celebration for garri's gypsi life!

and more dishes to break and more brooms to take care of
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iPsiIb4UlFo

ps. garri, volver to volverblog

Another

Another year, another age, the path continues.....Felicitaciones Garri!!!

Forging Dis-Location

an intense (actor-) network or the colombian hauntings?

guess what? i got this in the street today. in the AI South Korea's street fundraising/membership campaign. posters of people's faces elsewhere in the world.... and i do not even recognize or pay attention to who is who and who is from where in the posters. they are just familiar, nameless, dark faces in distant suffering....at least, this stops me on my way to post office.

on the picture, it says, "The children of Peace Community in San Jose de Apartado, Colombia. Since its establishment in March 1997, this community has been living in the threat of assassination by armed forces for last 10 years. As the community recently seeks to return to their own land which has been taken by the forces, the threats of attack are resuming. (See 'This Month's Appeal' for more details)"

I asked the activist what is the most major domestic issue they are working on right now. he says it is the issue of migrant labor and that they visit the detention centers for foreigners (which are indeed prisons for illegals). he continues, "but, it is very hard. there are problems of language and culture." hummmm, i pause for a second for this allusion to difference - too familiar but too vague. what does he really mean?

Politics of Pity? Yes, but, if it is all, then we just say Arendt was right and just party for her.

the activist looks slightly disappointed that i do not join their membership (which means monthly donations!) after making such a curious inquiries...i resume my walk to post office, and then find i did not bring the cds to send to colombia!!! IJUE PUTA!!!

Chinese Botero masturbating

..............................????

In the limbo

outside the window... i hear street cats mating...(almost a horror movie)






the one who is not used to the city...










the moving altar....now on my new little fridge...



and baru, kidnapped





at home, i ask,
"what is fieldwork?"




re-settling....
life is always a re-petition with little bit of difference...

Squizo...

 

I am deep into the muddied waters of the cienaga, but when I go up to the surface to grasp some air, I first hear Mammy, babu, and sawubona. The taxi buses that crown the streets just below my house are smelling of apartheid and Africa wakes up to be much more than the marketing name brand of the exotic other that I am used to seeing.

I’m in the middle of a huge pavilion in Sandton, the wealthiest part of town, a city within a city built on the fear of the other. As apartheid began to crumble, Joburg’s downtown center, the commercial and residential heart of the white city began to dissipate. People, that is whites, got scared and left to build Sandton, a suburb in the northern outskirts which today is the financial district and residential enclave of white money. As we drove there we were passed by ferarris and the parking lot had its own share of Roll’s and fancy cars. Then it was a wonderful trip into lots and lots of photography, and at night a performance on Afropolitanism, performed by a friend at the Joburg art gallery. We ended the night at a party at the old Joburg stock exchange.

Last night a quick run to take some friends back into the deep of Soweto, trying to remember the turns here and the landmarks there for our return out of yet another enclave of race and politics in a growing metropolis.

Today the rain and weather have taken me back to Bogota while I freeze my ass off in my little cottage and my feet tell me I am not in Africa. But I am.

Ps. Need to get a digital camera. But still, if I hadn’t I couldn’t pass on the aroma of the remolacha (beet) soup that I plan to devour only if for body heat and a yet unknown flavour.

Crossings...or dandiesc sojourns

The Advent of Spring

and goodbye to winter












and the question of what am I?
of what am I living for?
of where am I going?

Memories's connections

Lila Downs Life

Inside

                   

I humbly accept the envy I felt of seeing her, 

but it was also soothed 

by what her frontera voice can do across borders.

Publicity

A little publicity, although in this piece unknown but to us, doesn't hurt the ego....link

Dislocations in Uraba-Pics from the Neighborhood

Between purple leafs...









....the beautiful uraba gulf: a contested territory of druglords, arm-traffickers, outlaws and also, a new eco-tourist destination of neo-hippies...









... intrinsic and fascinating articulations of anti-globalized italians and liberation theologists remembering the dead...

...horses, garri, cameras...,





Memories from the Uraba neighborhood... a new outfit...

ReestablishingII

de-hairing/piercing: a desire to relocate

BODY: the site of the present and its discontents

Gleaning images and affects

• 

Present: Gleaning pasts and futures, memories and hopes,
Gleaning: Re-construction and De-construction in the middle of everyday life,
http://www.abc.net.au/arts/film/stories/s424327.htm

Reestablishing