L'une des choses plus frappantes depuis mon arrive en Namibie est la découverte qu'il existe un marche des parties du corps humain. Premièrement, j’ai entendu de mes collègues qu’il est tellement dangereux de marcher tout seul dans les espaces vertes et sauvages comme près d’une rivière. D’abord j’ai pensé qu’on se met au péril en raison des animaux qui y habitent, comme des serpents. Par contre, j’ai compris que le vrai danger est celui des hommes qui tue des gens pour leur déchirer les génitales. Quelle horreur ! Ma collègue Violet nous a raconté comment sa mère échapper aux hommes qui s’approchaient d’elle dans les herbes. La mère a appelé son mari pour faire l’impression qu’il n’était pas loin d’elle et par conséquence, les hommes sont fuit.
Deuxième événement frappant été l’apparition dans un journal hebdomadaire namibien un article sur un corps qui a été récemment retrouvé à nord-est de la Namibie où ces abductions sont communes. Au corps manquait plusieurs doits, un pied, le cœur, les yeux et aussi les génitales. C’était un homme de vingt sept ans qui était une garde. Un groupe des gens est soupçonne de l’avoir tué est les suspects sont des citoyens Namibiens et Zambiens, car ce marché est évidement transnational – la ville où sa se passe est près de la frontière zambienne.
Que puis-je fais ? Je suis tellement ému, négativement, par toute cette histoire. Pourtant, pour les Namibiens qui vivent dans les régions touchées par ce marché atroce, cette une réalité ancienne de laquelle il faut se tenir compte pour survivre aux croyances en magie.
Je me disais « Ça n’a rien avoir avec ce qui m’intéresse, l’épidémiologie et l’anthropologie, mais pourquoi suis-je si fortement pértubé ? » Sono rimasto malissimo a causa di questa storia sordida.
En effet, il y a un lien avec la santé publique vue que les gens qui sont victimes de ce marche sont morts. En plus, quelle est la relation entre la magie africaine qui présume l’importance des parties humaines dans la vie quotidienne et les traitements pour un très nombre des maladies qui sont fait des herbes et légumes traditionnelles ? Autrement dit, est-ce que l’attitude vers la superstition et le fétichisme une analogue de la crédulité en la « médicine » traditionnelle ? Sont-elles deux attitudes dans un continuum des connaissances ou sont-elles complètement singulières ?
Il y a quelques jours, un professeur de l’Université de Namibie a publié un article sur son étude des traitements traditionnels pour les symptômes du SIDA, lesquels les docteurs traditionnels tentent à guérir. Tant au rôle que ces traitements pourraient jouer en Namibie, il espère de exploiter leurs potentiel comme drogues antirétrovirales, en dépit le fait qu’il y a pas encore des preuves scientifique pour attester l’efficacité des traitements. Je vais me servir des documents sur sa recherche qu’il m’a gracieusement fournis.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
More titbits
What is the life a Princeton University alumn? Is it a constant frustration over what happened at the GRE, that I did not writethat amaizing essay, worth the maximum score - '6', like the Bulgarian system? I failed. The exam I passed for sure, but definatelynot with the grade I desired or expected.
Well what did I expect? I did not even do the five other essay questions I devised for myself,I just abondoned them after I found the official ETS list of topics for the essay. Per quanto riguarda la matematica, l'epreuvedes Mathematiques est bien allee, malgre que j'aie pas repondu a toutes les questions. En effet, l'examen n'est pas mal passe, c'est que j'ai pu mieux faire. Nonostante tutti questi sentimenti di regretto ai quali non riesco a rinunciare, cel'ho datta!L'esame e finita, morta, non mi pervade piu la mente. Dio mio, aiutami a compiere la tua opera, nonostante il fatto che non sono adeguato, in gradodi farla addesso. Help me Lord, to complete your work, even though I am not worthy at the moment.
Pancho Mulongeni discusses what it means to be a Princeton University alumn. He begins by posing the question "What is the life a PrincetonUniversity alumn?". His reply to the question is frustration. Pancho recounts how did not perform well on the GRE exam, an exam that is require forgraduate school admission in the United States, as well as he expected to. He cites his inability to do all his prepertory essays as one of the causes.Pancho did not write on the five essay questions he thought up for himself, because he found a list of official ETS topics for the GRE.He grapples with legitimacy of topics of his own creation as a preparation for an exam. Does this feeling of legitimacy of the self extend to other areas of Pancho's life?Does he feel that he needs to live according to the hegemonic perception of a Princeton University alumn, rather than a path of his own design. Pancho regards his failure to do all of histopics as weakness and one of the reason for not attaing the maximum 6 for his essay.
It is important to note that though Pancho claims he did not attain the maximum score, he does not know the results of his exam. Hence, this underlies a pessimism and desperation provoked by him not being satisfied with his performance.Why is he so distressed we might ask? What is at stake in him performing poorly on this exam? His identity as a scholar is probably dependent on him being accepted a top of the line research Universiy.His ability to study and do well on the GRE was likely a means to re-enter the local world of academia, where a number of his peers have gone on to study.The value placed in GRE might be connected to the popular belief that Universities recruit students with the highest scores.
Notwithstanding the overbearing pressure to perform excellently on the GRE, Pancho does not plan to do the exam. As he writes in French "L'examne n'est pa mal passe"he in French, Pancho acknoledges he did not perform poorly on the GRE. His expression, "c'e l'ho datta" is a conflation of the Italian expressions, 'c'e l'ho fatta' meaning I did it and "dare un esame", which meansto write an examination. Therefore, Pancho announces proudly that he is done with the exam, in spite of his regrets :" Nonstante tutti questi sentimenti di regretto..ce l'ho datta".His sudden change into Italian and French indicates his need to justify his reputation as a polygot, one who commands five languages.His unusual conflation of two different Italian phrases may suggest he is losing command of the language. However, it may also be a result of the free-indirect-discourse or stream of conciousness style in which he writes,in which thoughts are typed unedited. This is especially likely considering the title of his blog - Pancho's Brouillons - Pancho's random scribbles.
His ability to overcome mechanisms of regret that were probably inculcated in him during an early age will require a great deal of agency.(But something tells me Pancho is able to do it. The Lord will see him through) It is likely his Christian faith will provide a means for this agency.
Well what did I expect? I did not even do the five other essay questions I devised for myself,I just abondoned them after I found the official ETS list of topics for the essay. Per quanto riguarda la matematica, l'epreuvedes Mathematiques est bien allee, malgre que j'aie pas repondu a toutes les questions. En effet, l'examen n'est pas mal passe, c'est que j'ai pu mieux faire. Nonostante tutti questi sentimenti di regretto ai quali non riesco a rinunciare, cel'ho datta!L'esame e finita, morta, non mi pervade piu la mente. Dio mio, aiutami a compiere la tua opera, nonostante il fatto che non sono adeguato, in gradodi farla addesso. Help me Lord, to complete your work, even though I am not worthy at the moment.
Pancho Mulongeni discusses what it means to be a Princeton University alumn. He begins by posing the question "What is the life a PrincetonUniversity alumn?". His reply to the question is frustration. Pancho recounts how did not perform well on the GRE exam, an exam that is require forgraduate school admission in the United States, as well as he expected to. He cites his inability to do all his prepertory essays as one of the causes.Pancho did not write on the five essay questions he thought up for himself, because he found a list of official ETS topics for the GRE.He grapples with legitimacy of topics of his own creation as a preparation for an exam. Does this feeling of legitimacy of the self extend to other areas of Pancho's life?Does he feel that he needs to live according to the hegemonic perception of a Princeton University alumn, rather than a path of his own design. Pancho regards his failure to do all of histopics as weakness and one of the reason for not attaing the maximum 6 for his essay.
It is important to note that though Pancho claims he did not attain the maximum score, he does not know the results of his exam. Hence, this underlies a pessimism and desperation provoked by him not being satisfied with his performance.Why is he so distressed we might ask? What is at stake in him performing poorly on this exam? His identity as a scholar is probably dependent on him being accepted a top of the line research Universiy.His ability to study and do well on the GRE was likely a means to re-enter the local world of academia, where a number of his peers have gone on to study.The value placed in GRE might be connected to the popular belief that Universities recruit students with the highest scores.
Notwithstanding the overbearing pressure to perform excellently on the GRE, Pancho does not plan to do the exam. As he writes in French "L'examne n'est pa mal passe"he in French, Pancho acknoledges he did not perform poorly on the GRE. His expression, "c'e l'ho datta" is a conflation of the Italian expressions, 'c'e l'ho fatta' meaning I did it and "dare un esame", which meansto write an examination. Therefore, Pancho announces proudly that he is done with the exam, in spite of his regrets :" Nonstante tutti questi sentimenti di regretto..ce l'ho datta".His sudden change into Italian and French indicates his need to justify his reputation as a polygot, one who commands five languages.His unusual conflation of two different Italian phrases may suggest he is losing command of the language. However, it may also be a result of the free-indirect-discourse or stream of conciousness style in which he writes,in which thoughts are typed unedited. This is especially likely considering the title of his blog - Pancho's Brouillons - Pancho's random scribbles.
His ability to overcome mechanisms of regret that were probably inculcated in him during an early age will require a great deal of agency.(But something tells me Pancho is able to do it. The Lord will see him through)
Anthropological titbits
Anthropological titbits
A pharmacist inspecting the rash on the wrist of woman, across the counter, asking when the rash began and then she gives a cream, making sure the patient knows to complete the course even after the rash disappears “Keep putting it on for one more week, otherwise it will come again”. The pharmacist diagnoses and prescribes medication. She is at once a physician and a pharmacist, when confronted by patients who probably cannot afford to go and see a private “general practioner.” However, this pharmacist, a German Namibia lady, works at a private pharmacy in the centre of Windhoek, a far cry from the long queue of people waiting to receive their medication at the government health facility hospitals. Does her free time play a role in assenting to the clients request to become a patient of sorts? My friend from high school Mekonjo works at the pharmacy of the central hospital, which is a stones throw from my ‘computer cluster’ at the ministry of health. He says that “pharmacy is a dead end job”. To him there is nothing stimulating in this job. Probably his job does not require him to be both doctor and pharmacist, but would he like to do that?
What are the consequences for health care when private pharmacists play two roles, both doctor and pharmacist? Are they able to fill in the gap in between a full day’s wait to see a doctor at a state hospital and the expedient service at the physician consulting room? How different is the role they play from that of patients who go to a private physician to merely request a prescription for their auto-diagnosis? Are they just an extension of people’s desire to self-medicate? In the case I observed, the woman with the rash did not know what she needed to get, but the pharmacist did. Therefore, in a sense, the pharmacist is filling in the gap between private and public health institutions.
A pharmacist inspecting the rash on the wrist of woman, across the counter, asking when the rash began and then she gives a cream, making sure the patient knows to complete the course even after the rash disappears “Keep putting it on for one more week, otherwise it will come again”. The pharmacist diagnoses and prescribes medication. She is at once a physician and a pharmacist, when confronted by patients who probably cannot afford to go and see a private “general practioner.” However, this pharmacist, a German Namibia lady, works at a private pharmacy in the centre of Windhoek, a far cry from the long queue of people waiting to receive their medication at the government health facility hospitals. Does her free time play a role in assenting to the clients request to become a patient of sorts? My friend from high school Mekonjo works at the pharmacy of the central hospital, which is a stones throw from my ‘computer cluster’ at the ministry of health. He says that “pharmacy is a dead end job”. To him there is nothing stimulating in this job. Probably his job does not require him to be both doctor and pharmacist, but would he like to do that?
What are the consequences for health care when private pharmacists play two roles, both doctor and pharmacist? Are they able to fill in the gap in between a full day’s wait to see a doctor at a state hospital and the expedient service at the physician consulting room? How different is the role they play from that of patients who go to a private physician to merely request a prescription for their auto-diagnosis? Are they just an extension of people’s desire to self-medicate? In the case I observed, the woman with the rash did not know what she needed to get, but the pharmacist did. Therefore, in a sense, the pharmacist is filling in the gap between private and public health institutions.
Time spent searching
I spent so much searching for this file called "Activism", in the white drawer, whose back wall is comming away, under this very laptop, amongst all my papers and my brothers old notebooks, half filled or 17/19ths filled, that I use.
I need some tighter organisation. So especially since I finished studying for the GRE. It's over. Now I must find a new thing to do. And I have. I want to write about prisoners in Namibia, somehow I want to tie to what I am learning in my own studies of epidemiology and medical anthropology. Plus, I want to incorporate it into applying for a fullbright.
Perhaps I can use this space to list my aims, short term and long term.
Short term
The immediacy of Catholic Aids Action Project Happening on the 21st of November. It is a "Happening". I am hoping to involve students of the Holy Confirmation and the youth from Highlands and the Older Youth of St Boniface. However, will not the age disparity be to large between the various volunteers. We need not all go on the same day. So for now, let me work on the St. Boniface students and those of SMYL. I need to contact Melissa again, who is the organizer of the students at St. Mary's Cathedral.
Alright so now there are two disparate projects within the same realm. The first is to mobilize these teenagers at the two parishes, St Boniface and St Mary's. We will go Nov 21st.
Then the other will be the older youth of St Boniface (myself, Takudzwa, Yvonne, Brona, Barbara + others who show up) and the Sol Nascente group of St Marys + older people from SMYL (St Mary's Youth Leage).
- The other aim is to purchase books for my public health courses next year + get the books on Medical Anthropology and Molecular (Biology of Epidemiology) books, that will interest me.
- Then there is the aim to save a quarter a day. Saving one quarter namibian dollars (or Namibs as some people call them, US college interns in Namibia - interesting girls I met here). Just for everytime I log into my email, I must save one quarter. Eventually, I will save enough for something.
- Get a driving liscence before the end of the year
- I need to read the articles on Medical Anthropology and Medical anthropology. Well yes I am scatter brained somewhat.
- Read about the Fulbright.
Longterm Goals (before end of 2011):
- Apply to as many postgraduate fellowships and scholarships as possible - there is the fullbright for the US, the commonwealth for the UK and the Rhodes. For France, there should be something too. For Italy, is there? I would have to look that up (will I?).
- Start an Italian table at Studio 77
-Learn Oshiwambo
-Performance of my choreography - including work I did with Hennie.
Let me see which are most important. I have underlined short term, because it is the sum of shorterm goals that give one longterm one. So they are most important.
Now I need to choose three short term goals from my list, excluding the Catholic AIDS action. Devo scegliere tre scopi di quei sopra tranne quello della Azione Catolica contro l'AIDS.
I will choose them for this week:
- Reading for my driving liscence - every Mon Wed.
- Read the TB epidemiology article and Med Anthro
- Purchase your medical anthro books + find out about course books
I need some tighter organisation. So especially since I finished studying for the GRE. It's over. Now I must find a new thing to do. And I have. I want to write about prisoners in Namibia, somehow I want to tie to what I am learning in my own studies of epidemiology and medical anthropology. Plus, I want to incorporate it into applying for a fullbright.
Perhaps I can use this space to list my aims, short term and long term.
Short term
The immediacy of Catholic Aids Action Project Happening on the 21st of November. It is a "Happening". I am hoping to involve students of the Holy Confirmation and the youth from Highlands and the Older Youth of St Boniface. However, will not the age disparity be to large between the various volunteers. We need not all go on the same day. So for now, let me work on the St. Boniface students and those of SMYL. I need to contact Melissa again, who is the organizer of the students at St. Mary's Cathedral.
Alright so now there are two disparate projects within the same realm. The first is to mobilize these teenagers at the two parishes, St Boniface and St Mary's. We will go Nov 21st.
Then the other will be the older youth of St Boniface (myself, Takudzwa, Yvonne, Brona, Barbara + others who show up) and the Sol Nascente group of St Marys + older people from SMYL (St Mary's Youth Leage).
- The other aim is to purchase books for my public health courses next year + get the books on Medical Anthropology and Molecular (Biology of Epidemiology) books, that will interest me.
- Then there is the aim to save a quarter a day. Saving one quarter namibian dollars (or Namibs as some people call them, US college interns in Namibia - interesting girls I met here). Just for everytime I log into my email, I must save one quarter. Eventually, I will save enough for something.
- Get a driving liscence before the end of the year
- I need to read the articles on Medical Anthropology and Medical anthropology. Well yes I am scatter brained somewhat.
- Read about the Fulbright.
Longterm Goals (before end of 2011):
- Apply to as many postgraduate fellowships and scholarships as possible - there is the fullbright for the US, the commonwealth for the UK and the Rhodes. For France, there should be something too. For Italy, is there? I would have to look that up (will I?).
- Start an Italian table at Studio 77
-Learn Oshiwambo
-Performance of my choreography - including work I did with Hennie.
Let me see which are most important. I have underlined short term, because it is the sum of shorterm goals that give one longterm one. So they are most important.
Now I need to choose three short term goals from my list, excluding the Catholic AIDS action. Devo scegliere tre scopi di quei sopra tranne quello della Azione Catolica contro l'AIDS.
I will choose them for this week:
- Reading for my driving liscence - every Mon Wed.
- Read the TB epidemiology article and Med Anthro
- Purchase your medical anthro books + find out about course books
Loosing it
Even in my most sullied moments in a dingy place, Lord you are there.
Even whe I am struggling to struggle,
with what I have cut out for myself,
there is your prescence
Lord please giv me your ability to handle things.
Perhaps that request is too much, to make me a divine.
So what I do I want,
Ho voglia di fare quello che comandi, ma bisogna solo che mi organizzi meglio per affrontare
tutto
Even whe I am struggling to struggle,
with what I have cut out for myself,
there is your prescence
Lord please giv me your ability to handle things.
Perhaps that request is too much, to make me a divine.
So what I do I want,
Ho voglia di fare quello che comandi, ma bisogna solo che mi organizzi meglio per affrontare
tutto
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Chutney
I lost the chutney! Thursday I went shopping with the money my dad gave me after he dropped me off after work at the shop (I will refrain from using Americanism such as the grocery store, why should I assume I am writing for an American audience?) I bought chutney and other foodstuffs, only to find out today that the chutney is nowhere to be found. I searched high and low and I am sure it is not in my house. The chutney is gone and I never even tasted it. I wonder where that bottle filled with chunks of boiled peaches and sugar is? The famous Indian condiment, known as Mrs Balls Chutney is not part of our household. Never have I felt so bitter about losing a food item. Perhaps it is because I bought it, as part of the groceries I was supposed to by and by losing it I have be found to be irresponsible. But this fixation on chutney is not typical of me.
When I left Princeton, I left a world of material possessions behind me. Clothes, yoga mats, sleeping bags and even books were just given away. There was a catharsis of renewal that I experienced during those hours after graduation, whereby I forbade myself to hold on and care about the material. Now why am I so concerned about this chutney?
I should detach myself from the material and dedicate myself to worthy ends. The mobilization of the youth at my parish to volunteer is about to come to fruition when we go to a home for AIDS orphans called "Baby Haven" in a poor part of Windhoek next Saturday. Weeks of negotiations between myself, the students of the Holy confirmation and the teachers have allowed us to finally take action in our community. In addition, in November, the students in the first year Holy Confirmation are planning to go to Catholic AIDS Action, which is the project I have nurtured since early in the summer ( or fall in the US). Today I went for my meeting for the planned visit to Baby Haven so as to ensure the students are organized and inspired to volunteer next week. Logistics were planned and I encouraged them by speaking about how every fifth child in Namibia is an AIDS orphan, a dubious statistic that I learnt at Princeton during the day we wore our Orphan T-shirts. I was wearing mine as I spoke to the kids and told them about our campaign to sensitize the Princeton Campus about HIV. I am supposed to be African and so I am supposed to survive on little and understand that life is a struggle. On the other hand, I spoke to the students, all of whom are teenagers, as if I was an American volunteer, refering to them as "guys" and leaving my number and email in case they had any ideas about fun games for the event. Notwithstanding my American behavior, there were certain Namibian phrases such as "zula" which means "hustle" that I used to convey to them my message. I want them to raise funds to purchase gifts to the "Baby Haven", most of which will be in food.
Food is scrumptious and I had a full lunch before leaving to the Church, though it mean I was a few minutes late. Luckily for me, they were also late in starting. Nevertheless, why am I not dedicated enough to just run up and go to the Church, no matter what, whether I have eaten or not? What is the basis of my work? Is it pure motivation or do I need to be comfortable to effect my projects. I remember that Socrates in the Phaedo by Plato spoke about the meaning of life: He said that humans must strive to rid themselves of the slavery of the body's desires and thereby liberate the soul to contemplate knowledge, life, the universe and everthing (as Douglas Adams says). Somehow, I cannot achieve this state of the ascetic and live for holy, higher ends.
The reason that I am angry at myself is not because I lost the Chutneay. The truth is that I am searching for my role after graduation and I cannot seem to situate myself. I am caught between the need to work for the greater good and the desire to life a regular life of materialistic consumption. It is possible that is this tension between these poles of my existence that keeps me going.
When I left Princeton, I left a world of material possessions behind me. Clothes, yoga mats, sleeping bags and even books were just given away. There was a catharsis of renewal that I experienced during those hours after graduation, whereby I forbade myself to hold on and care about the material. Now why am I so concerned about this chutney?
I should detach myself from the material and dedicate myself to worthy ends. The mobilization of the youth at my parish to volunteer is about to come to fruition when we go to a home for AIDS orphans called "Baby Haven" in a poor part of Windhoek next Saturday. Weeks of negotiations between myself, the students of the Holy confirmation and the teachers have allowed us to finally take action in our community. In addition, in November, the students in the first year Holy Confirmation are planning to go to Catholic AIDS Action, which is the project I have nurtured since early in the summer ( or fall in the US). Today I went for my meeting for the planned visit to Baby Haven so as to ensure the students are organized and inspired to volunteer next week. Logistics were planned and I encouraged them by speaking about how every fifth child in Namibia is an AIDS orphan, a dubious statistic that I learnt at Princeton during the day we wore our Orphan T-shirts. I was wearing mine as I spoke to the kids and told them about our campaign to sensitize the Princeton Campus about HIV. I am supposed to be African and so I am supposed to survive on little and understand that life is a struggle. On the other hand, I spoke to the students, all of whom are teenagers, as if I was an American volunteer, refering to them as "guys" and leaving my number and email in case they had any ideas about fun games for the event. Notwithstanding my American behavior, there were certain Namibian phrases such as "zula" which means "hustle" that I used to convey to them my message. I want them to raise funds to purchase gifts to the "Baby Haven", most of which will be in food.
Food is scrumptious and I had a full lunch before leaving to the Church, though it mean I was a few minutes late. Luckily for me, they were also late in starting. Nevertheless, why am I not dedicated enough to just run up and go to the Church, no matter what, whether I have eaten or not? What is the basis of my work? Is it pure motivation or do I need to be comfortable to effect my projects. I remember that Socrates in the Phaedo by Plato spoke about the meaning of life: He said that humans must strive to rid themselves of the slavery of the body's desires and thereby liberate the soul to contemplate knowledge, life, the universe and everthing (as Douglas Adams says). Somehow, I cannot achieve this state of the ascetic and live for holy, higher ends.
The reason that I am angry at myself is not because I lost the Chutneay. The truth is that I am searching for my role after graduation and I cannot seem to situate myself. I am caught between the need to work for the greater good and the desire to life a regular life of materialistic consumption. It is possible that is this tension between these poles of my existence that keeps me going.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Review of AATABA
AATABA was a contemporary dance performance by a Moroccan female dance trio that became a quartet with the addition of of Namibian artist Angelica Schroder. The show had no program, the name of the choreographer was not announced, we were only told of the idea. The idea of cultural exchange between francophone Morocco and francophille Namibia.
The exchange of culture did appear fruitful as the ripples travelling through the back of Schroder captivated me. She had clearly internalized Moroccan belly dance techniques .However, when one of the Moroccan dancers began to send pulses of muscular articulation from her head to her waist and back up again, I felt shock waves move through my body in amazement. The Moroccan dancers used what we would call their traditional dance in combination with the dance of their former coloniser, France. This was demonstrated by the Moroccan dancer who executed sinuous movements of her arms while taking minuscule steps on the tips of her toes with her legs tightly together, called burees. With her back to the audience and her head turned just a tad to the side and up, she was the ballerina with mystic Arabian arms.
What made AATABA distinct from ethnic dance performances, whether they be ballet or belly dance, was the form of the whole piece. The painstaiking progression of movement ideas pervaded this performance. For me, the most poignant example of this was when one of the dancers took a plastic tub, full of tomatoes, dropped it on stage and slowly stepped into it. I still feel reverberations from that moment - her feet slowly plodding in the tomato pulp, while she turns with each step to give us a 360 degree view of how she steps. Time was dilated by her slowly meditative steps, but also rushed forward each time she jerked her foot up to the shin of the opposite leg. During this plodding, a woman undresses her self as she sits at the lip of stage. Taking her time, she pulls of her top to leave us staring at her in a her black lace bra. Her look is pensive and she begins to sing along with a chorus of female voices, in arabic, which is playing. Just that look evoked feelings within me. I wondered how her half naked body would be perceived in her native Morocco. What message could this send to those who believe in covering up the woman's body according to Islamic tradition?
It was the build up the ensued which wove together a message. The one on the tomatoes gradually stepped harder, splashing bits of red along her smooth legs. Concomitantly, another woman, lying on her back on stage and he bent legs jutting like mountain tops is roused to move. She progressively comes to cover her head with a black pantie hose. To her feet, she attaches the ends of the stockings and comes to stand up, with her knees bent. Black sinews appear to run from her feet to head and her legs resemble the curved arms of a praying mantis. Indeed, like the stealthy mantis, she moves forward in spurts with quick insect-like turns of her head. The stockings from her head to toes appear to constrain her movement as her torso stays close to the ground. But then she winds her arms round those black sinews, pulls on them occasionally reaches a leg up in a high diagonal, pushing the limits of her body. I saw her as dancing the plight of the Muslim woman who cannot show her face and is finding out how many was she can manoeuvre given her constraints. As this occurs, the voices of Arab women begin to crescendo and Schroder, seated in a far corner of the stage, covers her head with a green garment, resembling a woman wearing a veil, green for the color of Islam. A pulse in her torso raises her body to upright and she takes large steps towards the audience while her upper body continues to pulse and gyrate causing her veil to flutter. From within the veil, her arms grasp towards the audience, as if she were reaching from within this symbol of Islam.
Once Schroder came to edge of the stage, she removes the veil and begins to breath easily, while her fellow dancer removes the pantie hose from her head to also find respite. The tomatoes splashing stops and an air of stillness descends on stage. Was AATABA an expression of Moroccan feminism or was their something else? In spite of my interpretation, other audience members may have found different messages. An Italian lady I spoke to afterwards said she saw the bloodiness of War within the tomatoes and the stomping. Italians, French, Congolese, Moroccans and a few Namibians, these are the people that attended AATABA. I wish more of us could have come. It was probably just bad luck for the producers of the show, because while we were watching AATABA, in a half filled hall, hordes of Namibians were watching the Rugby. Next time, come to a contemporary dance show, where anything goes, including the physicality of rugby.
The exchange of culture did appear fruitful as the ripples travelling through the back of Schroder captivated me. She had clearly internalized Moroccan belly dance techniques .However, when one of the Moroccan dancers began to send pulses of muscular articulation from her head to her waist and back up again, I felt shock waves move through my body in amazement. The Moroccan dancers used what we would call their traditional dance in combination with the dance of their former coloniser, France. This was demonstrated by the Moroccan dancer who executed sinuous movements of her arms while taking minuscule steps on the tips of her toes with her legs tightly together, called burees. With her back to the audience and her head turned just a tad to the side and up, she was the ballerina with mystic Arabian arms.
What made AATABA distinct from ethnic dance performances, whether they be ballet or belly dance, was the form of the whole piece. The painstaiking progression of movement ideas pervaded this performance. For me, the most poignant example of this was when one of the dancers took a plastic tub, full of tomatoes, dropped it on stage and slowly stepped into it. I still feel reverberations from that moment - her feet slowly plodding in the tomato pulp, while she turns with each step to give us a 360 degree view of how she steps. Time was dilated by her slowly meditative steps, but also rushed forward each time she jerked her foot up to the shin of the opposite leg. During this plodding, a woman undresses her self as she sits at the lip of stage. Taking her time, she pulls of her top to leave us staring at her in a her black lace bra. Her look is pensive and she begins to sing along with a chorus of female voices, in arabic, which is playing. Just that look evoked feelings within me. I wondered how her half naked body would be perceived in her native Morocco. What message could this send to those who believe in covering up the woman's body according to Islamic tradition?
It was the build up the ensued which wove together a message. The one on the tomatoes gradually stepped harder, splashing bits of red along her smooth legs. Concomitantly, another woman, lying on her back on stage and he bent legs jutting like mountain tops is roused to move. She progressively comes to cover her head with a black pantie hose. To her feet, she attaches the ends of the stockings and comes to stand up, with her knees bent. Black sinews appear to run from her feet to head and her legs resemble the curved arms of a praying mantis. Indeed, like the stealthy mantis, she moves forward in spurts with quick insect-like turns of her head. The stockings from her head to toes appear to constrain her movement as her torso stays close to the ground. But then she winds her arms round those black sinews, pulls on them occasionally reaches a leg up in a high diagonal, pushing the limits of her body. I saw her as dancing the plight of the Muslim woman who cannot show her face and is finding out how many was she can manoeuvre given her constraints. As this occurs, the voices of Arab women begin to crescendo and Schroder, seated in a far corner of the stage, covers her head with a green garment, resembling a woman wearing a veil, green for the color of Islam. A pulse in her torso raises her body to upright and she takes large steps towards the audience while her upper body continues to pulse and gyrate causing her veil to flutter. From within the veil, her arms grasp towards the audience, as if she were reaching from within this symbol of Islam.
Once Schroder came to edge of the stage, she removes the veil and begins to breath easily, while her fellow dancer removes the pantie hose from her head to also find respite. The tomatoes splashing stops and an air of stillness descends on stage. Was AATABA an expression of Moroccan feminism or was their something else? In spite of my interpretation, other audience members may have found different messages. An Italian lady I spoke to afterwards said she saw the bloodiness of War within the tomatoes and the stomping. Italians, French, Congolese, Moroccans and a few Namibians, these are the people that attended AATABA. I wish more of us could have come. It was probably just bad luck for the producers of the show, because while we were watching AATABA, in a half filled hall, hordes of Namibians were watching the Rugby. Next time, come to a contemporary dance show, where anything goes, including the physicality of rugby.
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