SRI LANKA JULY 2007
Nyssa’s Blog
July 9th
Today I woke up with my eye swollen from a bug bite so I staid at the hotel and prepared for the upcoming days. I sat on the beach and sketched ideas for art projects with the children. While I was sitting a Sri Lankan man came over to me and we started talking. He told me his house got ruined in the Tsunami, but his family is fine. He has a daughter who is 2 and a son who is 6. His wife stays home with the children while he takes people out in a glass bottom boat. He stood there and watched me draw for a few minutes, then I asked him if he wanted to draw as well. He blushed and said no, he can’t draw. I smiled and said, sure you can. I ripped out a piece of paper from my sketchbook and motioned for him to come and sit next to me. He sat down and began to draw. His first drawing was of flowers and the ocean. His second drawing was of a bird and a tree. They were simple and beautiful. He signed them and gave them to me.
Strangely when I look at Sri Lanka I see only beauty. The trees, the air, the ocean, even the crows that lurk around our hotel. Even the destruction, the empty decaying buildings and washed up boats I find beautiful. Not a joyous beauty, but a sad beauty. I see the empty materials, the lifeless wooden limbs, and I don’t hear them scream. I don’t see the buildings cry out in pain and loss. I see no blood, no death. I see only life, green plants creeping inside the old ships, birds landing on the ruins. In a way I wish I could pick at the scabs that now appear to be scars and make them bleed, only to feel the past, only to better understand why I am here. Hearing stories and seeing photos are different, I feel detached from the images; bodies become objects.
I admire Sam who feels so much. He sees the pain and poverty and takes action. Perhaps it is hard for me because the only place I can compare Sri Lanka to is India, and parts of India look like they were hit by many Tsunamis. Of course that is due to poverty. So when I look at Sri Lanka I ask which is poverty and which are skeletons. Not that it should make a difference, for even if there was no Tsunami children need help, they need to laugh and to smile. I’m sure that once I start working with the children I will better understand their loss. Right now I can only stare at the ocean, the clouds, the sand, and feel utter bliss.
July 12th
The other volunteers have arrived. Today we went and visited three schools, as Keith said, “it was a good dress rehearsal.” At the first school we took a tour, waving to the children and seeing the buildings. At the other two schools we actually read to and with the children. Their English was impressive, and it was beautiful to watch their eager eyes follow each word. The children also wanted our signatures, our addresses, and simply to shake out hands or wave numerous times at us. At first it was fun, flattering. But then I began to feel slightly bad, almost objectified by them. Certain thoughts went through my mind such as: they didn’t care who I was or why I was there. They saw me as a foreigner, tall, white, rich, perhaps. It, in a strange way, made me dislike myself. I didn’t want them to see me as white, as “other” I just wanted them to see me as helping out- as a person who wanted to give. I hope my views are wrong and that the children actually do see me as a person and not a thing that travels, smiles, and reads English.
July 13th
Today was the opening ceremony for the mobile library. It started out badly. Sam and I had a miscommunication on how to meet- First I thought he was picking me up on the way, then I went to the wrong school. I feel that it is sometimes hard for there are so many different things going on at once and clarity is often fogged.
When I finally arrived I had to hang all the paintings. Women from the school helped me and it actually wasn’t that bad. I enjoyed the sweaty task, and in the end, I think it looked rather beautiful. As I would complete the task of hanging say 20 paintings all of a sudden someone would hand me more, it was a never ending job-my only restraints were the size of the wall and the height of the perspective viewers. While we were hanging and arranging the drawings the sound check was blasting loud music, children were scurrying about touching my hair and trying to help me cut the tape, and heat seemed to be pouring in from all sides of the auditorium.
It was amazing to here the speakers thank us for our help. It was also beautiful that the entire ceremony was about peace. The governor said, “Peace begins with understanding, and understanding begins with reading.” Then a band went on and I asked a little girl to dance. At first no one would dance with me but then everyone began to dance. At one point a few little girls and I surrounded Sam in a circle and danced around him. I asked the Sri Lankan teachers to dance but they wouldn’t. I could not tell if they didn’t want to, or if they felt that it was inappropriate. It was fabulous; everyone was soaking with sweat.
July 16th
Yesterday was my first day teaching on my own. I hadn’t really been prepared for the art teacher to simply leave me alone for four hours with the children. I told each row to draw an eye, nose, mouth, or ears. Then they cut them out and we made interesting Picasso like faces on the walls. Then we did the same thing for elephant faces, cut out the noses and ears, tusks, and stuck them on the walls as well, mixed in with the people faces. Then I stuck the parts of the faces onto the children’s faces and onto me, giving me a third eye and an elephant nose. The children laughed hysterically, so I continued to teach with an elephant nose on. Then we played pin the eye on the elephant. I blindfolded the children, spun them three times, and they had to place the eye in the correct spot. Of course everyone missed, even with the other classmates directing them. In the end it was fabulous. I had lips on my back, elephant tusks in my notebook, pieces everywhere. I wanted to make them think outside of the every day-organized way of life, inviting three eyes and elephant ears into their minds. The most difficult thing is the language barrier. They are so good at imitating, and use to it, it is hard to differentiate me making an example vs. me telling them to copy something.
For example today the art teacher was gone, with the key as well, in davapatharoja school-so I went to the new school and taught a class of 8 and 9 year olds. Of course that kind of messed up my plan, I had wanted to ask “what is art” to the class of older kids- but anyway it worked out well. At the new school they threw me into a class of around 20 kids- the teacher had simply not shown up today- I don’t understand the way that works, simply leaving kids on their own- I could understand maybe even empathize with not going to another job- wanting to stay home and relax- but not showing up to teach- I would imagine all of the children sad, their waiting faces, and then the chaos which would emerge as a result. I couldn’t leave the class until the end- I wouldn’t leave them alone.
I had the children draw faces, the world, then their own faces, then elephants and birds. The only problem was I wanted them to draw their own idea of the world, but instead they just copied my example on the board. I tried to get them to think for themselves, to see things as different, as fluid, to see themselves as the teachers, as having power. It worked out well though- for with the face they wrote nose, ears, eyes, etc- and with the world they wrote out the word.
Then during the break I got little girls- must have been around 10 of them, in a big circle holding hands and dancing and singing, and a few little boys went inside the circle- everyone was laughing and smiling- it was beautiful!
Another thing I have noticed is it seems that the children focus on similarities more than differences. For example, when asked to draw a face they draw a boy with short black hair, or a girl with two black braids. When asked to draw themselves, some girls who didn’t even have braids drew a girl with braids. It seems that they focus on the similarly of their hair, their faces, etc, instead of seeing each child as different, as some having short hair, some having long, some have curly, some straight, some are fatter, skinnier, taller shorter, older younger- etc. In America it seems we focus on what is different. We see the differences, or create differences which help us define ourselves in terms of other people.
Personally this has also been an interesting experience so far. I feel freed teaching on my own. Free to dance and meow, to bark and run around and be crazy. Free to make the children laugh and sing. I feel more confidant in who I am- I was worried for it is my mother who is the artist, my mother who teaches and paints. She is so beautiful and accomplished I wouldn’t want to enter into a competition with her- for she is my inspiration. The opposite has happened. I feel more like myself, more like who I was when I was six and danced and sang and didn’t care about other people’s perspectives.
Another thing that is interesting is the other English students and teachers, and everyone really’, view of art. I don’t think they value it in the same light as myself. They see it as me bringing some pencils, some crayons and handing out paper, and that’s it. Of course I could do that, I suppose, but I want to open the children’s minds. I want them to think for themselves and express it visually. In addition I have been teaching a little English with the art, for example when we drew faces we labeled the nose, mouth, eyes, etc. When we drew the world they wrote world on top of the page. I think both teaching English and art are equally important. Learning another language allows one to open their mind, to see beyond their cultural way of life, and to enter into a world where many speak English- and thus it is a world where they can feel they belong, they cant then leave Sri Lanka- they can become me, and come back and teach to other children.
I am still frustrated however. I feel there are certain things Sam, and everyone including myself, expect me to do that are extremely hard due to the language barrier. Even the teachers can’t speak English. If I want to give an assignment to the children I have to work very hard to make it clear- and even if I think they understand, I wont really know until I see the result.
As of now I don’t want to leave. Even though I am exhausted it is the best kind of exhaust. I feel accomplished and needed. I love the sticky days, the sporadic rain and power outages. I love waking up and seeing the waves crashing, eating pineapple and mangos, and then hopping off to teach children and myself. I honestly can’t think of anything more important and fulfilling than being a part of this project. I addition I hear Rob discussing how he became depressed talking to a man who moved to Sri Lanka. Rob said it was mainly upsetting to hear about the government- and I assumed corruption, lack of fairness-and problems with allowing progression and positive change- because there is so much mixed up in the details of each organization-each project- and the government of Sri Lanka I have decided to distance myself form those elements. Instead I look only as far as the child in front of me. Is she/he smiling, happy-learning and respected? I see only as far as the folder I bring home full of worlds, words and faces. I see my own face, happy, glowing, pumped for what tomorrow will bring. If one looks at the individual child, at each day, each moment, each class, one can only feel the warm and proud power of fulfillment flow. It is not our job to change the entire island. If I made one child truly happy for one moment I have succeeded.
This afternoon we went to the boy’s orphanage. I played volleyball with some of our drivers and a few of the boys. It was fantastic. Then I painted a little boys face like a butterfly and drew with some of the other boys.
July 18th
Today I went back to the big school. I began the class by having each student sit across from one another and sketch each other’s faces. My objective was to get the children to see the differences in each face, to be forced not to copy, and to focus on detail. It worked. Some faces had large ears, others had big teeth. In addition a little boy without a partner drew me. I made him focus on my nose and eyes and mouth, and he erased millions of times. Then there was a point when three boys were all drawing my face together, erasing and talking, and really focused. The children didn’t eat lunch, instead they staid and continued drawing. Next I wrote, What is Art on the bored. Although it was been done so many times it was extremely liberating to write that here in Sri Lanka. I had the school Prefect in my class who spoke better English than the teachers- translate and explain the question. I waited eagerly to see what each student produced. Blown away one child wrote “Art is out Mind”- another wrote “Art is my Heart”- another wrote Art is Feeling- and drew flowers, or other image to accompany the words. Then I wrote on the bored: create your own world- and the students drew. The girls drew flowers with faces in then, some boys drew ships. This question I feel was harder for them.
It also frustrated me immensely to see the girls responses vs. the boys. The girls drew flowers and wrote “my best friend” next to their portraits-the boys appeared freer to experiment, come up to me- and draw what they saw instead of what they thought they should see. A few times I had to turn over papers, or even rip one up because of copying.
Toward the end I talked with the Prefect. He told me he wants to move to America and become and astronaut for NASA. Another boy asked me if I could help him (I assumed economically)- I told them, smiling, that knowledge is more powerful than money, become smart and you can do anything and go anywhere. The prefect smiled, I think he understood. I asked him why he spoke better English than his teachers, he laughed, blushed, and said he couldn’t answer-he didn’t know.
I also showed them a map of the world and colored in Sri Lanka. It is so small- I wanted them to see how much more there is out there-that Sri Lanka isn’t the world. They kept saying “its small but beautiful”-and I said yes….but look at everything else there is- then I pointed to all the places I have been.
Language still frustrates me. I feel that because we cant understand them we objectify them. They are not people but Sri Lankan children. I’m sure they objectify us as well- we are Americans or English- white and rich. I asked the prefect if the children tell lots of jokes while they are being taught English because they know we cant understand them- he smiled and said yes.
Another thing that is interesting is violence in the classroom. Yesterday, when I was teaching the younger kids and little boy was crying because he had been hit- then today a girl was crying in a teacherless class because she had been hit- it took me too long to convince another teacher to come and see if she was okay.
I feel that excitement for learning comes from an excited teacher. A good teacher can teach anyone, and inspire interest in their subject. They must make their passion unavoidably contagious. That is what I feel is lacking here. The teachers don’t show up and don’t seem to care. How can we come over for a week, donate materials and try to inspire while the rest of their lives they remain uninspired.
Furthermore, I couldn’t help but wonder, where are these children now- meaning, they seem to have so much potential now-but where will they be-on the street…cleaning my hotel room…or in space looking down at us from the stars?
In the afternoon I went to Joy’s and helped paint the building. Almost all of the 15 other students as well as the three teachers have eye infections. Their eyes are puffy and swollen- I don’t want to get infected because first of all that would be annoying and painful- and also I don’t want to burden them with me being ill-for I am not their responsibility.
July 19th
Today was our last day teaching. We spent most of the morning donating art supplies and books, computers and sports equipment. . When I was walking to the class with a teacher it began to rain. She walked over to two girls who were carrying their own umbrella and asked for it- they gave it to her and she held it over our heads.
Then for one hour I went into a classroom, grade 6, and wrote on the board: “how do you see peace in the world” I also wrote, “you can’t copy each other.” The teacher translated it to the class. They still copied each other-perhaps even without looking their ideas of peace has been Taught to them rather than felt by them. One girl actually wrote on her paper, “you cant copy each other” which was extremely interesting. I also videotaped them drawing. They didn’t react in mass hysteria which was good, I got shots of them focused. I also interviewed the teacher, she told me about the Tsunami and how the children are poor. It was very brief, but she seemed to be speaking from her heart. In the afternoon we were going to go to the boys orphanage again, but the rain was actually too hard to do anything. The other children are leaving tomorrow for a little trip so I will be alone for two days.
Tonight I met three American men and a Dutch couple. The American men were from California and spoke with horrible surfer dude accents; I was embarrassed to be associated with them. It was confusing, however, because they were smart. One of them was teaching English in India, another was an art professor. They were politically intelligent as well- up to date on politics, liberal-but their voices, the words they said were smart- but the way they presented their ideas made them sound stupid. It reminded me why I wanted to distance myself from America for a little while.
The Dutch couple was quite interesting. The man is a teacher for disabled children; he is also a writer and traveler- writing about his trips. We got into a big discussion about the children, copying, thinking for one’s self- and teaching in general. They were very kind.
I’m excited about having some time alone. Even though it would have been nice to see the elephant orphanage and stuff- I would like to walk along the beach and think-soak my experience here in so I don’t feel as if I took being here for granted. I want to mount some of the artwork to present to Sam and Keith-however I gave away the glue- so I may need to buy some…
July 20th
Today I had lunch with the other American men. They continued to impress me intellectually-knowing who Kundera is, having read Henry Miller and so on. However, I do miss the English students. I can feel my time here closing-coming to an end and I am sad. It was so intense and fast, I want to savor the rest of my time here.
I was looking through the drawings my students produced-I find them very interesting-however, I fear Sam and Keith will be disappointed for they aren’t very marketable. That was not my objective-it was to experiment-open minds-and have fun with the children. I feel the peace drawings are marketable-but the others are sketches- furthermore, because the art teacher left with the key we lacked the pastels and paper and also feeling of being in an art room which I think hindered the quality of the actual work. I have no doubt that the students were still dedicated and worked hard on their drawings-however some remained uncolored-and others are slightly wrinkled because some children worked together.
I have also been thinking about the art show in September. The more I think about it the more I feel there should be two. One classy and beautiful with selected drawings well framed-and invite high up rich politically active people- and sell the drawing for a lot-and then have the show Keith wants with T-shirts-postcards-calendars- of the children’s drawings- and sell sell sell as much as possible.
Personally- filling a room with hundreds of drawings- no matter what they are- dilutes their significance to me- furthermore- thee drawings are very similar in technique- the same medium- and same topic- thus, I feel the art will be extremely diluted and hurt by crowding it all in the same room.
If the show is about celebrating Sri Lanka’s talent- their ideas of peace- and creating awareness- a crowded auction house kind of event is not what I had in mind- I think that in order to do the art and the island justice less is more- and detail and making it a clean respectable even is more important. I did not know the objective was income-I thought that would only be a plus-
If however- we must accomplish both-beauty and money- perhaps we could break the room into two sections- one more for children and twin schools-full of drawings and calendars and the like- and one with only a few drawings- selected, well installed- with wine and orchids-classier.
July 23rd
Sam and Keith have returned along with the other English students. Yesterday we began discussing the art show. I am extremely excited-however, it all seems to be resting on my shoulders-which I had been unaware of. I will have to request assistance and so on. Although I cant think of anything else IN THE WORLD id rather be doing-I fear it will be difficult because I also need to earn money. Perhaps there is some way I can make money in the process-
Rob said: word for word: “you seem to be stuck between a rock and a hard place.”
July 24th
So the English students had a goodbye ceremony- they thanked and said a little speech about everyone-including Sam and I think Keith- but not me. Furthermore-they weren’t even going to invite me to the dinner. In a way I understand-but the fact that they included everyone but me seems obviously hurtful. I felt like all my work was meaningless to them-lost in untaken photographs and un-videotaped classrooms. While they were presenting their speeches I felt such love- I even wanted to give some money to toward the teacher’s presents- I wanted to stand up and give a speech about how meaningful the trip was to me- how much fun I had with everyone-and how sad I was for them to leave-but instead I invited myself, and wasn’t acknowledged at all-the teachers didn’t even say goodbye to me when they left on the bus-perhaps I am being too sensitive-perhaps they were unaware that their actions made an impact on me-I hope that was the case- either way I still feel love and compassion for everyone I met-it was a beautiful experience to work with their school-go to the orphanage and Joy’s- I am very glad I decided to stay and teach with them.
I was extremely hurt that Sam and Keith did not make it a point to tell them to invite me to the goodbye dinner- the fact that they would have been happy with me sitting alone in my hotel room eating dinner alone-makes me very confused. If they want me to be a part of this organization and have grown up important responsibilities I expect them to treat me, first of all with respect,-and second of all-as they would want to be treated. If everyone was invited to the dinner except Keith-I’m sure he would have been offended. I would never have been okay with leaving one and only one person out- when even the two drivers were invited.
In the end I tried not to take it personally. I danced with everyone- had a good time- and woke up- or was woken up-Tom- at 6 to say goodbye- it is strange working with people- living and eating them- respecting them- for two weeks and then saying goodbye-as I may never see them again. I was left with an empty feeling-I felt kind of tossed around- I was so emerged with that program and trying to be a part of it-and then they left and I was thrown back into Sam and Keith’s rules, ways of working, and expectations. I need to realize that it is not about trying to please other people and to prove to them that I am working hard-alone in classes of 20 some odd children-but that this experience is for me and for the children.
Jan 25th
Despite that occurrence my love for the project has been reignited today. ––we went to one all girls school and one all boys school. It is truly a marvel to watch Sam work- he really devotes his time and energy to the children-leaving dripping with sweat and exhausted- Keith as well- with his adorable magic tricks even confuses me and makes me smile. I fell in love with all the boys at the all boys school- reading books with them and looking at their art work- one boy gave me a highlighter when I left.
Then this afternoon I was on my own at our amazing hotel Mount Lavinia. I thought I would relax-instead I missed all of the English students and Sunils Hotel. I went for a walk to find some food and instead found a man on his bike who flashed me his penis. Confused I went for a walk on the beach. A fisherman came up and started talking to me. He spoke better English than most of the English teachers I have met. He said he learned English selling postcards on the beach. He can also speak German. He told me he loves fishing-and even if he had all the money he wouldn’t move to Europe or America-he likes it here- he is happy. He said they-the Europeans or Americans-don’t seem happy in their homes-and then they come here and they smile. I began to question happiness- why are we here- if we went to England and asked the people if they were happy what would they say? Is one way of like life better? Who decides? If a man is happy being a fisherman who are we to tell him he ought to be a doctor? He lent me a book to read about Sri Lanka’s political history. I want to go back tomorrow to interview him.
Between the goodbye party-the penis flashing-the smart fisherman on the beach-and the highlighter present and my unavoidable love for the children here-and their amazingly intelligent artwork-I am fully confused. I really had no idea what I was getting into-and wouldn’t change any part of my experience. What has hurt me has only made me stronger-made me more aware of my own actions-and prepared me for how I will treat people in the future.
I feel one hard thing about this experience is friendship-for we are not in a working environment-yet in a way we are all colleagues-yet I have felt more intimate-like we are true friends-in a deep way-for we agree on a love for humanity and a desire for equality and education. Perhaps it is my own fault that I was offended. However, how could I have distanced myself from becoming friends with the other students-with Sam and Keith. I want them to laugh-to have fun-I don’t want to sit alone at night, and then join them at the schools. I feel very frustrated-in the middle age wise-the only American(not that I would want more-I just didn’t think it would single me out)-being a part of the arty side of this project-etc. I feel the expectations of what I was suppose to do was not clear-to teach-to inspire-Sam said simply to build confidence-but then Annie said the children don’t need confidence. I was hearing expectations for everyone-and I really didn’t have any for myself-but to please Sam and make Nigel proud.
July 29th
Back in England.
Recap:
The 26th we went to three places. The first place was at a church-a drop off poing for children. All were under 4-all were too adorable for words. Some of the little children were malnourished-others cried because they were afraid of white people. But the girl who cried the most-in the end brought me my shoes! (I had taken them off to run around with the children). When the parents came to pick up the children Sam took one of the mothers aside-her son was very underdeveloped-didn’t talk or anything-however, when I was painting his hand I gave him the paintbrush and he began painting. His mother was fat and he looked like he hadn’t eaten in days.
The other place we went to was a mixed school, the children were very lower-class. At first I just read with and to them in English. Then I decided to take a few in a circle outside and start dancing. Dancing turned into singing, and singing turned into EYES-EARS-NOSE-etc. naming body parts-then we raced from one end of the sandy field to the other, it must have been 7 or 10 times-the kids had so much energy. It was fantastic.
The last day there we went to an orphanage. Sam told us there would be 70 kids, ages 18-2-but there were about 10 kids-all under 5 years old. Nonetheless we played with the children, painted their hands, brought them food and milk and also a bunch of toys.
The rest of the afternoon I slept. Sam lost his credit card so he was a little late to our last supper-and actually I don’t think he or Malinda ate anything. Keith prepared little speeches about each of us, reminiscent of the English students last supper.
I was Miss “No body told me what to do!”- although true at first-I felt that was unfair, even in jest- for nobody had told me what to do, and unlike Keith and Sam I am 22 and have never been in a situation where I need to simply take control. When I did take control and made the welcome sign it was too flowery and not what they wanted. Thus, I only wanted them to explain to be what they expected me to do, for how can I fail or succeed at a task when it was not clearly given. I named Keith “Mr. Never been satisfied”-however I told him that even if he was not satisfied with me, I was with him, and he was brilliant company-which is true.
In Sam’s speech about me he said he thought I held back a little, and didn’t fully reach my potential. I felt this too was unfair, for Sam never asked to see the footage of me teaching, he never asked to see the artwork that was produced in each class I taught, and furthermore, he never really saw me teach. He only saw me paint hands and run around with children, and I suppose from that perspective his statement would be true. I again felt like I had to prove myself, prove that I did something-even before Sam or Keith took the time to ask me about it-to read my blog-to see the work I instructed.
Sam asked me to make a list of things I wish I had had.
1) translator in the class room
2) respect
3) a clear assignment and expectations-for everyone including Sam
4) better communication with the schools, i.e. them knowing I am coming and preparing, in addition me knowing what age level I will be teaching each day so as to prepare my lessons
5) For people: admitting that things never go as planned, setting expectations lower so we can only be pleased. Admitting lateness etc. and thus being flexible with everyone-treating others as one would want to be treated. –or not being flexible-and thus setting an example and never being late-and expecting no one to be late.- (I do not say this as a complaint- but rather as what can be, I hope, a constructive suggestion for future trips.)
But do not misunderstand me. I would not change a single thing on this trip, for even the tears in the end only made me stronger, more aware of other people’s intentions and perspectives. I can say with complete honesty and sincerity I enjoyed every single person I met on the trip. I found them all to be beautiful, for who else but a beautiful person would spend time for such a just cause, even if it be only a smile on a child’s face. Although I remain in a state of confusion, of admiration for everyone, yet somewhat hurt by some of them-also a state of confusion as to what I was really expected to do by Sam-what Sam told Rob I would be doing-and why I feel as thought I failed in some people’s eyes when I was given clear choices, to stay or to go-furthermore, when the choice I made was the right, and harder one, for me-and why I feel like I succeeded, that I had an amazing and magical experience-learning not only about other cultures, the genuinely happy fisherman, the smiling children, the child who wants to be an astronaut-the girl who wants to be a journalist-and then the reality of it all-but I also learned about myself-that I can feel unavoidable love and compassion for another person-even if it is not reciprocal-that helping others really brought be an inner joy that could not be taken away by anyone else’s perspectives.
