Basket cases and other anecdotes

I think the presentation went well, yesterday. Had some clear and astounding successes, made some clear and astounding mistakes (not the least of which was forgetting my pants, darn it). At the end of it all, my uncle Lako, who is a professor of African studies at the Claremont Colleges, stood up and pounded his chest, beamed with pride, and gave me a bear hug. So I'm satisfied with the outcome. Alex de Waal is here, which is kind of giddy amazing. And many others are here too who are of that same caliber. I found out that my uncle Darius was once a law clerk in Sudan. I had no idea! So when I feel like an ignorant child, I have to remember, the folks I'm speaking with are activists on the ground, professors, and some of the most controversial social movers in the country. (And by that, I mean people who have been imprisoned for their political activities, chiefs, ministers, etc.) I need to ease up on myself.

This is just amazing. I can't even organize what I'm writing, there is so much to say. Like all the people here -- German, Norwegian, Austrian, Swedish, Sudanese, Canadian, American, Mexican. We have young people and old people, Arabs and Fur and Christians and "animists" (the connotations of that word makes me giggle). There is a lot of anger in the conference room, but twice as much laughter, and everyone gets along despite the controversy of ideas. In fact, perhaps we get along because of the controversy of ideas. Having a safe space to express our thoughts allows us all to learn about one another, like one another. I wrote this last year in my old MySpace blog (which I have since taken down) -- I am amazed at how well Sudanese can handle sadness and anger. They just laugh at it. Happiest people in the world. One professor said that in the North, they have this phrase: "It is like a block of ice. It will melt away."

The presentations yesterday were fantastic. I left a little bit early, when the world started smooshing together in weird angles and sliding over itself, and I started confusing dreams with reality. It's been a while since I've slept properly. I missed an impromptu discussion about recent violence in the suburbs of Khartoum with Mr. de Waal, but I was worried about what would happen if I didn't get to bed. Still, there was plenty that I did see.

One Parisian student from Norway spoke about developing "friendships" between the U.S., the U.K., China, France, and Sudan. She suggested that such alliances were necessary to make the Darfur Peace Agreement actually meaningful, and her whole presentation was spoken in the language I learned in Public International Law. With a French-Norwegian accent.

Another woman spoke for nearly 30 minutes about basket-weaving. Sounds boring, right? It wasn't. She started off by proclaiming the falsehood in the notion that Fur women are pitiful, weak victims in the genocide. She told the story of Zamzam, the warrior who managed the kingdom of Fur for her ailing brother and rode on horseback into battle, just like any man. She told us about another woman who raised orphans even though she had very little, herself. At one point, the government requisitioned her donkey for fighting, and this woman went and told off the general. "If I were part of the government, I would give you my donkey," she said. "But I am not. I am a poor woman raising orphans. You should be taking care of me!" And then she shamed the soldier into giving the donkey back. Basket-weaving, according to our presenter, is a continuation of this kind of personal empowerment. The creator comes up with her own design -- and you should see the colors! Rich blacks, bold reds, whites that almost burn. The designs reflect whatever they see. One woman made a design that looked just like the "no signal" image on her television. Another woman wove Arabic words into her basket when the northern Government declared that all women must learn how to read. The baskets are a strong creative expression made during a time of destruction. Despite the desertification rampant in the environment, these women have developed a network to obtain weaving materials from further south. And you can see pictures of them, gathered in the IDP camps, laughing and making their baskets. And they earn money this way, and make their own lives better. They save themselves from the genocide.

A Sudanese-American like me talked about learning Dinka in Cairo. She said that, in Dinka, the happy answer to the question "how are you" translates to "my heart, mind, and body are all together." Conversely, when you talk about being homesick, you say "I am here, but my heart is at home." ... I know that feeling.

Some presentations were just adorable. One woman from Germany had spent months researching Bari culture. The irony here: Two of our group members, my uncle Lako and my friend Scopas, ARE Bari. So they had a few things to say, where they thought the presentation had holes. (Like I said, it's hard to compete in this environment, as a foreigner.) One of the most precious moments occurred in the middle of this woman's Power Point. Ulrike, the presenter, is German, and she had some trouble with consistent translation and formatting. Her quote marks were backwards, forwards, inverted, and all over the place. She combined a lot of words, and every once in a while wrote in German without realizing it. Clearly, Ulrike has a good deal of respect for the Bari she was interviewing, which is what made this so funny ... in one header, she slipped back into German. Instead of writing "The Bari," she wrote "Die Bari." You could see the giggles hiccuping through the crowd when that title popped up.

I made mistakes, too. One of the FAO papers I relied on was incorrect, or just dated. Oops. Naseem Badiey, an American at Oxford who will be presenting on a very similar topic, was able to correct me on that point because she has been in direct contact with the mayor of Juba. She says she'll pass some of her sources on to me. Another gentleman who spent some time in Rumbek asked me to think more about the development of the Southern Sudanese Land Commission, the Interim Constitution of Southern Sudan, and the Sudanese People's Liberation Movement's desire for rule by the communities. I asked him for more sources. And my new friend from U. Khartoum wrote a very heated response to my suggestion that Sudan adopt a pluralist government system similar to the U.S. I will have to be careful about how I phrase that in the future. I don't mean that Sudan should mimic U.S. policies and structure. All I meant was that it seems as though the national government will be taking care of cross-border issues, and the local governments will be taking care of internal issues, with some control by the federal government over local practice where local practice threatens the survival of the state, and some control by local governments over federal practice where federal practice threatens a local way of life. From here on out, I will excise the words "Western," "U.S." and "developed" from my writing unless I have no other choice. They provoke a strong negative reaction.

On a positive note, I got more response to my presentation than any other speaker. People were just excited -- the southerners were glad to see the root of the issue addressed, and solutions proposed. Apparently people have been talking around this topic for a while, afraid to step onto an emotional land mine. Northerners were curious about my proposals on how to balance cultural and economic needs by securing easements, leases, exactions and consultations with the involved communities. Women wanted to know more about gender issues. Foreigners wanted a clearer explanation of the North / South divide. I had answers for all of them, and could point to specific sources. It was fantastic. And I had, by far, the most technically savvy Power Point out there, and I finished within the allotted time. It made me proud. Law school and journalism have done me some service.

I can certainly see a paper developing out of all of this:

Part I: Explanation about why land use in the South is such an important topic, with historical background and comparison to conflict in the rest of the peripheral states
Part II: Description of cultural practices in the rural areas
Part III: Description of the clash between culture and development
Part IV: Description of urban planning issues, especially in Juba
Part V: Accommodating returnees and women
Part VI: Conclusions on the state law / cultural law split

It could easily be a dissertation, but I think for now I'll start with ten pages per section. Besides, I'm still nervous about going to visit. And I don't know that this can be a dissertation until I live in Sudan for a few months.

Oh help. Look at me. I'm talking about a Ph.D. I'd better watch my mouth.

Anyway, Uncle Lako filmed me giving my talk. If the sound came out, I'll post the video (and videos of other people talking) as soon as I get home to my USB cable.