The puppeteers of the Htwe Oo Myanmar puppet show in Yangon, Myanmar.
The International Folk Art Market (IFAM) is the largest of its kind in the world, bringing Folk Art artists and their cooperatives from all corners of the world to Sante Fe, New Mexico. In the past ten years, 780 artists from 80 countries have participated in the Market generating more than $19 million in sales, 90 percent of which has gone home with the artists. For one weekend in July, you meet the world.
I met Khin Maung Htwe and Tin Tin Oo, a husband and wife team from Myanmar who specializes in traditional Myanmar puppetry. Khin Maung Htwe and his cooperative, Htwe Oo Myanmar are based in Yangon where they also have a puppet theatre in downtown Yangon. They travel the world to share their art and participate in puppetry competitions.
Htwe Oo Myanmar’s puppetry follows 600 years of tradition and represents the less than 30 remaining puppeteers in Yangon. The puppeteers make the marionettes featured in their shows and for sales in their on-site shop and markets such as IFAM.
Traditionally the puppets were used for education and entertainment and played a role in media, reporting sensitive events to the king through stage performance.
Htwe Khin Maung and Tin Tin Oo brought their 10-year-old son, Thet Paing Htwe Oo to Santa Fe as they have passed down the traditional art form to him. The mother and son duo performed on the stage at the Market
throughout the weekend.
I can’t wait to travel to Myanmar for the first time with my father in October 2015 and plan to isit Htwe Oo Myanmar when I am there.
Khin Maung Htwe and his wife Tin Tin Oo
Until next time,
Andrea… and my wandering iPhone
UPDATE:
On October 31st, 2015 — While in Yangon, Myanmar visiting family and travelling the country, my family and I went to the Htwe Oo Myanmar puppet show. The theatre is located on Sule Pagoda Road near the Sule Shangri-La hotel. It was easy to make reservations which can be done by calling or emailing.
We were treated to a 45-minute show as well as a history of puppetry. After the show, we got to try our hand at puppetry. They make handling the marionettes look so easy, but I can assure you it’s not.
My family in Yangon had never seen a Myanmar puppet show before and enjoyed it as much as I did. We had many laughs as we each took turns trying the puppets. It is an excellent show and a fun night out in Yangon. If you’re ever in Yangon, be sure to visit the family-run Htwe Oo Myanmar.
My cousin and father trying their hand at puppetry at the Htwe Oo Myanmar puppet show in Yangon, Myanmar.
I first travelled to Cape Town in December 2012. I visited 3 inspiring development projects in Khayelitsha while on tour with James Fernie and his responsible tourism company, Uthando South Africa. It was our first stop at eKhaya eKasi Art & Education Centre that made the most impact. I wrote about that experience in Finding Ubuntu in Cape Town, South Africa.
The view from the eKhaya eKasi rooftop – December 10, 2012eKhaya eKasi centre – Khayelitsha, South Africa
The Women’s Skills Development (WSD) program teaches residents, mostly unemployed mothers, skills in beadwork and printing t-shirts for local businesses as well as crafts. eKhaya eKasi’s model of education and empowerment through the arts inspired me, and as a professional photographer, woman and mother, it spoke to me. I learned of the many issues women in the townships are faced with such as domestic violence, unemployment, HIV/AIDS and alcoholism and formulated ideas of how I could help with photography.
After a conversation with the centre’s director when I returned home to Canada, I began to research to find out more about the centre. I noticed that the photography section of their online shop was empty so I brainstormed ideas of how best to serve them using my photography experience of 10 years.
It wasn’t until May 2013 when a contest, G Project by G Adventures and Planeterra, made an open call for ideas that could make a difference, asking “what will you do today for tomorrow?” that I gave it more serious thought and put together a plan. The heART of a Woman Project (thoaw) was born. I entered the contest, and though I didn’t win, I committed myself to see the project to fruition. I knew that even if I travelled there with my own 2 iPhones and my own money, it would make a difference. I believe in the idea that anyone could make a difference and Lao Tzu’s philosophy “a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”
I had always lugged around my DSLR on my travels, but I felt it was cumbersome. When the iPhone was released in Canada in July 2008, I jumped right in. I was 5 years into my photography business, slowly burning out and losing passion for photography.
With the iPhone, the camera that is always with me, I began to photograph daily life. Instead of photographing only poses and occasions like birthdays and holidays, I captured moments and ‘ordinary days’. I employed everything I knew about photography but experimented even more. The iPhone restored my passion for photography again, and I was more creative than ever.
My son in Aug. 2008, taken with an iPhone 3G… he’s dancing, a framed print in my home.
In March 2011, during a milestone birthday trip to London and Paris, my DSLR remained in my hotel room the entire time. I loved the results with my iPhone 4 and the Hipstamatic app, even from a moving bus and through windows. After I returned home, I put together a photo book of that trip that I made in iPhoto. When I received it, I excitedly raced through the photos in the book and KNEW that mobile photography had arrived.
I have since upgraded to an iPhone 4s and 5s and created another photo book after my travels to Senegal and South Africa in December 2012. With the advances in technology and apps, I knew the potential of the iPhone and how so much could be achieved with just one device. From creating the image to post-processing to sharing on social media to printing through apps that specialize in mobile camera photo products. The learning curve is easier, the phone is mobile and unobtrusive and the costs affordable with used donated devices. People are always upgrading their iPhones. I know this because 2 of mine are now in Khayelitsha!
With the help of fiscal donors through crowdfunding on Indiegogo, some sponsors, travel and mobile photography bloggers spreading the word and 11 donated used iPhones, I returned to eKhaya eKasi. I taught an 11-day workshop in photography and social media (Instagram, Twitter and Facebook) to 9 unemployed women, mostly mothers, from Khayelitsha, South Africa, a township just 40 minutes from the Cape Town city centre from November 15-29, 2013. The women also learned basic computer skills and used Google for the first time.
For 2 days the women photographed life in Khayelitsha through their eyes. I went through all the images (3000+) and post-processed 1 from each woman. I had 200 postcards printed for each woman and presented the postcards to them at the end of the 11 days together so they could begin sales immediately. The purpose of the project was multi-dimensional. One of the primary goals was to pass on my skills in photography to the women so they could generate some income through postcard sales at eKhaya eKasi as they already had a foundation for tourism at the centre. The other goal and perhaps the most important one was so the women would have access to the Internet and social media so they may share what they do and bring attention to the centre and their work. Through sharing the events at the centre they could encourage more visitors and thus potential sales not only of postcards but all their products and services. The last goal was to offer a way for the women to tell their stories in their own photos and words. Really, the possibilities are endless if they continue to develop their skills.
Postcards and prints are available in our shop online. Profits from each purchase support the women’s path to sustainable income as they are paid their price. The remainder is reinvested into Project South Africa. The goal is for the women and the program to be completely self-sustainable not only in photography, post-processing and producing products but also financially as well as they run their own small businesses.
Esther & Veliswa learning ‘pinching’Yolanda Nkatula and Aviwe Dalingozi photograph the mural on a shipping container, home to Mama Blessing Hair Salon in Khayelitsha.
Veliswa Wowo, a married mother of 4 and a founding member of The Heart of a Woman Project in South Africa photographs live chickens in Khayelitsha.The series 1.0 postcards – The heART of a Woman Project #thoawSA
Esther & Veliswa learning ‘pinching.’The ladies photographing in Khayelitsha, South AfricaYolanda photographing in Khayelitsha, South AfricaRetsepile photographing in Khayelitsha, South Africa
On November 30th, we received the postcards from the printer at our braai (barbecue) and sales began immediately. One woman shared that she was able to give her son some money so he could take the train to look for a job, another shared she gave some to her grandmother, and another said she was able to buy shoes. The postcards are continuing to sell at eKhaya eKasi where they welcome tourists.
Signed postcards to donors and buyersThe series 1.0 postcards – The heART of a Woman Project #thoawSAAviwe and her postcards
There were so many memorable moments during my time with the women – touring Cape Town, the beautiful sunset we experienced on Signal Hill as we looked out to the ocean and Robben Island, the ride up to Table Mountain, the drive around the Cape Peninsula, seeing the movie Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom together, walking around the township and the braai.
The heART of a Woman Project Mobile Photographers on Signal Hill #thoawSA
Some of the moments that will stay with me for a long time were the “in between times”, the meals together and just driving around in the combi (van) as we travelled from place to place.
I really tried to be mindful of my experience and take it all in. I felt privileged to be with the ladies of #thoawSA and to be immersed in such a way.
Aviwe, Esther & Yolanda travelling in the combi (van).
One of the moments I remember was when we were going back to the centre after 2 days of documenting township life, the energy felt high even though we had spent much of the time photographing in light rain. As the kwaito music played, some of the women danced in their seats while others chatted away in isiXhosa. Their smiles could light a room, and the laughter that filled the van was infectious. At times I had no idea what they were laughing about, but I laughed along with them. I remember looking out the window and as the flurry of activity flew by me – the people, the homes, the colourful shops, the playful children and the cows that roamed, I recall feeling grateful.
I felt grateful to be experiencing it cozily in between the 9 women that joined me in the back of the van and on this journey. I felt proud of what we had accomplished in such a short time together. I could sense that this was something special. In some ways, it felt like just an ordinary day, though I know that all of my days with them were extraordinary ones and part of a time I will not soon forget.
The heART of a Woman Project Mobile Photographers on Table Mountain #thoawSA
I’ve been a professional photographer since 2003 and am the founder of The heART of a Woman Project (thoaw). THOAW is committed to providing education, on-going guidance and support to Project heART South Africa (thoawSA) to help the women achieve sustainability to support themselves, their children and their community at eKhaya eKasi which serves over 400 residents.
Today is International Holocaust Remembrance Day as designated by the UN.
I am honouring my grandfather, all those that perished – 6 million+ and those that survived and lived to tell the truth.
My maternal grandfather Majer Fisczel Gorewicz from Kielce, Poland survived 4 camps including Auschwitz, his mother and 5 sisters did not. I never met him as he died 3 years before I was born. For years, my mom and I researched in our attempts to trace my grandfather’s family. There is no trace of them. It is believed they perished in Auschwitz.
In August 2011, I travelled to the United States Holocaust Museum in Washington, DC (my 2nd visit) and donated whatever we had of my grandfather on behalf of my mom. We did so to preserve our documents, and so others would never forget. At that visit, I put in a request to have research on my grandfather done. Amazingly, they were able to trace my grandfather’s steps and tell us which camps he was imprisoned at, his Auschwitz and Flossenberg prisoner numbers and the camp he was liberated. He was liberated from Dachau on April 29, 1945.
I went to Germany for the first time in March 2012, so I could visit the Dachau concentration camp near Munich. After many years of purposely not visiting Germany, I felt it was time. My maternal grandmother was born in Germany, my mom was born in Germany, and my uncle still lives there, but I couldn’t help but feel hurt and some anger. My grandparents met at a displaced person’s camp near Munich, Germany as my grandmother was a nurse during that time. It’s been said that my grandma nursed him back to health and saved his life.
On arrival in Munich, I went directly to the train station as I had planned to spend the night in Salzburg, Austria. I knew that it would take some time for me to prepare for a visit to Dachau and to spend time in Germany. Over 1 1/2 weeks, I travelled by train from Munich to Salzburg to Vienna to Prague and then by bus back to Munich. I saved Dachau for the end of the trip.
As I looked out the train window during those first few train rides, I imagined all the people that walked beside the train tracks in death marches or that rode the rails to their fate and couldn’t help but feel emotional. I learned that my grandfather was one of those that walked in a death march. He walked from Flossenberg to Dachau in 1945.
I was overwhelmed with emotions as I walked to the gates of the Dachau camp from the remnants of the old train tracks. The gates read “Arbeit Macht Frei” which means “work makes you free”.
I walked the grounds, looked at photos and took photos. As I stood inside the Jewish Memorial with my thoughts, I looked up towards the stream of light coming in. There was an opening, and it looked like an angel with the way the light spilt in. Suddenly, the feeling of anger began to lift.
At the ‘Never Again’ memorial, I placed a rock that I found on the ground on the top. It joined the many other rocks that were there. It is customary to place rocks on headstones and memorials of Jewish people and places of remembrance. It symbolizes the strength and endurance of a rock; it says that we were there and it is a way to preserve the love and memory of those that have died.
These are some of my photos of Dachau. It has taken me almost 2 years to write this post.
B-3058, your name was Majer Fisczel Gorewicz. I remember.
Update: After years of searching we finally learned the fate of a member of our family. His name was Zygmusz Gorewicz, and he was 3 years old. He was my mother’s brother, born during the war and before her. He was 1 of the last 45 children of Kielce. His story was found on the Yad Vashem website.
Papers that showed my grandfather was imprisoned at Dachau, Flossenberg, Blizyn and Auschwitz during the Holocaust and his photo.
Old tracks were discovered where trains arrived. Dachau near Munich, Germany.
Arbeit Macht Frei means work makes you free. The entrance to Dachau.
Camp Road at Dachau Concentration Camp Memorial Site,
Guard watch tower – Dachau Concentration Camp Memorial Site, Mar. 2012.
Barbed wire fences – Dachau Concentration Camp Memorial Site, Mar. 2012.
Jewish memorial – Dachau Concentration Camp Memorial Site, Mar. 2012.
Remember in Hebrew – Dachau Concentration Camp Memorial Site, Mar. 2012.
Inside the Jewish Memorial. It is an opening at the top, but this is what I saw when I looked up and took the shot. Dachau Concentration Camp Memorial Site, Mar. 2012.
The memorial bell at Dachau Concentration Camp Memorial Site, Mar. 2012. It rings every day at 3pm.
Memorial – Dachau Concentration Camp Memorial Site, Mar. 2012.
Never again. Notice the rocks on the top. I too placed a rock. Dachau Concentration Camp Memorial Site, Mar. 2012.
My grandfather’s certificate of Incarceration. “Reason given for incarceration – Jude (Jew)”.
I observe a man in a saffron robe. He is tall, his head bald and he is smiling. Ten others have suddenly joined him on the street; he stands above them as a shepherd tending to his flock. I hear the sound of a drum and shaking of the tambourine and then, “Hare Krishna Hare Hare Hare ”. The song trails off as they chant walking down the street.
Continuing my walk on Kensington Avenue where the streets are narrow and sidewalks wide, I come to a wall with graffiti and the words “One Heart”. As I take a photo of it, a faint scent of soap, fresh after a shower, wafts towards me. The sign above the entrance of the store reads Tribal Eye. I see a table full of incense in front of their window and then wander in. There’s a Djembe in the corner. Walking over to it, I feel tempted to play it.
“Do you play?” he asks.
“I’m learning” I answer enthusiastically. “I took 2 lessons in Senegal and bought a Djembe in South Africa.”
Suddenly, alternating soft and hard slaps on the drum sound out, the owner is now playing the African drum and I am the only audience. Enjoying this moment, I wonder if he took lessons too.
“Where did you learn?”
“I’m African, we’re born with it.”
He grins as he walks over to his laptop; I follow behind to continue the conversation. A rhythmic drumbeat begins to play over the speakers; he starts dancing behind the counter. As I am looking at the products on the counter, I feel myself dancing too. I find it hard not to move to this music.
“Did you see the Tree of Life on your trip? How did you like it?”
“Oh, the Baobab trees are beautiful and I even slept in one in Senegal.”
“You like to live life!”
“Yes, I do!”
He looks at me and starts singing: “If you know what life is worth, you will look for yours on earth, and now you see the light: stand up for your rights.
“I love Bob Marley.”
He smiles. It is 25 minutes after I walked in and I remember why I went in. I pick out some incense, look at the “One Heart” jewellery and buy some African Shea butter. I thank him, but what I am most thankful for is his time and openness.
“Thank you my sister.”
I smile and as I walk out, I’m reminded that we are all one; one heart. I am even more inspired to continue to live with an open heart by being open to conversation with people I meet as I wander locally and around the world.
The Krishnas just passed by singing. Just another day in Kensington Market that us Torontonians simply know as Kensington.
One Heart at the Tribal Eye in Kensington Market, TorontoDancing Days – Kensington Market, TorontoKensington, Toronto
Author’s Note:
You never know where inspiration is going to come from and you don’t have to travel to find it. It is right here, every day if you live with an open heart. Thanks to Anthony for the reminder and another lesson in the Ubuntu philosophy. Ubuntu, is the Xhosa word I learned while in South Africa that simply means “I am what I am because of who we all are” and speaks of interconnectedness.
I tried to stop the tears that welled in my eyes from flowing, but they escaped, and I could no longer control them. I didn’t want to look like a fool on that small passenger plane from Johannesburg. The African wilderness was somewhere I had always wanted to experience, but it seemed like somewhere that only existed in my dreams, in the pages of National Geographic and on television.
As we flew over the northeast area of South Africa, memories of Sunday evenings on the sofa with my dad and Gran came to mind. As a child, I watched the Wild Kingdom and the television shows that featured the wildlife of Africa.
I saw mountains and valleys below and imagined the people that lived there and the animals that roamed amongst it. As we approached the Hoedspruit airport and flew closer to the ground, I looked for elephants and giraffes amongst the trees I saw below, but couldn’t see anything but dark green patches that dotted the ground. As we descended into the vast expanse that is the greater Kruger National Park, a feeling washed over me like none other, and I started to cry.
I worried that my cry would quickly become audible, so I worked hard at keeping it silent. Had I been alone, it would have been one of those cries that feel like you had been cleansed inside and had no more tears to cry, devoid of further emotion. I never had, in all my travels, felt like that before.
I went to South Africa with the intention of learning more about it and its people, enjoying beautiful scenery, stalking wild animals and by stalking I mean going on a game drive to admire animals in their natural habitats and having new experiences. I came back having fulfilled all of those things, but what I didn’t expect was feeling like I was somehow home.
It’s been almost 6 months since I was there and I still feel like I am trying to process it all. I write, ponder, leave the blog, look at my photos and come back to this unfinished post many times over.
I wanted to so perfectly describe the feeling I had and to perhaps make sense of it but have resigned to the fact that I don’t think I really can. Nonetheless, I wanted to share my experience. I will chalk it up to one of those profound experiences in my life that can’t be fully explained.
Flying over the Blyde River Canyon in South Africa, approaching Hoedspruit in the Limpopo province.The little plane that took me to where my dreams came true
Update: In the last year (about 2 years since I first visited South Africa) learned that my paternal great-great-grandfather is buried in a cemetery near Johannesburg. I had no idea that any of my family had been to South Africa. I’ve since learned his history and that I have other relatives buried there as well and have relatives that are still in South Africa.
Le Centre Culturel c’est là the taxi driver announced.
C’est le Centre Culturel Derkle? I ask.
Non, c’est le Centre Culturel Americain
Derkle? He sounded confused.
I think back to my conversation with Amina, the nanny at my friend’s house. She also thought I was going to the American cultural centre. Maybe it’s the one most visitors go to in Dakar. I remembered that I saw ‘liberté six’ on the map when I showed her the location.
Now in the taxi and somewhat lost, I pull the map out of my travel bag and show it to him while pointing to The Derkle Cultural Centre.
C’est là, en liberté six.
Ah, oui, je le sais maintenant.
Ndiaye smiles and turns the taxi around as he knows where to go now. Relief spreads over me. For a moment, I imagined myself lost in Dakar and not being able to explain where I wanted to go. Senegal is the first place I’ve ever been where English speakers were difficult to find, a new experience for me.
Dakar Street Life on route to the Derkle Cultural Centre
We pull up to a rose-colored building in the middle of a residential neighbourhood in Dakar. There isn’t a tourist in sight.
C’est ici says, Ndiaye. I look around and hesitantly step out of the familiarity of the taxi and Ndiaye.
Merci Ndiaye, je vais vous répondre ici à six heures
D’accord, à six heures
Thanking him as I get out of the taxi, we make plans to meet at 6 o’clock that evening. I know that it’s the correct place as I spotted a sign before leaving the car.
There is a gated entry way; I walk through. A circle of senior women are on my right. They gathered in the shade of a tree. I can hear them talking, but I don’t recognize the language. I wonder if it’s Wolof. I want to stop and interact with them, but I have a class to attend, and I’m not sure where I need to go.
Derkle Cultural Centre, Dakar, Senegal
Derkle Cultural Centre, Dakar, Senegal.
I continue and am now in the courtyard of the building. There are many rooms; they appear to be classrooms. I wonder where everyone is. I try to look for a sign
that may point to where I’m supposed to go for my Djembe lessons, but there are none. I wander around and try and listen for the sound of a drum, but again, nothing.
I go back to the front of the building and search for someone that may know where I need to go. It looks like I’m at the front office, but I’m not certain. I step inside.
Bonjour? I call out. Suddenly a man appears from a back room. Bonjour.
Savez-vous Ibou? J’ai des cours de djembe avec lui.
Non, je suis désolé mais je ne le connais pas.
I’ve just asked if he knows Ibou, the man I’m supposed to meet. He tells me that he’s sorry but doesn’t know him. I thank him and say goodbye. The only person who seems to know anything about the place doesn’t know the person I’m supposed to meet.
I’m not even sure where I am in Dakar. I don’t know how far away my friend’s house is, and I wonder if there is a local bus nearby but then I don’t know how to get back to my friend’s house. I don’t have a transit map, and I don’t have a data connection as I couldn’t get my Senegal SIM card to work. I don’t even have Ndiaye, the taxi driver’s number, and I’m not sure I can speak French well enough to get me to where I need to go. Suddenly, I feel ill-prepared, and a bit of panic begins to set in.
I take a deep breath.
Okay Andrea, relax. Think. You are more prepared than this; you can handle this. In my excitement, I forgot that I was supposed to call the drumming instructor when I arrived. Good thing I added an Africa phone and text plan to my iPhone the night before since my local SIM didn’t work. I look on my phone, and there’s the information I need. I dial the number. A voice answers.
Salaam alaikum
Alaikum Salaam. Hello, is that Ibou?
Yes, this is Ibou
Great! It’s Andrea; I’m here at the front.
Okay, I’ll find you there
I exhale.
A group of drummers at a local cultural centre in Dakar, Senegal. The man in the blue shirt on the right is Ibou and was my djembe instructor.
