I get it: they lost (again) and they’re pissed. HCR is now the law of the land, but this is nothing less than terrorism:
Federal and local authorities are investigating a severed gas line at the home of U.S. Rep. Tom Perriello’s brother, discovered the day after Tea Party activists posted the address online so opponents could “drop by” and “express their thanks” for Perriello’s vote in favor of health care reform.
The gas line to the home’s propane tank was slashed, according to sources who spoke on condition of anonymity.
The incident is being viewed as an attempted threat to a member of congress, sources said….
Danville Tea Party leader Nigel Coleman was one of the activists who posted the home’s address online Monday.
Yet another escalation in the ever growing pattern of racially charged imagery, violent rhetoric, and paranoid conspiracy theories born of the GOP’s so-called ‘grassroots’ supporters. If these are grassroots, this nation needs a healthy fucking dose of Round-Up.
I think this morning is the first quiet time I’ve had to really sit down and think about our achievement on HCR Sunday evening. That night, I was too caught up in the thrill of victory to think about how we got there. Monday night I was out of town chaperoning my kid brother at an eardrum-shattering post-hardcore concert, and afterward, I spent most of Tuesday grappling with the epiphany that I feel much older in the wake of being amidst all those rowdy, loud, carefree kids than I’ve ever felt before… So it wasn’t until this morning that I got a chance to really sit in my home in solitude and quiet and mull over the process and the implications of this accomplishment. I am awash with emotions, and the only thing to which I can liken this feeling is the way I felt in the days and weeks following the 2008 elections. Yet in some ways, for me, this is a more stunning triumph still — I have, after all, been an advocate of health care reform for far longer than I’ve been a supporter of Barack Obama.
But as my mind wanders, the feeling I keep coming back to is gratitude. There are a lot of people to thank — a lot of people who had a hand in the passage of HCR. But the name that stands out foremost is Nancy Pelosi.
In addition to hoes and shovels, more and more farmers in sub-Saharan Africa carry another agricultural “tool”: a cell phone.
Over the last decade, cell-phone use in Africa has increased fivefold, and farmers are using their phones to gain information about everything from markets to weather. For example, farmers can find out prices before they make the long trips from rural areas to urban markets, giving them the option to wait to sell until prices are higher. Agricultural extension agents and development agencies also use mobile phones to communicate with farmers, letting them know about changes in weather that could affect crops.
Farmers and agribusiness agents in Zambia are also using cell phones as bank accounts, to pay for orders, to manage agricultural inputs, to collect and store information about customers, and to build credit. Mobile Transactions, a financial services company for the “unbanked,” allows customers to use their phones like an ATM card, says Mike Quinn, Mobile Transactions General Manager. An estimated 80 percent of Zambians, particularly in rural areas, don’t have bank accounts, making it difficult for them to make financial transactions such as buying seed or fertilizer. But by using Mobile Transactions, farmers are not only able to make purchases and receive payment electronically, they are also building a credit history, which can make getting loans easier.
Mobile Transactions also works with USAID’s PROFIT program to help agribusiness agents make orders for inputs, manage stock flows, and communicate more easily with agribusiness companies and farmers. Perhaps most importantly, the partnership helps agents better understand the farmers they’re working with so that they can provide the tools, inputs, and education each farmer and community needs.
In addition, e-banking and e-commerce systems can help make better use of agricultural subsidies. Mobile Transactions worked with AGRA and CARE to develop an e-voucher system for obtaining conservation farming inputs. Farmers receive a scratch card with funds that they can redeem via their phones to purchase tools or other inputs from local agribusiness agents. Unlike paper vouchers, there’s no delay in moving the money, and farmers can get what they need immediately, such as seed during planting season or fertilizer when it can be used most effectively. And because donors are using Mobile Transactions to distribute the vouchers, they’re acting as a stimulant to the private sector, rather than distorting the market.
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This letter was originally posted on TPM. I wouldn’t normally post a complete copy here on the Moose, but the author made this statement in the comment thread.
It would make my day to be plagerized far and wide! Feel free to link to or copy and post anywhere you like.
Posted by AmericanDad
Russell King AKA AmericanDad deserves a lot of credit for putting this together. It must have taken a lot of work. Kudos to him.
Sunday evening, as a long-debated health care bill passed through Congress, something quite strange was happening on the websites of two eminent news organizations.
Here was Fox News, Sunday night:
Fox News, of course, is famous as an embodiment of the right-wing machine. Yet its web page that night looked like a resounding endorsement of the health care bill. There is a dignified picture of the president, in a room full of celebrating aides. The picture is titled, in big white font, “This is what change looks like.”
Self-sacrifice in war is no more noble than self-sacrifice in peace. When a soldier dies in combat we honor that person for giving his or her only life so that others may live. It may be so that other soldiers can live or it may be in defense of one’s country. We honor those who give their lives in the horror of murder that is War.
Not all of us will wear the uniform and answer the call to fight for our country. I did and I live on while some that I know do so, no longer.
Duty. Honor. Sacrifice. Country. Patriotism.
These words are not the province and reward of only soldiers. They are the birthright and cornerstone of citizenship.
Cross posted from Border Jumpers, Danielle Nierenberg and Bernard Pollack.
Bugs. When I remember of Zambia, I think of bugs.
It started when a mysterious little creature bit Dani on the side of the head, we spent hours monitoring the swelling bite as it inched near her eye, applying cortisone, and praying that we wouldn't have to go to the clinic. Thankfully, Dani's head didn't explode and the bite went way.
But her adventures with the insect world weren't over. The next day, as we were lying down on the bed in our hostel, Dani jumped up, shaking her head from side to side.A cockroach had crawled into her ear and refused to leave. For the record, we're not sure if it ever came out (gross, but true).
Despite a mosquito net, our favorite bug repellent (Dani has a new found love for chemicals), and wearing clothes head to toe while we slept—the bugs were everywhere.
Even at our local internet cafe cockroaches were crawling over the keyboard and we didn't dare open the drawers of the dresser in our room—better not to know what else was also calling the hostel home.
Bugs aside, Zambia was our of my favorites countries. There's not a lot of infrastructure, or DSL, or tourist destinations to visit in Lusaka. And definitely not a lot of food options for the vegan/vegetarians (thank Vishnu and Shakti that there was one Indian restaurant within walking distance). Yet, in this medium sized city were some of the nicest people we've met yet on our journey and where we had some of the most frank conversations with agricultural aid workers.
You immediately feel safe in Lusaka. People are proud of the fact that during the day anyone can walk nearly anywhere, despite the fact that we didn't see a single police car. Zambia is also laid back. Don't expect many places to have "take-away" cups for your coffee, and don't expect any meal your order at a restaurant to arrive in under a half-hour. But the culture of being relaxed, sitting down to enjoy a meal, and allowing the day to float by, is something I will deeply miss as we continue to travel. No one seems in a rush in Zambia and no one rushes you.
Jan Nijhoff, who sits on the advisory group of Nourishing the Planet, served as a terrific host. In only three short days we had an incredible set of meetings with CARE , COMESA , Community Markets for Conservation (COMACO), the World Food Program , USAID , and others. As part of our visit, Jan took some of the most experienced staff from various organizations to engage in a frank and open discussion on a wide range of topics that included: misuse of donor money, the role of the market and private sector in sustainable agriculture, developments in cell phone technologies to aid farmers, carbon trading systems, and so much more.
We spent hours with Jan having exhilarating conversations that range from the fluctuations in maize pricing to the prevalence of outdoor hockey rinks in the Netherlands.
We also met with an environmental reporter named Benedict Tambo with the Zambian Daily Mail. Benedict lamented the fact that businesses were ordering fewer and fewer papers and a rising number of people impacted by the economic downturn were choosing food over their daily news. To maintain his environmental beat, Benedict also writes sports news, and sometimes even entertainment. The troubles seemed all-to-familiar with those faced by the newspaper industry in the United States.
We stayed at a fun hostel called KuOmboka, at 20$/night for a private room with fan. The place has a bustling bar that attracted far more locals than tourists. The 24-hour internet cafe, accessible laundry facilities, and the pumpkin leaves on the menu were the real selling point. The place was extremely friendly, people genuinely trying to be helpful, and down the street from a lovely Indian restaurant that had all-you-can-eat vegetarian tali for four dollars. We also tried various traditional Zambian foods, and I watched Dani eat an entire bowl of Maize meal, called "nshima," which admittedly didn’t taste that bad. The local beer is called Moshi. It's a light beer and when I told a Zambian it reminded me of Budweiser, he was truly insulted. Even after I told him: "But I like Budweiser!"
We spent Saturday night as spectators, visiting a local club called Brown Frog and watching Zambians get down with some intense rumba and salsa dancing while we downed jack and cokes. Zambia has a real "joie du vivre" and I watched as people smiled and glowed as they danced. People were dressed to the nines, the woman sporting decadent dresses, and the men sporting their dress shirts. Some of the couples had clearly been practicing, as their moves seemed so fluid they'd been choreographed for the crowd.
We also visited an organization created by a North Carolinian named Dale Lewis, whose life's work has been in testing methods to have the most impact possible on conservation and in reducing the pouching of wildlife. After years of trial and error, his data showed that lifting farmers from poverty through providing access to a market, offering training, and fair wages, was the single biggest factoring in protecting wildlife. The growth, size, and scope of his operation was mind-blowing, employing hundreds of staff that involved thousands of farmers. Dale's dream is to make COMACO and it's brand (terrific nuts, honey, and peanut butter) self-sufficiant. He says that he is 70 percent their, while receiving training from Minneapolis-based General Mills, and support from Howard Buffet, the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, and others.
It rained nearly the entire time we were in Zambia, and after three straight days of downpour, and flooding on the neighboring streets, we wondered if our ground floor hostel room would soon be under water. After many months of drought the rain seems to be coming at the wrong time, too late to help farmers harvest crops. People were clearly getting nervous as newspapers predicting an entire week of rain.
While it is easy to find companies willing to take you by bus the nearly 25-hour route from Lusaka to Johannesburg, it's another story to get to Zimbabwe's capital Harare which is a stop along the route. We found a company whose transport reminded more of a traditional school bus than a commercial bus company. When you arrive at the bus station, dozens of people hoard around you, trying to out-negotiate each other assuming that you are headed to visit Victoria Falls in Livingstone. Yet, that doesn't seem like the right mission for this trip, with so many exciting organizations and projects awaiting us in South Africa, Mauritius, Madagascar and beyond…
Thank you for reading! If you enjoy our diary every day we invite you to get involved:
1. Comment on our daily posts — we check for comments everyday and want to have a regular ongoing discussion with you.
2. Receive regular updates–Join the weekly BorderJumpers newsletter by clicking here.
3. Help keep our research going—-If you know of any great projects or contacts in West Africa please connect us connect us by emailing, commenting or sending us a message on facebook.
Letting me read poetry is always a hazard. While looking for the Bertolt Brecht poem I posted in a thread, I came across a line in one of his poems about a stunted tree. It made me think. This is the result.
Can You Spare Some Change?
Hurrying through the city one day on errands
I came across a beggar seated on the sidewalk
with his back against the wall. His worn face
and thin frame pointed to a life ill-spent.
A well-dressed man stood over him.
In an angry, raised voice, he said,
“Get a job, you worthless bum.”
I looked from the speaker to the broken man
at his feet. Then, against all common sense,
I spoke up. “Excuse me, sir,” I said.
“Have you ever helped a poor mother
find good food for her hungry children?
Have you helped fund schools in poor neighborhoods?”
He turned his angry gaze and words on me.
“What does that have to do with me?
What are you, some kind of liberal do-gooder?”
“Well, sir,” I said in a pleasant voice,
“If you planted seeds in barren soil and the crops
In addition to hoes and shovels, more and more farmers in sub-Saharan Africa carry another agricultural “tool”: a cell phone.
Bugs. When I remember of Zambia, I think of bugs. 
Don't expect many places to have "take-away" cups for your coffee, and don't expect any meal your order at a restaurant to arrive in under a half-hour. But the culture of being relaxed, sitting down to enjoy a meal, and allowing the day to float by, is something I will deeply miss as we continue to travel. No one seems in a rush in Zambia and no one rushes you. 
We stayed at a fun hostel called 
We spent Saturday night as spectators, visiting a local club called Brown Frog and watching Zambians get down with some intense rumba and salsa dancing while we downed jack and cokes. Zambia has a real "joie du vivre" and I watched as people smiled and glowed as they danced. People were dressed to the nines, the woman sporting decadent dresses, and the men sporting their dress shirts. Some of the couples had clearly been practicing, as their moves seemed so fluid they'd been choreographed for the crowd.