Moving on up

It has been a busy 2 and a half months.

After much thought I have decided to move forward with Creative Education. Moving forward means that I have now registered us as an Nonprofit organisation (NPO) and have joined the ever-growing fleet of collectives working in different places around the world. I was hesitant to move us in that direction as I had/have my reservations about 'bureaucratising' community work, but paper-work aside, I think and feel that more good will come from opening up channels that allow for a greater flow of inspiration and staying-power. So, after a year of working with the Creative Collective, I am happy to report that we are moving full steam ahead!

In the process of registering us, I had to draft a Constitution and gather a Board and Office-bearers to keep things afloat. It takes two months for the Directorate of Nonprofit Organisations to give us the "OK". When our application has been approved, they send us a certificate after which we will be officially recognised as a community initiative/charity with a registered number. Having us registered means that we can pool in more funds, which means I can begin to employ people, which means that Creative Education can begin to stand in its own center, independent of my direct influence. At a later stage, I will pull out from the Director position, at which point someone wonderful will continue with the running of it.

...But all of that is still some time in the future, and I have to keep reminding myself not to run too far ahead of myself. In the mean time, our work together has not come to end despite Creative Education being a one-year educational model. We continue here in south Africa as I try and secure them a place at a fantastic school called Christel House (http://www.sa.christelhouse.org). Here, their growth will continue to be fed, nurtured and cared for, so we are looking forward to the success of their applications.

I am also about to start a new job in Coimbra, Portugal, and will be pushing my boundaries a bit as I attempt to take Creative Education there. I am hoping to work with refugee children there but obviously, I have to get a better sense of my place, space and capabilities in Portugal. Having two sites on different continents to work from is great because it means that I may begin to grow Creative Education globally and also (as a by-product) it will allow for better communication between children around the globe. In terms of stewarding the NPO ship here in Cape Town, my first job is to create some in-flow of capital. For the next couple of months, I will be fundraising and marketing as much as I can. So, let me begin her: If anyone knows of an institution that wants to support Creative Education in any way, please contact me on, Createducation@gmail.com

One year later, I found myself getting out of my car in Blikkiesdorp for possibly the last time in a long while. This past Wednesday, I had to say good-bye to the children. Although of course I will be seeing them from time to time (hopefully throughout their lives) the finality of our year working together bore heavily down on me as I hugged them, my mouth barely able to shape the words "bye guys". In reflection, it is undeniable how much healing these 6 and at one time 10 children have brought to my life. I have learnt significant amounts from my work with them, and as I move forward, they remain stalwart guides showing me the many ways to love. 

When fullness marks the beginning

This week for the children was a particularly difficult week. Drug-related gang violence presented itself in several rounds of bullets that lasted hours at a time.  The children explained that they had to "sink" during the night, forcing them to find sleep on the cold cemented floor. The violence had begun between "merchants" (drug-dealers/gangsters) from differing blocks who were fighting over drug-selling territory. But of course this is just the tip of the ice-berg. What lies beneath the surface is seemingly a moving mass that holds layers of traumatic experiences that for now I can only describe as the residual effects of inherited generational trauma.

When I arrived to pick them up, we greeted each other as we always do - with hugs, smiles and laughter. I had heard the night before from a friend of mine about the gang war that had broken out. Had I not received the news the night before I would never have guessed that their experience that week was terrifying. They were their usual candid selves. It was only when we began the 30 min drive into the city that they began to tell me about the shootings. In their re-telling of the past events, they expressed the details in a manner that reflected their own fascination of the unfolding drama. Additionally, they told me about a young girl of 10 who was found hung in her tin home. One of the children had witnessed the girl pass from life into death and had heard her last whispered words.

Even to write about it I find difficult. How can express the complexity of human emotion I felt and still feel as I digest these stories. Their stories remind me of a time when I was about their age and I was staying in Ghana. We were living near a military training school and on a few of the evenings the soldiers would have shooting practice. I remember the complete and utter terror that enclosed my racing thoughts. I was immobilized in my bed, and so wrapped in fear. The reality in that situation was no where near their reality. I was in a double-storey house two huge blocks away from the military school. I was in no danger.

It was the sound that ripped recklessly through my ears. The sound of the bullets cracked every defense I had, shatterring any logical thought. I just remember being too afraid to breathe. So, when the children tell me these stories I remember those moments of fear that were only remedied with the reaffirmation that I was adequately sheltered, and situated very far from the bullets, which is not the same for the children.

They say when the sun sets they have to be indoors. Anyone seen walking at night will immediately be ambushed and knifed as it is assumed that if you're walking around at night then you are a drug-dealer. So not only have the kids been imprisoned internally with fear they are also locked behind doors after 6pm.

It was with this emotional charge that we arrived at the University of Cape Town (UCT). I had chosen this place as we have no formal working space and so it was the next best learning environment that I could think of. My intention was for us to work through their new play that they developed on camp and talk about what needed to be done in order for it to materialise into a wonderful performance. In reflection, our day together now seems like a perfectly situated deviation from a fear-full week. It makes complete sense to me now how they just wanted to lie languidly in the sun. How for them doing absolutely nothing but lying in the sun on the green grass was their way of coping. The day was beautiful. The sun shone without intimidation and the quiteness of campus on a Saturday morning nursed the children's unspoken emotions.

Subsequently, they have chosen not to perform a play. They have chosen instead to write a book. As we sat altogether, a volunteer and I tried to encourage them to plug into exploring their creativity. I realised that their minds and hearts are too full for now. Their creative expression is seemingly under strain as they continue to load their lived experience with one trauma after the other. Perhaps there is a link between ones capacity to learn new things and ones level of experienced suffering. I worry that their disengagement from learning new things, is the beginning of a dangerous dance that may lead them to a precarious edge. Should I have been more insistent that they stay focused on using their creativity?

I see them again in one months time and it is then they have said they will hand me their written book ready for typing-up and publishing. My suspicion is that the book will not be written in my absence, but this is an assumption and assumptions have never gotten me anywhere.

I'm left wondering if I should continue seeing them every weekend, providing them with what they have requested (a space to just hang out in) or stick to my time allocation for Creative Education. Technically, our time together is approaching the end, and our last two months together signal my "exit" plan which means I only see them twice in one month as opposed to every weekend.

Should I stay with them every weekend or should I go? What should I do? How do I go?

How do I leave knowing their world is hanging between a great divide.

Camping, Filming and Having it Good

We took a month break after our very successful final project, "Theatre on the Move". For those that either could not attend or are unfamiliar with what this project is all about, the children wrote, set-designed, costume-designed and directed a theatrical performance entirely on their own. The play they conceived explored themes of violence, gangsterism, drugs, teenage pregnancy, multiple partners and generational conflict. They called this play 'Neighbourhood' and reflected upon it as a descriptive performance about their daily lives.

The performance was held at The New Africa Theatre to a full house on both the morning and afternoon shows. The morning show was open to family, friends and the wider public, and the afternoon show was performed to school-going children between the ages of 15 and 18. Both audiences responded positively and the children were thrilled at the reception of their performance. They said that they felt like "superstars" and were visibly moved by the comments and congratulations they received. Additionally, they gained a tidy sum of money that they wanted to use toward a celebratory party and our future camp. Half of the proceeds they divided amongst themselves and the rest they put towards their camp.

One month later, we were heading out passed Sir Lowry's Pass to Greyton for our camp. Our destination was the Blue Hippo Tipi Village. We set out in the late afternoon and arrived there in the early evening where we settled into where we would spend the next four days. Our intention for the camp was to go deeper into the emotions that the themes in the play brought about. Broadly reflecting, the next four days would be a "detox". We practiced yoga and meditation, held reflective sessions, went on walks and ate a healthy, well-balanced diet.

I had also had an idea a few months ago to create a film about the lives of the Creative Collective. They had impacted my life in so many brilliant and dynamic ways that left me wanting to create more avenues of growth and prosperity for them. I shared the idea with my sister who is a film-maker and we immediately began preparing how we could materialise this idea into reality. We weaved together a narrative to drive the film through the creative genius of my sister's mind and before we knew it, filming had commenced centering around the play, the camp and how the children wanted to develop their creativity. 

Four days went by in a flash. The morning of the departure back to Cape Town crept in, in a way that felt too soon. The bus journey back was mostly in silence as we left the grand mountains and lush green hills behind us. When we arrived back in Blikkiesdorp, the children 'comedically' pretended that they didn't live there. They described their home as if they were outsiders who were observing the overwhelming poverty around them. They said, "Who lives here in such poverty?! These people are so poor"! They laughed at one another as the van came to a stop outside their tin homes, refusing to get out as they adamantly (in humour) stated that this was not where they lived.

Although they had made light of their environment on returning home, I was deeply saddened. I felt the foreboding charge present at the centre of their humour and knew it came from a total and utter dissatisfaction of their environment. I am still digesting those last few moments in the van.

We all loved the camp tremendously and it remains a stalwart guide in our journey. We wrapped up filming yesterday (5th July 2011) and hopefully with some more funding we will be able to add to what promises to be an already beautiful, engaging, and informative film.

Getting to know the children over the passed months has been an honour and is a continued pleasure. 

Playing in the Forest

I always find it absolutely magical how nature unravels the folds, stretching the senses, which allows for exponential growth.

We arrived in the forest on a beautiful Wednesday morning. We pulled up into the parking-lot of the forest, the trees arching and reaching in a medley of greens and browns. For me the forest immediately adds grace to my pace. I so often get into the rhythm of great speed and sometimes struggle to find the spaces in between to take respite to just breathe deeply. So, visits to the forest are welcomed always. Moreover, to share the experience with loved ones amplifies my feelings of gratitude. I'm happy to feel that bringing the children to the forest was a wonderful idea. They lapped-up all the lush 'greenness' around them. Bounding up the narrow paths, fishing for tadpoles in the mountain streams, picking up de-robed exoskeletons, hanging upside down from trees, climbing into the high canopy of the forest and generally unwinding in the expanse and abundance of the forest.

I found time to have reflective conversations with the girls in particular. The boys had run on ahead and the girls walked at a slow pace up the mountain paths. We spoke about relationships and what they meant to them. They shared stories about their boyfriends and what they expect and receive from their partners. Speaking about relationships and their expectations allowed for a deepening of understanding in terms of how they perceive themselves. Each of the girls have a distinct and specific way of reflecting and expressing what and how they feel. Whilst listening, I wondered about the journey along which they had been that allowed for them to express their viewpoints in the way they did, what experiences had informed their ideas, who reified and fortified meaning into their observations, and where exactly was the birth place of such ideas. When our conversations had subsided, I turned my recorder off. The girls then requested that they hear what they had just shared. I replied that we could collectively listen to it in the car on the way home, as we had now re-joined the boys and had also reached the highest reach of the contour path. We decided to head back down as I wanted us to practice our play before dropping them back at home.

When we reached the bottom, we feasted on a few berries that we plucked off the tree before sitting on the grass patch for a quick lunch. Some of the children had not brought a lunch (I had asked them on this occasion to bring their own packed lunch to share and I would supplement it with juice and fruits). The children were familiar with these berries and so harvested them in great numbers.I wondered, and still wonder if the 'great harvest' was a substitution for not having a pre-packed lunch. Those that brought food graciously shared what they had.

During our lunch we got a chance to see a helicopter take off which was very exciting for us all. It was a first time for all our eyes and we laughed and smiled in astonishment as great gusts of air swirled around us as the helicopter began to rise. After lunch we had a short practice and then headed back home. During the car ride we listened to the conversations we recorded earlier. The children clutched the recorder close to their ears two-by-two, listening to what they had said. I thought it was an interesting way to be self-reflective.

Wishing Mobiles

Our first session in our new space.

We fitted well in there. Our little room of delight.

We began the day with our usual morning meditations. I enjoyed today's meditation especially as it combined words with repetitive action. The words are as follows:

   I am brave
   I am bold
   My own Spirit
   I can hold

These words are said in accompaniment to the loveliest gestures of the body and hands. As always, we ended in hysterical laughter, which always ushers us into a positive space of healing and creativity. In high spirits, we began to make 'Wishing mobiles'.

Mira Matthew, a friend of mine conducted a short workshop on how to make these mobiles. We had our sticks, colourful wool, and beads all set-out in front of us. Once the mobiles were complete, the children were asked to write one wish they felt really strongly about. These wishes they had to keep to themselves. I asked them to write their wish down holding the intention of its manifestation in their minds eye. With these in mind we headed down to the ocean to deliver our wishes to the expansive waters.

Throughout the day I had very interesting conversations with the children about what wishes meant to them, how they felt when their wishes came true and how they felt when they didn't manifest. For the most part they were rather skeptical of wishes, with only one of the 6 children saying that once upon a time, his wish came true. He had said he had wished upon a shooting star when he had seen one and soon after that, his wish came true! I would like to explore this notion of wishing more in future sessions as I believe it to be a powerful mechanism for transformation.

Another observation that struck me was when we were at the ocean. The boys had taken off their shirts and had flung themselves enthusiastically into the waters edge. At the sight of this, one of the girls commented that she wished she could do the same. I replied that she could if she wanted to, emphasising that it was important to know that ones gender ought not to be thought of as a limitation to freedom and enjoyment. She laughed in a surprised way at my suggestion that she could just hold her breasts, keeping them covered with either her arms or her hands. She explained that for her being bare-breasted was "geraam", meaning "wrong". She then went on to say that perhaps it would be fine for me as I was African.

We continued discussing her ideas of what an African was and the moral imperatives that resulted in such a conceptualization of identity. Throughout it all, she maintained that she was definitely not an African, but that she was 'Coloured'. Once again, this is another topic that I wish to explore with the children that I had hoped we would discuss through the Connecting project.

There is much still to cover and so many subjects that I wish to creatively explore with the children.

We ended the day with me in a cloud of thought as we drove home, the children cautiously questioning me as to whether I was angry with them. Seemingly my silence is perceived as an indication of discord. I reassured them that I loved them dearly and that I was only thinking very deeply about life, the universe and everything.

Falling in love and Consequently Losing Control

It feels a lot this week. It feels like I'm on a runaway train and I'm running around inside the train trying to make sure that the abandoned full cup's of tea in the food-carriage, do not spill any of their contents. I feel like I'm going somewhere at a rapid pace and at the same time stripping the tracks as I race through, making it difficult for me to navigate the origins of my intensions.

The room that we are renovating is looking so much better than what we were first presented with. We have worked hard on it, but a week and half down the line still not complete and I am feeling exhausted, over-stretched and anxious to complete it all before the weekend. It leaves me with a teary feeling....

This feeling of non-achievement drips menacingly into the other jobs that I do, compounding my insecurity of failure. I have dreamed a big dream here with Creative Education and I think this week, I am acknowledging the weight of my dreams.

This past Saturday with the children, I realised how much I loved them. It was a stone-cold realisation. I suddenly in a moment felt for the first time the enormity of what we were creating together. Realising this filled me with a sense of fear. In a flood of thoughts, I clung desperately onto the idea that I knew exactly what I was doing. I had to.

I do know what I am doing....don't I?

The Show Goes On

This past Saturday we spent half our session writing letters to our American partners and the other half was spent working on our play. Their letters are so lovely and I hope we find an audience on the other side. Communication has been fragmented and we have not found something concrete we can build on. I am anxious too, that my links with schools in Ghana have not been finalised. It fills me with a great sense of unacomplishment to have promised something and as of yet, not been able to deliver. I feel something of a hypocrite considering I am immensely critical of the governments botched promise to give people housing.

On a happier note, we moved! We are now housed at:

The PanAfrican Market

Room Number: 220

76 Long Street

Cape Town, South Africa

8001

Maxine, a wonderful DIY lady called Daniella and I were chipping, scrapping and ripping the room down and up! Today we fill the 1 million holes that are sprayed across the walls and begin sanding the wall surface down. Fun, fun fun!

We meet with the children again this coming Saturday to continue with the play.

Perhaps I could also bring along a 3G stick to connect them to some of my friends online....

Yes, no, maybe?