Code Pink Journals CodePINK Journals

Work 4 Peace,Hold All Life Sacred,Eliminate Violence! I am on my mobile version of the door-to-door, going town-to-town holding readings/gatherings/discussions of my book "But What Can I Do?" This is my often neglected blog mostly about my travels since 9/11 as I engage in dialogue and actions. It is steaming with my opinions, insights, analyses toward that end of holding all life sacred, dismantling the empire and eliminating violence while creating the society we want ALL to thrive in

Sunday, November 07, 2010

Gila Bend and tucked in for the nite

I have pulled in Gila Bend, what looks like the biggest town between Phoenix and Mexico. I drove around a little, attempting not to seem suspicious as I circled, looking for an unobtrusive, quiet, 'safe', place to rest for the night.

Gila Bend appears to be one main street with several gas stations and even more hotels. There is something big off to the west of the town. If I was in L.A., I'd think they were 6 or 7 huge 6 story identical mansions in a semi circle; if I were in Iowa, I'd think they were some kind of grain vessels.

I've already passed a huge prison. I think there are too many lights (as in window lights) for this to be a prison.

It looks like people live here in small houses built low to the ground surrounded by desert plants and cactus.

I am parked for the night off the main drag on a side road in front of what looks like an empty lot in between a business and a low house that appears to be dog-less. I'm so exhausted I'm sure I'll sleep through anything tonite!

Down to the loverly wire

I'm exhausted but so full of joy this evening. I have taken care of so many last minute details today all over Phoenix beginning at dawn this morning, seeing my daughter and grandchild off, getting internet access and finding veggie oil; purchasing extra fuel filters from the auto place, stopping at ace and getting an extension cord (after failing to find a used one)and a supply of rechargeable batteries; printed out my Mexican auto insurance, and found Trader Joes for my last splurge of treats.

I've also had several interesting conversations with folks of course, several folks have photographed the truck, expressed their concerns, and many womyn have smiled, waved, and given affirmative hand signals.

I feel ready to cross the border. I feel ready to leave my life in the U.S. I feel so happy and truly free.

Those myths keep rearing their ugly heads...

There are so many myths the really good people of this nation have such a hard time facing. Yet until we do face these myths, and all the ensuing implications belief in such lies mires us with, will make us unable to make the paradigm shifts we have to make to survive.

Today, I have had such a conversation with people who are really good folks I'm sure. Yet they hold fast to the basic beliefs we as a people born in this country really, really want to believe. One such myth is that we have gone around the world helping people in order to spread democracy and freedom; another is that other people envy us and our lifestyles and want what we have; and that everyone in this country has choices, opportunities, and the ability to become 'rich' by U.S. standards if only they avail themselves of such choices, opportunities, and life style.

Afterall, how could new age religions have hold of so many of these 'good people'?

We don't want to see the truths: one, that we have gone around the world helping ourselves do other people's resources, making sure we (our corporations) are free to take what they want, wherever they want, from whomever they want.

two: I think the truth is that most people want to live in their own countries, that most people love their countries and believe where they live is the best, most wonderful place - or they would believe such things if they had not suffered colonization, genocide, rape, and the total destruction of the ancestors ways of life.

three: that opportunities and choices are available in abundance or scarcity according to where you fit on the scale from skin color, sex, class, religion, sexual preference, and the number of children you are responsible for supporting and caring for.

more later

Veggie Oil FOUND

...but I have to filter it myself. Okay-doke! I've done this but one free tank of filtered fuel and a few at $1.50 per gallon and I'm spoiled!

It is more that I'm worried about the quality of oil my filtration system will do, rather than the job itself.

It is kinda fun - when I'm not in a rush - to figure out how the hoses go, which end goes into which bucket, to plug my cords into my solar-run extension strip, switch on the pump and fill the tank! So totally 'off the grid'. YEAH!

Altho I truly hope my batteries haven't been compromised after consuming 3 gallons of distilled water yesterday...grrrrrr

Off to north Phoenix to filter oil! And then Gila to Lukesville to enter Mexico TOMORROW!

I'll have to print out my Mexican car insurance cards first - so much to remember to do!

Rain forest, organic coffee, and freedom!

Wow - there's a whole world of veggie oil folks out there and the easiest way to find them is to search for veggie oil conversion. I've learned this after spending hours searching for wvo (waste veggie oil), svo (straight veggie oil), vegetable oil - everything I could think of on craigslist, google, etc., following links, calling defunct or bewildered numbers!

I've just driven - my daughter and grandchild - all nite from Los Angeles to Phoenix so she can catch her plane home and I can enter Mexico . We’ve said our fond fare-the-wells and she’s off to Atlanta, I’m off to finding veggie oil.

Of course it is Sunday and this is Arizona so lots of places are closed today. The library is open noon-5, which is wonderful! Because I arrived early, I searched for an organic coffee shop with free wifi. I found a small café close to the interstate but when I arrive, the door is locked even though the business hours claimed they are open today.

A man comes to the locked door never-the-less and informs me that they were having water problems – a main broke – but he opened the door because he liked the message on my truck. The front, peace symbol was facing him, the old "pink slip bush" and "our soldiers are dying for your support.

I wonder which messages he's referring to.

He tells me how green his café is, organic, fair trade, with vegan and veggie options. He speaks of the rain forest and growing organically. He gives me a free cup of coffee (the air pots were full from the early a.m. when they did have water) and an organic homemade granola bar.

And this is after we walk around the truck and he reads everything. We commiserate about pesticides, destroying life, racism, and money-driven greed.

When I confess I am leaving the country, he is appalled. He spouts his love for this country and points out all the opportunities, freedoms, privileges we have here, like the right to speak our mind and vote.

When I ask him how often does he think people are jailed for speaking their truths, he says at least they're not tortured.

He rants about Hussein dipping his people in sulfuric acid by the 10’s of thousands, in public, and all the terrible people there are around the world hurting people. And waiting for a big powerful country like ours, to come rescue them.

He says of course we would want 'thank you' access to their resources for 'helping' them out.

I attempt to ask him if he’s sure of his ‘facts’ or did he think the corporate-run media wants him to believe such things, as obviously he’s a man who cares about the environment – and did he think the media was exploiting his feelings of caring by distorting ‘facts’ to get him on their side?

I attempt to ask him about which country did we go into to help the little people, as he obviously wants to be on their side.

He reiterates how much he loves this country. He is first generation ‘American’, like me but he is brown and most likely listened to his mom speak Spanish, as I listened to my mom speak Yiddish. I translate the messages on my truck.

He wishes I loved this country as he does – as I used to.

But he gives me coffee, treats, plugs me in so I can get on-line. He's a business-man first - or maybe he's thinking about everything we've talked about.

Then, when I leave, he who doesn't speak Spanish, tells me "vaya con dios".

Ah ha! I've stumbled upon a christian coffee house. I have had my coffee, internet connection, and treat. I tell him "vaya con lesbianas"