because sometimes black and white says it better.

Today was monologue day at the Eli-Africa center. While Austin led a lively bunch of students in Parkour during sports class, I sat underneath a tree nearby with a few students for theater. We talked about monologues. What are they? What purpose do they serve? The kids were quick to arrive at this conclusion: a monologue is a speech delivered by a single person in order to express something he/she thinks, but has never spoken. (Not too bad, eh?) With that in mind, we started writing our own personal monologues in order to express thoughts we'd never spoken. The results were not only surprising, but deeply moving.

The first student read her monologue aloud. It spoke of a deep yearning to be seen by others as she really is, not as the mask she often feels forced to wear. She yearned for people to accept her flaws and not expect her to conform to their expectations. The second student spoke of the pain she has felt in a few friendships, in which she feels deeply misunderstood and forgotten. She talked about staying up late into the night consumed by doubts and fears, and about her deep desire to be proud of who she is. She spoke of self-acceptance and of celebrating differences. Another student spoke of loss and of missing a person once they've gone. Each of them spoke with a graceful vulnerability, putting to words things that are often too hard to speak. I was moved by their openness, impressed by the willingness with which they shared their inner selves. I realized: so many people have things they don't feel like they can say. But when a safe environment is created in which those things are allowed to be spoken, a weight is lifted. Mouths are opened. People are ready to speak to those who will listen.

At the end of the class, after reading her monologue, one girl told me: "I can express myself here better than anywhere else. At home, they don't understand. At school, they don't understand. But here, I can just be me."

It seems we all have an unspoken monologue inside.

What's yours?

...a few scenes from my hands-down favorite mauritian village, congomah, which is nestled into the stunning farming foothills of EXQUISITE mountains. gaaah. i can't even describe to you the beauty of this place. the bus winds up through thick forest and tiny villages until it reaches a point where the road becomes too narrow for the bus to keep going.twice last week we traveled to that point and hopped off the bus to wander along the road with the stunning hills and mountains to our left and spectacular volcanoes off in the distance to the right. the village is raised up in the hills, as i said, so it looks down on a valley below which stretches out to the sea ... a gorgeous, gorgeous sea. honestly, i've never seen anything like it. it's just exquisite.

one day (a day i'd left my camera behind because sometimes i just want to experience things instead of capture them), we went walking along and i decided to make friends with some farmers in the fields who were cutting down sugar cane with machetes ... they showed me where the best trails were to follow up the mountain. the trails loop through all the foothills, which are covered in an amazing variety of mauritian crops--fields of pineapple, ginger, sugar cane, mint, and other funky herbs we couldn't identify. the trails are so exciting ... wandering through thick (THICK) patches of jungle greens onto the crop-filled clearings ... chopping off some sugar cane with our pocket knife and sipping the juice from inside ... making it to the top and being completely overwhelmed with the view ... feeling the warm sunshine on my face as i laid down on a stretch of giant rocks ... spotting rain in the distance and watching it near us ... getting caught in a refreshing and splendid rain shower ... hiking back down and scoring a cheap and incredible mauritian meal at a restaurant down the road (where we got a balcony seat overlooking the valley!) basically it was a dream.

and all that before heading to work for the afternoon. :)

(the next photo is my favorite, so it gets to stand alone.)

The third stop on our Monday adventure was one of the best. I got in the van, fell asleep somewhere between the rolling hills, and woke up on the southern coast of the island. WOW. (When everyone says the south has the most gorgeous beaches, they are not messin' around.) I was looking out at the Indian Ocean in a way I had never seen it before. Instead of the calm lagoon waters I've experienced in the North, I saw a raging, powerful ocean throwing strong, spectacular waves against massive boulders that stretched along the coast. The wind was blowing fiercely and the air was swirling with all the good smells of the seaside--salt, fish, and and an almost-stinging freshness. Yes!

Karen, Berton, and Sonnu went to a small gazebo to eat lunch. I went with Gina and a few others to the edge of the rocky ledge from which we were watching the ocean below. BJ and Sabrina walked down a giant concrete staircase to the beach and I enjoyed watching them as little dots on the white sand, moving together and eventually getting hit by a few waves. (It was hilarious, actually. The waves were unexpectedly aggressive and soaked Sabrina, who was walking peacefully along the water's edge.) Lexy was wearing a sundress that was blowing up wildly … it was like the Marilyn wind/dress photo. Super funny. I soon walked down onto the beach. It was amazing how fast the tide would come in … definitely the most aggressive beach I've ever visited. Karen says it's because we were right on the Southern coast where the beaches aren't protected by coral reefs or lagoons. Instead, it's like legit ocean. (Allegedly sharks and dolphins swim pretty nearby.) My walk on the beach was lovely … so many shells and little creatures hiding in the sand. I walked back with Ben, who was collecting shells. I was content to just let my feet sink into the sand, and to become hyper aware of the magnificent wind blowing off the ocean onto my face. It seems there was something there for everyone. :)

Our final stop was a popular tourist destination called Blue Bay. It was much smaller than the previous beach and entirely different (Blue Bay is a calm lagoon featuring one of Mauritius's most famous coral reefs.) It was most populated beach I've visited here so far… countless European tourists dotted the beach in their funny European swimsuits. By now the sun was beginning to set, and everything was glowing. I watched one man go snorkeling. He almost tripped into the water, and I laughed out loud. We all laid out on the beach watching everything and eating spicy pineapple. Austin and BJ got in the water. The whole experience was topped off, however, when Karen convinced us to take a ride on the "Glass Bottom Boats."

After each paying about 60 rupees (two dollars), we boarded a boat from a dock stretching into the bay. The boat was small with three windows on the floor, allowing us to sit on the side benches and see into the ocean below us. (REALLY REALLY COOL.) I thought it would just be a pretty traditional boat ride around the bay, with the additional bonus of seeing the blue water beneath us. I was so, so wrong. Instead, we got to see in vivid color the extensive and utterly STUNNING coral reef that stretched far out into the bay's waters. We could literally look down and see Nemo's world … gigantic, glorious coral structures and brilliant, exotic fish swimming all around. The coral was unlike anything I'd ever seen (I've never even been snorkeling before, though I've always wanted to.) They are literally just massive and crazy structures that cover the entire ocean floor. Fish of all sorts would swim by--blowfish, catfish, lion fish, orange fish, yellow fish, black fish, a sword fish! And it was all so natural… like an episode of Planet Earth, not the sort of artificial display found in aquariums. We saw crazy coral that looked like scaled down mountain ranges. We saw coral that looked like giant gobs of slimy tentacles. We even saw something called the "Brain Coral," a gigantic white igloo-shaped structure with the surface texture of a human brain. The water was a super-saturated turquoise+aqua-blue. I was totally blown away … an entire WORLD was beneath me. And without those silly windows, I never would have known. I could look up and out of the boat and see just a normal ocean. But below… below was something far more extraordinary. Obviously I got all analytical … how many things in life are just like this coral reef? How many people do I know who have an entire world within them that I've never seen? How many places do I visit that have cultural elements of which I am completely oblivious? How many human relationships have only actualized the bare surface of the colorful worlds they could be? I think one of my goals in life, in all situations, is to always seek out the coral reef.

We eventually left just as the sun was setting. We headed toward Mauritius's single freeway back up to the North (and hour and a half drive.) I rolled the window down to stick my head out and watch the golden sun setting against the waving fields of cane. As things got dark, I turned on Regina Spektor's album "Far." It's been entirely too long since I've listened to it, and its songs encapsulated perfectly the state in which I was floating. As the sky got dark, I drifted to sleep. Full.

In all of the best ways, I felt full.

Our first destination during our visit to the South was Grand Basin, the center of Hinduism in Mauritius. The sight is visible from miles away, marked by the third largest statue of Chiva in the world. I was impressed. Situated in the center of a large lot off to one side of the (very green) freeway, it towered above us in the air ... crafted with an astute attention for detail. After admiring Chiva, we wandered down to the "holy lake," which was accessed by a grand staircase and large ornate Hindu archway (colored bright salmon pinks and oranges.) We walked through the giant archway (covered in somewhat gaudy jewels and designs) and down the steps toward a small lake surrounded by a fortress of large trees and plant life.

I immediately split with the group … I really don't like seeing new things for the first time in a large group. I stayed back and spent time photographing the scene. I soon followed the pathway that circled the lake and spotted three Hindu women lighting small leaves on fire and putting them into the water, praying as the fire floated toward the small island at the center of the lake. I began photographing and they seemed to be quite flattered (as opposed to offended, like some praying people might be.) They let me take a few pictures and I continued on my way. (None of the photos turned out as well as I'd hoped, so I won't don't look for them here.)

Around a bend in the trail (on the opposite side of the lake), I arrived at the central feature of the lake--its temple. Small docks stretched out into the water, each hosting a different statue to which Hindu families on the shoreline were praying. One was a God with an elephant head, another looked like a bright blue genie. Small kids were fussing while their parents fixed up herbal concoctions to put into the water. I photographed a beautiful old woman draped in white and soft pink linen, and a small scowling boy dressed in vibrant turquoise and bright yellow. His mother appeared to be in her mid-twenties, with gentle eyes and a pleasant disposition. She smiled when I started photographing the boy, who she held in her arms. "Sorry he is angry," she said to me.

I walked up a concrete staircase to enter into the temple. (The lake and docks are all situated below … almost like the whole thing is a small valley.) Hindu temples reinforce to me how fundamentally similar many religions are, despite vast differences in doctrine. Inside the temple, I saw the similar sort of decorations that adorn so many Catholic cathedrals and churches in Argentina (Argentina is sort of my reference point for all things, if you haven't realized.) Of course, in a Hindu temple everything is an image of a funky god (as opposed to a praying virgin or the Catholic Jesus.) I really enjoyed being inside the temple because I find a lot of beauty in the Hindu faith (though my favorite religious building here is still the mosque I visited in Pt. Louis a few weeks ago.) Religious diversity in Mauritius is incredible--the most contrasting spectrum I've ever encountered in a single place.

I felt honored that the Mauritians Hindus let us mosey about their spiritual haven. I find so much to learn from observing another person's faith ... the very way in which he or she experiences the world.

I'm happy that this world is a colorful one. :)

7/18/11

Today was one of the most memorable days-off yet. We coordinated a driver to take us all to the South of Mauritius for the entire day (for only about seven dollars per person. Amazing!) We've all been dying to go to the south … everyone raves about it. After today, we know why.

After visiting the national center for hinduism (which I will document in its own post), we visited Alexandra Falls, which is a gorgeous lookout over a super green mountainous valley. We had to cross over a small creek to arrive at the lookout, and when we arrived we were all taken aback by the view, a type terrain entirely unlike anything we'd seen in Mauritius. I got up on the edge and tried soaking in the gorrrrgeous atmosphere around … it's a pretty cool feeling to see a vast valley of stunning mountains in front of me, with the sparkling blue of the ocean in the distance (no really... sparkles!)

Our next stop was a trip to "The Gorges." We walked past a few small vendors (selling the usual tourist knick-knacks) and along a path that ended at a rocky edge. As we arrived to the edge, we looked out upon an even more vast and breathtaking scene than the last. The mountains below stretched far into the horizon, lush and green, fading to brilliant teals and purples in the distance. I immediately turned to BJ and said, "Oh my word! We're in the Land Before Time! This is the Great Valley!" And that's exactly how I felt--I felt like Little Foot the dinosaur arriving in some sort of promised land… an astonishing paradise visited more often in fiction than reality.

Our next ride in the van took us down into yet another valley, this one more dominated by rolling fields of sugar cane than mountains. It was so lovely, sitting in that van with all those great people sticking my head out the window and feeling the wind on my face,,, right where it should be. :) We were all pretty impressed with the diversity of landscapes we were seeing. One direction mountains, another direction rolling hills, another lakes and rivers, another the ocean. It's amazing how much can be packed onto one island.

The roads were pretty exciting. We keep making the joke that the people who designed the highway and roads of Mauritius must have closed his eyes and doodled with a pencil to make the road plans. The roads wind and wind and wind, constantly warping quickly into unexpected switchbacks and S curves. It makes for a lively ride, no doubt. Our van winded down through the hills until we reached a point when we departed from the paved road and headed out on a dirt road. The dirt in Mauritius is really red, which always looks pretty magnificent in fields of bright green sugar cane. The off-roading felt like the sort of African safari I've always imagined … I was totally soaking it up.

At last we arrived at our destination, a plain dirt intersection in the middle of a few hills wholly alike all the others. We hopped out and started hiking down a pathway (the road got to thin for the van, I realized, so we needed to walk the rest of the way.) A really fantastic scene sat to our left as we walked--a giant hill with a gorgeous African looking tree (haha… I'm sure it has a name…) standing tall at the top of the hill … a picturesque silhouette on a bright and sunny day. Our stroll didn't take long. Soon we had wound around a corner in the path and arrived at a large patch of trees (like a mini-forest tucked into the hills.) At the entrance to the patch of forest, in a small clearing, sat a small hut. A middle-aged man with brown leather skin sat next to a colorful pile of coconuts and pineapple . He was clearly trying to sell them, but to whom I am not so sure. Four boys (ranging from about 8 years old to 18 years old, I would guess) were hanging out around the hut, most wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, like they were ready for a swim. They were excited to see us, and happy to let me photograph them.

Soon, we were escorted through the trees to something magnificent--a waterfall. A calm river moved through the trees and large rocks toward a ledge, where it fell freely about five stories down into a small lake below. It looked to me like a tribal scene from "The Testament." I've always dreamed of visiting a place like that--a small waterfall and natural lake situated in some exotic jungle-like forest. Three of the boys walked right into the river (it wasn't very deep) along the rocks that led to the edge of the waterfall. One pulled out a cigarette and smoked it looking over the edge. I snuck out onto the rocks and took a picture (everyone on land spazzed out, of course, begging me to be careful.) Then, without warning, another boy approached the edge of the waterfall, stretched his lanky arms outward, and jumped off the edge! He jumped far out into the air before descending into the water below. (A huge jump was necessary, or else he'd have landed on the giant rocks immediately below the ledge.)

It wasn't long before two of our group members, Austin and Lexy, had changed into swimming suits and were taking the plunge themselves. The man from the fruit hut had walked over to show them how it's done. (Alas, Lexy and Austin were the only two smart enough to pack swimsuits.

We soon started hiking down a side trail in order (around another patch of trees) to reach the lake below. The path was muddy. Like, really muddy. I love mud though and found hiking in thick, orange colored mud to be pretty fun. I so loved being at the base of that water fall. It was fun watching the village boys get lost in the mist floating at the base of the cliffs and slip below the surface in the fresh, cool water.

And we were only halfway through the day. :)

Last Wednesday I got an idea. After weeks of teaching kids dance classes, I noticed a standout dancer who became a natural leader amongst her peers (catching on quickly to each taught and then immediately helping her peers.) It seemed pretty natural, then, to give her a bit of terrain on which to develop as a creative leader. I pulled her aside on Wednesday evening and asked if she'd like to help me choreograph a dance to one of her favorite songs. She was giddy about the idea and immediately said yes. We agreed on the song and I asked her to prepare a few ideas by the weekend. I was surprised (and delighted!) when I showed up on Thursday afternoon to find a group of students at the center already dancing! She'd planned the entire song in one evening and had already begun teaching it to her friends at the center.

Thursday night we had to peel the students away from the Eli Africa backyard theater, where they were dancing to the new choreography. (Girls were dancing, boys were dancing, even the teaching fellows were dancing!) The music was loud and the laughs were louder. I was especially giddy about three students who have been rather shy to dance in regular classes. Under the direction of their peer, they danced like champs.

Yesterday I abandoned all of my lesson plans for the day. The kids arrived and were ecstatic to keep working on their friend's dance. I set aside the choreography I had prepared and the kids picked up where they'd left off the previous day. My lessons can take a momentary backseat, because watching kids blossom on their own and slowly evolve into happy, confident, autonomous artists is something to which I have zero objections.

:)

I brought three pairs of shoes to Mauritius–dress shoes, tennis shoes, and flip flops. Apparently that wasn’t enough. Immediately upon arrival on this island, ripe with surprises as it is exotic fruit, I realized what essential footwear I forgot–my dancing shoes.

When I landed in Africa, I had no way of knowing what would happen during my first adventure through the sunny corridors of Mauritian public schools, where I ran into a group of smiley schoolgirls dressed in pastel blue. We shook hands and introduced ourselves. They were giggly, and I was ecstatic. I dove into an explanation of the Eli Africa education center, eager to invite the girls to our opening weekend. Loaded with pocketfuls of freshly-printed flyers, I excitedly announced the usual facts–we teach every day, it’s free!, we’re located in Pamplomousses, we’re all university students from America, it’s free!, we’re open all weekends, it’s free! And then I paused.

“What do you girls like to do?” I asked.

They exchanged smiles and fired back a unanimous response: “DANCE!”

Ever since, I’ve been a dance teacher.

Dancing with Mauritian youth is sort of like taking a ride on the Mauritian public bus system–unpredictable, loud, and full of adventure. In order to test the waters, we started last week with the basics–a simple line dance that I may (or may not) have learned on the dance floor of my middle school socials. The kids immediately proved to possess some pretty serious talent and graduated to real choreography immediately. Since then, we’ve been dabbling in genres like musical theater and hip-hop. I was instantly impressed by the kids’ sense of timing. I learned that most Mauritian youngsters have experience in sega and traditional Indian dance, which has equipped them with a basic sense of rhythm. This awareness has enabled us to focus on the often tricky physicality of learning to move in new ways, without getting tripped up with the basics of keeping a beat. (Though sometimes we work on that too.)

Eli Africa now sports a dance troupe of various levels–some are confident girls constantly ready to strut their stuff. Some are tough guys keepin’ it cool on the back row. Some kids are concerned with looking silly, while others struggle to believe that they are capable of dancing at all. But everyone so far–and I truly mean everyone–has been willing to try. Mauritius may not be full of dance classes, but it’s full of bright-eyed kids ready to move. And ultimately, that’s what Eli Africa has come to represent–positive, active, upward motion. With or without dancing shoes.

:)

Among other things, I teach theater at the brand new Eli Africa Education Center here on the island. To begin our scene work yesterday, I had everyone sit on the floor and close their eyes. I asked that everyone imagine the last time they felt really angry. Who was there? What provoked their anger? What did that anger feel like? What was said? What was left unsaid? I then had them open their eyes and share their experiences. One excited boy’s arm flew into the air. I called on him and he shared a story with us that became the perfect fuel for an incredible scene. Last week as he walked to the bus stop, he was approached by three boys who started bullying him. They were making fun of him and even started pushing him around. The boy got angry and defended himself; he threw a few punches and finally a fight broke out. Needless to say, he was angry.

Instantly, I asked for a few volunteers. Two boys and a girls became the bullies for our scene, one boy became the bullied kid, and two girls were bystanders at the bus stop. I reviewed a few basic performing principles–facing the audience at all times and speaking loudly and clearly–and then we went through the scene just as it happened in real life. The boy waited at the bus stop, the bullies arrived, a fight broke out, and everyone left hurt and upset. I had the kids identify all of the emotions each character was feeling at the end of the scene. At first the kids stated that the bullies must be happy, since they beat the kid up just as they wanted. I helped them really get in the shoes of the bullies–if they threw a punch and then got punched back, would they really be happy? Wouldn’t they rather be terribly fired up and even more angry than before? Eventually we concluded that each character must have felt some combination of anger, shock, and outrage. So this became our challenge: how could we (naturally) turn the tables in the scene so that some sort of justice could be reached and the victimized character(s) could leave feeling empowered instead of destroyed?

These are the sorts of questions I posed to the kids, questions for which I honestly had no answers. (It was so interesting being in that position, helping the kids find a solution that not even I knew.) Some kids felt like the passersby should have gotten involved to help push the bullies away. Others suggested that the bullied boy just fight harder or run faster. Most of the kids agreed that someone needed to call the police. But what else could be done? How would any of those provide immediately positive results? (By the time the police showed up, after all, the entire fight could already be over.)

Here’s where the rest of the class came in. Two kids became police officers and everyone else became additional bystanders at the bus stop. The scene resumed, but this time I challenged the passersby to create some sort of positive solution to the inherently negative situation. The first time was a failure. None of the passersby did anything. I asked why not. The answer? They were afraid. Every one of them was too afraid to make the first move. We talked about that–how just as actors get stage fright, so too do we get stage fright in real life. When we know we must perform a courageous act, we feel nervous and insecure. We don’t want to do it, because it’s the hard thing to do. I challenged them to overturn that mentality. Will you all commit to being brave for me? Being brave for this scene? They said yes and we resumed.

The second run through provided a pretty lousy solution. The kids got the courage to take action, but all mayhem broke loose as they screamed and pushed each other trying (through simulated violence) to stop the bullies and the conflict. So we sat down and talked. Does violence stop conflict? Is a crowd of 20 people fighting a solution to a small act of bullying? Weren’t they all now guilty of physically harming their peers? Didn’t the mayhem result in more negative energy, in more hurt and more anger? Was anything solved? What could we do instead?

At last the kids wrapped their mind around a simple idea–that fire can’t be fought with fire. It must instead be distinguished with something wildly different. In the same way fire can’t stop fire, bullying can’t stop bullying. There must be another way. And honestly, at this point I didn’t know what that way would be. Finally one courageous boy raised his hand. “What if we talked to the bullies instead of hitting them?” Aha! A light bulb moment.

We soon reached a conclusion–the kids would try stopping the bullying with words. (We practiced all standing up and firmly saying “STOP!”) The scene began again. The bullies arrived onstage and started taunting the boy. Soon, the kids sitting at the bus stop stood, put their hands out, and said “STOP.” The bullies paused, caught totally off guard. The words had alarmed them, and progress had been made. (I got chills.) The simulated violence soon resumed though, as the kids realized that a simple “stop” is only effective for so long. Mayhem eventually reared its ugly head. Again, we sat down and reassessed.

Finally, the students agreed on a final plan, one we all agreed could work. The scene began. The kids all sat at the bus stop. The leading boy walked onto the scene and struck up a conversation with one of the girls. Then two boys and a girl entered and began taunting the boy. They pushed him and made fun of him, determined to pick a fight. Just as the bullying escalated, each one of the kids waiting at the bus stop stood up. Together, in powerful unison, they shouted “STOP!” Again, chills. The kids began to move firmly and confidently. Together, they formed a group and closed in on the bullies, standing shoulder to shoulder to form a barricade around the bullied boy. The bullies took three steps backward; clearly afraid and caught totally off guard. The kids began to speak. “We won’t let you do this. You cannot say these things to our friend. You are not welcome here. Leave.” There they stood–20 kids standing up powerfully and peacefully to their peers, protecting their friend and speaking their truth. Bullying is not okay, and in that barricade of strong students nothing could have be clearer.

I was speechless. Even in this moment, all I can think is WOW.

[read about the experiences of my fellow volunteers here: www.eli-africa.org/blog]