|
|
 |
Jim's Journal
Daily thoughts… living on a sweatshop wage.
|
8-14-00
"The 501 Blues"
Today was an uneventful, much-needed day of resting and regrouping. Given that, let me rewind to yesterday morning and share the story of yet another "shopping" excursion. Leily, our interpreter/guide asked around and was able to find for us the local market where the workers would buy most of their clothing, food, etc. It was disgusting. There were flies everywhere, an open sewer ran through the middle of the cramped booths and the air was thick with the smell of day old fish and rotting garbage.
We stopped at two separate booths to price out baby clothes, children's clothes, and men's and women's clothing. When we complete this part of the project in Tangerang we will have a full section on our website dedicated to this research. Click the link below to view a small sampling of the complete lack of spending power of Nike's basic wage.
The price of the jeans really stuck me. To buy a cheap pair of jeans a female factory worker would have to spend 417% of her basic daily wage, more than four days wages. Let's say she wanted to save for the jeans and that she was willing to sacrifice by saving 10% of her basic wage (1080Rp) each day. (Remember, on average the workers have 5000-7000Rp to spend on food each day, so this would be a major sacrifice.) By saving at this rate it would take her almost a month and a half earning the basic wage to buy a cheap pair of jeans. A month and a half of saving to afford one pair of jeans and have her entire savings wiped out in the process. I have nothing else to say.
Peace, Jim
8-13-00
"Liberation"
We set off late this afternoon to meet with a couple who work at the KMG Global Sport Company producing Nike Basketball sneakers. Actually, the wife no longer works; she had to take time off to be home with Yen, their 9-month-old son. Their home was typical of the Nike workers we have met to date, small, dark and depressing. I spent the good part of an hour getting nowhere with the interview questions we had prepared. The reality is, the workers are not well educated, are desperately poor, are terribly afraid of speaking up and cannot understand why anyone from the United States would want to help them. We had our work cut out for us.
Harappan (names have been changed to protect the workers), the 25-year-old father, did most of the talking. He told me that he works very long hours, doesn't always make enough money to pay for food and that because of his small salary, he and his wife Amat, struggle to save for their future. He then went on to say that he was happy. I wish I could say that I was surprised. I was not. His statement is not that different from other workers with whom I have met and spoken. Harappan is typical of the type of person Nike and other American apparel companies prey on. He fits the description above; he is poor, relatively uneducated and filled with fear. He told me that he once thought about organizing workers to try and form an independent union, but he stopped out of fear that he would lose his job or worse. Poor, uneducated and afraid, a perfect combination if exploitation for profit maximization is your goal.
I did my best to continue with the interview. I was disheartened, as well as tired and hungry. By this time Harappan's brother, Cewe, had joined us and was sharing his story. His was no different than Harappan's. I did my best to explain to them that Nike is not concerned with their interests. I told them how Nike worked hand in hand with Suharto's military dictatorship to exploit their poverty and desperation for profit. I told them that Nike tells people in America that "minimum wage earners are usually able to meet their basic needs as well as to assist in supporting other family members or building modest savings." (www.nikebiz.com) I told them that this statement is based on the information that Nike's monitors have gathered. They said, "Of course that is what the monitors would hear. They always talk to the managers. The managers are making enough to live. They never talk to the workers." I then asked them what they would say if a monitor spoke to them. They babbled on about something and never really answered my question. Mike looked at me, hot, sweating and tired and said, "just give it rest, it isn't happening." I could not. I recalled that earlier in our conversation they had said something similar, "If we had a chance to talk to the monitors… " This was my window of opportunity. I departed from my normally calm approach to asking questions; I now showed passionate emotion.
Leily translated as best she could as I said with absolute frustration, "You have said at least twice, 'If we had a chance to talk to the monitors…' This is your chance! We are independent monitors! We are here! We want to hear your story. We want to bring it to the people in America. Forget about your fear. Tell us the truth!" It was as if a small crack in the rusted tin roof above their heads opened up and a small beam of sunlight gleamed through. They got it. It took almost two hours, but we reached the point. They got it. We were about to get the truth.
They have been working six and eight years respectively and only receive 307,000Rp ($36) and 309,000Rp ($36) per month. They are being cheated out of the full basic wage! They said they would need at the absolute least 700,000Rp ($81) a month to meet their most basic needs. They are verbally abused at work. They heard of a worker being kicked by a manager. One did not need to speak Indonesian to understand the built up frustration that had started to flow out. They had been liberated! Now they had questions of me. They wanted answers. They wanted to know what could be done, how could we help? They asked if we could meet again, they said, "This is only the beginning. We need to tell you more. We need to stay in touch with you." We are scheduled to meet again this Wednesday night. I cannot wait.
Peace, Jim
 |
| Dinner for 9 |
8-12-00
"The Joy of Sharing"
Tonight we had the pleasure of sharing a wonderful evening at the home of a few of the Adidas workers we met yesterday. In the few hours we spent with them we learned much about our "20-something" hosts. The short of it is, they are not that different from us.
The meal they prepared was simple and small, but very good. We had the fortunate pleasure of being entertained by their neighbor who just happened to be playing guitar in the front alley while we were eating. When we had finished dinner Fitri invited him in to join us. We spent the next hour sharing the universal human love of music. Both Leslie and Mike played and sang. Fitri, who is quite the performer, sang a few tunes. Sri and Yani read a most powerful poem about the situation of the workers. I even managed to belt out a butchered rendition of Guns and Roses' "Patience." It was pure, it was fun, it was human.
Between the singing and laughing we learned that Sri and Yani are single, Fitri is engaged, and Asmah and Nana are divorced. During the little free time that they have they love to watch TV or sit and talk about men, love, romance, etc. Some of their favorite actors are Bruce Willis, Sylvester Stallone, and Russell Wong. They like the Back Street Boys (Brian and Nick are their favorites), Guns and Roses and the Scorpions. (Quite a range of musical tastes!) Their favorite athletes are Del Pierro (Italian Soccer), Ronaldo (Brazilian Soccer), and Scottie Pippen (NBA). They absolutely LOVE "Titanic" and they haven't even seen it! (The power of advertising.) They begged us to rent it for them so they could watch it on our laptop.
I can just hear the harsh critics back home. "Hey, things don't sound that bad there. They watch TV, they listen to music, they know about movie stars and sports heroes." For you I offer the following. Three grown women live in a 7x15 cement box with a corrugated tin roof. The wooden floor is riddled with holes and covered by torn sheets of shelf paper. A 15-watt bulb and a kerosene lamp dimly light the room. They stack their worn, musty bedding against the wall and roll it out each night. This small, overcrowded, depressing room makes for their bedroom, dining room and living room. There is a small portal at the back end that opens to a cramped alley, which serves as a community kitchen and laundry area. This space and their bathroom are shared with the occupants from three other similar rooms. They stand for 7-15 hours a day, tired, hungry and overworked, stitching the seams of Adidas Predator soccer shoes. For their reward they do not earn enough money to pay the rent and meet their basic food needs. Things are certainly bad here.
Despite all this, they still found it within themselves to share a night of absolute joy with us. They have almost nothing, they are poor and exploited and still they shared. If only we in America could learn to do the same.
Peace, Jim
8-11-00
"What else would those people be doing?"
"What else would those people be doing?" I have been asked this question so many times. It has almost become the litmus test for whether or not what we are doing here has any meaning. I know that there are a few people who ask the question with genuine concern for the workers. "If they weren't doing this, would they be able to survive? Would they be OK? I'd be worried about them."
Then there are the majority of people that ask the question, "What else would those people be doing?" These are the people who want to feel OK about actively or passively contributing to the horror that is the workers' daily reality. They ask the question meaning, "Hey, those people are desperate, they should be happy they have those jobs. If they weren't doing this they would be starving, so they should feel lucky that they are making the little they are making from Nike." My gut reaction when I hear this is to want grab them by the collar and say "You self-righteous, privileged, #$%@! Is there a heart beating in that chest of yours?" To these people, if the question "What else would those people be doing?" is not answered, it justifies the exploitation in some warped way.
To be very honest, I do not know what the workers would be doing if they weren't working for Nike. How many of us would be able to answer that question for ourselves let alone thousands of people? What would you be doing if you weren't at your current job? There are a lot of factors to figure in aren't there? What would happen to the workers if Nike did not provide these jobs? Again, I do not know. But I do know what would not happen to them.
- They would not be working 10-15 hour days and not making enough to eat.
- They would not be screamed at and humiliated when they weren't meeting their production quota.
- They would not be forced to work overtime.
- They would not be threatened verbally or physically for trying to form unions.
- They would not have healthcare plans that do not meet their basic medical needs.
- They would not work 48-hour shifts when production quotas were high during American holiday seasons.
- They would not have their water supply polluted by factory waste.
- They would not have their once fertile farmland covered by factories.
- They would not be at the mercy of American companies that worked hand and hand with one of the most brutal military dictatorships in history.
- They would not have their economy dominated by foreigners that want to exploit their current situation and keep them oppressed for financial gain.
- They would not be reduced to cogs in the machine that feeds American greed and consumption.
- They would not be making American athletes and coaches rich from their sweat.
- They would not be helping to maximize American shareholder's profits.
- They would not have their hope taken away.
- They would not be dehumanized.
What else would they be doing? Once again, I'm not sure. Do I have to be? Most likely they would be poor and desperate, much like their reality now. They give so much to us in America. They give their hearts, their lives, their sweat, so we can be rich, in-style, comfortable, better athletes… They give us all of these things. But it isn't enough, we want more, we want to exploit them AND not feel guilty about it. So we smugly ask the question "If you weren't working this hard to serve our selfish wants what else would you poor, dirty, uneducated Indonesians be doing?" In asking this question we take from them the one thing they have left, their dignity.
I hope this answers your question.
8-10-00
The Real Heroes
We went "shopping" today. Of course we didn't buy anything, we can't afford anything on our salary, but we went to price out what it would cost to outfit a kitchen with the bare necessities. I think the item that caused me to think the most was the small kerosene stove that sells for 50,000Rp ($5.81), one week's wages. One week's wages to buy a stove that at best can slowly boil a pot of water to cook your rice. It's no rangetop, it's no microwave, it's a small kerosene stove!
I think about how excited I have been in the past when I have gotten a new job and a new apartment. Excited to take some of my first paycheck and buy some things for my place. Things for the kitchen, the bathroom, etc. What must it feel like to be poor and desperate; to come to Tangerang and get a job working for the largest sports apparel company in the world; to get your first paycheck and have the reality hit you in face like a sledgehammer that the only thing you can purchase with it is the food you need that week?
When we returned home from "shopping" we had a surprise waiting for us. At our gate were three young Muslim women, Adidas shoe factory workers. They had heard that we were here and what we were doing and they wanted to share their stories with us. They sat with us for an hour or so. Their stories were just as touching as all the other's we have heard so far. For those of you who ask, "Are any of the other companies any better?" No.
As we talked, they kept asking me, "Jim, will any athletes really care about us? Do they even think who makes their shoes?" I could only answer for myself and I felt so ashamed. I was embarrassed to be an athlete today. I wanted to tell them that there are hundreds of athletes and coaches that care. But the truth is, there aren't. I don't say this without experience. Having played soccer for 24 years, having friends and acquaintances at every level of college and professional soccer in the US, personally knowing players and coaches who receive money from endorsement contracts, I know they don't care. They just want their scholarship, they just want their free gear, they just want their check.
All these women want is for these players and coaches to know that there is a human being that made their shoes. These women just want players and athletes to care. But players and athletes don't care. Not the professional and college athletes I have spoken with. Again, they want their scholarship, they want their free gear, and they want their endorsement checks. And we call them heroes. These athletes and coaches steal millions of dollars from the mouths of these workers and their children each year. And we call them heroes. Do professional and college athletes and coaches even know these women exist? Do they even care? And we call them heroes.
The real heroes are these workers. They have faced more hardship and overcome more obstacles than any athlete I have or will be likely to meet. But will they be on the cover of Sports Illustrated? Will they get money from Nike or Adidas or Reebok to endorse their products? No, they'll just continue to make the shoes for our "heroes" and not be paid enough to eat.
 |
| Price of soap |
8-9-00
Starving for the Swoosh
I really can't remember that much about August 9th, it's all kind of a blur, for most of the day I felt dizzy, weak, and completely drained of energy. I do remember buying a bar of soap early in the day for 1,800Rp ($0.21). I thought I had gotten the cheapest brand, I found out later that I could have gotten the bottom of the barrel brand for 1000Rp ($0.12). I'm not sure if that extra 800Rp ($0.09) would have made a difference, my hunger was beyond anything I may have been able to purchase with it, wanting to stay clean would cost me.
By late afternoon I had reached a point of hunger and exhaustion I have never experienced before in my life. I was not physically able to bring a one-liter bottle of water to my lips without it shaking violently in my hand. Living on a Nike sweatshop wage has forced me to neglect my body, and my body is fighting back. I hope my mom doesn't read this.
How do the workers survive putting in 7-15 hour days of manual labor and having this little to eat? How can they keep a shard of their dignity? How can they or any human being be expected to feel human when each day is an exercise in injustice and humility? I almost passed out from hunger today. I live on a Nike sweatshop wage. There is nothing else to write.
Peace, Jim
8-8-00
The Bittersweet Taste of Feeling Human
We had no interviews scheduled today, no trips planned, just a day to rest, reflect and regroup. Leslie and I took the opportunity to casually research the cost of food, clothing, etc. In our wanderings we ended up at "the mall." By western standards it would be considered very basic, but it has everything one might need including a McDonald's and Dunkin Donuts. Yes, it has everything one might need, but almost nothing Nike workers can afford without seriously impacting their daily budget. I know, I tried, and it cost me later. I made the foolish decision of paying the princely sum of 2,000Rp ($0.23) for one chocolate glazed.
Each chocolate covered morsel I devoured was bittersweet. It made me feel human to share in this small delight, but with each bite I painfully realized that my chance for a more substantial meal of rice and vegetables was disappearing. This is not what life should be like. A Nike factory worker would have worked a 7-15 hour day today at a workrate that most could not bear, and they would have to choose between having a doughnut and eating dinner, or having a doughnut and feeding their children. This is so depressing.
How can anyone justify this stripping away of one's human dignity? I can recall a number of occasions when I was demonstrating outside Niketown in NYC and had retail managers, salespeople and passersby tell me I didn't know what I was talking about, that I was ignorant and uniformed. How did our hearts become so hard in America?
Peace, Jim
 8-7-00
A Visit to the Doctor
Little Susanti (pictured) is the most precious thing. She is the kind of child who just mesmerizes you with her presence. Susanti has been sick with a cough and fever for months now. She left our house the other day, crying, coughing, and burning with fever. Her parents do not have enough money to bring her to the doctor. We told her father, Sobirin, that we would like to take her. So late this afternoon we left their humble home to visit the medical clinic.
After arriving at the clinic we only had to wait a short time for Susanti to see the doctor. He examined her and prescribed some antibiotics for her cough and fever and a cream for a skin rash she has. The exam cost 15000Rp, the medicine 75000Rp, all totaled, 90000Rp and this clinic moderates its prices in comparison to other clinics because it caters to the lowest economic class in Tangerang. Nike's healthcare package for its workers is an allowance of 200000 per year. So in one visit to the doctor for a sick young child, almost half of that allowance would be spent. What is even more distressing is that the "allowance" is a reimbursement allowance. Meaning, if a worker wanted to go to the doctor, they would have to come up with the money first and then they would be reimbursed for it. When you are only making enough to meet your most basic daily food needs, saving money for doctor's visits is an impossibility, even if it means the suffering of innocent children like little Susanti.
After Susanti was examined we were lucky enough to speak with Dr. Lisa. Dr. Lisa said she is very familiar with the healthcare packages of factory workers. When I asked if Nike's allowance is enough to meet the basic healthcare needs of the workers, she replied very simply, "It is not enough." She also said that many of the workers have respiratory problems because of the chemicals used in the factories. What hit me hardest was her saying that most of the children of the workers are malnourished because their parents do not make enough working in the factory to feed them properly. Nike claims, "People around the world working in Nike contract factories are paid a fair wage, which often combines cash with allowances for meals, housing, transportation, health care and even bonuses." (www.nikebiz.com) This is an absolute lie. To see this child, to hold her, and to know that there are thousands more like her who are suffering because Nike ! wants to keep its labor costs down (deep breath) makes me so angry.
Peace, Jim
8-6-00
"No coffee, just cream"
It is Sunday, a day of worship, a day to connect with your community and with your God. I thought I would do something special for myself today, I was going to shave. Exciting isn't it? Unfortunately I do not have shaving cream or a razor. Off to the "mini-market." The total for one plastic disposable razor and a travel size can of shaving cream, 11,200Rp. The basic daily wage that I am living on is 10800Rp. I guess I will have to eat the shaving cream.
After I had finished shaving and was cleaning up, Anthony (labor organizer) happened to come over. I asked him how he felt about the fact that Nike workers would have to sacrifice a day's wage to buy a razor and shaving cream. In his wonderful broken English he said, "Make me very sad. Make angry." He continued, "But ‘Jeem', worker never buy cream, too much. Must shave soap. Hurt face, cut, very bad." I had made a mistake. I bought shaving cream. I will not count it against my daily budget as that would not be realistic and I know if I do not stay as realistic as possible Nike might try to dismiss this. What is amazing is that the reality is even more distressing. The workers cannot afford to buy shaving cream! They are grinding out 10-15 hour days for the most profitable sporting goods company in history and they cannot afford to shave before they go to Church!
With experiences like this I am wondering how anyone can believe what Nike says on their website. "Continued research into the well being of the people making our products reveals that minimum wage earners are usually able to meet their basic needs as well as to assist in supporting other family members or building modest savings." (www.nikebiz.com) When I read the above quote to Anthony he replied, "very very bullshitt." Enough said.
Peace, Jim
8-5-00
"Spilling the truth"
I spilt some kerosene today while I was trying to boil some water for coffee. No a big deal right? When you are struggling to survive on a little more than a dollar a day, a minor kerosene spill is catastrophic to your financial situation. First is the loss of the kerosene itself. Then I had to use a package of laundry soap to clean the spill up. Laundry soap that cost 1000Rp. This simple everyday accident cost me upwards of 1500Rp or 1/6 of a days wages. I can't imagine the panic and despair if a real emergency occurred.
This afternoon Leslie and I were invited back to meet with the workers I talked with yesterday. We had only been sitting on the hard cement floor for a few moments and one of the workers returned with a bottle of coke for each of us. A bottle of coke costs 1200Rp. They had just spent almost a full day's wage to feel like human beings and entertain their guests with a soda. I was overwhelmed by their generosity, speechless. As the interview went on, one of the girls broke into tears. She was telling us about the day she came to Jakarta find work. She had saved for years and was able to bring 400,000Rp with her to live on until she found work. She was pickpocketed and lost it all. She told us that every time she thinks about it she cries. I nearly cried with her.
In the evening we met with workers from a Nike factory in Balaraja. We were able to interview a husband and wife who both worked in a Nike shoe factory. They are two months behind on their rent. They do not make enough to eat. The wife cannot get pregnant and she believes it is because of the chemicals she has to use in the factory. What she told us next was incredible. She said that when monitors were visiting the factory she was told to lie about the chemicals she uses. Every day she uses R105, which is very harmful. She was told by the factory management say that she uses R107, which is not as harmful. She was told to lie to the monitors! I wonder if Price Waterhouse Coopers has that in any of their factory audit reports?
Peace, Jim
8-4-00
"First Contact"
For the first time since I arrived, I came face to face with Nike factory workers; four young women from a shoe factory in Tangerang. I humbly accepted their invitation to come to their home and speak with them. This was it. These were the women I had written about in my research. These were the women I had spoken on behalf of at countless rallies and now I was hearing their stories first hand. It was overwhelming.
They told me that they do not make enough money to meet their basic living needs. I understand what they mean. Today I had to buy detergent to wash my clothes. It cost me 1000 Rp. I will only be able to eat two small meals today because of this. It is so demoralizing.
What makes the situation worse is that the workers have no voice. They are void of personal empowerment. They know all too well that speaking up and sharing the truth can easily result in the loss of their jobs or worse. I'm not sure if my words here are conveying the level of terror that is fueled by their absolute desperation. They must have asked Leily at least ten times to make sure that I not mention their names or at which factory they work. In fact, they didn't want me to mention anything of our conversation; their fear is absolute. They have been reduced to cogs in the machine of production and have been robbed of their humanity to make the shoes we wear.
I remember once seeing a Nike ad geared towards women that said something to the effect of "Ask your boss for that raise today. Tell him what you are worth… JUST DO IT." How disgustingly ironic in light of the experience I had today.
Peace, Jim
8-3-00
"Hungry for food and justice"
I got my first taste of how it is to try and exist on Nike's basic wage today. With my budget of roughly 7200Rp I was able to eat two meager meals. It was about 11am when I had my first bit of food; plain rice, a very small potato pancake and a small bottle of water. This cost me 2500Rp. For dinner I had plain rice, a bowl of vegetables, water and tea. This cost me 4500Rp. So, on two simple meals, if you can call having plain rice a meal, all my money was spent. Remember that a Nike worker would have worked an eight-hour shift for that little bit of money and, just like I, would have only been able to meet their food costs for two meals.
I am going to bed extremely hungry tonight. I imagine that the workers feel this way every night. My stomach hurts, my head is pounding and my spirits are low. This is no way for human beings to live. What makes it even more distressing is knowing that both my alma maters (St. Joseph's and St. John's) are taking money from Nike, money that deserves to be in the hands of these workers, money they need to feed themselves and their children. It makes me sad. That may sound like a simple response to such a complex situation, but it is no ordinary sadness. It is sadness brought on by knowing that these schools that hold such a special place in my heart are working hand and hand with the oppressors (Nike) and by doing so have helped to maintain this desperate poverty, have become oppressors themselves and have lost God.
I do not know how the workers do it. I shouldn't say that. I do know how they do it, they struggle each day to barely survive in dire poverty. As Anthony, the labor organizer from SISBIKUM said to us today, in his captivating broken English, "The worker live to work and that is not live." He continued, "they have no time for relax, for rest." His final comment pierced me. "Because live like this, worker lose love for life."
Peace, Jim
8-2-00
Early this afternoon we arrived in Tangerang, the industrial suburb of Jakarta, where Nike operates some of its factories. Our "home" for the next month, a 9x9 cement box with very simple bedding on the floor, is right in the middle of an overcrowded, polluted and overwhelmingly poor area where many Nike workers live. The reality of this place is such that trying to explain it to anyone who has not seen it with his or her own eyes does not do it justice. Our "neighborhood," is filled with trash, lined with putrid open sewers, and framed by shanty houses that are dark, dirty, and desperate.
Tomorrow, August 3rd, Leslie and I will begin to "live" (perhaps survive is a more honest description) on the basic monthly wage that Nike pays the workers in their factories here. (325,000Rp or $37USD). This wage is remuneration for an eight-hour day (one hour for lunch), six days a week.
Below is a breakdown of the major monthly expenses of a worker.
| Expenses |
| Rent |
 |
35,000Rp |
| Electricity |
|
8000Rp |
| Water |
|
8000Rp |
| Transportation |
|
60000Rp |
|
| Income |
| Rent |
|
325,000Rp |
After meeting our major monthly expenses we each will have 214,000Rp to spend on food. This breaks down to 7133Rp per day. To give this some context, a simple meal of rice and vegetables that a worker would eat regularly costs 2500Rp. We will not even have enough money to pay for three of these per day! We have yet to mention buying other basic necessities like soap, shampoo, and toothpaste. What of other major expenses like childcare, healthcare, clothing, etc.?
Trying to live on the basic wage would actually not be the reality for a Nike factory worker, because as you can see from the information above, it is simply not enough. We will attempt it to demonstrate that the workers MUST work overtime if they are even going to try and come close to meeting their basic living needs. The reality is, even with 18-30 overtime hours per week; the workers still cannot make ends meet. It is, in a word, unjust.
Peace, Jim
8-1-00
"A Blast of Solidarity"
Leslie's eyes shot me a panicked look. Mike and I dismissed it as a car backfiring. In reality, just a few blocks away from the Human Rights Commission where we were waiting to observe a student demonstration, a car bomb went off outside the Philippine ambassador's house killing two and injuring dozens. Fear. Nerve endings completely exposed and raw. As I sit and write this, I am still feeling a little unsettled. But I am incredibly thankful for our safety and deeply humbled by the experience.
This is the reality of the emerging democracy in Indonesia. This is the reality that Nike exploits. The rules of the day are fear and desperation, which leaves plenty of room for foreign corporate exploitation. This theme of exploitation was so clearly defined for us earlier in the day by Surya Tjandra, a young lawyer from the Jakarta Legal Aid Institute, who has represented Nike factory workers on a number of occasions. He described the situation here as desperate.
His testimony floored me. I felt so sad. His emotional request that the Nike Corporation, see the Indonesians as human beings and not just means of production struck chords deep within my heart. His plea to Phil Knight (CEO of Nike) to search his conscience and open his heart nearly brought me to tears. "I don't know what to say anymore to you (Mr. Knight)… follow your heart… realize what you've done to us here, it's so bad, and you know it." "Nike is taking so much from us," he continued, and in return they are creating jobs that do not help the development of Indonesia, they just keep the status quo. I could feel his hunger for justice and peace. "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled." (Mt 5:6)
I feel more compelled now than ever to be a voice for these people. I tell you today that it is not enough to simply pray for them. It is not enough to take up collections of charity to feed them for a day. Their situation demands action, an action that is grounded in truth and pursues justice. Such action on behalf of justice is at the very root of what it means to live a full life as a human being.
I have never before understood the term solidarity in the way I do now. The Webster's pocket dictionary we have with us defines solidarity as "firm unity." I have, for the last 24 hours, felt a firm unity with the fear that is a daily reality for Indonesians; a firm unity with the desperation that they live with; and a firm unity with the crushing humiliation of exploitation that Nike inflicts on them.
Today, August 2, we leave for Tangerang to begin living with the workers.
May God keep all people, but particularly the poor and oppressed, safe today.
Peace, Jim
7-31-00
"Opting for the Poor"
As I write, it's just about 6am and there is a rooster crowing outside the door. I have been up since 4am (still adjusting to the time change) and am so full of energy and excitement that I cannot wait for the sun to rise and the day to begin. I am finally here! I am following my passion. I am seeking truth and trying, as best I can, to take the preferential option for the poor.
Our flight touched down safely just before 1pm local time yesterday. I was a bit nervous that there was no sign of Leily (our translator/guide) just outside immigration or near the baggage claim. But sure enough, as we came out of the arrivals area, through a mob of people, I spotted a makeshift cardboard sign with our names scribbled on it in black magic marker. I breathed a deep sigh of relief. I am happy to report that we have survived our first day, we are doing well and Jakarta is just as I remembered it, hot, crowded and overwhelming.
Following our introductions, we jumped into taxis and were off for the hotel. I still could not believe I was finally here doing this. This is the culmination of my almost three years of campaigning for justice for these workers. These are the people I put my job on the line for at St. John's. These are the people I have advocated for at countless rallies and in countless newspaper articles. I now have the honor and privilege to finally meet with them face to face. I must be honest; it is somewhat terrifying as well. In the next few weeks I am going to find out if my commitment and sacrifice were grounded in truth. I am faced with the very real fear that at the end of this, I might have to swallow my pride and say, "I was wrong."
We got to our hotel, settled in and soon were off for the SISBIKUM (worker's NGO) office. It was a very exciting way to begin our project. I had my volley of questions prepared and was quite excited to learn first hand, from these labor organizers, about the workers' struggle for justice. I cannot wait to meet the workers themselves. We plan to head out to our site on August 2nd and begin living in solidarity with the workers (on a dollar a day) on August 3rd.
We have a full day planned for today (August 1st). First we have a meeting with a lawyer who defends the workers when they get into trouble for organizing. Then we are off to a demonstration being organized by the students from the University of Jakarta. And hopefully, later in the day, we will meet with labor organizer, Dita Sari, who has been persecuted, jailed and lived in fear of receiving the death penalty for leading a strike of 20,000 Indonesian workers (see Amnesty International). I cannot wait!
I pray that God will be with us, more tomorrow.
Peace, Jim
For current journal entries,
click here
|
|
|
