“I’ve got something else for you,” she said and hands me a VCD. “It’s called “Freedom Writers. It’s related to what you are doing so I thought you should watch it.”
I’ve heard of the movie. I wasn’t in a hurry to watch it when the movie came out in the theatres here. “Pah, it’s the same as ‘Dangerous Minds’. Nothing new.” This was the thought that went through my mind when I read the synopsis of the movie.
But I felt obligated to watch it since it was handed to me on a silver platter. I watched it and drew parallel sights into the movie and my present. I also gleaned some lessons off it.
I am running a creative writing workshop with a men’s shelter with a few volunteers. It’s only been 2 runs so far – not counting the ice-breaker session I ran. The idea was for me to not be part of the workshops directly. The volunteers are to come in, rotating, week by week, and give updates, share experiences and observances via a blog. This, I suspect, may not be the case – not for at least a month or so, if I’m lucky.
It is an uphill task every time to start something new – we all know this. But imagine if this uphill task involved one other person. Then imagine having this uphill task involving hmm…I don’t know – just about between 10-15 men and just for fun, let’s mix it with language and cultural issues. Oh, and I forget, trust issues.
Every step is such a drag. I have to send a text message to each and every one of these men reminding them of the workshop. Then I have to ensure that they turn up as consistently as they can. We took to calling them last night when not a single one turned up. My volunteer took a taxi down to us and he was sick. A thousand and one excuses later, I made a decision. “If Mohammed won’t go to the mountain, the mountain will go to Mohammed.” We imposed on them and made our way to their hang out.
I am not being a martyr or do this to feel good about myself. I do it because I want to and I love doing it. It isn’t about being tired and yes, I feel like quitting at times but seeing the dedication from my volunteers and also the support I’m receiving, I can’t let them down. They keep me greased and push me forward. When I accompany my volunteers I see the delight on their faces when a simple exercise worked and got through to the men. I love the faces of the men when they reminisce about home, the lives they’ve left behind. Some were happy, some melancholy, some happy but mostly I see the longing in their eyes to be back home and be with their loved ones.
They take me to places I’ve never been and think of things I didn’t have to think about. They also never fail to make me laugh and teach me a new term or two. I learnt the slang ‘oil’ last night. To ‘oil’ is to tell lies. In a sentence, it can be used like this, “He’s oiling you. He always Ali-baba talking. Rana is Master oil.” ‘Ali-baba’ talking is also another term that I learnt recently.
It is more than creative writing. It is space for them to breathe and be themselves and be children if they so deign to and forget their troubles. It is where all walls come down and trust is built. In an ideal world, there’d be no sadness, no heartbreaks and no longing.
“Sister, why you take so many photos?” one of them asked. “You last week take, before also take. Where my photos?” Yes, I’ve been trigger happy. Unfortunately, these photos and stories will not be available for public viewing for now.
I can’t tell you how much I’ve taken back with me since these workshops started. Whatever effort I’ve put in seems pittance to what I’ve gained from all of them. All that I’ve heard, experienced and seen humbles me.
Hugs,
I’ve heard of the movie. I wasn’t in a hurry to watch it when the movie came out in the theatres here. “Pah, it’s the same as ‘Dangerous Minds’. Nothing new.” This was the thought that went through my mind when I read the synopsis of the movie.
But I felt obligated to watch it since it was handed to me on a silver platter. I watched it and drew parallel sights into the movie and my present. I also gleaned some lessons off it.
I am running a creative writing workshop with a men’s shelter with a few volunteers. It’s only been 2 runs so far – not counting the ice-breaker session I ran. The idea was for me to not be part of the workshops directly. The volunteers are to come in, rotating, week by week, and give updates, share experiences and observances via a blog. This, I suspect, may not be the case – not for at least a month or so, if I’m lucky.
It is an uphill task every time to start something new – we all know this. But imagine if this uphill task involved one other person. Then imagine having this uphill task involving hmm…I don’t know – just about between 10-15 men and just for fun, let’s mix it with language and cultural issues. Oh, and I forget, trust issues.
Every step is such a drag. I have to send a text message to each and every one of these men reminding them of the workshop. Then I have to ensure that they turn up as consistently as they can. We took to calling them last night when not a single one turned up. My volunteer took a taxi down to us and he was sick. A thousand and one excuses later, I made a decision. “If Mohammed won’t go to the mountain, the mountain will go to Mohammed.” We imposed on them and made our way to their hang out.
I am not being a martyr or do this to feel good about myself. I do it because I want to and I love doing it. It isn’t about being tired and yes, I feel like quitting at times but seeing the dedication from my volunteers and also the support I’m receiving, I can’t let them down. They keep me greased and push me forward. When I accompany my volunteers I see the delight on their faces when a simple exercise worked and got through to the men. I love the faces of the men when they reminisce about home, the lives they’ve left behind. Some were happy, some melancholy, some happy but mostly I see the longing in their eyes to be back home and be with their loved ones.
They take me to places I’ve never been and think of things I didn’t have to think about. They also never fail to make me laugh and teach me a new term or two. I learnt the slang ‘oil’ last night. To ‘oil’ is to tell lies. In a sentence, it can be used like this, “He’s oiling you. He always Ali-baba talking. Rana is Master oil.” ‘Ali-baba’ talking is also another term that I learnt recently.
It is more than creative writing. It is space for them to breathe and be themselves and be children if they so deign to and forget their troubles. It is where all walls come down and trust is built. In an ideal world, there’d be no sadness, no heartbreaks and no longing.
“Sister, why you take so many photos?” one of them asked. “You last week take, before also take. Where my photos?” Yes, I’ve been trigger happy. Unfortunately, these photos and stories will not be available for public viewing for now.
I can’t tell you how much I’ve taken back with me since these workshops started. Whatever effort I’ve put in seems pittance to what I’ve gained from all of them. All that I’ve heard, experienced and seen humbles me.
Hugs,
Petal P. Rose
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