Monday, March 30, 2009

Mbita.


Last summer I was lucky enough to travel to Kenya. While I was there I helped out at a school for orphans and taught bible and art classes. I also was involved in ministries for widows of the town that I was in, which is called Mbita.

The experience was life changing (cliche as that statement is). I was swept off my feet by the unique culture as I spent time with the beautiful women and children of Kenya. One of the most exciting things was the way that I was able to be companionable with people from a culture so contrasting to my own.

Handily for me, English is one of the national languages of Kenya. Therefore all of the children speak English (because their school classes are conducted in English), and many of the women speak English as well. However, it was interesting to see how one word can have different connotations, meanings, or uses in different cultures. My favorite example of this phenomenon is the use of the phrase "How are you?". We Americans ask "How are you?" and expect at least a polite answer of "fine", but Kenyans tend to use "How are you?" as a greeting that does not require a response. In Mbita, "How are you?" is interchangable with "Hi!" or "Hello". When we happened to drive past a group of children we would be met with a cheerful chorus of "How are you! How are you!!!".

The key to relating to the idiosyncrasies of the language of another culture is to listen, identify the differences, and then act accordingly. Kenyans say: "Hello-how-are-you!" so I say "Hello-how-are-you!" right back to them. Kenyans love to shake your hand for an awkwardly long amount of time, so I shake back for an equally awkwardly long amount of time.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Blair.

One of my dearest friends is known for being the best at asking questions. She always asks the most engaging questions and instigates interesting conversation. Her inquiries are never attacking but merely a probing of people and a discovering of what makes them come alive. I say this with no exaggeration: she is the easiest person to talk to in my acquaintance.

She has taught me several things about conversation. Even though it may seem awkward to keep on asking questions at first, if you persist you will eventually hit on something to draw a person out of their shell. Why? She has observed that all people like talking about themselves. You just have to ask the right question - and sometimes it takes a couple of tries to find that right question that will get them going. The trick to finding it is listening.

Questioning is an art.
Listening is an art.

The more time I have spent with her the more I have developed in my own abilities as a questioner and a listener. Conversing with others is a skill which must be carefully developed and honed in order to master the art. The cliche rings true: practice makes perfect. 

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Soy Chai.

As I sit on the porch of Bongo Java reading about a sense of place, I suddenly realize the truth to this idea in regards to my experience at the coffee shop.

Let me preface myself: I am addicted to Bongo. When I haven't been here for a couple of days, I miss the people, the tastes, the smells, etc. I have spent an ungodly amount of time and money here, but I don't grudge a single second or a single penny.

That being said, as I look around I realize that I have literally sat at every single table in this coffee shop multiple times. As I look at each table memories come flooding back of the different
experiences I've had at each table. I can clearly see the faces of friends as we conversed, laughed, did homework, and I drank copious amounts of soy chai, which I always get in a mug (I don't drink coffee, therefore it is more than somewhat ironic that I so love a coffee shop). I can remember countless afternoons spent on the porch enjoying beautiful weather and good company, and a plethora of evenings spent inside immersed in homework. Due to the extravagant amounts of time I have spent here, I feel completely at home in this place. With my investment in Bongo, I have made it my own: I have a sense of place and ownership here. I am an insider. I am a regular.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Burnt Sienna.


As a painter, I have acquired a heightened sensitivity to color. Every time I paint I strive to capture precise colors while mixing my paints. As I have progressed into forming my own individual technique and style, I have developed a growing addiction to certain colors. 

Specifically, my favorite paint color to mix into my palette is burnt sienna. I have nursed a serious addiction to burnt sienna. I love the effect of mixing it into every color. Whether it is a rich black or a sky blue, there are few colors in my paintings that do not include at least a touch of burnt sienna. I think that this obsession has formed due to my attraction to earth tones. Whenever I mix a color I subconsciously desire an earthy, vintage effect from my mixing. Burnt sienna typically produces this look. I have discovered my attraction to this certain effect and consequently employ my use of burnt sienna over and over again.

I suppose this devotion to a color merely once again proves me to be a creature of habit. I enjoy routine and when I find something I like I tend to be staunchly loyal. I'm often that girl that keeps on ordering the same dish over and over again at a restaurant instead of branching out and trying the other delicious options.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

ba-BUM.

The rhythm of the human heartbeat has a singularly soothing effect. It is the first sound that babies encounter while in the womb, and from that point on the familiar iambs of ba-BUM, ba-BUM, ba-BUM produces a uniquely peaceful sensation. Because of the fundamental familiarity of this rhythm, there no other sound that is more satisfying than an iamb. It is for this reason that we are so attracted to and satisfied by iambic poetry. It just comes naturally for us to talk and hear in ba-BUM's.

Poetry often captures this satisfying rhythm. Whether or not you understand the meaning of the poem, the sound of a Shakespearian sonnet is arguably one of the most aesthetically pleasing sounds in the world. The pristine iambic pentameter, the three quatrains following a perfect ABAB CDCD EFEF rhyme scheme, and the couplet with the GG rhyme scheme create a satisfying and harmonious effect. Consider and read aloud Shakespeare's Sonnet 73:

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

Even if you do not understand what the poet is trying to say, one cannot help but feel contented by the rhythm and rhyme of the sonnet.

On the subject of aesthetically pleasing sound in poetry, I recently read T.S. Eliot's "Preludes" and was particularly struck by his use of onomatopoeia to create images. For example, in the first verse he utilizes "s"-plus-a-consonant sounds to produce the noise of the swirling wind on a blustery night:

The winter evening settles down
With smell of steaks in passageways.
Six o'clock.
The burnt-out ends of smoky days.
And now a gusty shower wraps
The grimy scraps
Of withered leaves about your feet
And newspapers from vacant lots;
The showers beat
On broken blinds and chimney-pots,
And at the corner of the street
A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps.
And then the lighting of the lamps.

Poetry employs sound to delight its audience. Whether it is through the rhythm of a heartbeat or onomatopoeia of the wind, these poems achieve a uniquely satisfying effect to the human ear.