Ben Pennington Quick Peace Corps joke: One guy asks another: Why is it that you decided to serve 2x? The guy thinks a second, trying to find a respectable answer, and finally says: "Truth is, I read very slowly".
I especially like this video above because of the bees! And the nonchalance of visiting the White House.
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OK! The date is June Something, and it's late at night. Tonite I read a great NY Times article about Shakira, and before that I finished reading for the first time The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam.
Though I was interested in Persian literature already, I decided to pick up a copy of those poems because the work was mentioned in ANGLE OF REPOSE, the latest Penguin Classics bookclub selection. Now that I've read a significant part of each one, and all of the Rubai, I see now how they are directly related... it wasn't just a passing reference, though it certainly also has a sociological implication for the characters as artists just before the Belle Epoque who are fascinated by Orientalism. Such was the fashion then. Knowing that, I see the two works are related in the sense that they discuss how we are here briefly alive, we leave our mark, unable to change things until others come to pick up where we left off, just like how the seasons change and a flower branch has its rose buds, then they whither and die before more, different ones come back the next year.
An example:
The Ball no question makes of Ayes and Noes, But Here or There as strikes the Player goes; And He that toss'd you down into the Field, He knows about it all—HE knows—HE knows! The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it. And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky, Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die, Lift not your hands to It for help—for It As impotently moves as you or I.The Shakira article, from the New York Times magazine, was a revelation. Though it was seemingly filled with every important thing about her--desire to give back to Colombia, which reaches all the way back to her first big hits @ age 18;the adoration of Presidents Obama and Clinton, the first which remembered her studying Ancient Civ at UCLA under her middle names and the second which visited her new multi-million dollar school this past March; her long-time boyfriend, etc. etc. It also spoke at length about the intricacies and cultural dynamism of her home Barranquilla, the Basque and Arab population there, her Lebanese descent, the different barrios in it and the Magdalena River (which was featured in Marquez's 100 Years of Solitude). These things were great. Quite an impressive and nuanced portrait of this person that means so much to me... "my greatest sadness in life", not being a confidant of hers, of missing out on the good conversation.
At the same time, though--as great as this 5-page article was, providing so much bang in such a small space--the seeming contradiction between her success and her unhappiness was alluded to, but not resolved in a satisfying way. What I mean by this is, it fails to elucidate what may be unsatisfying to her.
Here's the part I mean:
When I told her how nice the school looked, she said, with a grin: “It better. I paid enough for it.” There was no bitterness in it, but there was no joy either. She was such a mix of charm, control and anxiousness. It was hard to know whether she took much pleasure in her achievements. Her childhood friends tended to say she seemed less happy now than she had in years past. I suppose that’s the kind of thing people will say about someone who has traveled a long way from them. Still, it reminded me of the lyrics from a song on her last album: “What is your guess, darling?/Have I lived too much, too fast?/. . . Can you tell me how I used to be?/Have I missed my chance?”
If I could place my finger on this, I would assume that what is happening is that Shaki has reached a plateau. Able to get into the rooms with eight or ten presidents and foreign ministers. A singer that sang twice during Obama's inauguration, and also can mobilize the resources and stars needed to do the big benefit concerts, all under her auspices and urging. But it's still a plateau. She can remain among the strongest and most arden vocal advocates, but no matter how many politicians nod at her, and pose for photo-ops, it doesn't necessarily translate into results affecting the lives of the people that she most wishes to reach. What seems most salient to me from what I know about her is that while she puts her money where her mouth is, it is frustrating when other people don't go to the same lengths. There are millions of young people that would (and do) give as much as they can at her urging, but that's more sound than fury. They are not any more franchised to direct mass change than she, at least at this point in time. Those fans, me included, are still trying to get the degrees that one day might give them the influence to do so. So I feel that ennui and inconsolation emmanate mainly from striving so hard to get that, yet finding it even more difficult the closer you get. The most painful thing about a glass ceiling is that it is transparent from below, until you see the people above you walking on top of your head. Likewise, you don't feel its sharp edges until you crash into it, and at best manage to get an arm or a foot through. At least for now, or until the circumstances change and that barrier is removed. It would be a very painful thing to get that far, only to find that your influence starts to flag, knowing that that is as much as you are ever able to do.
Yet I feel the mental exhaustion must come from manuevering forward at such a blinding pace and with such great momentum to the point that you begin to cross a threshold of sorts, where the ability to enact that change--through coercion and lobbying, political manuevering and networking--transforms itself into the possibility of doing so. Each next step, then, becomes so extremely crucial because one mistake and you don't get back into that zone again where influence becomes a possibility.
The Rubaiyat touches on this very thing, of being close enough that a hair of a difference, an Alif, which in Arabic looks like this: | , decides so much of your legacy. It almost could be on the verge of experience that rare phenomenon of passing from greatness into immortality, where you elevate yourself from a half-remembered story into an indelible imprint that doesn't fade. At the same time, I can imagine that Shakira must be frustrated at discovering how slowly change is done. When you sell an average of two million albums every year of your life (if you are 30, then 60+)... slow is just not very cool. And it's something foreign.
It's fair to say that I wouldn't have done Peace Corps the first time if it hadn't been for Shakira. But I can say that about much else, as well: sponsoring my first child, a Filipina named Jasmine; running an Ironman @19 to support her and the two kids I sponsored after Jasmine (including a boy in the 7 de Abril barrio of Barranquilla, Mark); going to Morocco the first time; studying languages. And now I'm headed to North Africa to live! While the decisions of late I feel are less directly inspired from her, I still feel that much of my trajectory is due to her continued influence as a role model, firstly, and secondly as an empathetic musician with her incessant joie de vivre/ zest for life. I'm almost wary of what she may continue to ask of me. When the new album drops this fall and she begins beating the war drums, what strange places will she take me next? And how much would be at my own election?
So... checking-in. How do I feel about Morocco now? For one thing--to continue my thought--it's an experience of a sort that Shaki will never have. I can relate to how she must feel at times, in the sense that they say a person is never as famous as when you are in Peace Corps. Once you step off the plane, the eyes are glued to you until you step back into the airport and leave. Yet at the same time, I'm in this position where I can develop very intimate relationships, do very basic and needy work on behalf of my adopted community. Sweat while also fading into obscurity as nothing more than a youth developer with a big heart. While I will not build any schools in Morocco, I will be able to go inside and teach and function from day-to-day among a group of eager kids that will become my students and friends. Those are very simple and fulfilling pleasures that have been forgone out of necessity by this singer's rising star. I can imagine that she would might envy me that.
While writing these words, I'm reminded of a quote from the Craiglist founder, (paraphrasing) that I read at the same time as the Shaki article : "Money complicates things. I know a lot of people at Google and Microsoft and they aren't happier than anyone else." I can see how a person like Shaki would be close to the Buffett family, who do not value money so much as they enjoy using it for the public good. When you've accomplished the traditional rock star lifestyle at the highest level, what remains to provide fun? You then focus on that goal that has always been at your side. And it's somehow more weighty, more real, visceral. Serious things hang in the balance. On the Facebook post that had the Shaki article I wrote that my favorite line in the piece was:
In the streets of La Playa, I met kids who were going to attend the new school, and they were predictably thrilled; and I met kids who were going to be in the regular schools. They were struggling with the knowledge that they had already missed what was probably the only great chance they would ever have.
I've lived in such neighborhoods, and have seen the kids on both sides of that fence. As I was thinking earlier: as a Peace Corps volunteer, when things get bad you get to go home. For a while since evacuation from Bolivia, I was aware of how the kids in my town were unable to leave, no matter how bad things got (unless they become internally displaced refugees, a category created just because Colombia had gotten so many millions of those kind and the category was needed for the UNHCR to come in and act. Watching a BBC video about the school, Shakira says that : "100% of the students here have been internally displaced. "). They couldnt get on a military airplane like me and fly home to the suburbs, to Walmart and Ben and Jerry's ice cream. What I failed to realize, though, is that even people from the US, our soldiers in Iraq... when things get bad for me, I have to go. When things get bad for them, they have to stay.
I feel that Morocco remains aloof. I've not connected emotionally, I dont have any contacts there. With time it will happen, and I'll find a plethora of motivators to rekindle my passion. That is at a low, I think, though I almost spent 200 dollars on a 6-month Rosetta Stone subscrption. I declined to do so once I read reviews online that said it wasn't as good as the other programs it offers. I'd much rather put those 200 dollars to a Netbook, I think, and keep in touch with Signorina Gallucci!
One last thing before I move on past the Shakira thing: what if someone were to tell her that her job would be to live in anonymity in a village in the Ourika valley near Ourzazate, learning the Berber language and spending hours each day reading, playing volleyball, hiking and writing songs. Talking to young girls and teaching the boys respect. Under the ruberic of 'youth development', she's given free reign to give music lessons, read books aloud to the youngest kids, promoting the children's awareness of their own potential and bringing the outside world to them, showing what opportunities await them. The simplest lessons will be reflected back to her. As much as I care about this strange, strong Colombian singer, it's upsetting that I can't give this person that I love the same experience that I will soon relive as I enter Peace Corps for the second time. I am grateful at least that I will, and while it is I who have signed the papers committing to my second such tour of service, it is she that has guided me to this point. Strange how that works! One-way inspiration.
One last thought, flicking through my mind before I sign off for the night: I saw a video from this same dancer Fadwa (below) where she belly danced, but I think this clip here is much more vibrant and magnetic. The thought, then, is that I will add bellydancing to my list of goals for my time in Peace Corps... a good complement to the capoeira that I wish to do. And maybe, beyond that, I will one day be able to read the Rubaiyat in Persian Farsi. Why not?!
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