Sunday, September 19, 2010

Papas Fritas

The University of Antioquia is closed down, at least until Monday, but possibly for longer, in order to 'restore security.' The 'Assemblies,' the student organizations which present political opposition, have been quite active in the past week. For students, the sound of 'papas,' little bombs going off, and people in masks running around, are not exactly uncommon. Although most Universities are five years long here, it is rare for students to leave the University of Antioquia in five years, because it is often organized within certain majors for students to boycott classes as a way of wasting the University's money in political opposition. A single semester can take a few extra months, or a whole year to complete. In particular, they have been opposed to the 'TIP,' an identity card required of every University student. Some believe there is a GPS chip installed in these cards that can track students everywhere they go, but most students I have spoken with find this ridiculously paranoid. A month and a half ago they bombed a computer system connected to the TIP. On the 13th of this month the TIP was fully implemented, and after some opposition at the start of the week, on the 16th the Rector of the school announced that the implementation of the TIP was 'a decision irreversible and un-negotiable.' The student opposition erupted even more in response, resulting in the police coming in and shutting down the University. The student groups are referred to as 'insurgents' and 'terrorists' in the media here. I guess the political language for the demonization of institutional/state opposition is consistent. I've been told to be careful around this campus because a general anti-imperialist sentiment is common in the community. 'Yankees go home!' is an often heard chant. But nonetheless, I'll start teaching at this University a little over a week from now, should it reopen.

I know they're in Spanish, but check these out, and maybe you can use Google translator:
I returned to the 'Arte y Infancia' program yesterday to help Oneides by doing some exercises on character creation with those students, then had my second, and luckily last, day of performing the Dr. Seuss songs at the Festival de Libros. It was fine, better than last week, but I don't think I could ever work consistently singing kids songs. Juan was running an event right after me, so I watched Emmanuel while he taught drawing. Being a parent must be like sacrificing yourself on the alter, and becoming a new, without-self, solely preoccupied the safety of the anarchic force you have created. I saw a group of Apaches from Arizona give a presentation at the Colombo on Friday, then had a bite with them and other Colombo staff. At night I went to Tango show at Teatro Lilo, featuring Veronica, a friend of Danny from Renovacion. Thursday night I went to 'De Dos Amores,' a comedic version of Federico Garcia Lorca's 'Boda de Sangre' or 'Blood Wedding,' which was really fantastic. I was almost crying from joy during a surreal moment when Leonardo is conducting an orchestra of the the other characters' movements. Raol, one of the actors I was working with at Nuestra Gente, invited me, and was excellent in this role. All three men in drag were fabulous as well. I enjoyed the production's attitude towards reality: post-modern if you want to categorize its style. Then we stopped into a bar with live 'ranchero' music for a bit.

Work continues to be excellent. In addition to Circo Momo, Nuestra Gente, San Ignacio, and Maria Cano, all moving forward differently this week, I taught in English on Wednesday to a high school age 'integrated skills' English class from the Colombo. I was able to reflect differently after teaching in English, on how Boal's exercises function as a metaphor for how individuals act relationally: how someone uses power, how someone treats someone else in power, how much trust someone can give, how comfortable someone is being spontaneous and playing in front of others, etc. Of course these are motifs I'm concentrating on overall, but I was reminded of this 'relational parallel,' you might be call it, by processing after the workshop in English. Especially after working with the professional actors from Nuestra Gente, feeling quite strongly their confidence in themselves, their unwavering dedication to each exercise, their respect and trust in the others in their group, working with this group of high-schoolers totally unaccustomed to working physically in a group setting, helped reawaken me to the subtleties of distrust and disrespect. It is so easy to abuse power when you have it, even if it is masked as a joke between friends. I had to really yell after a student kicked someone who had their eyes closed. What makes someone unable to invest themselves in a simple game, or follow simple instructions, or lash out at another after an experience of vulnerability, is of course fear. And I'm finding that with a clear ritual I can often assuage some of these fears that would otherwise pop up. But when I enter a group dynamic already established, it is a slow process of altering that dynamic. My ability to control my own presence in the room in general is definitely still hampered by the language barrier. I'm comfortable putting in this little bit of class processing here, because it is a group I will never return to again, and I have not been overly specific.

It's raining again today. It's been raining a little bit most days this week, but usually not for more than an hour or two. And I guess...I guess as I lie here in slippers in a hammock on a rainy Sunday, wondering whether to try to find a place to get a hair cut or translate some exercises I want to try for this week, or go have lunch at Taller 7, I feel mostly solid. I didn't go out last night, I stayed in and read. Despite how nice the friends are I've made here, social interaction can be tiring sometimes, because I still don't understand everything unless people speak slowly. And so I thought about silence. It's something I'm always insisting on in my workshops. But students somehow find a reason they need to talk. My tendency is to consider it an attempt to comfort themselves or escape the direct experience. So my job is to insist on the direct experience. But if my own fear is connected to verbal communication then my silence is the escape. For now, I feel the respite is justified. Tomorrow, to confront again. The language, and hopefully in my own way, the silence. Because there is a lot more to silence than merely the lack of words. Ah, it stopped raining already. What's worth doing with a Sunday?
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