Raining Madiba

The year is 2008, the month is August, and I am in South Africa, the land of my birth. It is a very chilly morning in the Cape as we set out for Groot Drakenstein prison, formally known as Victor Verster. It is so chilly in fact, that we make sure we have extra layers of clothing under our smart outfits. 

My husband and I are privileged to be invited to the unveiling of a 3,2 metre statue by the sculptor Jean Doyle.  This is no ordinary sculpture, for it commemorates a significant event in 1990, and a historic moment in Nelson Mandela’s walk to freedom.  

The bronze statue marks the spot outside the prison where Nelson Mandela took his first steps as a free man after twenty seven years. 

We drive from Cape Town to the Cape Winelands. As we approach the prison after an hour long drive, we go through at least three security checks, confirming for us that Madiba will indeed be present at the unveiling. He is! 

We are welcomed by Tokyo Sexwale, who commissioned the sculpture, into a huge marquee, erected especially for the event. We mingle with the other guests and are delighted when we are introduced to Ahmed Kathrada and Eddie Daniels, both of whom were on Robben Island with Nelson Mandela. We discover that it is Ahmed’s 79th birthday today and that Eddie is 80 years old, despite the fact that he looks as if he is in his late 60’s!

“Tell them about the day you stole the newspaper from Brother September when he was praying”, says Ahmed to Eddie, who replies that “It was a spur of the moment thing!”  We laugh together as this tale and others are shared.

Eddie tells us that they are healthy now in their old age because when they were young they did physcial labour, ate no fatty foods and had discipline! Realizing what he is referring to, we all burst out laughing again. 

The time for the unveiling arrives and we move outside. The wind is blowing and it is raining. My small umbrella keeps blowing inside out. Next to us stand the Brand family.  Mr Brand was Nelson Mandela’s prison warden. I look at him and am overwhelmed as I am confronted head on with the overwhelming power of forgiveness and reconciliation. 

To our right is a special tent that has been set up for Madiba and his family. 

Speeches are made and then the moment arrives. As the statue is unveiled, the skies open further and there is the most incredible downpour in that instant!  Perhaps I should not be surprised but I am. Such a downpour is considered a blessing in Africa. I am witnessing a special moment.  Not only those of us present, but all of nature, is applauding and approving. 

I decide that the rain will not deter me.  I cannot go home without at least one photo of Madiba.  I make my way as close as possible to the open-sided tent. A lady next to me shares her huge black umbrella with me as I hold up my camera and shakingly click. 

Later, my sms to my children reads, “Drenched but happy. Saw him. Love Mom”

Five years have passed and I now live in Dubai. In Abu Dhabi this week I attended the memorial service for Nelson Mandela, who passed away on 5 December. 

After the service, my dear friend Bahareh Amidi, who recited at the memorial, encouraged me to create an artwork as a tribute to Madiba. I got out my photos taken at the unveiling, picked up my iphone, and allowed my fingers to create a piece.

The resulting artwork is entitled “Raining Madiba” and depicts Nelson Mandela becoming a raindrop which blesses the entire world.

Today I was honored to share it at a special event in Dubai.  South Africans from all over the region gathered together with friends at the Al Habtoor Grand Hotel, to watch a live broadcast of Nelson Mandela’s funeral in Qunu, his rural home village in the Eastern Cape Province.

Thank you to Phebus Georgiades, secretary general of the South African Business Council in the UAE for allowing me to do so.  Mr Georgiades organized the memorial event in coordination with the South African Consulate General.  

Thank you to to all who have encouraged me and thank you to all who shared with me what they see in the artwork.

May "Raining Madiba" continue to foster reconciliation and love amongst us all.

Social Media - Bridging Cyberspace

A bridge, by definition, is a structure spanning and providing passage over a river, a road or the like. In the physical world, it spans two locations which are within a reasonable distance from each other. It enables one to get from here to there. 

When it comes to cyberspace, which is not localized but still very real, distance is no problem. In cyberspace - the mindspace we find ourselves in when using technology to communicate - time and space are at once both limitless and compressed. People from different time zones and different geographical locations are connected by the bridges of cyberspace. They are able to get from here2here. 

“When I see cyberspace, I see bridges. Perhaps I should say I see people, building bridges in cyberspace. Not bridges of steel, not even electronic bridges, but bridges of ideas that span the miles of physical space, cross the generations and connect people who would otherwise be unlikely ever to meet.” Dr Judi Harris 

Social media bridge cyberspace and are largely responsible for the incredible communication evolution currently taking place. They enable collaboration and sharing to take place without geographical, time or economical restraints. These bridges connect not only people, but also ideas, interests and cultures.

The builders of the bridges in cyberspace are its users aided by technology, but unlike in the physical world, each builder constructs only part of the bridge.  When a blog is published, a photo posted, an update made, or a tweet sent out, there are endless possibilities of where it will reach. The minute it is read or viewed, a connection is made, and one of many possible bridges is complete. 

The effects of cyberbridges are mind boggling, and today’s blog will be just one story in the bigger web of connections.

About a month ago I tweeted about an app which allows potential buyers to project art onto their walls to see what it will look like before they decide whether they should buy it or not. It was retweeted by the amazing artist Walt Pascoe, @waltpascoe, whom I have been following almost since I joined Twitter four years ago. Two weeks later his retweet was further retweeted by @irishetchings, an Irish artist based in Dublin.

!!!“@WaltPascoe: This looks promising RT @lindahollier: Amazing! Finestra App Projects Art Onto Your Wall http://t.co/CXpbxdE37H via @zite”

— Irishetchings (@irishetchings) July 14, 2013

When it appeared in my stream I was amazed.  I had never before made contact with anyone from Dublin, and this retweet arrived within a few days of our planned visit to Ireland. It appeared to me to speak of synchronicity. I have written about deep listening in cyberspace and felt I should pay attention. 

The three exclamation marks were the completion of a cyberbridge made possible by social media and would lead to quite an adventure.

I discovered that @irishetchings was Camilla Fanning, whose primary medium is etching. Particularly drawn to the fact that a recurring theme of her work is collective memory and shared imaginings I further explored her website.

Her blogs “Strumpets” and “Waiting for Beckett” are an interesting account of the development of her latest etching which would be on display in the Graphic Studio Dublin. There and then I decided that if it was possible I would attempt to see the etching while in Ireland.

There was also a link on her website to current events in Dublin, through which I discovered and subsequently attended a Tibetan singing bowl meditation. 

The day after I arrived, I set off in Ireland’s heatwave to find the studio in Temple Bar, an area on the south bank of the River Liffey in central Dublin. While there I took a photo of the etching. 

In the late afternoon, I was happy to have lunch at a beautiful little spot recommended to me by a mindfulness twitter friend @twenty1breaths. That evening, resting after a day’s walking and exploring (ever the flaneur!) I did some more research.

The title of the etching, “Waiting for Beckett”,  was obviously a play on “Waiting for Godot” by Dublin born Samuel Beckett.  To my delight I discovered that the Samuel Beckett bridge (this pdf has some lovely photos, and there are a few more photos of the bridge in my gallery “Ireland”) featured in the etching, was designed by one of my favorite architects, Santiago Calatrava, whom I had blogged about shortly after discovering him in 2009.  The bridge looks like a Irish harp on its side and is unique in Ireland in that it is able to rotate through an angle of 90 degrees. Amazingly, it was constructed offsite and made its way to Dublin by barge from Rotterdam.  

One of the paradoxes in Calatrava’s designs is that they contain both rootedness and movement and this is clearly demonstrated in the Samuel Beckett bridge.

Rootedness and movement are typical too of cyberbridges. With the body present and rooted in front of a device, one’s mind nevertheless is able to move rapidly in here2here space. 

Thinking about all of this, I decided that only one thing could complete my adventure.  The next morning, shortly after sunrise, I made my way along the Liffey river to find the spot which had inspired the etching. An hour later I reached the bridge and stood in awe of its beauty. Slender yet strong, it graced the landscape. I wandered over it until I felt I had found the spot which Camilla had used as her perspective. 

After taking a number of pics, I simply sat there for a while in the early morning. 

Later I worked on an edit and this was the result.

Before leaving Dublin to tour the rest of Ireland I was able to return to the gallery to purchase Camilla’s etching.  Somehow its story had become part of mine.

Storytelling and Scheherezade

Up until a little while ago, Scheherezade and Linda had never met. Separated by distance and time, their paths had failed to cross. 

A child of the east, Scheherezade came into being, once upon a time, before the 9th century. Born in Africa in the 20th century, with ancestors from Europe, Linda was very much a child of the west.

Once, when she was a young girl, Linda had attended a symphony concert. Fascinated by Rimsky-Korsakov's "Scheherazade" she went out to buy the record. Each time the needle met the vinyl disc, the haunting sounds of the music would issue forth, and Linda would feel herself caught up in another world.

She did not know that Scheherazade was the name of the daughter of a vizier, or even that Rimsky-Korsakov was Russian. No one told her, and because she did not have easy access to one, she did not research any of this in an encyclopedia.

Many years later, air travel made it easier to cover great distances, and Linda found herself living in the Middle East.

One morning, while waiting for her coffee in a Starbucks, Linda picked up the magazine section of a daily newspaper, only to be confronted with a picture of Scheherazade on the front cover. Their paths had crossed anew. 

After reading the article, Linda immediately went home to google Scheherazade and learn more about her. Memories of music once loved, came flooding back, and YouTube allowed Linda to relive them.

She found the newspaper article online and continued her research.  

At one stage, to take a break,  Linda stepped into her Twitter stream. To her amazement, she was met with these tweets: 

@qsedki “King in 1001 Nights represents the reactive rash part of us. Shehrazade represents the thinking considerate part.” - Chris Payne #TEDxAlain

@qsedki “I think Shehrazade didn’t have stories beforehand. I think she conjured them up right at that moment.” - Chris Payne #TEDxAlain

@qsedki “We can either be reactive or we can think and consider how we want to live our lives and take the necessary risks” - Chris Payne #TEDxAlain

Very much conscious of synchronicity, iPad in hand, she mailed the tweets to herself for later use.

Technology had brought two women together and allowed them to meet. By means of it Scheherazade was able to tell Linda her story. She could recount how she had offered to spend the night with a king who, angered by his wife's infidelity, had taken to marrying a virgin ever day and then having her beheaded! 

She told Linda how on that first night she began telling a story but then did not complete it. His curiosity sparked, and wanting to hear the end of the tale, the king spared her life for a day. The next night she not only finished telling the tale but began another, stopping yet again before its completion. Her stories fell into many genre and often she incorporated tales within tales.

This continued for a thousand and one nights, by which time the king had fallen in love with her and she had borne him three children. Made a wiser and kinder man by her presence and her tales, the king spared her life and made her his queen.

Linda listened in awe. And then it struck her!

Each one of us is a Scheherazade. Each one of us has a story to tell and today's technology makes it possible for each story to be heard. The space we inhabit here, allows each one of us to be not only the audience but also the storyteller. This is global theatre and global storytelling on a grand scale.

Scheherezade told stories within stories. Digital storytelling is able to contain links within links. Storytelling becomes visual, oral and written simultaneously, and interactive technology allows teller and listener to merge.

It is an age where individuals and thereby whole cultures can meet on a daily basis. Stereotypes can be broken down and  perspectives broadened, as we discover how the "other" is not so "other" after all.

Linda turned to Scheherazade and asked her if, for the purpose of her blog, she might allow her to change her name to Schere2herezade. 

She only smiled. The story had begun again :)