Adonis Diaries

Archive for February 10th, 2013

Do you feel dancing like mad, occasionally? Or reciting poetry?

Is there any connection for dancing hard and reciting poetry?

Are the two activities an urge to change, a liberation of a rotten situation that endured too long?

Are the two activities basically initiated by women?

Why do we dance?

Gillian Schutte posted:

Dance is used in protest in many parts of the world.

In South Africa, dance and song has always been intrinsic to protesting for human rights – and is often led by women.  Dance was considered the most performing rebellious/revolutionary act to display in front of the apartheid regime precisely because it said to them that no matter what they do they will never restrain the human spirit, the ability to dance and be.

Dance denotes a freedom of body, mind and soul.

It is both a celebratory and a rebellious act in that it speaks of a freedom of movement, a non-restricted relationship to body and is the … antithesis of an oppressed, restrained and violated body.

Dance is essentially non-patriarchal and it rebels against patriarchal control over the female body.

It is a misnomer to think of celebration as non-revolutionary. Celebration is the ultimate rebellious act in a world that is dictated to us by non-celebratory forces.

It is every women’s right to live in a celebratory world – one that celebrates her sexuality, her beauty, her wisdom, her body, her right to be orgasmic and free. To not recognize that urge is to remain in the clutches of the austere and patriarchal ethos.

To pooh pooh dance in protest also speaks of a western superiority as dance is used in protest in non-western culture naturally – why should we then not include it in a global movement?

Perhaps it is time for dissenters to consider what celebration and contemporary protest have in common, to wonder what such ritualized display of dissent may be able to do in a dynamic process of social change.

Dance, carnival and celebration has been used throughout history to destabilize restrictive leadership and government and it is destabilizing in that it cannot be contained or categorized as aggressive. This is not about women playing dance, it’s about revolution. You have the choice to rise, strike or dance.

Those who would like to dance should be free to do so!”

Why we are dancing:</p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
<p>"Dance is used in protest in many parts of the world. In South Africa for example, dance and song has always been intrinsic to protesting for human rights - and is often led by women.</p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
<p>Dance denotes a freedom of body, mind and soul. It is both a celebratory and rebellious act in that it speaks of a freedom of movement, a non-restricted relationship to body and is the<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
antithesis of an oppressed, restrained and violated body. It is essentially non-patriarchal and it rebels against patriarchal control over the female body.</p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
<p>It is a misnomer to think of celebration as non-revolutionary. Celebration is the ultimate rebellious act in a world that is dictated to us by non-celebratory forces.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
In South Africa, again, dance was considered the most performative rebellious/revolutionary act to display in front of the apartheid regime precisely because it said to them that no matter what they do they will never restrain the human spirit, the ability to dance and be.</p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
<p>It is every women's right to live in a celebratory world - one that celebrates her sexuality, her beauty, her wisdom, her body, her right to be orgasmic and free. To not recognise that is to remain in the clutches of the austere and patriarchal ethos. Furthermore to pooh pooh dance in protest also speaks of a western superiority as dance is used in protest in non-western culture naturally - why should we then not include it in a global movement?</p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
<p>Perhaps it is time for dissenters to consider what celebration and contemporary protest have in common, to wonder what such ritualised display of dissent may be able to do in a dynamic process of social change. Dance, carnival and celebration has been used throughout history to destabilize restrictive leadership and government and it is destabilizing in that it cannot be contained or categorized as aggressive.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
This is not about women playing dance, it's about revolution.</p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
<p>You have the choice to rise, strike or dance. Those who would like to dance should be free to do so!"</p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
<p>- Gillian Schutte

The Poetry of Creatures

A poetry reading in Lebanon.

Nath Halawani posted a review of a poetry evening at Dar Bistro:

It’s one of those evenings that make me content with the choice I made over a year ago: to come back to Lebanon.

I had promised both poets I’d make them look like legends.

Matter of fact they didn’t need my help, they were there. I already hold deep admiration to Sara Sibai’s performance.

In fact I was just thinking of asking her later on to send me one of the poems she recited that night.

The idea got kicked out by the fact that a few lines won’t simply do, I’d need a video recording, better yet, I’d need to watch her performing live.

Sara Sibai

As for Omar, he shone like I’ve never seen a person shine before.

I’m known for my bluntness, my abstention to compliment people; Omar was truly an energetic human, whose light was reflected within the letters of every word he recited.

Omar BR

I felt a bit uncomfortable though, embarrassed with the noise my camera’s shutter kept making, such noise that broke the serenity of Dar Bistro.

The scene I was having pictured in mind needed to be caught on camera. I knew everyone would excuse me and understand.

Throughout the evening, both poets invited the audience for some contribution as well, and what contribution that was!

Last thing I expected was to witness the rogue dance of both emotions and reason in front of my eyes whenever a poem was screamed out loud.

The amount of sorrow, hatred, love and peace kept popping out dandling tenderly on the coffee tables

A few heads were looking up onto one direction, others were simply reaching out for an unseen world where the poem was taking place.

I hold but pure respect to both Sara and Omar, for their initiative replenished my faith in my choice and this tiny country, all drenched in chaos.

“I won’t go to Tallinn. Ingel would have added more salt to the sauce…”

That’s what Aliide read in the last diary of Hans , the husband of her elder sister Ingel.

“There are forests and cultivated spaces in the Capital Tallinn (Estonia). There are moments I feel the urge to direct my Walther at Liide. My head is completely clear after so many years of depression…”

Hans had promised Aliide to use the passport under a faked name in order to get established in Tallinn, where no one recognizes people.

Aliide planned it all to the minute details, and she was promising herself to be walking together freely in Tallinn, Hans all for herself, finally.

Aliide had even started to coat her hands with goose fat to soften her skin, and chew on charcoal to whiten her teeth… She was sewing a modern dress…

And Hans decided instead to run away to the forest to join the resistance “Brothers of the Forest“. And he was ambushed, injured and returned home and fainted.

Aliide realized that she was not to go for walks at the Door of Viru, arm in arm with Hans… Hans has promised her. Aliide cried her eyes out: All that energy and effort invested to keep Hans close by…All thesesleepless nights, atrophied life due to the constant fear that Hans will be discovered and executed.

All the inventive and pragmatic schemes she handled to keep the investigators at bay, marrying a high-level communist to facilitate her status as a normal married person, encouraging her husband martin to dispatch her sister Ingel and daughter Linda to Siberia so that she may return to her home and take care personally of Hans, hidden in the storage room and other places in the house…

Cooking for Hans, imitating Ingel’s handwriting and sending Hans faked cheerful letters from Siberia… Ingel and Linda in good health, having some good times, and recollecting the happy memories…

Bringing dailies for Hans to read, baking fresh bread for Hans, securing the necessary brandy, the medicines needed, washing Hans soiled clothes… Every day for years… Hansd having nobody else to care for him and getting him out of the confinement if not for Aliide. All that energy and effort for naught

Hans never looked at Aliide as someone capable of maintaining a family and a house: Ingel was all on his mind.

And Aliide realized that she barely looked straight at Hans’ eyes, and it was reciprocal.

And yet, she was the one who noticed first Hans and fell in love at first sight when she was 12 and Ingel 17.

It was Ingel whom Hans loved, married, begot Linda and never could forget Ingel… Aliide was pretty much invisible to Hans.

And Ingel was the perfect woman, the perfect cook, who smelt fresh, happy, and energetic no matter what.

Ingel was the perfect match, and Aliide almost useless in the kitchen, in the field, in taking care of the cows…

Aliide had to learn everything from Ingel to run a house and prepare for the long winter season. But Ingel lacked this pragmatic mind to resolve dangerous situations…

Ingel had to rely on Aliide to come up with solutions and keep the family safe and sound.

And Aliide suffered tortures from the security services and never talked that Hans is still alive…

Hans had lost consciousness and Aliide trampled his shoulders but he didn’t move. She poured sleeping medicines in Hans’s mouth.

Aliide tied Hans hands and feet. She covered Hans and kissed him on the mouth. She carried him back to the hiding place in the storage area.

She closed the door and glued the door, and she blocked the aeration holes. Returned the cupboard to its place and cleaned the kitchen of blood and...

Thirty years later, Aliide was to meet Zara, the granddaughter of Hans and Ingel, and saved her from the mafia gangsters who used her as a sex slave in Germany…

And Aliide would lay down next to the skeletal of Hans and have the house burned down by the chauvinist adolescents in the town…

Note 1: From “Purge” by Sofi Oksanen, translated in French

Note 2: Read part 1. https://adonis49.wordpress.com/2013/02/09/purge-in-estonia-modern-history/


adonis49

adonis49

adonis49

February 2013
M T W T F S S
 123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
25262728  

Blog Stats

  • 1,416,225 hits

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.adonisbouh@gmail.com

Join 767 other followers

%d bloggers like this: