I have found a little jewel which I had forgotten all about. A group email which pre-dated blogging about my trip to Darwin in 2003. It is quite telling the style in which I wrote it. It also reminds me of a different me, a different time and a different life I was leading. Very nostalgic. Well, here goes, enjoy.
Yesterday, I woke up at 4 am to board a plane from Darwin to Brisbane, after having spent most of the night carousing and driving my friend Sean to the same airport. what you may ask was I doing in Darwin? Sean had this bright idea a few months ago: he wanted to go for a short break to Darwin. I thought it a brilliant idea and when some of my workmates ran into the office one day spouting some nonsense about going clubbing in Sydney because Virgin was having a seat sale, I jumped on the internet and checked it out. It was a liquidation of seats to all sorts of destinations, one of which was Darwin for the bargain price of $100 each way. So Seany and I got our heads together and booked. Unfortunately, I was a bit slow, and had to book the return journey with Qantas, which resulted in me being a casualty of Qantas' recent cutdown on flights. Instead of flying back with Seany at 1 am with Virgin, or at least checking in at the same time as him, I ended up driving him to the airport at midnight and then flying out at 6 am the same morning. Madness, I tell you. This also had the unfortunate consequence of missing out on the Virgin tarmac boys.
What's so hot about pit crew you ask? Normally, they're these chunky blokes in stubbies and dirty socks, hairy backs and body odour, but we're talking Virgin Blue here, so cool you freeze a side of beef on it. As Seany and I were boarding our Virgin Blue plane to Darwin, via the tarmac [very retro], we were greeted by three drop dead gorgeous Greek gods in tight shorts, hiking boots and hi-vi vests with killer smiles. Virgin may not provide on-flight entertainment, but it certainly does it pre-flight.
Even the head steward looked like a poster boy straight out of Wallpaper, platinum blond hair, golden skin, dressed in the new Virgin uniform: fitted white shirt and hipster tan trousers. The other flight attendants were similarly colour coordinated, but in female versions. It was only when I was on the return flight to Brisbane that I was able to compare Qantas' weedy stewards and their tarmac blokes, as well as the standard of service. Despite having to pay for your meal on Virgin, the service was a lot quicker and smoother.
But enough of Virgin and upwards and onwards to Darwin. Why Darwin? Because neither of us had been there before. Because it's a very remote place about which we didn't know much. Because it was going to be in the middle of winter, when Darwin is at its best, dry, warm and lovely.
When we landed at midnight into a 1970ps timewarp by the name of Darwin Airport, with shades of Queensland in the late 80s. We were surrounded by blokes in cowboy hats, Blundstones and heavy jackets, in a very balmy 26 degrees. Half of the crowd sported beards so bushy Bin Laden would have been proud to recruit them. The other half were obviously backpackers on their way to or out of Darwin. The arrivals hall was also the departure lounge and the onsite pub was packed. All the shops in the airport were open. At midnight! In the Northern Territory! That was the only indication that we were in 2003.
The feeling of deja vu only intensified as we drove through the suburbs and into the centre. Most buildings were of the low rise, concrete block variety, except for the odd specimen from the turn of this millenium, jutting out from the average. This impression, however, was corrected the next morning, when we took a walk around Centennial Park, and the city centre. Parliament House was a beautiful example of good angular and geometrical 70's architecture.
Thursday, July 03, 2014
Tuesday, July 01, 2014
The Horrors of a Liberal Party Budget
Where do I begin? This is no rant. This is just a considered musing on the nature of budget cuts when the cuts themselves don't balance out.
Let's look at something near and dear to the Australian heart: mining.
This is how the ABC has summarised the government's stance on mining for 2014:
The Abbott government will provide $100 million over four years to explore mining as a tax offset. That means $100 million taken from somewhere else in the budget, like for example: the Family Tax Benefit, which amounted to $50 million.
So families will have to live under greater hardship so companies which aren't making money yet from mineral exploration in lands that actually belong to indigenous australians can see if it is possible to find minerals. Is this risk management? Why are we being sacrificed on the altar of corporate interests?
Next the fuel excise. Why are we giving companies a break on the fuel excise? They already have tax deductions on the use of fuel because it's a running cost of the company. They don't need further tax breaks so they can make more money, while the Aussie battler on the street has to pay fuel excise. This makes no sense.
Then comes the abolition of the Mineral Resources Rent Tax which amounts to $3.4 billion. Now, if we look at our tax dollars in the past, 47% of government revenue comes from individual income tax and 22.6% from company and resource taxation. So already we were the heavy lifters in terms of revenue. Not conglomerates that make billions a year and should by rights contribute a percentage of their profits to the country they profit from.
Can you see where I'm heading? Mr Abbot and his minions are fleecing off while they give their mates like Gina Rinehart a break.
Let's look at something near and dear to the Australian heart: mining.
This is how the ABC has summarised the government's stance on mining for 2014:
- The Government will provide $100 million over four years for minerals exploration, by giving small explorers not making any taxable income access to a refundable tax offset for their Australian shareholders.
- The Government has spared mining an increase in the diesel fuel excise. Currently commercial vehicles used in mining and agriculture get a rebate on the diesel fuel excise that drops it to six cents per litre. Before the budget there had been calls to raise this in line with the petrol fuel excise.
- The budget also outlines $3.4 billion over the next three years from the abolition of the Minerals Resource Rent Tax.
The Abbott government will provide $100 million over four years to explore mining as a tax offset. That means $100 million taken from somewhere else in the budget, like for example: the Family Tax Benefit, which amounted to $50 million.
So families will have to live under greater hardship so companies which aren't making money yet from mineral exploration in lands that actually belong to indigenous australians can see if it is possible to find minerals. Is this risk management? Why are we being sacrificed on the altar of corporate interests?
Next the fuel excise. Why are we giving companies a break on the fuel excise? They already have tax deductions on the use of fuel because it's a running cost of the company. They don't need further tax breaks so they can make more money, while the Aussie battler on the street has to pay fuel excise. This makes no sense.
Then comes the abolition of the Mineral Resources Rent Tax which amounts to $3.4 billion. Now, if we look at our tax dollars in the past, 47% of government revenue comes from individual income tax and 22.6% from company and resource taxation. So already we were the heavy lifters in terms of revenue. Not conglomerates that make billions a year and should by rights contribute a percentage of their profits to the country they profit from.
Can you see where I'm heading? Mr Abbot and his minions are fleecing off while they give their mates like Gina Rinehart a break.
Monday, June 30, 2014
Back online
I know it's been a while and many of you may not even realise I'm back, on the blogspot domain. Long story short, domain expired, changed hands, changed host and now I'm in the middle of organising to bring the .net domain back online.
So there you have it. It's been silent for a long while.
I shall bring you back up to date. It's been 15 months of being offline. Too long if you ask me.
My life post March 2013 has consisted of getting the love of my life over from Belgium to Australia.
Tom and I met in Guatemala in 2012 and both our worlds and our plans for the future changed at that point.
Tom decided not to move to Colombia and Bolivia to stay with me and get involved in an adventure that would see both of us risk life and limb every two weeks to stay together. This cemented a bond that became unbreakable, even after the stresses of moving to Mexico and not finding any work there for either of us, or Tom coming to Australia and struggling to find work in a depressed job market in the first five months of being here.
I set aside my dream of doing yoga teacher training in Santa Monica on a scholarship with a yoga studio in Los Angeles and returned to Brisbane to pay off debts, work on Tom's student visa and organise a place to live.
It's now July 2014 and things are very different. We are living together and have learned how to function as a team in a different environment and embracing different values. Our priorities have changed but our dreams have not.
So while Tom has found his niche working for two Germans who value his hard work and ethics, I've started yoga teacher training. I am now halfway through the training with 6 months remaining and I really am excited. By the end of the year, I will be able to start changing my life again in the direction I wanted to go all along.
It's funny, coz my friend Yusuke just went through his own journey. It's been difficult he says but won't elaborate. I think I know what he means. He moved to Berlin to dedicate himself 100% to his music. And he did it. He focused on improving as a musician. And he's come back very different from the man who left. He has learned how to be in a relationship. He has learned how to focus on where he wants to be. He has learned to not waste time or energy on things he doesn't want to do. He's shown me that what I used to know still applies. Do only what you WANT to do. No compromises, no mediocrity.
And so, my journey begins again. This time to return to Central America on a project I actually want to be a part of. There is so much there to choose from but nothing concrete yet. I am also waiting to hear on a scholarship to China, to learn mandarin. We find out at the end of July whether we're moving to China in January or staying in Australia or getting ready to leave for the Americas again. Stay tuned.
So there you have it. It's been silent for a long while.
I shall bring you back up to date. It's been 15 months of being offline. Too long if you ask me.
My life post March 2013 has consisted of getting the love of my life over from Belgium to Australia.
Tom and I met in Guatemala in 2012 and both our worlds and our plans for the future changed at that point.
Tom decided not to move to Colombia and Bolivia to stay with me and get involved in an adventure that would see both of us risk life and limb every two weeks to stay together. This cemented a bond that became unbreakable, even after the stresses of moving to Mexico and not finding any work there for either of us, or Tom coming to Australia and struggling to find work in a depressed job market in the first five months of being here.
I set aside my dream of doing yoga teacher training in Santa Monica on a scholarship with a yoga studio in Los Angeles and returned to Brisbane to pay off debts, work on Tom's student visa and organise a place to live.
It's now July 2014 and things are very different. We are living together and have learned how to function as a team in a different environment and embracing different values. Our priorities have changed but our dreams have not.
So while Tom has found his niche working for two Germans who value his hard work and ethics, I've started yoga teacher training. I am now halfway through the training with 6 months remaining and I really am excited. By the end of the year, I will be able to start changing my life again in the direction I wanted to go all along.
It's funny, coz my friend Yusuke just went through his own journey. It's been difficult he says but won't elaborate. I think I know what he means. He moved to Berlin to dedicate himself 100% to his music. And he did it. He focused on improving as a musician. And he's come back very different from the man who left. He has learned how to be in a relationship. He has learned how to focus on where he wants to be. He has learned to not waste time or energy on things he doesn't want to do. He's shown me that what I used to know still applies. Do only what you WANT to do. No compromises, no mediocrity.
And so, my journey begins again. This time to return to Central America on a project I actually want to be a part of. There is so much there to choose from but nothing concrete yet. I am also waiting to hear on a scholarship to China, to learn mandarin. We find out at the end of July whether we're moving to China in January or staying in Australia or getting ready to leave for the Americas again. Stay tuned.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Storify Timeline on Guatemalan Issues I discovered while living there.
http://www.lostiempos.com/diario/actualidad/internacional/20130406/perez-molina-rechaza-acusacion-por-genocidio_208321_446639.html
If you click on the link above my curated story about the Guatemalan issues surrounding the genocide trial appear. I am trying out Storify, a new platform for social media, curating the news. I will be trying to combine it with Joining the Dots, a kind of infographic style timeline that organizes stories by context, setting, time and theme.
I am being slightly short in this post, just because I want to see how many of you like that interface. I will still be posting here, but not in the same way as before.
Enjoy.
If you click on the link above my curated story about the Guatemalan issues surrounding the genocide trial appear. I am trying out Storify, a new platform for social media, curating the news. I will be trying to combine it with Joining the Dots, a kind of infographic style timeline that organizes stories by context, setting, time and theme.
I am being slightly short in this post, just because I want to see how many of you like that interface. I will still be posting here, but not in the same way as before.
Enjoy.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Update on Xela
Wow... it has been so long since I posted. I am no longer sure where to start.
After the whole of January, life became a bit of a blur. I had to prepare a bunch of schedules for my bosses from ArtCorps, who scored the gig with Cultural Survival for me and set out a project plan. That was painful, but I got through it.
It all started out really well, but soon the 14 kids who started out with me learning video production began to slack off. It was all great until they had to start learning how to edit, and they began to object to learning "theory" as they called the main tenets of editing, not realising that I was teaching them settings on the computer that they needed to understand and also the basics of pixel resolution, light in video and how to colour correct, as well as how the timeline on a sequence works. Basics. Nothing more. But 10 of them wanted to play with the cameras and not necessarily create a story with what they had filmed on video. They wanted to see themselves on video and on the camera viewfinder. Not even on a computer screen. It was a bit of teen psychology I was not aware of before.
So here we are, almost at the end of my time here, finishing off two of five videos, starting the third one and organising four and five. Yet, our second video is going to a surprise to the organisation, because it is so long and so information heavy that we are going to have to divide it into 3 videos. I will be giving them more than they bargained for and end up with hopefully two highly trained students. Yes, 2. Not 4. These 2 are the die hards, the committed, the really talented, who stuck through the rainy season, no money to get on the bus, the shutdown of the radio station they volunteer for during 2 months, and recently, the raid on their radio station by the Guatemalan police.
All of these are important things I wish to touch on relating to my learning experiences here, but this is just a tidbit of what is to come.
After the whole of January, life became a bit of a blur. I had to prepare a bunch of schedules for my bosses from ArtCorps, who scored the gig with Cultural Survival for me and set out a project plan. That was painful, but I got through it.
It all started out really well, but soon the 14 kids who started out with me learning video production began to slack off. It was all great until they had to start learning how to edit, and they began to object to learning "theory" as they called the main tenets of editing, not realising that I was teaching them settings on the computer that they needed to understand and also the basics of pixel resolution, light in video and how to colour correct, as well as how the timeline on a sequence works. Basics. Nothing more. But 10 of them wanted to play with the cameras and not necessarily create a story with what they had filmed on video. They wanted to see themselves on video and on the camera viewfinder. Not even on a computer screen. It was a bit of teen psychology I was not aware of before.
So here we are, almost at the end of my time here, finishing off two of five videos, starting the third one and organising four and five. Yet, our second video is going to a surprise to the organisation, because it is so long and so information heavy that we are going to have to divide it into 3 videos. I will be giving them more than they bargained for and end up with hopefully two highly trained students. Yes, 2. Not 4. These 2 are the die hards, the committed, the really talented, who stuck through the rainy season, no money to get on the bus, the shutdown of the radio station they volunteer for during 2 months, and recently, the raid on their radio station by the Guatemalan police.
All of these are important things I wish to touch on relating to my learning experiences here, but this is just a tidbit of what is to come.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Immigration Timeout
Yep, let's take some time out to talk about this. Especially for those of you who are thinking of coming to Central America for a volunteering period or an artistic residency.
If you are not a Central American citizen, from what is called the CA-4 space, you have to leave the region every 3 months. This means that on entering any one of the four countries comprising CA-4 space (remember the Schengen space in Europe), you have 90 days to leave that space, not just that country.
So far so good. The problem is that the nearest borders depend on where you are. I am currently in Xela, which has a border close by with Mexico. However, Mexico requires you on your first visit inbound, to say 4 days before you return to CA-4 space via the border with Guatemala. Afterwards, you can easily go in and out in 24 hours.
This I discovered to my detriment, on an odyssey that took all day. I went to Tecun Uman with the intention of crossing the border to Ciudad Hidalgo about two weeks ago. I was spectacularly unsuccesful. I wanted to exit as an Australian citizen from Guatemala, and go in and out of Mexico the same way, but re-enter Guatemala with my DUI. I failed. For many reasons.
What is a DUI you may ask? It is the Salvadorean identity card, which I obtained in December last year, just for this purpose. Whaddya mean, I hear you wonder. Well... this is the deal: El Salvador is part of the CA-4 space. As a citizen of a member country of the CA-4 space, I have 90 days in each country, separately, not collectively. This gives me a bit of leeway in the space, which means that instead of having 90 days in Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador and Nicaragua, I have 90 days in Guatemala full stop. I also have 90 days in Honduras, full stop. And 90 days in Nicaragua, full stop. Plus, no need to show a passport, only the DUI. So far so good.
Well, that was not the case on the Mexican border, even though, legally I should be allowed to enter Guatemala as a salvadorean with my DUI from any border. I am not sure if I was told a barefaced lie by the people who usually do the transaction at the border or not. These were not immigration officials. They were guys who do this for money. So maybe they just wanted money out of me. This little joke cost me a whole day's journey to Tecun Uman, plus the bus fares to get there, the tuk-tuk fare from the bus terminal to the border and back and the return bus fares to Xela. It was crazy. It was also highly uncomfortable. Which was why I decided to regularise my status ASAP.
You want to know how I did that. Easy. Not. Back in March 2012 I queued up to get my passport issued. The salvadorean one. Little did I know. This turned into another Ulyssian effort. The passport office told me my DUI only had one last name. This was unacceptable to them because on the database my last passport showed up as having two last names. Paternal and maternal.
For the uninitiated to Latin American names, all of us carry our paternal and maternal last names with us legally and pass on our paternal names to our children. Ad nauseam. Ad infinitum. So, usually, a document of identity with only one last name is deemed incomplete.
So the passport office sent me to the DUI Centro to change my DUI. They were huffy about it and sent me to the equivalent of the Attorney General's Department to get my name changed legally with a Statutory Declaration.
When I got there, they told me that was the wrong thing to do and sent me to another government office: the Register for Natural Persons. They gave me other advice and told me that they could give me a statutory declaration that I didn't need a name change and that I could elect to use both my parents' names on my DUI. You would think this would be a same day thing. Uh, uh. No way.
They told me to ring in a week to see if the document was ready. I did. Nobody answered. I rang the following week and finally, the guy who was delegated to draft the document answered. He told me he needed a week or two to look at my file and draft the document, so I told him I would come and see him before Easter. I did. The guy still had not drafted anything coz he needed to discuss it in person. Argh!
So, when we met up in person he gave me two options:
(a) keep my documents all with two last names and get my DUI modified through an authorisation issued by his office; or
(b) get my birth certificate modified and have everything with one last name.
I decided to take option (a). I was leaving for Honduras the same day, so I had to pick up the authorisation the Tuesday after Easter.
Finally, I picked up the document, went with it to the DUI Centro and queued up for 2 hours until they finally gave me what I wanted: my modified DUI with two last names. I then headed off to the passport office, where I had to wait for 4 and a half hours before I could get my passport issued. But I got it. Finally. Now, I don't have to worry about my immigration woes anymore...Until the next 90 days are up.
If you are not a Central American citizen, from what is called the CA-4 space, you have to leave the region every 3 months. This means that on entering any one of the four countries comprising CA-4 space (remember the Schengen space in Europe), you have 90 days to leave that space, not just that country.
So far so good. The problem is that the nearest borders depend on where you are. I am currently in Xela, which has a border close by with Mexico. However, Mexico requires you on your first visit inbound, to say 4 days before you return to CA-4 space via the border with Guatemala. Afterwards, you can easily go in and out in 24 hours.
This I discovered to my detriment, on an odyssey that took all day. I went to Tecun Uman with the intention of crossing the border to Ciudad Hidalgo about two weeks ago. I was spectacularly unsuccesful. I wanted to exit as an Australian citizen from Guatemala, and go in and out of Mexico the same way, but re-enter Guatemala with my DUI. I failed. For many reasons.
What is a DUI you may ask? It is the Salvadorean identity card, which I obtained in December last year, just for this purpose. Whaddya mean, I hear you wonder. Well... this is the deal: El Salvador is part of the CA-4 space. As a citizen of a member country of the CA-4 space, I have 90 days in each country, separately, not collectively. This gives me a bit of leeway in the space, which means that instead of having 90 days in Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador and Nicaragua, I have 90 days in Guatemala full stop. I also have 90 days in Honduras, full stop. And 90 days in Nicaragua, full stop. Plus, no need to show a passport, only the DUI. So far so good.
Well, that was not the case on the Mexican border, even though, legally I should be allowed to enter Guatemala as a salvadorean with my DUI from any border. I am not sure if I was told a barefaced lie by the people who usually do the transaction at the border or not. These were not immigration officials. They were guys who do this for money. So maybe they just wanted money out of me. This little joke cost me a whole day's journey to Tecun Uman, plus the bus fares to get there, the tuk-tuk fare from the bus terminal to the border and back and the return bus fares to Xela. It was crazy. It was also highly uncomfortable. Which was why I decided to regularise my status ASAP.
You want to know how I did that. Easy. Not. Back in March 2012 I queued up to get my passport issued. The salvadorean one. Little did I know. This turned into another Ulyssian effort. The passport office told me my DUI only had one last name. This was unacceptable to them because on the database my last passport showed up as having two last names. Paternal and maternal.
For the uninitiated to Latin American names, all of us carry our paternal and maternal last names with us legally and pass on our paternal names to our children. Ad nauseam. Ad infinitum. So, usually, a document of identity with only one last name is deemed incomplete.
So the passport office sent me to the DUI Centro to change my DUI. They were huffy about it and sent me to the equivalent of the Attorney General's Department to get my name changed legally with a Statutory Declaration.
When I got there, they told me that was the wrong thing to do and sent me to another government office: the Register for Natural Persons. They gave me other advice and told me that they could give me a statutory declaration that I didn't need a name change and that I could elect to use both my parents' names on my DUI. You would think this would be a same day thing. Uh, uh. No way.
They told me to ring in a week to see if the document was ready. I did. Nobody answered. I rang the following week and finally, the guy who was delegated to draft the document answered. He told me he needed a week or two to look at my file and draft the document, so I told him I would come and see him before Easter. I did. The guy still had not drafted anything coz he needed to discuss it in person. Argh!
So, when we met up in person he gave me two options:
(a) keep my documents all with two last names and get my DUI modified through an authorisation issued by his office; or
(b) get my birth certificate modified and have everything with one last name.
I decided to take option (a). I was leaving for Honduras the same day, so I had to pick up the authorisation the Tuesday after Easter.
Finally, I picked up the document, went with it to the DUI Centro and queued up for 2 hours until they finally gave me what I wanted: my modified DUI with two last names. I then headed off to the passport office, where I had to wait for 4 and a half hours before I could get my passport issued. But I got it. Finally. Now, I don't have to worry about my immigration woes anymore...Until the next 90 days are up.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Day 4 at the Theatre of the Oppressed Festival
The posts are getting shorter, I know, but I am trying to make good my promise to Ana Braconnier (one of the organisers of the festival) before the year gets under way and while all the attendees are still reading the Festival blog.
I will just cover the warm up games, coz really, at this stage the workshop consisted of honing the piece of theatre we were preparing to perform in front our fellow workshoppers:
I will just cover the warm up games, coz really, at this stage the workshop consisted of honing the piece of theatre we were preparing to perform in front our fellow workshoppers:
- We pretended to try and catch a fly, passing it on to the person next to us, going round and round in a circle.
- We did a collective primal scream.
- The first person in the circle clapped and passed on the clap to the person next to their neighbour, while their neighbour crouched, the neighbour would then stand up and pass the clap on the person after their neighbour, and so on.
- We also created a tight little circle and bent our knees deeply, trying to sit on each other's laps.
- We ended the workshop by giving each other massages in pairs and in threes. Our facilitators called these massages washing machines, because we were meant to give massages resembling an automatic car washing machine. We scrubbed and pounded each muscle until they were completely relaxed.
Day 3 at the Theatre of the Oppressed Festival - delayed report
I'll keep this short and sweet. Our workshop on the third day consisted of debriefing initially about the play 3000 Mujeres, from the day before. We then warmed up to our workshop by checking in with a sound and a movement (that ring a bell to anyone doing Playback Theatre or Applied Theatre?)
The next game was fast paced: the leader would start off saying yes to the person next to them and that person would have to reply Yes. If the person wanted to move the sequence in the opposite order, they would have to say No. This would then be repeated ad infinitum in the circle of performers.
Then came mirroring, which is quite a standard physical theatre exercise in my experience. You basically mirror the action your partner makes. If they place their hand on your shoulder you place yours on theirs. The workshop facilitators added a twist: they called out the actions and we had to do them, no matter how ridiculous. At one point, they had us touching bum to bum, hand to shoulder, shoulder to shoulder, nose to nose. It got REALLY intimate.
The inevitable next step was to get into rehearsals and analysis of the piece of theatre we were developing. Olivar and Luiz, our facilitators from the Rio de Janeiro Centre for Theatre of the Oppressed, gave us feedback on the character portrayal, the dramaturgy, even our set design. After the feedback session, we dispersed off to lunch with 500 other participants, in the largest mess hall I've seen in a looong time.
In the afternoon, I dropped in to see Alas de Mariposa (Butterfly Wings) by Nicaraguan Theatre of the Oppressed outfit Ventana. They performed the story of Lucero, a blind girl who is eager to go to her new school, but due to misconceptions and discrimination against blind people in her school, is turned away at the door. The interventions all seemed to center around the same moment: when Lucero meets the school headmistress. It is at this crucial turning point that Lucero can enforce her rights in the new Nicaragua.
Although the actors wore the subtext on their sleeve, the acting was fresh, authentic and believable. Despite the large amount of exposition, and the abundance of dialogue, it was very touching and Lucero's character was well established. It was a very satisfying performance.
That evening's performance was Detras del Cuadro (Behind the Frame). It is the story of a single mother living with her mother who keeps her lesbian partner a secret until the day that her five year old daughter requests her mother invite her partner to her birthday party. After much to-ing and fro-ing, she does so. She tries to warn her mother that she is inviting her partner to the party, only to find that her mother assumes it is a man. When confronted by the same sex relationship, her mother throws her partner out of the house and threatens to take away her granddaughter from her daughter because of her "immorality". This brought on a plethora of responses, including one clueless guy who was trying to explain to the daugther that the single mother's friend was actually her partner.
The next game was fast paced: the leader would start off saying yes to the person next to them and that person would have to reply Yes. If the person wanted to move the sequence in the opposite order, they would have to say No. This would then be repeated ad infinitum in the circle of performers.
Then came mirroring, which is quite a standard physical theatre exercise in my experience. You basically mirror the action your partner makes. If they place their hand on your shoulder you place yours on theirs. The workshop facilitators added a twist: they called out the actions and we had to do them, no matter how ridiculous. At one point, they had us touching bum to bum, hand to shoulder, shoulder to shoulder, nose to nose. It got REALLY intimate.
The inevitable next step was to get into rehearsals and analysis of the piece of theatre we were developing. Olivar and Luiz, our facilitators from the Rio de Janeiro Centre for Theatre of the Oppressed, gave us feedback on the character portrayal, the dramaturgy, even our set design. After the feedback session, we dispersed off to lunch with 500 other participants, in the largest mess hall I've seen in a looong time.
In the afternoon, I dropped in to see Alas de Mariposa (Butterfly Wings) by Nicaraguan Theatre of the Oppressed outfit Ventana. They performed the story of Lucero, a blind girl who is eager to go to her new school, but due to misconceptions and discrimination against blind people in her school, is turned away at the door. The interventions all seemed to center around the same moment: when Lucero meets the school headmistress. It is at this crucial turning point that Lucero can enforce her rights in the new Nicaragua.
Although the actors wore the subtext on their sleeve, the acting was fresh, authentic and believable. Despite the large amount of exposition, and the abundance of dialogue, it was very touching and Lucero's character was well established. It was a very satisfying performance.
That evening's performance was Detras del Cuadro (Behind the Frame). It is the story of a single mother living with her mother who keeps her lesbian partner a secret until the day that her five year old daughter requests her mother invite her partner to her birthday party. After much to-ing and fro-ing, she does so. She tries to warn her mother that she is inviting her partner to the party, only to find that her mother assumes it is a man. When confronted by the same sex relationship, her mother throws her partner out of the house and threatens to take away her granddaughter from her daughter because of her "immorality". This brought on a plethora of responses, including one clueless guy who was trying to explain to the daugther that the single mother's friend was actually her partner.
More about Day 2 of the Theatre of the Oppressed Festival
I have an apology to make. To those amazingly wonderful people who gave up their time, blood and sweat (as well as sleep) to organise the 2nd Latin American Theatre of the Oppressed Festival. I should have been writing all along but it just got way too intense to keep up. And I wasn't even partaking of the parties every night, like the peeps who had bussed it from Costa Rica, Honduras, Chiapas and so forth. They were all bunking down at the venue, which happens to be a technical school. Drafty, cold, bare bones. The bathrooms were beyond basic. In fact, the members of Escenica X from El Salvador were working wonders taking cold showers in the freezing Xela weather in January.
Missed telling youse all about the Colombian play Viento Nocturno (Night-time Wind) as well. Here goes: a one man play, the protagonist is a 14 year old growing up in 1980's Colombia with two left-wing brothers. His hero is Che Guevara. He even writes a letter to Cuba, signing himself as a revolutionary. It is his only infraction. In the Cold War climate of Latin America which made McCarthyism look benevolent, the slightest whiff of communist leanings could turn ugly. We're not talking defamatory or even discriminatory here. We are talking full torture. Solitary confinement. Bullet to the head territory. The performer is at once the torturer, the tortured, the troops taking the kids away to a School of the Americas torture chamber and the survivor coming out the other end. It is a gruelling play to watch. Perfect example of Theatre of the Oppressed. Except that there is no forum. There is no way that you can actually change what happened. Colombia in the 80's was every bit as scary as Central America. The Cold War had frozen any chance at real democracy, human rights and diverging points of view in the Americas.
As a performance, it started off well, with symbolism used quite heavily, but the portrayal relied heavily on narration. The overt amount of exposition detracted heavily from the powerful topic it was touching on. Lighting design was superb. It did away with any need for stage design. Using gels, filters and even strobing lights, the audience absorbed the moods ranging from fear, horror, violence to relief. Sadly, the subtext was on the surface, something I am beginning to observe happens a lot in theatre here in Central America. I like my subtext just the way it's supposed to be, under the surface, not coated so thickly on it, you could mistake it for Vegemite on your toast.
As a way of provoking discussion however, it was masterful. It is rather timely, as the discussion centered around torture used as way of inducing terror. There was a historical overview of how so many paramilitary groups in the Americas were schooled in torture as a means of striking fear into the populace by the School of the Americas.
It used part of Boal's method of Forum Theatre but diverged greatly from it, as there was no possible alternative you could use or find to rescue the oppressed in this case.
One thing I did admire was the warm up exercises the performer used to get the crowd involved:
This was proper Forum Theatre. There was a turning point in which Lorenza could have managed to avoid the trap. It was at this juncture that several interventions happened in the forum. Others tried to intervene at a later stage, through the police, which turned out to be a futile exercise.
The performances were subtle. Italia (the performer) was a convincing Lorenza: head over heels in love with this older guy who took her to exciting places and bought her nice things. By the time she has been inducted into the brothel it is way too late for her to get help. The only distraction was the set. It was covered in red with photographs stuck on it. It detracted from the performances themselves, which were coherent, had strong character development and maintained the suspension of disbelief right til the end. I would have given it four stars (in At The Movies parlance).
Missed telling youse all about the Colombian play Viento Nocturno (Night-time Wind) as well. Here goes: a one man play, the protagonist is a 14 year old growing up in 1980's Colombia with two left-wing brothers. His hero is Che Guevara. He even writes a letter to Cuba, signing himself as a revolutionary. It is his only infraction. In the Cold War climate of Latin America which made McCarthyism look benevolent, the slightest whiff of communist leanings could turn ugly. We're not talking defamatory or even discriminatory here. We are talking full torture. Solitary confinement. Bullet to the head territory. The performer is at once the torturer, the tortured, the troops taking the kids away to a School of the Americas torture chamber and the survivor coming out the other end. It is a gruelling play to watch. Perfect example of Theatre of the Oppressed. Except that there is no forum. There is no way that you can actually change what happened. Colombia in the 80's was every bit as scary as Central America. The Cold War had frozen any chance at real democracy, human rights and diverging points of view in the Americas.
As a performance, it started off well, with symbolism used quite heavily, but the portrayal relied heavily on narration. The overt amount of exposition detracted heavily from the powerful topic it was touching on. Lighting design was superb. It did away with any need for stage design. Using gels, filters and even strobing lights, the audience absorbed the moods ranging from fear, horror, violence to relief. Sadly, the subtext was on the surface, something I am beginning to observe happens a lot in theatre here in Central America. I like my subtext just the way it's supposed to be, under the surface, not coated so thickly on it, you could mistake it for Vegemite on your toast.
As a way of provoking discussion however, it was masterful. It is rather timely, as the discussion centered around torture used as way of inducing terror. There was a historical overview of how so many paramilitary groups in the Americas were schooled in torture as a means of striking fear into the populace by the School of the Americas.
It used part of Boal's method of Forum Theatre but diverged greatly from it, as there was no possible alternative you could use or find to rescue the oppressed in this case.
One thing I did admire was the warm up exercises the performer used to get the crowd involved:
- breathing exercises
- individual and group reactions to the scenes
- dancing together in total chaos
- creation of a tableau and its transformation character by character
- creating an ensemble from the audience where each person would join the tableau separately and add to the story on stage
- the use of ritual to dissolve emotions and celebrate catharsis
That same evening, I went to see the Mexican play 3000 Mujeres, about the human traffic that tricks young girls into prostitution. In Puebla alone, 3000 women disappeared in one year and the authorities did nothing about it. This play is about Lorenza, a 17 year old girl who hooks up with a human trafficker unwittingly. Her friends are suspicious of the new boyfriend, but by the time they realise that this aloof, macho guy who showers her with dubious gifts and takes her clubbing is not what he appears to be, Lorenza is deeply ensconced in some two bit brothel.
This was proper Forum Theatre. There was a turning point in which Lorenza could have managed to avoid the trap. It was at this juncture that several interventions happened in the forum. Others tried to intervene at a later stage, through the police, which turned out to be a futile exercise.
The performances were subtle. Italia (the performer) was a convincing Lorenza: head over heels in love with this older guy who took her to exciting places and bought her nice things. By the time she has been inducted into the brothel it is way too late for her to get help. The only distraction was the set. It was covered in red with photographs stuck on it. It detracted from the performances themselves, which were coherent, had strong character development and maintained the suspension of disbelief right til the end. I would have given it four stars (in At The Movies parlance).
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