Stay Here

I can’t seem to turn on the news without having violence, persecution, oppression and the worst of human behavior splashed in my face. Yesterday, I was speaking to my partner’s ex-roommate and he, teasingly, asked me what war-torn part of the world was I planning to visit next?  The truth is I’ve had many impulses to run away and try to heal the pain of the world — somewhere else — but I’m counseling myself to stay here.

Women theater activists meet in NYC.

If I can give to others, can I give to myself?  Can I trust that developing my mind, my talents, my dreams in the place that I’ve made for myself, be of value?

I’m not talking about withdrawing, shutting my eyes, or saying that issues that don’t effect me are not my problem.  I am saying that the world needs us to go for what we want most. Our deepest desires and potential need to be acted upon so that we are strong and smart and open to figuring out new ways of doing things.

We won’t know how to transform situations and lives on the other side of the world (literally or metaphorically) if we haven’t had the practice of transforming ourselves.

Stay Here.  What does that mean to you?

For me, it means the FIRST public reading of my fiction writing.  (You are all invited!)

It means taking a new project with Literacy Partners where I will co-create a curriculum and teach adult ESL that includes information on child development and how parents can help children grow their minds.

Flowers growing in my garden.

I will build my life with my partner, friends, community, family.  Make art: write, collaborate, share.

This dad knows what he’s doing. … So tell me, what about you?

 

Crafting History

Sometimes I wonder if everything I’ve thought of, everything I’m thinking of, has been thought before.  Often, it’s in bouts of depression and my conclusion is that I’m probably useless and unoriginal.  (Yes, I am being a bit dramatic but that’s me!)

These last few months, however, when I reflect on the originality of my being (how embarrassing) I have been grateful for all the thinking that has come before me.

At 93, Nadja is still making torans. She shows me some of her sketches.

Millions of people, doing the best they could, have lived lives and laid the groundwork for me to do what I do.  Being immersed in the world of craft, it is starting to make more and more sense that originality isn’t highly prized.  It’s nice, but it isn’t the point.

As I’ve been learning how to make a toran (a beaded wall hanging that is strung in a doorway) it amazed me that instinctively I said I’d prefer to follow a pattern that someone has done before.  As my elders have tried to show me new techniques or ways I could change my pattern my stock answer has been “I just want to do it this way until I understand”.

Mani strings the thread needed to weave the beaded toran.

Look at me, I’m learning!

Craft is about following knowledge, putting together history and the information that has come before you.  Piecing together meaning – understanding – through practice.  And only when one understands the story, the hows and whys, can one add a unique element to that story.

 

Making a toran in a traditional Parsi baugh (housing development), surrounded by people who know and appreciate the craft, who display their own torans, who have pieces of the past to complete my puzzle is a unique and vital part of learning the craft.  During the days I could wander the halls and see the different designs and aesthetics at play. I came to see what people appreciated and wanted to project in front of their homes.  People who walked by and saw me at my work recognized what I was doing and inquired about it.

My first little scallops complete!

Craft is not simply the creation of a product.  It is an assembly of knowledge, belief, skill, context and imagination applied and developed over time to create significant, living things.  Embedded in the process of craft are a multitude of social functions from religious practice to identity formation to relationship building to exercising power to visualizing the future.

The materials used, the process of work, the relationship of craftspeople to their community, the standing of the community within a larger society are all interconnected elements and the relationships constructed between these elements fuel the vitality and development of a craft tradition.  Craft has a soul and craft creates soul.  In order for that soul to thrive all these connections need to be maintained with dignity – human and environmental.

A young woman trains in block printing techniques at the Weaver’s Service Center in Bombay.

 

 

Hey lady, what’s your story?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For craft revivalists and preservationists, the challenge is how to hold this soul and help it do well.  Beyond the economic realm, what responsibility does the revival community have to help heal the social ruptures (oppressions) that have caused the decline and disappearance of craft traditions and the marginalization of craft workers?  How to construct a holistic view of craft revival that honors the complex social web that is at the core of craft work that goes beyond the houses of commerce?

I don’t have any answers but I am eager to follow the threads as I delve deeper into the complex and beautiful world of craft and it’s importance within all societies.

 

Saris getting ready for a steam which will set the color of the block prints.

A sari laid out for block printing.

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You Can’t Have It

The kids cheer after seeing their cousin on TV.

 

 

 

Tomorrow is my last day of training.  The actors from Khost, Baghlan and Herat are going to perform two short Forum Theater plays for a limited audience of friends and colleagues.

At the core of both stories is the question of whose decisions are respected?  Who has the power to make a life choice, and who doesn’t.

 

 

The eldest uncle shows his displeasure.

 

 

The first story is that of a young girl, Faribah, and her widowed mother.  Faribah’s excited that she passed her exams and her mother is unsure but proud that she’ll go to university.

 

However, there are two uncles standing in the way.  They are afraid that a girl in the world will sully their reputation, besides, this is the first time such a thing would be happening in this family.

In the end, mother and daughter have no say in the matter … or do they?

 

The second story is one of a young man whose dream it is to be an actor.  His uncle sees him in a drama on TV and threatens to kick him out of the house.  The boy’s father supports him but he has no money nor resources to rely on should they be kicked out of the house.

 

Will Mirza be forced to abandon his dreams for a roof overhead?  Can a young man choose to be an artist?

 

Our discussions around the play have been about choice.  Who gets to make the choice, which choices are respected and how long is the distance is between law and customary practice.

 

 

When someone is threatening your livelihood – you aren’t cavalier with the outcome.  Especially not in a country like Afghanistan where many family members live under one roof and off of one income.

 

 

What is the value of the arts in society?  Other careers are respected, but art is overlooked.  (Seems like Afghanistan isn’t that different from many places in this regard.)

 

How can we redefine the value of arts in society – not just in terms of money but in terms of how art feeds society and makes it healthy.

 

 

In the case of the mother and daughter, how does someone access rights they don’t know they have?

How to bring the culture, values and norms in line with formal law … or create mechanisms of justice that are rooted in culturally respected practice?

Faribah sulks while her mother tries to push for her education.

 

 

How to fight oppression and internalized oppression so that people feel worthy of accessing justice?

 

 

Our discussions have been robust and I am pleased that the actors are engaging in thinking and rethinking their assumptions.  Often times they start out with the “P.C.” answer, then express a non-P.C. answer, and then have lively discussion about why each side is wrong!

 

 

They head out to their provinces on Friday where they will perform these shows and then create a brand new one with their full groups.  I can’t wait to hear what they do, what discussions they have, and how theater is bringing about discussion, debate and self reflection. 

 

I am off to an Afghan wedding tonight … stay tuned for photos!

Love K

Working Hard for the Money

Soul Train line ... Afghan style!

 

 

 

It’s hard, hard work here in Kabul.

 

 

 

 

This is a very important step in the process. Hard, hard work!

 

 

 

 

Oh, yes.  Theater of the Oppressed, it can be so challenging to figure out how to end oppression.

 

 

 

Grrr. I forgot to write his name down so now I can't remember it. He's one of the general caretakers at the office.

 

 

 

But some people really do have to work hard.

 

 

 

Safiullah, a driver at AEPO. He has 6 girls and 2 boys. He told me when I'm ready to have kids, I should only have two!

 

 

 

 

I get to live a dream. I have a career that I have chosen, and in fact created, for myself.

Others have to work to feed their families.

The tea manager fuels our engines!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Through this blog you get to hear about my work (which I consider a joy and a blessing), and the work of the different Afghan theater groups.

 

Baba jaan is re-seeding the grass at the guest house.

 

 

 

 

 

 

What you don’t see are all the hard working people who make my job easier; who help me to be comfortable and who support me with warm smiles and a thousand small acts of kindness.

Aman, my awesome driver!

Gul Agha and Wali Bhai, part of the kitchen staff.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This post goes out to all the people who work so hard behind the scenes so I can do my best.  Without you, there is no me.

My amazing translator Walizada.

The gate keeper or doorman, Jalah.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Farid the program coordinator. He makes sure all my needs, and whims, are met!

Najeeb, the program assistant. Farid and Najeeb share an office. Their office is my second home.

Jawed, one of the drivers. He lives and works in Kabul and his family is in Pakistan.

I’m Full of It

Full of JOY!  I feel like I’m walking on clouds, slowly climbing higher and higher till I reach my cruising altitude.

I am preparing to go back to Kabul for a month of trainings and am thrilled to see my work build on itself.  The first two groups I trained are coming back and I will be offering them new cultural tools for community engagement, collective problem solving and local healing.  After this advanced workshop, a few members will stay with me to co-facilitate a brand new training with 3 new groups!

By Luba Lukova

Just like a creeping vine, the roots are spreading downwards and the leaves are climbing upward.  Radical theory and technique are getting a chance to take root and adapt in a new place.  A few more rounds of this and a network of culture workers in Afghanistan will be able to collectively work together to address larger scale issues!   And isn’t that what it’s all about?  Big change, big dreams, having a big life?

And speaking of having a big life, I have BIG NEWS!  My proposal to the Fulbright Commission was accepted and I will be in India, for 7 months next year, doing research on traditional Parsi embroidery for my new play “Paisley”!  I’ll be a Fulbright Scholar.

This will allow me to work more closely with South and West Asian artists and scholars broadening networks of cultural activists!

Blimey that's a big bloom!

Slowly and deliberately creative change takes root.  When it blossoms, our static reality is transformed into something living!

So how can you support this work, simply and freely? 

– I’m going to end my emails blasts so sign up on the blog.  No passwords, no B.S. just new updates every so often.

– Tell someone about these projects and get them excited.  The more information people have about cultural activism, the more more likely it is to succeed.

– Hope springs eternal so don’t believe the hype about Afghanistan, or any other place or people, being hopeless.  Cynicism is a form of oppression and it paralyzes us.  You don’t have to believe in magic but do believe in deliberate, thoughtful action.

See you in Kabul ….

Kayhan.

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.

Mountain Homes

Three to four in the afternoon is my favorite time of day here in Kabul.  The lazy light of the sun shines on the hills and mountains and brings the small features and crags into relief.  The long shadows add depth and contrast to street life, coloring the already colorful people and places with ink blots slashing over the golden rays.

I always dream of walking up the narrow streets and steep stairways that lead up to the tiny homes that crowd the hills rising up throughout Kabul city.

When I was here last month I spoke about how Kabul reminds me of Rio – one reason being these informal developments constructed by mostly poor workers who don’t have the money to buy real estate in the city proper.  In Rio they are favelas, but I haven’t found a name for them here in Kabul.  They are just the homes in the mountains.

Homes dotting the hills.

Well, this weekend I had my chance to climb the stairway up into the mountain homes and visit a local neighborhood.  The caretaker and chef of the BBC guest house – Zabi – lives in one of these homes and on Friday, Jumm’e, I payed a visit to his family.

We started at the bottom of the stairs where we met some local children lugging water up to their homes. Since these are technically illegal developments, there is no infrastructure for plumbing, sewage, and electricity.  Families must carry water to their homes.  And, like in most working class neighborhoods, the children greet you first and want to know all your business.

The welcome-who-are-you wagon.

The little girl hiding behind the first girl in this photo promptly ran up the stairs and shouted over the wall to her father that some people got out of a car and are coming up the stairs!  As we walked up, Nouria, Zabi’s aunt told the children I was a guest from Iran!  That seemed to make them happy as they followed closely behind us.

Families live very close together and on top of each other.  Homes are carved into and on to the rock of the mountain.  The views are lovely and the down home, neighborhood feeling is charming, and though their lives are very tough, everyone is generous, kind, and welcoming.

A view from Zabi's porch. Neighbors are close and the mountains loom large.

Being a woman, I was invited into many homes and got to meet all the women of the family.  I saw women cooking bread, washing clothes, caring for babies, cleaning the house, etc.

This sister was giving me grand diva Pieta flava and I loved it.

All of the homes were immaculate, simple, warm, and cozy.  I was amazed at how comfortable and clean everything was.  I know these women work hard – you could see it on their faces and hear it in their talk.

Big sister Jamila with baby Marwa

Regal Zamira

I met Zabi’s wife Zamira and his 4 lovely, lively daughters Jamila (7), Sowmia (4.5), Basia (1.5), and Marwa (2 mos).  We took photos, talked, laughed, teased Zabi, and then took a little walk around the neighborhood.

Close up of Basia

Zabi, aunt Nouria and all the girls

Sweet Sowmia

During my walk around the neighborhood, I met their friends and relatives – distant and close.  Almost everyone asked me to come inside for tea but aunt Nouria only took a few people up on the offer.  I guess she knew who would take offense or who was a close family member.  Zabi’s cousin ran the local corner store which was a lean-to with a tin roof.  As anywhere, all the young men and boys hung around the store!

Da boyz.

We then met a very special resident – a 100 year old man!  Life expectancy in Afghanistan is in the 50s so this is a very special honor.  He was full of life and was sharp and engaged.

He also invited me in for tea.

Zabi says that he still regularly walks up and down the stairs to go to town and do things.

Finally, the day came to an end.  I was so honored to be able to share this small bit of time with Zabi, his family and neighbors.  It reminded me again of the goodness of all people and the strength of the spirit to make beauty and share love wherever it can.

Basia on the edge

My little troupe

Bye-Bye Zamira

Going back down.

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.

Closing Time

There’s no way around it.  I can’t hide, pretend it’s not happening, close my eyes.  I have to have to face it -the project has come to an end.  Well, my part of it has come to an end and now the young students are tasked with carrying on the work and moving it forward.

At the Hashemi home, the family and us guests play games before dinner.

I have learned a great deal by spending these 6 weeks in Kabul, listening to people, observing life, understanding daily struggles, seeing entrenched attitudes and thinking about all of this in light of how art and culture can be used to educate, build community, and inspire change.

Juggling scarves - easier than the real-life juggling acts managing work, family, cultural asumptions, and school.

Below are some photos of Kabul, people, things, places, memories.

Raisins, figs, nuts ... oh my. Everyone seems to have a tray of dried fruit and nuts in their office or home to offer guests. And, the requisite cup of tea! This is in Cote Sanghi near my apt and where many college students have rooms.

Kabul strangely reminds me of Rio - colorful homes in the hills, deeply musical (though private), a slide in the language, multicultural, and a general funkiness in the culture.

Lovely little homes. On the way to our performance in the women's prison.

On your wedding day, the bride will transform into a drag queen. This is the prevailing fashion and all beauty salons advertise the most extreme drag looks! Such cultural contradictions please me.

Speaking of contradictions, deciding how the group will continue when we leave became a sticking point. Students spoke about voting for the leaders and discussed the qualities of a good leader. But when tensions rose and the discussion got hard, things devolved into some people declaring that their professor should choose the leaders. That's what happened in the end. Let's see how they work with that choice.

A traditional dinner at a friend's home in a plush, carpeted, cushiony room. What a lovely way to share a meal.

From the inside of a bazaar stall, looking out to the street.

At the last women's show, we took glamor shots in the beautiful garden. These young women are so striking and so brilliant!

DIVAS!!!!

The youngest, but one of the smartest and most talented women in the group. She was also the writer of the script. On my last day she told me she gave her family the forms for applying to college. Her father said he doesn't want her going to university - he wants her home. I asked my dear sister what she was going to do and she raised her fist in the air and quoted the title of the play: "Rights cannot be given, they must be taken!" I love this child.

Goodbye sky, goodbye mountains, goodbye friends. ... for now.