LGB RPCV NewsLetter - February 2003

In This Issue
u Talking with Korea u Back from Ghana u Unfinished Business in Burkina Faso u An Ineligible Bachelor in Madagascar u 2002 Financial Report u D.C. Group Activities

February 2003


ur first issue of 2003 begins with a very timely piece by John Finn on his experiences with openness with Korean friends. q Rose Rosely, recently home from Ghana, describes the impact that country and Peace Corps had on her life. q Another volunteer back from Burkina Faso chronicles his parting with a lover and friend of the past two years. q Michael Foster writes about life in Madagascar. q Dan Rael reports some good financial news. q Chris Hrabe brings us up to date on what the D.C. group plans for Peace Corps Day.

Korea: The Time Has Come to Talk
- John Finn, RPCV Korea
It was a crisp and clear day in early March 1970, and our Peace Corps group (Korea 12) had been in country less than three weeks. I had just been assigned to a boys’ middle school in Pusan, the Republic of Korea’s second largest city, and on this day teachers and students and I were at a pier in this port city waving goodbye to South Korean troops embarking for South Vietnam. It was a strange scene for me – I was an American urging my new Korean students to demonstrate their support of their country’s soldiers who were off to fight in a war I opposed. But I didn’t reveal my political feelings that day. It wouldn’t be the only secret I would keep from my South Korean friends. It’s now been 33 years since I first encountered Korea, Korean, and Koreans, and much has changed on the Korean peninsula and in my personal life. A crisis once again brings Korea to the front pages of our world, and in my small universe, I’ve recently had reunions with and come out to several of my first crop of students. This is my cathartic attempt to weave these two themes together. My connection to Korea began with Peace Corps, but it didn’t end there. I extended my Peace Corps stint and then stayed on to do in-country training. In graduate school my (still-unfinished) thesis was on North Korean newspapers. I returned to Korea as an international exchange student. After I finally settled back home in California, I spent several years as an employee of the Korean Center in San Francisco. And when my lover and I moved to Oakland from San Francisco in 1990, we found that the neighborhood was for a meeting in San Francisco and spent three days together in April 2002. He was the first of my former students with whom I talked frankly about my life. At long last my self-imposed wall of silence had started to crumble. It was a relief. Lee Jung-ho had become chair of his department and a specialist in national security issues. We discussed the politics of the Korean peninsula, and our open and wide-ranging conversation made me reflect on how much had changed since we had first met. The story of another student represents for me much of what happened over those years. Back in that first year at my middle school, a group of eighth graders and I had a conversation about politics. I asked them about their president (Park Chung-hee) and their adherence to the strict anti-Communist stance they were being taught at school. One of the more articulate kids, Park Soohyun, spoke passionately about his progovernment feelings. Eight years later, this same young man – now a university student in Seoul – was arrested by the Korean CIA for having written the antigovernment lyrics to a popular protest song. When I heard of his confinement, I feared for his future because at the time South Korea had a repressive political atmosphere. But through the recent visit of another former student I learned that today
Continued on page 5

A crisis once again brings Korea to the front pages of our world, and in my small universe...

giving birth to a small Koreatown. Korea, it seemed, was never too far away. But in recent years I hadn’t been keeping current with Korea or my former students there. All that changed because of the Internet. One night last year I had a dream about a student from 1970, Lee Jung-ho. He and his wife had visited my lover and me in San Francisco in 1982 while they were on their way to New England where he was to become a graduate student in political science. I discovered an e-mail address for him at a university in Seoul, and I sent him a message. By coincidence Lee Jung-ho and his wife and two sons were in San Diego where he was on sabbatical. We arranged 1

LGB RPCV NewsLetter - February 2003

She's Finally Gone Over the Edge
Why would somebody quit a perfectly fabulous career working in the animation business in Los Angeles, making enough money to fly up to San Francisco every other weekend if she felt like it, to take a job where she earned about a hundred dollars a month? Or why give up a spacious rent controlled apartment at the foot of the Hollywood Hills, which all her friends couldn’t believe she got in the first place, for a two-room mud hut? Why sell her brand new car for half of what it was worth, give away or sell almost every possession she owned, and kiss a lover of thirteen onand-off again years goodbye promising to write? It sounds crazy ridiculous, downright stupid. If my grandmother were still living she would have asked, “Honey, are you okay?” In retrospect, it all makes sense. I have found that I love living life one adventure after another. At the time, though, I’ll admit it did seem a little absurd. Here I was about to turn 40 in a couple of years and all I had was 70 lbs. of material possessions that the airline would allow me to take along to Ghana, West Africa where I was to be an environment volunteer in the far north of the country. My qualifications for being an environmental candidate? Well, I’d had a few ornamental gardens at houses that I’d owned along the way and living in LA I could certainly vouch for the ugliness of a smoggy sky. This article is a result of my response to an inquiry on the LGB RPCV listserv from someone who is considering joining Peace Corps. He was asking our collective community of RPCVs what we thought about his leaving his stable job because in his words, “at my age it may be professional suicide.” True, but in this day and age, some of the things that seem most stable seem to crumble and fall at our feet. Like me, he’s older than the majority of volunteers who are in their twenties, he’s afraid of what’s going to happen to his life after the two years overseas, and he’s gay. He’s having the last minute jitters before sending in his application. When I responded to him, I’d simply hit reply and so everybody else on the listserv got my two cents too. Michael, the editor of this newsletter, saw it and asked me to elaborate. So, let’s go. Being a volunteer was the most amazing time of my life. I left Ghana thinking that if I died tomorrow, then it would be okay. Seriously, because I’d lived enough in the

- Rose Rosely, RPCV Ghana
successful. Now, that I’m forty-something I’m courting wanderlust and adventure and feeling like a rolling stone. Even so, in the beginning, being around all the volunteers who had just finished college was not what I was expecting. You’d think, from the marketing that Peace Corps does, that the volunteers are just one big happy Benetton ad. Or? Most of the volunteers are young, white and straight. Or? I’d left gay Hollywood, where the queens from South America that lived in my building use to meringue around the pool on Sundays in heels, and ended up in the middle of West Africa feeling alone and out of place with one foot back in the closet. Horrified that I’d just ruined my life, thrown away everything that I’d worked so hard to get, I wanted to go home before training was finished. It took some time to find my feet, but when I did there was no more falling down. The community of volunteers is like marrying into a big crazy family. You hate ‘em, you love ‘em but no matter what, you’re stuck with ‘em. So, figure it out. It’s actually one of the coolest things about Peace Corps. You end up getting to know people that you’d never give a second chance to in the States. I’d say that there are definitely some difficult diversity issues but most of them are complicated by how we ourselves deal with it. For me, once the shock wore off, I found myself relaxing and finding my place. I’ve made friends for life and am instantly connected to a myriad of interesting folks because of this experience. Now, that I’m back, I’m having to figure out what to immerse myself in next. It’s not a piece of cake. In fact all the possibilities make my head spin. My mom says that I’m like a cat, always landing with my feet on the ground. Ground please? And another returned friend’s words, “yeah, some of us dream about living but then there’s those of us that live like we’re in a dream.” I’m just accepting that the beginning and the ending of things are a bit of a struggle like the butterfly emerging from its cocoon just before taking flight. I’m a little stuck at the moment, but not for long. Rose Rosely returned home last November. You can contact her by emailrosalala2000@yahoo.com.

last three years to consider it a wonderful life. Nothing I have done has compared to my experience living in a rural community in a developing country. My brain and all my senses were summoned every morning when the roosters crowed and they were working until I fell asleep at the end of the day out under the stars. I actually looked forward to the sun coming up, knowing that it would get hot enough to brew tea on my front porch. Then there was the long ride to town 15km down a bush path on a bicycle, the soup made from baobab leaves that we ate from one bowl, the small market that

To feel full up, spilling over with the everyday of life, is something that we all chase but rarely have the opportunity to catch. I ran after it and grabbed and didn’t let go.
happened every three days where I could buy tomatoes and onions, and the women who came to the literacy class I started. Some days you’d reel because you were bombarded with too much reality: a kid convulsing from malarial fever, a thief being beaten under the mango tree or a crippled man dragging himself down the road. You learn to let go, to let the day unravel, to exhale, to be blown by the winds from the Saharan desert during harmattan, to just be. To feel full up, spilling over with the everyday of life, is something that we all chase but rarely have the opportunity to catch. I ran after it and grabbed and didn’t let go. Right before leaving Ghana, I wrote home to friends and family that it was a good thing that stories didn’t weigh anything or else I’d have to leave too much behind. My head and heart were overflowing with memories and feelings. In the three years living and working with another culture (the Ghanaian people who are the friendliest people on the planet) was a heart expanding, mind blowing, soul rejuvenating, self challenging experience that will always make me feel full up. It seems that I’m living life backwards. When I was twenty-something I bought my first house, planted a garden, dug into my career. It seemed that I was settled and 2

LGB RPCV NewsLetter - February 2003

Post-Partum Conversations with P____
- a Recent Volunteer in Burkina Faso
October 16, 2002 Today, for the first time since leaving Burkina, I talked to P_____. About two weeks ago, we said our teary good byes at Ouagadougou’s small, antiquated airport, and since then, I’ve spent much of my time in a black and white haze, imagining his ashy, charcoal skin against my soft, untested white. I miss his cracked hands. (Upon meeting him, one Peace Corps Volunteer said, “He’s got the roughest hands I’ve ever felt!” P____ is a construction worker. His specialty is cement mixing.) P____ snapped me out of my corny, sepiatoned reverie. “When can you send me an American car?” His first question. “I don’t even have a job yet, my friend, much less a car to get me to a job, even if I were to have one.” “Oh, okay. Well, when you have the time, send me a car.” This nonchalant request is no surprise, but it is a wake-up call. I realize that today, I officially become a long-distance sugar daddy and that our conversations will probably become numeric, filled with Western Union transfer codes and exchange rates. But then, money has always been a tangible third party in our relationship. When I met P____ I was penniless. I was at the end of a pay quarter, and he had a great gig as chief cement mixer on a prestigious construction site. For a few weeks, he bought my every meal, cigarette, and beer. Soon his gig ended, my new pay quarter started, and the tides turned. I became the provider, a post I occupy to this day. But P____ had proven himself to me in those first few weeks. When you are a westerner in the third world, your own hunger can quickly winnow friends from freeloaders. P____ is my friend. November 20, 2002 P____ blew my mind (again) today. “Guess what?” he answered when I called him. “What?” “I finished my literacy classes today. I can read and write now. Like a regular student.” I was speechless. A few days before I left Burkina, P____ asked me for ten dollars to enroll in a short series of nighttime literacy classes. I gave him the money, mostly expecting him to squander it on local millet beer and cigarettes within a day or two, but he hadn’t. One of my first interactions with P____ had been a lesson in the letters of the alphabet, and my favorite memory (sometimes) of my time in Burkina came just a few days later. We were walking down a city street one night, and he yelled out “Shell! Total! I can read those!” He was reading the signs of two adjacent gas stations. “I can read those!” I had given him that most basic of tools, the alphabet, and he quickly taught himself what to do with it. I can never help but relate that incident to our romantic relationship, though not in such a hopeful, inspiring way. For I also guided P____ through the basics of homosexual love. He had offered me a frightened, skittish kiss, and I had taken it from there. But as sharp and curious as P____’s intellect is, I know that he will never learn to read the signposts of West P____ forever. It’s Christmas, and for two days I have been trying to contact him. His cell phone is disconnected, and until he can call me (a major financial investment, and where would he get the cash?), I am disconnected, éloigné. So I call a friend of his in Burkina, asking the friend to track down P____ for me. The friend says he will do his best, and then the panic sets in. What if that was it - two months of postpartum communication and then kaput? Perhaps now is the time to begin considering my life without P____ in it. I don’t want to, but sometimes circumstances preempt choice. January 23, 2003 P____ has gotten his cell phone up and running again. In the past month, the following things have happened: 1) P____’s uncle has fallen deathly ill, and as the next eldest family male, P____ is assumed responsible for treatment costs (remember that he is a construction worker in the world’s fourth poorest country, and he’s a 24-year-old construction worker at that); 2) P____ has gone approximately $80 into debt to cover hospital fees; 3) the loan shark who lent P____ the money has had him imprisoned for overdue payment; and 4) P____ has borrowed from another usurer to repay debt number one and get out of jail. “Why didn’t you let me know?” I ask him.” I didn’t want you to think that I’m with you for the money.” “But I know you’re not with me for the money. Let me help you out of this mess, my friend.” “Okay.” P____ is my friend, but our understanding is one that neither society nor immigration laws will accommodate. “I’ll never forget you. You know that, right? “he asks. “I know.” “I thought you’d have forgotten me by now.” This is perhaps the most insulting thing P____ could have said at this moment, but also the saddest. “But I won’t ever forget you either, P____.” So where are we supposed to go now? Editor’s note: Because the author wants to protect P____’s identity (Burkina Faso is a small country), he has opted to write this article anonymously. You can contact him by email: bunnio@hotmail.com

Today came the reality that some small event, a broken cell phone, a change of number, a dead battery, something small, could and probably will separate me from P____ forever.
African homosexuality, quite simply because there aren’t any. During the two years we spent together, I faced a daily quandary: what would become of P____ after I left? Was I doing him a favor by broadening his sexual horizons or simply walking him down a dead end alleyway that only I would be fortunate enough to walk out of by leaving Burkina? These questions remain unanswered. When we’d finished our conversation, P____ and I said goodbye, and then we both lingered on the line in silence. Eventually, he chuckled , a low, melancholy laugh, and said, “I miss you. Where am I supposed to go now? Who can I be with?” “I don’t know,” I answered. I really don’t know. December 25, 2002 Today came the reality that some small event, a broken cell phone, a change of number, a dead battery, something small, could and probably will separate me from 3

LGB RPCV NewsLetter - February 2003

The Mysterious Fiancée Halfway across the World
- Michael Foster, RPCV Madagascar, 2001-02
As any PCV or RPCV will tell you, it is completely fascinating how much cultures and attitudes do in fact change once you finally get off the plane after travelling across the globe. The continuously difficult aspect for many people in these cultures to understand is that not everyone plans on having a traditional vady (spouse) and lots of zaza-kely (little kids). This was the looming question that awaited me as I arrived in Madagascar right after graduating from college where I had been open about my sexual orientation with my friends and family. On top of all this, I knew that I was going to be an English teacher in a decently sized town, and being a mpampiananatra vazaha (foreign teacher) in the town would automatically draw lots of attention to my personal life and me. Luckily enough I got a chance to talk about this issue with the Malagasy training staff and some of the other gay and lesbian volunteers, and this gave me some ideas on how to deal with the questions once I got to my site. When it finally came time to finding out where I would be living for the (supposed) next two years, I also found out that my predecessor had been the first PCV in that town and had married a girl from the town and brought her back to the USA! Now people were semi-expecting the next male PCV to carry on the tradition! Luckily for me, my site-mate was willing to help me figure out a story that she and I could tell the inquisitive townspeople when they came asking, “Ee Ramose! Aiza misy ny sipanao na ny vadynao?” (“Hey, teacher! Where is your girlfriend or your wife?”) I had a picture of me with one of my best female friends from high school, and this picture became the famous picture of me with my fiancée who was a PCV in another African country! Lots of people kept asking about my marital status during those first few months when the town initially gets accustomed to their new vahiny (visitor). When people would come to my house and ask why I wasn’t seeking out a sipa (girlfriend) in the town, I showed them the picture of “me and my fiancée” and said I was already taken. People soon accepted this story and gradually began to leave me alone about it except for the young adolescent males (my students) who always seemed to think that if I didn’t have lots of girlfriends that I would get sick. But even then the curiosity died down after a few more months. Personally, I never came out to any of the people in my town and was never approached about my sexual orientation during my time there. Furthermore, no problems concerning or resulting from one’s sexual orientation were ever made known to me. On the other hand, like in many third world countries, I feel it is best to be reserved at first concerning one’s sexual orientation until it is safe to disclose the information to trusted persons in the community. Another aspect of being gay in Madagascar was that many of the people, especially the men, told me that homosexuality didn’t exist in their country, and it was something that was invented by the vazaha (foreigner). The issue came up sometimes while I would exist was puzzling at times because the Malagasy tend to be a homosocial culture in which the men tend to spend more time with each other holding hands, caressing each other, and sitting in each other’s laps than they do with their girlfriends or wives. In addition, many of the men cross-dress by wearing women’s hats, blouses, and sandals because for many of them there is no real distinction between the respective “his” and “hers.” Some of my male students even got dressed in drag and put on make-up to imitate female students for a school parade! However, on some of my travels around the island, I did meet some homosexual men in the capital and the big tourist towns that worked in restaurants, bars, and hotels where it wasn’t frowned upon like in the smaller more rural towns like mine. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the opportunity to fabricate any more adventures in the long-distance relationship of me and my fiancée because we had to evacuate Madagascar in April 2002 due to the political and civil unrest stemming from the disputed presidential elections in December 2001. Overall, I had a wonderful experience that allowed me to travel throughout the island, work as a Boy Scout troop leader, create a radio program in English, start an English club, and teach classes all under the guise of an engaged man who was of course off the sena ny sipa (boyfriend market)!!! - Michael Foster is living in the Midwest and can be reached at mfoster78@yahoo.com

Another aspect of being gay in Madagascar was that many of the people, especially the men, told me that homosexuality didn’t exist in their country, and it was something that was invented by the vazaha (foreigner).
either be watching BBC News at a neighbor’s house or showing copies of Newsweek Magazine to friends and some news report or article dealing with the gay/ lesbian community would appear and spark the people’s curiosity. I tried explaining in simple terms to them that there are people who prefer to be with someone of the same sex, and the response was usually shock, surprise, or denial that such a thing existed. I usually left it alone at that except for the occasional person who would dare ask how two men or two women could have a baby upon seeing pictures of homosexual couples with children. I merely mentioned that they could either adopt them or use artificial insemination with the response usually being Tsy mety izany (That’s impossible) or Tena maha-gaga (That’s surprising). This belief that homosexuality didn’t 4

PO Box 14332 San Francisco CA 94114-4332 lgbrpcv@yahoo.com http://www.lgbrpcv.org

Editor Layout

Mike Learned Kevin H. Souza

The LGB RPCV Newsletter is published quarterly by the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual RPCV Organization, an affiliate of the National Peace Corps Association. We exist to promote Peace Corps ideals and acceptance of gays and lesbians throughout the world. Submission of articles or graphics to be published in the newsletter is encouraged. The right to use or edit materials remains with the editor. Copyright remains with the author. Send submissions or inquires to the above postal or e-mail address.

LGB RPCV NewsLetter - February 2003

Continued from page 1 Park Soo-hyun is a professor of economics back in South Korea after having received his doctorate in the U.S. His progression through the stages of his life mirrors much of what South Korea has seen in the last several decades. There was the extended period of rigorously imposed loyalty to the government. Despite occasional university student protests – in the past these were considered obligatory rites of passage – and some labor strife, conformity to government policy was required. While political freedoms were curtailed, national development defined South Korea for much of the past 30 years. The world has witnessed the accomplishments of the South Korean economy, and the nation’s devotion to education has been evident in the lives of many of my students who have become professors, doctors and government officials. But after years of rule by former generals, the political realm was slowly opened to greater participation, and political life has become vibrant. This shift has had an inevitable impact on the way South Koreans see themselves and view the relationship between their country and the United States. The continued presence of U.S. troops for many years had served as an expression of American and South Korean solidarity. Our countries’ soldiers fought together in the Korean War and the Vietnam War. (As an aside, my recollection is that Peace Corps was invited to South Korea in 1966 as a quid pro quo for Korean involvement in the Vietnam War.) Washington was a staunch supporter of each successive government – even during martial law years. Lately, though, the relationship has been fractured. As Peace Corps volunteers we are always uncomfortably aware of the fragile relationship between our host country and our home country – we try to reconcile the noble with the real. So it wasn’t any surprise that in conversations my former students emphasized that Koreans today yearned for greater respect from the United States. They stressed that the younger generation in South Korea – a generation I have never encountered – was more nationalistic in its thinking and independent in its relationships. An incident last year involving the deaths of two middle school girls became an extremely sensitive topic for South Koreans and an example of what has

changed. South Koreans were angry that the two U.S. soldiers involved in the traffic accident were not subject to the Korean justice system. Resentments that had gone unvoiced could be stifled no longer. And the more South Korea matured the more it looked for greater recognition from the United States. Washington, however, wasn’t ready to treat Seoul differently. All of this is apparent in the current crisis with North Korea. Regardless of what approach one feels is best to take regarding Pyongyang, South Korea’s views on the matter have been subordinated to Washington’s. At a time requiring candid dialogue based on mutual respect, we can

see Seoul chafing at still being regarded as the “junior” member of the partnership. Just as South Koreans are feeling it necessary to be straight in their political conversations with Americans, I have found it important for me to be gay in the depiction of my personal life to my former students. There will be more reunions as I plan a return to Korea soon, and it is a far healthier approach for me to be honest and open. I hope for the same in the relations between our two countries. John Finn is LGB RPCVs Membership Coordinator. You can reach him at johnnfinn@aol.com.

D.C. Group – Peace Corps Day Plans
- Chris Hrabe, RPCV Latvia
The D.C. group of LGB RPCV’s is planning to help SMYAL (Sexual Minority Youth Assistance League) in Washington D.C. celebrate Peace Corps Day with an international event (food, songs, dances, photos and information about opportunities in the Peace Corps and LGBT people around the world). SMYAL has been active for over 17 years. They serve LGBTIQ youth between the ages of 13 and 21. They have a youth center filled with activities, from support groups and counseling to creative arts and job opportunities. SMYAL has served over 1500 youth in the past three years. If you are interested in helping out and being part of the celebration, contact Chris Hrabe at LGBRPCV@aol.com. You can also reach Mike Giordano, SMYAL’s counseling manager (and RPCV Lithuania) at mike.giordono@smyal.org.

Financial Report / Membership Dues
- Dan Rael, Financial Coordinator
Although membership remained flat this Income: year, our financial situation has improved. We have been able to control expenses. They are Membership Dues $1492.50 down a bit for the newsletter because we have NPCA Individual Dues $2100.00 been able to secure volume discounting from Total: $3592.50 our printer. We are carrying over into the new year $1,000 budgeted for a Peace Corps Expenses: related HIV prevention/education contribuNewsletter, Recruting & Membership tion. Materials $2087.07 With this issue we are asking non-NPCA NPCA Affiliation Fee $218.00 members (belonging only to LGB RPCVs) NPCA Dues Rebates $500.00 and others to renew their $15 annual dues. If NPCA Conference $103.95 you are in this category, you will receive a Other (Website, PO box) $55.00 membership coupon and addressed envelope Total: $2964.02 with this newsletter. If you are an NPCA member with LGB RPCVs as your affiliate Balance (12/31/02) $5989.13 group, you will receive a request from the NPCA during your membership month. NPCA membership dues have increased to $50 this year. LGB RPCVs receive $15 of this amount. We encourage everyone to join the NPCA or renew NPCA membership. Dan Rael served in Paraguay and can be reached on daniel_rael@hotmail.com. 5

LGB RPCV NewsLetter - February 2003

Lesbian, Gay & Bisexual Returned Peace Corps Volunteers
Who are we?
We’re an organization of gay men, lesbians, bisexuals and others who are former Peace Corps volunteers, current volunteers, former and current staff members, and friends. Founded in Washington D.C. in 1991, we have several hundred members throughout the country and around the world who have served in the Peace Corps since its beginning in 1961. We are composed of a national steering committee, together with regional chapters. We currently have local chapters in San Francisco, Southern California and Washington D.C. We are an affiliate member of the National Peace Corps Association.

What’s our purpose?
We promote Peace Corps ideals and acceptance of lesbians, gays and bisexuals throughout the world.

What do we do?
u u u u u u u u Provide support to our national members and current volunteers. Facilitate the creation of regional chapters. Actively involve ourselves as an affiliate of the National Peace Corps Association (NPCA). Promote policies and projects that support Peace Corps ideals and the acceptance and active involvement of lesbians, gays and bisexuals within the Peace Corps. Take an active part in Gay Pride events around the country encouraging gays, lesbians and bisexuals to consider the Peace Corps experience. Offer our members as informational resources and mentors for lesbians, gays and bisexuals who have been offered a Peace Corps assignment. Host social events for our members. Communicate regularly with our members and others through a quarterly newsletter and our web site.
New Membership * Address Change Form
Name: Street: City: Phone: Country of Service: Peace Corps Job: Current Work: E-mail: Years: State: New Member Change of Address/Renewal I would talk with applicants about my experience. Zip:


Membership: $15 for LGB RPCV Affiliate Only or FREE to Current Volunteers $50 for LGB RPCV Plus the National Peace Corps Association

LGB RPCVs; PO Box 14332; San Francisco, CA 94114-4332 E-mail: lgbrpcv@yahoo.com * http://www.lgbrpcv.org

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