FSJL said...
Er, Nicholas, the poem is called Wan bon (One tree), not Wan, and it was originally written in Sranantongo, so it seems a little odd to me that it was translated into it! I met Dobru at Carifesta 76. He was an extraordinarily modest man. He needed to get from the Mona campus to the National Arena, and when I (as Mervyn Morris's gofer) took him over to the campus coordination centre and explained who he was, and that he was a member of the Surinamese parliament and consequently a VIP. He kept trying to downplay his status. He charmed a friend of mine a couple of years later, simply by reciting his poetry on a voyage from Cuba to Jamaica.
August 14, 2009 8:59 PM
Nicholas said...
Thanks for this note, Fragano. "Translated into ... Sranan" was a slip. I've corrected that--also the title. Glad you have such sharp eyes!
August 14, 2009 9:06 PM
Sranan said...
You have a sharp eye, but I was informed several times during the last years that the original title of the poem is Wan, and not as almost everybody calls it, Wan bon. Because it is about so much more than "just" one tree.
August 15, 2009 2:09 PM
Arnold Schalks said...
Hi Nicholas, first of all, I'd like to say, that I'm a little disappointed by the superficiality of the comments on the Someni tongo project. To put one thing right: Shrinivasi, the grand old man of Surinamese poetry included Dobru's poem in his unpeered 1970 collection of poetry 'Wortoe d'e tan abra', with the title: 'Wan'. If anyone, he should know. Apart from that, it is comprehensible that many will refer to Dobru's poem with its first line, 'Wan bon.' There's nothing wrong with that.
Secondly I sincerely hoped for comments on the project that would venture more deeply into the multi-racial, multi-cultural, and multi-lingual aspects of the community project and the present Surinamese reality beyond the words of the poet.
I don't want to sound immodest, but Someni tongo was an unprecedented event of historic proportions. It was the perfect example of teamwork. I still feel touched and honoured by the participants unconditional faith and trust in the project, which enabled us to show the ideal visualisation of Dobru's poem. I still admire the courage of the choir members, bridging the gap of ethnicity with great ease and naturalness, but most of all, enjoying doing that.The performance took place more than 9 months ago. A symbolic period. I hoped that Someni tongo would have a surplus value and would pave the way for similar Surinamese community projects in the future. The reflections I received on the project from the Surinamese art community has been relatively poor. That should not dissappoint me too much, because a genuine exchange of ideas on art with Surinamese colleagues had never really gotten off the ground before. That's a shame in view of Suriname's huge potential. I think that what any art community needs to develop itself and survive is an open mind and the capacity to criticize and receive critics that matter. I hope that this blog will be the starting point for a exchange of ideas on what art is for and what it should be about.
Sorry Fragano, for using your comment as a bridge to change the subject.....
August 16, 2009 2:03 PM
Nicholas said...
Thanks for your note, Arnold. I think Someni Tongo is a moving and important piece of work, and I hope that including it in this blog will bring it to the attention of a wider audience. I'm sure that in the coming days and weeks we'll see further comments about the project. The ideas you engage, the questions you raise about ethnicity, identity, nationhood, language, performance, and the relations between the visual and the literary are all deeply relevant to the wider Caribbean region.
August 16, 2009 2:51 PM
FSJL said...
No problem Arnold. I first encountered the poem on the wall of a fellow student at Mona. A Jamaican from St Thomas (the parish in Jamaica, not the Virgin Island) with the surname of Bogle (and thus a relative of the National Hero, whom he resembled).
The poem makes a statement, it seems to me, about something that isn't very fashionable today, the Creole identity of Caribbean people. It's something that's found also in the Surinamese national anthem, and in other proud assertions of nationhood across the region. It's something that many in the region have wanted to abandon in exchange for a poorly imagined Africa, or India, or even Indonesia. But, oddly, the actual dream seems to be America, or Canada, or Britain, or France, or Holland, or Belgium, or even Australia. Anywhere but the "ancestral homeland". But the idea of building a homeland out of the many skin colours and hair textures, one tree out of the many leaves, is not one that contemporary leaders seem to want Caribbean people to pursue. Yet that ought to be our thing.August 18, 2009 9:05 PM
Response: some thoughts on Someni Tongo
Part of the audience at the performance of Someni Tongo in the Palmentuin, 29 November, 2008
Chandra van Binnendijk
Just over two weeks ago, Paramaribo SPAN posted information on Dutch artist Arnold Schalks's Someni Tongo project (2008), which examined Suriname's cultural and linguistic diversity through a live performance of a celebrated poem. The comments left on the original post raised interesting questions about how this and other art projects are (or could or should be) received and interpreted by audiences and the wider art community.
Writer Chandra van Binnendijk, who witnessed the live performance of Someni Tongo, offers her personal response to the project and the resulting discussion.
I was one of the handful of people on that early Sunday morning in the Palmentuin nine months ago, there to watch the performance of Someni Tongo. There was a kind of silent conspiracy-like feeling, for being together for the event. The ones with cameras wanted to take pictures, but the best angle near the podium was not approachable: a vagrant had left a fresh turd right in that spot. And the manager of the Palmentuin refused to clean it up, for this was not his duty, he said.
It did not bother us at all: we
placed an old newspaper on top of it, we warned others not to step on it,
we moved around a little until everyone found his best place around the podium,
and then we watched and experienced and enjoyed the Someni Tongo performance.
All those tongues, speaking in all those different languages, expressing the
same lines -- it was special, it was beautiful, and more so because we were
there for the live experience.
The audience that morning left the Palmentuin with a feeling of upliftment,
of contentment.
Shouldn't a similar feeling of contentment remain with the one who created this beautiful experience? What happens to the artist when he is so attached to the fruit of his work that he feels disappointed when response and feedback from the public are not what he expects (or even feels he deserved)? When he is not praised or imitated? Where is the pure joy of creating?
I think art is exactly and only about this: the need to create and express what is uniquely inside you, and to do so because you have no choice. Something is envisioned, it wants to come into the world through you, and it can only be born through your effort. Full stop. No ulterior motives. Creation is making art -- not the aftermath.
Someni Tongo was beautiful. But in its significance it was not unprecedented. Over the years, Suriname has seen high-level performances of multi-racial, muli-ethnic, and multi-lingual performances. One example is the theatrical production Rebirth, by director Henk Tjon, which was presented at Carifesta 1981 in Barbados, with a dazzling combination and integration of all these aspects. There have been performances by the National Ballet of Suriname choreographed by Ilse-Marie Hajary, who created the Dogla style, in which she integrated Afro drumming and winti elements with classical Indian dance movements.
So multi-culti is not really new
for us. One should not overlook history -- we are able to reach heights because
we are standing on the shoulders of those before us. Tjon and Hajary were
not greeted with lavish standing ovations -- their work was not understood
at first. This takes time.
On that beautiful morning in the Palmentuin, we did not let the turd disturb
us. Because the performance was compelling. The experience was enough.
Art in itself is enough.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009 at 12:48 PM