Srey Channthy of Cambodian Space Project (Photo: Cambodian Space Project)
Srey Channthy grew up in one of the poorest provinces in Cambodia. She left home when she was 18 to try to make a better living in the Phnom Penh, Cambodia’s capital city. She went from working in the rice fields to becoming a singer of an international Khmer psychedelic rock band.
Channthy moved to Phnom Penh, Cambodia’s capital, so she could support her family back home in Prey Veng, a rural province in Northern Cambodia.
“When I come to Phnom Penh,” Channthy remembered, “I work clean for house. One month seven dollar fifty, one month.”
$7.50 a month wasn’t enough to make ends meet. So when her roommate told her she could make a lot more money as a massage therapist, she jumped at the opportunity. But when Channthy went to meet her prospective employer, she immediately realized she had been tricked. Two men locked her in a room, tied her to a bed with electrical wires, and told her she was now their sex worker.
“The man say, ‘You stay here. You never go out.’ I say, ‘What happen to me now?’”
When Renee Gunter moved to South Los Angeles with her 8-year-old daughter, she didn’t realize they were relocating to an area with one of the highest gun violence rates in L.A. But instead of packing up and moving out, Gunter decided to bring community back to her neighborhood. And she did that by starting a block party.
“I think two weeks after my daughter and I moved here, we heard what I thought, silly me, was fire crackers. And I thought, well this is weird; it’s not the Fourth of July.
And later we heard sirens an as it turned out it was gunshots and a young 16-year-old kid was killed.
In our first-person series “What’s Your Story?”, Californians talk about health in their lives and communities. One of the more unlikely yogis you’ll meet on the mat is 82-year-old Joseph Levine, who lives in a retirement community in Marin County. Reporter: Shuka Kalantari
“We have stereotypes, and whenever I would see a magazine or there would a little short about India on television. You would see these fellas, naked with ashes on their heads with legs around their head. And I always knew I couldn’t do that.
“Frankly when I began, I didn’t know whether I’d be able to do it. I looked around at these old ladies and I said, ‘By God I can’t put shame to my sex, I’ve got to make the effort!’ And I found it came on comparatively easily. Because it’s very gentle, very gentle.
Caheri Gutierrez, before she got shot in Oakland. (Photo Courtesy of Caheri Guitierrez)
As part of KQED Public Radio’s occasional first-person series “What’s Your Story,” we meet Caheri Gutierrez, a violence prevention educator for Youth Alive. She began working with at-risk youth after she was shot in the face as a teenager in Oakland.
Picture this: A man dressed in black stands behind a bar. He has yellowish-green skin and red rings around his eyes. And your mission is to kill him.
This is a video game, and the man is Iranian musician Shahin Najafi. The game was made in Iran shortly after a fatwa was put on him last May. Najafi says he knows of the game. In fact, he’s played it.
“It was pretty cool, I got to kill myself. But then I was alive again. So, I enjoyed that.” Najafi says.
He finds it sad that anyone would want him dead so badly they produced a video game about it.
“I feel pretty disappointed that someone sat down – an Iranian person sat down – and made that game. How much hate they have in their heart disappoints me and I do feel sorry for them,” he says.
Najafi has had a series of problems with Iranian authorities. He started his music career singing for various underground bands in Iran. But in 2005 he was arrested for performing concerts that officials claimed were ‘inciting unrest’ and ‘undermining leadership.’ So he fled the country and moved to Germany. There he produced the song that caused the fatwa — a rap about critical issues facing Iran.
Zoroastrians across the world gather six times a year to celebrate Gahambar, a religious festival to honor the fruits of the seasons. One of the world’s most ancient religions, Zoroastrianism used to have millions of followers. Today that number has shrunk to around 200,000 people, mostly in India and Iran. But, last month, believers gathered in the hills of San Jose at one of the state’s only Zoroastrian temples to pray, eat, and keep their faith alive in the West.
At the Dar-e-Mehr Zoroastrian temple in San Jose, California, an elderly Zoroastrian priest is dressed head-to-toe in a white suit and shoes. He stands in front of an altar of fresh fruits, dried nuts and flowers and slowly sings from the ancient religious text called Avesta.
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After the ceremony, a congregation of about a hundred Zoroastrians gathers for a huge feast of flat bread, various meats and asheh reshteh, a traditional herb and noodle stew.
Darab Bozorg Chami is a Zoroastrian-Iranian who lives near Sacramento. He says Gahambar is a time for people to share food and talk about their problems as a community.
“Those who have more money bring more food,” Chami said in Farsi. “Then we divide it evenly. So those families with less money can get help without feeling like they’re getting hand-outs.”
It’s part of the religion’s basic tenets: Good thoughts, good words and good deeds.
A statewide study finds Native American ceremonies can help prevent mental illness among tribal members. The report, funded by California’s Department of Mental Health, recommends using state funds to revive cultural practices.
Oakland’s Native American Health Center led focus groups in eleven cities to produce the mental health disparities report. It found the major barrier to services is a lack of culturally appropriate care. Co-author Janet King says Native people are very community orientated — so mental health services need to reflect that.
“What doesn’t work is having a mental health program that’s only clinical visits with a psychiatrist,” King says. “And not cultural interventions with peers, cultural interventions with elders, cultural interventions with traditional healers.”
The study says mental health dollars should be spent on practices like ‘coming of age’ ceremonies for young people. It says these create a sense of wellness and balance that can prevent drug abuse, suicide, and related mental health problems.
African-Americans in California are less likely than white people to get the mental health care they need. State public health officials have lacked a good road map on how to change those disparities, until now. A statewide study released today looks at ways to reduce disparities in mental health care for black Californians.
The report, commissioned by the California Department of Mental Health, sifted through more than a decade of literature on why African-Americans in California aren’t getting adequate mental health care. A major reason is poverty and all of the barriers to getting health care that come with it.
“It is unpleasant to admit, but some people do not receive appropriate services,” Woods said.
The Northern California city of Richmond is nearly 27 percent African American, and has many pockets of low-income neighborhoods. Anne Cevallos is a therapist at Rubicon, a nonprofit in Richmond that offers treatment and housing for people mental illnesses. She says her clients face multiple barriers to treatment.
“From a mental health perspective there could be triggers,” Cevallos said. “Not having enough to eat, domestic violence, neighborhood violence, never learning to cope.”
Another version of this story ran on KQED Radio. Listen here:
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