clownswithoutborders.org

Tour III: Grand Goave, Leogange and Les Cayes
September 4-25, 2010

Volunteer Artists: Tim Cunningham, Jan Damm, Selena McMahan and Anna Zastrow

Partner Organization: Terre des Hommes

Samantha Lee and her documentary film team joined this project.

CWB returns to Haiti,  this time to work with Terre des Hommes. The project will be mainly focused on workshops and collaborative performances with local youth in Grand Goave and Les Cayes.

Tim’s Journal

I’m standing at the inner gate of the clinic compound where I am working for two weeks to help teach and run a research project called photovoice.  Today, while my study participants are out taking photographs I was invited to participate in a weekly health class for young adults (18-22) that the clinic I’m working for holds at a neighboring tent camp.  The day prior there was a fatal incident at this camp, so security is more alert and folks are more tense than usual. I am required to be escorted by security to leave my compound and enter this camp.

The camp is surrounded by cinderblock walls laced with broken bottles and razor wire.  There is only one gate by which to enter and exit.  Just inside of the gate and next to the armed guard’s shelter are three giant water bladders.  Each bladder gets depleted and filled daily; this is the only water source for the 2,000-3,000 people living within these walls.  Tents line up with barely a shoulder width distance between each other, rows and rows of green, grey and white. Splotches of blue stand out amongst the tents; this marks the tents that have developed holes and leaks.  The blue tarps are temporary fixes for these “temporary” homes that have been in place since January.

Beyond the bladders is a line of razor wire, coiled and sitting about 3 feet off of the ground.  It is backed by one of the perimeter walls of the camp and it encircles a small plastic tarp shelter.  Beneath the shelter are 5 or six benches and a chalkboard.  My escort opens up the razor line for me and I’m in the open-air camp classroom.

I sneak into the back of the class to listen to the learners discussing how to develop a business model and organizational structure for new entrepreneurs.  Each week members of the course are responsible for leading discussions on certain topics. After the discussions, the teacher and classmates critique the discussion regarding content and discourse.  The business discussion ends and another student then passes out condoms to each classmate and booklets on preventing STI’s and TB.  Somehow the conversation turns into a heated discussion on what a comedian is.  My Kreyol is remedial at best and so I missed how the discussion went from start-up businesses to safe sex and then to “what is funny?” and how to define a comedian.

“Speaking of comedians” said the MD facilitating the class, “now maybe we should let Tim speak.”

I was asked to come to the class to speak about the importance of psychosocial support, play and laughter when it comes to mental health and a more holistic view of health.  Like I said, my Kreyol is far from adequate to give a dissertation on anything, so up until that point, I had no idea how I would share my opinions.

With a stack of condoms in hand I walk into the middle of the room, start to introduce myself, trip, fall and condoms fly everywhere.  I pick them up try again and then trip again, this time bigger.  With each interruption the group is laughing louder and louder.  I tell the group that I used to think that maybe I was a comedian, but after the discussion, I realized that might not be the case–more laughter.  The bit then turns into me trying to figure out what condoms are for, I mistake the Kreyol word for condom “kapot” as someone in the classes name and then proceed to having the class tell me that the condom is not a hat for my head, knee, foot or hand.  When they finally tell me what it was for, I blush with embarrassment.  I began to sweat nervously to the class’ enjoyment. I started drying up the sweat with my red handkerchief which then suddenly disappears. Silence when the handkerchief first disappears and then awestruck laughter as it comes back out of someone’s ear, then from someone’s shirt and finally out of my mouth.

About 50 people have gathered on the other side of the razor wire to watch this speech that has turned into a ti spectacle.

With the help of an interpreter, I explain briefly why I do what I do and how I believe in the health benefits of laughter.  The group nodded as if in concurrence or anticipation of what might happen next.  So then I ask “ou vley chante?” (Do you all want to sing?)  And the whole group inside and outside of the razor wire shouts “Oui” I end my “speech” with a group song and tell everyone to come back in a week to see the full show.  I will be back in the camp to do a clown show for a health class of young children; hopefully they will be able to open up the jagged classroom walls a bit more to let everyone in.

A swarm of children find a break in the wire and come into the classroom after the song and soon we’re all singing and playing.  One child named Ti-Rasta (little Rasta) comes up to me and teaches me to play “hot hands.” He asks “Ki kote moushwen?” (Where is the handkerchief) that I had been making disappear and I tell him that I don’t know, it’s gone.  Then one of the students points up to the top of the wall behind us. Stuck in the barbed wire is a pair of red women’s underwear that from a distance looks like my handkerchief.  He says “La!”  There it is!

Ti-Rasta and two camp volunteers offer to take me on a tour of the tent camp.  We embark into the field of tents, followed by many other children, but we soon lose them as there is not enough space for a large group of people to walk through.  We start on the north side of the camp, rows of 30 or more tents lined up next to each other, then a small walkway out the front of them and then another long row.  This pattern repeats for the length of 1-2 soccer fields.   These first tents are by American standards “4 person tents.” Many of them have holes, ripped covers and broken zippers.  They hold one to two families each (between 4 and 8 people).

A woman pulls me aside to show me how her tent is falling apart and says that when it rains the tent fills up and everyone gets soaked.

We move to the middle of the camp where there are tents donated by the Red Cross.  These are 4 family tents holding on average 16 people each, they are the length of maybe 1.5 SUV’s lined up head to toe.  Occasionally we step over a small hand dug runoff ditch full of stagnant water.  Some of the water is white like diluted cement; some is a toxic shade of green.  All of it is full of flies and insects.  On the east side of the camp we find the perimeter wall flanked with about 10-20 showers and 50 portable toilets.  This is the bathroom.

The way the toilets are lined up remind me of how you find toilets stacked up at marathons, carnivals or county fairs.  Those toilets are often only out for a few days or even hours and you know how that smell pervades.  These toilets have been here and in use by thousands daily since January.

We round a corner, over another runoff ditch and one of my guides points out some large green American military tents.  Ti-Rasta then runs up behind me, pulls at my shirt and starts saying “Obama Obama Obama!”  My guide tells me that these tents are the Obama tents.  They hold 4 or more families and are the Cadillacs of the tent camp, dry, sturdy and quite compared to the other tents.

We round through the “fancy” side of the camp and come back to the main entrance, back near the water bladders.  I watch a few children get into a fistfight and then run off.  The word on the ground here is that people are expecting two large cyclones to hit in November and are quite worried about it.  All of the tents, including the “Obamas” are showing signs of wear and tear; a cyclone right now would reap unimaginable havoc.

My guides talk about rain, and then begin to talk about how they would love to have an arts program at this camp.  There is a small band that has gotten together at the camp that plays rock and kompa music.  Other writers and artists have surfaced as well.  I begin to wonder how Clowns Without Borders could develop arts partnerships in these settings.

At the gate, my guides hand me off to the security guards again to take me back over to the clinic.  The walk is not far, but the streets are chaotic.  One of the men who lives near the gate turns on an old CD player boom box radio.  The speakers are blown and full of static but I quickly make out the song:  It’s the Rihanna and Jay-Z version of  “Umbrella.”

I say goodbye to Ti-Rasta and his crew of friends. As I step into the street Rihanna’s voice gets drowned out by cars honking, engines roaring and street vendors selling bottled water, fruit juice and random electronics.

15 minutes later the wind picks up throwing leaves all over the clinic compound.  Car alarms begin to sound in the clinic’s parking lot.  And then a 30-45 minute deluge breaks from the sky.  Thunder and lighting, power is lost as nutrition clinic fills with mothers and babies from the camp seeking shelter.

After the storm clears a many of the small tents have been destroyed in the camp the larger tents have also sustained significant damage.  Most of Port au Prince is now filled with tree branches and downed power lines.  This storm lasted less than one hour.  I cannot imagine what a hurricane or cyclone would do.

A recent NY Times article states that there are roughly 1.3 million people still displaced and living in these tent camps.  Very few people have the “Obama” style tents, many have simple tarpaulins that are their homes.    1,300 camps such as the one I  visited are scattered throughout the country.

Anna’s Journal

We have been working for a week with a group of adults in Grand Goave, training them to do creative activities with the children.  We had been told by Terre des Hommes how depressed the adults were, lacking in motivation and really needing our encouragement.  These individuals have all been affected by the earthquake and have lost their homes and their bearings, they are as traumatized as the children — and yet they are tasked with the responsibility of leading a psychosocial support effort.   So I was amazed to see how engaged and expressive they have been, indeed there is such a spirit and joy, and so much singing and chanting, it’s infectious.  Sure, sometimes they slack off in concentration and it’s hard to get the group focused.  But mostly, everyone is fully engaged and committed.  There is great energy in the group with such a spirit of generosity and a wonderful camaraderie between us all.  It’s truly been a gift to work with these individuals.  It’s not a given that a group will work so easily together or that we, as teachers, will have such accepting and engaged students.  These adults all come from different centers, they do not even know each other from before and they certainly did not know us.  But we all have something that binds us together, I suppose, the common goal of bringing joy to the children for the future of Haiti!

What is funny is that the adults are more like children than the children — in their playfulness and silliness and goofing off.  I think they are truly relishing the opportunity to just get to play! And forget for a week the responsibilities of being an adult and all that they face in their daily circumstances.
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Throughout the week of activities we have taken moments to check in with our participants to see what they have absorbed from the workshops, what worked and didn’t work, what do they enjoy — and whether they feel what we are sharing will be useful to them in their work with the children.  The responsehas been overwhelmingly positive.  We have given them paper and crayons and every day at the end of the workshop we ask them to draw their experience, e.g., what activity they enjoyed most, what was most challenging, what was their greatest accomplishment — individually and as a group.  We then have them stand up one by one and tell each other what they drew and why.  This exercise is working really well.  It turns out to be a great moment of absorption and reflection.  Here are some pictures of their drawings.

On the last day we give each workshop participant a certificate for having completed their training with Clowns Without Borders.  One of the participants had actually requested it.  We are told having a certificate actually can help them in their job search, and it makes them feel validated.  They are clearly inspired, everyone is very excited and proud.

I hope this inspiration lasts for a long time.  I wonder how things will continue and progress.  Everyone has had a wonderful, fun time.  Now it remains to be seen how they will carry on and take what they have learned from us and apply it to their work with the children.  This truly will show what impact our visit has had.  In our last meeting, as we share thanks and acknowledgements, one of the participants talks about the ‘goudou goudou’, the earthquake.  She says something about how it has been affecting her still causing so much distress, but that this week of workshops has been really helpful and now she feels much better.  It is affirming to hear such direct feedback of our work having an actual and real impact.

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Selena’s Journal:

Papette – Grand Goave

The week of workshops and shows ends with a big morning workshop. The 18 animateurs and 4 trainers we have been training teach the other animateurs from the 9 child protection centers. Yesterday we split everyone into groups and planned the morning. Today there are 76 people in the warm-up circle:

It is amazing to step back. After a week of creating and trying to direct the momentum of the training, we are on for the ride. The giant morning training takes off, a true team effort. Everyone participates teaching something different.

Our star mime leads an amazing magic imaginary ball exercise. Our star funny walker isn’t sure on how to lead the exercise but she commits 100% anyway. They are all teachers back in the teaching role after a week of being students. They are so luminous while they teach and it is delightful to tell them so in our reflection afterward. We exchange many goodbyes on words of respect and appreciation.

One trainer describes Anna as the crazy one, Tim as the clumsy one, me as the Scottish beauty who helps others even so, and Jan as the insightful one with a big field of vision.

The workshop participants who speak thanks and goodbyes in front of the group say our names one by one. I look around the circle at their faces and wonder for how long I will remember their 22 names.

From Grand Goave to Les Cayes

Throwing names today, Tim asked, “Que côté la mer?” A quarter of the class pointed to one of the 4 concrete block walls surrounding the 1-hoop basketball court and the community center shelter where we are teaching our workshops. I could see about one meter of sky between the razor wire along the top of the concrete wall and where the roof of the shelter begins. So I aimed my name into this slip of sky as I threw and called it out. The group echoed “Seeeleeeennaaaaa” behind me. I am one of the teachers but I’m still giddy at hearing my own name echoed by so many people.

Anna asks why they have the walls around the community center. It is in stark contrast to Papette in Grand Goave where we were working last week. There we were right on the sea. Open. Surrounded by trees. a group of people making charcoal. Another group cutting string to hang mosquito nets. I answer that I guess the wall is to keep people out, as evidenced by the crowd of kids that climb to the top of the gate, or peer under to watch the strange noisy activities we are leading inside.

We are in the city now and it is completely different. The regional director of TDH said we have just seen the two different kinds of humanitarian aid. Emergency response in Grand Goave and now development work in Les Cayes. We certainly notice the strength of the community. Despite the poverty. The motivation of the participates. Last week was full of energy too, but this week the participants seem more solid. For a second I picture these individuals as buildings themselves. Here in Les Cayes, though they may be living in tiny shacks, they seem whole. In Grand Goave they were crumbled. I see sketches of the many different living situations we’ve seen in Haiti interspersed with the faces of my favorite workshop participants. A former home inhabitable, the roof at an angle on the floor, a shack full of too many family members, a tent among many tents.

Cité Delma – Les Cayes

The workshops this week have a family feel. I give directions for an exercise with the baby of one of the workshop participants in my arms. An older brother and younger sister quibble during pass the clap. A few adults hang around watching our work sitting on benches in the space while kids climb above or scamper below the gate catching glimpses of the bizarre preparations inside the walls. Maybe they know there will be a show for the whole community in a few days but for now we remain these silly creatures driving through the community. Big pickup on narrow cactus lined path . There are bizarre fun sounds ensuing from the community center during the day and I imagine quite a few stories about the workshops at night.

The director of the community center has chosen outgoing kids for our workshops so that they will share what they learn with the rest of the community.

Today one of the TDH trainers asked me “so do clowns live in families?” I gave him a long answer about relationship in clown – status and complicity through different types of relationship. Then realized that what he wanted to know was whether me, Jan, Anna, and Tim live in families or the four of us together.

People seem to like the word “clown” even if it’s not so clear. In Grand Goave we had the workshop participants draw pictures what a “clown” was for them.  For the kids it seemed to mean the 4 of us. For the adults more comic characters and a lot of somewhat witchy stuff. Tails. Pointy hats. But when people say “clown” in conversation it feels like they are simply saying “you 4 silly foreigners.”

September 16, 2010
Written by Tim

First day of workshops in La Delma, a community right outside of Les Cayes, whose few roads are just barely the width of a car.  The dirt roads and paths are lined with small cacti, delineating the residents’ property.  The community is flanked by a multicolored river, that collects trash, dirt, soap, human and animal waste and delivers it into the sea nearby.  We work in a community center deep in this community that is surrounded by high block walls and razor wire.  One might call this a prison yard, and yet it is a magical space.

We opened our workshop for the 20 kids with whom we’ll be creating a show by first performing our show.

The audience was the best we’ve had yet, laughing loudly and frequently enraptured by what we were doing on stage.  The show was not perfect, but perfectly received.

And then rain, a torrent fell down on us just as we finished the show.

We had a large concrete and wood shelter over all of us so we could stay dry, but the sound of the rain overhead and thunder bellowing drowned out any voices.  We warmed up with the kids without making a sound, just listening to the sound of the rain.  Then, the warm up started to get funny.  All you could hear was heavy rain, interrupted by waves of laughter, then back to rain again.  No voices, no talking.  A new ensemble of children playing together, laughing and moving in the middle of the storm.

Written by Jan

A little update from Les Cayes, Haiti.  We finished our work in rural Grand Goave, and have moved 3 hours to the small southern city of Les Cayes.

We are now staying in a hotel instead of tents, although the hotel has had some funky aspects to it, mosquitoes, flooding toilets, etc.  We’re happy for the change of scenery to the city, however, and the different restaurants, markets, people, and the like.

We are commencing our workshops in a common space in a poor area on the outskirts of town.  Today we did a sort of introduction show for our workshop participants (most laughs yet!) and started to work with them on games and skills.  Both the kids and adults are super enthusiastic and sweet.

September 12, 2010
Written by Tim:
Its the second day of performances in the Grand Goave area; we’ve been working with a group of 20 kids and their trainers for about 4 days, playing games and building a show.  The kids have developed a “hat dance” to the tune of “5 foot 2, Eyes of Blue” in addition to juggling, broom balancing and acrobatic bits.  Yesterday the kids had two great performances with us as we toured to two tent camps supported by Terre des Hommes.

Its a new experience for me to perform in the camp setting here in Haiti and although we’ve been warmly welcomed and told after the shows that folks really like the clowns, the vibe in these communities has felt solemn.  In the few camps that we have performed so far, the children feel more distant and reserved than other children we’ve worked with that are not living in the camps.

But we still play… Jan still gets roaring cheers for his double diabalo tricks, our juggling and acrobatics are also consistent crowd pleasers.  We had one show this morning in a camp called Colbert.  The show went really well and we were treated afterward by a solo story telling piece by a local performer.  He told a story of the rural culture in Haiti and the importance of the oral tradition.  In his show he handed out pieces of paper and as he told his story of rural history he taught the audience to fold the paper into a hat, then a boat and finally unfolded the paper into a t-shirt.  His story was one of transformation of his culture and he ended the piece with a ritual of pouring out some homemade liquor and sharing it with elders in the community.  He was kind enough to give me a try as well.  It was very sweet, not too strong and quite refreshing after having done our performance.

We took the kids we are performing with back to Papet for food and rest before the second show.  But, as usual, we did not rest.  We ate together and then all ran out and swam and played in the sea.  The children have just learned how to do two-highs so they all wanted to jump on our shoulders, stand up on them and then fall into the ocean.

Around 2:30 we got out of the water, dried off quickly and loaded the tap-taps to drive to Sable, the local outdoor market in Grand Goave for our final show of the day.  This is an open air market that is not directly associated with a tent camp and as soon as we arrived, the vibe was more upbeat and it seemed the children not living in a camp setting were more forward and playful with us.  We started the show early because ominous clouds were rapidly rolling our way and shortly after the opening bit of us marching in with all of the children, some slapstick with a 15 foot bench and then Jan balancing it on his chin, the rain started coming down.  We kept going a bit, but then the sprinkle turned into a shower.  Our audience retreated under a large tarp and some of the market stands.  With the kids under a shelter, Jan snagged a bicycle from a child and began to ride it around chaotically acting like he did not know how to stop, the audience egging him on to go faster.  I tried to lasso him in with a long red rope, but ended up getting pulled along for the ride.  The rain let up a bit and the audience charged out of the tarp and market stand shelters wanting more.  So Anna, Jan and I found ourselves surrounded by different groups of kids looking for some entertainment.  We did small solo bits in various parts of this market square.  The laughter would bounce from group to group as the crowds grew larger.  Our bits culminated with some juggling and we played, soaking wet until everything was slippery, muddy and soaked.

Sadly we had to leave without finishing our whole show, but we enjoyed the chance of rain induced improvisation and went home exhausted from a weekend of shows following a week of teacher training, show creation with our kids from Papet and tons of play!

Wednesday, September 8th, 2010,  Grand Goave, Haiti.
Written by Jan

First two days of workshops completed.  We are staying in Grand Goave, an area near the epicenter of the January earthquake.  Although 80% of the buildings in the area were damaged or destroyed by the Goudou-Goudou (the local term, derived from the sound), they were spared the massive casualties of Port-au-Prince because the houses were smaller and offered better means of escape.  The people of Grand Goave are poor by any standard and include many displaced persons from the city.  However they seem to have access to clean water and basic nutrition, perhaps because of the presence of Terre des Hommes and other NGOs.

Starting to develop a routine.  At 8 AM we are picked up by a rented ‘Taptap’, a taxi made from a modified-pickup, which takes us to Papett, the beach-front child-protection center.  We have 3.5 hour workshop with the adult ‘animateurs’, Haitian young people employed by Terre des Hommes to work with children.  At 12:30 boxed lunches for all are brought in by Taptap, including generous heaps of rice and beans.  We enjoy them under the palms and swim a bit.  Then in the afternoon, we work for two hours with 20 children from local centers who will perform with us in the show this coming weekend.

Workshops can be difficult because of the language barrier, a mix of french, english and creole is used, sometimes necessitating several rounds of translation at the onset of each activity.  However we are carried through by the overwhelming enthusiasm of the participants.  In two days we have covered theater games, songs, dances, character walks, partner acro and basic juggling.  The Animateurs, especially, show engagement and ask follow-up questions reflecting the fact that they are expected to continue teaching many of these games and skills to their children, after we leave.  We have also learned several games and dances from the young animateurs, giving the workshop a genuine aspect of exchange.  We’re enjoying our workshop days, a mix of frustrated enterprise with surprising discovery.

At five each day we return to the compound of Terre des Hommes, try to squeeze in some show rehearsal or interviews with the film crew before succumbing to the heat and dirt and heading for the showers.
We only have two more days to assemble the show with the kids, then this weekend, four shows at various local protection centers.  We all look forward to moving from the workshop to the stage this, and sharing our weeks work with the wider community.  –JD

Monday September 6, 2010
It’s Monday, we’ve been on the ground in Haiti for two days.  There is no internet at the compound but I hope to send this out tomorrow.  Mission is going smoothly so far.  After landing at in Port-au-Prince we took a colorful and chaotic ride through the what can only be described as the knarled mess of the city and surrounding area.  Traffic, tent cities, cracked roads and bridges, many colorful vehicles and driving techniques.  We then made our way to the relative calm of the more rural Grand Goave and the compound of our hosts, Terre des Hommes.  They have an enclosed compound where we sleep secure in large tents pitched outside a beach house they have rented.  We have therefore a beautiful rehearsal space and ready access to water, food, and a driver.

Yesterday we rehearsed together most of the day.  Today we visited the four sites where we will perform our show this weekend.  These are protection centers, essentially free day cares for affected areas around Grand Goave.  At each site we were soon surrounded by children, many welcome songs spontaneously presented by the gathered youngsters.  We played and juggled with the kids briefly before moving to the next site, and assured them that we would return with a spectacle and to bring their families.  This was fun.

This afternoon we met with the 25 ‘Animateurs’, young adults who work for Terre des Hommes at the protection centers.  We will work with them all week, workshopping physical theater and circus activities that they can then continue with their young charges.  This was a fun exchange; after we talked a bit about our hopes for the workshop they shared some of their interests and questions about clowning.  Then, seemingly extempore, five of them got up and performed a ‘Coordiné’ dance, which seems to be a cross between line dancing, hip-hop and military drill.  At the young people’s coaxing, the clowns then performed their own imitation of coordiné dance, and a few pratfalls, to the amusement of the Haitians.  We followed with name games, some basic pyramids, and songs.  Much laughing, I think this will be a fun group and we can leave them with some new skills and games.

September 2, 2010

The group gathered in NY first to rehearse. See pictures below.

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