Coming soon...

Thanks to all of you who have supported us. By supporting us, you join us. And by joining, you make us stronger. 

We are sorry for our lack of activity on the blog, but we assure you, there are great things in the making. Because we are still working out the details, I am being intentionally vague. Be certain, we are working on something larger than One Beat. That's all I will say for now. We'll let you all know what's up as soon as we can. 

peace. love. 

wesley. 

What happens when people go home??

Now that people from the Internally Displaced Persons (IDP) camps are going home, what happens when they get there?

For 22-years no one has been able to live a normal life. The roads are in disarray, electricy doesn't reach nearly as many villages as it should, homes no longer exist, water pumps are broken or no where to be found, where are the doctors and teachers?

With this change the current programs and aid workers are not the same as what is needed in the IDP camps.

Radio Netherlands Worldwide put out a great article today discussing these problems (click on the photo to check it out)





Peace.
---

Steph

The Ultimate Activist Playlist

One Beat is currently working on compiling the ULTIMATE Activist's Playlist -- cause I mean really, all that letter writing, life impacting work that we do sure does need a soundtrack!

But for now, I have been listing to this song all day. Lovin' it! (Or perhaps Loves It)





Peace.
--
Steph

So What Is One Beat Doing Right Now??

Well that is the question on everyone's minds now isn't it??

We'll One Beat's co-founders are reorganizing at the moment, and planning out what we want to do for the fall. We just got the lovely Kay back state side from what I am sure was an amazing trip. And Wesley just found out some great news about being given the opportunity to be a Roadie this fall with Invisible Children.

Myself, I will be, and still am here in Boston looking towards some of the things we hope to accomplish come this September. Some of the big ticket items on the list right now are:

--Premier of the new Invisible Children movie, "GO"
--Boston-wide letter writing campaign
--Principle members in the planning of GuluWalk

We hope to accomplish all this and more. Let us know what you think, or if you want to be added to our mailing list email onebeatmovement@gmail.com



Peace.


--
Steph

AdBusters Article

This was linked on the home page of Adbusters... a great follow up to the post Wesley made about Apathy.

http://www.adbusters.org/magazine/78/rage.html


Read it. Think about it.


---
peace.


Steph

Apathy

"We are storytellers. We are visionaries, humanitarians, artists, and entrepreneurs. We are individuals part of a generation eager for change and willing to pursue it."- Invisible Children

Be willing to make a difference. To move for something that matters. How often do we feel like we're part of something important? How frequently do you hear the complaints of friends that so-and-so is fake? Bored and with nothing to do we sit down and watch television--an activity less stimulating than sleeping. With nothing to do, you grab the remote and click over to SpongeBob.

Nothing to do. I am so sick of hearing people complain that they have nothing to do. We live in a whirlwind of ipods and computer chips, instant, meaningless entertainment at our fingertips every second of the day. Meanwhile, tens of thousands of people are dying every day in other regions of the world due to warfare. But we're too busy watching a fucking sponge to notice.

We live wrapped up in petty dramas, delighting in gossip but refusing to talk about critical issues. Our news stations care more about Britney Spears shaving her head than genocide in Africa. If Paris Hilton puts out a sex tape millions of web users have seen at least a portion of it within a couple days. But who gives a damn that in Northern Uganda thousands of little girls have been kidnapped from their families and forced to be sexual slaves to brutal men, to an entire rebel army. Raped and damaged to the point that they can no longer control their bowels.

Our nation was in an uproar because 3,000 people lost their lives during the 9/11 attacks. 10,000 people die EVERY DAY in Africa, but we do nothing. Wouldn't it be wonderful if ours could be a generation that cared. I challenge you to take some time to step outside of your American Dream and look at the world. Take the initiative to do something. Because that's the reality of the matter: we can do something. We have the amazing opportunity to actually influence our policy makers, yet we seldom take advantage of our right to do so.

Gandhi said we must be the change we want to see in the world. We have to want it. Desire peace, desire justice, desire an end to poverty, and demand a global effort to make the change you desire. I'm saving the world. I challenge you to join me.


--
Wesley.

The American Mourning

So recently due to unfortunate events within my family, I have taken notice of how it is we as Americans grieve to those close to us and those we care about. For the sake of society we send flowers, cards of condolences, make a donation to a charity in the name of the deceased.

To a friend who has lost of loved one, we offer our prayers, our support, and a shoulder to cry on. All of which give those in grieving great comfort and does indeed provide the support so desperately needed. As I have learned these past couple of days, it is necessary for one to cry and mourn, to be with family and those who can celebrate the life of those who have passed.

In contrast, when all life gives you is death, sickness, and misfortune you result in becoming numb. The pain can no longer be differentiated from daily life. A friend had sent this to me a while back, and I thought back to it a number of times the past couple days...



The tenacity of the Congolese both impressed and confused the hell out of me. In America we made mourning such a public affair, poured over the virtues of the dead, and placed great significance on dates remembering them. It wasn’t like that here. Despite everything that happened in those weeks, I’d yet to see mothers wail over their dead in public, or children cry at all for that matter. I’d certainly see it later, but here the trauma was so malignant it had ravaged everything soft inside and left them numb.

I remember the way the man from Drodro had described how gunboys kicked his six-month-old baby in the air and sliced her in half with a machete. How they rounded up the rest of his kids and butchered them in the yard. He’d watched it all from is window, yet when he told the story, you’d think he was recounting something he’d read in a newspaper.
“This happens all the time,” the woman in the yellow dress had told me during the gun battle.

Ravage was a disease perched constantly in the corner, and hunger was part of growing up. They endured because it was all they knew. In Congo, people just died, and over the next five years, the war would kill them at the rate of twelve hundred per day.



--
Peace.

Steph