“Whoever was tortured, stays tortured”

Posted on July 19, 2010 by doradueck

I’d like to draw attention to – and recommend — “Living with the Enemy,” an essay by Susie Linfield, which applies the ideas of Holocaust survivor Jean Améry to the current challenge of reconciliation in Rwanda. (It appeared in today’s Arts and Letters Daily, my Safari homepage.)

She begins,

“Reconciliation” has become a darling of political theorists, journalists, and human-rights activists, especially as it pertains to the rebuilding of postwar and post-genocidal nations. Nowhere is this more so than in the case of Rwanda. Numerous books and articles on the topic—some, though not all, inspired by Christian teachings—pour forth. It can plausibly be argued, of course, that in Rwanda—and in other places, like Sierra Leone and the Balkans, where victims and perpetrators must live more or less together—reconciliation is a political necessity. Reconciliation has a moral resonance, too; certainly it is far better than endless, corpse-strewn cycles of revanchism and revenge. Yet there is sometimes a disturbing glibness when outsiders tout the wonders of reconciliation, as if they are leading the barbarians from darkness into light…

Linfield discusses Améry’s writings, then draws on the trilogy of Jean Hatzfeld (which I reviewed here and in three subsequent posts last March), as well as the work of Primo Levi and photographer Jonathan Torgovnik to remind that “whoever was tortured, stays tortured.”

There’s much that could be said about forgiveness and reconciliation that’s not the least bit glib, but of course Linfield is right. The way we inevitably go at it, in our hopes for — and advice to — others whose torments we have not shared, never mind understood, is too quick. We like happy endings, and the sooner the happier. Linfield’s essay slows our expectations. It challenges our minds about what’s really at stake in a lasting reconciliation.

Rich vocabulary for the beautiful game

Posted on July 2, 2010 by doradueck

Normally I’m not much of a sports fan, but for the big events like the World Cup, I also get involved, enjoying the televised dramas of athletes and nations, and the remarkable skillfulness and intricacies of what’s been called “the beautiful game.”

A bonus in this particular series is listening to the play by play commentary of the announcers (British they seem to be). I’m not the first person to mention this. Early in the series I recall a newspaper writer saying he’d taped an otherwise unremarkable game just to listen to the way it was called. The announcers have at their disposal a rich and fascinating vocabulary, drawn sometimes from the world of epic battle, sometimes from the earthy informality of schoolboys playing on a neighbourhood vacant lot, and it streams from them quite unstudied, it seems, as if they always talk in such vivid and varied ways.

I jotted down a few examples from today’s Ghana-Uruguay game. It was a “potentially crackling game,” though as the game progressed to its end with a tie, no prediction could be “forthcoming.” When one team did something well after a sluggish stretch, they were “rejuvenated.” A good opportunity stopped by the defense? They’d made “a total hash of that.” The Ghanians, it was declared, have “an insatiable appetite for work.” Something happened “in the winking of an eye” and a saved ball landed in the keeper’s “welcoming arms.”

It’s the game’s pace, perhaps, that leaves a little more room for adjectives than (our game) hockey’s “he gets the pass, he shoots, he scores.” One play was “a valiant job,” another “a heart-stopping moment.” On one play, the defenders not only defended but “bravely” defended.

Verbs of all sorts too, of course — strong and varied ones. Players “instigated” plays, the crowd was “roaring in anticipation” (and later, “had another blow on the vuvuzuela.”)

When Gyan missed the penalty kick in the last moments of overtime, he had his “glory snatched away, but he served his country well enough.” And when he stepped up for his turn at the deciding penalty kicks, “the whole of Africa [was] praying lightning doesn’t strike twice.”

Once, after a number of attempts on goal during regular play, the announcer said that no shots had been “particularly cogent.”

Did he just say cogent?

Beautiful game indeed.

Truth and Reconciliation Commission: Days Three and Four

Posted on June 19, 2010 by doradueck

Day Three, rain and more rain, all day, and the large commissioner’s tent deserted because of the sogginess and the sharing circle moved into a room at the theatre building at the Forks.

The miserable weather affected attendance and some pieces of the event had to be cancelled. I don’t know whether it’s a cultural thing or just the underlying sombre nature of the event itself lending perspective, but I didn’t hear a single complaint about it, however. I was struck by this, it seemed so unusual. The only one who mentioned the rain, in fact, was a woman in the sharing circle, and she said she was thankful because it was adding tears to the sorrow of memories. And, said another, “we have many tears to shed.”

I was happy that H. could take some time from work and come with me. I would describe to him when I came home what I was seeing and hearing these days, but it’s different actually experiencing it together. We spent several hours witnessing the sharing circle, and also watched a new play by Ian Ross called “Fabric of the Sky.” The play was about a man who had not been a good father to his son because of his residential school experiences. Then as he finally opened up about it, the gap between him and his son began to close.

The point of the play could hardly be missed and so it felt a little didactic, but still, it was well done, and the point does need emphasizing. We’d heard so much of that in the stories: as children finally learn and began to understand what their parents have gone through, they begin to understand and even forgive the ways in which they have also been damaged by their parents’ lack of love and other behaviours.

Day Four — today — and a lovely day, clear and sunny. I returned to the Forks for a few more hours of listening, this time to some conversation in the interfaith tent: “signs of reconciliation and reflecting on our experiences.” There were more than a few interesting moments here. Continue reading →