Chocolate and Child Labor

Did you know: that chocolate candy you love so much may have been produced with the help of child labor in West Africa. Happy belated Halloween! It's a very unfortunate mistake to consider the world rid of slavery, which is especially heartbreaking in the case of children kidnapped from their homes for a life of dreary, often dangerous manual labor. I am unfortunately not as well versed in this subject as I'd like to be, so for that there are lots of links and even a BBC documentary.

[I know, I quit blogging for a month and come back with this sad, sad story. I'll get less concerned in the next post or two, so come back for those!]

First, I was not even aware that this happened [although I must admit, I wasn't terribly surprised] until I read this post from Kristen Howerton:

The Inconvenient Truth About Your Halloween Chocolate and Forced Child Labor

The picture below is a photo of a young child gathering pods to harvest cocoa beans. There are hundreds of thousands of children in West Africa who do this work. Young children. Children who should be attending school and having a childhood. And they are working for most of the mainstream chocolate providers in the USA. A report from the International Institute of Tropical Agriculture about cocoa farms in the Ivory Coast estimated there were 284,000 children working on cocoa farms in hazardous conditions. Some of them have been taken from their families, or sold as servants. U.S. chocolate manufacturers have claimed they are not responsible for the conditions on cocoa plantations since they don't own them. This includes Hershey, Mars, Nestle, and the US division of Cadbury . . . who collectively represent pretty much every snack-size candy bar that will be available in stores this Halloween. 

Chocolate: The Bitter Truth

I know it's a long five parts, but this documentary gets to the heart of this tragedy, with interviews of children working on cocoa farms and parents who had their children torn away from them. [As per usual with the BBC news, it is very well done and very, very heartbreaking.]

I hope that we can do something about these mega-companies using cocoa harvested by child slaves. The obvious answer is to only buy fair trade, but there are a few other ways to help as well.

From Problem to Solution: Practical Ideas for an Ethical Halloween

The chocolate companies are well aware of the human rights abuses in the farms they are buying from, but unfortunately it is the profitability that is driving the ship, not ethics. I really do believe that consumers can change things. I think back ten years ago, when organic food was a fringe hippie thing that you could only by at specialty stores. Now, nearly every mainstream grocery store is producing their own line of organic foods. Consumer demand is what drives the market.

Lastly, this is the headline I happened to notice on MSN a little while ago. I don't remember EVER seeing or hearing or reading about the child slavery issue specific to chocolate, so I felt like the universe was telling me I needed to get back to the blog.

Hershey Shareholders Sue for Child Labor Records

The complaint says that reports about the systemic use of child labor, forced labor and human trafficking on cocoa farms in West Africa caught the eye of the U.S. House of Representatives as early as 2001. The House passed a proposed amendment to the FDA and Related Agencies Appropriations Act that would require "slave-free" labeling for cocoa products.

Before that amendment could go to the Senate for a vote, the lawsuit notes that major cocoa producers -- including Hershey -- promised to solve the problem in-house without pressure from lawmakers. Those companies signed the Harkin-Engel Protocol to eliminate illegal child labor in high cocoa-producing countries in West Africa, but the lawsuit contends there is ample evidence that the companies failed to comply with its terms.

Hopefully this becomes a big deal for the media and people actually start to acknowledge the fact that a lot of the products we buy are so cheap because of slavery and sweat shops and unfair, unsustainable business practices. Hopefully.

In the meantime, I won't be buying candy [not that I do anyways] and will try to avoid those companies that are doing the least to end child slavery in their supply chains.

I'm Cheating on My Novel

You read that right. I'm cheating on my novel.

I knew this had to happen eventually. I've been getting closer and closer to this day, flirting with other ideas and taking time away from Delaney and More Blessed. By now, I think this could officially be called a full blown literary affair.

The problem with MB is two threefold. A) I've plotted too much of it out in advance so now I don't feel compelled to finish and B) I'm not that excited by or interested in it anymore and C) I hate technology and that idea calls for too, too much modernity with its trains and air conditioning and DNA tests.

This is more my style, technology wise.

This other shiny new [and by new, I mean not worked on] idea took the chance to make its move. It whispered in my ear, "Look, this story happens in 1950ish! None of that pesky technology! But we still have trains! You love trains, don't you!"

Yes. Yes I do.

And with that, I was a goner. Before, it had just been snapshots of tense moments. Then I wrote the opening scene, and kept going, and kept going after that. Tentative title Cells. It's about spies. I love me a good spy caper. It's also got some treason and some conspiracies and some revolutions and some moles and some almost-Russian mobsters. All things that I DO find super exciting.

And fake passports for everyone!

[And when even that seems to modern to me, I can always take a break with my witchy Victorian-ish England-ish novel that I also started recently. No reason to stick to one genre, now is there?]

To top it all off, I'm toying with the idea of doing it in dual-POV except still third person. Just to make things more confusing for everyone :)

There's also a cute little multilingual kid. Just for the cuteness.

On a semi-related note, I've also discovered that hand-writing works better for me. Microsoft Word is not so great at keeping me on task. Even with the Internet turned off. Hence, the amount of time it takes to get a single blog post written. Also, the ridiculous number of games of Hearts...and Spider Solitaire...and Minesweeper...and Freecell...and Spades that I play. Thank goodness for all my scrap paper. So take that, computers!

[Actually, don't take that comment to heart, laptop. I really enjoy you working again.]

Finding Meaning in the Modern World

Confession: I spend way too much time on the Internet.

I'm pretty sure I've referenced that fact here before. It's been a recurring problem, except for that glorious and tragic stretch of time that my charger was still broken and I had access to computers only as long as the campus computer labs were open. I got so much reading done during those two months.

But recently, I've had excess access. I can't even feel guilty about turning my laptop on to check one little thing because there is always a computer on in the house. Usually at least two, now that we got a replacement for one that died. And the one likes to wake itself up so the screen is always inviting, always tempting. [I know, it's a terrible American thing of us to be so wasteful and it drives me insane.]

I am not very good at resisting that kind of temptation.

If only my cat weren't so fat and lazy, he could do an intervention for me.

And so I spend all this time, doing...stuff? I follow all these blogs, read all these articles, laugh at all these memes, and then? Forget most of the content the next day.

I have this weird, OCD habit when I start to follow a new blog, that I try to read through all the previous blog posts. The entire archives. Sometimes years and years worth. There are still a couple I haven't even finished yet. The other day, an author was deleting a bunch of posts, all of which I had gone back and read, and I was relieved that I hadn't missed my chance. I was thinking about it later, and I couldn't remember what any of them were about. Why had I needed to read a hundred something posts? And sure, they were wildly entertaining when I did read them. But did it matter?

That's what I'm coming back to more and more these days: does it matter? As I sit in this comfortable little big house and eat my privileged meals and drive my efficient car and use all this water and electricity. What am I doing to matter?

It feels like most things on the Internet are so temporary, so meaningless. The social justice parts of it, I really love. The sharing of ideas, spreading of open-mindedness. The ideals of what being online could be. And there's lots of places that aren't like that at all, places that I try desperately to avoid because they just make me sad for the future of humankind. Then there's all the art on display. The authors, the painters, the musicians, the filmmakers, the actors, the dancers, the photographers, the people doing crafty things because they love it. There is meaning to be found in art, a deeper connection across all of us that I long for.

I found this image and proceeded to read 5 pages worth of comics.

I'm still struggling to rectify these two ideas, filling a life with campaigning, raising awareness, spreading healing and also with beauty, entertainment, suspension of reality. I have to remind myself that all the reading and TV watching and gossip following that I do is not wholly in vain. My brain needs a chance to relax, unwind, rid itself of all the garbage that gets into it every day.

And I am not embarrassed to acknowledge that sometimes, the best way to do that is to watch a movie where nothing makes sense and everything blows up.

Email! Disability Update! Romania?

I have had a super fabulous week and I'm not going to gush on and on about how nice it was, but it was very nice and finally kind of busy. Which I LOVE. I need to be busy busy busy because I get bored really easily.

[While typing that, one of the busies almost became busty...erm, not quite the same thing.]

I'm still getting that last bit of summer mode out of my system and settling back into sort of a routine of job searching - which I will not talk about much here because I talk about that with everyone in real life - so this is not going to be too meaningful or soul-searching.My brain is quite obviously too spastic for that at this moment.

First, after a couple of comments, I made an email that I don't mind making public and where I can be reached if anyone wants to contact me. If all I get is spam, I'll be deleting it, but I'm hoping that this will both make me more accountable in actually getting posts written AND make me some new friends. I'm trying to figure out how to add this in its own line to my profile description, but I am decidedly not blog-layout-savvy. Also, I am having trouble deciding what I really want this email name to be.

For now, you can contact me at: corinne.rambles@hotmail.com

[Side note: I always wanted a pen pal and finally got my parents to sign me up for an international one. I got matched with a girl from Romania, oddly enough, and wrote her this long, detailed letter about my life. Which I never mailed. Thus ended my only pen pal experience.]

This is totally relevant because having Internet friends is kind of like having a Romanian pen pal, right?

Secondly, there is this petition that so closely relates to my last post on disabilities. Apparently, and sadly I must say it doesn't surprise me too much, the state of Florida is sending kids with special needs to nursing homes instead of providing the assistance their families need to care for the kids in-home. So the kids, who have loving and non-abusive families, are being taken away so the state doesn't have to pay for services. Even though the state does have to pay a lot for the kids to be institutionalized.

You would've thought that institutionalization would be universally recognized as NOT IN THE BEST INTERESTS OF THE KIDS by now.

[Today is apparently a Romania sort of day. Too bad this didn't happen a couple of weeks ago when I realized my church attire was the Romanian flag. Not even on purpose! Red shoes, yellow dress, blue sweater.]

So even though this might not actually get much accomplished, Stacie Lewis [writer of the Amazing Half-Brained Baby blog I linked last time] started a petition to get these kids back with their families and receiving services because she realized how little media attention the issue was getting.

You can read more about it and please take the time to SIGN HERE.

Who wouldn't want to live somewhere that looks like this?

[For one final bit of Romania tying-in, the book I've been thinking about lately is primarily set in an alternate-world version of Romania so yesterday I was reading about Bucharest. Coincidences are my favorite things ever.]

We Should Talk About Disabilities

Lately, I keep seeing articles popping up in the news and on blogs about people with disabilities. With my degree, I took a bunch of classes that either directly or indirectly discussed how disabilities - the ones we usually think of as terrible curses/burdens and the ones we don't think about at all - affect the family and the educational system and the workplace. So I have been well-versed on the topic and still there are new things out there every day for me to consider.

It's interesting to compare how disability, and the various types of disabilities, is treated in the media and in different countries. It seems to me that the poorer the country, or the family, the worse off the people with major disabilities are. Not necessarily through any fault of their families, but due to the inter-generational transmission of ignorance or lack of services or the often astronomical cost of caring for children and adults with different needs.

But then there's a difference we don't usually hear about here, between the U.S. and Europe, because national health care and social services take better - and cheaper - care of people with disabilities than for-profit companies in the States. Of course, they're worrying about funding cuts now too.

[Not that there aren't good people doing good work for people with disabilities at home too. There are. I just see the vast difference in what is provided in Europe and what has to be sought out here. In fact, I briefly toyed with the idea of going into Early Childhood Intervention because I think they're brilliant for Americans when it comes to children accessing services.]

No matter where or what magnitude it is, it's sad for me to see people with disabilities so marginalized by society. We wouldn't like to think it, with our legislated equality and whatnot, but we're failing them.

We fail them when we call them "the disabled" rather than a person, who happens to have a disability. We fail them when we focus on what they can't do, rather than what they can. We fail them when we pity them or offer sympathies without offering solutions or help.

We fail them when NBC doesn't give any useful coverage to the Paralympics.

We fail them when a school demands a boy get his name changed because it violates their policy.

Instead of comic relief for a tragic Shakespeare...how about cuteness relief for an angry rant?

Another one that means a lot to me - and I would say this is technically related more to illnesses/medical conditions rather than "disabilities" - is when we fail to acknowledge the invisible sufferers. The people who don't "look" sick but suffer from chronic fatigue, or fibromyalgia, or depression, or cystic fibrosis, or anxiety, or...or...or. The ones who, on top of living with this extra burden, have to explain to people that they aren't faking being sick. They aren't looking for your criticism or your advice or whatever. They just want to live as normally as possible for them.

It astounds me that, as much of a capacity for kindness that humans have, we are so quick to fall into this blaming-hurtful-ignorant-critical mentality. A person who is living with blindness, or deafness, or paralysis, or a cognitive impairment, or...or...or, shouldn't have to deal with that kind of crap. They are inspirational just as every single one of us is inspirational in our unique way. No one gets away with having it all in life. We each have our own personal issues to struggle through.

And no one, no matter what, should have their journey trivialized or marginalized. [Although I must admit, there is certainly a limit to my empathy for sociopaths.]

So please, be aware of how you talk about disability. Technically, it's called person-first language. It really does make a difference in terms of attitude towards the individuals we so often described [and still sometimes describe] as a group. Be as aware as you can about policy and current issues, or be ready to listen if someone explains them and their effects to you. Really, I think everyone should be like this about everything, but especially for the more sensitive parts of the human experience.

Some great articles and blog posts I've read about normal people who are also impacted by disability:

The Greatest Sporting Event You've Never Heard Of

It's a Shame Paralympic Opening Ceremony Wasn't Seen By All [If anyone knows where to find the whole ceremony online, I would appreciate the link!]

School Demands Deaf Boy Change His Sign Name

Mama Lewis and the Amazing Adventures of the Half-Brained Baby [I couldn't think of one post that I wanted to share more than others, so if you're interested, this is the author of the first article. Her little girl is the cutest thing ever.]

Three Day Whirlwind

The Olympics' Facebook page told me the other day sometime in the past week that the Opening Ceremonies happened a month ago. And that means that we were in San Francisco watching them a month ago, and it's kind of embarrassing that it's taken me this long to write travel posts about it. So I'm getting it done today - one final wrap-up for the last three days.

We started Day Three by actually getting to the Museum of Modern Art, where we split up and spent several hours wandering and wandering. It was fabulous. Of course, I also love art museums, so I was bound to think that. But this one really, really was wonderful.

And sparkly :)

We took a long train/bus ride to the beach, where we got our feet wet and generally ran around in a very silly fashion. I even walked through the sand. It was kind of terrible, especially since we didn't get back to our hotel to wash our feet for hours.

But there was a pretty flower.

We then proceeded to the nearby Golden Gate Park to hang out at the California Academy of Sciences. We spent some blessed minutes inside a 80 degree rainforest and then experienced a fake earthquake. The simulator thing was very hyped all over the city but it wasn't that exciting. The exhibit that went with it was interesting though.

You had to check for butterflies before you left to make sure none got out.

Since we were just more or less across the street, I said we should go to the National AIDS Memorial Grove. It was beautiful. We only stayed for a few minutes, but the trails there seemed very magical. It was almost like being back at Machu Picchu, wandering through the Inca mists.

Occasionally, and for good reason, I get sentimental about nature.

We were then very hungry and decided to find somewhere to eat near to where we were. After some wandering through a not very touristy area and almost giving up, my sister pointed across the street and said, "That looks like a restaurant." And it was. And it was a delicious, delicious fancy Italian place. And we ate tons and tons of food.

Day Four came, too bright and early, and we started off making our way to the Painted Ladies for my mumsy. They were painted and very popular with the tourists. It really wasn't all that exciting because there is just SO MUCH gorgeous old architecture in San Fran. Especially compared to the suburbs.

The best picture with the least amount of random tourists in it.

Then we got to my sister's favorite part of the trip: shopping forever and ever. Specifically, vintage shopping forever and ever. Which I am okay with up to a point. I almost got a fancy designer dress - Marc Jacobs, maybe - for $20, but it was too small. Also, a beautiful, beautiful of Italian-made Robin Hood boots exactly like the kind I've been wanting for ages and ages, but again, too small.

This is the street to shop on. Even the guidebook said so!

Meanwhile, my father went and found a place to eat, which was the lovely Red Victorian that I had pointed out across from our last shopping stop. We had some tasty, tasty vegan BBQ chicken. And it tasted just like chicken. Then, because the place was quirky and cutesy and owned by a lady who had previously lived in a commune in Hawai'i [because, why not?!] we took a tour of all the funky themed rooms. So if you're ever in San Francisco, you should stay there.

We took the bus through El Presidio, just to check that off the list, then hurried through the Palace of Fine Arts, because I thought it was lovely. Then we tried to find the Maritime Museum, but failed through some mislabeling on the building. It had closed earlier that it was supposed to anyway. [Okay, well, earlier than the information desk thing we called to ask what time it closed told us.]

Fancy, fancy, fancy.

This lack of finding things upset my sister, who wanted to go to the only Gay/Lesbian History Museum in the country, which would have been cool, but she had just spent too darn much time shopping for us to get everything done. From the pier area, we walked over to the trolleys. However, because it was super crowded and we apparently like doing everything backwards, we hiked uphill to the twisty Lombard Street and took the Trolley back down, because taking the trolley is something every tourist has to do.

Photo proof. We were literally on it for two minutes. Or thereabouts.

Then we had a tasty, tasty seafood dinner at this place my mom noticed while we were on the bus. And we went back and got a table in the tiny, tiny restaurant and it was wonderful.

Saturday was literally a whirlwind day. We got up even earlier, sped downtown, and then split up. My dad and sisters went back to Golden Gate Park and saw some buffalos or something. Meanwhile, my mom and I went the historical route and toured the Mission Dolores and her Basilica.

I took about 100 pictures here, but not any good ones of both the Mission and the Basilica. The original Mission is the smaller white building.

We did a little wandering in the Mission District and then headed back to our Caltrain station to await the rest of the family. After some goofing around and picture taking, both on and off the train, we got back to the hotel, grabbed our stuff, hopped on the hotel shuttle and got to the airport. And then we had to wait in the security line for ages, meaning we didn't have lunch for ever longer. [I do not enjoy being hungry, clearly.] And that's about it. The plane didn't crash, we I savored the warm weather, and now summer vacation is a month in the past.

Just kidding! I graduated, so I'm on permanent vacation until I can find a job! Commence teasing sister who has to wake up at 5:30 and begging people to hire me.

Brain Dump

I had my first job interview yesterday! Hopefully, the first of not too many before I actually get a job. Plus, my sister got dropped off at college today! But since that meant I actually had to get up before noon for two days in a row AND do lots of driving, I am completely exhausted. So I've just been moseying around the Internet and I want to share some of the things I've enjoyed reading in the past couple of weeks. There's lots of disturbing and inspirational and intriguing stuff out there.

[Okay, and I want to get to post something without having to do any work. That's how I roll. I was going to say that but upon further reflection, it just sounds stupid coming from me.]

VICTIM OUTS RAPISTS ON TWITTER:  A teenage sexual assault victim took to Twitter to out her assailants and now faces jail time. "The public humiliation culminated this June, when her assailants struck a plea deal on charges of felony sexual abuse and misdemeanor voyeurism that Dietrich felt amounted to a “slap on the wrist.” And the court had an order for Dietrich, too: Don’t talk about it, or risk 180 days in prison and a $500 fine."

ELEGANT REMINDER OF OLYMPIC HISTORY: Larisa Latynina won 18 Olympic medals in gymnastics for the Soviet Union, but she attended swimming Tuesday night. Michael Phelps was racing. He was trying to beat everyone in the pool and Latynina’s record as well. And when the moment came, she knew exactly what a great champion should do. She put on her lipstick. 

I still think her medals are way more impressive, but I am a bit biased.

EVERYDAY SEXISM PROJECT: The Everyday Sexism Project exists to catalogue instances of sexism experienced by women on a day to day basis. They might be serious or minor, outrageously offensive or so niggling and normalised that you don’t even feel able to protest. By sharing your story you’re showing the world that sexism does exist, it is faced by women everyday and it is a valid problem to discuss.

PUSSY RIOT CLOSING STATEMENTS: Charged with “hooliganism motivated by religious hatred,” Maria Alyokhina, Yekaterina Samutsevich, and Nadezhda Tolokonnikova were first arrested in March. Five members of the Russian feminist punk band staged a guerrilla performance on the altar of the Cathedral of Christ the Savior in Moscow. For less than a minute, the women danced, singing “Our Lady, Chase Putin Out!” and crossing themselves until they were apprehended.

PATERNITY LEAVE IN SWEDEN: In Sweden, men must take two months' paternity leave to receive generous paternity benefits offered by the government. Some men are now pushing for a third month. It has given rise to a culture of "latte dads" who hang out in Stockholm's plentiful coffee bars.

MANATEES!!!: Sea cows help mow local backyard after flooding.

You cannot tell me that this isn't the cutest thing ever.