Inmates given conflict management training course in Tangerang
Multa Fidrus
From The Jakarta Post
from www.babble.com
Abdul Rouf, 35, a terrorist serving a 16 year-jail term for the Bali Bombing case I, testified that he could understand more the differences of other people around him after following Conflict Management Training (CMT).
“This is the third day of a five-day training course I am following here. The result is very good. I can understand more about other inmates, the differences among us here,” he told The Jakarta Post at the Tangerang Adults Penitentiary on Tuesday.
Abdul and fellow terrorist Andri in the Bali Bombing case I who seldom smiled before joining the training were transferred from Denpasar Penitentiary to Tangerang last year.
Similarly, Edi Purnaman, 35, a former civil servant at the South Jakarta transportation and communication agency, said that the training had really opened his mind to and his view point of other people.
“I can also manage my emotion nows,” he said.
Edi, a resident of Jurumudi subdistrict, Tangerrang municipality, was sentenced to 10 years in prison for in a household crime and has served three years in the prison.
The training was organized by the Search for Common Ground, an international NGO focusing its program and activity on conflict management in cooperation with the Correctional Institution Directorate, the Jakarta Legal Aids Institute (LBH) and Prasasti Perdamaian Foundation.
The training was divided into two groups with the first one being earmarked for 25 inmates and the other group officers who daily have direct contact with inmates at five correctional institutions in Tangerang.
“The 25 inmates are those who were convicted for drugs offenses, murder, violence and corruption,” Agus Nahrowi, Search for Common Ground Indonesia’s senior program officer, said.
Akuang alias Iwan Samin, convicted for 20 years for possessing 1 ton of crystal methamphetamine (shabu-shabu) in Teluknaga, Tangerang regency, was among the trainees.
He said the core of the training was how to make inmates and prison officers able to manage conflict and transform them from destructive to constructive, communicative and effective.
He said there were three principles emphasized during the training. They are empowerment, positive choices and humanizing others.
The training was presented in various games such as the “ankle walk”, role plays focusing on building negotiation skills and a series of interactive discussions.
“From the evaluation and review of similar training we have conducted at six correctional institutions, inmates’ self confidence improves much and they realize they can make positive choices when they face conflict,’ Agus added.
Toro Wiyarto, head of data and information department at the Correctional Directorate, said that the directorate began conducting conflict management training for inmates and prison officers in 2007.
“As of today, we have given such training to inmates at six correctional institutions and this kind of training will also be held at other prisons across the country regularly,” he added.
Read the original article here.
Laughter is the shortest distance between two people.”
~Victor Borge
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Dutch filmmakers and twin sisters, Ilse and Femka van Velzen recently visited SFCG DC to speak about their documentaries dealing with sexual violence in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC). They have collaborated with SFCG to screen the film in-country.
Margot Wallstrom, Special Representative on sexual violence in conflict for the UN has called the DRC the “rape capital of the world.” During the civil war – which lasted for five years – rape was used as a weapon, one which victimized more than 80,000 women and girls. War officially came to an end in 2003 but conflict, militia violence and thus sexual assaults against women continue. This is especially true in eastern Congo. Over 8,000 women were raped in 2009 alone.
Ilse and Femke were in Angola, near the DRC border when they first heard stories about rapes in the Congo. At the time, sexual violence was largely underreported and the stories, both in content and quantity shocked the filmmakers. They had created their company, IF Productions, with the intent to tell human stories about social injustice. The stories they were hearing from and about Congolese women were too powerful not to give voice to—and so their film, Fighting the Silence was born.
Fighting the Silence
Fighting the Silence tells the stories of women whose lives have been rent apart by rape. A woman is shown systematically, almost frantically, washing her head over and over again.
“They don’t wash,” she says, speaking of the soldier who attacked her. “Their clothes are riddled with lice and they rape…This is why I wash every time I smell their scent.”
Another man speaks about coming home to find his children standing around his wife who lay on the bed crying. Upon learning that she had been raped by soldiers while their children watched, he sent her back to her village. “I cannot share my wife with a Burundian,” he says flatly. Unfortunately, such a reaction is not uncommon. Though rape has become widespread the stigma makes many women reluctant to speak out, for fear that they will be abandoned or ostracized by their families and communities.
Fighting the Silence is a powerful film with a hands-off approach to documentary filmmaking that allows the subjects to speak for themselves. However, Ilse and Femke quickly realized two things: 1) They were only telling half of the story and 2) They needed to take the film back to the Congo. They addressed these points with their new film Weapon of War and by partnering with Search for Common Ground to bring the films to Congolese audiences through mobile cinema.
Weapon of War
Ilse says that they began Fighting the Silence with a very black and white view, where every soldier was seen as a rapist, as the enemy. But this only tells a story of victims. Weapon of War looks at the conflict from the perspectives of the perpetrators. Interviews with former soldiers produce accounts of horrific acts committed with seemingly little remorse. One masked former rebel says that while no one was specifically ordered to rape, they celebrated when rapes occurred. Their strategy was successful, he says because the use of rape has forced the government to negotiate with them.
Rapes are increasingly carried out by civilians and many of these have a military background. This is reflective of the fact that the Congolese military does not have provisions in place to properly demobilize or reintegrate its soldiers. Weapon of War is thus, not only a way of giving a more complete story, but is also being used as a teaching tool for the military.
Captain Pierre Basima, who features heavily in the film, is at the forefront of this information campaign. A protestant priest and SFCG-trained activist, he works closely with the mobile cinema unit. He has made it his mission to educate the military on treating women and civilians in general with respect.
Mobile Cinema
Changing the dialogue surrounding sexual violence in the DRC is a fundamental goal in the van Velzen’s approach to their films. After Fighting the Silence was shot Ilse and Femke were determined that they should bring it back to the DRC, where it could have the greatest impact. They showed the film to all who participated in it, getting feedback on their portrayals and the film in general. They also broached the subject of showing the film to Congolese audiences. To their surprise, all involved said they wanted the film shown if it could help others.
Looking for partners to coordinate the mobile screenings, they were frequently directed to Search for Common Ground. With a small team, the mobile cinema unit travels through the eastern Congo spreading its message and facilitating after-show discussions. Over 2,000 people attended the first screening in Bukavu. Now they are increasingly taking the film to rural areas, where violence is often greater. There are some logistical issues: it must be dark for the film to be seen, but many people are reluctant to be out at night for fear of violence or robbery. Still, cinema is quite popular and the subject is something that has touched all of the communities they visit.
“We cannot change people from one day to another,” Femke says. “But this starts the conversation.”
Go here for more information on the mobile cinema and IF Productions.
20 May 2010
AMMAN – In the month of May many people celebrate Israeli Independence and grieve al Nakba; they lament ongoing violence and fear the next strike. In this sense, times have not changed much since the sad spring of 1974 when the 26th anniversary of the founding of the State of Israel was bloodied by attacks on the towns of Kiryat Shmona and Ma’alot in the north. Forty Israelis, including many children, were killed by Palestinians; 27 villagers and refugees were killed and 130 wounded in south Lebanon in retaliation.
I was 17 at the time and had finally been made principal flute in the New York City All City High School Orchestra. As daughter of the city’s best-known Arab, Dr. Mohammad T. Mehdi, champion of Palestinians and challenger to American policy in the region, I struggled through a lot of prejudice to prove my talent. A “blind audition” secured me the chance to solo in Claude Debussy’s “L’après-midi d’un faune”. Every flute player longs for that opportunity. My chance was the night of 16 May 1974.
The attacks happened the day before the concert. Israeli teenagers, like us, were taken hostage by the Democratic Front for the Liberation of Palestine. They were killed as Israeli troops came to rescue them.
My teachers, fellow musicians and the conductor already knew my father’s politics. Everyone recognised his voice from myriad television and radio news programs. Back in the day when “Arab” was the prefix for “terrorist”, reporters knew that Dr. Mehdi would provide context to acts of violence. He reminded audiences that Palestinians, an exiled people, still longed for their homeland and that some would resort to fighting to get it back. He did not condone their violent methods: hostage taking and airline hijackings. But, he urged the American people that once the Palestinians demand for a homeland was righted the Israelis would be able to live in peace.
Today most people acknowledge that until there is resolution for the Palestinians, the conflict will continue. My father’s message in the 1960s and 1970s was way ahead of its time. Decades ago he was called anti-Semitic and extreme but by the time he died so suddenly in my arms on a cold February day in 1998, he was heralded by many as a moderate that also appreciated the quandary faced by Israeli Jews.
“The Afternoon of a Faun” was programmed just after intermission. Nearly 100 high school musicians sat behind the drawn curtain at Avery Fisher Hall and listened as a representative of the Board of Education came on stage.
“Everyone knows about the tragedy that happened yesterday in Israel. I ask all of you to please stand for a moment of silence, out of respect for the 21 children who lost their lives at the hands of Arab terrorists.”
The room rumbled into a thousand people starting to stand as a shout rang out, filling the hall.
“Golda did it!”
My father meant that he believed the children wouldn’t have died if Israeli Prime Minister Golda Meir had not ordered troops onto the scene opening fire. He meant she should have pursued negotiations with the hostage-takers. His spontaneous statement didn’t encompass all the nuances he meant. I, for one, didn’t know exactly what he’d said; I only knew it was his voice and so did everyone on the stage around me.
Instantly my heart boomed so loudly I thought it would echo in the timpani. I grabbed for air, scratched for breath. I took my flute and made my way off the stage, desperate for composure. Gabriel Kosakoff, our conductor and a man who abhorred my father’s politics, came to my side.
“Are you OK?”
“Give me a minute.”
Out front people were confused. My choir director was crimson. Mom was stoic and my sisters were mortified.
The audience settled down. I returned to my chair. Maestro resumed his podium and looked at me: when you’re ready.
I mustered everything I had. I played for my friends who believed in me, for my brave family, for the father I adored and hated right then, for everyone who wanted me to fail, and for those poor, innocent kids who were killed and the people killed in retribution.
Thirty-six years later, as Israel celebrates its 62nd birthday, and Palestinians mark the “Nakba” or catastrophe, 1948 continues to count its victims in lives and livelihoods every day. Until we see a just solution, unless voices like my father’s and my own unite together with Jewish voices demanding peace, more Ma’alots and Gazas are in store. I play my flute and take up my pen, hoping the call of the faun may one day trump its hunters.
Peace
We passed their graves:
The dead men there,
Winners or losers,
Did not care.
In the dark
They could not see
Who had gained
The victory.
~Langston Hughes
In this fantastic lecture from TED talks, Nigerian author Chimamanda Ngozie Adichie speaks about the dangers of only hearing a single narrative of another country or culture.
“The consequence of the single story is this: it robs people of dignity. It makes our recognition of our equal humanity difficult. It emphasizes how we are different, rather than how we are similar.”
