Jottings on Postcolonialism

Here is one of the compulsory weekly journal entries I wrote for my Postcolonial lit class. I don't know if you'll be able to make head or tail of it, but hopefully it might give a hint of what the course has involved (and why I've loved it!).

Wk 3 – Danticat – We are Ugly But We are Here, Guevara's The Motorcycle Diaries, Bhaba.

I danced in the rain on Monday night.

On Tuesday I ate pancakes at 8am in the morning. I took my sister breakfast in bed and she was very happy.*

On Wednesday we bought a new packet of Earl Grey tea (Nature's Cuppa, the one and only). It smelt good and the whole household was content.

On Thursday I drank some beer. I didn't get a free lunch.

But on Friday I got free sushi and sand between my toes.

On Saturday I played an epic game of 500. 22 rounds, 3 hours.

On Sunday I played soccer in the park and sang in a silly voice to Mika.

That was my week (or one impression of it at least). I also reflected on stuff I read [finally!]:

I enjoyed the Motorcycle Diaries but it wasn't as substantial as I'd imagined it might be. It seemed to be little more than just two guys rambling around South America surviving on nothing but the hospitality of locals and enjoying it where they could. I would have liked to hear more about their experience of the leper colonies and a little more of the development of their thinking regarding communism, power to the oppressed and stuff. I did like the bit where they'd managed to get first class fares on a ship, but then concluded that they connected better with – and enjoyed more – the sailors anyway.

I really liked Danticat's piece. Wished it was longer! Her pithy observation regarding Haiti “economics and politics are intrinsically related; who is in power determines to a great extent whether or not people will eat” spoke volumes about her experience, and that of the people of Haiti. I liked the strong feminist overtones, introduced and then threaded through with the story of Anacona amongst the reflections on the other women in her life. It is confronting, even devastating, but there is still a beauty in the strength and hope expressed in their catch cry “we are ugly, but we are here.” There is a real solidarity and honesty about it. Life is hard, but it is still worth celebrating the fact that they have survived another day together. The ending expresses more of the concept of the circularity of life; as her grandmother believed: “if a life is lost, then another one springs up replanted somewhere else, the next life even stronger than the last.” They exist through memory in an endless circle of power and endurance.

Bhaba [Postcolonial theorist] was pretty dense. It took me forever to get through the shorter article (Of Mimicry and Man) and I barely touched the other. I did really like that idea of the colonisers keeping the colonised in a bondage of mimicry: they would give them a dose of the Christian faith, or of 'civilisation', what it meant to be a gentleman, etc, but just a limited amount that would prevent them from being able to be fully 'civilised' (in their terms) or a free Christian. I could see some of this in King's stuff from the week before – how there was this writing and rewriting of what it meant to be Indian which ended up being a lose-lose situation for them.

When we went over it in class, I grasped more of what Bhaba was meaning by hybridity and ambivalence. The coloniser is in an alien world with an imagined picture of their old world, writing the image of the colonised. The colonised meets them in the middle of these images – it is not all on the one side but an exchange that grows into something new. Some ideas of postcolonialism rely on traditional manichaean dichotomies, but these don't honestly represent the situation. There is a blending. Also, if it is defined with regards to possessions and lacks; with this understanding it becomes evident that everyone possesses and lacks different things, and so there are no longer dichotomies.

*I made that one up. Or Skye did. Don't remember. She wishes it happened...

I might try and tell you about my favourite books from the course soon.. & bug you to read them!

the day I died and other stories

Twas the night of our housewarming, several moons ago (ok maybe two), right on 6pm (the official party-beginning time) and I was in my room preparing myself to receive guests( ie trying to find clean clothes to wear) when I hear a knock at the door. And a strange voice.

"Hi, I'm a friend of Josiah's, I was meeting up with him here". Oh ok. Didn't know Josiah was coming tonight. And inviting a friend. Random.

One of my friendly housemates invites him in. He takes a seat and they make awkward conversation.
I come out, introduce myself, sit down. The penny still hasn't dropped.
Conversation begins again, I look away, and all of a sudden I'm being poked in the arm with a plastic card by mystery man.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!!! That means he's my assassin*. That means I'm dead. Why the heck did they let him in?!?!?!?!?!

That was my head voice.
In reality I wailed 'oh no!', laughed dolefully, and offered him a drink. He declined, and took himself off soon afterwards, the dirty deed accomplished.

Apart from the grisly start, it was a great night.

There was sushi:

And fire:

(photo courtesy of Em)

The other stories?

Well, we had a Passover celebration, with as much Jewish tradition as we could muster. Rich and thought-provoking.


And our clothesline got squashed by a giant branch:

(photo courtesy of Mandie)

I should really have a good rave about Postcolonial literature and lamb-eating and bike-riding and QUIDDITCH. especially quidditch.
Maybe another time..


*uni-wide game of Assassin. You kill your target by hunting them down and touching them with a card.

When I thought I'd left it all behind...

In the hols I went to India and Malaysia. Then I came back. To Australia. But things are not always as one might expect..


About a month ago I walked over to uni.. and into a little Malaysia. It was the Malaysian Society's welcome do, and I was the only white person there (bar one). Everyone was speaking in their delightfully accented malay-english, or bahasa, or Tamil (I think) - or a bit of each. We played games - who could make teh tarik (literally pulled tea - poured at a distance from jug to jug to aerate it) the best (me and my partner managed to spill a fair bit on eachother!) We played giant games of tug-of-war, and did lots of what malaysians do best - eating, and drinking teh.




On my birthday I was in Sydney to catch up with people and hear Shane Claiborne (Christian-monk-hippy-dude) speak. While we were in Newtown we found this fantastic Indian/Sri Lankan/Malay restaurant that made dosai (massive crispy lentil-based pancakes), sambal and chutneys just how they tasted in India!! I nearly died of excitement.



On that visit I also found an asian grocers' that sold heaps of mixes and spices and other fascinating things.. which enabled me to make idli and sambal a few weeks later. (as we didn't have an idli steamer and the stove was full, I ended up cooking them in the microwave. shhh I won't tell anyone if you don't. they still tasted great, I swear!)

10 Ways to Entertain (or frustrate, annoy) the Natives

I am in fact guilty of most of these..

1. White girl carrying 5 massive wool blankets down crowded Kolkatan streets.

2. Getting stuck in a salwar top evidently made for much smaller Indian women.

3. Sniffing leaf-wrapped breath-fresheners in a fancy restaurant (for some reason the other guests found it particularly hilarious)

4. Ordering more bread and not eating your rice (seriously, who does that?)

5. Saving the throwaway clay cups from a chai stall.. and bringing them off the street into a cafe.

6. Arguing for ages with taxi/rickshaw drivers.. and then walking off mid-bargain

7. Three white women waltzing into a muslim eatery.. and realising after sitting down and ordering that 100% of the clientele was male.

8. Language issues: "what is it?"
"5 rupees"
"no, what's in it?"
"5 rupees"
is there cream?"
"No, 5"
arrggghhh.

9. Getting lost in the quiet backstreets of outer suburbs.. finishing up with the road ending in someone's backyard bathing area.

10. Insist on trying to save (resurrect) a dying puffer fish (spiny, useless, poisonous) that fishermen had thrown up on the beach ("are you going to eat it?" "no" "well you should throw it back if you're not going to eat it").. and standing in the water for half an hour stopping it from floating back in, when it was obviously dead [this was NOT me].


I'm sure there was more, but that's all for now!

In other news, I've been back in oz for 10 days or so now, trying to settle back into Newie, a new house, get my feet back on the ground etc etc.
People are great, my course/s look promising, sweet beaches - all in all I think it's shaping up to be a pretty good semester, as far as they go.

AND I JOINED A QUIDDITCH CLUB. woot!

Goa: Land of a Thousand Contented Sighs

It was so nice to spend a week here. Beaching, watersporting (parasailing=beautiful!), sipping mojitos, eating spicy seafood delights by candlelight right on the water, watching the glowing palm-silhouetting red sun sink into the ocean, finding hammocks, riding bikes, getting massages, playing frisbee, going dolphin-watching in a little fishing boat, sipping fresh coconuts (with a shot of rum!), star-gazing, watching kingfishers diving in and about a waterlily-dotted swamp, papaya, papaya and more papaya (juice=nectar of the gods); staying in a little beach hut ON THE WATER going to sleep to the crash of waves; hanging with friends...


There was a bit of sunburn and some interesting chafing experiences, but all in all, pretty idyllic. Does life get much better? I think not.

Before we came away, I was like 'I don't want to just chill on the beach, we have nice beaches in Australia, I can do that anytime. I want to see stuff and do stuff and blah blah blah.' And then we got there, and I was like 'can we not go anywhere, please?' haha.
I realised that it's actually been a while since I did just sit on a beach and think about nothing more than my next dip and my next meal and my next papaya juice. No things to do, no places to be, no complicated relationships, decisions, commitments. None of the pressures I usually put on myself without even noticing... So I just sat back and sighed contented sighs and soaked it all up. (and there were some damn good people to share it with too, I must say :)


Still India though, so just one story. This one time we had dinner at a little beach restaurant and the young waiter was very chatty. We'd finished dinner and were enjoying our last cocktail and he was lingering again and asks 'you like porpies? wanna see my porpies?'
'huh? what do you mean?'
'wanna see porpies?'
'what, you mean porpoises, like dolphins?'
'porpies. I go get.'
And he comes back with two gorgeous big fluffy puppies!! hahaha. Totally not what I was expecting. So we had to ooh and aah over them. They were pretty cute really. And he was so in love with them, so that was a bit cute too. I'm not sure everyone present fully enjoyed the experience.. (fleas, anyone?) and when another waiter thought he was missing out on all the attention and came over to join the conversation as well, we took our leave.
A waiter bringing his puppies for show and tell?
Only in India.

Too Much Happy for One Face

Imagine you have been travelling for over 24hrs. By taxi, train, steam train, bus, truck and foot. You stumble into a campsite 3000m up on the side of a mountain in the jungle. There are over 100 others milling around: around 70 gypsy and irula kids (with some of the younger parents), indian leaders and camp staff from several states, other volunteers from several countries.
It's getting dark. It's also getting cold. You grab stuff from the truck, try to work out sleeping arrangements, hand out jumpers and jackets to poor kids who have never experienced cold, altitude, isolation from any form of civilisation - in short, anything like this before. Shell-shocked? I think so.

There aren't enough big jumpers, and so the tallest boys end up with some horribly short ones. They _all_ want ones with hoods, and you are overwhelmed by choruses of "cap, cap, cap.. friend, cap? Want cap". You all gobble down some hearty curry and rice, huddle around the fire, learn a fun song and watch a hilarious story be told (well, they listened too - I just didn't understand any!) and as soon as possible, head to bed.

The next morning is bitterly cold. If you were brave, you might have dragged yourself out of bed earlier than you needed to, and stumbled down to the lake. You would have seen mist feathering up off its sapphire depths as the day awoke.
You would have returned to the campsite and joined the shivering children; fervently hugging tumblers of hot chai in icy hands, and hanging out for breakfast (more curry and rice).

The day warms with the sun, and you all relax a little. You begin getting to know eachother. You learn more songs, play games, have competitions, try your hand at archery, maybe go walking and skipping through fern-lined streams and gorges, kids trailing from your hands and arms, taking off, hanging back, yelling, fighting, grinning, begging, learning names, forgetting names..

By the second day, you have come to expect the cold sweeping in. You know that you will get three square meals and plenty of tea. You know that there are a whole stack of people here who are filled with love and joy and compassion and you can't help seeing and feeling it.
The kids are still a little crazy, but the fighting and arguing is no longer a constant. There are many many more smiles than frowns. You really can't believe the change. So soon? And even the angry gypsy lady that yelled all the time and no one liked? Even she is smiling. And gleefully singing snatches of song.

By the end of the 2nd day, no one wants to leave. I'm not going to forget the shining eyes of kids kayaking for the first time - or the guts of those girls trying out abseiling.

On the last day, apparently one little boy burst out "TOO MUCH HAPPY!" That's exactly how I felt too, in this beautiful place, with these people.

This really sounds a bit too sentimental or romantic, I know. Couldn't really have been like that. People don't just change like that. (And of course they were -we are all- still far from perfect!)
But it was real. Something happened. We felt it and saw it and were blessed by this crazy community that grew together. Who knows what will happen when we all go back home - so many back to just surviving on a pittance from day to day, begging and pleading their way forward. Who knows? But I do hope and trust that those bits of peace and love will take root and keep growing. The Creator keep somehow working his redemptive magic.

Useful Bengali for aforementioned volunteering!

If you ever happen to go..


Hello: Namaste/namaskaar
What's your name? Apni nam kiatche (or just nam ki)
I'm Jasmin: Nam Jasmin
How are you? kemanacho
good/very good: palo/kupalo
not feeling well: bet ache
Wait: dara
Soon: ekokpare
Come: aasho
Don't go: jeo naa
stop: thamun
What do you want? kitabe
What is it? ami janina
I don't understand: ami bujina
eat: ka
finished: huegatche
thankyou: donyobad
no: na

..I think I learnt about half of these!