Photos of me, the wedding, the church, my photography class. Once again, excerpts from my journal:
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Joan Baez and the Kigali hillside.
First class went extremely well. I’m a bit concerned about the three women in the group—formerly 5, as 2 of them didn’t show up—and their motivation to stay focused. It’s as if their minds were not exercised to their full capacity until now, unlike the men in the group. I haven’t gotten a major impression about gender relations here, but the general lack of female intellectuals is disappointing. Too much time spent cooking and cleaning, perhaps. Television doesn’t seem to be helping, either; soap operas are, globally, the death of the human mind.
I’ve learned to be rougher with the dog, especially after it kind of attacked me the other day. No injuries, but I was screaming like a little girl.
I’m nervous to see how much of the photography history and theory I lectured on for three hours on Friday will show through in my students’ work—their first assignment (to bring in 1 portrait, 1 landscape image, 1 image of nature, 1 geometric image and 1 image emphasizing color) is due tomorrow morning. I really hope they try to emulate the photographers I presented in my slideshow (Eggleston, Arbus, Adams, Hockney, Liebovitz, Clark) and the ideas of color, contrast, composition, forms, portraiture, etc. that I hammered over and over into their collective consciousness. Nevertheless, they are a magnificent group of adults who have the determination, interest and motivation to learn this art form and really make something of it. Their kindness and respectfulness—typical of Rwandans—are refreshing and beautiful.
I’ve been all over the place these last few days, managing to finally go shopping to buy some decent fruits and vegetables as well as attending a wedding and Sunday church service. The latter two were quite underwhelming and unsettling in the sense where they exemplified just how pervasive Western culture and tradition have become in Africa. The wedding was scarcely different from those that we see in the U.S., much to my dismay—I wanted to see a traditional Rwandan ceremony, not a white wedding gown, tiered cake and men in tuxedos. Serieux (the community organizer who made it possible for us to volunteer in Rwanda) explained that it is becoming increasingly rare to see couples having a traditional Rwandan marriage ceremony in addition to a Christian one. The church was a far more disappointing/uncomfortable situation, because it consisted of a huge hall filled with well-dressed Rwandans, their children and twenty or so foreigners sprinkled here and there, all being preached at by white American missionaries—in English. Maybe it’s the Armenian in me who is more used to ancient religious practice, but this Americanized worship was just an insult to the Africans in the congregation. The colonizer and the colonized, right in front of me. I didn’t like it, at all. Western Christianity seems so unnatural in this region, at least to me. The people here have been ripped away from their ancestral relationship with nature and forced to live in a way that will always subjugate them and perpetuate the erasure of their culture and traditions, even though the colonizer has technically left. I hate that so much in Rwanda is in English, despite the convenience it offers to foreigners like me. I don’t appreciate how the West has managed to infiltrate and water down so much of the world’s culture.
Anyways, Friday night was a big night for Nelson and Julia’s “Honest Voices” project. We all gathered at the ABC Executive Village restaurant in Remera to watch the four films produced by their students (many of whom are now taking my photography class). Considering that these were their first films, the students had really accomplished a lot. Their films had clear story lines, messages and exhibited technical ability beyond a lot of the work I’ve seen some amateur Americans produce. It was so nice to have the community come together to celebrate the students’ artistry; Nelson and Julia have created something truly impactful and valuable here.
In other news, I’ve been walking a lot and making new friends. Hopefully we’ll be able to see the Genocide Memorial before Nelson leaves on Tuesday. I also still need to see the city center. All in due time.
Oh, and cassava, showering by candlelight, and blue paint have all made me very happy in recent days. (Note: I ate at the most amazing buffet restaurant in the city center today—Matt, I have a gorgeous photo of it coming up for you as part A of the gastronomic tangent you requested.)
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Nelson left for the States today. The three of us spent the hours before his departure marveling at how quickly his 5 weeks here went by, let alone the last 8 days that I’ve been here. We’re really going to miss him—he was the man of the house, after all.
Tomorrow morning is the fourth class session, and my students will be presenting their second assignment. Our last class was fantastic—all my worries were for naught. All the students had grasped the concepts I had taught them and many of their photos were absolutely incredible. We took turns critiquing each student’s photos and applauded each other at the end. The roster has grown to 15 students, with some living too far away to share a camera with someone else. I lent out my own point-and-shoot, bringing the number of cameras up to 4. (Note: as of today (August 18) the class has 20 students and we’ve managed to scrounge together a total of 8 cameras.)
Tomorrow’s assignment is to bring in one good observational photo, in the spirit of photojournalism; I want the students to practice capturing spontaneity, motion and momentary energy. I’m optimistic about what they’ll produce and have already started planning the gallery show of their work at the end of the month. I’m envisioning mounted prints, music, Fanta and the afternoon sun. I can’t wait.
We’ve been cooking a lot at home and enjoying the new water pressure when we wash dishes and shower. The mouse in the kitchen has gotten quite precocious—last night it tried to carry an avocado pit (Rwandan avocado pits are about 4 times the size of those in California) from the trash can to its lair behind the stove. My right leg is covered in insect bites, and my skin is turning golden despite all the sunscreen I put on obsessively. I feel very healthy—lots of walking and doing crunches with Julia—and rested. We’re going to start working seriously on our Fulbright applications, and I will re-read Cane (a work that always makes me think of the word “redolent,” as in the final paragraph of The Great Gatsby) during our remaining downtime.
As of today, I have 13 days left in Rwanda. Tomorrow I’ll finally see downtown Kigali, camera in tow.
Wim Wenders would love it here.
