7/2/2002:
on a plane towards Dakar [then Douala, "direct"] from Bamako. a day late and ~$80 dollars short. that's how much changing the departure date cost... but c'est la vie!
saying goodbye was somehow easier this time. i'm very happy with what i saw/experienced/learned in Mali. happy i came here. questions, yes. those will come to pass... will be answered. no regrets.
people in Mali have this custom. if you think you'll not be seeing the person you're saying goodbye to again you shake hands with your left. you do it "wrong" so that, one day, you'll be forced to meet again and do it "right." there's wisdom in Africa.
Showing posts with label ritual. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ritual. Show all posts
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
what moves you?
what do you do when it moves through you? what do you do when creativity, passion and the need for self expression – is it really about the self? – all mix together and well up inside of you?
do you reach for a pen? to write or draw. do you clear your throat? to sing or speak. or do you dance? moving with those upwelling waves of whatever it is that moves you... what moves you?
is it the same thing(s) that move me? do you know its name? does it have a name? have you spoken with it? does it speak? or is that what we’re here for? to speak. or dance. or draw. or sing.
i’m a writer. i write.
when it moves me... i write.
do you reach for a pen? to write or draw. do you clear your throat? to sing or speak. or do you dance? moving with those upwelling waves of whatever it is that moves you... what moves you?
is it the same thing(s) that move me? do you know its name? does it have a name? have you spoken with it? does it speak? or is that what we’re here for? to speak. or dance. or draw. or sing.
i’m a writer. i write.
when it moves me... i write.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
fasting focus
5/6/2002:
fasting today. glad i did. felt a bit week in the afternoon. all right though. amazing how one is used to this feeling... hunger. and what it does to the mind/senses.
felt a little less than spiritual last night. out of focus. guess that's why i fasted. for focus. and it is all about that, fasting = focus.
got a little gift from God... a taste of honey, while i was cooking. i slipped and forgot i was fasting.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
more on ritual and mourning
on 6/18/2001 i have 5 pages of notes in my journal on the rites and rituals surrounding Yoyo’s burial and mourning. they read like the notes of a participant-observer... one foot firmly planted in objectivity and the other swimming in subjectivity. or an outsider on the inside, so to speak. of all the things i noted during those few days, 3 or 4 things stand out:
-syncretism: a fluid, seamless blending of traditional religious practice with christian symbolism and song. there were also parallels to some muslim practice in both the mourning and burial, though i don't think people were aware of that. just something i noticed and noted. Cameroon is an astoundingly diverse country on many fronts, from its culture to its ecology. "Africa in miniature," as the saying goes. i was starting to experience that, first hand, in this blend of ritual i observed at my host-family's home that week.
-extremes in emotion: people really let loose while mourning. from wailing and flailing in sadness to dancing and singing with joy. two sides of the same coin, i suppose. every time a family member (especially female) arrived from out of town, they'd approach the house and begin to sob. then weep. then wail. some would flail their arms as they wailed and, at the extreme, fall to the ground. madame susanne, yoyo's mother, would often be the one to greet them. also sobbing and weeping. every time a close family member arrived. i'd never seen such regularly repeated sincere expressions of intense emotion.
-restrictions on immediate family: those closest to the deceased had, what seemed to me, many restrictions to abide by. Das, yoyo's brother, couldn't leave the grounds or bathe for the entire week. yoyo's mother and wife – the widow, that is – also couldn't bathe. they slept on the floor outside of the house. in the storeroom near the outdoor kitchen, in this case. for the widow, sleeping on the floor, not bathing, and only eating raw food applies for as long as 9 weeks. though this is only a symbolic remnant of what used to be a much more difficult experience of 9 months of suffering after her husband's death.
all this was an early and intense exposure for me to cameroonian culture. at least this particular aspect of the culture, for this particular part of the country... and for this family. a family i was quickly, but clumsily, learning to become a part of. they couldn't have been more hospitable or considerate in that regard. especially during such a difficult time for them.
which brings me to my last point. it seems counter-intuitive that a family opens its doors to so many people at a time when they would seem to need the most privacy. 7 days of food and festival – full of sadness and joy – punctuated – just a couple of times a day – with a few intimate moments of "down-time," when the family ate together or sat with close friends and relatives.
communal cultures are about support. and in this vulnerable time for the family, the people who came (friends, relatives, neighbors, etc.) were there to support them. they were there for other reasons, as well. to pay their respects. to help bury the body. to join in the rituals... the feasting or praying. but all of this brings support.
ironically, it also means that the family needs more support in attending to all the people who've come to support. to help with all the food and drink. all the ritual and protocol. all the cleaning. so little sleeping. i suppose healing doesn't truly begin until all the rituals cease and people begin to deal with the loss as it affects them in their daily lives.
a poem by emily dickinson comes to mind. the bustle in a house:
The bustle in a house
The morning after death
Is solemnest of industries
Enacted upon earth, -
The sweeping up the heart,
And putting love away
We shall not want to use again
Until eternity.
-syncretism: a fluid, seamless blending of traditional religious practice with christian symbolism and song. there were also parallels to some muslim practice in both the mourning and burial, though i don't think people were aware of that. just something i noticed and noted. Cameroon is an astoundingly diverse country on many fronts, from its culture to its ecology. "Africa in miniature," as the saying goes. i was starting to experience that, first hand, in this blend of ritual i observed at my host-family's home that week.
-extremes in emotion: people really let loose while mourning. from wailing and flailing in sadness to dancing and singing with joy. two sides of the same coin, i suppose. every time a family member (especially female) arrived from out of town, they'd approach the house and begin to sob. then weep. then wail. some would flail their arms as they wailed and, at the extreme, fall to the ground. madame susanne, yoyo's mother, would often be the one to greet them. also sobbing and weeping. every time a close family member arrived. i'd never seen such regularly repeated sincere expressions of intense emotion.
-restrictions on immediate family: those closest to the deceased had, what seemed to me, many restrictions to abide by. Das, yoyo's brother, couldn't leave the grounds or bathe for the entire week. yoyo's mother and wife – the widow, that is – also couldn't bathe. they slept on the floor outside of the house. in the storeroom near the outdoor kitchen, in this case. for the widow, sleeping on the floor, not bathing, and only eating raw food applies for as long as 9 weeks. though this is only a symbolic remnant of what used to be a much more difficult experience of 9 months of suffering after her husband's death.
all this was an early and intense exposure for me to cameroonian culture. at least this particular aspect of the culture, for this particular part of the country... and for this family. a family i was quickly, but clumsily, learning to become a part of. they couldn't have been more hospitable or considerate in that regard. especially during such a difficult time for them.
which brings me to my last point. it seems counter-intuitive that a family opens its doors to so many people at a time when they would seem to need the most privacy. 7 days of food and festival – full of sadness and joy – punctuated – just a couple of times a day – with a few intimate moments of "down-time," when the family ate together or sat with close friends and relatives.
communal cultures are about support. and in this vulnerable time for the family, the people who came (friends, relatives, neighbors, etc.) were there to support them. they were there for other reasons, as well. to pay their respects. to help bury the body. to join in the rituals... the feasting or praying. but all of this brings support.
ironically, it also means that the family needs more support in attending to all the people who've come to support. to help with all the food and drink. all the ritual and protocol. all the cleaning. so little sleeping. i suppose healing doesn't truly begin until all the rituals cease and people begin to deal with the loss as it affects them in their daily lives.
a poem by emily dickinson comes to mind. the bustle in a house:
The bustle in a house
The morning after death
Is solemnest of industries
Enacted upon earth, -
The sweeping up the heart,
And putting love away
We shall not want to use again
Until eternity.
Monday, February 4, 2008
rituals, protocol, drums and sleep
6/17/2001:
they’re still drumming in the salon down the hall. it’s 10:15pm on Sunday night. didn’t get any studying done this weekend. or laundry. no excuse but things have been a little hectic around the compound this weekend. we buried Yoyo yesterday. the rituals never seem to end. feel bad for Das and the family. it’ll be a week total that they mourn and keep accepting visitors.
today Madame Susan shaved her head. Das and the rest of the family (don’t know who exactly) will also be shaving soon. all this is also taking place over at Tonya’s place, too. her host-father (Francois’ dad) passed away the night before last. PC’s been making a lot of visits to both our homes. the CD will be here tomorrow and i expect he’ll be at Francois’ place... not sure about here, though.
Tonya was saying that she doesn’t know why people seem so worried about her mental or emotional state. i feel the same way. i’m especially vexed when they (PC staff) express their condolences to me in front of my host-family... especially because they’ve neglected to pay a family member present the same respect on 2 occasions. alas... it seems we make up a lot of the protocol as we go along here.
the family’s been very patient with me in that respect. only one major faux pas on my part so far... attempting to sit in Das’ stool (a traditional chair reserved for the man of the house) twice!! ...that got a few laughs from everyone in the room :)
i’ve been debating whether to talk about this whole mourning/funeral experience for my 5-10 minute peer-teaching topic on Tuesday. so much observed and so much to say, but so many gaps in my comprehension.
and on maybe the only positively productive note for this weekend, i wrote a letter to Omar and finished mama’s letter. Omar’s is all about the smells here. i think he’ll enjoy it. so many people to write to... the drumming is starting again. it puts me to sleep nicely. no bad dreams thus far.
they’re still drumming in the salon down the hall. it’s 10:15pm on Sunday night. didn’t get any studying done this weekend. or laundry. no excuse but things have been a little hectic around the compound this weekend. we buried Yoyo yesterday. the rituals never seem to end. feel bad for Das and the family. it’ll be a week total that they mourn and keep accepting visitors.
today Madame Susan shaved her head. Das and the rest of the family (don’t know who exactly) will also be shaving soon. all this is also taking place over at Tonya’s place, too. her host-father (Francois’ dad) passed away the night before last. PC’s been making a lot of visits to both our homes. the CD will be here tomorrow and i expect he’ll be at Francois’ place... not sure about here, though.
Tonya was saying that she doesn’t know why people seem so worried about her mental or emotional state. i feel the same way. i’m especially vexed when they (PC staff) express their condolences to me in front of my host-family... especially because they’ve neglected to pay a family member present the same respect on 2 occasions. alas... it seems we make up a lot of the protocol as we go along here.
the family’s been very patient with me in that respect. only one major faux pas on my part so far... attempting to sit in Das’ stool (a traditional chair reserved for the man of the house) twice!! ...that got a few laughs from everyone in the room :)
i’ve been debating whether to talk about this whole mourning/funeral experience for my 5-10 minute peer-teaching topic on Tuesday. so much observed and so much to say, but so many gaps in my comprehension.
and on maybe the only positively productive note for this weekend, i wrote a letter to Omar and finished mama’s letter. Omar’s is all about the smells here. i think he’ll enjoy it. so many people to write to... the drumming is starting again. it puts me to sleep nicely. no bad dreams thus far.
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