Economic Edge

I had a goal of going to Tacos Sinaloa earlier today to come full circle in my experience with the Intermediate Public Radio Reporting Class...unfortunately I got distracted by all the wonderful arts events happening on campus and missed my chance to head down to my favourite taco truck in Oakland. Oh how I enjoy taking the 14 and 1 route down to International and 22nd. 

Okay, let me back up and explain what tacos have to do with radio class...

After recording tape for my radio story, I would head over to this place with an overzealous stomach and my partner in crime, Carmen Elster; she helped me translate half of my tape, so the least I could do was buy her some tacos! This apartment building is on International Boulevard and this taco truck is one of many on the stretch of road. I would order a small horchata and a carnitas or al pastor (secretly I always wanted cabeza) burrito only to discover I should've ordered a large horchata because by the time I got my burrito I had finished my horchata and was chewing on the remaining ice cubes. Sad...maybe? Or a lesson learned--always order the large horchata! Nothing could instantly gratify my fresh catch of tape from the apartment community more than an extra cilantro, extra stuffed, grease-dripping-onto -a-paper-bag-burrito. There I said it. Burritos made me feel better about the interviewing process. This apartment community was so generous about their experiences in this dilapidated apartment building. None of the people living in that building deserved to live in those conditions, but the residents I was privileged enough to speak with were complacent and content (but mostly complacent) about their living situations. I was saddened by the experiences of these residents, and I began to have anxieties about how I would write a script that honours their bittersweet stories. 

The next five weeks following my first fishing (fishing for fresh tape) adventure were a little crazy. I felt inclined to keep coming back to that building and fishing for more tape until I became absolutely pregnant with "hot tape". The pressure was on and my water was about ready to break with fifty pages of logs. Somehow I sifted through all of it by choosing tape that captured the very essence of each story, but it was difficult. It felt like I was saying no to kit kats during bouts of chocolate cravings--there's only a modicum of logic to it and even then, the logic was buried. The more I said "no" to those kit kats, the more I paired down my script. I couldn't have delivered this story without my mid-wives: professor and mentor/sound engineer. All I can say is I felt strongly about having this baby from March onward. Logistically, I knew it was a big baby, but somehow it was delivered! 

Okay, enough pregnancy references.

*I'll report on future burrito if/when it happens in the next few days. This time it will be an extra cilantro, CABEZA BURRITO! 

Security barks HEY! as I push out the front gate during 4th period. I smile at him, wave. His face softens immediately. His bad. We wish each other a good rest of the day.

Inside Oakland High School - by Karen Gordon

Last week I visited Oakland High School for the first time.  I parked easily and was taking pictures of the murals along the retaining wall, when I discovered I was on the wrong side of the building.  A group of students who were sitting on the steps told me that I had to go around to the other side on MacArthur.  This was easier said than done since at this junction, MacArthur Blvd looks like a one-way street going the wrong way.  There is nothing clearly marked that shows the uninitiated how to get to there from here.  But I had to get there because I was audio-taping the freshman English class of my friend, Diana Arbas. 

Fruitvale BART bus terminal. The 14 bus pulls up, and it's the end of the line. The driver hops out for a quick break. He points to me. "You're in charge while I'm gone," he says. He motions to fellow passengers boarding the bus, paying fare. "You take care of all these people."

I laugh softly to myself as I watch him jog away. (Was he serious?) I get on board with the others and crack open a book. The other passengers wait in relative silence, swiping fingers across phone screens or arranging bags of groceries on the seat beside them.

A few minutes later, the driver comes back, ready to get us started on our westbound route. "How'd you do?" he asks me. "You take care of my bus?"

Up front, a sweet older lady with a wide-brim hat smiles real wide and nods, turns to give me a thumbs up. 

While on our field trip to discover Oakland, I was reminded of my own field trip just a few weeks ago.

As I sought information that correlated to my upcoming radio piece, I stumbled upon Oak Street. This is where I found the Oakland Museum of California. I walked through the main entrance and was greeted by a large women who demanded my attention. The vibrant statue pictured above led me in to one of the many exhibits the museum has to offer.

From natural science to art, this museum has collections of historical artifacts, photography, painting and so much more. There is something for everyone! Plus, as a bonus, you learn a lot about the state and people of California. This is not a museum where you walk through, retain some information, and then leave. Oakland Museum of California offers an array of programs for all community members to participate in.

One exciting event the museum has to offer is a Friday night art walk.   It offers dance classes, food trucks, art, AND half off admission for students. Though I haven't visited on a Friday yet, I can't wait to see what else this place has to offer. I encourage all Oakland residents to check out the local food and fun the museum has to offer every Friday night starting at 5.

As a student, I'm familiar with the phrase--"we could all use a little more time."   Deborah Green, the only art teacher at Roosevelt Middle School, replied "more time" when I asked what was the one thing she wish she had more of.  

Like with her art, Green is creative in her response to the lack of financial resources. She started teaching at Roosevelt in 2008 with no budget for art supplies. It was time and the world wide web that allowed her to find the resources to provide art supplies for her students (all 160 of them at the time). Through donorschoose.org, she raised $5000 to purchase necessities like paper towels, hand soap, paint, glue, paper, and paintbrushes. She says her will has kept her going in an underfunded one person department. She currently teaches 130 students a day. During my visit, the class was focusing on Impressionism. I got to look at a few Impressionist pantings done by students; the paintings were beautiful with many soft, pastel colors. I imagine Green telling the students enthusiastically to "fill your lines with dots!"--I feel happy knowing this classroom exists! 

I missed Green's last class, but I met the after school crowd. They calmly painted banners for the upcoming Valentine's Day dance--an abundance of cursive lettering and rainbows (a staple of every middle school dance decoration and a testament to the success of cursive penmanship taught in the 4th and 5th grade). I overheard the students' conversations and observed their laughter--these students felt safe to be themselves in Green's classroom (another reason why I loved art class so much). 

Homeless with an unwavering faith in God-- Priscilla Yuki Wilson

She was sitting on the corner of 8th and International, just a few businesses down from Cam Huong cafe, the place that our team was having lunch. She kindly asked me for some cash, but I had forgotten my wallet at home. Instead, I offered her a cigarette. She graciously received it. She told me her name was CeCe. She is 58, 100% Native American (Sioux) from South Dakota, and homeless. 

I sat comfortably next to her. People passed us by and CeCe would ask some for change.  Even though most of them either silently walked by or offered a genuine apology, CeCe smiled and thanked them and told them to have a nice day. 

She told me she had three children (all grown men) and became homeless after her mother died in 2008. I asked her why she hand't reached out to any of her children. She said she used to but hadn't in awhile because she didn't want to worry them. 

"I'm okay," she said. "God looks after me."

An older woman walked by and handed CeCe what looked to be some kind of Asian delicacy wrapped in banana leaves. CeCe excitedly began to peel the leaves off using one hand. She couldn't use her right hand because she said she had broken her wrist from an unfortunate fall down some stairs. I asked her if she had visited the nearby Native American Health Center.  She said, "I have, but I don't like how they wrap me all up."

CeCe said she hung around International Blvd. because the neighborhood was active with a lot of people aways passing through. She said people were nice in this neighborhood and she usually gets something to eat, which is enough for her. 

It's not always so bright in the day-- Priscilla Yuki Wilson

If you squint your eyes, you can see that there are two people on the corner of the street. It wasn't even 11 a.m and it was 50 degrees outside with a slight, chilly breeze blowing through. The young girl, who looked about 20 years old was wearing a skin tight black spaghetti-strap dress and the man was wearing a jacket and what looked to be blue pajama pants patterned with a design of fishes. 

This is the image of a pimp yelling at his prostitute for something that obviously had angered him. I walked by them several times pretending to be looking for a building. I overheard him saying to her in a really stern, intimidating voice, "what do you think you are doing? You know you won't be able to get away with that. If you go to LA, you know what's going to happen."

I couldn't help but cringe as the young girl had her head down, clearly scared.  Just a block down on either side of this girl were two other young girls.

Please Leave a message after the beep:

For the past three weeks, I have been trying desperately to make contact with someone at a local church in the San Antonio/ Eastlake area of Oakland. After calling multiple times a day, leaving multiple messages, and calling from different numbers, I decided to visit during their business hours to see if I could speak with someone in person about unearthing a story. We had received a tip about a group of senior citizens who belonged to the church that were tutoring kids at a local elementary school. It would make a great story, and it’s waiting to be told.

The church sits on the corner of 10th and International Blvd. adjacent to a bustling local Asian Deli/Market. It's a well kept building, with little to no graffiti. The front door is kept behind a large and black iron gate with a tiled entry way that’s probably crammed with church goers when it’s open.

I tried the gate, it was locked. I waited around on the steps for some time, and then left. 

International Boulevard is one of the most culturally vibrant streets I’ve ever explored. My radio class drove along International and disembarked near 5th street, where we clambered out of vans and explored the surrounding area until lunch time.

The culture on this street was evident. South Vietnam flags flew over the doorways of several businesses and restaurants offering Thai and Vietnam cuisine lined the sidewalks. I found this part of our trip most interesting because I had been down International before and had never truly noticed the change in culture until that moment.

Ingrid Seyer-Ocho pointed out Chai Thai Noodles and told us that we were missing out on the best Thai food in the East Bay if we had never eaten there before. Being a bit of a Thai food enthusiast myself, I made a mental note of that restaurant’s name and wondered about the other small businesses on this street.

I asked one of the cashiers at a Vietnamese marketplace, and she told me that business was fairly steady most of the time because they sold such a variety of food. When I took a look around, I could see that she was right; fruit, noodles, and fish were all arranged near each other as a testament to having variety in a general marketplace.

Then I walked to the Intertribal Friendship House up the street, which I learned is a community space for people of Native American heritage to preserve and celebrate their traditions after having been located to the Bay Area from reservations. Colorful murals covered the walls, illustrating the bright history of Native American people. I wish some residents had actually been spending time there so I could have talked to them, but maybe next time.

         Is it the way you dress, your hair color, your skin color? Is it the way you walk and look around? Are you comfortable? Are you scared? Have you been here before, or just visiting? Are you just passing through, or analyzing your surroundings? 

When our all-white vans reading “Mills College” were finally parked in front of the Goodwill on International Boulevard, the twenty or so Mills women hopped out and began to survey their surroundings. We had gone deep into the Fruitvale district where we could see taco trucks in their reserved parking spots and the Native American Health Center across the street. It was hard to feel like we didn’t stand out, being scholarly women enrolled in a private college, walking around with notebooks, cameras and wide  eyes. Being out in Oakland that day was like being on a tour, in a city with so much to see, but in an area we’ve been told to fear. Some of us live on campus, some of us live in that same neighborhood, but something separated us. Why was it necessary for us to get familiar with the city we all live in? 

When I traveled to Europe last year, it was the first time I had ever felt like a tourist. I was constantly going to different cities I had never been to. In just a few days I would try to capture the city’s essence, get what it was about, what the people were like, what the city had to offer. When I came back to the states I realized I had never toured my own city. I had lived inside it for so long that I aligned myself with it. I only knew my own experience. It wasn’t until I stepped outside that I learned how my city was perceived by others and consequently, how others perceived me. 

World Academy is a charter school located on 28th and Foothill. It's a part of a chain of schools started by the organization "Education for Change Public Schools" or EFCPS. 

According to EFCPS's website, "EFCPS was born through a strategic partnership between the State Administrator of the Oakland Unified School District and the Education Reform community. It was originally designed to become a charter management organization that would focus on converting existing OUSD Program Improvement schools to charter schools to provide the flexibilities and agilities of charter law to existing district public schools."

World Academy is a K-5 school and has only been around since 2005. My interest in the mental health and well-being of students in Oakland lead me to a bungalow building called Portable 1. 

I talked to Alicia Ramirez, the after school coordinator at World Academy. Ramirez works through the organization East Bay Agency for Children or EBAC, and she says she loves her job. She shared with me that the after school activities focuses a lot on artistic cultivation, whether it's through theatre play, music, or even culinary activity. 

Kim Ip and I rode the bus from Mills College to San Antonio.

 We entered a convenience store, near Roosevelt Middle School, taking in the walls of brightly colored Hostess Cupcakes and racks of chips and gum. There wasn’t anyone else in the store besides us and the cashier, and it made me wonder if the kids from the surrounding area came here to pick up “breakfast” before they went to school in the morning.

Roosevelt appeared to be empty until we stepped onto the blacktop. To our right, there was a group of kids playing basketball and shouting to each other. We exchanged introductions, and learned that the kids were all between 6th and 8th grade. One 7th grader, Alva, sat down to answer questions that we had while her friends continued to play ball.

She told us that her dad was in jail, but she was planning to drop out of school and move to Mexico with him when he got out. One of the two 8th graders--wearing a jean jacket, neon colored leggings, and high top basketball shoes—reluctantly told us she was going to Oakland High. Her friend said she was applying to Berkeley High because the only arts programs available at Roosevelt and other surrounding Oakland schools are through after school programs like EBAYC, and even then students have to apply to be involved in that program. She told me that there is an arts school nearby—Oakland School of the Arts—but that she didn’t think it was fair that if you were interested in acting and dancing, you were forced to go to a school that only offered those educational options.

As we walked away from the kids, it struck me that what they’re missing is a time during the day when they can de-stress, a time when they can let their creativity flow, and pour it into something that revives them enough to be excited about their academic courses as well.

As we approached Oakland High School, we noticed a very quiet campus. Teachers and other staff members were observing a professional development day, so we couldn't talk with anyone about community outreach. Leaving the school with low hopes, we noticed a school bus with a few students gathered outside. Mariana Lopez, one of the students, informed us that there was a field trip organized to tour the UC Davis campus which was sponsored by the East Bay Asian Youth Center (EBAYC).  Lopez also mentioned she is involved in a paid internship with the local Manzanita Elementary School through EBAYC's community partnership programs.

Shortly after the school bus left, we wandered over to the bus stop across the street to speak to resident, Dwayne. After we explained our mission to learn about the community involvement at Oakland High, he gave us insight to the many years he has lived here. Dwayne expressed concern for pedestrian safety near the school. The cross street of Alma and MacArthur is a block from the school, yet no signs or flashing lights caution fast drivers on the boulevard. Though he wasn't sure that Oakland High School students were to blame, he did mention that some of the surrounding houses in the area had been vandalized in the past.

On the corner of Park and MacArthur, we stumbled upon another resident named Roseali Wiseman. Roseali rides the bus everyday near Oakland High School and mentioned she used to attend summer school there as a teen. Over the past couple of years, she has noticed an increased number of students' loitering and smoking outside the campus during school hours. Roseali mentioned that if students loitered in her day, they would get sent to the truancy office where your parents were called and you were sent home. These days she sees a lack of school security and the need to keep kids in school.

Our final stop, the Arco Gas Station on Park Blvd., was where we got a chance to speak with the gas station owner. As we walked in, we recognized that this was one of the only convenience stores near the campus, and within a walking distance from the large school mural stating "beautiful struggle." The manager let us know that sales have declined significantly since the high school closed its' campus; students are not allowed to leave campus during the school day anymore.

It was 9:30 in the morning on a Monday when Moriah McKnight and I set out on to talk to business owners in the San Antonio district and surrounding area. I was told that the restaurant and Café called “La Estrellita” is a “go-to must”, so it was the first place we went.

 La Estrellita is located at 446 on E. 12 St. fairly close to Lake Merritt. A vertical sign displays the name “La Estrellita” from the outside, and there are tables, chairs and umbrellas available for outside seating when the weather is nice. Looking inside La Estrellita, there is a restaurant and dinning room area with a connected but separate bar attached, my kind of place! We walk inside and up to the counter, where we met the owner of the restaurant, Jose, who was working at the time. I ordered a Mexican Hot Chocolate, and it was delicious.

Moriah and I sit down at the bar stools, and Jose is nice enough to talk with us while I sipped my hot chocolate. Business is good, this is a family restaurant and he has been successful in reaching out to the surrounding community. He told us that he hands out flyers to the schools in the area, and if someone brings one of the flyers back, 15% of the check goes back to the schools.  Jose also mentioned that the he opened up his restaurant and bar on various nights to different community groups, bands, and entertainment. And it turned out that the Friday coming up was Spoken Word night! Jose told us to come back and check it out, so we did!

It was February 1st, the first night of Black History Month, and a small crowd gathered in the bar. Moriah and I had just finished eating dinner, I also had a delicious margarita (see pic below) when we saw what looked like a sign in list for the Spoken Word. We introduced ourselves to Mark and Jokwadi, two individuals who organize this event called “Poetry Diversify.”

Jokwadi and Mark were very inviting and welcoming, and I really enjoyed the poetry and music I got to listen to. I was in awe of the raw talent and poise of the all the performers (see pic below). Mark and Jokwadi, with the help of Jose and his restaurant and their supporters, produce an event that serves as a creative outlet for the surrounding community. This was both Moriah and I’s first experience attending a live Spoken Word performance, and it felt really awesome to be a part of it. The next Poetry Diversify event will take place the first Friday in March at La Estrellita, I look forward to coming back and possibly building up the courage to recite one of my own poems! And in the mean time, I most definitely will be stopping back by La Estrellita to take advantage of some awesome happy hour specials, cheers!

Walking up a gray street at ten in the morning my friend, Lulu Thrower and I, stopped to go into a restaurant-bar hybrid with the name La Estrellita. From the outside it looks small and quaint. Even when you step into to it you see a few tables and chairs, a counter, bright yellow sunflowers, and a smattering of paintings about Mexican culture.  The owner, Jose, says he works hard to create a place for people from all walks of life to feel comfortable in his restaurant. He told us he throws many fundraisers-mainly for schools in the area- is an advocate for making the streets in the neighborhood safer and more beautiful. He also welcomes in musicians and poets to comes share their art in the large bar off to the side of his restaurant.  Jose has created more than a restaurant; he created a community center, a place for anyone to go to hear music, have meetings, fundraise, to just feel comfortable, or most importantly to eat.

*The Tardis is a spaceship that the character the Doctor flies in, in the hit pop-culture television show “Doctor Who”. The Tardis is known for being small on the outside and incredibly huge on the inside.