the arts foundry

peru 2009

2009-10-10T14:46:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow I am heading into the Peruvian Amazon, specifically to the Reserva Comunal Amarakaeri (RCA) with representatives from FENAMAD, Federacion Nativa del Rio Madre de Dios y Afluentes. It is a crucial moment for the indigenous people of this region. Big oil in the form of Hunt Oil (google Hunt Oil to see the endless hits about its relationship with the Bush family) has begun a hostile push into the region to begin oil exploration. (See www.ww4report.com/node7771 for more information.) Until recently, local indigenous communities have held together in their fight over the highly illegal way Hunt Oil has begun to move in. The Peruvian government has ignored legislative procedures by signing contracts with Hunt Oil without the participation of the people of the region.

Hunt Oil's imperialist tactics of manipulation, deception, and false promises of financial gain has steadily been breaking apart the unity the members of this region once had. At first, they sought to separate communities in order to breakdown communication in the region. They have taken it further. They are now actively and strategically breaking apart families. As of this morning, Hunt Oil representatives are on the ground in the reserve going from family to family to make deals and gain support.

One of our immediate goals is to meet with local leaders and community members to dispel the lies they are being told and re-build the community network they once had. This trip is the first of many that need to happen in the coming months. We are at a disadvantage because Hunt Oil obviously has more money and thus more ability to have a presence in the region.

My role with Los Commandos will be to witness and document our interactions in the communities and possibly with the representatives of Hunt Oil. Officially, I have volunteer status with Wanamei Expeditions, an eco-tourism company based in the area. ecoturismowanamei.com.

RCA is the geographical center of the Vilcambo Amboro ecological corridor that stretches south to central Bolivia and northeast through Brazil and southern Ecuador. For those of us from the Rockies, think about the Yellowstone to Yukon corridor. It is the same idea here. Along this corridor, there is a vast exchange of water, soil, plants, and animals. If the corridor is disrupted the entire region will undoubtedly suffer. If Hunt Oil gets its way, the region will be decimated, making it uninhabitable for the indigenous people who call it home.

FENAMAD has some good support from the NGO sector, for example the Norwegian organization called Rainforest Foundation (rainforestfoundation.org), but the NGO sector simply cannot respond to this urgency in any timely way. We need to get our people into the region as soon as possible.

So here it is, friends. This is the metaphorical car crash for me. Do I wait around to see if someone else will come to help the injured, trapped in their cars, or do I jump? Now?

I believe that this has come to me because there is something I can do. And now I am putting it to you. We need money to fight. If you know me at all, you know that I like to do things on my own. I can't do this alone.

In deciding how to handle financial assistance from the US, we decided that the best way to do it would be to send money directly to my account in the states, which I can easily access from here. We considered using the FENAMAD account at the Banco Credito here in Cusco, but concerns of corruption make that unrealistic.

Mail checks to:

Edward Jones

1001 W. Oak Street Suite 203

Bozeman, MT 59715

(make checks out to me.)

If you decide you can help us, please e-mail me back with the amount of your contribution, so I can keep track of funds.

Anything you can give goes directly into this remarkable place in the world, home of ancient wisdom that all of us could benefit from. I hope you understand how urgent this is. It is happening right now.

I leave early in the morning to begin the journey out of the Andes. I expect to be back in Cusco sometime next week. Keep us in your thoughts.

Shannon

Hi.

I am just now beginning to grasp the complexity of what lies ahead. Forget good guys and bad guys, with the exception of Hunt Oil of course. Those guys are obviously involved in goals that are violent to humans and destructive to the environment. But looking deeper at the situation, one quickly begins to see that simple solutions do not exist. We are talking about diverse cultural and linguistic groups. How do you get people to work together when they don't even speak the same language? Then throw into the mix how totally different they are from one another, and you begin to see the work that FENAMAD has before them.

We traveled overland to Shintuya Native community on the Upper Madre de Dios river. These folks are Harakmbut speakers whose lives changed dramatically two generations ago when the Dominican priests set up a mission on their lands. While we were there, Wanamei representatives hosted a workshop about eco-tourism, what it means, how to achieve it, and ways to work together. The atmosphere in the workshop was upbeat. People are interested, but they are still trying to figure out what questions to ask. It was a strong first step.

An interesting moment for me was when the president of the Shintuya community walked in. In this community of about 200 people, everyone knows everyone else and all of their business. El presidente, recently accepted money from Hunt Oil. In this community where Hunt Oil trucks rumble through every few hours, everyone has taken a side. What was el presidente doing in the workshop? Is he attempting to play both sides? Upon his entrance, certain others quietly got up and walked out of the room. These people have known each other all of their lives and now they do not share space whatsoever. I imagine that it hard to do.

While there, we continued to pass out copies of DVD's regarding Hunt Oil's practices and other DVD's about the devastating effects of the oil extraction process. In this part of the world, there is very little cultural understanding of what it means to lie. Dishonesty is a foreign concept. So when Hunt Oil comes in and says, "No, don't worry. There will be no environmental impact of oil exploration," locals willingly allow them to pass. How do you explain dishonesty? I don't know. Hopefully the DVD packs and fliers we are passing out will do that better than I can.

We continued downriver for several days, stopping in villages along the way. Arnoldo, a Harakmbut from Shintuya, and Jessica, the two main figures in Wanamei, know people up and down the river. We spent much of our time sitting under shade trees in various communities talking with locals. And listening. And passing out information.

Our last stop on the river was Boca Colorado, a shitty colonial town, populated mostly by highlanders imported in by the mining and oil companies to do their dirty work. Not a place you want to be alone, day or night. It is a clever strategy on the part of big corporations to bring these folks in. It much easier to do destructive work when the land belongs to someone else.

From there, we traveled overland to Puerto Maldonado, district capital and home of FENAMAD headquarters. That night I was able to attend a meeting with the FENAMAD lawyers who had come in from Lima. These guys are good. They are balanced, steadfast, and ready to work. An appeal has been put together to get an injunction against Hunt Oil. As we all know, the legal process can drag on forever, but we are off to another good start.

I would like to take this opportunity to offer deepest thanks to those of you who have sent funds. It is imperative that FENAMAD continues to receive this kind of support. Your contributions are being spent right now. A delegation of FENAMAD representatives left yesterday to begin the journey to the community of San Jose, a difficult trek to the center of the reserve. This weekend is the community's anniversary and people will travel from all over the area to attend. Having a FENAMAD presence there will have an important impact. Thank you thank you.

If you feel awkward about sending money to my account, I understand. I know that Americans get bombarded with requests for assistance. I hope that you all at least take a moment to check out FENAMAD's website fenamad.org (in Spanish only) or http://fenamad-indigenas.blogspot.com/2009/09/native-communities-of-madre-de-dios.html, a great blog that really gets to the heart of the matter.

Ok, enough for now. More to come, I am sure.

Shannon

pays dogon

2009-02-20T10:17:00.000-08:00

i never know how to come home. sometimes slipping back into the groove is seamless. surrounded by great friends and montana skies, home is where i digest visions of other places and new connections. other times, coming to montana confuses my senses. i have figured out that the best prescription for settling back to life when i feel challenged is to just slow down, be quiet for a bit, and let my world be small till i am ready to dive back in to my community.

one week after this homecoming, i took a fall skiing and blew my ACL, PCL, and meniscus. huh. slow down, be quiet, and heal. i will have surgery on march 2, and till then will have much time to contemplate. i am immobilized in a town where people sit still only when they have to. so many of us have been hurt doing the sports we love. i figure it is just my time. not pleased about it, but able to see the bigger picture.

my bigger picture has the most lovely details. graceful old women carefully maneuvering the trail down the cliffs, teems of children playing in the stream, reminders of ancient settlements high in the cliffs and stories of its people who many believe had the power of flight. there is a rich source of imagery bubbling from mind and little of it is self-created. my mental files overflow with information about the world. i may not be able to walk very well right now, no matter. there are many places i can go.

our friends at Dje Yamen had planned an excursion to take us for a day trip to visit Tireli, home to one of Tandana's school garden projects. we traveled by car that morning to the edge of the escarpment and got our first breathtaking views of the cliffs and the plain below. we followed an old trail down the cliff. to be out moving around in this beautiful place was just what i needed. we seemed to move slowly through the cliffs, limited only by the desire to savor every angle, every perspective of the view before us. cameras were clicking away with each turn in the trail, knowing all the time that these photographs would be unable to capture the sense of expansiveness of the sub-saharan landscape.

we entered Tireli from the cliffs and made our way down the meandering paths of the village itself until we arrived at the campement where Isaac had arranged for us to lunch. after lunch, we had the unexpected opportunity to engage the village chief and several other elders in conversation that ranged from regional politics and education to organized religion and traditional animist practices. i appreciate those moments when beliefs i hold onto get turned upside down.

afterward, we strolled over to the school garden where Isaac explained the project's goals and what they are doing to achieve them. with each discussion of local problems and their potential solutions, i have a growing awareness of the centrality of local insights to create enduring, positive change. Isaac and his cohorts are intimately connected with their environments and have well-informed, progressive ways of understanding the challenges before them.

we spent the rest of the afternoon visiting with the children. surely they must have been wondering what the heck we were doing there. still, they were polite, gracious hosts.

later that evening, as we toured through the countryside on our ride back to Bandiagara, the cliff settlements of the ancient Tellem people loomed overhead. i considered Isaac's comments from earlier in the day, that the Tellem had recently returned to their villages in the cover of night and flown up to their former dwellings to perform their ancestral ceremonies. when asked how he knew they had come even though no one had seen them, Isaac considered the question as though it was nonsense. he said, "well, we just know that we know." that made perfect sense to me.

this intellectual dilemma asks us to believe in multiple, contradictory things at the same time. i have no doubt that these ancient ones can fly and i know that the human capacity for flight is dependent on certain technologies. it is perfectly acceptable to take both of these notions into my belief system. the power of contradictory, opposing forces dissipates. instead of hanging my hat on this notion or that, i simply get to acquire more hats.

how divine.

Djenne to Bandiagara

2009-02-09T11:33:00.000-08:00

we left Djenne in the early afternoon, headed for Bandiagara. a dry, hazy afternoon lay still upon the horizon. we all seemed to grow quiet that afternoon. whether it was the distilling of new ideas of this African experience or preparing oneself for the upcoming unknown ahead of us, i do not know. the ride was uneventful, but still i felt in my heart a stirring of anticipation.

we had spent the morning working with a family of bogolan mud-cloth artists. Bogolan is a local textile technique that uses mixtures of clay and other natural ingredients to dye cloth. the traditional cloths tend toward complicated geometric patterns while the newer cloths are more representational. after a quick demonstration, they set us to work on our own cloths. i often refer to myself as someone who is artistically challenged. i even get jittery in the face of crafty or otherwise art-y projects. that morning however, as we set up our cloths on the roof of the house overlooking all of Djenne with the Grand Mosque in the background, i realized that it would be foolish to do anything but find peace in the process. the night before, i had had a dream about a mint green cruiser bicycle, so i decided to attempt to give my bicycle life on cloth. after the mud had dried, we carried our cloths to the river where our new friends carefully washed the mud away to reveal the designs we each had created. Aubrey's swirls and shapes, Anna's motorcycle, Ursula's geometrics, all of them were wonderful. little bits of ourselves right there on the cloth. surprise, i even liked mine a little bit.

there was a stillness that settled in me while we were working on our cloths. since arriving in Africa, it had been all go, go, go. last minute running around, logistical details, trying to find the time to get to know everyone in the group, all these things seemed to wring the hours out of the day. so to have a few moments on a crisp, sunny morning to be quiet, yet together held a sweet richness for me.

perhaps this opportunity for introspection lingered as we loaded up the trucks that afternoon and followed us down the road to Bandiagara. one member of our group was not feeling well and i was worried, but optimistic. i grappled with other uncertainties as well. nothing special, just the regular program-running sort of stuff. but more that anything else, the refrain that settled in my internal dialogue went something like this, "i am here. here i am. Africa Africa Africa."

several hours later, Timothee, Moussa, Daniel, Isaac, and Noum hosted us to a lovely welcome dinner. the stage was set. the momentum had been created. it was as though everything up till then had been a slow walk up a long mountain and we were just about to crest the hill to get our first view of the landscape. but not yet. there were still a few more things to do.

yalema-palooza 2009

2009-02-02T11:50:00.000-08:00

the world has changed since i last wrote. i confess that i too have changed. i'd like to think that each one of us is in a constant flux, a state where we are open to experiences and are thereby changed and improved because of them. i suppose it is my way of understanding the old Japanese proverb that you cannot step in the same river twice.

speaking of rivers.

last week i floated on the Niger River in central Mali with my nine new friends. the Niger is a big, lumbering desert river that seems to cut the Sahara desert in half. glassy, flatwater bordered on both sides by desert and desert, there are small fishing villages dotted along the waterway. the Bozo people (no jokes, please, that is really the name of their ethnic group) are notorious for their enduring river/fishing culture. they fish from small wooden boats called pirogues, the helmsman working from the rear while another person balances precariously from the narrow bow, working the fishing nets. other larger boats, the pinasses, offer transport for villagers up and down the river. the Niger is a busy place, yet remarkably peaceful. there is something about the light on the water and the welcoming waves of local villagers. something special. something that helped me to digest our experiences in the village and all that led up to it. on another day, the hum of the boat's motor and the quiet lapping of water might have sent me to a sweet doze, but on this trip, the Niger called me to internal attention and i took that time to consider a few big questions.

we had just come from spending a week in Kansongho, a small Dogon village up on the plateau. i had visited this community in July as a representative of the Tandana Foundation. upon returning home from that trip, Anna and i decided to propose a volunteer vacation to the region, hoping that other folks might agree with us that it is a special place. a few short months later, after sending out e-mails, making phone calls, and sending out invitations on facebook (crazy facebook), our group met in downtown Bamako, Mali for the first time. there was no way to know in those first moments how beautifully our group would come together in the coming weeks. but come together, we did. and we were not alone. the people of Kansongho and the very place itself stood not as symbols, but as lively, important parts of our whole. the Tandana volunteers had come to help. how could we know in advance how much we would receive?

done in a direct shot, the journey overland from Bamako to Kansongho is long and grueling, so we decided to break it into a few days, giving everyone a chance to find their feet on African soil and prepare for our time in the village. on the way, we visited the ancient port city of Segou where we stumbled upon an impromptu evening of live music that still has me tapping my toes. one of my favorite evenings of the trip, our night in Segou seemed to be an omen of the wonderful things to come. one by one the musicians and dancers pulled us off our chairs and we danced in the warm African evening. later we traveled to Djenne, home of the world's largest mud brick mosque. we showed up just in time for market day, a swirling madness of vegetable vendors, fishmongers, hardware booths, goats, chickens, calls to prayer. we stayed the night in Djenne to work with a mud cloth artist the following morning, so we had a chance to also see Djenne without the market craziness. it turns out that what had been a mob the day before, became a sleepy little place where we could stroll side streets and make new friends along the way. Thanks to Christopher Lindstrom, we made a great contact in Djenne, a local man named Hamadoun who hosted us with great friendship and graciousness.

our next stop was Bandiagara, our jumping off place before heading into Dogon country. jumping off. jumping in.

sanyelo goes to church

2008-07-16T08:32:00.000-07:00

that's right, i went to church and hell has not in fact frozen over. at least, that is the word on the street.

the ride to kansongho was long and bumpy. by the time we arrived, i was feeling pretty spent. no time for that though. after a quick clean up, we walked over to the small, mud brick church and entered. i followed timothee down the center aisle as he strolled right up to the very front. my goodness, i thought, that pastor has not missed a beat even though every eye in the room was firmly placed on yours truly. for anyone who knows me well, the word "demure" does not pop into mind. but that was my goal for the moment. be small, don't be distracting, just try to kind of, y'know, blend in. ha.

after the sermon, timothee got up and made a speech in dogon, but i heard my name mentioned as well as tandana and anna's. he signaled to me to stand up and when i did, the whole place went up in applause and laughter. i felt positively giddy by the whole thing. my four wonderful guides then led the congregation in a joyous song and the service was over just like that.

it is odd to recall the sense of homecoming i had in those moments. it was as if they knew i was coming and they had prepared for the return of their old friend. they shared with me a warmth of spirit that is not something i am accustomed to, and yet i relished it all the more. i know that this speaks to the energy and kindness of my dear friend anna, who has offered me this path to stroll. and i will be thanking her for a long time.

immediately, one of the village's elder women offered me my new dogon name. they now know me as sanyelo, which means in dogon "one who doesn't lose the way." i hope that bodes for my future.

after walking through the village to offer our greetings, we adjourned at the compound of moussa's brother. some lunch and a rest in the shade. soon enough, one of the elder men came into the compound carrying a live chicken. he explained that in dogon culture, if someone shares the name of one of your relatives, then that person is to be treated in the same manner. he said that since i have the same name as his sister, then i am his sister as well. and would i do him the honor of accepting his chicken? would i?!?! heck yeah, i'll take that chicken. again, the whole place erupted in laughter.

then, a few minutes later, a lovely old crone hobbled in, and guess what she had? yep, a chicken. she said, "i am sanyelo also. you must take my chicken." with tears of laughter still in my eyes, i accepted her chicken. i pulled timothee aside and said that we had better get outta here before there's a serious chicken shortage. he readily agreed.

many hugs goodbye later, we were back on the bikes zooming for town. my mind is spinning with questions. i daresay that i might be having a bit of a philosophical crisis. things about cultural distances and the possibilities for genuine human connection, aid work, volunteering, generousity, priorities, travel. these ideas weigh on me, as they should considering i find myself in what the UN considers to be the fourth poorest country in the world. it is hard to look away. so instead, i intend to lay my gaze right on it and keep it there till i figure it out. i suppose i ought to first find the questions.

2008-07-14T05:07:00.000-07:00

of course, there are more beautiful places in the world. and probably there are places where the people are more generous, the children more lively, and the vistas more spectacular. i am sure such a place exists and when i figure out where it is, nothing will stop me from going there. as of now, that yet-unvisited place must compete with the grandeur of dogon country.

i managed to catch a ride with cristina nardone of USAID to bandiagara, where i hoped to track down timothee dolo and moussa tembine, two of anna friends. i had the wonderful, if somewhat nerve-wracking task of delivering funds from the tandana foundation that are designated for three school garden projects in the area. i arrived in town just as timothee was leaving for a few days, so i the opportunity to dash out to the escarpment for some hiking. i reunited with some folks i had met in bamako and spent three nights under the stars, re-fueling. getting outside after the rush rush of town is a medicine for me that helps me to find my feet and keeps things in perspective.

i returned to bandiagara and hooked up with timothee and moussa, in addition to daniel and isaac. these four men make up the non-governmental organization called dje yamen, which in dogon means "the messengers". they work as liasons with external organizations in specific local areas. as the five of us sat and chatted that first day, it was clear that these men maintain only the highest hopes for their communities and their families. the solutions they see are practical and manageable. it was decided in that brief meeting that they would take me to see the sites of the proposed projects. on friday, daniel would take me to kori-maounde where he is the primary school teacher. then saturday to sunday isaac and moussa would take me to tereli for the night the return via kansongho the following day.

my french is ok. there's a lot i miss. but there is also a lot i catch. let's just say, i was pretty excited for the upcoming expedition, as we took to calling it.

it turns out that all four men wanted join all legs of the trip, so we had quite a posse. the first day at kori-maounde was lovely. a picturesque village on the plateau, kori-maounde is the site where fourteen volunteers from tandana will be visiting in january to help construct a canal for watering the school garden. when i arrived, the village president came to greet me and was thrilled about the new work. a thousand photographs later, we hopped back on the motorcycles and returned to bandiagara.

we decided to wait till the afternoon to leave for tereli. the midday heat can really be something. the ride that afternoon was just incredible, out through the bush, over the rocks, to the very edge of the escarpment and an expansive view of tereli and the plains below. we left the bikes there and began our descent down the cliffs on foot. seriously. i love this, i am thinking the whole time. really? i get to do this? yes. i do.

the hike was short but dramatic. about 45 minutes later, we strolled into isaac's compound and met his beautiful wife and children. we toured the school and isaac spoke excitedly about the many ideas he has for the school. so much to do! he is a man of inexhaustible energy and humor. we walked through the village and i was presented to various important people.

my four guides arranged a place for me to stay at the local campement where i passed the night again under the stars, letting my drowsy mind float from place to place, but always coming back to stillness.

in the morning, we ascended the cliffs, hopped on the motos and went screaming toward kansongho. a journey, to be sure.

as it was sunday, we arrived just in in time to catch the last bit of church. and that is another story altogether...

2008-07-05T03:55:00.000-07:00

with this french keyboard, i am back to the hunt and peck typing method of earlier days. bear with me.

bamako (the capital of mali) is nuts. it is like no other capital city in the world. i say that as if i am all-knowing, which i certainly am not. i do however have a pretty good imagination, and i cannot fathom a comparable madness. i suppose that what confuses me most is the contradiction of the place. streets over packed with cars, buses, motos, and vendors with their wares spilling into every available space, music, loudspeakers, hawkers hawking, calls to prayer, chaos chaos chaos. mud brick buildings and red earthen streets, and the occasional western-style architecture. then come the moments of being still, greeting someone on the street or perhaps in the midst of errands. ça va? how are you? how is your family? how is your home? your health? yes, life is good. thanks to allah. soft handshakes and gentle smiles. but really, the most extraordinary part of bamako is the glamour. i have a hard enough time keeping my t-shirt clean through lunch. but these people, men and women alike, remain beautifully kept even while they toil in these dirty streets. i try my best, but know that it is not reasonable that i will keep up.

in bamako, i was able to track down kris hoffer, the peace corps volunteer coordinator for mali. over dinner at her home, we had a chance to talk about some of the ideas i have for youth creative writing collaboration. there is possibly a new education volunteer coming to the village where i want to work. hopefully, kris will give me the chance to meet her when she begins her training her in bamako toward the end of the month. i hope to get this new volunteer in my grasp. but we will see if she takes the post because it is not exactly what she had requested. at any rate, kris is a riot. i am glad to have made her aquaintance.

i took an overnight bus up here to sevare, the jumping off place for both dogon country and for niger river routes north. with the beginning of rainy season, the river is growing again and river transport should become more accesible. as yesterday was the 4th of july, i ended up at a pizza party with a group of peace corps volunteers. it is wonderful to hear about the various projects at work here, as well as to hear the excitement of my american brothers and sisters. but i also hear their voices drop and see their heads sink when they talk about the sadness and frustration they often feel. this work they do has such wonderful highs with feelings of real connection and respect, but then there are also times when bureacracy, corruption, and hurtful traditions tear at their hearts and they wonder what they hell they are doing here. it is a profound human experience to know such a spectrum of emotions all at one moment.

today, my goal is to find cristina nardone, a USAID worker whose work focuses on environmental tourism. i don't exactly know what that means, but i am going to find out. monday, i will head to bandiagara to find timothee dolo and moussa tembine, friends of anna taft. i am hoping that timothee will be able to hook me up with some teachers at the lyceé, the local high school. there, i will also be able to check on some of the projects that tandana foundation is working on.

seven years ago, i had the wonderful opportunity to visit this place. some things have changed. some things are the same. i am trying to move through here without expectation, but with an open heart. there is too much uncertainty right now for me to jump down from this fence i am on. i am still gathering information.

2008-06-28T10:34:00.000-07:00

...which leads me to my next point. i often hear people say, "so shannon, tell me again, what are you doing in Africa?" typically, when i begin to talk The Arts Foundry, i feel this sly smile that starts at the corners of my mouth and then wraps clear around the back on my head. i simply can't believe how fortunate i am to visit these places, meet these people, and interact on such a fundamental level.

my last two trips to the continent have been with the Traveling School, an all-girl semester abroad program. in addition to working as Academic Program Director, i have also taught history, literature, languages, and cultural studies. my time with TTS proved to be a pivotal experience that has shaped my ideas about scholarship, international relationships, and healthy group dynamics. my students, co-workers, and overseas friends have all contributed to the possibilities i now see as real solutions for many of the problems facing us in our rapidly globalizing community.

back home in bozeman, montana, i am inclined to runaround with this wildly talented group of folks who paint, write, create music, build sculptures, make movies, perform, take photographs, and make graffiti, just to name a few of their talents. i regularly look around at this crew of inspired souls and think to myself, well this must be a rare thing- so many talented people all sitting around this one spot. what are the chances? the only question for me was that, while we all spend so much time together whether skiing or fishing or some other recreational thing, it seemed like each of us were off working alone on our creative projects. i wondered what it would be like if we were to take this wonderful camaraderie and harness it for the sake of our collective creativity. as a couple of us brainstormed ideas for collaboration, we began to draw from the surrealists of the 20's and 30's who were notorious for cross-disciplinary expressive forms. those folks sought and gained inspiration from one another, and in that way, achieved both individual and collective artistic goals.

we hatched a plan, dear gwen provided the space at b. civilized gallery in livingston, and the next thing we knew we had four writers, four painters, and four actors willing to give it a go. we had a blast! and i think everyone felt expanded and excited to work together while simultaneously following one's own unique ideas. twenty-one people participated in our most recent group project, which included filmmakers, poets, sculptors, journalists, moms, horse shoers, and vandals. there were over 150 people in the audience that night.

huh? 150 people crammed in there, all seemingly on the edge of their seats, witnessing our group effort? it was sort of hard to believe. i like to think that i live in this podunk town where ranchers and ski bums can share a beer at the local watering hole. but it turns out, this style of podunk may have an artistic underbelly. you just can't tell by looking at someone what they're capable of. the response to these collaborative projects has been overwhelming. people seem to want more. in that case, i am very happy to take up the task. but be ready. i have one or two ideas.

uh, yeah and how does this have anything to do with Africa?

on monday, i fly to Mali, West Africa where i will spend a month setting up meetings with local teachers and Peace Corps volunteers. i will be presenting my ideas for collaborative creative writing projects, and hopefully they will say, "oui, mademoiselle, we love this idea. let us work together." it is an exploratory trip in the finest sense of the term. there is a great deal of uncertainty, but i am ready for it. i traveled extensively through Mali on my own a few years ago and i am thrilled to go back. this trip however has the excitement of purpose and drive. beyond mere adventure, i may find something unexpected, something i do not yet have the ability to describe.

if my new Malian friends like the curriculum i am designing, the plan is to return to Montana and implement it here with some local kids i know, then in January return to Mali and implement the program there. (more about the curriculum itself later...) i seek to create a space for American kids and Malian kids to understand themselves as all members of the same community, albeit one that has distant corners. certainly we are individuals with our own visions of the world, but how lovely it would be if we could sit together while we take in the view!

that's the quick and dirty for now. i should go pack, but really all i want to do is play golf. i am thinking about taking my sand wedge with me. c'mon, the sahara- world's largest sand trap. i will update this blog as often as i can while i am in Mali, which might not be very often.

thanks for reading!

gearing up

2008-06-18T06:50:00.000-07:00

it's beginning. the last minute details, the butterflies in my belly, the wondering if i've lost my mind, again. i mean, really, leaving bozeman now? just as summer has begun? surely better decisions have been made. how does one just walk away from these blooming lilacs and one of a kind rocky mountain sunsets, the ireland-green foothills flanking the still snow covered peaks and the sun-tanned, happy wonderful folks of my community?

well, i guess africa just holds that kind of power, now doesn't it?