Thing about this field is that I’m ALWAYS learning things!
Just when I think I’ve kind of figured things out, I will go ahead and learn something new.
Like just a few days ago, I did two afternoon presentations.
I thought afternoon presentations would be easier. I’m starting to get anxiety when I have to get up early these days!
Just tackling Toronto traffic, and the worry of getting to the venue on time means I have trouble sleeping the night before.
The presentations themselves are a piece of cake!
Anyway, I did two afternoon presentations and I realized why so many schools book me for the mornings.
Kids are fresher in the morning!
One of the presentations was for kindergarteners, and it was the end of the day.
In Ontario we have full day kindergarten and as a result these little tiny kids are at school from nine in the morning. Poor little things, some are so young!
I decided long ago to never take it personally if a kid dozes off during a presentation.
I told myself, maybe they need the sleep more than they need to hear my stories.
So when I saw this little boy starting to sway, and his eyes starting to close, I thought, oh well, can’t catch everyone.
But when more started keeling over, I got really disappointed.
I think there were a total of about twelve little kindergarteners, who gradually drooped to the gymnasium floor, and fell fast asleep, in the middle of Silly Chicken and Big Red Lollipop.
And I thought, Yup, no wonder they book me for the mornings. I will stop complaining about that from now on.
At the end of the presentation, as the teachers were waking up the sleepy heads, one of the teachers came up to me and said, “You were awesome!”
I was so surprised. And I said, “But I put them to sleep!”
And she said, “That’s because you’re a wonderful storyteller. You have a very soothing voice.”
And I looked at her astonished. And I said, “Okay. I’ll take that.” Sure. I put them to sleep because I’m so good.
But honestly I think I’d rather see them in the mornings from now on.
Never heard of this concept until I spoke to someone in the biz and she mentioned it and then I looked it up.
It’s a feminist term that basically articulates the nagging feeling of condescension that many women of color feel from our white feminist colleagues.
It’s the feeling that the only way they would consider us ‘successful’ is if we adopt the exact same attitudes, platitudes and attributions as they do.
That basically the ideals of white women are the only ideals that all women should strive for.
I’m not sure if I’m a ‘feminist’ exactly.
And yet I remember Katie Couric’s speech at that gala event I attended a few weeks back where she said that if you believe in women’s rights, you bet your life you should call yourself a feminist.
But thing is, I also believe in men’s rights. Basically I believe in justice for everyone.
And yes, that includes women. So I guess I am a ‘feminist’.
When I came back from Pakistan this time I really got a very different idea of the dynamics there.
It’s so funny how much things have changed. When I was doing the teachers’ workshop, there were many men in the workshop and they had no problems with me, a woman, leading the workshop. They eagerly participated, and so did the women, and yet the women hung back. More out of modesty though than anything else.
How does modesty fit into feminism? It’s not bold. It’s not brash. It doesn’t seem to be something white feminists even value and yet, I think it is valuable.
Intersectionality is also the idea that women of color experience an intersection of challenges, not all of which have to do with their gender. For example we experience racism, class-ism, age-ism and others as well.
So the solutions we strive for may not be the same as those striven for by our western counterparts. And what we consider success might also look different and basically western feminists should stop trying to make us feel bad about that.
I did a presentation recently on Wanting Mor, and the topic of other very famous novels written by white feminists came up. I was asked how I viewed them and I said flat out that I found them to be insulting. Despite the fact that sometimes the authors had good intentions, ultimately the story line comprised of a Muslim girl, abused and oppressed, dressing up as a boy and running away. And my beef is, really? Is that the only solution a white feminist could come up with? Can’t the girl resolve her problems from within the culture? And what does that really tell girls from that culture???
And yes, this is all about intersectionality.
It’s so cool when someone puts a name on a nagging feeling you’ve felt all your life.
And maybe it means that women of color, and particularly, authors of color are taking back their voice. We’re no longer being dictated to in terms of what we should accept as our measure of success.
And it means there is real hope that we can bring about more understanding between the western and eastern hemispheres, between white and non-white cultures.
We can only hope.
Sometimes when you’re conducting storytelling workshops, you might encounter children who are really really reluctant to get up in front of others and speak. And yet, public speaking is such an important life skill to have!
I really dislike it when they insist on reading their stories or even having the paper version near by.
I always tell myself in these kinds of situations to just chill, RELAX! It’s no skin off my nose if they tell the stories with their papers!
And yet it’s a crutch!
I know they’ll do a terrible job telling if they’re glancing at their papers every two seconds, or even just reading off them. They won’t have learned to stand on their own two feet and recall a story from memory. They won’t have realized that in storytelling there’s no such thing as perfection! Because you don’t memorize the story! So they won’t have learned the art of spontaneity! And the art of dramatization!
Even as I write all these things it occurs to me how very valuable an experience the storytelling workshops really are!
I’ve even been doing these exercises with my grandchildren.
Every once in a while, instead of me telling them stories, I have them get up and tell a story they’ve recalled. Even the three and four year olds do their best to remember a story. Sure they stand and fidget and they smile shyly as they tell them, but they do it! And when they’re done we show our appreciation.
The trick is, when they stumble, and yes, they will stumble, instead of grabbing for a paper, all I do is coax the story out of them with a few gentle questions.
Sometimes I’ve dealt with kids who are so nervous of telling, they actually begin to cry. And yet they have had some wonderful stories to tell!!!
With them, I say, “Come and stand right beside me.” And somehow they take courage from my proximity and as I coax the stories out of them, the tears slowly vanish, and they focus on me and the story, not the audience.
They get through it!
Imagine the sense of accomplishment they must feel! Imagine the courage it gives them to tackle other new endeavors!
Sometimes they can be so quiet, speaking just above a whisper. In this situation I do a relay. I let the kid speak the story to me, and then I tell it to the group.
I often give them a day of dress rehearsal, and then the next day it’s on for good.
And because it’s important to have something at stake, a bit of pressure! I offer up a prize for the best storyteller. (Usually it’s a DVD of me storytelling.)
In the past I’ve had teachers ask me to excuse some of the students because they were suffering anxiety.
What the heck is the world coming to?
Why are kids so anxious?
I don’t care if they are horrible at it, the simple act of getting up in front of your peers and speaking is good experience for the real world!
This is what I tell the kids. I say that you need to push yourself sometimes to do something that is uncomfortable and scary. If you don’t, how will you ever grow?
Alhamdu lillah, in the end, I often get every single student to tell a story. Some of course are better than others.
And it often amazes me how sometimes it’s the kids who struggle with English, or who are the most shy, that win my little competition!
It’s so good for them to shine in such a way!
It’s such a confidence booster!
One time I found out that one of the kids I was leaning towards winning always won at things. And it was interesting because it occurred to me that maybe I should not let this kid win this time, maybe I should give it to someone who ‘needs’ it, and then part of me thought, geez, why not???
Should I really penalize a kid for being good at things and confident???
So I let the kid, and I was glad.
I come at kids with a completely blank slate. And the winners are always about proficiency.
Recently, after a workshop, the kids groaned, “Awwwwww!” when they realized it was my last day with them.
And they asked, “When will we ever see you again???”
Oh they were so cute.
It’s funny how many adults and educators assume that children only want to laugh.
They only want to have fun.
I did too.
When I first began school presentations I assumed that the funny stories would be the ones that would reach the children the best.
That perhaps I’d have to coax them into being interested in more altruistic story lines like The Roses in My Carpets.
I guess it goes back to that teacher I overhead in Cambridge, MA, when I was at the Children’s Literature New England conference back in the summer of 1996.
I had read out an early draft of The Roses in My Carpets and I overheard her saying to another lady, “…yeah but what kind of kids would like it?”
We underestimate the altruistic streak that exists in so many kids. I mean what else are superhero stories about? Except helping other people?
I’ve been doing workshops after school as part of the Toronto Public Library’s Sophie’s Studio. They’re free workshops designed to encourage the creativity and writing skills of the kids who enroll.
About eighteen kids have been coming every Wednesday afternoon from 4-5:30. And it’s tough!
It’s got to be engaging because as an after school program, these kids don’t have to be there!
Well there was one kid who definitely didn’t want to be there!
He spent most of the time, not participating, reading his comic book instead.
Part of the program I do with the kids includes my The Roses in My Carpets presentation because it really illustrates the creative process.
I thought I’d have to trim it for the purpose because the juicy part that applied was really about how I wrote the story, the inspiration behind it, not all the social studies bits.
One of the kids in the group whose story was getting off to a bit of slow start sat for most of the presentation with her hand over her mouth and a look of shock on her face.
And this whole group–very gregarious at times–were totally silent, and the little disengaged kid who was being forced to come, he sat right in front, and for the first time, he had his eyes wide open and was totally engrossed.
At the beginning of the presentation I asked them, “Who wants to do some good with the stories they write?”
ALL of them put up their hands!
All of them!
And that surprised me, and then I thought no, it shouldn’t. Because here I’d been guilty of the same thing.
Underestimating these kids!
Well I only have one more session with them.
I always learn so much from the kids in the workshop! And this time is no exception.
Thing is, kids really do respond to good art.
We might think they won’t get it, but on some deep level they do.
Reminds me of when my son was only two years old and he found Pride & Prejudice very interesting. Pride and Prejudice! With Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy!!!
We need to give the kids access to not only silly humorous stories, but to deeper more profound stories!
Think of it this way, we don’t always like the silly stuff! Sometimes we, as adults yearn for something that will really challenge us, spiritually and intellectually!
Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate Captain Underpants and a good fart joke. Just that I also long for something more wholesome.
Our tastes, as well as the tastes of children, run the gamut.
Do not underestimate them!!!
Sometimes I look back over the places I’ve been and the conferences and festivals I’ve had the privilege of attending and I get a bit nostalgic.
Singapore, Mexico, Iran, Pakistan, India, Denmark, Sharjah, Italy! The list goes on! Wow! I’ve really been a LOT of places!
I remember the trips so fondly! Although at the time they were extremely stressful!
As I age, these kinds of trips are taking a bigger toll on my body. And yet, I really had such wonderful times!
And I have come to firmly believe that when you remember someone, there is some sort of psychic connection in the atmosphere, because just as you think of someone, they’re also thinking of you!
It’s happened way too many times to be some sort of coincidence.
I’ll be thinking of someone, and days later I’ll get a call or an email or something where they say they were thinking of me too.
This is out of the blue! When I have absolutely no reason to be thinking of for example, the gentleman I met in Mexico when I went down there for the Universal Forum of Cultures.
It’s so nice when you get re-invited, or even if they just want to bring you back but they don’t have the resources.
There are so many NICE people in the world!!!
And I’ve met so many of them!
But then I’m also getting to the point where nowadays, whenever I’m a little bit too honest or blunt for my own good, and I put my foot in my mouth a bit, or I may have closed a door that was swinging open for me, I can just shrug and think, “C’est la vie.”
And move on, with no regrets.
Part of me thinks, hey, if they can get their nose out of joint just from a little bit of bluntness, then maybe it’s just as well. I’m not talking about saying anything rude. I’m just talking about expressing an opinion that they might disagree with–after I was asked for it!
And part of me thinks that there comes a point when your body of work has to stand for something and you don’t have to pussy foot around people.
I know that kids can relate to the stories I write. They just have to be exposed to them. And I know I’m coming at stories from a completely different mindset so I’m offering something unique. And it’s something of value.
If people aren’t in to that, if they can let an off colour remark offend them so easily, then it’s okay. There are others out there. Not everyone has to like me.
One actress, Jennifer Lawrence, was talking about how women are expected to be so nice, to take a cut in pay compared to male colleagues and not make waves about being paid the same amount. And she was sick of it.
I can certainly understand that.
Maybe it’s only when you get older that you get the courage of being not always nice.
I try never to be mean but hey, don’t ask me a question unless you’re prepared for an answer you might not like. I might just give you a completely honest answer without putting it in proper diplomatic double-speak, and what I’ve learned is that there are MANY people who can’t handle complete honesty.
I’m not trying to be mean. And if the situation were reversed I would definitely not take offense. I would consider the opinion being offered very seriously, and take a personal inventory, and decide whether the opinion was valid or not. It’s just the way I’ve learned to be.
And yet it’s so important to make connections! To be nice to everyone! You never know when such connections can lead to opportunities.
Oh dear, I know I just totally contradicted myself, but then that too is part of dealing with the world out there.
Never mind. Let’s end with that original thought.
La la la la!
Nostalgia and good times and good friends!
My goodness, it seems pretty hard to recapture the magic of picture books.
They are so deceptively simple!
And yet, I wonder if I haven’t sort of moved on.
I’m looking at most of the picture books I find in libraries and thinking ‘meh’. And I watch my grandchildren’s reaction closely as I read picture books to them, seeing what they respond to, what they laugh at, what makes them want to read a story again.
There is such a discrepancy! The older grandkids (9 and seven) really like the longer picture books! Westlandia is one of their favorites!
It’s a fascinating story about a boy who creates his own little world/ecosystem based on an imaginary fruit that he plants in his backyard as a sort of summer project.
It really is a story that shows the basis of any society–agriculture.
And they like the whimsical picture books that tell real stories.
The younger ones like humor! We’ve read Robert Munsch’s Smelly Socks probably a dozen times! It’s not one of my favorites. I still prefer Stephanie’s Ponytail. I think it’s brilliant! One of his three masterpieces.
I just finished a story I’m quite pleased with. Sent it off thinking ‘ooh maybe!’. But then the doubts creep in.
They always creep in.
And then sometimes like this morning, I was looking through snips I’d written, just dribs and drabs of stories I began in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep. And they’re often filled with whimsy but they don’t go anywhere. And I ended up abandoning them.
I really feel like I’m going through a different stage of my career. A floundering period where very little is falling just right and yet the underlying concepts are there.
And yes, I think I’m over thinking things.
It’s been a while since I’ve had a book accepted and I’m starting to regret the fact that I gave away Not Guilty to an educational publisher when I could have expanded it and made it into a full length prose novel.
Right now I’m neck deep in presentations. I’m doing the Sophie’s Studio workshops at the Toronto Public Library. They’re a lot of fun! They have to be because the kids are coming after school. We’ll focus on story creation, emphasis on the fun imaginative stuff.
A new year and a new group of kids. We’ll see how it goes.
And I’m just wrapping up on the mentorship program through TDSBCreates. It’s been fascinating working with a group of four intermediate girls. Their writing is a lot better than I thought it would be! And I’m doing a TDSBCreates residency with two classes of grade three students!
Oh they’re so different from the grade four and five students I’ve worked with for the last couple of years. So enthusiastic, I often have to take time to calm them down!
But they’re cute! I was doing my story creating exercise with them yesterday and oh the exuberance!!! LOL
I just wish I had more time to write!!!!
I know I could have done some writing right now, instead of blogging, but it wasn’t enough time to actually write, get deep into the revisions of the one project (which I have to finish up) and get back into the new project that’s beckoning me!
Oh well, what are these but first world problems?
Sometimes they make me feel guilty because people are really suffering all over the world.
I heard that we’re in for yet another recession, and it will hit globally.
One of my daughters decided to use the picture below of me, as her profile pic. She thought it was absolutely hilarious.
I have to admit that it is.
I have to confess that I can’t stand watching videos of myself because I do make really goofy faces while I’m telling a story.
You have to.
It’s just me being me.
Here’s another one!
Omigosh, I can’t even remember which story it’s from. Probably the Hungarian folktale: The Little Rooster. It looks like I’m doing the part about ‘Come my special stomach’ or something.
Thing is, not everyone is comfortable looking silly during a performance.
I remember watching Robert Munsch for the first time and thinking, my goodness, he looks ridiculous. But of course that’s only during the storytelling.
When you storytell, it HAS to involve the risk of making a fool of yourself. You have to be vulnerable.
And the BIGGEST mistake people make is not taking that risk.
If you don’t go for it, if you don’t put your all out there, then the audience can tell you’re holding back, you’re not COMFORTABLE, and ironically, that is what really makes you look FOOLISH.
Acting silly on stage as part of a story that calls for it, does not make you look foolish.
When I’m storytelling, I don’t worry at all about my personal dignity. I use whatever means necessary (and yes, that’s a conscious reference to Malcolm X!) to tell the story. No holds barred!
Mind you I’m not always goofy! That’s the secret!
I believe that mixing pathos with humor accentuates both! You can have a few moments in a story when things get quiet and thoughtful, and even sad at times, and that makes the funny parts all the more hilarious. They’re moments of comedy relief!
One of my best presentations is The Roses in My Carpets.
The thing is even though the story is sad and serious, the presentation has some very funny moments in it. Moments when I let loose and be ridiculous! And the kids laugh and it’s a relief from the heaviness of the other stuff I’m talking about.
Below I’m looking kind of pensive! This was at the Charlotte Zolotow award ceremony.
And here I am talking to a group of kids:
But thing is that shot is kind of posed so I look more dignified.
I guess what I’m trying so hard to say is that when you’re dealing with children audiences, respect that they love humor (just like adults do) and yet they also like to think. Believe it or not, kids love to discover the world and they really do like to think about deeper things.
Respect your audience.
Give them ALL of yourself! Don’t hold anything back.
If that means, that like me, you tend to be goofy at times, then go for it.
But if that’s NOT your comfort zone, if that’s not the kind of person you are, then speak to them in other ways. Just be truthful and honest.
And above all respect them!
I have dealt with some of the most difficult kids that way.
They’ve been pieces of cake! Really!
It’s always amazing to me how the real impact of what you do as a teacher has very little to do with the day to day remuneration or any sort of ‘recognition’ you receive.
Humanity really comes down to being a big blob of interpersonal connections.
I was having a conversation with a family member recently and we were discussing some negative things that had happened in the past.
Incidents that involved people behaving badly towards others and she asked me if I was angry at any of those people for what they’d done to me.
I’m 54 years old now. The people in question are dead. What’s the point in being angry?
And in fact, if it hadn’t been for what they did, my family wouldn’t be where they are today. Sometimes ‘goodness’ can come out of a reaction to ‘badness’.
Ironically, ‘bad’ people can make us more ‘good’.
Out of great evil, good can come. And I think it has to do with what I call the ‘pool table’ effect.
Imagine we’re all different colored balls on a pool table. Some external force acts upon the white ball so it hits us and sends us in a certain direction, perhaps towards one of the corner pockets.
Most people live their lives like this, guided by nothing but the whim of external forces and then the reaction of their emotions and instincts. They’re little more than animals being prodded forward.
But thing is, unlike pool balls, we humans have a choice. We can decide which direction we want to go in. And even though the white ball has pushed us one way, we can decide to go another.
That’s the difference.
A lot of people underestimate human choice, freedom of will. It’s why sometimes children who have been brutally abused grow up to be some of the nicest human beings because they have decided to reject such behaviour for themselves.
They make a–yes let’s use the word–a MORAL choice NOT to do what was done to them!
I know for myself I made such a choice regarding bullying. I know what that feels like, intimately, so I have chosen never to bully other people. To restrain myself, especially when the power is on my side!
So with regards to the people who did wrong to me, why should I be angry? I’ve looked at it from their point of view, or at least I’ve tried to. And sometimes they were just ignorant, or just wicked human beings. And yet…I wouldn’t be where I am without them.
On a lighter note, I often get reminders of the kind of impact I’ve had on people. Last year when I was doing the residency at Downsview Public Library I met a number or very nice young people, and one of them, a girl who was painfully shy, sent me this email. (She gave me permission to share it.)
Hi I’m Stacey from your public speaking and creative writing classes.
I would like to thank you and tell you that for the first time in my life I made it to the next round of the speech arts competition. Me and my sister Diana, who also went to your classes and is competing in speech arts, will be competing on Monday morning! Thank you for helping us and teaching us! I can’t believe that I’m competing on Monday and I’m really really nervous. Thanks to your help I managed to get up in front of my class and say the part of my speech that I had memorized. I’m not even done memorizing it yet but I know I can do it.
Thank you again
I am SO proud of Stacey! And I am so glad I was able to help her!
During that residency I had to really develop my public speaking and writing workshops! Lesson plans! The whole works! It developed me in ways I hadn’t expected because when you have to teach something, you end up figuring out how you’ve made it work for yourself.
It’s changed the way I conduct such workshops, and perhaps it’s even made me more versatile.
I’m really grateful to the Toronto Arts Council for funding me in that way!
And I’m grateful when people I’ve touched in some way, reach out and tell me about it. It’s a good deed to offer encouragement. You never know when the good things you say to someone will give them the lift they needed at just the right moment, to get over a particular hump.
And none of that would have happened, but for the things I endured as a kid.
So…it’s all good.
So all that I’ve written so far is the preamble to the big event, the one that I was actually invited to keynote: Children’s Literature Festival in Karachi.
The Children’s Literature Festival is an initiative begun by two very dedicated ladies: Baela Raza Jamil and Ameena Saiyid (the head of Oxford University Press) trying to uplift the educational standards of the children in Pakistan. Maham Ali is its current CEO.
Currently there are about twenty-four million Pakistani children outside the school system. And even those within the school system seldom complete a full cycle of education.
For example there are thousands of elementary schools, but the number of middle schools and high schools drops significantly.
A vast amount of children never get past grade five!
One of the challenges is that there are apparently about ninety dialects spoken in Pakistan, so finding an official language of education is difficult. The official language is both Urdu and English, but for most children even Urdu is a second language.
It makes it difficult because the children just don’t have the resources to get proficient at it.
The teachers earn a good salary, but it seems they too are not trained in the most modern techniques to educate their students.
The Children’s Literature Festival is an event aimed at creating excitement around learning.
The Karachi event was held at Dawood Public School which is a school for girls and was probably the most beautiful school I saw while in Pakistan!
Its financed by an amazing entrepreneurial lady, Sabrina Dawood, who offered the campus as a venue for the festival.
Thousands of children, parents, teachers and media attended the event!
They had authors, singers and publishers and musicians and scientists!
I began with the keynote.
I had ten minutes to basically launch the festival, and I thought carefully of what was the best message to start with.
I should mention that about three days before the festival I got seriously ill.
It started with an ominous rash that quickly turned into blisters on my hands and the soles of my feet and in my mouth, and resisted all over the counter medications. In fact today, three weeks later, I’m still dealing with the ramifications and trying to get my health back to normal.
Now that I think of it, I wonder that I was able to function as well as I did.
But then you can never discount the effects of adrenaline! Plus, I always feel such a tremendous responsibility when I travel.
People have invested a LOT of money to bring me there! I have to make sure it was worth it!
It’s not about me or my ego. It’s not about anything but doing the absolute best job possible for my hosts!
So I tried not to think about how walking on the blisters on the soles of my feet was like walking on pins and needles. My feet got so swollen in fact that the pretty shoes pinched mercilessly and I had to wear my black running shoes even though they were quite ugly.
Anyway, getting back to the keynote. I thought the best thing to do was to tell them why I, as a Pakistani-Canadian, felt that I had the ability to write books that would appeal not only to Pakistani children, but to ALL children, so I told them a story about something that happened when I was ten years old, in grade five, with a handsome teacher whose name was Mr. Harrison.
It’s a story I tell often.
Short, to the point, it basically illustrates a moment when both Mr. Harrison and I witnessed a scenario unfold, and the thought that occurred to me as a result of it, was verbatim expressed by the handsome Mr. Harrison who I so looked up to!
And in that moment I realized that no matter what we look like on the outside, no matter what color we are or gender or religion we belong to, inside we’re actually not that different. And my goal in writing any story, is to use my imagination to create a scenario where the reader comes to the same conclusions that I have or that I want them to.
I particularly chose this story because having been colonized, Pakistan is still at the mercy of a HUGE inferiority complex towards anything ‘white’ and ‘handsome’. They would get it! And they did!
Oh how the crowd roared when I finished up my keynote address and the lovely Baela Raza Jamil herself told me how excellent my keynote had been.
I had delivered the keynote in a combination of English and Urdu, something I heard someone refer to as ‘kitcheree’. When I heard the term ‘kitcheree’ I had to laugh. I’m not sure if they still call it that, but growing up kitcheree was basically a sort of pot luck rice dish, where you just throw in anything you have leftover to make a meal of it.
And the interesting thing is that nowadays people don’t speak pure Urdu. They speak a mixture of Urdu with English words thrown in, ‘kitcheree’. So with my upside down Urdu, mixed in with English words, I was actually pretty understandable.
But I think one of the most effective things was the fact that here I was, speaking in a North American accent, conveying stories about Pakistani/Muslim/South Asian brown people, stories that were actually constructed with North American tastes in mind, and they could recognize it. Basically they could see in my stories a sort of ‘mainstreaming’ of Pakistani/Muslim/South Asian culture. And I think they found that incredibly cool.
After that I had three other sessions to do, and I tried to focus on different books, and different aspects of the creative process.
My sessions were packed! They were so full that kids and adults were sitting on the ground, filling in the spaces and standing at the back to watch.
And while I was presenting, did I think at all about my physical ailments?
No! Not a bit!
The pain returned after.
And when I was done my sessions, I asked to go back to my hotel room where basically I did my best to rest and recuperate.
Knowing now what I was going through, I’m surprised I managed it.
My only regret is that I didn’t extend my ticket to come home on the 29th because the day I was leaving, the 28th, turned out to be the teachers’ workshop day. I could have done so much for them!
But it was not to be.
And when we looked into changing my airline ticket, it would have cost $700 and no way was that worth it!
The folks have conducted a number of Children’s Literature Festivals all over Pakistan.
I hope and I pray that they have the intended consequence, that they raise the educational aspirations of the children in Pakistan!
It’s such a beautiful country, and the people have so much potential! It would be a shame to see it wasted.
It was funny how some people asked me what it was like to go ‘home’. And I’d look at them blankly and tell them that actually ‘home’ is Canada.
As much as I love Pakistan, my heart belongs to the vast wilderness that is Canada.
I love it in my bones.
And when I found out from the Canadian High Commission, that Canada has a policy towards countries like Pakistan and Haiti and a few others I can’t remember, that these countries who are still in deep deep foreign debt to us, that Canada forgives that debt if and only if, the countries spend the money they would have used to pay us back, on programs that will help educate and uplift children and women and other social infrastructure.
James Clark at the Canadian High Commission was telling me about this with a look of ‘why not’ on his face. And then he added, most practically, “It’s not like Canada needs their money.”
And honestly I could have hugged him!
And I had tears in my eyes, because that’s how much I love Canada!
Between the Canada Arts Council’s travel grant and the Canadian High Commission sponsoring my tour, Canada paid for me, a woman born in Pakistan, to do my best to teach everything I’ve learned to children and teachers in the country I was born!
And I’ll just end with this.
The folks at Children’s Literature Festival sent me an interview questionnaire afterwards and one of the questions was very interesting. It went:
“Would you want to visualize Pakistan a country like Canada or would you prefer to see it a country like Saudi Arabia?”
And I answered this:
Pakistan should be Pakistan and Canada should be Canada. I really believe that you should never try to be anything but what you are.
Pakistan has a rich history, and is a beautiful country. It has many many charming aspects to its personality and character. I love Pakistan.
If it were to take the best ideas from Canada and the best ideas from Saudi Arabia, I think it would become even better.
I really do believe that you should grab wisdom wherever you can find it!
February 18th, A private school and the High Commissioner of Canada!
I’ll never forget the presentations on this day!
These kids were a lot older, I’d say close to fourteen and fifteen, and they understood English!!! You could see it on their faces!
I first met this girl, so pretty masha Allah, with such a keen intelligent look on her face as she shook my hand.
The High Commissioner of Canada in Pakistan’s name is Heather Cruden, and she’s a wonderful lady who was a teacher. It was because of her generosity that I was touring Pakistan. The High Commission was paying all expenses.
So while I was setting up the Roses in My Carpets powerpoint, she was talking to the kids all sitting prim and proper waiting for me to begin. And I learned something. The High Commissioner is basically the Canadian Ambassador to Pakistan, but because Pakistan is part of the British Commonwealth as is Canada, we have high commissioners not ambassadors!
As if I wasn’t nervous enough already! Here I was going to be doing my Roses presentation in front of basically the Canadian Ambassador to Pakistan!!! It was a good thing that I had done Roses so many times! Basically I can do it in my sleep!
And I have plenty of confidence in it, I really do think it’s one of my best presentations!
Oh how they laughed in all the right spots! And since the story is set in a refugee camp in Peshawar, it was the perfect choice, alhamdu lillah.
At the end of the presentation the response from the students and teachers was overwhelming, and then I ended up doing an impromptu teachers’ workshop!
It is such a joy to do a workshop to such enthusiastic educators!!!!
Their passion and questions were fantastic! I was probably having as much fun as they! And then I saw Maham Ali, the CEO of the Children’s Literature Festival, my host, come in, and I realized that I had to wrap things up. So I did. We probably could have gone on for another hour!
Later that evening, Maham and I were invited to the Canadian High Commission for a dinner IN MY HONOUR!!!!
Talk about feeling like you’re out of your league!!!
When I told my husband I was leaving for the dinner he told me to remember how to use all the cutlery!!!
Start outwards and go in, I reminded myself, and DON’T PUT YOUR ELBOWS ON THE TABLE! (Although I still slipped in that regard once or twice!)
But I needn’t have worried. Ms. Cruden is about as down to earth as they come, and we had a lovely time!
I met her assistant, James Clark, the one I’d been corresponding with, and also a nice gentleman from Italy who works for Unicef and we discussed a possible collaboration.
I was feeling very gregarious which is a symptom of nervousness! I’m one of those who talks a LOT when they’re nervous! And they kept asking me questions so I kept telling them stories about myself, including the one about how my husband I met! That had them laughing really hard!
And then we started talking literature and Heather and I (she asked me to call her Heather) like a number of books in common. We both love L.M. Montgomery’s The Blue Castle and she also loved No Great Mischief by Alistair McLeod!
But I think they all laughed the loudest when I recommended Sherman Alexi’s Diary of a Part-time Indian to the Italian gentleman. He has a couple of nephews for whom he buys books and one of them is eleven and I told him he would be perfect for this book but then I felt I should warn him, in case it would be an issue, that the book does contain masturbation.
Oh how they all laughed! I guess at the casual way I mentioned it. I’m guessing they found it totally hilarious and incongruous that me in my hijab would talk so openly about such a taboo subject.
And yet in the back of my mind I could hear my husband’s voice telling me not to hog the conversation! So I did my best to shut up at times too.
It was actually really nice when the others were talking! I got to eat then although really, for me the food was an afterthought and although it was nice, it didn’t compare to the brilliance of the dinner guests.
I left feeling luminous, my footfalls barely touching the ground.
February 25 or 26th, I’m not really sure
The days are a blur.
Been so busy I can hardly think straight.
What with modern technology I’ve been instant messaging my daughters but at one point I forgot to check in with hubby and he emailed asking me, “Are you still alive?”
I replied, “No. I feel like a chicken with my head cut off.”
It’s been a little tough because since I’m stationed here in Karachi for more than five days, I’ve been treating it like ‘home’ and not praying Kasr or Qasr, I’m not really sure what the transliteration would be. It’s basically the travel prayer. When Muslims travel we can combine the prayers and shorten them. It’s SO much easier! During the Islamabad portion of the trip I did just that.
But I’m here in Karachi for close to eight days and no way could I justify it.
So that means I have to pray Zuhr within the Zuhr times and Asr within Asr times, etc. And sometimes it’s a bit awkward. Even though this is a Muslim country we’re basically expected to pray on our own dime, and sometimes other people look at you funny when you ask to go pray.
Karachi is a big, sprawling stinking metropolis with a LOT of charm!
Last time I was in Pakistan I was kind of ‘roughing’ it. When I went places it was often on the back of a motorcycle, no helmet, riding side saddle trying to fit both feet on one foothold, holding on to the middle of some man that was not my mehrem (related male) because that’s just the way they travel here. Other times it was in a rickety rickshaw.
This time it’s hire car, all the way, baby!
But oh, the stops and starts, and the near misses and the beggars at every intersection, tapping at the window, showing a deformity if they have one, or a nursing baby, and a few times they were men in drag, with hideous make up, clapping their hands loudly and sticking their hands through the opening because the ac wasn’t working in this vehicle and I was dumb enough to open the window wide.
One of the girls who accompanies me (is 25 years old still considered a girl? I’d call her a woman but she seems too young) told me that they don’t want food they only want money. And as we came out of a mall and the beggars headed for us, she handed one the leftovers of her lunch but he wouldn’t take it, so I guess she had a point, but I still felt bad for them.
I went to a ‘public school’ and did a program for some young kids, about seven or eight. But in the middle of Ruler of the Courtyard, which they LOVED! Oh how they laughed when they realized it was a drawstring and not a snake! I felt some ominous tummy rumbles. I needed a bathroom but they assured me I didn’t want to use the one they had!
It makes me so sad that the facilities here in the public schools are so poor. The head of the CLF told me that there are hundreds or thousands of elementary schools but only maybe ten per cent of middle schools and even fewer high schools. Most kids drop out by grade five.
Arts education is very rudimentary.
The interesting thing is, that when I do my Roses presentation for example, at a more advanced school, it’s like the kids can recognize the story arc in the presentation. The looks on the girls’ faces, I’ve seen it so many times, in so many audiences, all around the world, masha Allah. It’s like a half grin, like as soon as I start talking, they know they’re in for a ride.
I had a huge group there, probably close to two hundred girls, all from the same grade, in various stages of hijab.
Oh how they loved it!
And the principal positive gushed! She came up to me and hugged me and led me to the staff room where there were samosas and other good things with some tea, and then while talking she said how she’d love it if the other girls could see it too, so we arranged an impromptu workshop for the grades eleven and twelve.
I thought workshop: flip chart and maybe sixty girls, but it turned out to be about two hundred, some of the girls even wore niqab.
Since these girls were older, and I’d already done Roses and I didn’t feel like hooking up the projector again I decided to do Wanting Mor. It touches on Dahling if You Luv Me Would You Please Please Smile, and boy alhamdu lillah, it was a hit.
Then my escort came running in and from the look on her face I knew I had to wrap things up but I asked her anyway and she said, yes, we had to go. So I rushed to finish and hurried downstairs. But then we went to the office it turned out we had to wait for the driver to arrive. I felt like I could have finished the presentation properly instead of rushing through it. And as it was prayer time and I wasn’t sure how long it would take to get to the office, I thought I’d better pray while I had the chance.
Later we went to a press conference. It was so cool. In a very old, maybe Victorian building called the Press Club with sofas and press kits laid out. I wondered if anyone would show up, but they did! The press corps was substantial!
And they asked ‘controversial’ questions, kind of poking to get some drama out of the situation even though there was none.
And today I did a teachers’ workshop. I thought the best thing I could do was do a writing exercise with the teachers so they could replicate it in the classroom.
I have to confess that I have a bit of a potty mouth, but only when it comes to the word bullsh*t. I just think it’s such a good word. It is perfect for what it’s describing. I apologized to the teachers gathered there but alhamdu lillah they weren’t offended in the least.
I got them writing, and I showed them how to make a found poem. But although they were enthusiastic, they were very shy to open up and the juiciest tidbit I got from them was how one of the teachers was too scared when he was writing one of his exams.
I was hoping for more vulnerability. I told them that real art was very vulnerable. It went deep and if you tried to hold back then people could always tell.
We talked about different strategies to get the students writing but some of the questions surprised me. They asked me about vocabulary. And we came to the conclusion that in some cases it would be helpful if the students wrote in their first languages and then translated them into English. That reminded me that so many of the kids are learning English as a third language, Urdu is their second, and they’ve got some other first language. I think there’s about 90 something dialects and languages in Pakistan! That’s a huge challenge!
But afterwards oh how the teachers mobbed me. First the men, they came up and asked me a bunch of questions on how they could better apply the exercises we’d just done and they wanted pictures with me and then the women came and they wanted me to autograph the back of my business cards, and write something to them, and they wanted selfies and pictures too.
My bits of mild profanity hadn’t bothered them at all and one gentleman who’d driven eight hours all the way from Baluchistan even said that I had such a down to earth style.
It was great!