Mixedmedia
New Internationalist 357
June 2003
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Hearing birds fly In 1997 Louisa Waugh moved from Ulaanbaatar to teach at a school in the remote mountainous village of Tsengel, near the border with Kazakhstan. Now she has turned her year in Tsengel into a book. Advert
Waugh brings a freshness and an honesty which is both gripping and rare. ‘Words about pleasure – like disco, fruit, wine, comfort, sex – had no context for me here. These days I only seemed to use words from the language of survival: hard, cold, wood, ice, meat, flour.’ But she also delights in the surprises that life brings – the beauty of the melting blue ice in springtime, the silence in which you can hear birds fly, the warmth of people’s friendship and generosity. And she has a wry humour that allows her to step back from her situation and observe it dispassionately. This account of communal life high in the summer mountains brings home both the harsh reality of day-to-day living and the many moments of togetherness that people – particularly women – share. Hearing Birds Fly is a real treat.
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From White Australia to Woomera Advert
Australia now acts as police, prison guard, judge, jury, and often deporter, usually for people who may technically be defined as refugees, but who have come from dire situations and who deserve a humanitarian response. The events of the past year have been the most shameful episode in Australian history since the end of the White Australia Policy. Thankfully Jupp offers not only a ‘How come?’ but also a ‘Where to from here?’ There has been growing concern about Australia’s policy of mandatory detention of asylum seekers without visas. No other democracy detains all people arriving without documents. Concern increased after the notorious recently mothballed Woomera Detention Centre was opened in 1999. It rose further with Australia’s heavy-handed intervention on the refugee-carrying Tampa cargo ship in August 2001; this gave a conservative government the opportunity to mine the issue of ‘illegal migration’ for all it could. The Government knew that no connection between asylum seekers and terrorism had ever been established either in Australia or elsewhere. Public debate in Australia has, however, been corrupted by official evasions, outright lies and even hysteria. The literature on refugees and asylum seekers is often angry and judgmental. James Jupp writes with passion and force but without the ideologue’s spin. He also writes with thoroughness, accuracy and solid documentation that are rare in this genre. Anyone thinking through the issue of asylum seekers will find this book serves them well. Advert
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War on Iraq – and related themes
Finally, there’s Searching for Peace by Johan Galtung, Carl G Jacobsen and Kai Frithjof Brand-Jacobsen (Pluto Press, ISBN 0-7453-1928-9), which provides a hopeful, comprehensive guide to conflict resolution. Not, one suspects, the bedtime reading of Rumsfeld and Co – but, hell, it should be. For more resources and information see the Iraq section of our website.
Odantalan.02 Is it a book? A CD? A philosophy? All these things and, if you want to be really accurate, Odantalan.02 is a history too. But don’t stop reading here: the thing about Odantalan.02 is just how far-reaching this project – which grew out of a residency for the exchange of music and ideas held in Luanda, Angola, last year – really is. Victor Gama, an Angolan-Portuguese musician now based in Holland, started from one question: when the slave ships took away their dreadful cargo from west and central Africa, what happened to that area’s knowledge and its music? Musicologists have long traced the African roots of modern musics, but Gama and colleagues do far more than describe a diaspora. They bring the diaspora back home. On Odantalan.02, it’s as if a huge family, separated for centuries, is at last reunited. And that’s very much the atmosphere. Bubbles of activity – simple vocal lines or rhythmic patterns – suddenly explode in riotous, joyous dances. Many of the musicians – from the Caribbean, Latin America, Africa – have also made their own instruments and there are times, as on ‘Lamento’, when a rhythmic metallic rasp can carry a whole track. Other songs are funkier –‘Marimba Pacifico’ exults in its dance grooves. But there are also contemplative, delicate moments in ‘Con Licencia’, an opener which actually requests permission from the spirits for the whole project. A tandem project, Pangeia Instrumentos (released via the Aphex Twin’s experimental label, Rephlex) and the Odantalan.02 book take Gama’s work further, in particular the cosmograms that function as an ancient system of notation. Whichever way you enter the Odantalan world, you will find it rich and hospitable.
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It’s hard to know whether being dubbed the Arabic Joni Mitchell will help or hinder Souad Massi in her bid to crack Western markets but Deb makes one thing quite clear: there have been few débuts as stylish or beguiling as this young Algerian singer’s. Come to think of it, there’s nothing to compare it to. A singer-songwriter who cut her teeth at Paris’s Cabaret Sauvage, Massi’s songs – mostly in Arabic, though French and English are scattered throughout – have undeniable presence. Pathos, too. Deb means ‘heartbroken’ and Massi’s themes often centre on loss and the passing of time. But, even though she can manage a magnificent sigh (‘Ech Edani’ – or ‘Shouldn’t Have Fallen In Love With You’ – begins with such a sigh), the pain is always bitter-sweet. ‘Passe Le Temps’ (As Time Goes On) is a fabulously miserable song, very much in the chanson tradition, while there’s something about the flamenco bravado of ‘Le Bien et le Mal’ (Good and Evil) that likes a good fight. Musically there’s a lot to digest here: African flutes, Spanish guitars and the shimmer of tablas and Balkan violins. Any pitfalls are deftly negotiated with some delicate production from Erwin Autrique, making Deb an album to visit again and again.
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Drowned Out
The story is slow, like the slow-flowing river water itself. The three years it took to make the film have allowed intimate moments of life in the village, the voices, emotions and fears of those like Bulgi – ‘Of course we feel like crying. Who would feel like laughing?’ – to build gradually into what is, by the end, a towering testimony against the dam-builders. For the dam, we discover, will not bring the water promised to the drought-prone areas of Gujarat, but will take it to the industrial zones where huge sugar-processing plants are already being built in anticipation. Drowned Out doesn’t preach, yet it condemns the dam-builders through their own words. In one memorable moment in the film, Gujarat’s minister shows off his opulent home while declaring that the adivasi (indigenous people) should make the ‘small sacrifice’ of giving up their homes with a smile, for the greater common good. In another memorable moment, the village children sing in chorus to the sacred River Narmada. It is impossible to watch this film without being pierced by their clear, small voices.
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Drowned Out is available on video, for community showings, and is
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