Monday, July 7, 2008

BejaiaOranAlgiersBejaia




16 June in Bejaia

Today Bejaia won the Coup d’Algérie—the entire city took to the streets and danced—old women, babies, old men, young men, students…everyone. Except me. I was watching it all on TV and forgot that I was supposed to meet S at the Cultural House. Then I was too freaked out to go on my own—entertaining images of being trampled in a crowd that has so little opportunity to let loose…

26 June in Oran

Lately I have been discussing Algerian identity with Oranian artists. Their point of view is quite different than that of many of the Berbers I have met in various parts of the world. One thing that comes up often is while these folks are Arabophone they are acutely aware that they are also Berber. “We are mixed, especially those of us with roots in Oran. We are Berber, Arab, Spanish, French, Turkish…” Another said—“yes it is extremely unfortunate that in school we are not taught Berber, Tamazight, but which Berber should they teach us? Kabyle, Touareg, Chaoui?” He continued “Tamazight was just recently written down in a way that made it possible to study in school…Arabic has been used as a literary language for millennia so it’s much easier to transmit from generation to generation across borders and continents.” Another said “I wish we could find an Algerian identity that makes sense for 2008—were the diversity and history of this country was celebrated and used as a way to bring us together rather than to create divisions between people living between the same borders.”

One thing I know is true: no matter what household I find myself in here in Algeria certain things do not change: the intense sense of humor of the people, a love of french fries I will never quite understand, homemade bread, doilies doilies everywhere, and the TV always on…

Here in Oran I have met women between 60 and 90 years old with impeccable French, noticed that people in the street talk about music, theatre and cinema, met my generation of Algerian hipsters, seen women at the beach in Miami style bikinis, attended a jazz concert at the Regional Theatre of Oran with a packed house, and seen the Berber sign of liberty painted on many many a wall…

3 July Bejaia and then Algiers

I met with the KFP actresses yesterday—looks like we are 6 for sure and still waiting on 3…not nearly as many as I was hoping. There is a bit of a divide between “you should do this project during the school year when we don’t spend so much time at the beach” and “thank goodness you are doing this during the summer when we spend all day at home with nothing to do and start to feel totally disgusted with life…” I’m not sure who to listen to!

One of the actresses I have already gotten to know quite well. She has been telling me her life story in small pieces—of dropping out of school because she and her mom moved around so much, squatting in abandoned buildings, living horrific situations behind closed doors…she said she never felt like she was worth anything until she found the theatre community…”but there’s not enough to do here, there are not enough opportunities to perform.” After our meeting this week she said: “I am so excited to begin, I feel like I am reliving the first time I was cast in a show…” She’s why I am here.

I’ve decided to stay with a new family for July—a friend of a friend whose house is along the edge of the sea over looking the port of Bejaia with a grand terrace.

Right now I am in Algiers at my aunts until Saturday (Algerian Independence Day) because I have been invited to the US Embassy for a 4th of July BBQ potluck. Yes, the US Embassy has insisted its citizens in Algeria provide the salad and beverages. Really? It has to be a potluck? They can’t provide for us just this once? I am looking forward to meeting other Americans in Algeria. I am super curious as to what they are doing here…

July 4 in Algiers


And in the middle of the classiest neighborhood in Algiers I ate deviled eggs, tuna salad, big ol’ hamburger with a pickle and a brownie. I met folks who work in various departments at the Embassy. I am going to try and dream up an “American” influenced cultural program for next year. Naomi Wallace in Oran and Algiers?

Two things that I have come to realize recently:
It does me no good to continue to mourn the things in the States and Europe that I wish were here—my favorite coffee shops for example—living in a different country would be boring if everywhere you went it was the same décor, the same mentality, the same way of life…
Also, sometimes when I go out I have this voice in my head saying “Algeria is out to get you! Be careful!” And I feel all tense and catch myself scowling a lot. But as soon as I relax and think: “go with the river rather than against it, you are just as welcome here as someone who grew up on this street, you belong here” I relax, my language skills come easier, I walk with more confidence and feel more apart of the daily tableau rather than the odd one out.


July 7 in Bejaia


The KFP began yesterday. I have 7 talented young women working with me. We created a big list of goals for the project and posted on the theatre walls. I insist that we clean the stage everyday. When we arrived yesterday is was a mess and the guardian kept saying "don't clean that's the work of a guardian!" But if we don't clean who will...so we got the soap and the brooms. What I've noticed here is that as soon as you start an action people come to help you. But dream on if you are going to wait for someone else to take the initiative.

Tomorrow afternoon after our morning session we are going to visit an old woman storyteller. "But I am warning you" N said, "if her knees hurt we won't get a single story out of her."
By the way the 3 picture posted in me being interviewed by the Amazigh radio station in Oran at the Arab Film Festival.

2 comments:

Gillian said...

Thank you again for your entry Tadous. I'm growing ever more fascinated in the work you are doing with women in the Kabyle Folktale Project. In fact, I'm now wondering if any of the older women you know or will meet can tell a scarey story about a man who was hitch-hiking down one of the mountain ranges in Kabylia and was offered a ride with a beautiful person who eventually showed their passenger that they had goat legs? I remember sitting at night with some cousins who were telling ghost and horror stories in Kabyle and I was having the story translated into English. However, I think it lost something in translation as the women and children hearing the story in Kablye looked terrified and I didn't understand why!

Will hope to hear more but wish you well regardless!

Gillian

Gillian said...

P.s. So sorry for spelling your name incorrectly! Was thinking of Tadeusz Kantor while writing entry and thought obviously spilled over!