As a longtime employee of the Institutional Advancement Department (read “fundraising”) at UUSC, I’ve been asked many times to clarify the nature of our work and how it’s funded, especially when it comes to our humanitarian relief work. In a time of humanitarian crisis, such as the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami or the 2005 earthquake in Pakistan, people wonder why they should donate to UUSC over, say, the Red Cross or Oxfam or any one of a number of charities providing direct aid to people around the world.

I tell them that if they want their money to be used immediately, they should donate elsewhere. There are many fine organizations out there that are ready and willing to swoop into a disaster area on short notice to manage immediate relief efforts. However, if these donors want their money to be thoughtfully granted to grassroots UUSC partner programs located in areas of great need and administered by program officers sensitive to the needs and concerns of the local people in ways that promote longterm solutions to issues faced by marginalized populations, then they should give to UUSC.

Last month, while traveling in Indonesia and meeting some of the beneficiaries of the generosity of UUSC donors, I learned just how important this distinction is.

Indonesia is primarily a nation of Muslims -- in fact, it’s the largest Muslim nation in the world. The Aceh region, specifically, is under Islamic (sharia) law, making religion an important part of the everyday fabric of life there. The complexities of this environment make our partnerships with local grassroots organizations vital. Not only do they help us identify and support particularly vulnerable populations, they know the people they serve. They know the cultural issues that sometimes preclude some local populations from accessing – or even knowing about – options for aid and exercising their rights.

Over the course of a week spent with the Bedari delegation, meeting with representatives from such groups as Solidaritas Perempuan, LBH-APIK, Bungoeng Jeumpa, and the Center for Community Development and Education (CCDE), I learned that women in Indonesia and Pakistan face similar issues of: 1) not knowing their rights under either sharia or secular law, 2) not knowing how to access their rights, 3) encountering familial and/or cultural resistance to accessing their rights, and 4) widespread ignorance or misinformation on what rights sharia law actually grants to women.

I also learned that members of these partner organizations -- paid and volunteer, female and male -- spend a lot of time reaching out to communities and building trust so that people will feel able to share their problems and ask for help. Field representatives of both sexes are necessary. Women need to be active in their struggle for their rights, and women survivors often only feel comfortable confiding in other women. Men need to stand in solidarity with women, and many men in local communities are more receptive to the message of women’s rights, especially in a religious context, when it’s delivered by other men. In this way, slowly but surely, our partner groups in Indonesia and Pakistan are fertilizing the ground in which the seeds of women’s rights may grow.

What's more, I heard complaints from several people about Western tendencies to march in and start giving orders, pointing out the speck in the other's eye while ignoring the plank in their own and running roughshod over cultural and religious sensibilities different from theirs. This is not unique to Indonesia or Pakistan. Look at American gunpoint “diplomacy” around the world these days, especially in Muslim areas. Are we truly making anything better? Are we creating lasting, positive change? Or are we merely making millions of people feel disempowered, controlled, and resentful of us? Are we actually sowing resistance to the ideals we purport to uphold? We need to ask ourselves these questions at all levels, lest we inflict more wounds than we heal.

My experience in Indonesia has deepened my conviction that although we, Americans, have the power to tell people what they need, what to do, and how to run things, doing so will never produce meaningful, beneficial, lasting change. If you share this view, if you believe that giving people the tools to help themselves is ultimately a better strategy than simply trying to fix their problems for them, then consider donating to UUSC.

For some women, a scarf is a pretty piece of fabric, a fashion accessory. For others it's a symbol of religious devotion. However, for many women a scarf is a tool of oppression used against them in name of religious piety.

My colleague, Gretchen, and I spent a week in Aceh, Indonesia, with five Kashmiri representatives of Bedari, a volunteer organization working to further women's rights in Pakistan. Though the rights of Pakistani women are more severely curtailed in most cases than those of the Acehnese women, one notable difference is that the Acehnese Muslim women must cover their hair thoroughly or risk detention (and possibly caning) by sharia police, whereas women in Pakistani cities, at least, can often get away with minimal or no head covering.

I chose to dress modestly in Aceh, but, as a non-Muslim, I was not required to cover my hair (though as a redhead, I might have received significantly less attention if I had!). Two of our Pakistani women friends continued to wear their scarves, but one did not; as an obvious foreigner, she could also get away without covering her hair, and she preferred not to do so when given a choice. I didn't really think much about it until she and I were shopping for souvenirs at a shop in Banda Aceh, when I saw her examining a length of hot pink fabric embellished with metallic threads while searching for a gift for her mother. Thinking she was interested in scarves, I pointed out some pretty ones in a nearby display case.

"I don't give scarves as gifts," she said, explaining that she doesn't support the enforced wearing of headscarves and so refuses to give them to other women. And then I thought back to the evening of two days prior, when we had thrown Gretchen a surprise birthday party in the hotel and invited two of our friends from Solidaritas Perempuan. One of them had allowed me to try on her jilbab, hers a sort of tube of stretchy fabric rather than a folded square of fabric tied or pinned about the head. Laughing, we agreed that I resembled nothing so much as an eastern European peasant woman with it on. I wore it for five or ten minutes before deciding that it was way too hot and needed to come off.

Ah, but there's my Western, non-Muslim privilege: I can don or doff the scarf at will. I can laugh and joke about how silly I look with it on. Increasingly, the women of Aceh and Pakistan cannot. In fact, during our stay, sharia police rounded up 10 to 20 young women in Banda Aceh for insufficiently Islamic dress (judging from the Jakarta Post photo, they wore no jilbab, or wore short sleeves or tight jeans) and threatened them with caning. Even worse, it is becoming increasingly common for self-styled sharia enforcers in the more rural areas of Aceh to take it upon themselves to punish women for what they deem immodest dress, such as in one incident this July when, "In the name of sharia, and after saying a greeting, several youths claiming to be students of an Islamic boarding school in North Aceh tried to spray paint on the tight pants of several women," then returned the next day to attack the cafe owner who had resisted their raid. North Aceh has also seen incidents of sharia enforcers bursting into homes or hotel rooms to check whether women are covering their heads even in their own private spaces.

Personally, I think that the wearing of scarves or other modest dress is so much more spiritually significant when women have the right to choose it freely, without fear of coercion or punishment for refusing. Regardless, public space for Muslim women is shrinking in both Aceh and Pakistan, and the forced wearing of the headscarf is only one of the more visible manifestations of this restriction.

Our friends from Bedari warned the Acehnese groups we met that if they are not vigilant, Indonesia could go from being one of the most liberal of the Muslim nations to being one of the most restrictive, like Pakistan has become since the 1970s. I hope they take heed and are able to increase the voices and participation of women in both the public and private spheres.

May we all work to unravel the fabric of women's oppression instead of continuing to weave it.

Q: What do you get when five human rights activists from Pakistan travel to the tsunami-ravaged regions of Indonesia?

A: Constant comparisons between the social-cultural and legal barriers women face in each country, and a lot of laughter!

UUSC is hosting five members from its Pakistan partner organization, Bedari, for eight days in Indonesia to visit UUSC’s partner organizations there that are focusing on protecting women’s rights, particularly their inheritance rights, after disaster.

Aceh is rebuilding after the December 2004 tsunami, and Pakistan is rebuilding after the October 2005 earthquake, and both places share similar cultural and legal characteristics. Both places are also majority Muslim and Sharia (Muslim) law deeply influences customary and legal practice. And in both places, women – especially widows – encounter a variety of similar obstacles to recovering from disaster and protecting themselves and their families from becoming poorer.

So there are a lot of comparisons to be made.

But the thing that has surprised the people from Pakistan most is that so many women in Aceh drive motorbikes! Women in Pakistan don’t – it’s culturally unacceptable. But here in Aceh, the Pakistani women have ridden with some of their new-found female friends, laughing the whole way.

Another surprise has been the ease with which Acehnese women talk about their concerns and challenges. For example, domestic abuse and rape are common themes of conversation when we meet with communities here. These issues also concern the Pakistanis – but it’s much harder to talk about them in Pakistan. This can mean that it’s much harder to make changes that will decrease such violence against women. It's a grave topic, but there have been plenty of opportunities for giggles and jokes that were shared despite double and triple language barriers!

Interestingly, the Pakistani group has also noticed that human rights activism in Pakistan is stronger and better-coordinated than in Aceh. This, the Pakistanis think, can help their work on promoting and protecting women’s land-inheritance rights in post-earthquake Pakistan. Bedari is already planning to reach out to more lawyers, students, and religious and community leaders in Kashmir to reinforce Bedari’s work.

And who knows, maybe Bedari's efforts to drive change for the better in Kashmir will soon include motorbikes and women driving them!

When I recently visited our tsunami response partner, Grassroots Human Rights Education in Phang Nga, Thailand, and talked with the Burmese undocumented workers with whom they work, I was amazed at the stories of abuse and injustice I heard.

The Burmese are employed to rebuild the Thai tourist hotels and infrastructure in Phang Nga that were destroyed by the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami. Having fled a brutal war, most are undocumented, all are suffering grave abuses of basic human rights. They are paid half of what they are promised -- or not paid at all -- they are kept in sub-human conditions, shaken down by the police, jailed if they cannot pay, and threatened with deportation if they protest.

The most eerie part of that discussion, held in a restaurant within sight of a beautiful beach, was how the stories of the undocumented Burmese rebuilding the Thai coast after the tsunami mirrored the stories of the Latin American undocumented workers rebuilding the Gulf Coast after Katrina. I could shut my eyes and -- save for the translator -- the stories of labor rights abuse were frighteningly similar.

UUSC supports the New Orleans Workers' Center for Racial Justice in New Orleans and the Mississippi Immigrant Rights Alliance in Gulfport in their work to organize and advocate for undocumented workers in the rebuilding of the Gulf Coast who face the same problems the Burmese do. In Thailand, we support GHRE, a courageous organization staffed by Burmese themselves who help organize the Burmese, advocate for them, defend their rights, and provide services such as education for children of undocumented workers.

With the last UUSC grant in 2006, GHRE was able to secure legal migrant status for 25 of their workers, enabling them to travel freely to do their work without continual fear that the police would detain or deport them. GHRE sent us a photo in January of a group of workers holding up their legal migrant IDs, jubilant because they had successfully used them to get past police checkpoints without harassment. This mobility has given GHRE the ability to expand their defense of the undocumented workers and be effective advocates.

Now these workers are being hounded by new laws. Last week, Htoo Chit, the head of GHRE wrote UUSC about Phang Nga province's new restrictive laws against legal migrants. On June 9, a new law was passed prohibiting legal migrants from Burma to drive motorbikes, use cell phones, gather in groups of more than five people, or be outside between 8 p.m. and 6 a.m. Thai citizens are allowed to confiscate motorbikes or cellphones from Burmese migrants.

Equally draconian laws were passed in other provinces. The Thai government is trying to tie the hands of those Burmese who are struggling to improve the lives of their compatriots by making it almost impossible for them to travel, communicate, or hold meetings. These are basic human rights that are recognized worldwide. If this is how the Thai government treats the legal migrants, the undocumented workers are more vulnerable than ever.

Htoo Chit from GHRE is an inspiring human rights worker who continues to find creative solutions to the thousand and one obstacles he has faced to defend the undocumented Burmese in Thailand. We will be working with him over the next few weeks to support him against this latest violation of basic human rights.

An increasingly bloody civil war in Sri Lanka is trapping more and more citizens in the line of fire.

When I was there a couple of weeks ago, thousands of people on the east coast were on the move, trying to escape shelling and increased violence. People are displacing to camps, like the one in this picture, with no idea of when or if they will be able to return to their homes. Many of these camps lack sufficient shelter, water, food, sanitation, and health care.

People all along the east coast told me they were anxious about their security -- especially in a place where armed groups consider the language one speaks as an indication of the "side" one is on. And with an increasingly fractured resistance, it becomes harder and harder for citizens to know who's who and how to remain as safe as possible. Too often, the only option is to flee.

One tragedy of a counter-insurgency war is that "draining the pond" means relocating the population or, worse yet, making no distinction between unarmed civilians and combatants.

Sri Lanka's civil war is boiling again, and it's the people who feel the most heat. The Guardian's article goes in more depth, and is worth reading. Check out the photo gallery as well. And stay in touch with UUSC to learn more about our response to the multilayered humanitarian crisis in Sri Lanka.

And when it falls apart . . .

A conversation at a camp for IDPs (internally displaced persons) in Sri Lanka:

Tell me, friend, where are you coming from?
- From another IDP camp, 100 km from here.

And why did you leave there?
- Because of the war. There is shelling and gunfire. It is unsafe.

And when did you arrive here?
- This morning, with my wife and three-year-old daughter. We came on a bus provided by the government.

How long ago did you first leave your home?
- We left almost one year ago . . . we have been displaced for one year. The tsunami destroyed our home two years ago. The house was rebuilt, but then we fled the war.

Will you go back?
- If it is safe. . . . I do not know. . . . Perhaps our house has been destroyed again.

And what will you do in the meantime?
- My friend, what is there to do? I am a fisherman. Here there is no ocean, and here I have no boat. Here we have no land. Here I am dependent. But all of my relatives have also had to leave their villages; I have no other place to go. If I did, I would not be here. So, what can I do? I will hope for a more peaceful time. This is a difficult time: War. . . tsunami . . . war. . . . This is how life can seem to fall apart.

Gretchen Alther, associate for UUSC's Rights in Humanitarian Crises program, recently visited tsunami-affected communities and IDP camps in Sri Lanka.

Gretchen Alther, associate for UUSC's Rights in Humanitarian Crises program, is visiting tsunami-affected communities in Sri Lanka.

The Indian Ocean tsunami on December 26, 2004, hit Sri Lanka’s coasts and wiped out hundreds of thousands of homes and livelihoods. Much of the global outpouring of aid went to support fisher-families and rebuild houses. Much less went to farming communities that were also affected by the tsunami.

How value-added adds value

Two critical things to know about growing rice: 1) you can't do it in salty soil; and 2) you can't do it without rice seeds.

Two critical things to know about the tsunami: 1) it saturated rice fields with salt; and 2) it devastated rural livelihoods all along the coast of Sri Lanka.

What to do?

Desalinate those rice fields and figure our how to begin making a living again! And that's just what farmers in the Sri Lankan community of Panama have done, with the support of UUSC and its program partner Sewalanka Foundation.

Members of Panama's farmers' association are now growing rice for seed. They built a small factory where rice seed is sorted, packed, and distributed to local markets. Since most farmers in the area are rice farmers, there's a good market. And selling rice seed instead of rice means that the farmers are making a better income. Rice sells for a government-set price of Rs (Rupees) 18/kg.

Also, the government is the sole buyer of rice and will only purchase a certain amount from each farmer at that price. But rice seed sells for Rs 23/kg, and there's no limit to how much a farmer can sell. That means greater profitability all around. Some of that profit goes back into the association to support maintenance and expansion of the business, as well as a revolving loan fund and other association activities.

That's all good news for these farmers whose fields and livelihoods were devastated by the tsunami two years ago, and then devastated again by heavy flooding last year.

But this business venture also means good news for other rice farmers in Panama. Because rice seed is now produced locally, local farmers do not have to travel as far as before to buy rice seed. Travel costs would tack on an additional Rs 9/kg, bringing the total cost to Rs 32/kg! But with rice seed now locally available, fewer farmers incur that much additional expense. This means greater potential profit for them, too.

So the value-added production of rice seed also means adding value for other farmers, too. And for a community struggling to recover after the tsunami, there's a lot of value in that!

Gretchen Alther, associate for UUSC's Rights in Humanitarian Crises program, is visiting tsunami-affected communities in Sri Lanka.

The Indian Ocean tsunami on December 26, 2004, hit Sri Lanka’s coasts and wiped out hundreds of thousands of houses and livelihoods. Reassembling a life in the midst of such a widespread crisis is difficult. Much of the global outpouring of aid went to support fisher-families and rebuilding houses. Less went to farming communities that were also affected by the tsunami, and aid that did go to farmers mostly went to support farming activities that involve men, not women.

Of women and cows

In Sri Lanka, a woman with a cow can do things. She can sell milk and help pay for things like schooling for her children. If the woman’s cow is a buffalo cow, then the milk can be made into curd – buffalo milk yogurt – and sold. Processing the milk adds value, and the final product sells at a higher price. More profit often means the woman’s family eats better. Maybe she even re-invests some of the profit to grow her business, or saves for future needs. Indeed, a woman and her cow can do things.

And when 50 women and 50 cows get together, lots of things start happening. There’s a bunch of milking, a bunch of curd-making, some rigorous retailing, and a fair number of wet-nosed little calves getting born. Exciting stuff.

But when 50 women and 50 cows get together and have the backing of their local women’s association, and other folks with experience building rural businesses, plus some capital, well, that’s when things really get moving. That’s when groups can make an economy of scale and manufacture, distribute, and market stuff – stuff like milk, yogurt, curd, and butter.

And that’s just what women in Panama are gearing up to do. With the support of UUSC and UUSC’s program partner in Sri Lanka, Sewalanka Foundation, women in rural Panama have been strengthening their association and building the skills that will help them create and manage a dairy plant. The plant is being built (see picture) and will soon be completed. In the next few months, the women of Panama will begin making and selling yogurt commercially. The women's long-term plans are even bigger. They expect to diversify their dairy products and expand their markets.

In rural, coastal Sri Lanka, where women regularly bring in over half of the household income and usually provide the only source of regular income, rebuilding livelihoods post-tsunami is critical to the well-being of a whole lot of folk. Supporting women's work is one way UUSC is helping ensure that communities affected by the tsunami get back on their feet.

Of women and cows, much is expected.

Mihir Bhatt of the All India Disaster Mitigation Institute (AIDMI) visited the UUSC office on March 14 to give a presentation on his organization’s work to help victims of disasters -- both natural and human-caused -- throughout South Asia.

A key program partner in UUSC’s efforts to help individuals displaced by the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami, AIDMI is an “action research” institute that conducts research and places findings immediately into practice. AIDMI emphasizes the point of view of persons affected by disasters and conceptualizes disaster mitigation broadly, to extend beyond the immediate response work that most often draws the attention of the international community.

Mihir (pictured left with UUSC Deputy Director Mark McPeak) shared the findings of a recent AIDMI study that sought to learn the ratio of “lateral relief” (i.e., assistance provided by local communities) to external relief (foreign aid) received by disaster survivors. Across several disaster incidents, the ratio was strikingly consistent: for every one dollar (or rupee) in assistance funded by external sources, disaster survivors received three dollars’ worth from neighbors, friends, local businesses, etc.

Mihir explained that this finding has implications for how financial assistance from international donors ought to be applied. Such aid, he suggested, should be leveraged to ensure that the exchange of lateral assistance be conducted in a coordinated fashion, ensuring that the largest numbers of people benefit from this vital source of relief.