The Korima Run – Let's restore the balance

I’ve been truly blessed, in my recent life, to have been welcome and taught in several Native American cultures. Regardless of the obvious differences and despite the shameful, sad heritage I represent, I was always invited with open arms and hearts, with kindness and consideration. This display of pure Humanity has had a profound impact on me, on my world views and on the way I try to interact with others.

The Raramuri People of the Copper Canyons were the first in this series of encounters. For almost ten years now, I’ve had the immense privilege of getting to know them, of developing friendships and of learning some of their ways and the heritage of the wonderful, mystical place they call home.

One of my first worries when the COVID-19 virus hit the planet was the devastation it could potentially cause among Native communities. Then, as the crisis unfolded, I realized that not only the illness itself was a danger, but also all the consequences it carried with it. The world has locked down. More than half the Human population on Earth are under quarantine, fearful and deprived of basic liberties in a desperate attempt to contain the propagation and save the people most at risk. Businesses have closed, employment is scarce and help of any kind is hardly sent to remote locations.

My Mas Loco friends share my worries. A couple days ago, we were able to get news from the Barrancas and ask how our Raramuri friends are doing in these trying times. The news was not good.

The last crop season was bad because of the hot, dry weather and the yields in corn, chia, amaranth and other basic Canyons commodities was too low. This was made worse when the crisis started hitting Mexico. All around the Copper Canyons, there are small communities and farmlands which, in normal times, can sometimes provide a bit of work for local Raramuri people, who often travel far from their homes just to get a day or two of paid work, and then bring back meager sums to sustain their families. This already is a hard and uncertain life under usual circumstances. Now that we have to live with COVID-19, almost all these already-rare sources of income have disappeared. Those who have a little more are either not around or not able to share anything that trickles out in the communities. And sustenance farming hasn’t improved either. 

Above and beyond the looming risk of the coronavirus, Raramuri communities are suffering from its effects on social organization. Substance and alcohol abuse are on the rise, as well as domestic mistreatment and violence. The almost non-existent health facilities cannot deal with any kind of surge in case of a local flare-up. The grip of local powers hasn’t loosened either and the stress is ever present. Some of our close friends are doing very poorly right now. We are sad and worried. 

So we asked, how can we help?

With the incredible nobility I’ve always witnessed since meeting them, their answer came back. With the quiet, humble power of rolling thunder.

“Mother Earth has lost her balance and, with her, Humans too.” “Please join us to restore it”.

The Raramuri tradition is rich and mysterious, but one thing we know is their firm belief in the interconnection between Humans and the Planet. This is a great truth they share with numerous other cultures around the world. Traveling the Earth, moving and living on it using our own feet, is sacred and a very ancient, deeply rooted form of prayer.

So that’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to join our friends in the most Human way we know. We will all use our feet, wherever we are, to drum our footsteps onto Mother Earth in unison. We will show support. We will show respect. We will show kinship.

Some of us will travel one mile. Others maybe hundreds. Some of us will dance. Some will walk. But every single one of us is going to join a movement of hope and connection. We will create deeper meaning. We will unite our hearts and minds and try to restore a bit of balance. In our bodies, in our minds and definitely in our hearts. This is the idea of the Korima Run.

So here you have it. Between May 16 and 23, I invite you all to join us. Go outside, or even stay in, but spend a moment uniting with and supporting the Raramuri. Send us videos, photos, texts, songs, or anything you feel like to show you’ve been here with us, with everyone, in this important moment.

We are One.

May 16 - 23, 2020 - All over the world

Witness Haiti - An Untimely Conclusion

She's back. I know, I'd said I'd keep you posted about the Dragonfly's Haitian adventures and her mission, but things turned out otherwise. First, communication was difficult. The internet came in waves, making it difficult to have voice calls. It also appeared clear that there was a slight but real security risk of revealing where she was and what she was doing, so I refrained. Lastly, it seemed the same way for the NGO as a whole, because the organization has to deal with local politics, eager people and various interests.

In short, the situation in Haiti is complicated, for lack of a better word.

Waves of “Crisis relief” don't seem to have had a positive mid- to long-term effect on the country or its population. The poverty level is staggering, and there doesn't seem to be a simple path to mitigating it either. The presence of dozens of NGOs, whether temporary, quasi-permanent or permanent, complicates logistics, politics and attempts at structuring the backbone of a country that has been broken for a long, long time.

It seems like the population has come to a point of despaired acceptance, and that personal initiatives are rare and often deemed to failure. The underlying “humanitarian” culture brought in by international attempts at helping Haiti has created needs and channels deeply ingrained in the fabric of society, which is never a good thing. People were not meant to live in temporary shelters brought in after the 2010 earthquake, 6 years later. They weren't supposed to rely on a constant stream of distributed food and basic items after the bulk of the various catastrophes was over.

What was supposed to happen was different. Governments should have taken over the UN and Red Cross shortly after the initial traumas that shook the country. Local people and groups should have been in charge of reconstruction, helped by international materials and experts, only if needed. Local leadership should have grown from the grassroots. A general sense of purpose should have emerged out of the need to make the country stronger and better prepared for the inevitable future disasters.

Instead, local mobs rose to power. Governments gave in to corruption and complacency. Positive projects and local initiatives were ignored or remained unsupported. Unsustainability was not addressed. Empowerment didn't happen.

So it seems that what's left today is a handout culture, created in part by international aid, worsened by dysfunctional governments, rampant organized crime and millions of unkept promises.

How does one navigate such a murky situation? Can good will be transformed into positive action in a country that seems to miss its backbone? What happens when foreign projects end and the expatriates go back home? What remains in the wake of serial catastrophes when no attention is given to local empowerment and the rebuilding of society as an organized group of able, functioning humans?

These are difficult questions which one could argue are only the prerogative of those sitting on the sidelines. I can't help myself but wonder, however, what would have happened if, years ago upon the first occurrences of disasters, focus had been centered on putting the People back together, on facilitating the creation of functioning local structures and on supporting budding initiatives which empowered the communities and made them responsible for their future.

I think it's our duty as Humans, whenever we are trying to help others or improve a situation deemed unfavorable, to consider these important questions with the utmost humility, devoid of any other interest than the one of those supposed to benefit from our actions. But when those don't seem to have the will to take things over and step up to the task, or when they are so impeded that any action is doomed to fail, I'm at a complete loss as to what should or can be done.

The Train of Life

Photo credit: Sylvie Vachon

Usually, when we go for a run, we answer a call from our bodies to go out and play, breathe and enjoy some time out in nature. Yesterday, hundreds of runners answered another type of call. We gathered in the village of Nantes, where about two weeks ago, a train filled with gasoline was left unguarded for the night, broke loose from its brakes and started a deadly descent to the town of Lac-Mégantic, where it derailed, exploded and killed in excess of 50 people, most of whom were enjoying a happy night with friends at a local bar.

Since that fatal night, all we hear about is desolation, grief and destruction. A local journalist and runner, wondering what he could do to bring at least some measure of relief to the disaster-stricken people, decided to call upon runners from all over Quebec to bring moments of kinship and support to our brothers and sisters of Lac-Mégantic.

The symbol was powerful; instead of a train of death hurling down the hill from Nantes in the night, a lively, colorful train of running people took the same route under the sun to bring much-needed hope and smiles, if only for a brief moment.

I was unsure I could make the trip until the very last moment, when my friends Nick and Josée suggested we share the ride down and join other friends on site. It took only a few minutes before we bumped into Jack, Sylvie and a group of friendly runners we ended up running the whole distance with.

Photo credit: Robert Skinner, La Presse

Among the crowd, running people from everywhere, men, women and children alike. There was even a stop that was planned at the 8k mark, so that the group could pick up non-runners and walkers who wanted to join the demonstration.

Upon entering the town, rows of people had lined up to welcome us, waving, smiling and wiping tears. We smiled back, cheered, blew kisses and gave high fives all the way, until the crowd and the long line of runners blended together in the town’s park where, for a moment, it seemed that all was right again on the hills of beautiful Mégantic.



Readers who would like to help in the emergency efforts at Lac-Mégantic can donate to the Canadian Red Cross Relief Fund.