How to make an arrow/Como hacer una flecha

Este película, sencilla, lenta, y bella, es una de mis favoritas del cinema popular que hemos hecho en los últimos años. Fue filmado por un niño de 9 años y dos niñas de 7 y 8, todos de la tribu Sáliba, al lado del Rio Meta, en los Llanos Orientales de Colombia. La incluyo aquí porque un festival de cinema indígena en Nepal acaba de pedir su participación.

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This slow, simple, and beautiful film is one of my favorites of the many we have made with indigenous children around Latin America. It was filmed by a nine year old boy and two younger girls, all from the Sáliba tribe at the headwaters of the Orinoco, in Colombia. I include it here because an indigenous group from Nepal just asked for it to be included in their international film festival.

On Luxury and Necessity, Part II

Several days ago, I wrote about how the emphasis on fashion among Aymara and Quechua women in Bolivia had the unexpected effect of contributing to indigenous consciousness and forming part of the revolutions that brought real democracy to Bolivia in 2003 and 2005.  It is interesting to see how the same analysis of luxury and necessity can play out among programs serving marginalized children.

While I was in Bolivia, I sat in on an evaluation of Compa (the NGO where I was working) by the Kellogg Foundation.  Several of the young artists trained at Compa began their stories in the same way: their parents had not wanted them to attend music or theater classes.  Their families were poor and needed to think pragmatic: to make money right now (working) or at least to study something practical that would make them a good salary soon.  Every one of the young people interviewed said that they had to overcome these arguments in order to take arts classes.

Compa promotes transformative social change, and doesn't want its work evaluated just in terms of how individual kids who learned arts there are doing.  None the less, it is telling, I think, that something like 75% of young people between 19-25 who attend or attended Compa are now taking college courses.  That's against a baseline of something less than 10% in El Alto, and less that 5% in Bolivia (I'm not quoting exact stats here, just ball park figures).  So once again here, we have a result where the "luxury" of studying the arts has a more positive, practical effect than the "pragmatic" solution of work or vocational studies.

In contrast, then, we should look at programs that focus on the vocational, training carpenters and mechanics and information professionals; the Salesian Fathers, who run respected and imitated NGOs all over Latin America, can serve as a great point of reference.  It is fascinating to look at kids who have gone through many of the Ciudades del Niño or Casas Don Bosco around the continent.  They are well behaved, quiet, and good workers.  Most seem quite ready to work hard and provide for their families.  Yet the spark we see in street kids, the rough charisma, the angry hope... it isn't there.  These kids are very different from their peers who have done arts programs like Compa (or Pé no Chão in Brazil or Taller de Vida or Colegio del Cuerpo in Colombia).

I'm reminded of two references here.  One is Freud's Reality Principle, the necessity of knowing what is possible and what is not.  According to many American interpretations of Freud, the point of psychoanalysis is to bring people in line with the reality principle, so that they no longer live in their fantasies.  The other reference comes from the first chapters of Don Quijote, the scene where the barber and the priest plan to burn Don Quijote's books because they have torn him out of the limitations of reality that should contain him.  The American Freaudians, the priest, and the barber share with the parents of many kids in El Alto a very simple, and very logical idea: you have to be pragmatic, you have to know what is really possible instead of going off and tilting at windmills.  In the same way, both left and right wing critics of the cholitas insisted that spending money on fashion was a mistake when there were so many other political or family necessities.

In fact, though, it appears that the most "practical" decision, in terms of the concrete political, personal, and educational results, is exactly the opposite: to invest in what seems like luxury: in the arts, in fashion, in a rusty spear and shield.  Not all luxuries have these results, of course -- cocaine and video games might do as well for poor kids and families in Bolivia -- but it seems that a large part of wisdom is figuring out which luxuries will, indeed, make a difference.

On Luxury and Necessity

I have just gotten back from La Paz, Bolivia, where I have been working on a telenovela (Latin American soap opera) made by a group of indigenous kids from the shantytowns above the city.  One of the most striking and picturesque elements of Bolivia, memorable to most tourists, are the cholitas or mulheres de pollera, women dressed in what one would be tempted to call "traditional indigenous clothing," but which is really an autochthonous, hybrid fashion with both European and Inca roots.

Though many tourists see the cholitas as picturesque, these women also inspire hidden laughter ("bowler hats?") and more open criticisms.  Dressing in pollera fashion is expensive, after all, and many observers have commented that in a country as poor as Bolivia, as mothers of extremely poor families, these women would do much better if they dedicated their scarce money to educating and feeding themselves and their families.  Amidst starvation and the biting cold of El Alto, the shantytown where most cholitas live, fashion seems an unpardonable luxury.

Let me step back a moment, though, before I continue.  The first time I visited Bolivia was in 1991, not terribly long ago in terms of major social changes.  At that time, I was struck by the frightening sadness of the indigenous people, their downcast eyes and stooped postures, the fact that indian women would step off the sidewalk into the muck of the street when a white person wanted to pass.  Cholita fashion existed, but mostly in the form of old bowler hats and ragged long dresses, nothing like the rich silks and satins in the photo here.

In the 1990s, cholita fashion went wild, with new fabrics and cuts, new hats, and even cholita pro-wrestling (another story entirely).  There was an unexpected result of this excess, however: proud of their clothes and their appearance, cholitas no longer dropped their eyes, no longer stooped their shoulders, and no longer ceded their place on the sidewalk.  Their fashion had transformed their bodies.  And within a few short years, this pride had political consequences: cholitas were at the forefront of the two peaceful revolutions that took down the corrupt and clientelistic governments of Gonzalo Sánchez de Lozada in 2003 and Carlos Mesa in 2005.

I don't want to make any grand conclusion from this idea ("luxury is a necessity of revolution" or any such thing), but I do think the story challenges many of our basic assumptions about social change.  It often comes about by strange, torturous routes, and not by the straight line we thought would get us there.

The Flooded Plain/El Llano Inundado

The Flooded Plain came out of the same project as Life's Roulette, when several of the teenagers who had been child soldiers wanted to find a new way to teach about their experiences in the Colombian Civil War.  At one point in our discussions about the movie, one of the kids had complained that they suffered from extreme discrimination because of their life as soldiers, while "Everyone loves Harry Potter, and he's just a child soldier in the war against Voldemort."  As a result, three of the boys worked to transform their stories into young adult fantasy, presented as an on-line comic book. If the button above doesn't work, the English version is available here.

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El Llano Inundado surge del mismo proyecto como Ruleta de la Vida, cuando algunos de los adolescentes que habían sido niños soldados querían un nuevo medio para enseñar sobre sus experiencias en la Guerra Civil Colombiana.  En algún momento de nuestras conversaciones sobre la película que estábamos haciendo, un muchacho reclamó que ellos sufrieron mucha discriminación por su vida como soldados, mientras que "Todo el mundo ama a Harry Potter, quién no es más que un niño soldado en la guerra contra Voldemort."  Como resultado, tres de los muchachos trabajaron para transformar sus historias en una fantasía juvenil, presentado aquí como un comix online.  Versión en Español disponible aqui (edición de texto por Aida Ramos).

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Versão em Português (Tradução Sara Escalhão Gomes)

Funk dos Macaquinhos/The Little Monkey Funk

Tenho escutado esta música de crianças de todas as classes sociais no Brasil; alguns dos pais deles me falam que o programa da Xuxa a difunde.  Porém, acho que com um ritmo um pouco mais funk e a voz de Carlos Dias da Creche Comunitária Salgueiro (4 anos de idade), vai além da idiotice que passa por cultura infantil no programa da Xuxa.

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A quick English translation:

"Five little monkeys were jumping on the bed

One fell down and broke it's head

My mom called up the doctor who said,

No more monkeys jumping on the bed!"

I have seen a children's book with a similar poem in the United States, but I'm not sure if it came first, or this song, which almost every kid in Brazil knows.

En Busca de la Vida/Looking for Life (Episode 2)

Escribo este blog desde La Paz, Bolivia, donde estoy acompañando a los jóvenes cineastas que crearon En Busca de la Vida. Mañana, vamos a estrenar episodio seis, después de una larga pausa (creo que se dice hiatus en la industria televisiva...). Estoy impresionado con la manera que los muchachos han re-tomado la historia después de muchos problemas que pasaron en la producción el año pasado.

Para ver la actualización de la novela, es mejor visitar al blog de En Busca de la Vida, donde lo mantendré a la fecha.

O dia que sai de Casa/The Day I left Home

"The day I left home my mother told me,

Son, come here.

I give all of my prayers to God that you will be well.

She never understood my reasons for leaving home

But she knows that after it grows up,

A bird has wings and has to fly."

The song, recorded by Carlos Dias (age 4) at the Salguiero Community Pre-School in a favela close to Rio de Janeiro, says something profound about how seriously little children take going away to school, or even to day care.  It can be traumatic, but also noble, something of which they can be proud.

Carlos, Rita and I recorded the song on the playground behind the pre-school, and I later composed the music to fit his beautiful singing voice.  In the next couple of weeks, I will post more of Carlos's songs, as well as those of several of his friends.

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A música é bem conhecida, do filme Os Dois Filhos de Francisco, mas acho que Carlos Dias (4 anos de idade) o faz sua nesta interpretação.

Television Report on Child Soldiers

Amanda Massa and Rania Zabaneh did an excellent report on child soldiers for Columbia Television, which I reproduce here.  One of the interviews is with Ismael Beah, the famous ex-child soldier and now best selling author and human rights advocate.  The other is with Edwin Garzón, the star of Ruleta de la Vida/Life's Roulette, the first fictional, feature length film by child soldiers, made with Shine a Light in 2007-2008.

A Incrível História da Vovozinha e o Lobo Mau

Este filme foi o primeiro que fizemos no Projeto Transições, quando Rita e eu estivemos muito frustrados, incerto se o 
nosso experimento ensinando cinema a crianças pequenas ia dar fruto. Mas uma tarde, no parquinho, Bia tomou a cámara em mãos e começou a brincar. Quando virou o LED screen para poder se ver, escapou a frase "Quê grandes olhos que você tem!", e o resto -- com as variações na história por Hemillin e Carlos -- seguiu naturalmente.

Um pequeno fato para ajudar a intender a loucura criativa da terceira história: quando Carlos e a sua família migraram do 
nordeste para Rio de Janeiro, moraram por um tempo no elevador de um prédio abandonado.
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The echoes of gunshots had died down not long before, and most of the older kids at the pre-school in a favela just outside Rio de Janeiro were still nervous.  Everyone knew it was just one of the daily battles between gangs in the shantytown, but that knowledge provided little consolation.  Carlos, Beatriz, Emily, and Allan, all about 4 years old, saw a chance to have the playground to themselves, so they snuck out the back door and onto the swings, where Rita and I were revising the video some of the other kids had filmed earlier in the day.

Beatriz took the big camera in her hand and turned the viewscreen around so she could film and see herself at the same time.  One eye moved closer and closer to the lens as her other eye watched what was happening on the screen.  "What big eyes you have!" she declared, and then caught her own reference.  She smiled with the innocent genius that too many of us lose after that wonderful age of four years old, and completed the phrase: "The better to see you with, my dear."

A quick hint to help understand the crazy genius of the end of the story: When Carlos and his family moved from Brazil's poor northeast to Rio de Janeiro, they lived for a time in the elevator of an abandoned building.

En Busca de la Vida/Looking for Life

In Latin America, the telenovela is one of the most popular and pervasive art forms. These television shows are often 
compared to American soap operas because of their focus on love, family, and their often melodramatic approach to 
representing quotidian problems. Telenovelas differ from the soap opera in several major ways, though, particularly their pervasiveness -- almost everyone watches them, because they come on in prime time -- the gender of their audiences -- as much male as female -- and their ideological impact. With several notable exceptions, telenovelas from Brazil to Mexico present the world through the eyes of the upper class, presenting wealth as the only reasonable goal in the world.

A group of young indigenous Bolivians, fans of many telenovelas but not of the consequences these TV shows have on 
their communities, which present the poor as having worth only because of their relationship with the rich. So they decided to make a "telenovela from the bottom" (or, perhaps, given that they live in the shantytown of El Alto, at 14,000 feet, 
"from above"). En Busca de la Vida/Looking for Life uses the tropes of the telenovela to tell a very different story, one 
about hope and resistance.

Today's post is the first episode, as the children and teenagers were learning to film and tell stories. I'm now in Bolivia, 
filming episodes 6-15, and they have now reached a level that is nearly professional, and certainly better than any other 
telenovela I have seen in Bolivia. The show has its own blog, where I have posted several more episodes (the 
commentaries are in Spanish, but the episodes have English subtitles) and its own YouTube Channel.

Theater of War, Cinema of Peace

In 2007, Shine a Light collaborated with the Colombian NGO Taller de Vida to develop the first feature-length, fictional film ever made by children who once were soldiers.  The result, Ruleta de la Vida/Life's Roulette, is a powerful movie that has now been shown at film festivals on four continents, and has won some important prizes.  Perhaps more significantly, while on average more than half of children who leave the war return to it, none of the kids who made Life's Roulette have returned to an illegal armed group.  Almost all of them are studying, doing well, and many even continue to work in cinema or social justice movements.

Over the last several years, I have been reflecting on the experience of making the movie and trying to see why it was such an effective tool for art, social change, and personal growth.  Those reflections, mediated through contemporary philosophy and film theory, became Theater of War, Cinema of Peace, a book just published on the Shine a Light website.  You can download it for free at http://www.shinealight.org/Books.html

A Barata Yazmin/Yazmin the Cockroach

A Barata Yazmin surge do mesmo projeto como A Varinha Mágica, e conta uma história inventada pela turma pré-escolar da Creche Comunitária Salguiero, em São Gonçalo, perto ao Rio de Janeiro. Kevin, o menino que narra a história no 
vídeo, sempre tinha muito medo àsbaratas, mas um dia, em caminho para a creche, ele pegou uma barata na rua e o levou 
para conhecer aos seus amigos. A professora da turma, Catarina de Oliveira, queria aproveitar do evento inédito, e ajudou à turma a fazer um livro onde cada criança desenhava um evento nahistória. Depois da criação do livro, eu digitalizei as 
imagens e as animei.

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Yazmin the Cockroach comes from the same project as The Magic Wand, telling a story created by the pre-school class at 
the Salguiero community pre-school. Kevin, the four-year old who narrates the video, had always been terrified of 
cockroaches, but one day, unexpectedly, he found a roach on the way to school and brought it to meet his friends. The 
teacher, Catarina de Oliveira, seeing a unique teaching opportunity, asked each of the kids to draw a page for a book, 
telling the story of one event that day. I then scanned the pictures and animated the children's drawings.

If you can't see the subtitles in English, run your mouse over the little triangle to the lower right of the movie, and you 
should be able to call them up.

A Varinha Mágica/The Magic Wand

Nos últimos meses, Shine a Light vai desenvolvendo novas técnicas de comunicar a criatividade e arte de crianças da 
periferia. A Varinha Mágica basa-se nas histórias da turma pré-escolar da Creche Comunitária Salguiero, na cidade de São Gonçalo, perto ao Rio de Janeiro.

A história começa com uma das tragêdias quotidianas que toca na vida de uma criança: um brinquedinho -- neste caso, 
uma vara que Carlos achou em caminha à creche -- se quebrou. Porém, as outras crianças descobrem que a vara quebrada é mágica. Acho que a história motra algo profundo sobre a criatividade infantil e como a magia está sempre presente nas 
suas vidas.

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Over the last several months, Shine a Light has developed new tools for communicating the creativity and art of 
marginalized children. The Magic Wand, based on a story from a group of pre-schoolers from São Gonçalo, near Rio de 
Janeiro, shows how animation technology can capture something of the genius of children's thinking.

The story begins with one of a child's daily tragedies: a toy breaks. In this case, it is a stick that Carlos found on the way 
to school, but when it broke, he was still sad. Fortunately, the other kids in the class soon discovered that the broken stick was really a magic wand that could turn itself into anything they could imagine.

If you can't see the subtitles in English, run your mouse over the little triangle to the lower right of the movie, and you should be able to call them up.

About Shine a Light

Latin American civil society has developed extraordinary solutions for marginalized children, from national political movements to top-notch ballet troupes. Unfortunately, institutional and national barriers have prevented these programs from learning from each other: the problem is not a lack of solutions, but a lack of communication. SAL uses digital technology to democratize this intellectual capital, connecting community based programs with each other so that no one need reinvent the wheel.

Over ten years of work, we have become the largest collaborative network of grassroots organizations serving marginalized children in the world and have impacted education and social services for over two million children and families.

Shine a Light collaborates with the most creative NGOs in Latin America to develop and disseminate best practices with marginalized children. We teach children the digital arts -- cinema, photography, music composition, graphic design, etc -- and then help them to teach others, whether educators at other programs, other children, or the general population.