CONTACT Training - Brattleboro, Vermont

I'm currently at the CONTACT Training program in Brattleboro, Vermont. CONTACT stands for Conflict Transformation Across Cultures. The program is held at the SIT Graduate Institute, a branch of World Learning. This is the first year that the program is offering a joint training by Musicians Without Borders, which is the main reason I've enrolled.

 The MWB portion of the session is not until next week.  This week I'm learning about non-violent conflict resolution through amazing teachers such as Tatsushi Arai, Bruce Dayton, Susie Belleci, and Mehlaqa Samdani. Future lecturers include playwright Court Dorsey, Hon. Patricia Whalen (former Judge, War Crimes Chamber of Bosnia Herzegovina), Vahidin Omanovic, and the trainers from MWB.

 Today was all about IDENTITY. This portion affected me quite deeply, as we examined the ways in which we see ourselves, and the ways in which society sees us. But more than that, I kept coming back to a question a colleague asked some months back, which was - "What is the big deal with identity? Why is everyone talking about identity?!"  This was really a question in response to the transgender bathroom issue, that people who are trans should be able to use the bathroom associated with the gender by which they identify.

 And so today I kept coming back to that question from her - why is everyone talking about identity?

Here's why:

Identity helps situate ourselves in the world. It gives us a reference point to not only walk through life, but also to survive, as we may need to find the groups where we feel safe and protected.

Identity gives us a way to be known - and we all want to be known. We all have stories that we want to share about who we are and why we are that person. A strong sense of identity allows us to know ourselves and where/how we belong on this planet.

 Identity is a source of conflict - when what we feel within is not the way we are perceived by others. Or what we feel within is not seen on the outside. Who we think we are may not be how or who others think we are. So then we have a personal identity, and a social identity. These two essences may not connect.

 When aspects of our identity are attacked, it influences our behavior. That aspect of our identity might shut down. Or it might consume us.

**

 My colleague who asked the earlier question is a white middle-aged woman. She has mentioned that she identifies strongly as a woman.

So, in terms of a bathroom, she would use the one assigned to women. It is where she feels comfortable. It is where she feels she belongs. It resonates with her because it aligns with her identity.
This is exactly the same way that trans people feel about using the bathroom corresponding to their gender. They want to use the space in which they feel safe. In which they feel comfortable. In which they feel as though they belong. The place that aligns with their identity.

Finding these aspects of identity that we share can go a long way towards understanding the points of view of another person who we consider to be very different from us.

NICA.1 - Leon

Congratulations, Nicaragua, you win for being the most disorganized immigration proceedings I've ever experienced. I can only compare it to the Qalandiya checkpoint between Ramallah and East Jerusalem in terms of disorganization, length of processing time, and sleepy border guards. Although at Qalandiya, the turnstiles meant there had to be some kind of line formed, some kind of order. The Managua airport in Nicaragua had no stanchions, no authorities trying to guide people to order (and no young, bored soldiers standing around with large guns) - just clusters of visitors and residents, all trying to get ahead of one another. It slightly, but only ever-so, diminished my excitement about landing, for the first time, in Central America. Once you were actually in front of an immigration official, things were easy. You presented your passport, your declaration form, and your $10 visa fee (which an American man in line behind me seemed to think was a ridiculous charge); they took a picture of you and sent you on your way.

One of the first things I noticed about Nicaragua was the smell: that miasma of acrid smoke; of something burning that probably wasn't intended to be disposed of in such a way. The smell immediately took me back to landing in Uganda in 2009. It was the same smell. And it was one that I would encounter continuously throughout the next 9 days in Nicaragua.

Another thing you notice immediately about Nicaragua: no one speaks English. Information booth at the airport? Barely. Immigration official? Nope. Security guard? Nope. Guy outside directing traffic? Nope. Other airport workers? Nope. Oh silly me, who hasn't traveled beyond Canada and the USA in the last four years, don't you remember that people speak different languages in different countries?! Of course I knew there would be a language barrier, but I thought that there would be some English spoken considering how many tourists are in Nica! Oh how wrong I was. Not that it was a bad thing. I was able to put to use the year and a half of Spanish I took in my Undergraduate degree, and which I was thankful for taking every single day of my trip. Being (mostly) fluent in French also helped.

So then, a word to the wise: apparently you can't just catch a taxi in front of the airport. Well you can and you can't. It has to be a certified taxi...maybe? I'm not 100% sure on this one, since some people were climbing into taxis left right and center; but when we asked to be taken to the UCA Bus Terminal, we were turned away. Finally, one taxi driver motioned to us to leave the airport grounds and he would pick us up on the street, which he did!

Now, I'm not sure if I was aware of this fact before I landed in Nica or not, but Nicaragua is the second-poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. And you see it. On the fifteen minute drive from the airport to the bus terminal, I was again reminded of my time in Uganda: dirt roads, slums, scruffy kids running around shirtless and barefoot, stray dogs and chickens everywhere, metal-fronted shops selling chips/cigarettes/snacks/sodas, tons of trash (not that this list of observable poverty is all there is to observe in either Uganda or Nicaragua, by any means).

My husband and I were slightly worried when our taxi driver picked up two other people en route to the bus terminal, but he dropped them off quickly. He pulled over to pick up two others, but after less than half a second of interaction with these men, he zoomed away. Apparently he knew immediately that they were drunk. A rather astute fellow!

Managua UCA bus terminal, like all the bus terminals in Nicaragua, has 14/15-passenger mini-vans for expreso trips to your destination - as in, not stopping every fifty feet to pick up/drop off a passenger - and large school buses, or chicken buses that cost less but cram as many people on as possible and constantly stop and start. We stood in line for an expreso bus to Leon, but considering it was Christmas Day and there were a solid thirty people ahead of us in line, we figured this would take a while. We befriended a young Nicaraguan woman beside us who, fortunately, spoke English. When a man made an announcement that he would drive to Leon if he got fifteen passengers to pay 80 Cordobas (up from the usual C60), she translated for us. Interestingly, almost no one (besides us, our young friend, and another tourist couple who had already been waiting over an hour for an expreso bus to show up) jumped at this opportunity. The regular price for the bus was 60 Cordobas, just over $2. An extra 20 Cordobas is ~ $.75, and yet Nicaraguans standing in line didn't even budge when the offer was made. For us, an extra $0.75 is nothing. To a regular Nicaraguan, perhaps it's an unaffordable luxury.

In any event, we made it to Leon where we checked into our room at El Nancite Guesthouse, a lovely hotel with two beautiful inner courtyards. Nearly every building we entered in Nicaragua - homes, hotels, restaurants, bars, etc. - had an inner courtyard filled with plants, trees, flowers, maybe a fountain and/or hammock. So gorgeous. The owner of El Nancite is John Corronna, a New Yorker from Brooklyn who is married to a Nicaraguan woman and who has lived in Nica for the last 16 years. He's a straight-shot kind of guy. Really laid-back and easy-going, quite helpful, very friendly, and as candid as they come.

Our time in Leon was spent eating at an amazing French bakery, Pan y paz, checking out the beaches Poneloyas and Las Penitas, Volcano Boarding with Quetzaltrekkers, and wandering around the town square trying to make sense of a bizarre tradition whereupon kids dressed up as a tall Spanish lady and a short Nicaraguan man dance to random beatings of a snare drum, played by other kids. We easily could have spent another day in Leon, especially to check out some of the museums and art galleries, but didn't think we had time.

The (extremely windy) day at the beach was somewhat tainted when my iPhone took an unexpected dip into the salty waters of the Pacific Ocean. Fortunately we had a yummy dinner (plus a bag of dry rice which would encase my phone for the next nine days) at Barca de Oro to make up for it. The bus ride home was an interesting affair. I ran to catch the bus and ask the driver to wait for my husband, who was inside at the restaurant paying. In the time it took the bus to turn around, my husband climbed safely aboard. But the bus was absolutely jam-packed; it was one of the last buses of the evening, and beachgoers were trying to get back into Leon. Seeing as my husband and I were practically hanging out the open door of the bus, the driver scooted his seat forward and indicated that we should clamber behind him and wedge ourselves between his seat and the first passenger seat of the bus. There, we had a stellar view of just how crammed the bus was: 3-4 people to a seat, 70 people in the aisle, crying babies. Just as we started down the road and I thought "We can't possibly fit anymore people in here", the driver stops to let on about 15 more passengers, mostly sopping wet kids who pushed their way into the interior of the bus. As I came to find out, personal space seems to be somewhat of an option in Nicaragua...

Volcano boarding was a really fun way to spend a day, and I highly recommend Quetzaltrekkers! We had a really nice guide from Sweden, Arvin, who is volunteering in Nicaragua. We took a truck ride to the base of Cerro Negro Volcano, and then did a 45-minute hike up a rocky, dusty path to the top. The views from the top were really amazing - Nicaragua is definitely a beautiful country! I had a completely different idea of what volcano boarding would entail: I imagined boarding down right next to red-hot lava. Apparently I don't know much about volcanoes or how they work. Instead, we rode wooden boards down a steep hill of dry volcanic stone and ash, resulting in lots of rocks in my bra, underwear, eyes, mouth, and hair. But it was fun! Then we hiked up and did it all again. This time, though, we took a little detour to check out some steaming sulphuric vents in the side of the volcano. Very cool.

Tip: if you go volcano boarding, absolutely bring two bandannas - one to cover your mouth and the other to cover your hair. As I only had one bandanna, I chose to cover my mouth, which meant my hair got full of rocks and dust. Despite washing it three times in succession, I was still picking rocks off my scalp several days later.

Embracing the Infidel: Stories of Muslim Migrants on the Journey West by Behzad Yaghmaian
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This book was a wonderful combination of heart-wrenching stories and straight-forward statistics. Yaghmaian does a great job of combining the lives of the people he meets, with concrete information about the migration of thousands upon thousands of human beings. You cannot believe how these people have taken the journey that they have, how they live the way they do, and how they find strength and hope to keep going.

On my own previous trips to Europe, I have seen many of the people described by Yaghmaian - Africans selling knock off purses, watches, bracelets, etc. Street cart vendors. And I'm ashamed to say that I never gave them, or their stories, much thought. But who knows where these people came from and what caused them to take on this transient and fragile lifestyle?

We are all born into a set of circumstances, some good and some bad - for me, this book helps remind me that I am no better a human just because of where I was born and the circumstances that led me to my life today. And if I can help someone out, I should.

**

"We will never be normal...Of course we are different from other people. We live a different life. Normal is the way the majority lives. We are not a part of that. We hope to be normal, have a family and live the life of a normal person, but we cannot. I am young, only twenty-two years old. I see other young people in the rest of the world. I know how they live, how they look at the world. But I cannot be like them. I am not normal. I have been on the road with no return. The return to normal is not possible. See, some migrants die in the sea. Others die crossing the mountains. There are the fortunate ones. They die with no pain. The rest live to see their slow death. Dying takes different forms. Some shoot heroin. Some go with a baba. They are all the same, those who beg in Patras and those who go with a baba in Athens. Look them in the eye. You will see the same pain of not achieving the goal, not reaching the destination. You change when you go with men for money. You become a different person. You die."

"I knew the difficulties of the journey...What I did not know was that the journey changes you. You can never be who you once were even if you return to the same conditions. The journey transforms you. The person you were when you picked up your bag for the road dies. You are a different person when you put your bag on the ground."

This quote^ really opened my eyes. Again, going back to the immigrant sellers I have encountered on my trips to Europe, I did not give a thought to what led them to that place and time. Who knows what they have seen and done in order to get where they are? How many days they had to trek through forests or deserts, or mountains, without proper shelter, clothing, or food? How could such a journey NOT change a person? If we could look out for just one minute from the eyes of such a person, what would we see?

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Classical Musician at a Rock Show

I had the unbelievably good fortune to attend two brilliant performances today (Sunday, March 11, 2012 - although this will likely be posted on a different day). The first performance was of violinist Ray Chen and pianist Julio Elizalde performing the following works:

Mozart: Sonata for Violin and Piano in B flat major, K 454; Brahms: Sonata for Violin and Piano no 3 in D minor, Op. 108; Ysaÿe: Sonatas (6) for Violin solo, Op. 27: no 2 in A minor "Obsession"; Saint-Saëns: Havanaise for Violin and Orchestra in E major, Op. 83; and Saint-Saëns: Introduction and Rondo capriccioso in A minor, Op. 28. Chen and Elizalde played one encore: John Williams' "Schinder's List".

Chen was vibrant onstage and moved freely and passionately. Technically he is astonishingly precise, but he also featured a mature musicality. The Brahms was the centerpiece for me; the second movement was played with an unbridled emotion that left my heartstrings tugged at every phrase. The concert could have consisted of only that movement and I would have been left satisfied. Fortunately, I was treated to the full Brahms Sonata as well as the other piece that captured me: Ysaÿe's Solo Sonata no.2 ("Obsession").

The Q&A with the artists after the show was slightly disappointing as the performers did not speak as articulately as they played. Then again, they had just performed an intense concert and were likely tired...

But the concert I attended this evening was one that will remain in my mind as one of my fondest musical experiences. In the fulfillment of a dream that was been over 10 years in the making, I finally saw my favourite band on the planet: RADIOHEAD.

I first started listening to Radiohead when I bought the album Big Shiny Tunes 2 in 1997, which was a compilation of popular hits from that year. The Radiohead song featured was "Paranoid Android". I fell in love with the rich texture of the music, the contrasting sections, the funky lyrics - I would listen to that song over and over again. Maybe a year later, when my parents finally got cable and I started watching MuchMusic, did I receive exposure to Radiohead's over songs. Through a Spotlight on Radiohead, I saw several of their music videos including "High and Dry", "Street Spirit" and "Just". A fan was born. I went out and bought The Bends and OK Computer immediately and listened to them non-stop.

When Radiohead came out with Kid A and then Amnesiac, my mind was blown. "Everything in Its Right Place" entranced me the moment I heard the opening notes. I remember listening to those CDs in my Discman and staring out a van window at a changing landscape as my family drove across Canada to visit relatives.

Update/Downdate

Well, it's certainly been a minute, hasn't it? What's happened since March 2012...let's see: I've played a lot of music - Masters recitals in April, 2012; May, 2013; February, 2014; chamber music concerts galore with groups at UMKC, Regina Summer Strings, Black House Collective, Classical Revolution KC, etc; I got engaged, October 2012; I gained family - welcoming my little nephew, Noah, in October 2012; I lost family - bidding adieu to my wonderful Aunt Anne in September 2014; I gained friends - too many to name!; I lost friends - accepting reality when my friend and talented colleague Matt Siegel fell from a university parking garage in October, 2014; I got married on May 10, 2013, and organized a celebratory bash with family and friends a year later; I've been to familiar places (Regina, Calgary, Ottawa, Tenaga, PEI) and new places (NYC, Chicago, Montreal, Valparaiso, Hartford, Portland); and now I'm trying to make life work as a freelance musician. There seems like a lot to say and, at the same time, nothing to say at all. Life is life, and life has kept on going despite me not making huge announcements to the world via this blog. Is my commentary on what's happening out there important? Do my travel experiences and stories matter? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe people who blog really just do it for themselves...and anyone who happens upon this little online journal-of-sorts gets a brief peek inside my life before moving back into their own world. Blah blah blah Ciao for now

The Struggle for Power over Women's Fertility

I told myself when I moved to the United States that I would not get involved in politics. Well, after living here for just over 6 months and with an election on the way, it's been nearly impossible to avoid the utter bullsh*t and GONG SHOW that is American politics!

The Republican race is a baffling trio of Newt Gingrich, Rick Santorum, and Mitt Romney (and Ron Paul...but it seems he's mostly out of the contest at this point). These three men are all self-described "Christians". Their behaviour remains very un-Christian, however, with Gingrich having married three times; Santorum, a Catholic, is a war-monger intent on keeping troops in Iraq and Afghanistan; Romney, despite being a Mormon, demonstrates how un-Jesus-like he is by being unconcerned for the poor.

But these men have been putting their "Christianity" in the limelight in order to win over the extreme right-wing Republicans and hardcore Christians of America. All the candidates oppose same-sex marriage (Santorum likens homosexuality to bestiality and pedophilia). Santorum is so anal (pun intended) that he goes so far to say that private sexual acts between married couples should mostly be for the purpose of pro-creation, and that the use of contraception leads to too many sexual liberties. Gingrich and Santorum oppose a woman's right to choose to terminate a pregnancy. (Super creepy aside: when Santorum's wife suffered a miscarriage, Santorum and his wife brought the dead child - Gabriel - home so their other children could "meet" it...W.T.F.?!)

What has really got my panties (white with black butterflies...someone please let Wayne Toews know...I digress...) in a twist are the efforts of the Republican party to block Obama's Affordable Care Act which basically provides birth control to women for free beginning in 2012. I do not understand why old, white, Christian men want so badly to have power over a woman's ability to control her own fertility!

Republicans want to make abortion illegal, cut funding to Planned Parenthood, make birth control illegal or highly regulated (in the case of Santorum). I was absolutely disgusted when I read a recent article where a Conservative radio host called a young university student a "slut" because she believed that birth control should be covered by health insurance at religious institutions:

www.thestar.com/news/world/article/1140095--radio-host-rush-limbaugh-labels-woman-a-slut-for-asking-birth-control-to-be-paid-for

Here's the thing: men want to have sex with women. That's a fact. Many men and women have sex outside of marriage. That's a fact. To avoid getting women pregnant, men may use a condom that they can purchase at a local drugstore. That's a fact. When a man uses a condom, he is responsibly taking control of his own fertility. Although men may purchase condoms for a small cost, free condoms can often be found at local health clinics, doctor's offices, etc. At times, however, a man and a woman (husband and wife, even) may want to have sex without a condom, but they also don't want to have a child. Or, perhaps a man and a woman may want to have sex but a condom is not available. Fortunately, a woman has an option of taking a hormone that will prevent her from becoming pregnant if she has unprotected sex. If men can take control of their own fertility, and do so for free, why are people wanting to deny this right to women?

Rick Santorum has five children. That means he has had sex at least five times without using any kind of contraception or birth control. I wonder if he has only ever had sex five times in his life. Does Rick Santorum view his wife as merely a vessel for carrying his children? Is Karen Santorum allowed to exercise control over her own fertility? (Perhaps not, as she recently had another child, at the age of 48....did they seriously plan that, or were they have unprotected sex *God forbid*?!)

I'm frustrated that I'm not expressing myself very articulately right now. My basic point is this: men and women have sex, and they don't always do it to create a child. If men can use condoms (and get them for free at times), why shouldn't women be able to obtain birth control for free, or for subsidized cost? And why are old, white men the ones who are making this decision for women?!

If by using birth control women are preventing life from starting and taking too many sexual liberties, then why should men be allowed to use condoms? Is that not also preventing life from starting? And what about having a vasectomy?!

I'm just so disgusted by this whole state of affairs! Of course this leads right into a discussion on religion, and religion + state which should be completely disallowed. Unfortunately, Rick Santorum is more than ready to drag religion back into the White House. It will be a sad day on this planet if this horse-blinder-wearing Bible-thumper ever gets into office...

http://campaignstops.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/03/01/leaps-of-faith/

STNA

Two years ago, I traveled to South Africa as an International Youth Ambassador with Toronto-based NGO: LetsStopAIDS. At the time, LetsStopAIDS was on a special project, entitled Spread Trees Not AIDS. The mission was to the raise awareness about the environment and HIV/AIDS.

Along with a fellow ambassador, I was placed in the small community of oSizweni, which is just outside of Newcastle in North Western KwaZulu-Natal. We were working at a community centre called KwaHilda. Over the course of several weeks, we held workshops on HIV/AIDS, the environment, leadership, sexual health, and hosted a community clean-up where we filled an entire dumpster with at-capacity garbage bags.

Two of our big initiatives when we left were: to start a community garden to feed not only the children who attended the community centre of KwaHilda, but members of a support group for People Living With HIV/AIDS; and to start a Youth Executive that would be responsible for giving talks in the community on HIV/AIDS awareness.

In order to start the garden, we had an enormous plot of land tilled.



This land used to be a garbage dump and the soil was pretty much ruined. Fortunately, KwaHilda community centre produced a lot of vegetable waste that was able to be composted and used as fertilizer. Additionally, we had donations of manure from several local farmers.

Although we worked hard, we were only able to dig one or two beds for future gardens. We had to explain to KwaHilda how they should proceed if they wanted to continue with this project.

To be honest, I really didn't know how the garden would end up working out. In South Africa, projects that are sustainable but don't churn out results immediately are not necessarily looked after. People in these rural communities are starving and have no money. They want results right away! So to leave our garden in such an early stage, not even having planted anything, seemed to be a bit of a gamble.

Well, three months after I left, the garden looked like this:



I couldn't believe how much work these guys had done!! I was almost brought to tears when I saw that picture.

One year later, summer of 2010, the garden looked like this:






This year, summer of 2011, there are two International Youth Ambassadors back at KwaHilda for 5 weeks! Here is a recent video of the garden I helped to start.

I'm so happy with the results of this garden...The KwaHilda Community Centre in South Africa has done an absolutely knock-out job of keeping up these gardens. I'm so proud of them. I can't believe this little project on a plot of land on the other side of the world that B.H-C and I started two years ago is still bearing fruit.

Puts a giant smile on my face :)