Starbucks turned me down, thereby dissolving my grandiose plan of spending my weekday 9-5 slots doling out frappuccinos and iced lattes to the Northern Virginia elite.
Unable to fulfill my retail aspirations, I struggled to find a job in the right field with adequate pay and relatively interesting work. The truth was I didn't want to spend a summer catering to the caffeine cravings of obsessive-compulsive joggers. But I also didn't want a D.C. internship where I'd be pushing paper and answering phones for slave wages.
That's when I decided to do something radical -- to follow my gut and pursue a summer devoid of extraneous paperwork and corporate serfdom.
I always have been passionately committed to human rights, but terminally frustrated by the daily barrage of headlines and news stories detailing the gross abuses of fundamental human rights throughout the world. This time, instead of flipping the page or turning the channel, I decided to take action and actually do something about my concerns. At the same time, however, I wanted to escape the perfunctory daily routines of American suburbia -- I wanted an adventure.
On a whim, I sent my resume to the Irish Section of Amnesty International.
A week later I received a reply and an invitation to live and work in Dublin for the summer as an intern for the Irish Section.
Despite the vehement protest of my parents, two weeks later I was on a plane.
It rained my first day. Actually it rained the day after that, and the two weeks after that. But despite the monsoon, the temporary loss of my luggage and a crippling case of jetlag, upon stepping off the plane, I knew that I was about to take part in an experience that would undoubtedly change me, hopefully for the better.
I found an apartment in Christchurch, a close walk from the legendary tourist district of Temple Bar. My first day of work, I wandered desperately through the crowded streets of Dublin for two hours searching for the Irish Section's headquarters.
I had no idea what to expect, and evenless of an idea how to navigate the narrow alleys and crooked lanes of this 1,200-year-old city.
At long last I found my way into the bright, cheerful Sean MacBride House, the headquarters of the Irish Section of Amnesty International.
On the ground floor sat the vibrant Freedom Cafe, selling fair trade products and serving breakfast and lunch to tourists and Dubliners alike. The three floors above the cafe housed the offices and conference rooms of Amnesty International.
I immediately was accepted into a welcoming team of committed international experts, academics and professionals whose provenance ranged from Northern Ireland to South Africa, and I was the only American.
I was one of two interns, the other a 26-year-old arms specialist from Toulouse.
I was assigned to the ambiguously titled "Development Section" where I worked on both campaign development and the Irish Section's priority countries and issues.
During my tenure, I worked on conflict diamonds, the Angolan civil war, corporate social responsibility, prisoners of conscience cases and the illicit trafficking of small arms in Africa. Instead of photocopying or answering phones, I attended press conferences, designed Web sites on which to present my research, wrote news briefs, created strategy in campaign meetings and coordinated action on prisoner of conscious cases.
After my first month, I started to focus on campaigning on the Irish section's priority country of Indonesia.
Despite having a relatively strong background in international affairs, all I knew about Indonesia was that there had been a human rights crisis in East Timor in 1999.
Like most people, I was under the impression that those issues had been resolved.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
For most University students, our biggest concern is fitting in, passing organic chemistry or surviving the hellish roommate.
For thousands of students in the Indonesian province of Papua, their primary concern is survival.
For nearly the last half century, Papuans have had their pursuit of independence met with police brutality, intimidation and arbitrary "disappearances" of activists and human rights defenders.
Since 1969, 100,000 Papuans, roughly 10 percent of the population, have been killed in the violence and civil turmoil -- many of the dead are students and innocent civilians.
Through my work and experiences with the Indonesia Campaign, I came to learn of the vast injustices that are committed against the people, in particular the students, of Papua.
While researching and campaigning on Indonesia, I interviewed John Rumbiak, coordinator of the Institute for Human Rights Study and Advocacy in Papua, met with many Irish journalists and Amnesty campaigners specializing on human rights abuses in Papua, participated in strategy meetings and devised the central concept for the advertising campaign.
Despite the fact that I was a good 7 years younger than any of the other campaigners in the Indonesia Strategy Group, my ideas eagerly were solicited and valued by all members.
I was given the additional tasks of compiling the Irish Section's review of human rights developments in Indonesia, and devising group action packs for the Irish membership to guide members in turning their concern into concrete action.
The 2001 Abepura Killings are one of the most poignant illustrations of the severity and danger of everyday life in Papua.
In the early hours of the morning Dec. 7, 2000, armed police officers raided student dormitories in Abepura, a city in the province of Papua. The officers broke into student rooms, beat students with assault rifles, stripped them, jailed many of them without food or rest for 36 hours, all while ordering them to confess to crimes of which they had no knowledge.
The officers assaulted, brutalized and arbitrarily detained nearly 100 students in retaliation for violent acts in which they took no part.
It is so easy to depersonalize things like this incident, to see them as merely statistics and news stories instead of real people. The fact is, many of the victims of violence in Papua are students just like us.
Two students in Abepura, Johny Karrunggu, age 18, and Orry Doronggi, age 17, both died as a direct result of torture.
None of the perpetrators of this senseless brutality has been brought to justice -- a clear testament to the crippling yet pervasive culture of impunity (no accountability for human rights violations) in Indonesia.
This summer experience was invaluable.
In addition to working directly in my chosen field, the position gave me an empowering and enlightening opportunity to become directly involved and have a concrete effect on a very serious human rights issue through campaigning, lobbying and educating.
My work with Amnesty International in Dublin wasn't just a "summer thing."
I've been back in Charlottesville for four weeks now, and have started working with the University's chapter of Amnesty International, as well as taking on a volunteer position as Amnesty USA's on-site coordinator for the Human Rights Education Service Corps.
Never underestimate the power of awareness.
It is deceptively easy to assume that simply because something is happening far away, you can't make a difference.
Trust me when I say you can.
---------------------------------------
You can join the University branch of Amnesty or contact me for more information at mdoherty@virginia.edu.
Read More
It’s okay not to be okay
By Mai Hukuoka | YesterdayWhether talking to a friend, a loved one or a professional, it is so necessary, and human, to need more than you can provide for yourself.
Taking a break at Tangerines Kitchen
By Charley Thomas | 3 days agoWhat the restaurant somewhat lacks in ambiance, it compensates for in tasty dishes and prompt service.
Virginia Policy Lab — a hub for student-led policy action
By Katherine Haden | December 9, 2024Students propose their own projects and collaborate with other members to research their issues of interest, brainstorm solutions and write policy proposals.
