This is going to be a very extensive post because there is so much to catch up on. I'll try to go in chronological order...
Washington, DC
My first time to visit our capitol. Arrived in DC November 23rd. Took the Metro to Ali's apartment to meet Erin. We met with Ali when she finished work. It was so nice to be together and I felt especially lucky to see Ali twice in two weeks. The next day, while Ali was at work, Erin and I walked around The Mall. We saw the WWII Memorial, the Capitol, the Lincoln Memorial (And Erin, he is STILL following me around. Saw the statue of him at West Minister in London), and the White House. I really enjoyed our conversations there. Which included mixed feelings about WWII, what was Lincoln's real agenda, and conspiracies of the government. I was happy that I wasn't completely in the dark on historical events. I realized that if I only relied on my education of social studies from Arts, I wouldn't know anything! And so, I am grateful for all the documentaries and historical movies Mack and Lewis made us watch over the years. A short but sweet visit. Then off to NYC!
Thanksgiving
This was my favorite New York Thanksgiving. Wonderful food, people, and music. Had a great time hanging out with the family. Thank you all for watching Muppets Christmas Carol. Loved our 4 hour version of The Tunnel. The opera was wonderful. I miss you all so much already!
Fela!
Erin, Ryan and I went to see the musical Fela!
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That only touches a little bit of the greatness of this show. I looked over at Erin almost every 10 minutes with a look of astonishment. Here is a wonderful description and overview of Fela's life I asked Erin to write. We have both been big fans of Fela and Femi Kuti's (Fela's son) music for a while. But this musical reminded us of all the hardships in Fela's life and his fight for a better one.
"Fela Anikulapo-Kuti (1938-1997) was a Nigerian revolutionary musician-politician and spiritual leader. Fela created Afrobeat music, combining African, Cuban, and American funk and jazz influences. Through his music and direct political action, he challenged the corrupt authority structure of post-colonial Nigeria, and contemporary neo-colonialist globalization. The son of a pastor, Fela criticized organized religion, hearkening rather to the traditional African gods of Nigeria and assuming the role of Chief Priest within his self-declared community. His life is now commemorated in a Broadway production, Fela!, currently being performed at the Eugene Oneill theatre in Manhattan.
In the show, Fela Kuti's presence and personality are evoked in the context of the elaborate stage performance which in life he referred to as the "Underground Spiritual Game". The set is a reproduction of the Afrika Shrine, the music club Fela established in Lagos, Nigeria. The walls are cluttered with political manifesto, symbols of pan-Africanism, and memorabilia venerating the Orishas, the Yoruba ancestor-gods, and Fela's mother, Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti, a leading Nigerian nationalist and feminist. At any given moment, over 30 performers join actor Sahr Ngauraj as he portrays Fela on the stage. He is accompanied by a full band-- drums, guitars, horns, keys-- and an ensemble of costumed, painted dancers, female and male alike, super-charged with energy and sexuality.
The audience at the Oneill theatre is addressed as if it were the regular gathering at the Afrika Shrine in Lagos, on the occasion of what was to be Fela's final show. Fela speaks to the audience directly, recapping, between jokes and songs, his personal and musical development, and the social and historical scene of his life and the movement that thrived around it. The show hinges on Fela's supplication to the spirit of his mother, killed due to a raid by the Nigerian military, for her blessing on him to leave Nigeria. He wishes to escape the country for his own safety, and to spread his message, and gain fame and fortune in exile. Funmilayo's blessing is denied, in a majestic, magical scene in which Fela meets his mother in the realm beyond the grave. She commands him to stay in Nigeria and fight for his people, even if it means forfeiting his life.
Having been exposed to Fela's musical style and political message through performances of his son, Femi, who has carried on his father's tradition, I came to the show prepared to be confronted with a world for which I have secretly yearned: a world not only of strong, beautiful performers, but, more elusively, one of clear moral ground. Fela, and Femi after him, perform bare-chested; their authority is established, if on no other basis, upon their confident, naked presence on the stage. Deep into their long, intricate, fervent grooves, they sing-talk in pidgin English of the hypocrisy, corruption, brutality, and waste that characterize global politics. They point to the greed of governments and multinational corporations, the harsh legacy of colonialism in Africa, and the world's blindness to that continent's suffering. The irresistible music and performance literally evoke a full-body response to complement a moral and political message that remains valid today. The dancers establish the community encircling the personality of their leader, and demonstrate the vitality and fun with which this community is infused.
I step away from the performance and back into New York City with an empty feeling, a nostalgia for a home I have never known. Many people today, even those who like myself are not old enough to have been there, are wistful for a time when there was a clear distinction between right and wrong, when great sacrifices were asked of the underdog in the name of his or her beliefs, and were joyfully made; a time when beliefs and actions, community and creativity could all be synchronized. Today it seems that we are infinitely more fractured, that individuals are more alienated than ever from the community, the land, and the past, that issues facing society are more nuanced and unrelatable, or so huge, complex, and imminent that we are paralyzed. America seems to have fallen into a deep sleep of denial, in which our outrage and our impulse for collective action flounder under the heavy sedative effects of materialism or paranoia.
We might question whether the issues were ever less nuanced, or communities ever truly solidary, whether the line between right and wrong has ever truly been defined. While the atmosphere of collective idealism evoked by Fela! and mentioned above is not entirely mythical-- there have been many such instances, from the 1960s in the US to the time of early Christianity-- every time, place, and movement carries its own hypocrisies and corruptions. The dichotomies of right and wrong, or good and evil, are always dubious, and have a life of their own within each individual. At times, Fela himself was seen as a tyrant among his community, a womanizer, a diva, another thug politician. The euphoria of communal welfare and the inspiration provided by strong personalities like Fela's at some point give way to the truth that the world we live in is lonely, complicated, and confusing.
Interestingly, there occurs in the show a moment wherein Fela himself belies this truth and his own humanity. Sitting on the edge of the stage, he muses that his life used to seem to have meaning. It was like a fairy-tale, he remembers, or a movie. Things mattered, and things were going to happen. Fela suggests that the narrative thread of his life will be lost if he must remain in Nigeria, where the constant harassment and hostility of the government will destroy everything he has created, and render his struggle meaningless.
There is something very poignant and true in Funmilayo's refusal to condone Fela's escape. If it is true that in life Fela wished to leave Africa forever, to leave behind the Afrika Shrine, along with Nigeria and its parasitical government, perhaps it is precisely that which kept him there that confirms Fela's true status as a prophet. Maybe he would have been merely a thug or a musician on an ego trip, taking advantage of people's dissatisfaction for the sake of his own glorification, had he left Nigeria and attained international stardom, played with Bob Marley, toured Europe and America, and grown celebrated and rich. His journey through the spirit world to meet his murdered mother, and ultimately, his assent to remain in Nigeria, the land of his ancestors and the home of the people for whom he fought, demonstrate that Fela was in touch with an authority that went beyond his musical talent, his natural charm, and his muscular male torso on the stage. He communed with the orishas, he spoke with the dead, and he himself submitted his will to a higher, maternal authority, representing ancestral divinity, Mother Nigeria, and Mother Africa. To carry on the comparison, Fela's request to leave Nigeria is not unlike Jesus's final plea for reprieve on the cross, and Funmilayo's intransigence contains the same final import as God's silent answer on Calvary: the message is that in the face of blind brutality and seeming chaos, when the world seems too frustrating and hopeless to tolerate, in these times, though escape may be desirable, it is impossible. Our world is a closed system, in which we are inextricably tied to our roots.
Despite his arguable shortcomings, we must not forget the courage that was required of Fela to stand up to the unscrupulous Nigerian government and the strong economic interests of the British Petroleum conglomerate. Refusing to leave the table, he offered a new way of thinking which challenged the contemporary colonialist mentality, and established a way of life, a medium of expression, and a vision for the future which all stemmed from an intimate connection with the spiritual heritage of the people involved. It was organic, it was holistic, and it was o-ri-gi-nal: no artificiality."-Erin Lierl
I know it's a little strange to keep going after that but I must...
Gumbo
Here is a picture of the gumbo we made in NYC. It was delicious. Roux took 2 hours. Turkey and sausage.
Eddie Izzard
We flew in to London on our way to Rome to see Eddie Izzard live. He was HILARIOUS. Even with the jet lag we had the best time EVER.
Just a taste of his genius. Please watch till the end. You won't be sorry.Rome
Ryan and I spent a wonderful day in Rome and had a very exciting surprise. I will let him tell you the story so that he can write it in Italian. His Italian, by the way, has been a God send. He's been speaking a lot and I think everyone really thinks he is Italian!
Boccea
Wednesday we arrived at the farm. Just an hour and a half trip northwest of Rome. First thing we did when arrived was put down our bags and eat! Rice and lentils, salad, fresh olives, and greens. Carmella, our supervisor, served us mountain sized portions of each. Carmella and Bogdhan (Carmella's brother) are Romanian. They run the farm with Antonio (Carmella's husband from Sardinia), Christian (he is half Italian and half German), and a few other people. Miss Anna is the owner. The story goes, Miss Anna's grandfather was a friend of Mussolini. Mussolini gave this land to Miss Anna's grandfather. He then built the houses that are here. Now, there are only two buildings that can be occupied. The rest are in ruins around the land. We stay in one, and Miss Anna runs a bed and breakfast from the other. Here is the website so you can see...
http://http//www.agricolaboccea.it/default.asp?pag=chisiamo
We've been harvesting the vegetables, maintaining the courtyard, and Ryan had to round up the cattle today. Tomorrow and Sunday are our days off. We plan to use them to relax and do some exploring.
OH! I almost forgot to mention someone very important. Dali. The goat. Already we have wittnessed Dali's mischeviousness of eating things she's not supposed to. I hear almost 10 times a day Carmella yelling at her in Romanian. "No! Dali!" Dali is a tibetent goat that Carmella has had since she was the size of a fist. Now, she's the size of a yoga ball. Probably the roundest goat I've ever seen. I say roundest instead of fattest because Bogdhan tells her when I say she's fat. Then she looks at me with a very disturbing look. She's already rammed into one of the dogs here causing him to only be able to walk on three legs. I'm not taking any chances.
I hope this isn't too long and that you were able to make it all the way to the end. I don't think I'll be able to put up pictures until we return to Rome. Will keep updating on stories though. Love to you all!
Medora
No spell check and too tired to read over. Hope it's ok.
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