Painting with Qomdeni

Qomdeni, myself and Phoenix Facilitator Thembaletu.  Photo by Jon.

On my last day at Eshowe Women's Prison.  It is a "plastic bag society" - everything brought into the prison must be in a plastic bag.

While painting for a second time with Qomdeni, she said "Before you came, I didn't know I could draw.  But now I have made drawings that I love."  She said she would have labeled everything in the drawing but no one would help her (she never learned to write).  I realized that drawing pictures is the closest thing she has to writing.

She does not have any drawing materials.  Today was my last day in the prison.  When I went in to give her the photo of her hand painting, I also gave her all my colored pencils, a pencil sharpener, a pencil case that was given to me years ago and some paper in a folder.  I hope she knows that she has given me much more.

Painting with Nomusa

Nomusa wants to open a tavern in the future.

The Phoenix Gallery!

Me with the wall about SIT and my collaborative hand paintings

How Should We Give Help?

Richard Aitkin's tongue-in-cheek revsion of a famous passage from the book of Matthew (orginal follows):

"'I was hungry, so you drew up budgets and formulated programmes which taught me how to sustain my dietary needs; I was thirsty, so you enabled me to launch and advocate for water projects so that I should not go thirsty again; I was a stranger, and people thought of me as the alien "other" and so you put me into language and enculturation classes so I could learn how to fit in; I needed clothes, so you budgeted for a sewing project and stressed that we must think about the sustainability of our team of sewing ladies; I was sick, so you came to the conclusion that I was not looking after myself well and my body's immune system was compromised, so you developed a healthcare programme and made me learn it; I was in prison, and so you contructed a very full programme whereby I could learn self esteem and also improve my job interview skills, so I would get a job and not be at risk of re-offending. " 

The (original passage) invites us to participate, with open hearts unconstrained by norms and standards: "For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat; I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink; I was a stranger and you invited me in; I needed clothes and you clothed me; I was sick, and you looked after me; I was in prison and you came to visit me.'" -Matthew 25:35-36

What's Happening Outside of the Phoenix office

Sometimes the most exciting part of a plan is when it changes.  My role here has been more than I had hoped for.  In addition to my three initial goals (being a Phoenix Facilitator, painting on hands and making an online gallery) I am also:

-Helping plan and implement a three day facilitator training workshop

-All the cooking for said workshop

-re-doing the Phoenix gallery entirely (specifically I am working on curating, wall text, painting a mural on the outer door, and framing)

-creating a book about Phoenix that they can use as a marketing tool

Hearing Qomdeni's Story

Qomdeni, Nonceba and Jennifer in eShowe women's prison

Qomdeni's pattern has trees.  She hopes to work with the soil in the future.

As a child she sold plants with her grandmother, who has since passed.  Her hands are strong, and as I painted them, she told Nonceba her story.

Qomdeni is 32 years old.  She did not go to school.  She is one of eight children.  Her parents are gone.  One of her sisters left their homestead and married their cousin.

Qomdeni's cousin/brother-in-law came to their homestead demanding to make all the other sisters his wives, too.  She said no.  He raped Qomdeni.  She fled to Durban where she lived homeless on the beach.  A social worker returned her to her home, and she was raped by her cousin/brother-in-law again.

Qomdeni reported the rape to the police.  They came, took him away, and returned him the same afternoon.  Her cousin/brother-in-law taunted her for thinking she could stop him.  She fled again to Durban. 

A sister died so she returned to the homestead for the funeral.  Her attacker raped her again.

Qomdeni and her brother killed that man.

Qomdeni's sister reported the crime but the case was dropped.  Two years later the case was somehow re-opened.  This year she begins her 15 year sentence.

That is how she got in prison.

What's Happenin in the Phoenix Office

1. Organizing and choosing artwork to document

2. Documenting artwork

Jon Rinke, photographer

 
3. Documenting artwork - the tools

Mosquito net, light bulb, aluminum foil, zip ties.

4. Home

Alcohol Abuse and Art

Paper covers the cans to allow sunlight and shadows to be more clearly seen.  Just like in life, advertising can make it difficult to see the truth about alcohol.

The lesson began with a value study to learn how to change watercolor from dark to light, just like we can change our lives from dark to light.

Phoenix facilitators Lamo and Jon, along with inmates, look at the subject of their paintings.

A surprising majority of inmates in KwaZulu Natal prisons were under the influence of alcohol when they committed crime.  In this section 10 of Phoenix's "Starting With Us" program, a facilitator leads inmates through a memoir exerpt that describes a woman's plunge into alcoholism.  They discuss the role alcohol has had in their lives, and talk about the kind of support needed by people who abuse alcohol.  Resources for support outside of prison are also provided.

Magdalena (a German art therapist) and I developed an art lesson to help inmates visualize these concepts.  I began by teaching them how to paint a value scale with watercolor.  Then we talked about the shape of the can we would draw, how the sunlight hits it, and how the shadow that is cast is the darkest part.  Magda dicussed how alcohol has a light side (fun, parties, friends) and a dark side (can cloud your judgment and cause you to become violent).  The positive side is that, just like we can lighten watercolor paint by cleaning the brush and removing the dark paint from it, we can clean up our lives by not abusing alcohol.

Working with Women in Eshowe Prison

Last week I introduced my collaborative painting project to these women.  Almost all volunteered to help.  In this photo they are drawing pictures of what they want their future to look like.  I'm using these pictures to make patterns that I've been painting on their hands.  I have heard some amazing life stories so far, and can't wait to share more soon. 

Phoenix Planning

Jon Rinke, Ida Gartrell, Richard Aitkin, Magda Northaft, and Nonceba Lushaba

Ida Gartrell, Stephanie McKee, Magda Northaft and Nonceba Lushaba

Ida and Stephanie

Khwezi Radio

It was such a pleasure to travel to Kranskop on Saturday to visit the Kwasizabantu Mission.  The name pretty much means "place of help for the bantu people."  This entirely self sustained mission town was started by Germans in 1954.  Their radio station, Khwezi Radio, alternates between German, English, Afrikaans and other kinds of programs.  Phoenix staff and I had a blast talking about Phoenix's prison work with Nosipwe, one of Khwezi's their extremely talented radio hosts!

http://www.khwezi.org.za

Speaking with Nosiphwe about working with Phoenix as an SIT student and now as an Alice Rowan Swanson Fellow

Johnny's Roti's - A Rainbow Nation Microcosm

    The only place I've visited in Durban where people from every race, class, age and gender come together equally is Johnny's Roti's.  It is a literal hole in the wall on the side of a busy road with a kitchen, a window and a facade covered in loud, painted signs advertising "A Deal for Busy Housewives - 10 plain rotis for 10 rand!!!," "12 rand sugar bean rotis," and other meals for 10 to 50 rand.  One sign reads, "Feed the Hungry! 400 bunny chow's for 300 rand!"  (One American dollar equals about 8 rand, and a bunny chow is a quarter loaf of bread hollowed and filled with a meat curry, a unique invention of the Indian people in South Africa). 
    At the window a young Zulu girl takes orders and in the kitchen a colored man rolls mutton curry into a huge roti (which is similar to a chewy tortilla).  Waiting outside the window for their food you can find homeless black women, rich white business men, young indian surfers, mothers, children and tired construction workers.  Everyone goes there because you can buy a lot of really delicious food for a small price.  I take a bite of a warm chicken roti as I head back down the alleys towards my place, stepping over trash and enjoying the walk.