Clowns Without Borders - USA

May

Volunteers: Sarah Liane Foster, Jaime McLaren Lachman, and Matt Chapman

Journal

Jamie’s Journal: May 27th – Last day in Pigg’s Peak

We have finally made it back to Pigg’s Peak where it all started 18 days ago.  The Swazi clowns were delighted to arrive home on Thursday.  To see their children or parents, feed the chickens, or just breathe the smoky mountain air once again.  Yesterday’s performances at the Positive Vision for Swaziland (www.positivevisionforswaziland.org) crèches was much more relaxed and playful.  It is a wonder what a night’s sleep in one’s own bed will do to the spirit.  Of course, it has been a while since I have had that fortune…not even sure if there is a place I can call my own bed anymore.  Ah, the life of an itinerant clown!

This morning is our first lazy Saturday in a while.  Instead of waking up at 5:00 to the crow of roosters perched on our window sill, Matt, Sarah, and I manage to sleep in until 6:30.  The extra hour and a half has us groggy and slow but ready for the day. After breakfast of Jungle Oats, the standard Swazi fare, we head into town to meet Sibusiso and Mancoba.  Sarah and Matt have promised to teach them how to use the internet and create an email account so we can communicate overseas.  The lesson is yet another reminder of how much we take for granted: moving a mouse cursor, opening a web page, typing your name in, and even finding the @ key are all foreign concepts to them. However, so was taking a bath in a basin with boiling water or making a pot of pap to us two weeks ago.

At 12:30, the entire cast meets at the Positive Vision to get ready for our final show.  We will be performing at a community candlelight vigil for victims of HIV/AIDS organized by the Alliance of Mayors and Municipal Leaders on HIV/AIDS in Africa (AMICAAL).  The vigil is slated for this afternoon because many of the participants have far to travel afterwards; on a Saturday night, this can be dangerous, especially after payday.  Thabile Ndlovu, the local coordinator for the event, has asked us to help gather an audience by parading from the Score Supermarket on Main Street to the community hall where we rehearsed for our show two and a half weeks ago.  As per usual in Swaziland, there is confusion as to where and what time we must start and exactly what the program will be. Nevertheless, like so many times before, a little patience goes a long way to easing anxiety and confusion.  We have learned to let things unfold instead of forcing them to happen exactly when they must. With a little trust everything turns out just okay or even better than expected.
Just as we are about to load up Chongololo (our Imperial Car Hire donated truck) and head to the starting point, Nconbile approaches me to tell me that she will not be joining us tonight for our celebration because she needs to catch a taxi to Manzini in central Swaziland.  She has just learned that her sister’s niece has been killed in a car accident.  It happened a week ago but her family decided to wait until Nconbile returned from the tour before telling her.  This is the second daughter her sister has lost due to car accidents this month.   Afraid that she will disappoint the team, Nconbilie says she will perform and then leave straight after even though she is unsure if there will be transportation at that late hour.  Here we are, met with death - a constant reminder during the expedition of how life hangs in a tenuous balance here in Swaziland.  We assure her that it is more important for her to be with her family at this time.  Although we will miss her and her outstanding Women’s Empowerment sketch, it is clear that she must leave straight away to catch the bus.  After tearful goodbyes and save journeys, our wonderful partnership and collaboration has begun to come to an end.  As Chongololo pulls away, Nconbile waves one last time and then walks with her head held high towards the taxi and bus rink.

I guess an important lesson I have learned is that one must move on in life and accept what is happening without either liking or disliking it.  Things are always changing and it is up to us to adjust and move forward.  The dampened enthusiasm of the team is reignited while we march through the streets of Pigg’s Peak.  This is our final performance and first public show in Pigg’s Peak for many of the cast.  Sarah towers on stilts above the group sending bubble’s through the air.  Khosi and Mancoba juggle while Pilile and Sibusiso hold hands with children who have joined us.  I move in and out of the crowd with an umbrella rigged to look like it is raining on this beautiful blue-sky day.  Kids squeal with laughter running out of the way.

In the community hall, the mood is muted with somber remembrance of those who have passed away.  Speakers alternate with choirs and traditional dances commemorating the vigil.  When it is our turn to perform, the atmosphere brightens.  The Balloon Funeral sketch is both hilarious and fitting for the occasion.  A local eccentric performer joins us onstage to delight of the crowd.  Instead of my usual gibberish sermon, Sibusiso and I step out of the clown and talk about the balloon as a symbol of life – precious, yet fragile.  In Swaziland, before we can even begin to talk about prevention, acceptance of the threat of HIV/AIDS and removal of the stigma is the first step.  Many both in the audience and onstage have lost a father, mother, brother, sister, child, or more to HIV/AIDS.  The trauma is real and immediate.  Yet, there is still hope.  Just as the broken balloon turns into a red nose, joy and celebration can be reborn out of death and mourning.  As we sing “Siani Thanda (we love you), Positive or Negative, in our final song and dance number, our message is simple:  together, we can overcome HIV/AIDS.

Afterwards, the MC of the event approaches Sibusiso and I to thank us for our participation.  “It is so important, what you are doing,” he tells us.  “Bringing humor into the struggle opens our eyes and our hearts.  People listen and they enjoy themselves.  We can laugh and play and fight HIV at the same time.  Thank-you.”  I guess that is what this work is all about.  Using laughter and humor as a means to give people faith in the face of suffering.  To have the strength and hope that their dreams can be achieved.  To see that life is beautiful.

For now, this wonderful collaboration has come to a close as we are all heading in separate ways.  Sibusiso will support 3 children in school at his homestead.  Mancoba to take a driving course.  Pilile to care for her mother.  Khosi to continue learning about youth counseling.  Nconbilie to pursue a life in psychology.  Matt is back in New York City teaching clown and performing with his company, Under the Table (www.underthetabletheatre.org).  Sarah is leading a group of teenagers to create and perform in California with Windsor Mountain.  I am back in Joburg getting ready for the next trip as well as a return to the United States to raise awareness of our work on the West Coast.  Another experience with new challenges to encounter and much more laughter to spread.
Thanks so much for all your wonderful responses while on the road.  They have been heartwarming, inspiring, and so supportive!
May you be full of peace and happiness,
Jamie

PS – If you want to support the expedition and help us continue to do our work providing laughter and emotional relief to children affected by HIV/AIDS in Southern Africa, you can always send a tax deductible donation made out to “Clowns Without Borders” with “Project Njabulo” in the memo to 21 Arnoldale Rd., West Hartford, CT 06119.  We are also always looking for places to visit in the US to raise awareness and funds and would love to come to your hometown to spread the word!

Sarah’s Journal:Sunday, May 21, 2006

Pilile and I wake up very early on a lazy Sunday morning. I still feel queasy from a stomach virus but my fever has subsided. We have a quick breakfast and slip outside into the rising sun and dust. Pilile has heard that her mother was admitted to the Piggs Peak hospital yesterday so we are heading up to check on her and see how she is doing. As we drive through the beautiful hills of Swaziland, passing morning churchgoers and cattle, Pilile tells me that her mother, Monicah, has come home but has a bad case of Tuberculosis that has exacerbated in the cold winds of oncoming winter. She is on anti-retrovirus (ARVs) medication for HIV as well as the first round of TB treatment. It has been difficult for Pilile to leave Piggs Peak for a week to perform with us as she is her mother’s primary caregiver. Thabila, her sister, has been helping her out buying groceries and checking in. I later learn that since she is mostly confined to their home, Monicah takes care of Guduza, Pilile’s 3 year old boy.

We drive through the now very familiar main street of Piggs Peak and turn off onto a dirt road after the last store. Piggs Peak is a timber town in northwestern Swaziland high in the hills about an hour from Mbabane. Most people here work for one of the South African timber companies that own the factory forests that surround the town. Negotiating some bumpy terrain, our vehicle pulls up outside a cluster of mud homes with corrugated tin roofs – Pilile’s home. She greets the neighbors who are surprised to see her before the end of the tour. We then enter her home where her mom has been resting. It is very cold this morning. Even inside, the wind cuts through the cracks of the two room house chilling us to the bone. The ground is shrink wrapped with white plastic over mud. Three beds crowd a makeshift kitchen counter in the front room. Water jugs lie near the door to be carried 100 feet to a nearby communal pump. A window struggles to fight back the wind that pushes against the clear plastic panes. Monicah sits on one of beds in an old coat that is ripped in many places. She exclaims with pleasure at the sight of her eldest daughter – it is an unexpected delight after a very difficult day yesterday. They talk for a couple minutes in siSwati about the hospital visit Thankfully, she is feeling better though her cough persists. Last night the whole family hid under a table from the mountain winds. I can only think that this is probably one of the worst living situations for someone with TB and HIV. It is enough to be sick without having to fend off the cold.

The conversation turns to a polite English to accommodate the Western visitor who sits a little uncomfortably on a bed. Monicah asks me how Pilile is doing in with the tour. I tell her that she is doing wonderfully as the Boss Clown of the show, “Madam!,” and that the Statue Routine with Sibusiso and Matt is one of our funniest sketches. Even though Pilile has never acted before this week and still has a lot to learn about theatre, she makes great strides each day with her amazing fire when on stage and ability to knock an audience silly with one wide-eyed look. She absolutely loves clowning!

Reaching into a black shopping bag, Pilile shows her mother a pair of blue sequined shoes bought in Mbabane for Mother’s Day. “They are for going for church and hospital,” she tells her. Monicah loves them and instantly takes her slippers off to strut around the room. “Ay, kuhle! (their so pretty),” I say in my basic siSwati. We clap a rhythm while she dances in delight.

Suddenly, the door swings open and Guduza bursts in with a big hug for his mom. She wipes the endless stream of mucus from his nose and immediately starts smothering him with motherly love. “He is closer to his grandmother but he is still my boy,” she tells me. I show Guduza a little sleight of hand magic and some basic juggling. He is shy but slowly opens up with a big smile hiding from between his mother’s legs. After about another 15 minutes of quiet conversation and games with a few of the red noses I brought with me, Pilile tells me it is time to go back to Mbabane. “I am now relieved even after a quick visit.” There is a march organized by the World Food Program for orphans and vulnerable children that we want to join if we arrive in time. The children from the SOS Children’s Village are performing their traditional dances and songs in the big square downtown – it would be lovely to see them.

As we leave Pilile and Monicah’s home, I pause at the door and send a silent prayer for a less biting wind tonight. I know it probably will not be answered but at least there is hope. On the way out of town, we swing by the Score Supermarket to buy Monicah a big chicken, some pap, chips, and high-Vitamin C juice for dinner. We end up getting a huge bag of chicken wings and breasts for a stew to last her the week until Pilile returns.

Later, Pilile tells me that she is so happy we were able to visit. Usually a reticent, proud and strong woman, she laughs tonight more then ever before with the rest of the group. She also volunteers to become team Time Keeper giving us warnings on departures and schedules. It is a different woman from the one yesterday who was quiet and worried. On this day off, I guess we have taken a simpler path in providing emotional and physical support to those who need it most. Just a friendly visit and some good food to warm the body and the soul.

Jamie’s Journal:  May 20th

It is Saturday, late morning, here in Mbabane, the capital of Swaziland – our first day off after 2 weeks of training and performing.  The autumn air is sharp and crisp with the sunshine casting beautiful shadows on the surrounding hills near the SOS Children’s Village where we are staying.  I am sitting on my bed with the shivers from a little stomach flu as I try to catch up on the work that has piled up over the week.  In the other room, Sarah Liane Foster and Matt Chapman play hot dice with our siSwati partners of the Piggs Peak Clowns Initiative, Sibusiso, Mancoba, Nconbile, Pilile, and Kosi.  The sounds of the dice hitting the table and roars of “Nothing!” tell me that the group is grateful for a day of rest.  Our schedule has been grueling from the time we arrived in Piggs Peak to yesterday when we performed 3 shows for children in nearby primary schools.  In the last 5 days, we have done 11 performances around Mbabane at Drop-in Centres, primary schools, and high schools.  Our focus on this expedition is quite different from previous trips when we could afford to devote our energies entirely to working with the children.  Beyond the routine of the shows and rehearsals, a lot of our time is spent developing group dynamics, teaching clown technique and stagecraft, and managing the logistics of feeding and organizing 8 performers.  We are collaborating with more siSwatis than expected – Sibusiso, the group leader, has organized a troupe of 7 performers that have been rehearsing and practicing three days a week for the past month.  While we would have loved to bring everyone along, we have been limited by our means of transportation.  Thankfully, a wonderful donation of a Nissan pickup truck from Imperial Car Rental has allowed us to take five siSwati performers with us from Piggs Peak.

All of our partners have been affected by the HIV/AIDS epidemic in one way or another.  Death is a reality here.  One has lost 2 brothers in the past year, another takes care of her sick mother at home in Piggs Peak, yet another is positive with HIV.  Although their experience performing is limited by opportunities and education, their desire to use the clown and laughter to address the crisis is very strong.  Pilile tells me that there is nothing she wants to do more than to raise awareness about the virus and prevention – it is her life’s work.

Our first week is focused on rehearsing our show and creating a common understanding of our intentions and purpose. Matt and Sarah facilitate many “Getting-to-know” the group games.  Garth, our South African partner and all-round genius at clowning, costume-design, cooking, and scrabble, teaches juggling to Mancoba and Kosi who pick it up very quickly.  We share routines and work to create a show with themes of HIV/AIDS prevention and psychosocial support.  However, the main thrust of our show is a celebration of fun and laughter as well as playing with the inherent comedy found in a multi-national and racial group working together.  We would have loved to develop more direct routines about HIV/AIDS but have had to make allowances due to the short time we have together.  Nevertheless, it is our hope that the group will take from the experience of creating and performing new material so that the work of Clowns Without Borders can continue after we leave.

There is certainly a lot to learn!  Comic timing, awareness on stage, playing a character, vocal projection, working with a volunteer, directing the audience’s focus, and being a clown are all new concepts to many of them.  At the same time, we are learning so much about siSwati culture, gender dynamics, and language.  When we sit around the dinner table eating a Thanksgiving-style meal each night and laughing at each other’s quirks and jokes, I feel that we are making great strides in bridging two very different worlds united together for the purpose of bringing happiness to those in need.

In Mbabane, it is lovely to revisit many of the schools we performed at last year.  The children seem to appreciate the biracial makeup of the group and respond positively to the mixture of siSwati language, culture, and classical Western comedy routines – something never seen before in Swaziland.  Our return to the SACRO Drop-in Centre for a morning show for street children is greeted with hugs and kisses from the community social workers. “Siyabonga for coming back!” they tell us. Many of the youth that Tim and I taught juggling outside the SOS cottage still remember their three ball tricks and cluster around Mancoba to learn some more.  Boys and girls shout out “Awoogah!, awoogah!” when we pass them in the streets.  What new catch phrases will they pickup after this visit?

We close out our residency in Mbabane with a final farewell show for the children at SOS Children’s Village.  As the setting sun shoots pink and purple rays into the dust filled evening, about 50 children huddle together in the twilight.  They gasp at the gigantic bubbles Kosi conjures with a wand to begin the show, echoe Matt’s attempt at pronouncing “akuhlobe” (clean it up) and “ngiyabuya” (I will return) with shrieks of laughter, cackle at Sibusiso’s offering of a rubber chicken to Nconbile (“Chicken Licken?”) in our Women’s Empowerment sketch, and blink with amazement at Sarah’s agility on the stilts chasing after Mancoba.  Afterwards, Sarah and I play music on the banjo and trombone for at least an hour singing and dancing into the early evening.  After our first week, everything is coming together wonderfully as an ensemble and a team.  This really is a beginning of something special – something that will continue to grow and surprise us each day.

Matt’s Journal, May 17th:

I am writing from Pigg’s Peak, in Swaziland, and I don’t know where to begin.  I suppose it’s not even been a couple of weeks, but time is  dilated to such an extreme point for me at this moment, and so much has occurred, that it seems to have been much much longer. We met all together in Johannesburg, South Africa.  When I say “we” at this point, I’m referring to Sarah, Jamie, and I- the American clowns on this expedition.  We stayed there for a few days, staying at the house of Garth the Juggler, a South African clown and modest genius with a small juggling ball factory in the back of his place- the only  one in all of Africa.  The town was pretty interesting; the remnants of Apartheid are everywhere, and they are sometimes surprising: one day at the grocery store, thunderous applause erupted when a white person was arrested for shoplifting…

 
After gathering supplies and rehearsing, we set out for Swaziland. For those of you who don’t know (and don’t feel bad; it’s tiny), Swaziland is a small landlocked nation mostly surrounded by South Africa, and which shares a small border with Mozambique.  It is one of  (I think) two remaining absolute monarchies in the world.  The HIV rate here is 42% of the adult population, and the life expectancy is 32.

A midnight flat tire later, we arrived and have been here for five  days since.  We are working on the show here, collaborating with a troupe of Siswati clowns who live in the area, and who use clowning to educate kids about HIV/AIDS, from prevention to treatment to destigmatization.  They had such an intention to get the information  out to the youth (some of them are peer educators on the topic), that we began making the show centered around helping them do that. Before we got here, we didn’t know how many of them would really be able to participate.  We had to wait and see what the deal was going  to be upon arrival.  As it turned out, there were several of them, and they were all completely excited.  Our focus as a team turned from making a show for the kids to fusing these companies from completely different cultures.  We’ve been working huge long days, early in the  morning, at a community center in this small town.  We spend the days working on the show with the Siswati clowns, learning about Swazi culture from them, and helping them with their acts… technique, juggling, stilt walking…  they are incredible and so talented.  Clown, and even performance, are new to several of them, and it’s great to see them come so far in just a few days. Working so closely with them has been so illuminating.  They are living in a COMPLETELY different life situation than we have been, and  we meet together in a love of laughter and a desire to play together and bring this work to these kids whose lives are so full of pain, loss, and difficulty.

 
I know I sound corny and cliche, but the fact is that so many of my  realizations and observations since arrival fall into that category, and I’ve given up trying to rephrase it all, or to make it sound more jaded or whatever it would take to say what I’m feeling in any other way.

 
After working with the Siswati clowns for a couple of days (two of whom have CLICK SOUNDS in their NAMES, which makes them hard to remember, and even more difficult for white people to pronounce), we realized some things about their situation.  The unemployment rate here is at least 40%.  Some of the nieghborhoods have no water or electricity.  Some of the actors are walking miles to get to a bus to take them into the town every morning so they can do this work.  Several of them are extremely poor, and we realized that we had to bring breakfast to the rehearsals if we wanted them to have food; it just isn’t available to them otherwise.  One of them lost 3 brothers last year  (at least 2 to AIDS), another lost 2 siblings, and that’s  just the ones I’ve heard about.

 
The leader of their group is an amazing man named Sibusiso.  He is hilarious, and a great member of the ensemble.  He’s 32 years old, HIV positive, supports three children, and apparently lives in something  like a mud shack.  He talks about being HIV positive, which makes him an absolute anomaly in this place, where few people understand or talk about this disease, which is shrouded in myth and prejudice, and will soon have killed a massive percentage of the population. Even though this death and poverty surrounds them, the people here are so open and friendly; everyone smiles and everyone has welcomed us in with open hearts.  The actors have put so much energy into this  project, and we are really forming a good little group.  On the road there will be five of them and three of us, and the gender balance is equal.  It’s a fun mix, and the show should be great. The kids here are suckers.  I guess kids everywhere are suckers.  Nonetheless, every little kid we walk past- on stilts or in a clown nose or with a simple magic trick- just laughs and screams until we leave.  The shows for hundreds or thousands of them should be a blast. We leave tomorrow for Mbabane, the capitol, for three shows a day for the next two or three weeks there and in another town called Nhlangano, which is also difficult to say.  I’m sure that I will be learning more and we’ll be having some incredible experiences once we  get out to the kids, and I’ll let you all know how it goes. Thank you all for all of your continuing support.

 
peace.
Matt

Sarah’s Journal, Date: May 16, 2006

Hello from hilly Swaziland!
I’m here on an expedition with Clowns Without Borders. Swaziland is a tiny, landlocked country that borders South Africa to the west and Mozambique to the east.  Out of the population of 1 million, an estimated 42% are HIV positive, and the life expectancy is 32. Many of the people we meet here, some of whom we’re working and performing with, live in extreme poverty, and have lost many family members to disease and accidents. In the face of all of this, the people we meet are almost across the board extremely warm and welcoming, ready to play.

 
It’s been about a week since we drove late at night into Pigg’s Peak, Swaziland – 3 of us from the United States plus Garth, a South African juggler, magician, and humble genius of circus skills. It had been tricky to communicate in advance with the siSwati clowns who were to collaborate with us. Sibusiso, our main contact, who Jamie met on an expedition last year, does not have email or a consistent phone. We went to sleep, 2 of us in the office of our host organization and 2 at the orphanage they run down the road, not knowing how many clowns the next day would bring us. Maybe just Sibusiso … maybe a couple more. Sibusiso came to meet us at 8:30 the next morning. He is a small, effusive man with shining eyes. On stage he is bright and hilarious. Unlike most of the people of Swaziland who are HIV positive (an estimated 44% of its 1 million citizens), he is very open about his disease, and eager to educate others about it. He has been training and rehearsing 3 times a week with a group of eight siSwati people who are similarly eager to perform, entertain, and educate. This is a larger group of collaborators than we expected!  We met with the full group that afternoon and narrowed it down to a quarum of 5 who could commit to 3 weeks of rehearsal and performance. They have very little experience - some have never performed at all. And so the focus of our expedition shifted somewhat. Now, along with the mission of entertaining children, helping to relieve trauma through laughter, we have an added mission of training a group of siSwati performers in clowning and performance.  We are teaching routines and principles of clowning, and learning more than I can describe from this group.

 
Words in English and siSwati fly through the air, as do bubbles, and people (since our basic acrobatics workshop). Two of the siSwati women have learned to walk on stilts now. I walked next to Ncobile as she struggled with fear and walked 7 feet tall down the road. “Sing me a song,” she says. I start singing and she joins in in harmony. Pilile, who flat out refused to touch a stilt at first, now walks around shouting “I am the tallest woman in Swaziland.”  Women’s empowerment is a huge issue in this country - men can have many wives (the king has at least 10); women must never wear pants once they are married; wives are often thrown out of the house if they even go and get tested for HIV. So it is good to have a couple of siSwati women walking 7 feet tall. In the show we built together, the female clowns almost always have higher status than the men. When Pilile hands Matt and Sibusiso dusters and orders them to clean, the crowd goes wild.  We are on the road now, performing 2-3 shows a day at elementary schools and orphanages. It’s mad and hard and hilarious. I’ll write more soon.

 
Be well,
Sarah