injustice

A year ago today I wrote about the suicide of Sunil Kumar Verma. Sunil was born in Bhopal, India, in 1972. On Dec. 2nd and 3rd, 1984, the negligence of Union Carbide (now part of Dow Chemicals) killed Sunil's parents and five siblings, and left him with ongoing psychological problems. Those psychological problems dogged him for twenty two years, and a year ago today, Sunil hung himself. Meanwhile, those who were responsible for the death of his family have gotten off largely scott free. This one is for Sunil.

What negligence am I talking about? Well, some of our younger readers may not know about Bhopal, one of the most disgusting moments in American corporate colonialism. It was an event that killed some 20,000 people and left over 100,000 affected. And corporate America, responsible for this disaster, has done almost nothing to clean up the mess and take responsibility. Here is a description of what happened from the International Capaign for Justice in Bhopal:

On the night of Dec. 2nd and 3rd, 1984, a Union Carbide plant in Bhopal, India, began leaking 27 tons of the deadly gas methyl isocyanate. None of the six safety systems designed to contain such a leak were operational, allowing the gas to spread throughout the city of Bhopal.[1] Half a million people were exposed to the gas and 20,000 have died to date as a result of their exposure. More than 120,000 people still suffer from ailments caused by the accident and the subsequent pollution at the plant site. These ailments include blindness, extreme difficulty in breathing, and gynecological disorders. The site has never been properly cleaned up and it continues to poison the residents of Bhopal. In 1999, local groundwater and wellwater testing near the site of the accident revealed mercury at levels between 20,000 and 6 million times those expected. Cancer and brain-damage- and birth-defect-causing chemicals were found in the water; trichloroethene, a chemical that has been shown to impair fetal development, was found at levels 50 times higher than EPA safety limits.[2]Testing published in a 2002 report revealed poisons such as 1,3,5 trichlorobenzene, dichloromethane, chloroform, lead and mercury in the breast milk of nursing women.[3] In 2001, Michigan-based chemical corporation Dow Chemical purchased Union Carbide, thereby acquiring its assets and liabilities. However Dow Chemical has steadfastly refused to clean up the site, provide safe drinking water, compensate the victims, or disclose the composition of the gas leak, information that doctors could use to properly treat the victims.

Today, I read the following message from Shaquanda Cotton, a 14 year-old Black girl who was sentenced to seven years in a Texas juvenile correctional institution for pushing a door guard at her high school:

About Me

Shaquanda Cotton

Paris, Texas, US

I am a 14-year-old black freshman who shoved a hall monitor at Paris High School in a dispute over entering the building before the school day had officially begun and was sentenced to 7 years in prison. I have no prior arrest record, and the hall monitor--a 58-year-old teacher's aide--was not seriously injured.

I was tried in March 2006 in the town's juvenile court, convicted of "assault on a public servant" and sentenced by Lamar County Judge Chuck Superville to prison for up to 7 years, until I turn 21.

Just three months earlier, Judge Superville sentenced a 14-year-old white girl, convicted of arson for burning down her family's house, to probation. Squaquanda Cotton Blog

So, I called the Texas Courthouse at which Shaquanda was sentenced and I spoke to Judge Superville's receptionist.

I am posting, without comment, but with fingers trembling with rage, the diary that my friend, Weeping posted at My Left Wing.

I was just stopped by the cops while smoking a cigarette on my own stoop, as I do multiple times a day.
I know all the neighbors, who walks their dog, who parks across the street, who's attractive, who goes shopping: I see it all.

But this time, someone saw me.

Or thought they did.
As I was smoking a cigarette, talking on the phone, a police car pulled up across the street and stopped, dead in the middle of the street.

In the back of my mind, I thought somehow this would involve me, but immediately dismissed the thought as paranoia, looked around for some kind of trouble, and proceeded to watch the cop get out of the car and head right towards me.

"I have to go," I said abruptly to my friend, "The police are here."

"Do you live here?" The cop inquired.

I just stared right at him, incredulous (though not really, I know better) and indignant.

That's what it was, indignation.

"Yes." I said tersely, "What's happening?"

Someone called in that there was a "young black male" on my stoop who didn't live there, and did I have ID.

The next maybe seven minutes (the entire duration of the encounter) is more or less a blur.