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Tribute to Vandana Shiva - The Poison Seed

THE POISON SEED

Her grandfather, who had raised her, was exclaiming something loud in the back garden as we toured all the structures that now were built on the once empty patch of land.

The old man had been allotted this fairly large plot of land by the state. It had been sold to him very cheaply. I estimated the original lot to be about three quarters of an acre.

On that lush tropical landscape had once been many more trees than were now present and situated in between structures. Even so, the existing species of large trees grew avocados, mangoes and bananas. These had helped feed a large family on a state road worker's salary.

The main house was plain. Large dormitory like rooms were where the boys and girls had sleep. There was a common room or living room and a small kitchen. This structure had been built wall by wall, room by room, over the years. Extra savings went into concrete blocks on a regular basis.

The back of the property had once housed a large pig sty. Pork had been the cash crop that supplemented tropical fruits and the staple rice and beans diet. Pork had helped purchase the blocks. Piglets had been temporary play companions to poor children.

In fact, she had told me that as a child, the only dolls she played with were homemade things made of corn husks, the corn of which had fed the pigs. Corn silks adorned the corn husk dolls as hair.

The old man was quite animated.

The land now held five houses where at one time stood one.

As the nearby town grew outward, modest houses started to dot the countryside. Streets were paved. Second generations built a second story onto parents' houses.

Zoning laws changed in the expanded town. No pigs could be raised within the new city limits. Now only a few old hens pecked at the ground and made the occasional stew.

I asked for a translation. What was the old man shouting about?

Her cousin had inherited a one room house on the back of the property. He had recently married and his new bride had planted some shrubs to decorate this desolate corner of the original lot.

The literal translation of the bride's plantings came to words translated as "poison seed".

"It is a poison seed!" was what he repeated over and over again in Spanish.

The old man was upset. Everything on his property in terms of plants had been always been edible. Now, a stranger, the wife of a grandson was planting a decorative plant and not an edible one.

The old man's bubble had burst. The world outside his front porch could have changed in some measurable way over the years but it somehow had not touched a chord.

His sons had gone to college. One daughter was a registered nurse. The ones who had emigrated to the mainland had their own measure of material success in the post World War II boom in America.

He had at least thirty grandchildren and umpteen great grandchildren. All the changes over the last half a century registered in some proportion that matched the land that he stood on and owned.

Now, on this day, paradise seemed corrupted and lost. The people on the land now did not understand his vision for the land. The land must feed his family. A plant, a foreign seed from the outside world had invaded.

The seeds of the destruction were planted. His vision, his temporary footprint in the scheme of things, was disappearing before his eyes. So he shouted in his own way.

His time had passed. Now he knew and recognized that fact.

This he expressed with great passion.

LA SEMILLA DE VENENO

Su abuelo, quien la había criado, exclamaba a un ruido fuerte en el jardín de atrás, como hicimos una gira por todas las estructuras que ahora se construyeron en el parche una vez vacío de la tierra.

El viejo había sido asignado esta parcela bastante grande de la tierra por el Estado. Se había vendido a él a precios muy bajos. Estimé el lote original de estar cerca de tres cuartos de acre.

En ese paisaje tropical había sido muchos más árboles que ahora estaban presentes y situado entre las estructuras. Aun así, las especies existentes de árboles de gran tamaño creció aguacates, mangos y bananas. Estos habían ayudado a alimentar a una familia grande en el salario de un trabajador por carretera estatal.

La casa principal era evidente. Dormitorio grande como las habitaciones donde estaban los chicos y chicas tenían el sueño. Había una habitación común o sala de estar y una cocina pequeña. Esta estructura había sido construida la pared por pared, habitación por habitación, en los últimos años. Ahorro extra entró en bloques de hormigón sobre una base regular.

La parte trasera de la propiedad había albergado una vez a la pocilga de gran tamaño. Carne de cerdo ha sido el cultivo comercial que complementa las frutas tropicales y el arroz de primera necesidad y la dieta judías. Carne de cerdo había ayudado a comprar los bloques. Los lechones habían sido compañeros de juego temporales a los niños pobres.

De hecho, ella me había dicho que cuando era niño, las muñecas sólo jugaba con las cosas fueron hechas en casa hechas de hojas de maíz, el maíz que había alimentado a los cerdos. Sedas de maíz adornaban las muñecas de hoja de maíz como el pelo.

El anciano estaba muy animado.

La tierra ahora en manos de cinco casas en las que en un momento se quedó uno.

En la cercana ciudad creció hacia el exterior, casas modestas comenzó a aparecer en el campo. Las calles estaban pavimentadas. La segunda generación construyó un segundo piso en las casas de los padres.

Las leyes de zonificación cambiado en la ciudad ampliada. No hay cerdos podría plantearse dentro de los límites de la ciudad nueva. Ahora sólo unas pocas gallinas viejas picoteó el suelo e hizo el guiso de vez en cuando.

Le pedí por una traducción. ¿Cuál fue el viejo gritos?

Su primo había heredado una casa de una habitación en la parte posterior de la propiedad. Se había casado recientemente y su nueva esposa había plantado unos arbustos para decorar este desolado rincón del lote original.

La traducción literal de las plantaciones de la novia llegó a las palabras traducidas como "semillas de veneno".

"Es una semilla veneno!" era lo que repetía una y otra vez en español.

El viejo estaba molesto. Todo en su propiedad en términos de las plantas había sido siempre ha sido comestible. Ahora, un extraño, la esposa de un nieto estaba plantando una planta decorativa y no un hongo sano.

Burbuja del anciano se había reventado. El mundo exterior porche de su casa podría haber cambiado de una forma medible a través de los años, pero por alguna razón no había tocado la fibra sensible.

Sus hijos se habían ido a la universidad. Una de sus hijas era una enfermera registrada. Los que habían emigrado al continente tenía su propia medida del éxito material en el post boom de la Segunda Guerra Mundial en Estados Unidos.

Tenía por lo menos treinta nietos y bisnietos incontables. Todos los cambios a lo largo del último medio siglo registrados en una proporción que coincide con la tierra que se encontraba en la propiedad y.

Ahora, en este día, el paraíso parecía dañado y perdido. La gente en la tierra ahora no entendían su visión de la tierra. La tierra debe alimentar a su familia. Una planta, una semilla extranjera del mundo exterior había invadido.

Las semillas de la destrucción fueron plantadas. Su visión, su huella temporal en el esquema de las cosas, fue desapareciendo ante sus ojos. Así que gritó a su manera.

Su tiempo había pasado. Ahora que sabía y reconoció ese hecho.

Esto lo expresó con gran pasión.

जहर के बीज

उसके दादा, जो उसे उठाया था पीछे बगीचे में जोर कुछ चकित था के रूप में हम सभी संरचनाओं कि अब देश के एक बार खाली पैच पर बनाया गया था का दौरा किया.


बूढ़े आदमी राज्य द्वारा देश के काफी बड़े भूखंड आवंटित किया गया था. यह उसके लिए किया गया था बहुत सस्ते में बेच दिया. मैं बहुत मूल के एक एकड़ के तीन तिमाहियों के बारे में होने का अनुमान है.


कि रसीला उष्णकटिबंधीय परिदृश्य पर एक बार बहुत से अधिक पेड़ से अब मौजूद थे और संरचनाओं के बीच में स्थित किया गया था. फिर भी, बड़े पेड़ों की मौजूदा प्रजातियों मक्खन फल, आम, केले और बढ़ी. इन मदद की थी एक राज्य सड़क कार्यकर्ता वेतन पर एक बड़े परिवार को खिलाने के.


मुख्य घर सादा था. कमरे की तरह बड़े छात्रावास थे जहां लड़कों और लड़कियों की नींद था. एक आम कमरे या कमरे में रहने वाले और एक छोटा रसोईघर था. इस संरचना दीवार, कमरे से कमरे से किया गया था दीवार पिछले कुछ वर्षों में, बनाया गया है. अतिरिक्त बचत एक नियमित आधार पर ठोस ब्लॉक में चला गया.


संपत्ति के पीछे एक बार एक बड़े सुअर शूकरशाला रखे था. पोर्क नकदी फसल है कि उष्णकटिबंधीय फल और प्रधान चावल और बीन्स आहार पूरक किया गया था. पोर्क मदद की थी ब्लॉक खरीद. बेबी सूअरों गरीब बच्चों को अस्थायी खेलने साथी गया था.


वास्तव में, वह मुझसे कहा था कि एक बच्चे के रूप में, केवल गुड़िया वह साथ खेला घर मक्का कोर किए गए बातें, जिनमें से सूअरों को खिलाया गया था मकई थे. मकई रेशम बाल के रूप में मकई भूसी गुड़िया सजी.


बूढ़े आदमी काफी एनिमेटेड था.


भूमि अब पांच घरों जहां एक समय में एक खड़ा था का आयोजन किया.


पास के शहर के रूप में जावक वृद्धि हुई है, मामूली घरों के ग्रामीण इलाकों डॉट को शुरू कर दिया. गलियां, पक्का थे. दूसरा पीढ़ियों के माता पिता के घर पर एक दूसरी कहानी का निर्माण किया.


भवन निर्माण कानूनों का विस्तार शहर में बदल दिया है. कोई सूअरों नए शहर की सीमा के भीतर उठाया जा सकता है. अब केवल कुछ पुराने मुर्गियाँ जमीन पर उठाया है और कभी कभी स्टू बनाया है.


मैं अनुवाद के लिए पूछा. क्या बूढ़े आदमी के बारे में चिल्ला रहा था?


उसका चचेरा भाई संपत्ति की पीठ पर एक कमरे के घर विरासत में मिला था. वह हाल ही में शादी की थी और अपनी नई दुल्हन कुछ झाड़ियों मूल बहुत से इस उजाड़ कोने को सजाने लगाया था.


दुल्हन लगाए झाड़ियों के शाब्दिक अनुवाद "जहर बीज के रूप में अनुवादित शब्दों के लिए आया था.


"यह एक जहर का बीज है!" वह क्या दोहराया और स्पेनिश में फिर.


बूढ़े आदमी परेशान था. पौधों के मामले में उसकी संपत्ति पर सब कुछ हमेशा किया गया था खाद्य किया गया. अब, एक अजनबी, एक पोता की पत्नी एक सजावटी पौधे रोपण किया गया था और नहीं एक खाद्य.


बूढ़े आदमी बुलबुला फट था. अपने सामने पोर्च के बाहर की दुनिया कुछ औसत दर्जे का रास्ता में पिछले कुछ वर्षों में बदल सकता है लेकिन यह किसी भी तरह एक ही राग नहीं छुआ था.


उसके बेटों को कॉलेज के लिए गया था. एक बेटी एक पंजीकृत नर्स थी. जो मुख्य भूमि के लिए कूच किया था के बाद अमेरिका में द्वितीय विश्व युद्ध के बूम में उनके सामग्री सफलता के अपने खुद के उपाय था.


वह कम से कम तीस पोते और अनेक महान पोते था. पिछली आधी सदी से अधिक सभी परिवर्तन कुछ अनुपात है कि कि वे देश पर खड़ा था और स्वामित्व मिलान में पंजीकृत.


अब, इस दिन पर, स्वर्ग और भ्रष्ट लग रहा था खो दिया. भूमि पर लोगों को अब देश के लिए उसकी दृष्टि समझ में नहीं आया. भूमि उसके परिवार को खिलाना चाहिए. एक संयंत्र है, बाहर की दुनिया से एक विदेशी बीज पर आक्रमण किया था.


विनाश के बीज बोए थे. उनकी दृष्टि, उसकी चीजों की योजना में अस्थायी पदचिह्न, अपनी आंखों के सामने गायब था. तो वह अपने तरीके से चिल्लाया.


अपने समय के पारित किया था. अब वह जानता था और है कि वास्तव में मान्यता प्राप्त है.


यह वह महान जुनून के साथ व्यक्त किया.

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In Honor and in Tribute to the work of activist Vandana Shiva on behalf of the poor voiceless people of the world.

(As I stated previously, William Blake already beat me to the title The Poison Tree. I change it gladly to The Poison Seed in order to help the poor of this planet achieve Nutritional Freedom.)

http://thisculturalchristian.blogspot.com/2008/07/poison-tree.html

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Tribute to all the Victims of Sexual Violence at Penn State - Known and Unknown

Tribute to all the Victims of Sexual Violence at Penn State - Known and Unknown

FLY!


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Monsanto – The New Bread of Life – God? – Vandana Shiva thinks not!

I ran into Bill Moyers Journal with the Indian Activist Sandana Shiva and my third eye opened up in terms of putting the Global concept on the individual level that I try to follow and document.

But the disturbing thing is how International Corporate Agri-Business is gobbling up the third world like in India and killing off hundreds of thousands of farmers through suicide who can no longer live or compete on their small plots of once fertile and plentiful food producing land. They can’t compete with the new God Monsanto – and its patented re-definitions of Food and God.

I am getting old.  I can remember when Monsanto was a chemical company primarily into the production of linoleum. Linoleum? What’s that? Told you I was old.

But my getting old is not the issue. The issue is how the global corporations are taking the global concept to a control all level of the human existence.  Humans no longer count in the Agri-business global model.  Humans and Farmers – being tossed off the Global Corporate Spreadsheet genetically engineered at Wharton, Brown and Harvard.

Monsanto is not God! Though it is trying to play God all over the planet with its genetically altered food, patenting it and monopolizing worldwide food production in that only its patented seeds are the only seeds available now to many farmers in the third world.

That lies that genetically altered seeds produce more food, greater yield, are even believed by fools like Bill Gates of Microsoft.  Bill better get off his high horse if he genuinely wants to help humanity and not corporations.  

http://billmoyers.com/segment/vandana-shiva-on-seeds-of-humanity/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vandana_Shiva

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Harden Up Penn State! Joe Paterno just like RC Bishops – Coward and Child Rapist Enabler – Nothing More

Face of a Hero or an Enabler?

It is difficult for people who only knew Joe Paterno through the lens of football to use other language to describe him.

And in a way if that was all he did with his prestige and power, then football is all he would want or deserve to be remembered for now.  But he enabled Sandusky and any accomplices he had, to systematically glean the countryside for boys without fathers to befriend victimize and rape these children for decades through the Second Mile tax free charity.

What Joe Paterno knew was more than the “I am innocent, he was a saint “ statements coming out the mouths of his family at present, a family that benefits from the millions of hush money Joe demanded from the Penn State Board of Trustees and got to take the truth to the grave with him.  

His wife’s church on campus is a chantry, a place with masses will be said forever for the soul of a corporate bastard that cared only about himself, his job and his phony reputation as a nice guy. Tell the families of all of Jerry Sandusky’s rape victims that Joe Paterno was basically a nice guy.  Yeah right.  Bastard!

His statue at Beaver Stadium is the last vestige of the innocence of the public and the public’s interest in football and the myth of Joe Paterno. That is why it is so hard to scrap the statue at a junk yard where it now belongs.  That and the fact that the fat cat donors coming into home games in their private and corporate jets want the myth of Joe Paterno to surround the surrealistic feel good world of Saturday afternoon college football.  They don’t want to hear about victims. They don’t care about victims.

That fat cat rich donors, some of them, are just as guilty as Jerry, Joe, and the Board of Trustees for letting child rape be something that poor boys had to endure at the expense of the corporate greed, power and prestige reality of American College Football. 

In a sense the scandal, as a mild term or descriptive, the crime of child trafficking of the Second Mile Charity for Sandusky and possibly his friends and rich Penn State donors, is a criminal matter in secular terms.

It is difficult for people also who have only known their parish priests as patriarchs, mentors or even friends but the bottom end of a hierarchical ladder that claims monopoly on the divine, to recognize that in the ranks, some priests are rotten apples and that the whole institution to protect itself will say anything, do anything, spend anything in order to protect the prestige of the religious institution.

That is why the American Bishops are trying to reopen the contraception matrix, to change the subject, in order to hide the ongoing buggery behind the scenes in the Church that the Bishops refuse and or are incapable of dealing with in human terms, not institutional terms.

I think that a lot of people are cowards that cannot give up the myths and fantasies that hurt others while they gluttonize on their favorite desserts of Football or God.

http://www.cnn.com/2012/07/15/opinion/martin-paterno-coward/index.html

Football is nothing more than a game. But Sandusky raping young boys is a matter of life and death, of innocence lost. 

In the aftermath of Sandusky's arrest, Paterno was treated as a victim, a man who was caught up in something he wasn't aware of. Now we know that was a lie. 

Freeh produced the documents showing Paterno, his family and his legion of supporters lied in order to protect Paterno's name. All he cared about was breaking the all-time record set by Grambling State head coach Eddie Robinson. 

Paterno, and the other Penn State lackeys, had to know that turning Sandusky in could prevent "JoePa" from breaking that record. So they all stayed silent, and all the while young boys suffered in their own silence. 

When it's time to name the great coaches of college football, Robinson, Bear Bryant, Amos Alonzo Stagg and Knute Rockne will certainly be mentioned. Prior to the Freeh report, Paterno would have been on that list. But his actions in the Sandusky affair destroyed everything he accomplished in his career. 

Great coaches make the tough calls. When Paterno failed to make the toughest call of his life -- to the police to turn in his longtime friend -- he did more than cost his team a victory. Young boys lost something they can never recover. 

That's what cowards do, and Joe Paterno was a coward.

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