The Two Freds

I just got back from a screening of HBO's screen adaptation of The Laramie Project, with a talkback with a member of the Tectonic Theater Project who participated in the collaborative creation of The Laramie Project and who is involved in current work with a ten-year follow-up

I need to try, for once, to be brief, because I want to post this now, but I also have lots of other places to be and things to do. So...things bouncing around in my head:

The beginning of the ordeal for Matthew Shephard began on my tenth birthday (exactly). This past October being the ten-year marker therefore coincided with my twentieth birthday. We cannot separate history and seemingly distant events from our lives. It's rarely as distant as it first seems. Lee(?) talked about this with us in the talkback, saying she's always blown away when people say they were five or eight, nine or ten when the "incident" (as it was referred to in the movie/script) occurred, that the events and the concerns wrapped up in The Laramie Project still have such draw for people, that it still profoundly affects people (which seems completely as it should be).

The audience discussed with Lee how theater in general, with a certain toolbox of methodologies, and The Laramie Project in particular, might change the dialogue, might change the culture, might "change history" (as in, redirect certain sets of events from moving in one direction and steer them in a more positive one -- which of course gets us into a tricky muddle of determinism I probably shouldn't discuss, other than to say that in my Theories of Knowledge & Reality course, we pretty much settled on it as a stalwart of a concept, near-to-impossible to contradict--because, after all, events only end up in one string--and therefore more than a little troublesome!). As far as changing the cultural capacity for intense, inexplicable, and (...) hatred in America, I definitely think that The Laramie Project has done a great deal to shape and structure the dialogue. I cannot believe I have not seen the production in some form up until now, but its themes and the material it covers were far from foreign for me. To increase the exposure of this film to wider audiences of conscience could, I hope, influence the directions the people of America take in eradicating that capacity for such boundless hatred. But I think of people I've met and people who are portrayed in the film, and I become doubtful, cynical, angry, outraged. The question is, can they be reached? Can another boy or girl becoming like one of the perpetrators be avoided? Can new ideas and a fuller conscience reach them?

More to come, in the form of edits and added material to this post, on Fred Phelps, Fred Williams (the speech given by Matthew Shephard's father; shooting; forgiveness--that other conversation; Omaha foster care; drive through Nebraska; themes; communication- community), and the future...

Keep reading: The Two Freds...

Field Guide to This Blog

Welcome. Feel free to explore, scroll, jump around however you wish. This post is just an organizing element for my own (and perhaps for others') sanity.

Blog Basics

On Blogging
Blog Jukebox

Neo-Tribalism For Newcomers

"We Are Not Humanity."
Vision is Humble
The Permaculture Ethics of Landscape and Culture
What "Ecovillage" Means in Senegal

Visionary Projects

Freedom Summer 2009, After All?

Proseminar: Home, Modernity, Haunting, Academia (Current Proseminar Project: The Full Meaning of Environmentalism and Environmental Politics)

Baobabs and Toubabs! (An Irreverent Introduction to Colonialism?)
Culture Shock
Local? Global? How Should We Live and Interact?
Environment as Home, as Whole
"We Don't Buy Adultery Offsets"
Postmodernism (question mark)
Home as Conflicted Space
Notes on the APSA Conference

Dialogue, Communication, Community

Mini Introduction to Wolof, as well as Orientation to Senegalese Politics
Who Are You?
Some Notes on Non-Exclusive Dialogue

Ecumenism/Theology/Spirituality

Theology For Our Time
Turning Twenty, Turning Pages

Keep reading: Field Guide to This Blog...

Freedom Summer 2009, After All?

I just received the greatest forwarded email ever. Maybe. Most of the text is copied from the web hub for the Summer of Solutions, but it also has a very vague blurb about manifestations of this ambitious summer project in my favorite city, Omaha. I'm not too enthused about the root of this wide-reaching grassroots effort in the global warming crusade, by the vague approach, and such, but I'm still very impressed that this has been brought to my attention since we murmured in Prosem not too long ago about how to rally together a Freedom Summer 2009, trying to think up the most important issue(s) to put our weight behind. I came up with lots of new twists on my crazy visionary projects after our discussions, and I certainly imagined cores of activity in all major cities across the nation. Might this Summer of Solutions be such a vehicle, such that we don't have to start from scratch?

I realize there is suddenly lots of activist organizational energy in the air, riding hot on the heels of that ubiquitous Obama-mania, but what the heck? Isn't the point to reach critical mass, to work with the greatest outcome for the least effort, and wouldn't this be one way to do so? Individual projects can always branch off from the global warming-obsession core of Grand Aspirations, the umbrella organization for the Summer of Solutions (I know I'm a lone wolf with this nonchalant perspective, and that's okay; It's not that I don't think things will start changing soon or dramatically -- I just have no problem with a cataclysmic brand-new Ice Age getting us to reconsider and restructure, reshape our priorities, our luxuries, and our lifestyles. La!), just like the wealth of energy poured into Common Ground Relief in New Orleans in '05-'06 and beyond generated many unique initiatives. I sometimes feel guilty I did not return to contribute more to Common Ground's project, but the most important thing my February 2006 winter break in New Orleans taught me was how pervasive the real issues wrapped up in the level of devastation of Hurricane Katrina were all across America (with similar or related problems existing almost everywhere in the world at this point, but you already know my opinion on the history of that tumorous globe-absorption!).

I especially like the first paragraph, with the way it frames its project in the holistic environmental-social justice way I'm always going off about (I have some quibbles with the second paragraph, but if it seems pressing enough, I'll bring it up again later). The vocabulary of "solutionaries" is certainly intriguing as well, though I'm not sure what I think of it. First impression of it is that it sounds kind of cheesy, childish, quixotic, but perhaps that kind of childish, unfettered energy and outlook is one of the attitudes we're most desperate for in our milieu?

Here's the text of the email (with necessary basic proofreading provided by yours truly):

"We need to take steps, however small to begin with, towards creating a local sustainable economy that enables us to work, eat, and take care of our families, bring the neighbor back into the 'hood, and slow down global warming." – Grace Lee Boggs

In the face of a failing economy, an energy crisis, fragmented and inequitable communities, and the growing threat of global warming, people are coming together to create and implement solutions that address all of these challenges together. These people are solutionaries - community leaders who work as innovative organizers across issue lines to build the green economy as an engine for local opportunity, climate and energy solutions, and social justice.

This summer, youth will gather in communities across the nation for a Summer of Solutions - a training ground for its participants and a launching pad for a new solution-based vision of community. With the support of local partnerships, forged from a national network of fellow solutionaries, participants will create self-sustaining projects that will have a direct impact on their communities and that will serve as models for others to build on.

In Omaha, we hope to create connections between diverse groups of people by hosting a completely open conference focused on how citizens can work together to help create self-sustaining communities. This conference will be run in the vein of "open space technology," a way of facilitating dialogue that encourages open and honest discussions on relevant community issues in Omaha by welcoming all attendees, ideas, and outcomes. This conference aims to shape not only the direction of the Omaha Summer of Solutions program but also include the future of climate action and community activism in Omaha. By working in the broader metropolitan community, we hope to promote a strong platform that creates a renewable and affordable energy economy in Omaha neighborhoods. This would include building a Sustainable Community Model in a neighborhood where we would work directly with citizens to demonstrate how local food systems and local economies can be set up and operated while developing a stronger sense of community.

Summer of Solutions: Omaha is a grassroots, volunteer-based, people-powered program, and we rely on people just like you for just about everything – from the project expertise, to the local partnerships, to the financial support for the young people dedicating their summer to build the solutions. We are hosted by a student-led group called Grand Aspirations, which is fiscally sponsored by Global Exchange.

Thoughts?

Keep reading: Freedom Summer 2009, After All?...

Baobabs and Toubabs! (An Irreverant Introduction to Colonialism?)

Yoff, Senegal.

This is only the beginning of what will (I hope!) be a much longer paper or project, perhaps integral to my thesis (no, not Honors Thesis; the Rock requires 8 credits of thesis work to graduate). I so like the sound of this particular rhyme (and usually rhyme just annoys the hell out of me!)!

Actually, I'm not sure where to start, but the idea is to trace the decline of animism (hence the baobabs) and the ascent of salvivic religions in certain places in recent centuries...Here I'm trying to distinguish between so-called "Taker" culture--very useful shorthand, but that has its problems--in the Fertile Crescent for millenia and in places like "the New World" and "l'Afrique" for only a handful of centuries. As such, the decline of traditional human societies, the tribal configurations, that is, and all the beneficial aspects and elements that go with them (this clearly includes animism) can be woven in with questions of colonialism (and here the toubabs, or white people, the people known here very acutely for their ugly history as colonists and enslavers and tormenters and rulers, etc., enter the picture) and its detrimental qualities, commodifying and transforming "the Other" with that capital "o."

That's the snapshot. To be continued...

But I must say, it`s been incredibly fun having people here ask me about my religious "persuasion" and be able to answer "animist" and have people not only understand what I'm talking about but have some idea how it is lived. Of course it's weird being one of those attempting to be part of "Taker-Hohokam," but I am perfectly willing to accept and affirm the integrity of my directionality in coming to animism--counter to most people in the world moving from traditional spiritualities into the salvivics, I'm going from Christianity and spiritual tumult to clarity and substance. La!

Keep reading: Baobabs and Toubabs! (An Irreverant Introduction to Colonialism?)...

Mini Introduction to Wolof, as well as Orientation to Senegalese Politics

Nanga def? - How are you?

Mangi fii rek. - I`m fine.

Many thanks to Living Routes/GENSEN, Maman, Mama Aiita, Pape Mamadou Samb, Marcel, Fatou C., Thier (pronounced "Chair"; yes, really), El Hadji, Pape Babacar Samb, and many others for their short and helpful lessons, their spontaneous laughter, and their patience with my halting and pathetic pronunciations, bad hearing, and bad memory! I have learned and lost so much, like grasping at water, and if I can remember even a small portion of what I`ve learned here, I will be immensely joyous. This is my attempt at such retention, and perhaps if this format gets me to help others with vocalization of these phrases, the constant repetition will help me to remember these tidbits forever. Finally, these might seem a strang assortment of phrases, but this is mostly due to the fact that when people ask me what I`d like to learn, what I`d like to be able to say, what I want to know, I draw a blank, and can`t think up a starting point. Thank goodness (or "Thanks be to God!"/"Alhamdoulilahi" - heh) that the lovely people mentioned above have worked with me and offered me gems of their lovely language anyway.

What`s your name? - No todou?

I miss you - Nama nala. (Pronounced almost as "Namba nala")

I miss you, too - Mala raw. (Pronounced almost as if in Portuguese - "Malarão")

I`m going to miss you - Di nala nama. (I just realized I`ve been saying this completely wrong as "Di namba nala" - woops!)

Me, too - Manta mit

I`m tired - Sona nàa (I couldn`t find the other accent mark on this French "clavier"; it's actually written "Sona náa")

You`re my friend. - Sama harit nga. (I REALLY like this one! Nga pronounced mostly as "Ga," with silent "n." Harit means friend, if I recall correctly.)

Dimbalema (johma casundaw) = Please (give me a cup of water)

Dieure djieuf = Thank You

You`re welcome. - Noko bok. (The "n" pronounced almost as if with a tilde - Ñoko; bok meaning "you are")

I need to sleep. - Deman bug nelaw. ("Aw" pronounced as "o")

What are your wives` names? - Sa djebar nomou todou?

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. - Ben. Nyar. Nyet. Nyent. Djouron. (I love how this sounds a bit like Russian!)

How is your morning? - Naka su bese?

How is your evening? - Naka ngonsi?

You are so clever. - Dgenga mous.

I`m tired? - Dema son.

You`re tired - Danga son!

Come eat. - Kai lek.

Come here right now. - Kai legui.

NOPIL! = HUSH!

Nyaw = Ugly

Baye = Father

Yaye = Mother

Jiguen = Female/Sister

Goor = Male/Brother

Rakh = Younger than me

Mak = Older than me

My name is not "toubab"! -Toudou-ma toubab.

Do not tell me/call me "toubab"! - Bourma wakh toubab!

That`s a good enough transition into an over-simplified political orientation:

Current President: Abdou Laye Wade

Current Prime Minister: Hadji Bou Soumaré

Current President of the Congress: Mamadou Seck

Current President of the Senate: Pape Diop

Old Prime Minister (who went on to be the President of the Congress, in which he was impeached): Macky Samb

Old Prime Minister (before Macky; corrupt, accused of embezzling and thrown out of office): Idrissa Seck

Head of the Family Ministry (accused of involvement in the "disappearance" -heh- of 76 mil. CFA; it was all over the paper on January 10th on our way back from Lac Rose!): Awa Ndiaye

Macky Samb left and set up his own party, "Yakar," which means "hopes."

Idrissa Seck also left and set up his own party, "Rewmi," "the State."

Thoughts?

Keep reading: Mini Introduction to Wolof, as well as Orientation to Senegalese Politics...

La Place de l`Indépendance

Today, we went into Dakar to see the central part of the city and to go to the market. The first market we went to was very makeshift and intimidating so we walked a few blocks to La Place de le Indépendance, where the Artisan`s Market was in its last day. This market was more spacious and with more beautiful souvenir/gift-type items, but even then, there were a lot of the overbearing sellers and other Senegalese persons (whose occupations are unclear) who hover over us, and won`t stop talking to us even when we most desperately want to be left alone (something they apparently cannot fathom). This was the hardest part.

We ate lunch on the next-to-top floor of the main tourist hotel, and most of us ate spaghetti (Alhamdoulilahi for American food!). For our eighth American woman (Katie and Artemis stayed home), we came upon an American straggler?, who just had a day`s layover in Dakar after a month visiting her fictive kin in Mali (Bamako). She was really a fascinating, incredibly kind, and joyful, exuberant person, and all of us were delighted she bothered to come up and talk to us and to then spend the day wandering with us.

The market was really overwhelming, as described above, and we didn`t stay too long after lunch. We saw the Chambre du Commerce that faces onto the little park, and from the top of the tourist hotel, we saw a beautiful panoramic overview of Dakar, noting our proximity to the port(s), one of which we left from on the ferry to go to Gorée only a week or so before. It was really nice to experience the heart of Dakar, with its paved streets and skyscrapers (How much I suddenly, for the first time in my recent life as a neo-tribalist "nut," miss cities!). When we got back to Yoff, we checked out the very American Shell station, with all its dazzling conveniences, and eventually worked our way to the beach, where we chattered and enjoyed the cold breeze and sand. Yay.

Keep reading: La Place de l`Indépendance...

Lac Rose!

January 10, 2009 - Yoff, Senegal - Casa Samb

Ten days have elapsed in this new year. A bright moon has shone. Many young acquaintances have found their way into my life. Myriad bacteria and ailments have I combated. Much couscous, pain chocolate, and fish (djen) have been consumed.

Today, I had lunch with Casey, Alison, and Amath at a little restaurant only a couple blocks from the Living & Learning Center. Alison and I had djebu yopp (rice with meat), while Casey consumed the popular Ananas soda because she was still recovering from her sickness on their three hour journey home. I spent the morning writing down some of the same old thoughts about my thesis, eating pain chocolate for breakfast, packing, primping? for the day, and staggering toward Salam`s house, where we finally met our rental car & driver and packed ourselves in. I had the chance to say goodbye to Maman, the young girl whose company I had enjoyed these last couple days, Aymirou, our homestay host, and then Seido, at his house, before we left town. I had chances to use "Merci beaucoup," "Di namba nala," and kind of "Sama harit nga" (though I don`t think Maman heard me).

I made the effort to ask to go to Lac Rose (since the sign said it was only 2 k(m) away, it seemed like such a waste to be there and not go!), even if I had to pay the difference, and what would you know, moody little Christian humored me! Apparently none of the guys had ever been there, either, so I felt both validated and joyed by my upstart request, since I was exposing them to something wondrous and intriguing for the first time, therefore I got to share something and not just experience it selfishly for myself, dragging them along to something that had already lost its appeal long before. All I had to say about Lac Rose was that it was really pink, kind of an orange-ish red. There were boats out far on the lake past the point where a camera zoom could make them out. There were reeds and banana trees all around, sea shells, or lake shells, making up the "beach." It wasn`t an imposingly large lake, as far as I could tell - definitely much tamer in grandeur than the Great Lakes - maybe more like the sort of thing you`d see in Minnesota or Massachusetts. But very pink, indeed. The guys and I goofed around a bit in its waters and in the general vicinity of Lac rose (documented quite well in photos), before taking off for Dakar - it`s nice to at least be on speaking/goofing terms again -- so lonely when they ignore me with little or no reason for such dense resentment!

The drive to Lac Rose seemed longer than 2 k, but I`m still glad we made the (3000 CFA) journey because it really was too close to pass up experiencing.

The drive back to Dakar was lengthy-ish (short compared to the journeys of all our classmates! - we returned the same time as the Mekhe/Mboul group), with packets of filthy polluted/smoggy air, lots of hawkers (selling phone cards, peanuts, lettuce!, bananas (? I can`t remember!), oranges, newspapers - 2 of which Christian bought!, etc.(, lots of time to take pictures, exchange emails with El Hadji (silent "i"), and get political information from him...Spent time catching up with Katie, Jess, Casey, Alison, and finally Artemis, Kazi, and Katie.

After Katie and Jess left, I went to write postcards, sort them out, when a little girl, all smiles, came in and started talking with me (in spite of my horrifying lack of French knowledge/awareness!). She wanted to play with my hair and look at the cards, which I let her do. When she figured out I spoke English, she ran to get her workbook, "My First Footsteps in English," which she guided me through - heh. Her name is something like Mamou--(?) Diallo, but she also goes by Bebe. She was born on October 22, 2008 in Yoff or Dakar so she`s half my age, and yet I spent a very pleasant hour with her in spite of our glaring linguistic incompatibilities.

She redid my ponytail (I thought she was going to braid it, having noticed that she`d used the word "tricature," knitting -- word I recall from Bouguereau titles!), danced around, took pictures with me, went through my bag, found my money, and grabbed a 1000 for pizza -- we then went next door, looked at the menu (but no amount of pizza was less than 2900!), at which point she started saying we should get glace, but I though it was some kind of drink and not worth it; she persisted and dragged me inside, where she grabbed ice cream from a freezer (and so I learned a new word very experientially!), and we got two chocolate-covered vanilla bars, with her exchanging words with the clerk when I failed to produce anything but English, and we went and ate them on the patio, then went back next door, stopping to talk to -- I presume -- her dad, who invited me to on "Saturday" with him to show me around twon (uhh...I was glad he had the day of the week confused, today being Saturday, and told him "maybe" just to get him to stop asking); we went back inside, she went and brought back stickers (one of which is now attached to this notebook), and then we went upstairs and had "translation lessons," her giving both of us "10/10" or "TB" (for Trés Bon) on our "work," before that relative came and told her it was time to leave...Oh, I also learned "On y`pas" (though I don`t know how to write it, with her dragging me around everywhere); "Let`s go!"..."Legui?"

Keep reading: Lac Rose!...

Culture Shock

Or "The Bloom and the Blight," the Joys and the Miseries...

From our handbook provided by Living Routes:

"One of the main reasons we visit other countries is to discover cultures and lifestyles that are very different from our own. We want to draw to your attention the fact that some of what we discover in any new setting is pleasant, beautiful, inspiring, rewarding, and/or deeply meaningful, but that other aspects inevitably are frustrating, less pleasant, not at all beautiful, tedious, and otherwise stressful. We propose to you that it is not possible to deepen our insights into human society and its relationship to its environment without looking at both the bloom and the blight."

Here are some other paragraphs from the handbook section on Culture Shock, out of order:

"While the introduction to new and foreign cultures greatly benefits students, it can also be overwhelming. Cultural differences can be so great that a student may need extra time to adjust. This is normal. The new cultural elements a student encounters may be so different that they seem 'shocking' in comparison to cultural norms one is used to at home. A student's reaction of feeling 'shocked' by a culture's attributes can manifest itself in mood swings ranging from anger, to depression, to panic. It can be difficult to explain culture shock, especially if you have never been through it. As Bruce La Brack wrote in his article, 'The Missing Linkage: The Process of Integrating Orientation and Re-entry,' 'Just as you can`t really describe the taste of a hot fudge sundae to someone who has never experienced one, it is difficult to actually convey just how disorienting entering another culture can be to a student without any cross-cultural experience.'

"Experiencing new cultures and obtaining a better understanding of our own culture can result in some of the most positive life-altering experiences students have while studying abroad. When going abroad, students will experience differences in manners, beliefs, customs, laws, language, art, religion, values, concept of self, family organization, social organization, government, behavior, etc. All of these elements combine to form culture.

"We want to encourage you to accept in coming to Senegal that your learning experience will combine insights that are easy and joyous and others that are highly problematic, such as the problems surrounding the lives of beggar children, and the difficult struggles of certain neighborhoods with a crisis in garbage collection."Prepare yourself for some down times; they happen to practically everyone trying to make it in a culture they have never lived in before. Realizing that what you are feeling is natural, and that other students are probably experiencing the same thing, will help you to avoid discouragement. Culture shock has its ups and downs, good days and bad--but you will pull through. Many students studying abroad experience times when they feel depressed. However, the overwhelming majority comes away from their experience abroad even stronger and better adapted for living and working with others."

...

From my journal...

Senegal – January 6, 2009.

I miss home, all kinds of things. Soft drinks, toilets, sinks, dentists, showers, hand sanitizer, health, cold!—didn’t think I’d miss that!—all kinds of “American” food, my computer, my nail clippers, my sweaters…no mosquitoes, no flies, trash collection, fresh air without all the wafting smells, drinkable tap water, my room, people who understand me when I speak, secularity, Omaha…Outside of the U.S., IPEC and my childhood dacha, tricycle, the walk, the smells…Dedushka, Dodge Street, Gene Leahy Mall in October (my birthday in 2006 I recall fondly), Soul Desires, Omaha in spring and summer (minus the tornadoes and floods), Eugene, Boston...

I feel very much placeless, untethered, and somehow this vapid lacking just doesn’t help displace my habitual negativity, stubbornness, unkindness. I get so frustrated, so boxed in my focus that I can’t find calm, placidity, acceptance, positive outlook, kind words, cheerful thoughts. Why am I so high-strung? Gah!

I’ve never felt so homesick before – Well, I guess I’m still not used to thinking in terms of homesick. That June evening in 2006 when the distance between me and Bellevue settled heavily on my shoulders, that was homesick. I remember that. This past semester, time away from the person who I’d lived with for two years, that kind of fatalism that nothing could be okay because it had shifted…it was all so unnecessary. It’s okay. I’m going to be okay.

Today we met with the group leaders in Thiaroye again, this time with less tension – but then, I was also much more detached from the whole thing. The group leaders discussed amongst themselves which projects would benefit most (and would most benefit the whole ecovillage) from a SEM microcredit loan. I was most taken back/surprised/shocked with a little man, Massamba, insisting that the women’s projects be funded first because women work harder—get up earlier to work, are more organized, will pay back the loan on time, etc.—it’s not that I didn’t realize SEM’s loans were more heavily weighted to women’s projects or that a general theme we’ve learned these many days in Senegal wasn’t that women are more dedicated and strong-willed workers then men—I just somehow didn’t see it coming that this man would open his mouth to advocate fro the women’s project. His projects, the chickens and the fishing, we were told, had been overlooked for this cycle of loans for different reasons—his chicken project with Doudou because, although their operation employs/involves 15 workers, it only really profits and benefits 2, and in this way, it is not the choiciest project for this cycle; the fishing because the new engine the men require for modernizing their “canoe”/boat cost 1 mil. CFA and the maximum amount that SEM grants for its loans is 700,000 CFA. The thing is, this purchase over the limit of the SEM base funding would have also benefited the women’s fish-curing operation, which group was struggling most with keeping transportation costs down, and so was looking at buying directly from fishermen, instead of paying the gasoline-adjusted prices.

After choosing the women’s cooperative for the first loan, the ecovillage leaders continued to discuss which project should benefit from the second of the two microcredit loans. Several were vocal about the disable persons’ cooperative because the education and employment of handicapped persons is an important and positive recent development. However, because Massamba continued to argue that men overall were less productive and effective (I’m not sure to what degree he took into account any sensitive rationale about the inherent reduced productivity of disabled persons!), the villagers, when eventually round up by Pape (our homestay “contact”) for a private counsel, came back and announced that they had agreed upon the two women’s activities and groups for the first set of loan recipients. Whey they went out, they stepped out on the pretense that Mamadou had prior working knowledge of these processes and selections to convey to the leaders…Not long after everyone returned, we shook hands with many of the men who then departed. We were left with the women, with the responsibility of getting down the information about their activities into draft loan application form…which we did, El Hadj and I in a kind of haphazard, disorderly detailed overview “order” and Adama and Jisselle in step-by-step fashion. I felt very good after we got all the information (we still need to get a photo with all the women involved) because the loan application helps a women’s cooperative with 3 women involved in gardening by that little lagoon we’ve become acquainted with in “Baghdad” (it’s such a soul-lifting cheery happy green place!), one women further her life-long fish trading business and another her cloth dying business (though it’s regrettable she has to use toxic dyes – I joked with El Hadj about starting a business here to sell natural dyes, or to do the fish trading or to join Aissa in her gardening work). Then we walked back, rested, ate lunch, and then Jisselle left to go back to Yoff. Then a sudden heaviness, emptiness, trapped-ness, overwhelming homesickness set in. I’m feeling a little better writing, especially because when I write I get to enjoy the cooler air out her in the corridor/courtyard, watch the cat go about its cat day, enjoy the children’s laughter/silliness/smiley-ness/playfulness/and bounciness, and watch the daughter? who seems about my age clean the courtyard, brushing of ff the sand and dust with a broom (2 different kinds, a long and a short kind). I do so enjoy watching people and other animals (cf. class notes w/ Ousmane pronouncing, “I refuse to be…an animal!”) going about the motions of everyday, quotidian, placid, unassuming, basic, restful, repetitive, meaningful in its simplicity as it is. The noises – t.v., mosque? Sending out call to prayer via loudspeaker, trucks, kids’ feet, kids’ happy high-pitched voices, the whisking of the broom, etc…are pleasurable, likewise. Horse’s hooves just now, as well, the rustling of leaves on this courtyard tree. It’s a nice day. I’m so happy to have this time to enjoy the good weather, the good views, the good people, the good life, the good tastes, the good words of this place. There’s a lot I don’t like on the other hand, but I’m glad to be here, but even though I’m almost halfway through my stay, I still really can’t wait to be home (in spite of the stressful course-finishing/course-beginning apparently). I miss New England, the Rock, America, in ways I just haven’t and hadn’t missed them before.


January 9, 2009. Sangalkam.

What do I like about being here in Senegal?

I appreciate the women carrying their children wrapped up on their backs; I appreciate the shared platters at meals – djebu djen (fish) and djebu yoff (meat); the children’s gentleness; the proliferation of polyglots; the prayerfulness; the colorful fabrics; the seas; the sun and the gardens very much out in splendor; the tropicalness; the mango/orange/mixed fruit/tamarind juice and the soft drinks, too; the tastiness of the meals; the pain chocolate for breakfast; the Nescafé at class coffee breaks and the Senecao at breakfast; the modernness of the Samb house; Marian`s rooftop view; doing my laundry in early evening on the Samb's rooftop; the singing and the music, the strength of solidarity all around but most inspiring somehow in the tontines and women's cooperatives; Seido Touré and his scouting skills, permaculture awareness, leadership and technologically savvy (he`s one of the most inspiring people I`ve met here); the cool soft sand everywhere; the prolific livestock (chickens, goats, cows, horses, donkeys – and today I saw my first ducks!); the historic Ile d'Gorée and the heavy knowledge and the vast sadness it arouses – how it completely changes my perception of the "sea"/Atlantic Ocean; the large families – the connectedness – the physicality—the friendship – the un-brokenness; the courtyard houses with their may rooms; getting chances to read, recite, and kind of practice, at least avoid losing by remembering even fragments of my Arabic; learning bits of French and Wolof; having the time and occasion to write, think about, and interrogate/question the premises of different approaches to sustainable living, sustainable (international) development, human health and happiness, education/feminism/sanitation/modernization/globalization; the French-influenced cityscapes; the overall gentle attitude; the malas everywhere (before it seemed that people didn't actually use them); the crafts; the markets; the different brooms; the beautiful faces; the dizzying hubbub; the fishing boats; the wrestling training/culture of wrestling adulation and watching; the un-strict and flexible, loose schedules; slower lifestyle and timing/sense of time; the time to rest and nap; taking my first "bucket splash" shower (also, in regards to water usage, the squat toilets or latrines turning out not quite so horrendous as they first seemed); the Euro-like design of the currency (with the added beautiful decorative flourish of the harp-like mask); time to read; the sublimation of computer usage (though it's hard when I have a blog to write); the colorful blossoms on the trees; the tailors; the taps (? ... I think I meant the fountain-like space with the faucet and the drain); the clothes lines; the communal spirit... But then what the culture shock consist of? See, that`s the thing, much of these things that I can perceive as beautiful, enjoyable, pleasant, and in an otherwise pleasant way can also be view in negative light, as the uglier side of life and travel here in Senegal...

I`m homesick, uncomfortable here, and missing the ease and routine and sanitation aesthetic of living in the states, at hope; I feel disrespected, I feel that boundaries have gone un-honored, exasperated that the boys have not bothered to listen or to find out, to understand what I'm used to and comfortable with and how Senegalese customs and attitudes (or just that of the boys, perhaps!) fall far, far away, on a different part of a spectrum or maybe on a different side of a completely different spectrum, far far away from what I'm accustomed to. Of course this is culture shock, and apparently I'm not taking it so well, apparently not ingesting or imbibing it quite the way Henri Nouwen would suggest or wish for conscientious travelers. Apparently I'm failing to get past the culture shock and even to take it in positively if all the relationships around me have splintered in ways so elegantly complex that I can only improve upon bad habits, negativity, volatility, impoliteness, rudeness, anger, and cannot further my spiritual or personal development as a decent human being, taking in the inconsistency and nuance, uneven-ness, idiosyncracy of others, seeing myself in another, finding my own weaknesses by recognition, accepting inconsistency, repetition, and humbling processes that remind me it`s okay to learn the same thing twice (I don`t always have to make a point of asserting my prior knowledge, authority on a subject, potentially superior thinking--in most situations? see, I`m still very much holding on to the vanity and pride!--but I do...I don`t make enough of an effort to let go--to let go of pride, resentment, annoyance/nuisances/getting riled up/having my feathers ruffled, let go of power and control, claims to knowledge--though I strive for such conclusions time and again!, let go of presumption and judgment, let go of anger and irk-dom, let go of pretension and self-importance, let myself be deflated, debased, dethroned?--uh, from what?, torn apart, find in humbleness my self, selflessly unselfish, caring for others in the minutest and most particular of ways, find in humbleness my self-honor and my self, my selfhood and my self-appreciation--without letting these things take over my humility and awareness! Right now, my life stretches out before me in "either" direction, past and future (quotations--I taught the boys about so-called "air quotes" the other day--because perhaps someone can explain it to me in different terms, in terms of a different directionality or non-linearity!), a big empty void, developing the sense of being unloved and unvalued by my assigned family, seeing out love and appreciation in surrogate families, romantic lovers, friends, many of which only disappoint because in the end, constructing reliance and dependence on an individual or even a small handful of individuals does not solve much bigger problems of societal (though this refers to a very particular society -- no preclusions about humanity or human nature allowed!) brokenness and disconnection (see, who needs psychoanalysts--harking back to Nouwen--when you can see into the relational dynamics of your own life and see how well-being derailed long before that lifetime came to be, derailed centuries--nay, millenia!--ago?!). It hasn't been what I expected, I guess, though I can't quite put what I expected...I guess this is me seeing what happens when you don't really have any expectation...or the one you had is too far from possible to see fulfilled anyway that it amounts to having none...The bulk of my time here, at least in this one third of my experience and travel and time here, this second week, has been miserable, and that I did not expect. I guess I've been clashing hard against old-fashioned masculinity and a sense of irrelevance, but who says I can't learn something of humbleness at least from the latter and maybe even learn what expending pointless energy for hopeless cases means in terms of the former. I've just gone up in smoke, a big firework exploding with bits of confetti shrapnel flying every which way, a bright big ball of flame, flash, and failure, fizzing unimportance, unsubstantial. My feelings of loneliness, unimportance, invisibility, hopelessness, and exasperation at living in "a broken world," my out-of-placed-ness in Academia and otherwise presumptive and prideful circles, with feelings of incompetence, inarticulateness, inadequacy, not fitting in, feeling perpetually misunderstood, as though I`ll never find a parallel soul, someone to see things with me on my level, to commiserate, to share, to be a companion, a friend (spiritual or otherwise meaningful friendship), someone to remind me that I`m not alone, not an alien/Martian/extraterrestrial...these feelings might never go away, might only become more pressing, more opaque, more individualized and esoteric, more isolating, more of my unique Atlas-sized burden, more of something to (? dropped thought, apparently)...more of my own personal weighty companion through life--if I can`t find a mental match, I s`pose I`ll have to do with myself, my solitude, my maddening/oppressive emotional luggage. And in order for these elements of myself not to devour me, to create an ever-widening spiritual vacuity/vacuum, a burgeoning emptiness, a suffocating placelessness/homelessness (that is somehow also a homesickness), a partially inexplicable malaise, a heavy loneliness, that lingers...I have to find some way to get past it, to get over these obstacles and myself, to let go, to detach, to humble myself, to find solace without any grounding, any precedent, any emotional "primer," to find myself, my selflessness, my goodness/"my better self," my happiness, fulfillment, forgiveness, okay-ness, peace/solace/reassurance/stability/acceptance/acceptability/grounding...But HOW? Is there any way to insure I find these elements of utmost important and QUICKLY?

...

From Henri Nouwen`s Gracias!: A Latin American Journal, the entry dated October 30, 1981:

"Today Gerry McCrane, the director of the language school, gave a presentation to the newcomers. In his gentle and pastoral way he offered us an opportunity to share our struggles in adapting ourselves to a new culture. One theme that came up was the re-emergence of long-forgotten conflicts. In displacing ourselves into a new and unfamiliar milieu, old, unresolved conflicts often start asking for our attention. When our traditional defense systems no longer are available and we are not able to control our own world, we often find ourselves experiencing again the feelings of childhood. The inability to express ourselves in words as well as the realization that everyone around us seems to understand life much better than we do, puts us in a situation quite similar to that of a child who has to struggle through a world of adults. This return to childhood emotions and behavior could be a real opportunity for mental and spiritual growth. Most of the psychotherapies I have been exposed to were attempts to help me relive those times when immature ways of coping with stress found their origin. Once I could re-encounter the experience that led me to choose a primitive coping device, I was also able to choose a more mature response. Thus I could let go of behavior that was the source of my suffering. A good psychotherapist is a person who creates the environment in which such mature behavioral choices can be made. Going to a different culture, in which I find myself again like a child, can become a true psychotherapeutic opportunity. Not everyone is in the position or has the support to use such an opportunity. I have seen much self-righteous, condescending, and even offensive behavior by foreigners towards the people in their host country. Remarks about the laziness, stupidity, and disorganization of Peruvians or Bolivians usually says a lot more about the one who makes such remarks than about Peruvians or Bolivians. Most of the labels by which we pigeonhole people are ways to cope with our own anxiety and insecurity. Many people who suddenly find themselves in a totally unfamiliar milieu decide quickly to label that which is strange to them instead of confronting their own fears and vulnerabilities.But we can also use the new opportunity for our own healing. When we walk around in a strange milieu, speaking the language haltingly, and feeling out of control and like fools, we can come in touch with a part of ourselves that usually remains hidden behind the thick walls of our defenses. We can come to experience our basic vulnerability, our need for others, our deep-seated feelings of ignorance and inadequacy, and our fundamental dependency. Instead of running away from these scary feelings, we can live through them together and learn that our true value as human beings has its seat far beyond our competence and accomplishments. One of the most rewarding aspects of living in a strange land is the experience of being loved not for what we can do, but for who we are. When we become aware that our stuttering, failing, vulnerable selves are loved even when we hardly progress, we can let go of our compulsion to prove ourselves and be free to live with others in a fellowship of the weak. That is true healing.This psychological perspective on culture shock can open up for us a new understanding of God`s grace and our vocation to live graceful lives. In the presence of God, we are totally naked, broken, sinful, and dependent, and we realize that we can do nothing, absolutely nothing, without him. When we are willing to confess our true condition, God will embrace us with his love, a love so deep, intimate, and strong that it enables us to make all things new. I am convinced that, for Christians, culture shock can be an opportunity not only for psychological healing but also for conversion. What moves me most in reflecting on these opportunities is that they lead us to the heart of ministry and mission. The more I think about the meaning of living and acting in the name of Christ, the more I realize that what I have to offer to others is not my intelligence, skill, power, influence, or connections, but my own human brokenness, but my own human brokenness through which the love of God can manifest itself. The celebrant in Leonard Bernstein`s Mass says: "Glass shines brighter when its broken...I never noticed that." This, to me, is what ministry and mission are all about. Ministry is entering with our human brokenness into communion with others and speaking a word of hope. This hope is not based on any power to solve the problems of those with whom we live, but on the love of God, which becomes visible when we let go of our fears of being out of control and enter into his presence in a shared confession of weakness. This is a hard vocation. It goes against the grain of our need for self-affirmation, self-fulfillment, and self-realization. It is a call to true humility. I, therefore, think that for those who are pulled away from their familiar surroundings and brought into a strange land where they feel again like babies, the Lord offers a unique chance not only for a personal conversion but also for an authentic ministry."

Due to the nature of his Catholic-ness and priesthood, I believe that anyone`s resistance and discomfort with the God language above can easily be excused, especially using Julia Cameron`s semi-useful terminology, "Good Orderly Direction" (not that I don`t have problems with this approach!...it`s just the first thing that comes to mind to placate those who fear God language). I really appreciate his observations and insights, his awareness and spirituality, but then again, I`ve been really sucked into the beneficiality of spiritual practice (and the variety of spiritual practices) after so many years spent in the company of folks who concentrate their thoughts and energies, livelihoods and schedules, on the creation, maintenance, and perpetuation of sacred space, such that it works both for all and for each one, alone.

Keep reading: Culture Shock...

A Matter of Presumed Inferiority

The limits and expectations imposed on women make the 95% Muslim population demographic rather depressing (though of course there is the chance this presumes too much about the individualization of Islam; perhaps in Senegal and elsewhere women are granted a certain autonomy and independence they might not be granted in certain fundamentalist Muslim circles...which cross-applies to fundamentalist Christian and Jewish households, as well...which is perhaps the largest dent in my corrolation above to depressing-ness).

Yet the question persists in my head--how can a population that avows women`s hardworking-ness and strongwilled-ness....that prioritizes women for loans because they`ll pay them back, that supports the women in their endeavors...also debase and demean and view women as inferior?

(Senegal – January 7, 2009. El Hadj will ask me to grab a folder for him that is equidistant from both of us. Why should I get up to get him something when he could get up and get it himself? Maybe if it was within my reach, but it is not. Is it because I’m a woman? When I tell him that it is a ridiculous thing to request of me, he gets all puffed up about how “that’s enough.” He told me yesterday he didn’t know what “stop” meant and then just kept saying the same thing a million times to me. I just can’t stand it.)

It is in response to such audacious arrogance that feminism ever bubbled to the surface constantly throughout the heavy history of patriarchy! This doesn`t mean I don`t sympathize with all of my guy friends` joking about an over-emphasis on patriarchy, rape, oppression, etc., but when I`m here, immersed in the illogic and nonsensical inequity pervasive in the daily life and treatment and perception of women, that I see--well, remember!--why feminism and a plea for equal treatment, equal roles, a view of men and women as equals, excepting certain glaring/obvious exceptions and impossibilities, had to arise, what it was so virulently responding to... and I see how my lifetime despising and intolerance for intolerant/irrational American males looks so petty in comparison to the cultural conditioning of Senegalese males...

Do they (Senegalese males) not work so hard or as seriously/dedicatedly because they are men and expect women to do everything for them (otherwise they are perceived as bad sisters, wives, friends, mothers?). Is it because of Islam? Because TRIBAL LIVING equates to egalitarian living, and how far this has disintegrated in Senegal, the urban settings, at least, which I have experienced, speaks volumes for the rapid decline of the tribal livelihood and speaks even more to my disillusionment about not traveling deeper into Senegal, into smaller-scale, more traditional villages where at least animism is still alive, and "bio-construction"/natural building, too, to see if that means tribalism is still even half-alive there, too, perhaps on its last legs but still kicking --?

Keep reading: A Matter of Presumed Inferiority...

Thiaroye.

Thiaroye, Senegal. January 4, 2009.

I feel so happy, comfortable, utterly content. I like being in Senegal so much that it is going to be crazy difficult to part with this land when it comes time to board my south African Airlines flight home, but I realized this a while ago, and realizing this doesn’t actually help.

After some initial hubbub (mostly Marian being nagging), I stepped out to get a breath of fresh air, and ran into Marian, who asked if I’d be willing to accompany her back to her house. I was pleasantly surprised by how enjoyable/agreeable this morning excursion turned out to be: (I loved the exciting cityscape that stretched out, from her rooftop apartment), her telling me that she’d taken a voluntary vow of poverty, her offering me coffee, talking about Jisselle’s homesickness/discomfort, and what I might be able to do to make her feel more comfortable (Marian exclaiming, tears in her eyes, “Oh, isn’t it amazing/delight/wonderful/great how the universe brings together {the right people at the right time}..her optimism here gave me a feeling of a heavy burden of responsibility, a responsibility that in the coming days I grew to feel I’d failed to uphold – finishing this journal 1/9/09, during the downtime while being excluded from the loan application process), her giving me copies of our worksheets as well as a form or 2 I’d missed, talking to David on the roof, etc….”proscriptive” vs. “participatory” involvement; international development; feeding the birds,; road crossing.

Anyway, we finally left for Thiaroye…there, breakfast…tour that turned into women yelling at us over talking their photos for no effect/progress/their seeing any benefit…meeting with supposed Ecovillage president, me asking incendiary question about education, him asking what I was studying – sociology? -- at which point I replied telling what I’m studying doesn’t tell him anything about me…Thiaroye 44, where 224 men Senegalese are buried – how French repaid for fighting for them in WWII – largest keyhole bed I’ve ever seen…night visit to Christian’s home…strange translated conversation with his father about Palestine, history, war, and resistance.

My Photos:

Fish-Drying Operation

Drain

Thiaroye Scenic Walk

Well

Thiaroye 44

Factory Gardens

"Baghdad"

The Beach

The Women of Leye Djite

The Women of Pencom Dembaa

Keep reading: Thiaroye....

The Quirks, Idiosyncracies, and Irk-doms of Sustainable (International) Development

January 6, 2009 – evening (A Matter of Presumed Authority)

We went back to the office around 5 o’clock to meet the 2 groups of women and to take their photos. Only our group of women showed up (well, one woman came for the photo of Adama’s fish-drying group), and we took their photo at the beginning.

Then, Adama and El Hadj informed me that we then would talk to them about “the importance of the ecovillage,” which was news to me, especially when Adama said, “Okay, now you’ll speak, and I’ll translate,” very abruptly, as is his style. I then had to quickly come up with some impromptu points and platitudes so that I could rattle off some general statements about the aesthetics of sustainability of the ecovillage in Senegal, throwing in the interwoven-ness of EDE on top of it. The women nodded and responded (kind of), but then when I asked them, as Adama had asked them, how their daily activities fit in with the ecovillage as a whole, they replied only with an account of their daily activities, not with how their activities affect those of others in their community. So that was disappointing, especially with it looming over my head how Marian told us that the sign of our learning is if the ecovillagers learn. But no matter how I shifted the questions in all the simulations and actual, serious meetings this week, it didn’t seem to have any sway. The leaders and workers did not soak up the framework, the manner of conceptualizing the ecovillage. I do not know how much this was due to the translation and to the lack of sustainability coursework and familiarity on the part of the Senegalese students, but either way it is frustrating and unsatisfying. Urf.

The women turned to me at the end, and via Adama, said that they were very happy and grateful? and had good hopes that I would help them. Dear me! I may be a “toubab,” but I do not implicitly by my toubab-ness carry all the weight and responsibility for financing their livelihoods with microcredit (What of the other students who were there with me? Didn't the women want their help, too?). Of course there are reasons they view the situation this way, reasons El Hadj repetitively prattles off about how they are wary of letting us white people take their pictures because too many have asked before to take their photos, promising to arrange aid and have only consistently succeeded in lying to them, the villagers, and failing them, in bringing them more of nothing as far as outside help is concerned. Nevertheless, it seems it should somehow be the Senegalese students’ job, as other students and as translators, to make it clear that we are only students sent out on behalf of GENSEN and SEM, sent as representatives, field workers, etc. to document the various ecovillage activities and transform them into compelling microcredit loan applications (this has also been frustrating, the Senegalese students compounding the functions of GENSEN and SEM, so that when the villagers’ words come back translated, the words “microcredit” and “microfinance” come up when we are merely talking about the ecological and economic viability and perpetuation of ecovillages. Rarrr?)...I , by virtue of being an American and otherwise privileged person, do not somehow have more authority than the Senegalese students to judge the sustainability and virtue of the loan applications during their loan credit process (for neither of our groups of students will ultimately decide on the order in which the loans are funded), nor do they somehow have more authority to judge those merits than the villagers themselves. This is perhaps the hierarchy everyone else around me sees, but it is not how I view the situation. Even though when Marian and I were speaking she said that we don’t have time (nor training, apparently – somehow it would help if we’d taken a couple classes on international development) to really involve the villagers in the process in a fully participatory way, that we are reduced to giving merely proscriptive –style training, advising villagers in the top-down European organizational way instead of in an egalitarian, responsibility/leadership- sharing manner. But I, in the actual heart of this course in the first half of the work so far thi s week, have not felt ther is even time for for THIS. There was enough time to scrunch in EDE(which as I discussed was only roughly discussed—even though watching the villagers in the meeting, they were clearly intrigued by the diagram (reasons I think if there were fewer and clearer images, it ocould almost speak on its own), to hear all their project purviews, to have them sort out 2 priorirty microcredit projects, and to get all the basics down for the loan. There is not, however, really time (or perhaps even a way) to get the villagers to reconceive their lifestyle, totally shift their thinking to ecovillage and sustainability thinking, to think not only of finance in terms of their own businesses and how they can be profitable for them (though of cours tey share the earning s with their families and the cooperatives) in terms of current of current endeavors. Marian has such interest in how microfinance can b used in resoundingly good/positive/ transformative developmental ways, but even a proscriptive approach cannot really get/reach this goal, and we weren’t even given enough space to be proscriptive. We had no wiggle room to shake up the villagers’ understanding (perhaps they are past the age to be affected anyway – though I’m not sure why I’m being so cynical—perhaps it was the insistence today on the lack, or, more accurately, non-existence of natural not-toxic, natural cloth dyes – but the villagers definitely demonstrate an understanding of trash problems, pollution in the air and the sea, overharvesting of fish, etc. – all kinds of major issues they have to deal with in Thiaroye and do- w/advocacy and education every time they meet people and tell them about the ecovillage-ness of Thiaroye), and to get them to shift gears in their development directionality. Oh well? It’s just very hard, tedious, unrewarding work, because it cannot actually redefine the bounds of everyday practice and lived experience, mentality and approach. But then, perhaps all this indicates is a certain infectious over-reliance and over-confidence, a self-inflation and an over-emphasis on self-importance. Perhaps the greatest thing I can learn and harness is the feeling of irrelevance, uselessness, and arbitrariness I experienced yesterday. For in many ways, the villagers’ existing successes, mentalities, meeting process, and solidarity/cooperation are overwhelmingly inspiring and beautiful as it is. Perhaps I need most to see how I am merely an observer, unnecessary as a participant but essential as an understander of the knack for so-called (“self-determination”).

Keep reading: The Quirks, Idiosyncracies, and Irk-doms of Sustainable (International) Development...

Language Barrier!

January 5, 2009.

I have a lot of mixed-up feelings and frustrations being here, and I want to do justice to them all in words, but writing is a process that is like sand falling through my fingers. As soon as I put pen to paper, my ideas dissipate and dissolve in my head.

Currently, I am sitting in a meeting with 5 of us representing GENSEN and SEM, and I AM ANGRY. There are 6 group leaders, actually 7 when I look around, maybe 8, because the person speaking now does not look like the ecovillage president we met yesterday. We have Mamadou Dieng, who we’re staying with here, also. That makes 14 people in this office. And it doesn’t even matter that I’m here. El Hadj actually just stated this, very (off-handedly) much a brushing off…

I feel as though I’ve been thrown into an acrobatic trap of ropes and pulleys, boxed into corners, into situations that are awkward, that I don’t want to be in.

It’s kind of like I have to accept that some things will never be understood, some things just won’t be translated; but it’s in many ways easier just to become exceedingly frustrated, animated, hyper-critical, and give up.

Today, we had a meeting with the leaders of Thiaroye, and we had a very tense and heated beginning to to the (pre)meeting, but I kept running up against a brick wall of language barrier, with very little of my worries and concerns actually being understood and addressed. We’d agreed to each discuss one quadrant of the EDE diagram, but when it came time to discuss it, El Hadj described the whole thing and then told Jisselle and me it doesn’t matter if we help or not. We felt very irrelevant, unnecessary, unwanted, and excluded from the process, and though we expressed this, we were only met with misunderstanding and more impoliteness from the males.

Keep reading: Language Barrier!...