any time over the next 6 weeks, i will only be found in Oman... or my blog. probably better you just look for me on the blog.
06.16.10 // Twenty-Five Toes // Lira Uganda I believe the phrase goes, ‘If these walls could talk, oh the stories they’d tell.” As I sit here with these children, I wonder what stories their feet would tell me. How many miles have they walked without shoes over rocky roads and uncultivated fields? How many times have they fetched the day’s water or run under a tree for shelter from the rain. These feet have built callouses to protect but also to survive. If their feet could talk, I think it would leave mine speechless.
His eyes are so intense, staring back at me like a little warrior. I wonder what he thinks when he looks at me so intently... Does he wonder why I am here as much as I want to know his story? Does he want to meet my family in the same way I want to know his sisters? Is he curious about my white skin and curly hair as much as I am intrigued by the dirt on his dark face? I wonder what he's thinking. But the only words he speaks are with his eyes. There comes a moment in each life experience where you must decide if...
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[excerpts from my observations, field notes and analysis at Page Street from January 25 - May 7 though names have been changed. all photographs taken with permission]
I’ve attended Page Street Center’s food distribution program almost every Monday for four months. What began as ethnographic research and language observations of an urban center turned into a relationship with the people that superseded a school project.
after several months of waiting, i finally know where i’ll be researching this summer, Lisq Oman! (i’m not going to lie… i had to look it up on a map.)
i’m in a program that focuses on qualitative research. gathering more information on behaviors and perspectives, we investigate the why and how rather than numbers and data. working with an in-country organization and interpreters, our research will focus on the following questions/themes:
Alone, Michael Kuany, is just a man from Africa. Born into a war-torn country, destined to lead a difficult life, Michael – by himself – can do very little to change the world. In community, however, Michael Kuany is the catalyst behind a growing movement. Friday night, his story provided the context for a few artists and friends to come together and dream of a better future for Sudan. How would your impact change if you teamed with others? Thanks to all of you who were able to participate in our Reflections of Africa photography show! We were overwhelmed with the turnout...
Read Morebe sure you’re coming to the photography show THIS FRIDAY NIGHT!!! yes, my first San Francisco showing and all for a good cause. all of the money we raise from the silent auction is going towards the school i helped design this summer during my month in Africa. so be there and buy a photo. and if you won’t be there, stay tuned, because you’ll soon be able to buy it online as well. REFLECTIONS OF AFRICA a collections of stories and photographs FRIDAY, AUGUST 28TH 7-9PM AT MERIDIAN GALLERY 535 POWELL STREET SAN FRANCISCO, CA ALL PROCEEDS FOR REBUILDSUDAN.ORG download the invite here: reflections-of-africa
i am seeing africa, their africa. it is not as i imagined it. it is more gentle than aggressive. is more sincere than sinister. their skin so scarred yet pure; their eyes so piercing yet gentle. i want to meet them; i want to know them. i want to be here with them.
everywhere we go, we seen evidence of the past. it’s as if we cannot escape these signs of war which point towards the pain still lingering in this place. i wonder if they serve as healthy reminder of what was or if they hinder the future of what could be. as the green branches over take the rusted steel, i believe hope is on the way.
i wish i could see life through his eyes. i would give anything right now to enter his world to understand him more. no matter how hard i try, i will always be an outsider. kawaja, they call me… white person is my label. again and again, all day long, i am known by my skin, as one who does not belong. how i long to see through his eyes…instead, i can only see myself in them.
i am flying over the sudan and i cannot even begin to describe this moment. below me lies a network of huts, a collection of villages, a living organism of tribes, a ethos of culture. it has existed long before my time and will continue long after my visit. even from above, i can see the way they are connected, the way they are intricately woven together. …………………. i recently spent a month in africa and am catching up my blog with stories from my journey. to hear more about our projects and why i was there, see HERE to see my photos from this...
Read Moreif you cannot make it to one of my 5 talks this week on india, [i know... all the same week... why do i do this to myself?!] here’s a sampler… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ju-9FOlDty4
one of the most unique parts about hiking through india is not the 22,000+ high peaks or the expansive view of the himalayan mountain range, but the path which takes you through, not around, the villages. completely surrounded by trees and not a soul in sight one moment and then the next you’ll be walking through someone’s porch and by their front door in order to continue on your journey. my trek to harkidun took us through remote villages and into a more secluded part of india than i have experienced yet. no need for money here, the bartering system...
Read Moreessentially, holi is like a giant community car wash gone wild. water balloons, water guns, and buckets of water are used to douse passers by. most also use powdered dye to add to the effect, chasing each other around and painting each other pink and orange. holi (literally “burning”) is known as the festival of color. it signals the coming of summer and is one of the most popular hindu festivals, especially among young people… i’m just glad it means warmness is coming! at its best, holi is a time when families and friends come together to play and have fun. traditionally,...
Read Morebecause i’m way behind… 16 february i wrapped up the guntur project today [november project trip]. drawings are printed, report is complete. it’s good to see one from beginning to end and this one with my fingerprints all over it. design here must be so much simpler in order for it to be built by day laborers and i am challenged to find beauty in such simplicity. the school was my main focus; there were a few things i had to fight for, but they all made their way through the refining to the final drawings. i’m working on developing a basic...
Read Moreobviously, there are many things different about the everyday of india compared to the everyday of rest of the world…clothing, food, language…and eunuchs. yes eunuchs. perhaps you remember them being mentioned in the OT and maybe even recall hearing of them in history class. but their existence in the modern world of today? who would imagine? once again, the answer to such questions…only in india. a little background for you… eunuchs - castrated males - have been in existence since the 9th century b.c. the word is derived from the greek “keeper of the bed” because castrated men were in popular demand...
Read Morethis has been one of those ’speak little do much’ kind of weeks. though work was officiallyover for the semester the 15th, i’ve been pleasantly busy with odds and ends filling my days. chai time with friends and cookie dates with a three year old. my eyebrows, though painfully, are now neatly threaded and i suffered a tragic loss involving half a dozen bananas and an arrogant monkey. [and you thought it was just on tv!] i’ve enjoyed early morning walks and late morning showers, extended time to myself and more moments processing a generous orthodoxy. and despite a not so minor burn on my foot...
Read MoreIndian Passage | Mussoorie, India On my way into the village's market, I always pass this door. It belonged to the same man who carved wood on his porch and next to the children who always played under the colorful lines of laundry. I never learned where it went or what the chalked markings were left on its surface. But I imagine it leads to something mysteriously India, or a moment unique only to this place, or to people who would welcome me as family if only I would step through its door.
journaled 8 november, 2006 i wonder what she’s thinking and i want to hear her story. she’s one of the older girls of the orphanage, 13 she tells me, and in the 8th class. every meal she helps serve us and our water glasses never stay empty for long. with her long braids hang behind her, her dark eyes always observing and i want to know her story. we were done working for the day and unwinding before bed. i heard the children singing on the other side of the wall and couldn’t resist sneaking over to watch. i pulled up a...
Read Morejournaled 5 november, 2006 can every day really be filled with such full life? with such purpose? we awoke early to the beginning day noises on the other side of the wall. we are being housed on the second floor of the children’s home, our seven in one half and their 36 in the other. i could hear them getting ready, clothing themselves in sunday’s best. all their possessions held in one single trunk, they folded up their mats and placed them inside. carefully, they helped each other stack them up in the back room, allowing the service to take place...
Read Moreindia has trouble caring for the living, but it perhaps reveals more of itself in how it cares for the dead. laws can be made and unmade with a stroke of a fountain pen, but attitudes must be crafted with time and unflagging will. in india the greatest barrier to class integration may well be the attitude of the untouchables themselves. the poorest and the least educated members of society, harijans, are often the most conservative as well. at election time they may vote to shake the tree in hopes of dislodging choicer fruit, but most would never consider chopping the...
Read Moreas i’ve been here these past few months, i’ve especially enjoyed extra time to read. most of the books i’ve read have been set in india or written by an indian author. in their vivid use of words and articulate sentence structures, they seem to describe this place far better than i ever could. in my absence, i hope to share a few of their descriptions for which i myself could never find the adequate words. india is everything human. it is all of our history: it is the past, it is the future. if it has been thought, experienced, or...
Read Moreher name is anna, my name is jill. one 6 hour train ride from vijayawada, our paths crossed. we shared a bond between seats 55 and 56 which was unique and memorable. she went to school to be a psychologist, her brother’s a priest. i call myself an architect, my brother’s a software engineer. she’s been a sister in the catholic church since she was 28. last month, she turned 70. next month, i’ll be 25. the gray hairs peek out from beneath her head covering. my blond curls are in much need of washing. we talked about andhra pradesh and gelatto in italy. she told me of life in the...
Read Morea twenty six hour train ride wouldn’t be so bad if that were all we had. but on either side of the day long adventure, existed another six hour train and hour and a half taxi…all in all 6 days of strictly traveling. let’s just say we are anxious to get to this place i am just now learning to pronounce, machilipatnam. each sleeper train car is filled with many compartments. there are six beds, two sets of three bunk beds, perpendicular to the long of the train. each set its own window and a small space from which one climbs...
Read Moreyesterday, i hiked the himalayas…or at least the part of them…ah…perhaps just the foothills. the hiking was…okay. but it was what i found on the bottom that i won’t soon forget. to punjab, this was just another day on the job. [names changed to protect the innocent, or not so innocent] there are eight neighboring villages he travels to over the course of two weeks, each a couple hours away from home base in mussoorie. you cannot get to the villages by car, not even by horse. you must hike, so hike he does. for a day, he took us along...
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