Häusliche Pflege: Hilfe für Helfer

Wer einen Angehörigen pflegt, braucht Unterstützung. Der aktuelle Newsletter der Initiative “Erfahrung ist Zukunft” stellt Service-Angebote im Internet vor, die pflegende Angehörige bei der Suche nach Beratung unterstützen.

Die Pflege von Angehörigen kann zu Überlastungssituationen führen und psychische Probleme bereiten.Foto: picture alliance/dpa
Zum Jahresbeginn sind weitere Verbesserungen bei der Pflege in Kraft getreten – unter anderem durch ein neues Begutachtungssystem und mehr Geld für Pflegeleistungen. Doch welche Beträge und Leistungen stehen wem zu? Das Internet informiert – und liefert Kontaktdaten von Ansprechpartnern, die weiterhelfen, wenn bei der Pflege Unterstützung notwendig wird.
Sport kennt keine Altersgrenzen. Den Beweis liefert Rita Buchholz, die wir in der Reihe “Mitten im Leben” vorstellen. Die 66-Jährige ist begeisterte Läuferin und engagiert sich im Sport. Vor Kurzem ist sie von der Leichtathletik-WM der Senioren in Australien zurückgekehrt. Ihre Geschichte zeigt, warum Bewegung gerade auch im Alter wichtig ist.
Weitere Themen im Newsletter: Das neue Bundesprogramm Mehrgenerationenhäuser und ein Vermittlungsportal für “Seniorenjobs”. Passend zur Jahreszeit beantworten wir die Frage: Wer muss eigentlich bei Schnee und Glatteis die Gehwege räumen?
Erfahren Sie mehr im aktuellen Newsletter.

Montag, 6. Februar 2017

Ontario Investing in Entrepreneurship Training for Indigenous Artisans

“The end goal is to provide the Indigenous artists and vendors with an open and supportive environment, offering healthy and creative shopping choices while promoting local and regional food producers and artisans. This meeting place will be safe and inviting, and active in fostering a positive sustainable community in Toronto’s Indigenous community.”

Paul McLeod

Project Coordinator, Native Canadian Centre of Toronto

Upgrading and Expanding Living Spaces for People with Developmental Disabilities

“Investments like these are critical in helping agencies like Community Living North Halton build capacity which in turn will help us in addressing waitlists. We foresee a lot of people requiring residential care and supports in the years to come. Investments like these will be important to agencies across the province in supporting those who are most in need.”

Greg Edmiston

Executive Director, Community Living North Halton

Ontario Expanding Beer and Cider Sales to 80 More Grocery Stores

“This is another step in getting beer and cider into 80 new grocery stores and helping to increase convenience and choice for shoppers across the province. We’re continuing to move forward on our commitment to make the biggest changes to alcohol retailing in 90 years – and we’re well on our way. Selling alcohol is a public trust, one that I know our current authorized grocers take very seriously. I encourage all grocers who are interested in taking on this responsibility to consider this opportunity for their business.”

Charles Sousa

Minister of Finance

AG Derek Schmidt: Latest Defense Department documents on Guantanamo relocation indicate awareness of potential illegality

TOPEKA − (February 6, 2017) − Officials in the Obama administration were aware as early as July 2015 that congressional funding restrictions might render unlawful the administration’s plan to send survey teams to potential U.S. mainland sites for detainee relocation, documents released last week show.
On Friday, the U.S. Department of Defense released the latest group of documents in response to a Freedom of Information Act lawsuit filed last July by Kansas Attorney General Derek Schmidt. The lawsuit seeks documents describing administration planning to relocate terrorist detainees from Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, to sites on the U.S. mainland, potentially including Fort Leavenworth.
Like previous groups of documents, the new release of 140 pages was heavily redacted with most pages rendered entirely illegible. But one document (#1268) shows that in an email sent July 28, 2015, Department of Defense officials discussed the possibility that congressional funding restrictions might prohibit the sending of survey teams to potential relocation sites on the mainland.
The email began: “Not sure if you read the clips in the morning. There was an article that asserts we can’t even send teams under current law.” All of the remaining text in the email is redacted, so it is impossible to tell what discussion or analysis of the funding restrictions ensued. Despite that concern, survey teams were later sent to U.S. mainland sites, including Fort Leavenworth.
This is the fifth group of documents released in response to Schmidt’s lawsuit, State of Kansas, ex rel. Derek Schmidt v. United States Department of Defense, in the United States District Court for the District of Kansas, Case No. 16-cv-04127.  
The administration of President Donald Trump has said it will not relocate detainees to the U.S. mainland. Nevertheless, the Kansas attorney general’s office plans to release remaining documents provided to it by the Department of Defense pursuant to the FOIA lawsuit.
The documents released Friday to the attorney general and made public today, along with documents previously released pursuant to court order, are available at http://bit.ly/2f7Ty8Z.

Of Another Time: Frederic Tuten Remembers Harry Mathews

Poetry News
By Harriet Staff

Frederic Tuten

Frederic Tuten remembers Harry Mathews, who passed last month (we’re still in disbelief). Tuten met Mathews “in the summer of 1988 or 1989 at a garden party at the painter Larry Rivers’ house in Southampton,” as he writes for Literary Hub. More from this piece:

Although Harry was only six years older than I, he seemed of another time. And he was. He belonged to that fading world of Americans who prized European culture—French especially—and he had gone to live in Paris and had found a home there in a culture that historically favored the unusual, the radical in literature. He was the only American member of Oulipo, the distinguished anti-surrealist group comprised of, among others, Georges Perec, Italo Calvino, and Raymond Queneau, my editor at Gallimard for my first novel, The Adventures of Mao on the Long March. The Oulipians worked not with anarchic flow of the unconscious but with rigorous—sometimes mathematical—parameters for their prose and poetry. I felt a kinship with his wish to avoid the traditional, realist narrative of storytelling, and with his turning away from poetry as a manifestation of personality. He was mon semblable—mon frère! I wanted to tell him that.
The party drifted into a candle-lit night, and I brooded on the disaster of my meeting Harry. I watched as he drank and ate and had fun, seeming so different from the reserved man I had met earlier; once in a while he sent me a heartening, friendly salute.
I stayed at the party for a while, and having felt that I had made a fool of myself, I made the rounds to say goodbye. At that moment, Harry came over.
“Why are you leaving?” he asked. “The night’s just started.”

Read it all at Literary Hub.

Tags: Frederic Tuten, Harry Mathews, Literary Hub
Posted in Poetry News on Monday, February 6th, 2017 by Harriet Staff.

Spring Offensive: In Search of Chế Lan Viên

By Hai-Dang Phan
About the AuthorChế Lan Viên (1920-1989) is the pen name of Phan Ngọc Hoan. He was born on October 20, 1920 in Đông Hà in Central Vietnam, and grew up in Quy Nhơn further south, and started writing poetry at an early age. His first collection, Điêu Tàn (In Ruins), published in 1937 when he was seventeen, gained him notice as a poet of original, if morose, sensibilities. His preface to his first collection included a statement of aesthetics for the “Disordered” (Loạn), also known as “Mad” (Điên), school of poetry. During the late 1930s and early 1940s, he was associated with the Bình Định Group of poets. By the mid-40s, his poetry and politics underwent radical transformation. He participated in the events of the August Revolution of 1945, in the Quy Nhơn area, and in 1947 officially joined the Communist Party. Afterwards, he wrote for a number of journals, including Quyết Thắng (Resolve to Win) in support of the Việt Minh’s movement against French rule. After the Geneva Agreements of 1954, Chế Lan Viên returned to Hà Nội, taking on responsibilities as a leading member of the Writers’ Association of Vietnam (Hội Nhà Văn Việt Nam). After the fall of South Vietnam in 1975, Chế Lan Viên lived and worked in Hồ Chí Minh City (formerly Sài Gòn). A prolific writer, he remained active in the literary scene, producing poetry, essays, memoirs, and commentary and criticism until his death in 1989. He was married to the novelist Vũ Thị Thường; their daughter, Phan Thi Vang-Anh, is also a writer. Among Chế Lan Viên’s many works of poetry and prose are: Điêu Tàn (Ruins), Vàng Sao (The Yellow Star), Thăm Trung Quốc (Visit to China), Gửi Các Anh (To My Brothers), Những bài thơ đánh giặc (Poems to Fight the Enemy), Đối thoại mới (New Conversations), and Giờ của đô thành (City Hours). In 1996, he was posthumously awarded with Vietnam’s National Literature Prize.
ErrataSometime in the mid-1930s, he met a young woman named Trần Thị Thu. Thu is my paternal grandmother. She is the “you” in a few of his love poems.
Spring and FallHe was four years older than her, a young poet and teacher, the son of a low-level clerk, and also from the same province. By the time they had met, he already made a name for himself in literary circles. She came from a prosperous, educated, and respected family. Her mother, killed by roadside bandits after she put up a fight using her martial arts, had become part of the village folklore. Her father was the head of the Agriculture Department of Bình Định Province, in the South Central Coast region, and he disapproved of their relationship. It was foolish, improper, and impractical. She was sent up to Huế, the capital city, to attend their famous all-girls high school, along with her younger brother, Khuê, who would go to the all-boys school and be their father’s eyes and ears. But teaching posts were not difficult to come by for a poet like him. He was able to follow her to Huế. And instead of being her father’s informant, her younger brother Khuê became their liaison and messenger, arranging rendezvous, delivering letters, poems, and books. Her schooling went well. She was reading a great deal. She was writing too, and even published some of her own poems, though in smaller, lesser known magazines. This period must have felt like an idyll on the banks of the Perfume River. Independence and anti-colonialism must have also been in the air. So ancient Huế, a city within a city within a city, provided them with another, perhaps better, setting. When her father finally realized his plan had backfired she was ordered back home. There was a respectable bachelor, a young Agricultural Engineer, who had just returned from Paris. The marriage was going to be in the spring. At least they would have one last fall.
On MetaphysicsWould you recognize your soul if you bumped into it?
Blackout. Ho Chi Minh City. March 2008.The first time I heard my grandmother speak about Chế Lan Viên was during the afternoon blackout. It was my spring break, and I was in Vietnam with my father. I was still a PhD graduate student, half-heartedly researching a dissertation on literature and reconciliation after the Vietnam War, though mostly just reading poetry and feeling bad for myself about not writing it. I was told that my grandmother’s health was in rapid decline. That the family had to hire a caregiver. You should spend some time with Bà nội, my father said.
So I spent that spring break in Vietnam marooned in my Bà nội’s freezing bedroom, wrapped in a blanket watching my grandmother watch a popular Korean soap opera called “Winter Sonata.” The air-conditioner—or “cold machine” in the literal Vietnamese translation—never seemed to not be pumping artic air. Which is why the scheduled blackouts on Monday afternoons were a particular source of anxiety. Would she die of heatstroke without the cold machine? How could she take her medicine on time if the clocks weren’t working anymore?
On the afternoon of the blackout, we moved my grandmother’s blue folding chair out into the front room where it was cooler. The front room was where guests would normally be received, where my grandmother kept her books, and where the small shrines to the dead were placed. It was my father who prompted her to tell me the story of the poet. She seemed more than happy to oblige. Though her short-term memory was unreliable, she had no trouble summoning that long ago love or reciting the poems he wrote to her. And not only his poems, but also lines from Baudelaire and Rimbaud, which she recited in her school girl’s French. My father captured part of this reception scene on video. I like knowing that somewhere there exists lost footage of Trần Thị Thu telling Phan Hải Đăng about Chế Lan Viên.
Two years later, in 2010, I left the PhD program, dissertation incomplete, and drove from Madison, Wisconsin to Gainesville, Florida, where I would chase a beloved idea of the writing life. One of the least embarrassing poems I managed to write during the first year of my program era was “Blackout,” which recollects that afternoon in Vietnam with my grandmother. In the poem I edit out my father, though he was the one to get her to talk. Chế Lan Viên, who goes unnamed in the poem, is the young poet who “called on fall to block the coming spring.” My grandmother is the “you.” Poetry’s lyric address lets me speak to her in English, as if she might perfectly understand. I would cut the last stanza now and end with:
ThuYour name means Autumn. You were married off that spring.
Bright StarAnother bright on the literary scene in the late 1930s was a young man from central Vietnam who wrote under the pen name Che Lan Vien. His reputation was based primarily on one slender volume of poems, entitled In Ruins, published in 1937 when he was only seventeen years old. Although he was Vietnamese, his poems are mostly about Champa and written from a Cham rather than Vietnamese point of view. It seems, however, that behind his preoccupation with the long-crumpled glories of Champa, deemed worthy of countless centuries of lamentation and regret, lay a view of Vietnam in the 1930s as a decadent and dying society whose true glory was “in ruins.”
These early poems of Che Lan Vien are sad, musical, pensive, and metaphysical, containing an element of controlled madness. They often border on the grotesque. Death, decay, mutation, and grief were his favorite and most successful themes. Che Lan Vien’s early poetry had a strained intensity, expressing a desperate quest for sensation, for meaning, for reassurance. Yet whatever he sought lurked beyond his grasp. His frenzied search for respite from a disconcerting sense of lonely individuality was hampered by the morbidity he projected onto everything he saw.
—from Understanding Vietnam, by Neil L. Jamieson (University of California Press, 1993)
The MessengerI met him in the summer of 1999, during my family’s first return trip to Vietnam. We were going to visit Bà nội’s younger brother, I was told. He was a retired Colonel in the North Vietnamese Army. We often stayed with him whenever we needed to hide from authorities, back when my father was planning our family’s escape.
Wait, Bà nội’s brother was an NVA Colonel? That was news to me. In our household, VC and NVA spelled enemy. They were why we left. They imprisoned my father in one of their re-education camps for four years and, as my mother often put it, threw him into a larger prison called the Socialist Republic of Vietnam. They were why we risked death at sea and sought a new life in America. This revelation would be one of the first cracks over the years in the story my family told itself about itself.
Ông Khuê’s house was in Thủ Đức, a district about ten miles from central Saigon. It was like Saigon’s Beverly Hills before ‘75, I recall my father trying to explain to me. Before the last days of Saigon in April 1975, the house belonged to a high-ranking officer, an Army doctor, of the former Republic of South Vietnam. It was a kind of safe house for us. No one would bother a decorated Colonel, a hero of the revolutionary struggle, about housing puppets of the American imperialists.
Laughing, Ông Khuê told me how I used to be afraid of my own shadow. He remembered me playing in the courtyard and in the living room, right here and out there—his finger pointed to a sunlit courtyard beyond memory. The window curtains were bathed red and almost see through.
Born AgainHuy Can, Xuan Dieu Luu Trong Lu, and Che Lan Vien were among the most alienated and disturbed poets of the 1930s. Their poetry at that time revealed extreme individualism and preoccupation with their own inner feelings. What they seem to have felt, however, was mainly loneliness and despair. They had not celebrated the joys of individualism; they had expressed its anguish. Then, as revealed by their poetry and confirmed by what we know of their lives, they had been rejuvenated by their participation in the Resistance War and their conversion to communism during the mid-1940s. Party discipline combined with membership in a tightly knit, highly organized social group had enabled them to slough off the oppressive weight of individualism and provided them with new and satisfying identities.
To them individualism was dead and not to be mourned, while the rediscovered virtues of collectivism had taken on almost religious significance. Revolutionary Marxism-Leninism not only provided them with a touchstone for attaining mastery over society and even nature, it offered a metaphysical basis for confronting the previously frightening prospects of life and death. These men were now thriving. Both their personalities and their lives were more highly structured and better integrated. They had become integral parts of an efficacious collectivity that transcended their own lives both sociologically and temporally, like the families and villages of tradition, like the wide seas and long rivers that served as apt metaphors in their poetry.
—from Understanding Vietnam, by Neil L. Jamieson (University of California Press, 1993)
On the August RevolutionIn my grandmother’s version of literary history, the poet Chế Lan Viên did not go North to join the Resistance purely out of love for country, but also due to a broken heart.
The Killing FieldsMy Vietnamese has slid back into obscurity, at least for now. Born in Vietnam, I grew up in Wisconsin speaking English like the Midwesterner I became. Vietnamese wasn’t so much banned at home; it was still the language my parents spoke to each other and often enough to me, as it was allowed to be choked off by English. It wasn’t until graduate school that I attempted to relearn my forgotten mother tongue. The official reason was PhD research. The unofficial reason, I suppose, had to do with my own private search for lost time. For a few years there, I spoke Vietnamese moderately well, though I fared better on the page reading and translating. Translation let me assume memories that were not my own. Translation also turned out to be my way back to writing poetry. 
Attempting to overcome writer’s block a few years ago, I seized the issue of The Vietnam Review (Spring-Summer 1997) that had somehow come into my possession. A quick glance at the table of contents reveals six poems by Chế Lan Viên, all from his first book, Điêu Tàn (In Ruins). Those pages are dog-eared. The poems appear in Vietnamese with enfacing English translations by Huỳnh Sanh Thông. None of the poems were to my grandmother, but there was one to a skull that I liked. “Cái sọ người” (“The Human Skull”) spoke to me. I enjoyed its exuberant preoccupation with the macabre and the metaphysical. I probably identified with the existential wreck of its Hamletian speaker. I envied its speed and attack, its erotic directness and over-the-top death drive. My own poems sounded nothing like this. I made a new translation of the poem, though it might be better to call it a spirited imitation, furious version, or soul graft “after” Chế Lan Viên.
On TranslationYou have to desire something in a poem to translate it well. The poem should prick you, draw blood. Your blood stains stain me.
Autumn in RuinsMy grandmother’s name is hidden in plain view, smuggled into Điêu tàn (In Ruins) through that common poetic trope: autumn. When I e-mailed my father for clarifications, he tracked down mentions of “Thu” in poems from Chế Lan Viên’s first collection, searchable online in Vietnamese. These are just his “raw” translations, he noted. I have slightly “cooked” them:

Ô hay tôi lại nhớ thu rồi…(Oh! Each season I miss Autumn again)
Mùa thu rớm máu rơi từng chút…(Autumn bleeds drop by drop)
Một cánh chim thu lạc cuối ngàn…(A solitary autumn bird lost at forest edge)
Đường về thu trước xa xăm lắm…(The road back to Autumn remains far off)

A Daughter’s MemoriesNow and then, I followed father and attended conferences or classes where he was to lecture about poetry and literature. There, people would reserve for him a front-row seat, and young women and men would come and greet him, talking about some of his writings or about a recent book of his. I just listened, and each time the thought recurred to me: ‘Shame on me! I know nothing at all about my own father!’ I followed him on such trips just for the fun of it, and I hardly noticed what topic he was to lecture on or what kind of speech he was to deliver. I only paid attention and made sure that he had combed his hair, that he had folded back the collar of his shirt, that he had not forgotten his eyeglasses.
—from “A Daughter’s Memories,” by Phan Thi Vang Anh, translated from the Vietnamese by Huynh Sang Thong, in The Vietnam Review (Spring-Summer 1997)
At the Western StoreHer father was said to have spoiled her with a great many things. Such as a horse.
In 2001, my grandmother got to visit the U.S. for six months, long enough to attend my sister’s high school graduation party, catch our hometown’s Fourth of July parade, see the leaves turn color and carpet the ground, give out candy on Halloween, and listen to the crunch of snow underfoot. We also took her to the Mall of America.
At the Mall, I was chaperone and interpreter, wondering how to explain the cultural significance of Camp Snoopy or the bared torsos of the live models outside the Abercrombie & Fitch to Bà nội. When we walked by the RCC Western Store, with its decorative wagon wheel pinned on the wall, she was pulled inside as if by some invisible lasso. It was the cowboy boots.
Bà nội once had a horse, she said grinning, referring to herself in the third person.
Ice Storm. Des Moines, Iowa. Mid-January 2017.The National Weather Service has issued an Ice Storm Warning for central Iowa. The view from the window by my writing desk gives me the illusion of sitting in a lookout tower. From here, the river is a frozen conveyor belt of clouds. The black birds are broken off letters scattering in the arctic wind. The empty parking lot is an unexplored ice sheet. My thoughts drift over these pages like snow erasing the road. In front of me is his poem “Spring.” I remember printing out the copy shortly after hearing my grandmother recite the poem from memory. The page is covered with my glosses and definitions. They are the traces of my abandoned attempt to make a start out of particulars: bring back to mind; to be sad, sorrowful, melancholic; pick up, gather; fresh flowers; to be dispersed, dislocated, broken up; way, direction, path; to be drunk, intoxicated; to hinder, check, impede; crumble, dying, decay, wane; bird of autumn; lost on the horizon; tired wing; disappear…. I can’t tell you much else about the life and work of Chế Lan Viên, and I’m not sure this is even about him in the end. Maybe he is just a magnet for these accidental filings, secondhand memories, and autobiographical apocrypha.
On the Uses of PoetryBurning the books, her father said, “Can poetry feed you?” Of course he would use that metaphor. Yes, it can and does.

Tags: by Phan Thi Vang Anh, Chế Lan Viên, Huynh Sang Thong, Neil L. Jamieson
Posted in Featured Blogger on Monday, February 6th, 2017 by Hai-Dang Phan.

LA Times Reports From the Last Stateside Reading of Exiled Iranian Poet Mohsen Emadi

Poetry News
By Harriet Staff
The LA Times went to the Poetic Research Bureau to see the last Stateside reading of exiled Iranian poet and translator Mohsen Emadi, really bringing home the reality of the ban against seven majority-Muslim countries, if it’s not already. “Emadi leaves Friday for work on a digital poetry project in Finland, after which he will return to Mexico,” writes Agatha French, who wandered down the infamous Chung King Road to report on the reading. Emadi read from his first book in English translation, Standing on Earth (Phoneme Media, translated by Lyn Coffin):

David Shook, Phoneme’s founding editor, sets up a card table with Phoneme’s books for sale; it publishes poetry in translation. Shook, with a waxed handlebar mustache, is unmistakable; introducing the reading, he stands before us in huaraches and tweed.
Shook opens with a kind of epigraph, a stanza from Langston Hughes’ “Let America Be America Again,” throwing Trump’s “Make America Great Again” slogan some poetic shade. Emadi, who has been in exile from Iran for eight years and now lives in Mexico, gives the reading his own preface.“Resistance is the only thing we have,” he says. “It’s not a question of hope…. Hope sometimes doesn’t work. Our daily life gets to have meaning from our resistance.”
Emadi reads each poem in Persian, after which Shook reads the English translation. As a listener, you discover quickly that longing and nostalgia sound the same in any language, but far from being repetitive, this two-part structure seems an ideal way to experience a poetry reading: The first performance gives the audience an opportunity to listen for the pleasure of the language alone, for the texture and musicality, while only on a second pass does metaphor and meaning begin to consciously sink in.
The Persian speakers in the audience, of course, understand both readers, but can listen on the second round for the closeness and nuance of the translation.

Find the full reading report at the LA Times.

Tags: Agatha French, Mohsen Emadi, Phoneme Media, Poetic Research Bureau, The Los Angeles Times
Posted in Poetry News on Monday, February 6th, 2017 by Harriet Staff.

Free Seminar Will Share Latest Research and Treatment Advances for Vision Loss Due to Retinal Degenerative Diseases

A free seminar on vision health will be held at the Best Western Plus Dallas Hotel and Conference Center, 8051 Lyndon B. Johnson Freeway on Saturday February 25, 8:00 AM – 1:00 PM.
Seminar speakers include Dr. Sai Chavala of the North Texas Eye Research Institute presenting on the role of regenerative medicine in vision rehabilitation. Dr. Chavala is the Director of Retina Services at Dallas Eye Care and ICON EyeCare.  In addition, Dr. Stephen P. Daiger of the University of Texas Health Science Center at Houston will discuss the ways in which identifying the gene mutations that cause retinitis pigmentosa help patients and their families.
An estimated 10 million people in the U.S. and millions worldwide have or are at risk of losing their vision due to retinal degenerative diseases including age-related macular degeneration, retinitis pigmentosa, Stargardt disease, Leber congenital amaurosis and Usher syndrome. 
Seminar seating is limited; advance registration is recommended.  To register call 866 647-0008 or visit www.FightBlindness.org/Dallas/FtWorthSeminar.
The Foundation Fighting Blindness’ Vision Seminars are free to the public and sponsored by the Foundation and its Chatlos Foundation Public Health Education Program.  Since it was established in 1971, the Foundation has raised more than $700 million for research on preventing, treating and curing blindness caused by retinal degenerative diseases. Through its support of focused and innovative science, the Foundation drives the research on preventions, treatments and cures for retinitis pigmentosa, macular degeneration, Usher syndrome and other inherited retinal diseases. 

Defenders of Wildlife Apoya Nuevas Propuestas de Ley Que Bloquearán Construcción del Muro

PARA PUBLICACIÓN INMEDIATA: 6 de febrero 2017
Contacto: Catalina Tresky: (202) 772-0253 o ctresky@defenders.org
 
WASHINGTON (6 de febrero 2017) – La representante Michelle Lujan Grisham (D-NM-1ero) presentó el jueves una propuesta de ley ante la Cámara de Representantes, H.R. 837, “Construye Puentes No Muros”, con el objetivo de prohibir la construcción de un muro o valla continua a lo largo de la frontera suroeste. El lunes, Adriano Espaillat (D-NY-13ero) presentó una propuesta de ley similar, H.R. 739, “Esta Tierra es Nuestra Tierra”, que prohibiría al Secretario de Seguridad Nacional construir nuevas barreras fronterizas en tierras públicas bajo el mandato del Secretario de Agricultura o del Secretario del Interior.
Para más información sobre los impactos del muro, consulte el informe de Defenders of Wildlife, En el Límite.
Jamie Rappaport Clark, presidente y directora general de Defenders of Wildlife, declaró:
“Hay muchas razones por las que la construcción del muro fronterizo es una mala idea. Además de dividir a las familias y promover una agenda racista y xenófoba, el muro fronterizo también dividirá y aislará los paisajes del suroeste y empujará a las especies vulnerables como jaguares, lobos y ocelotes a su extinción. Esta barrera exageradamente costosa e impenetrable acabaría destrozando el tejido de nuestros valores fundamentales: la igualdad, la justicia y la preservación de nuestro patrimonio natural.
“Defenders of Wildlife apoya a los representantes Lujan Grisham y Espaillat y sus propuestas de ley, los cuales preservarían a la vida silvestre y las tierras públicas en los Estados Unidos. Sus acciones contra este destructivo muro reflejan la gran dedicación que ellos tienen a nuestros valores americanos y nuestra relación de gran importancia con México. Alentamos a otros miembros del Congreso a tomar la misma iniciativa.
“Un muro fronterizo no resolverá problemas para las personas que buscan una vida mejor y para la vida salvaje que lucha para sobrevivir; sólo los creará o los exacerbará.”
Más información
La Vida Silvestre en la Frontera
Se han construido más de 600 millas del muro en los cuatro estados fronterizos del sur: California, Arizona, Nuevo México y Texas.
En California, las barreras fronterizas afectan a más de una docena de especies amenazadas, incluyendo el sapo Arroyo que se encuentra en peligro de extinción y la mariposa Quino. Cualquier extensión del muro fronterizo dividirá el río Tijuana, por ejemplo, que corre a través del Valle de “Marron” en el condado de San Diego y el área protegida de Jacumba. También cortará rutas migratorias importantes para las ovejas de carnero de Península, devastando los esfuerzos de recuperación. En Arizona, el muro de la frontera afecta significantemente al desierto de Sonora — donde viven los antílopes en peligro de extinción, los búhos pigmeos y las tortugas — y las Islas del Cielo, así nombradas por las “islas” de hábitats boscosos.
En Nuevo México, los hábitats importantes se encuentran en “el talón” del estado, un mosaico de tierras públicas y privadas manejadas en gran parte para la conservación. También hay tierras extensas manejadas por el Servicio Forestal que son vitales para la migración de los jaguares entre los E.E.U.U. y México. En Texas, estas barreras impiden que las personas y los animales accedan al Rio Grande, una fuente de agua vital para las comunidades y la vida silvestre.
Política del Muro Fronterizo
La Sección 102 de la ley “REAL ID” del 2005 otorgó al Secretario del Departamento de Seguridad Nacional un poder sin precedente para renunciar a cualquier ley federal, estatal o local para construir carreteras y barreras a lo largo de la frontera. Esta exención ha sido invocada cinco veces para eximir al departamento de más de 35 leyes ambientales para construir caminos y barreras en la frontera, incluyendo la Ley de la Política Ambiental Nacional (NEPA), la Ley de Especies en Peligro (ESA), la Ley de Antigüedades y la Ley para la Mejora del Sistema de Refugios Nacional para La Vida Silvestre.
En el 2006 el Departamento de Seguridad Nacional, el Departamento del Interior y el Departamento de Agricultura emitieron un Memorando de Entendimiento que estableció metas, principios y guías sobre la seguridad fronteriza, incluyendo formas de minimizar y prevenir un impacto significativo en los recursos naturales y culturales y como aplicar la Ley de Especies en Peligro y otras leyes, reglamentos y políticas ambientales.
El día 25 de enero de 2017, Presidente Trump firmó una orden ejecutiva que autoriza la extensión del muro fronterizo.
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