Circles

I haven’t written an update for months. I’ve wanted to, but every time I sat down to share a thought, or an observation, I was acutely aware that something was incomplete. And so, I said to myself, why offer a fleeting, shredded little thing when you can gather up your thoughts for something substantial? Little did I know, that the substantial is made from the tattered bits and pieces.

Fresh catch.

 

 

Some of what I learned was really to appreciate myself, my mind, my smarts.   I started to notice the little inner voices that would tell me I couldn’t, I shouldn’t, it will never work.  But reality was filled with space, room for me to do exactly what I dreamed up.  That contradiction, between outside and inside my head, was just what I needed in order to recognize and silence those voices of doubt. 

 

 

 

 

 

Through living as fully as I could, I was offered pieces of myself – pieces that peer back at me as I peer at them, initiating an act of uncovering.  It makes me think of revelation not as some passive gift that is offered from on high, but an endeavor that has to be initiated and carried out. Revelation comes when you push the limitations of your own mind, a new world is revealed as old thinking is moved aside and deeper knowledge is allowed in.

 

This work doesn’t necessarily need stillness and quiet – it can come through lots of interaction, stimulation and, sometimes, from being in a totally different context.  Though I suppose part of the work of reflecting is just that, recognizing your own mind amid a great deal of information. Recognizing how you see, how you get in the way of seeing and how you fit within a larger picture.  I am grateful to have had 8 months to hone the art of seeing, and to gain an appreciation of my place in this world.

I am grateful to all the people who offered me kindness, sweetness, great food, and a a bit of their perspective on the world.  I look forward to completing my play, having it produced, to writing for other projects in India, and to running theater trainings and community projects in the U.S.  I’ll be MCing the Women in Islam awards this month in NYC, I’ll be in Little Rock, Arkansas next month, and I’ll be back in India come September to offer support to an International school in Bombay on their arts programs and curriculum.  So, the story continues.  Thanks for reading and let’s catch up sometime.

Slow Motion Changes

I’ve come back from Afghanistan about 3 weeks ago, and in another 3 weeks I am heading off to India for 8 months on a Fulbright grant.  I’ll be returning to the country of my birth and the adopted homeland of my people.  It will be strange to be back in a place that is so familiar but so alien.  It’s like meeting a celebrity in person.  You recognize her, you’ve seen so often.  However being here, face to face, makes you realize that you have no idea who this person is and she knows nothing about you.  So, what do you do now?  Do you run right into her face and tell her you are her number one fan?  Or do you linger around the edges, trying to catch her eye and give a slight wave?

Everything’s changing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How does one relate to a place with epic personal, familial, social and historical significance?  I feel like if I am not immediately capable and comfortable I will have severed a connection to my heritage, never to be allowed to say I am an Indian (even though I carry an Overseas Citizen of India card).  No wonder I’ve been stressed out these past few weeks.  I’ve been feeling a bit frozen, suspended in air, slowly moving towards something.

Yikes! (Image by Luba Lukova)

This is a tremendous change and I am terrified.  But I’m terrified in a most delightful way (Thank you Mary Poppins).

Terrified of leaving my home, my partner, my family, my friendship and support networks, my cat, the local shop clerks, randomly seeing friends on the subway; everything I am familiar with.

Delightful because the worst case scenarios I envision don’t involve me being destitute or having to give up my life’s work – which are the things that terrify me when I am home, living as an artist. Isn’t that interesting?

I’ve just realized that this is the first time I will be have the financial freedom to research and write, just do what an artist does.  I’ve never been been able to only write, imagine, create – without thinking of bills, bills, bills.  And usually that means having to supplement my income from creative work with income from other work.  Now, with the support of the Fulbright award, my worst case scenarios have transformed from inhuman, spirit-crushing nightmares into manageable, not terrible alternatives – ones I can work with.

The imaginary things that might go wrong are:
– I get writer’s block;
– my research forces me to re-write my story entirely;
– I am drawn into a different subject which inspires me to write another work.

All of these will provide me with challenges within my field and will generate more work for me.  Just like any job, as you move ahead you discover things to respond to.  Except in an artist’s world, we have to deal with the things that come up in our work – while we figure out how to earn a living!

I might, only now, learn how an artist can live in a supportive society – without being anxiety ridden to compete, to hyper-monetize everything, to work all the hours of the day.  If artists weren’t constantly marginalized and pushed to the brink what might we be able to come up with?  What could our contribution to society look like?

I suppose very soon, I get to find out.  Even if it’s for a short time, I’m grateful.

Wish me luck!

 

Friday, Friday

Shamim in the garden.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s a Friday full of sweetness and sadness for me.  I leave in a couple of days and I am spending this lazy Friday visiting friends to say goodbye … until we meet again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Everything about the city seems magical today.   The mountains are glowing white, circled by grey clouds.

 

 

 

The streets are calm and people are out and about.

 

Yes, this is Kabul too.

 

 

I visited a lovely part of the city today.  Nouria who is the housekeeper invited me to her home and I also had lunch at the home of my colleague – and training assistant – Sepas.

 

 

 

 

 

Their neighborhood is green, tranquil and full of old homes made in the traditional style with natural mud called gila.

 

Nouria walks ahead.

 

 

An old door.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chickens in Nouria's yard.

 

Sepas and his kind father.

 

 

Sepas has worked with me for the last two years and I finally got to meet his lovely and gracious family.  He loves theater and is passionate about Theater of the Oppressed.

 

 

Yesterday, the last day of the training, he said that this theater is a theater that people can trust and he thought it could be the strongest form of theater in Afghanistan.  I cried.

 

 

 

The groups from Herat, Khost and Baghlan were amazing during the final performance and I was so proud of their audience facilitation.  They were able to get people talking, sharing ideas and even had a few audience interventions on stage.

Audience member steps in as the daughter to convince "her" uncles to send her to university.

 

 

During our evaluation I asked each member to say one new thing they learned – a concept, game, technique.  One actor said previous to this training, he saw the oppressed as the loser; killed, beaten, or otherwise defeated.  Now he sees that the oppressed are always trying; the struggle always continues.

 

I am sad to leave Kabul but proud that the main concepts of artistic liberation have take root with groups in 6 different provinces.  The groups are strong, creative and dedicated to making society more human despite the inhuman conditions all around them.  I hope that we can continue to teach each other and learn together.

 

Next big plan: bringing groups from Afghanistan, Iran and Pakistan together to share community arts practices and discuss how local culture and arts initiatives can be used to address issues that are common in all three countries.

Any ideas for support, let me know!

Haydari is on the far left. he made me this amazing dress, pants and scarf.

 

Oh, one more thing … this morning I had a great surprise.  I was visited by my former students from Jalalabad who came up to Kabul with a parting gift for me.  Haydari – who is a tailor as well as an actor – made me a traditional Afghan outfit and I cried.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Life Interrupted

Rustom trying to fly away.

 

 

 

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?

 

 

This week was a long week with lots of prodding and pushing. We were telling stories about oppression, personal experiences of oppression, something simple, clear. I started by asking them to make a frozen body sculpture of one such experience.  After the activity, we spoke about what they were showing.

Rahella and Zahra making an image.

 

It turns out no one made an image of something from their own life! They made images from other people’s lives, images from stories they heard, or things they saw. They were finding it hard to access those personal stories, without compounding them with others.

 

 

I asked my translator Walizada if it was the translation. We tried a few different times but it didn’t seem like it was working. Then some folks said they weren’t oppressed!

Who me, oppressed? I'm chilling!

 

Hmmm … let’s see where we go with this.

 

 

 

Or fester like a sore—

And then run?

 

The next day I had them make group sculptures of an oppression seen in society. Poverty, unemployment, lack of education – they named the issues. They created 4 or 5 frozen scenes to show a problem playing out. This time, almost every one of them included weapons, force, and violence on top of the social issue shown.

Zarmuhammed and Noorwali take an image. In the background, similar stances are seen.

 

 

When we discussed these images, it turns out that everyone’s lives have been interrupted by decades of war.

 

Mirzagul and Noorwali showing an image of a suicide bomb attack.

Their educational opportunities, their opportunities to work and the simple ability to live in stability and peace are things that were torn from them and the lives of their families. Stories were of kidnappings, gunshots, fleeing armies, and enduring the Taliban.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Their lives are like a body whose parts are chopped off by the cleaver of war and the effects of war. It is only recently that they’ve tried to put those pieces back together.

 

 

 

Does it stink like rotten meat?

Or crust and sugar over—

like a syrupy sweet?

 

But how can a society of amputees be expected to get up and run a marathon? They need to heal, to gather themselves together, to become whole.

Sami leading Tagobi and Ziamurad.

 

 

Rahella tries to see what's on the other side.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maybe it just sags

like a heavy load.

 

Or does it explode?

 

Finally, I had them do a visualization of a desire they once had but weren’t able to fulfill – a simple desire from childhood or early in their lives.

They were to then imagine a journey to find that lost desire, what would they have to do to get to it? Would they have to climb a mountain, swim in the ocean, walk a long road?

And lastly, when they reclaimed that desire, what animal would it turn into?

 

 

 

This brought out such wonderful imagery and rich explorations. Rather than speaking of problems, which are MANY, we spoke about lost desire. This allowed them to dig under the trauma, the constant instability, the uncertainty, to a place where they dreamed of a better future.

 

Fariba leads with her whole self.

 

The stories that they expressed were simple desires of a time when they could consider going after small, personal desires.  One person spoke of wanting to learn to swim, another spoke of wanting to ride a bicycle all over her town,  a third person shared their desire to be an artist but was forced to start working at age 12.

 

One person wanted to be an archeologist but this knowledge and course of study wasn’t offered.  Another spoke of wanting to walk to a neighboring village to see an eagle that was said to live there.

 

Ajmal looks back to find his lost dream.

 

 

It was wonderful to be able to have them reconnect with a part of themselves buried under the rubble of violence and war.

 

 

 

From these desires we are going to build our play.  There was a definite change in the air after they embodied their animals and many spoke of regaining a sense of dreaming.

 

 

Mirzagul exploring the activity.

 

 

These men, women and girls all have figured out how to use creativity, intelligence and the few resources they can get to bring art and goodness to their society.  They are transforming into birds of freedom, bringing messages of life, vibrant hopes and collective endeavor to their communities.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Monira summarizes some of the history of the Theater of the Oppressed.

 

 

 

 

I keep reading articles on the international failure to turn around Afghanistan, on the increasing Talibanisation, on the decreasing women’s rights.  But you never hear of artists taking their lives and their futures into their own hands and setting off to create new avenues of change.

 

Please tell people about this work.  About the thousands of Afghans who are healing their society, who are working for whole communities, who are making a way where there is none.

 

It won’t happen over night, not even in 10 years.  But slowly and surely these birds are gonna take flight.  Let’s support their soaring ambitions.

Fly high.

 

 

 

 

I’m Alright … But It’s Not OK

Live footage on TV of the fighting near the Parliament building.

 

 

I was completely unaware of the attacks in Kabul today until much later in the afternoon.  Our office is far from the areas targeted in a normal, very Afghan part of the city.  No embassies, international NGOs, or political offices.

 

 

Some young men, this afternoon, were trying something; filled with fear, rage and hopelessness.  I thought about the poor victims, their families.  And then I wondered about the lives of these fighters.  How dark and confused must their way be?  6 men against national and international armies isn’t a fair fight, and they know it.  They know that the most they can do is to disrupt things for a day or two before dying in the fight.  It saddens me that no one had a candle for them.  No one could help them see a future worth living for.  They had given up on life.

 

The actors discussing one of the activities with each other.

The 3 new theater groups, from Herat, Khost, and Baghlan provinces,  are creative, intelligent and passionate about their work.  They have no illusions about the problems they face, but they are convinced that through creativity, through hopeful and truthful dialogue, they can move towards unity.

They are committed to trying something too.

 

 

 

 

Consumed

It’s that time of the year again.  Spring is creeping up on us, new shoots are poking up from the ground and festivals of regeneration and re-birth are taking place around the world. 

In my ancestral part of the world, South and West Asia,  the festival of Holi, (celebrated in South Asia) and Norooz (celebrated in West Asia), are coming up this month.  Holi is March 8, Norooz is March 20th.  Both feature fire, a meditation on righteousness and lots of color.

During Holi, people burn large bonfires in public and rededicate themselves to placing good over evil.   Then they revel in a day-long public celebration of throwing water and color on each other.  The internal struggle brings one in line with the natural struggle of life over death, the emergence of color and vitality after the dormancy of winter.

For Norooz, large bonfires are set in public the Wednesday before New Year (Chahar Shanbeh Soori) and people jump over the fires with an intention to receive the fire’s strength and to burn away their own stagnant energy.

On New Year’s day they set elaborate tables of colorful items to signify the New Year’s blessings and renew themselves and their intentions for the world. Again, the permanence of goodness and harmony is insisted upon after the discord of winter. Our fears are allayed by nature’s process of sending out color and sustenance, and also by our inward journey to bring light to those places colored by the messages of oppression.

I love all the metaphors of fire and light and the duality between lightness and dark, but also in the duality of fire itself.  Fire can kill and harm, but it can also purify and enlighten.  Why? What distinguishes a  beneficial fire from a destructive one?  Actually, it isn’t the fire at all.  It’s the person or thing the fire is acting upon.  So what power do humans possess that can change the way a fire burns?

Looking up the dictionary definition of “consume” I am struck with the negative connotations:
1. to destroy or expend by use; use up. 2. to eat or drink up; devour. 3. to destroy, as by decomposition or burning. 4.to spend (money, time, etc.) wastefully.

These references make me feel like I can’t stop the machine of consumption.  We become objects in a larger process, we are consumed by capitalism, consumed by oppression, and we then consume others.  An external force that neither I, nor anyone I know, created.  So can this external force be purified?  Transformed?

image: Luba Lukova

Yes!  But not BY consumption … WITH consumption. When you are consumed with something, the fire comes from within.  Even if it scares you, it’s your flame, it’s your best vision, and stepping into it means to step into your own light.  We must discern what type of energy we are being consumed by or with.  Are we preoccupied with the heat of oppression, believing the smoky distortions, falling victim to them?  Or are we focused on our own fire; walking in the light of what we know is true?

I’ll be busy this month with workshops and talks before I go back in Kabul at the end of the month. I hope you can make one of my events.  Let’s find our brightest path, shout FIRE, and walk into the flames!

Here are some Asian artists igniting flames of love and equity, helping people shake off the darkness through the arts.  I hope their work reminds you that in every single country there are remarkable, innovative artists working for liberation.

Studio Revolt in Cambodia: the studio collaborates with emerging Cambodian and deported artists to assert a new generation of narratives. Together we will shape a new movement that frees Cambodian imagination and consciousness beyond war and poverty.

Interactive Resource Center in Pakistan:  striving to build consciousness among marginalized sections of the society in Pakistan regarding their basic rights. Newsletter with videos here.

Ashtar Theater in Palestine: It is a dynamic local Palestinian theater with a truly progressive global perspective. It aims at promoting creativity and commitment for change.

Winter Events

Since returning from Kabul last month I’ve  jumped back into NYC life with both feet!  Now I find my schedule full of speaking events and workshops from February through March!

If you will be in NYC on any of these dates, please come to one or more of these events.  I’d love to see you.  And as always, please forward this to anyone who you think would be interested.

Don't walk ... run!

After this I am off to Kabul again in April to advance the arts, culture and civic engagement work I’ve be doing.  More to come on that!!

January 28-29, 2012
10:00 am  – 6:00 pm
Two-day workshop – Rainbow of Desire
As part of the Theater of the Oppressed Laboratory
Location: The Brecht Forum, NYC.

February 11, 2012
10:00 am – 6:00 pm
One day workshop – Introduction to Theater of the Oppressed
As part of the Theater of the Oppressed Laboratory
Location: The Brecht Forum, NYC.

February 29, 2012
7:30 pm
Special Forum on Global Women’s Empowerment
As Part of the Women on Wednesdays Art and Culture Project
Moderator: Shani Jamila; Performance by Imani Uzuri
Panelists: Paloma McGregor, Aimee Cox, Imani Uzuri, Kayhan Irani, Anusha Mehar, Dayanara Marte
Location: The Brecht Forum, NYC.

March 30th, 2012
7:30 pm
Talk and Discussion – A Report-Back on Theater and Solidarity in Afghanistan
A discussion about my work with Afghan Education Projects. How can artists build a consciousness of solidarity in a war zone? Can movement building happen within an occupied space?
Location: The Brecht Forum, NYC.

The Burka Series

The burka.  It is such an emotionally charged, unique piece of clothing.  For me, focusing on a thing rather than the real issues of sexism and women’s oppression doesn’t make sense, and foreign obsession fn the burka often stinks of exoticism and othering.  So I’ve never commented on it nor have I spent much attention on it … until my last night in Kabul.

Nouria, Zabi’s dear aunt and my new friend, slept over the guest house the night before I was to leave Kabul.  We stayed up together, sitting by the fire and talking – well, she did most of the talking I did what I could to try and keep up with her.

At one point she started talking about how hard things were when the Taliban was in power – especially for women.  She then asked if I wanted to see her burka.  Though he doesn’t have to wear it, she still does. She didn’t call it a burka, she calls it her chador which is a general term for a long, draped covering.

But when she walked back into the room with the signature sky blue fabric with its perfect accordion pleats and gorgeous embroidery, there was no question of what she was referring to.

She put it on and wanted me to take her photo in it. 

As I took a couple of photos, something came over Nouria.  A spirited laugh started up and she began to direct a sort of photo shoot of myself and herself in the burka.

She had me take her photo as she was sitting down, standing up, cycling on the exercise bike!

She dressed me in it.

She called in Nassim, she made him pose with me.

Then she moved me into the kitchen where she shot a series of me doing household chores!

Throughout the shoot she was laughing hysterically and getting more and more bold.  we were both rolling with tears of laughter.  It was a funny, wonderful play session and clearly there was something therapeutic for Nouria.  Being able to be the center of attention and to be in charge is something that women don’t often get to do in the public sphere.  Calling the shots – when, where and how – is limited.  So here she was directing me the foreigner and even Nassim.  She was using one of the symbols of women’s oppression as the frame for her to be able to take control.  An item which helps her disappear, fade away, is now part of her emergence, part of her experiment in telling others what to do.

I was happy to follow her lead and let her find her own way.   If she needed the burka in order to figure things out, then I was fine with that.  It made me think of development efforts and cross-cultural solidarity efforts.  It’s more important to support people as they figure things out for themselves than it is to make yourself comfortable and draw the map and the key and all possible roads.

People know how to work towards liberation – even if it sometimes it means holding on to the thing that represents their oppression. If only we all can trust in and build relationships based on the notion that all people are good, smart, and capable.  How much stronger would all our efforts to end injustice be?

I look forward to being home again and writing my report on my training.

I’ve learned so many important lessons and I look forward to putting them down.  For now, I’ll be enjoying the holidays (and my birthday) back home in NYC.  More later. ….

Sweet and Sick

Today is the holy day of Ashura where, in Islam, believers mourn the death of Imam Hussein, the prophet Mohammed’s grandson. Imam Hussein was fighting a great oppressor and on this day he and his entire family and followers were massacred and left in the desert of Karbala.  This story is most important to Shi’ia Muslims a they believe Imam Hussein to be the rightful successor to the prophet Mohammed.  Sunnis also believe this day to be sacred and attribute other reasons to the observance like the day god forgave Adam.

Rice pudding dotted with crushed cardamom

For all, it is a day to mourn, to reflect, to gather with close family and friends and to re-dedicate one’s self to overcoming oppression and moving towards justice.  We have the day off and I am home reading and resting.  In Afghanistan, people make Sheer-E-Berenj (milky rice) or rice pudding and distribute it to neighbors and friends and family.  Today Nassim, one of the guest house cooks and caretakers, made some rice pudding for us.

Nassim with fresh Sheer-E-Berenj

Nassim was kind enough to include us and it was lovely to join the observances in a little way.   Serena, who is staying at the guest home with me, enjoyed the warm pudding too and as we ate it up happily we spoke about taking a walk later in the day.  It’s a sunny, mild day and it’s always nice to spend a little time wandering our neighborhood.  Happy with the sweet sheer-E-berenj in our tummies, we went off to our own rooms again.

Then Serena got the text.  A bomb exploded in a crowded Shi’ia Mosque in Kabul.  20 people were confirmed dead and the toll was expected to rise.  I was sick.  I texted all the friends and contacts I had in Kabul to make sure people were okay.  I was especially worried about my Shi’ia friends and their families.  Were some of them observing the day at this mosque?  Suddenly I wished I had not eaten the rice pudding, it was turning and churning in my stomach as I waited for responses.

One by one they came in.  People were fine, unharmed, some were worried about their co-religionists.  Most everyone asked how I was and wanted to make sure I was okay.  I was overcome with emotion.  Why?  Why? Why?  What purpose?  What use?  What rationale?  There is much complexity to answer why and what rationale – from the individual who carried out the suicide attack to those who helped, planned, and who justify it.  But at the core is the age old divide and conquer strategy.  As long as multiple schisms, breaks, and barriers are present between humans – justice for all will never come.  Those who benefit from injustice have a vested interest in keeping people at each others’ throats.  Religion, nationality, race, gender, age, etc. are all convenient distractions that engage us in fighting each other instead of the larger forces that keep us in chains.

Connection.

 

May we reflect today, as those who are observing Ashura, on the chains that bind us.  Let us see what we need to let go of, unravel, and heave off. Right now it feels hard, but I am grateful to be here with the theater team from Kunduz.  I am honored to work with people dedicated to overcoming oppression through non-violence, through art, and through community building.  While it seems small, I know it is the only way forward.  I hope we can all see the destruction that injustice and oppression has wrought on our world, mourn the pain, and then go out and offer sweetness and closeness to our neighbors.

My time in Kabul is coming to a close.  Our final performances are Thursday and then I return home soon after.  I am thankful that I have closeness and community here and for the openness and generosity shown to me.  It’s a bittersweet place to be.

Back to Basics

Hello Kabul! Hello mountains.  Hello kindness.  Hello community.  Hello learning.  Hello growing.  Hello change.  I feel so full of joy and gratitude to be here and do what I love.  It’s been such a busy week and I can’t believe that already I am half way done!  I am finding out that being the sole facilitator and workshop coordinator is pretty time consuming but  I promise to send more updates.

No, wait ... Marya don't pose. Stay as you were ... Oh well.

For now, it’s wonderful to be back in Kabul and especially wonderful to be back at the BBC-AEPand focusing on Theater of the Oppressed.  It is my specialty and my passion and I love how the process builds closeness, community and solidarity.  Speaking of community – let’s meet the new group from Kunduz.  Akmal, Bashir, Bilkis, Hadissa, Fereydoon, and Marya.  Only 6 people means that we get to do more, discuss more and really understand each other.

It is different working with a small group and I am learning so much from being with them.  For one, they are teaching me to slow down.  Their easy way and unaffected intimacy put me at ease and I don’t mind that we now take two tea breaks in the morning, not one!

Tea time ... again!

We talk, make jokes, tell stories, and connect.

Kunduz is a province in the North of Afghanistan sharing a long northern border with Tajikistan.  I asked them to tell me about Kunduz and they said people call Kunduz a little Afghanistan because so many different ethnic groups live in the province, in relative harmony (Tajik, Pashto, Hazara, Uzbek, Baluch, etc.).  Akmal told me that his mother is Uzbek, his father is Pashto, he has a Tajik brother-in-law.  Kunduz is in a valley so it’s relatively flat compared to Kabul which is nestled in the mountains.  (A young woman from Kunduz who now lives in Kabul – but who isn’t in this group – said people started calling Kunduz the “little Kandahar” because of the rise in conservatism and Taliban fighting.)

Creating a story based on the Forum Theater structure.

Fereydoon said that there is still lots of conservatism and fundamentalism, and you can see it rise with increasing unemployment and poverty.  But much of the fighting has stopped since NATO and Pakistani forces have stopped using certain roads through Kunduz.  Just as the people’s ethnic identities vary, so do their political beliefs.  And it’s all within close quarters.  Bashir told a story of brothers who are on opposite ends of the political spectrum; one is secular and the other is part of the Taliban.  Talk about tense dinnertime conversation!

Everyone busy at play.

Our group is already working on two stories, one of male domination and one of students’ oppression at the hands of teachers.  Both are huge issue.  Teachers have total domination and authority to abuse verbally, physically, and mentally – just as husbands do.

Setting the scene - a classroom exam.

Analysis of Students' Oppression in the Classroom

The group created an excellent problem tree which detailed the larger social, political and cultural forces that allow for authoritarianism and unfairness in the classroom.  The everyday issues (seen as the leaves) were violence, verbal abuse, asking for gifts/bribes, lack of preparedness of teachers, discrimination and carelessness.  The trunk – which represent the larger social and cultural values and systems that hold up these everyday acts of oppression – were identified as teachers were unprepared, had bad information, low teacher salary, no teachers’ rights, government corruption, culture of giving total power to teachers, students are powerless, lack of oversight, improper curriculum and training, and distrust of one another.  Whew!

Then the roots were drawn.  the long term, deepest issues that affect all systems and levels of society.  The roots were corruption, continued neglect, foreign interference, poverty, tribal conflicts, war, and political factions.

Writing the Problem Tree

You can see how this process is really powerful.  From working on our own, personal stories we can connect so many interwoven threads.  It makes it obvious that any attempt for social change and problem solving needs to understand the ground it’s rooted in.  This reinforces the idea that in order to make change, we all need to work together because our futures are interdependent.  The following saying sums it up, from an Aboriginal women’s collective: “If you have come here to help me, then you are wasting your time.  But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.”

After hearing this saying, Bilkis asks if we can rename the problem tree.  She tells the following story – a king has a bad dream and calls together his dream analyzers to help him read the dream’s message.  The first says that his whole family will die.  He banishes this interpreter.  The next, having been forewarned, tells the king that his dream means he will outlive most of his family.  He is thanked.  Bilkis says that there are different ways to say the same thing.  With her guidance, we renamed the problem tree – the forest of freedom.  Because once we clear the path out, we can follow it to liberation!

Bilkis freezes in an image.

Snow covered mountains.