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footballghana · 4 years ago

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FEATURE: The brutal beauty of Morocco’s Soccer Ultra

Zakaria Belqadi stands on a railing before a hoard of fans in the cheapest section of Le Grand Stade de Marrakech. He raises his arms, and the stadium begins to throb with the voices of young men.

The song they sing has become well-known across the Arab world, and its lyrics have almost nothing to do with soccer: “In my country they abuse me … Only [Allah] knows, in this country we live in a dark cloud.”

These are fans of Raja Casablanca, one of Africa’s most successful soccer teams. Raja has won 11 Botola (Moroccan domestic league) championships and seven various Confederation of African Football (CAF) titles, among other honors. For many young men in Casablanca’s poorer neighborhoods, Raja has become a way of life, and the team’s “ultras” fan clubs have even become organised, politically active, and occasionally violent. Even so, this stand-offish band of boys provides a sense of home for young men in a country that doesn’t provide for them. And while the Moroccan government banned attendance at soccer matches in May due to the Covid-19 pandemic, the ultras will not fade from the scene.

Kamal Fadili, 25, walks into a crowded café along the tramline in Derb Sultan, his neighborhood in Casablanca. Raja is playing. A small sign at the door reads, “Raja fans only.” As soon as the game starts, Kamal is out of his chair bellowing at the television. Periodically, he throws both hands above his head as if tossing a medicine ball.

Kamal has lived in Derb Sultan all his life. His hands are thick but gently knit, full of sinews that dive in and out of his knuckles. He has a scar on his left wrist where surgeons implanted an iron rod beside a broken radius. His palms are rough to the touch, and he uses them often to greet his many friends and family as he walks around the neighborhood. He has no official job but he doesn’t have an issue paying for a table at the pool hall, and he’s a gracious host, always buying coffee for his friends and guests. When it comes to Derb Sultan, he says it’s hard to achieve your dreams. “There’s so much holding you down here,” he remarks. He once thought about leaving for Europe. In the end he decided not to. “It’s just too dangerous, and you can’t come home.”

Just over 70 years ago, Raja Casablanca’s founding fathers signed the team into existence in a stucco housing block in the heart of Derb Sultan, a five minute walk from Kamal’s house. The team began during the French colonial era as an effort by nationalist labor unions to create a Moroccan soccer team for and by Moroccans. The team’s founders used multiple legal loopholes to circumvent French laws and establish a team without a single Frenchman involved in its management (although the founders did include one Algerian man with the French citizenship needed to get the team off the ground). Since then, fans have organised and used soccer arenas to express themselves and speak out to the government.

Politically-minded fan clubs, later dubbed “ultras” groups, first originated in Brazil in the 1940s, but their spread to Italy in the early 1950s marked their development as a global phenomenon. Since then, ultras clubs have made a big debut in the Middle East and North Africa. Egypt’s ultras clubs were even instrumental in the overthrow of dictator Hosni Mubarak in 2011, and Saddam Hussein frequently banned live attendance at soccer games because of Iraqi soccer fans’ political chants and signs. Moroccan ultras have also been banned from stadiums on several occasions, and they continue to spark controversy today.

Raja ultras’ songs, which they chant in unison at each match, often directly challenge the government. The group’s most famous song, fibladi daalmouni (in my country they oppress me), has even spread beyond Morocco. Algerian protesters picked up the song as a cry for political change in their demonstrations last year. Around the same time, a Palestinian protestor in the Gaza strip posted a video of herself singing the song on YouTube. Boats of Moroccan migrants have belted out the song in the straits of Gibraltar.

Raja’s ultras are known for challenging the police. At most games, the police come ready with a special bucket for putting out the flares that ultras throw at them during the match. The ultras also orchestrate “tifo” choreography. The latter refers to the hundreds of coloured panels used to create giant images in the stands. In the past, some of the tifos have been so controversial that the ultras are now required to show the police their designs before they put them up in the stands. Some of the Ultras’ lyrics go so far as to taunt the police. In the songs, the Ultras mention their own genitals in crude ways and describe themselves as “above the law.”

Vandalism, fistfights, and robberies are not uncommon after Raja games. For years, the Casablanca Derby, a game played between Raja Casablanca and its rival team, Wydad, was known as the “Derby of Death” for its dangerous atmosphere. In 2016, Raja’s ultras became infamous when two sects of ultras fans, both supporting Raja, clashed in a violent episode after a game. The incident left two fans dead, and numerous ultras in police custody. Skwadra (Zakaria Belqadi), the Raja ultras’ capo, who coordinates all the cheers and dances for the group, was sentenced to almost two years in prison on charges of inciting violence. Throughout his sentence, he continued to lead the ultras’ chants from prison, relaying directions over the phone. Nonetheless, ultras have continued to taunt security forces despite threats of arrest.

Ibrahim Oulmaati, an ultra from Derb Sultan, and the Raja ultras’ un-official YouTuber remembers the day that two fans died in the stands in Al Hoceima. “It was absolutely crazy, everyone was pushing everyone,” he says. Ibra, as he’s commonly known, has achieved over 370,000 subscribers on YouTube, and has traveled as far as Egypt to meet ultras and share stories with them. Despite the violence, Ibra finds security with the ultras: “It’s [the Raja ultras] like school, I’ve met all my closest friends there,” he says. The feeling of being in the stands, surrounded by other ultras, “is just happiness.”

The ultras’ school-like atmosphere has achieved academic attention. Far from the smoke and noise of the stadium, in Casablanca’s placid suburbs, a group of about 40 academics and students shuffled into a classroom at the Hassan II University in April last year. They gathered for a lecture by Dr. Abderrahim Bourkia, a sports journalist and professor at Mundiapolis University, who has just published Des Ultras Dans la Ville, Bourkia’s latest book about Morocco’s ultras and their behavior. Dr. Bourkia is a believer in the ultras’ power for good. “It’s a place where they [the ultras] learn the collective life…everyone has a place and a task,” he said. At the moment, it’s difficult to tell the future of Morocco’s ultras. In Egypt, Al-Sisi’s government has temporarily banned ultras activity, and in Morocco, there have been times when the ultras have also been banned from attending games, but Bourkia doesn’t know if that’s the right answer. Bourkia sees the ultras as a way for young men from hard neighborhoods to find their place in society, to become part of an active, motivated community, and develop social skills. “It’s all about finding your place,” he remarked.

It’s this kind of struggle that has made Derb Sultan such a hotbed for soccer super-fandom. Today, Raja is still known as the people’s team in Derb Sultan, a neighborhood that has become somewhat infamous for its talented residents. Famous musicians, soccer players and rappers have all come from Derb Sultan. It’s neighborhoods like these where the ultras have their strongest foothold, neighborhoods where reality is usually quite harsh, even if dreams fly high.

Approaching from the north, visitors pass through the shaded boulevards and tree-lined alleys of Casablanca’s posh Habbous neighborhood, eventually walking past the forty-foot cement walls of Moroccan King Mohammed V’s Royal Palace before reaching Derb Sultan. To enter the neighborhood itself, visitors must cross a wide bridge over a trash-laden gully, split down the middle by a pair of train tracks. Visitors might spy groups of young boys gathered along the tracks, cussing, fighting, and threatening each other. Just past the bridge is a grain market. Men hump swollen polyester bags of cornmeal across the market, sipping tea from skinny glasses as they sit down on stools. Some sit on the ground immediately in front of others, enjoying violent but generous massages after shouldering so much weight. In the back corner of the square squats a small cubic structure made of sheet metal, the words “Mosque: There is no God but God,” spray-painted in Arabic above the gaping entrance.

Once they’ve passed the grain market, visitors are advised to pocket any valuable belongings, but keep cash handy, because Derb Sultan is home to one of Casablanca’s cheapest markets for Chinese manufactured goods, fresh off the ships in Casablanca’s bristling industrial harbor. In the summer, the air in the souqs is hot and thick with conversations that bubble up and ebb away in fits of Moroccan Arabic. It’s hard to separate the smell of frying fish from the pungent scent of garbage.

When game day comes around (and there’s no pandemic in the way), the neighborhood warbles with excitement. Many ultras travel together to see the match. They arrive in rambunctious groups, shoving each other before the entrance to the stadium. The only calm moment before the start of the match is the pat-down by stern-eyed army officers who remind each fan that they aren’t allowed to bring hash, flares, or lighters into the stadium (all rules which are routinely ignored). When the ultras enter the stadium, they immediately become lighter on their feet, practically floating to their place amongst their green-clad peers, bellowing songs they know by heart (usually learned from YouTube videos). Some of them have pro-Raja designs shaved into the sides of their heads, others have pro-Raja tattoos on their arms and hands. All of them are wearing some form of Raja apparel. Their dance moves are synchronised, and they chant to the beating of resounding drums. At their helm, small and green like a lime-flavored jellybean, is one man, the capo, directing thousands of youths through their songs and dances. He sends out signals to the various sections of fans around him: sometimes they whistle, other times they clap.

Between the fans and the police runs a trench, some 12 feet deep and nine feet wide. Behind a line of soldiers are three firefighters, between them a bucket used to put out flares the ultras may throw onto the side of the field. The ultras shout jeers and taunts at the police.

The sunsets on the arena, the swallows come out to eat bugs by the stadium lights, and the match comes to an end, but the Raja ultras stay in the stadium for about an hour. Standing as a unit in the southern curve of the stadium, they chant so loudly that they can be heard from well beyond the parking lot, an eerie but invigorating reminder that the Raja ultras don’t have to go home because home is where the football is.

Source: mg.co.za

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bigbirdgladiator · 5 years ago

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A picket line outside the Palms Casino Resort in Las Vegas proved to be a hot ticket for most Democratic hopefuls aiming to pick up a vote or two ahead of the Nevada caucuses.Elizabeth Warren turned up with donuts to support workers demanding a union contract, while fellow presidential candidates Joe Biden, Pete Buttigieg, Amy Klobuchar and Tom Steyer also found time in their busy schedules to meet workers, pose for pictures and express solidarity.One candidate notable by his absence was Bernie Sanders. The reason may be related to a recent dust-up between the Vermont senator’s campaign and the Culinary Workers Union Local 226, known in Las Vegas as “the Culinary.”Concern about damage to Sanders and the eagerness of his rivals to curry favor with the Culinary underscores the importance of the union in Nevada. Moreover, the political clout the Culinary possesses serves as an example of how unions can prosper at a time when legislators and politicans are working to limit labor rights.So who is the Culinary backing in the Nevada Democratic caucus? Nobody.The flash point in the Culinary’s decision not to endorse was the “Medicare for All” proposals of Sens. Sanders and Warren.In a leaflet distributed to members, the union stated that Sanders’ plan would “end Culinary Health Care” – the generous zero-deductible plan that serves 55,000 Culinary members and 70,000 of their dependents.Some of Sanders’ backers countered that the union had betrayed progressive values by protecting its members while sacrificing higher standards of care for all working-class families. Online, the fight quickly turned ugly. The Vermont senator disavowed supporters who “attack trade union leaders” during a televised debate with other candidates, but not before being accused by Pete Buttigieg of being “at war” with the Culinary.The online fracas harkened back to an old trope about labor unions that is relentlessly exploited by employers: that they don’t care about workers, only themselves and their own power. Which side are unions on?The spotlight on union power in Nevada comes at a time of debate within the labor movement over whether it needs to turn away from “business unionism” in order to survive. Business unionism, which organizes around specific goals for employees rather than a wider class struggle, was the dominant orientation of the labor movement in the U.S. though much of the 20th century.Some labor historians like Nelson Lichtenstein and David Montgomery point to business unions’ tendency to take care of their own rather than organizing new workforces as a primary reason for the decline of the labor movement to its current nadir, representing just 6.2% of the private sector workforce from nearly 35% in the 1950s.They have argued that in order to attract more members, unions need to adopt the tactics and strategies of new social movements and become engaged in political struggles for broad-based changes that affect all workers, not just those in unions.In a recent book, I argue that the Culinary bridges this traditional divide between business and social unionism.The union has been successful despite Nevada being a “right-to-work” state where employees don’t have to pay union dues to join a workforce and receive benefits. Culinary has grown its membership by touting the benefits that a strong union can bring, such as 24-hour health clinics, back-pay awards totaling hundreds of thousands dollars, and protections that have seen the return of terminated workers. At the same time, the Culinary has made political engagement a cornerstone of its value, both to its members and the wider public. In the 2016 election, the union knocked on more than 250,000 doors and was instrumental in getting Democrats elected to the state legislature, the governor’s office, and the U.S. House and Senate in Nevada.The social movement aspect of the union’s work is also seen in other policy areas that it used to compare the candidates: organizing rights and immigration reform. Policy changes on these issues will benefit members of the union, which include large numbers of recent immigrants. But it would also help many low-wage workers outside of the union. A brave face on JanusUnder President Trump, the National Labor Relations Board appears more intent on finding ways to limit labor rights than expand them. And the labor movement faced a major setback in 2018 when the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in Janus v. ASCME that nonunion public sector workers could not be compelled to pay dues for services they receive. After that decision, the Culinary shows how the labor movement can adapt to the hostility of employers, government agencies and courts.It has been facing these headwinds for more than 80 years in Nevada. Today, Culinary members have wages and health care that are the envy of nonunion workers in the hospitality industry. But that standard came only as a result of historic strikes and hard-fought campaigns with multinational corporations like MGM Resorts and Caesars Entertainment.Other locals of the Culinary’s parent union Unite Here have backed Sanders, including in Boston. The Los Angeles local co-endorsed Sanders and Warren. But they are in states with very different politics than Nevada.The Culinary has always had a good sense of where the electorate is in Nevada, sometimes leading the union to endorse Republicans like former two-term Gov. Kenny Guinn. And it has been successful at helping to keep Nevada blue in the last three presidential elections, countering one of the more predictive variables for how a state will vote for president – whether or not it has a right-to-work law. My research has shown a correlation between right-to-work laws in red states and a vote for the Republican candidate for president. In the last election, Nevada and Virginia were and the only states to buck that trend. Far from being a referendum on Medicare for All, the Culinary’s non-endorsement returns the focus where they want it: getting the biggest turnout possible to meet the union’s goals of immigration reform, workers’ rights and better health care. The mixture of business and social unionism that made the Culinary a political force in Nevada can now serve as a model for other unions in the post-Janus era.[Expertise in your inbox. Sign up for The Conversation’s newsletter and get a digest of academic takes on today’s news, every day.]This article is republished from The Conversation, a nonprofit news site dedicated to sharing ideas from academic experts.Read more: * Something Democrats and Republicans have in common: Exaggerated stereotypes about both parties * When presidential campaigns end, what happens to the leftover money?Ruben J. Garcia does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

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weopenviews · 5 years ago

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oselatra · 6 years ago

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2018 Best of Arkansas editors' picks

Exotic sodas, cool relief in July, sweet treats on the cheap and more.

Best multicultural experience on the cheap

My wife loves to cook different curries, so we occasionally find ourselves at Indian Grocers, Mr. Chen's or other Little Rock Asian markets in search of certain ingredients not typically available at the neighborhood Kroger. While there, I invariably am drawn toward the beverage coolers. I don't usually drink sodas, but I lived for a year in Japan and grew fond of its delightful array of canned drinks (with names like "Sparkling Beatnik" and "Pocari Sweat"), and I just can't help myself when confronted with strange beverages from faraway lands featuring a flavor profile fundamentally different from what we usually imbibe. For example, Jeera Masala and Bisleri Spyci (both from India) seem made for people who thought the fundamental problem with New Coke was the lack of an overpowering cumin taste. And if you like your beverages with a little bit of chew, there's Grass Jelly Drink (Taiwan), which comes in an array of flavors from banana to lychee and contains little cubes of grass jelly, a tapioca-like substance. In a similar vein, the Hemani company of Thailand produces several varieties of basil seed drinks that have the consistency of loose Jello with little crunchy seeds held in suspension; my current favorite is lemon mint, but you can also buy rose-flavored. And if you need something to quench your thirst after mowing the lawn under the hot sun, try Yeo's White Gourd Drink (Malaysia), which tastes like a crisp cucumber crossed with caramel.

But let me reassure the less adventurous that there is plenty for you, too, to sample. Quice Ice Cream Soda (Pakistan) is a pleasant variant of the classic cream soda, full-bodied and delightfully sweet, while Sosyo (India) proves an odd little fruit drink just crying out for a shot of rum.

However, even my expansive cosmopolitanism fails when confronted with Bird's Nest Nice Look Drink (Taiwan), the main ingredients of which are water, white fungus, rock sugar and bird's nest. The nest in question is made by Southeast Asian swifts from solidified saliva, so you get bird spit and fungus, all in one little can! The actual experience of drinking it is nowhere near worth the bragging rights, I am sorry to report, for it tastes rather like a mushroom just sneezed into your mouth. But aside from that one, I highly recommend going out and embracing the unknown at $1.50 a can — it's a small price to pay for a glimpse into the other side of the world.

— Guy Lancaster Best escape from Interstate 40 homogeneity

It's probably hard for the youngsters who have never known Northwest Arkansas as anything but the hurly-burly of rampant capitalism and rampant highway ramps to fathom, but the now-sleepy section of U.S. Highway 71 in the region was once the main conduit between that part of Arkansas and the rest of the world.

This section of 71 is the road to get into a literal and metaphoric lower gear — not as low as the steep, serpentine Pig Trail, but getting there. After you hit the antique stores and do the Tony Alamo trail in Alma, head north and make a pickup (or drop off) at the vacuum cleaner hospital. See Winslow — birthplace of writer Douglas C. Jones and forever the home of the Squirrels! Stop for a Mountainburger at Mountainburg's Dairy Dream; it's a loose mix of ground beef with onion and mustard, and a favorite in Crawford County and beyond since the 1950s. Get a milkshake and sit for a spell on the newly renovated patio behind the restaurant and ponder the vistas ... and is that a large, live pig roaming in someone's front yard? Yes, it is a large, live pig.

Other areas just have the skeletal stone remains of attractions like restaurants, tourist courts and artists' galleries slowly becoming kudzu sculpture, but remain just as compelling to sightseers as they were decades ago. (Brentwood in Crawford County — a once-happening burg?) There are breathtaking views of the valleys and peaks of the Boston Mountains throughout. Once you get into the ever-connecting hub of Springdale/Fayetteville/Bentonville, it's a fascinating glimpse of what were once the faces of these older parts of towns. Travelers can take U.S. 71 all the way to Canada. We hope someone we know will do this soon and take us along for the ride.

— Stephen Koch Best venue for emerging artists

Young Arkansas artists whose obvious talent could still use a boost in the public arena have an invaluable leg up: The Thea Foundation's The Art Department, a quarterly showcase of art in all its forms. The foundation, at 401 Main St. in North Little Rock, supports Arkansas schoolchildren with its scholarships for high school students, its Arkansas A+ Schools that weave the arts into the fabric of academic work, and providing music programs and art supplies. With The Art Department, the foundation has brought high-quality work in a wide variety of styles and embodying social and cultural messages. Over the past five years, The Art Department series has shown a spotlight on the gender-focused works of Lyon College art professor Carly Dahl and the abstract, pattern-heavy work of her husband, gallery director Dustyn Bork; Emily Wood's paintings of friends and family; John Harlan Norris' fantasy depictions of people as occupations; Jon Rogers' landscapes; Guy Bell's levitating pyramid. It's shown Michael Church's surreal collages, Sandra Sells' wood assemblages and video art, Kat Wilson's "Habitat" photographs of people in their homes, Michael Shaeffer's images of drag queens, illustrator Chad Maupin's pulp-fiction-inspired printmaking. Coming up: "The Mind Unveiled," an exhibition of works by painter and printmaker Carmen Alexandria Thompson that address mental illness. In her artist's statement, Thompson writes, the work "seeks to unveil, expose and open up a discussion for everyone about the beauty and tragic workings of the human mind." Like all Art Department shows, the Friday, Aug. 3, opening reception will feature heavy hors d'oeuvres, an open beer and wine bar and a chance to win a work of art by the featured artist. Tickets are $10.

— Leslie Newell Peacock Best culinary bargain

Mike's Place at 5501 Asher Ave. is an outpost for Vietnamese food, which is good in its own right. The bun (rice vermicelli) enlivened with bean sprouts, a fried pork egg roll and bits of pig skin, once doused with fish sauce and a dash of squirt bottle hoisin, is interesting, crunchy and filling. But here's the thing: There's a one-line item on the appetizer list that is Little Rock's single best food bargain. It's the banh mih thit, or the Vietnamese sandwich. No slice of pate here. You choose beef, pork or chicken; each comes dipped in a sticky sauce. The meat is dressed with crunchy fresh and pickled vegetables, plenty of fresh cilantro and slices of fresh hot peppers (watch out!). They stuff a torpedo-shaped bun that is served hot and crusty. They call it an appetizer, but it's easily a lunch. And it costs THREE DOLLARS. That's right. THREE DOLLARS.

— Max Brantley Best place to pair an egg roll with a milkshake

For the past few years, Park Avenue (aka "Uptown," aka "Highway 7") in Hot Springs has been attempting an upswing. There's a dope neighborhood community garden, the much-lauded Deluca's Pizzeria and the crisp, clean Cottage Courts tourist court, which looks freshly sprung from a time machine. The Hot Springy Dingy costume shop at 409 Park Ave. keeps it comfortingly weird. But our nation has learned that the path to righteousness isn't a straight line, and there are still pockets of Park Avenue that are ripe for renovation — former Bohemia Restaurant, we're looking at you ... with increasingly misty eyes.

But stalwart amongst the comings and goings in this funky cool section of the Spa City is the tidy and tiny Bailey's Dairy Treat, 510 Park Ave., with its distinctive neon ice cream cone serving as a beacon to those who not only tolerate lactose, but revel in it.

Every Arkansas community needs at least one of these — an ice cream and burger drive-up, hopefully from the Truman era, but at least strongly evoking the days of sock hops and cult of personality radio DJs. (Lucky Hot Springs has an embarrassment of creamy riches in this arena, with Mamoo's ParadICE Cream and a Kilwin's on Bathhouse Row nearby, crosstown rivals King Kone on Malvern Avenue and Frosty Treat on Grand Avenue, and with bougie Dolce Gelato and Scoops "Yes We Really Make It Here" Ice Cream holding frozen court on the other end of Highway 7.)

Bailey's mixes up its menu from the standard dairy bar fare with offerings of fried rice and egg rolls and the like, and they are a refreshing off-script surprise. But if you're here, you're here for shakes, ice cream or burgers, probably in that order, and that's where Bailey's shines brightest. Long may you anchor Park Avenue, Bailey's Dairy Treat.

— Stephen Koch Best non-museum museum

The only place that has issued me a handwritten IOU this century sits on Grand Avenue in Hot Springs, just south of historic Bathhouse Row and the Hot Springs Farmers Market. Google Maps calls it Young's Trading Center Inc., but the business name printed in Durango Western font across the old general store-style façade — Young's Trading Post — gives a much more accurate indicator of what lies within. James Henry, the 83-year-old patriarch of the antique palace, sat in a rocking chair at the open-air entrance last Saturday, occasionally chiming in as his daughter (and Young's co-owner), Karrie Jackson, regaled a few curious visitors about the history of the place.

Jackson pulled out a color photo she says was taken sometime between 1952 and 1955. In it, a surlier twentysomething Henry stands in front of the very same storefront, dressed in a striped linen shirt and dark blue jeans with the cuffs rolled up, with what appears to be a red pencil tucked behind his ear. Beside him are his parents, Willie Matilda and Jim Henry. James, as it turns out, had gone to California to work in the logging fields for three months or so when he was called back to help run the new family business, a store the Henrys had acquired from Monroe Young, whose family was sort of a big deal in mid-20th century Hot Springs. "One set of brothers were in the law," Jackson said, "and the other set of brothers were in the moonshine business." Before their ownership, as a photo with "October 1940" scrawled on the back reveals, it was a fruit and vegetable stand, with the same corrugated tin facade.

Now, it's a labyrinthian warehouse with every square foot of its walls lined with old farm tools and wicker baskets and light fixtures and cookbooks and oil cans. Metal box fans circulate air through the corners and wooden rafters, and there's a loft full of antique furniture up a staircase with a preemptive "Watch Your Step" sign at the top.

It's more likely to smell of WD-40 than Old English — a sort of agrarian counterpart to the strain of antique shops lined with lace and chandeliers. It's a place people tend to recommend when you've searched everywhere else and still can't find a replacement for the broken ceramic radiant on your old gas space heater, or when you want to outfit your workshed with some vintage tin beer signs. It's also good for picking up slightly dusty things you weren't looking for in the first place, which could include, but are not limited to: a maroon-and-gold footstool with the Lake Hamilton Gray Wolf mascot where your feet should rest; a briefcase bar lined in coral satin straight out of a "Mad Men" episode, with its rocks glasses still in their plastic packaging; a 1920s enamel gas range by Laurel; an oversized tin sign advertising Salem menthols ("Menthol Fresh!"); a pegboard full of swing locks and cabinet hinges; a vinyl record titled "Good Times with The Happy Goodmans" next to an Oak Ridge Boys cover album subtitled "Songs We Wish We'd Recorded First" and a Ray Charles LP called "Country and Western Meets Rhythm and Blues"; cast iron skillets in all shapes and sizes; drawers of mismatched silver flatware; hacksaws; old-school stand mixers; blank Scotch-brand VHS tapes; ceramic beer steins from Pabst's and Budweiser's classier days; brass doorknobs; pedestal sinks; snow shovels; birdhouses; birdcages; a Royal typewriter from the Roosevelt era; a rack of glass soda bottles; china cabinets; a "Legend of the Lone Ranger" tin lunchbox; a tiny beige Panasonic TV with an earphone jack; empty cans of every sort of salve, remedy and household cleaner imaginable (something called "$1,000.00 Guaranteed Moth Killer," for one); myriad lampshades and wrenches; washboards; an elaborate hinged octagonal jewelry box made of popsicle sticks; box fans from the days when box fans weren't plastic; and at least a hundred items whose original intended function eludes me. One of these items, I'm certain, is the perfect purchase to make with that lingering $7.50 IOU burning a hole in my pocket, and Young's is a perfectly fine place to get lost in, realizing that you've whittled away your afternoon muttering "Look at this" and "What is it?" to yourself at turns for a few more quarter hours than you'd planned.

— Stephanie Smittle Best summertime sweet treats under $3

There comes a time in the peak of every Arkansas summer when the heat's oppression feels historic: Lethargy sets in, the body humors are overwhelmed by choler and sweat, and even the best conversationalists are reduced to nonstop complaining about the temperature.

Treats of the sweet and frozen persuasion are the best salvation I've found for the proverbial dog days, and Little Rock has some pretty damn good ones. Here are my top three, all found at stellar local establishments, all quick, all easy to take on the road:

Paletas La Michoacana from Del Campo a la Ciudad

I was a paletas naysayer for some years, mostly because they're usually sold at top-dollar by people who don't speak Spanish and at a smaller-than-appropriate serving size for adults.

Enter Del Campo a la Ciudad, a taqueria mercado on South University with countless festive and culinary treasures — delightful paletas de hielo o crema (ice or cream), crispy chicharrón (fried pork belly) and an immaculate piñata display.

The paletas with a cream base are where it's at, particularly those de coco (coconut), arroz con leche (rice pudding), café (coffee), fresa (strawberry) and mango (mango). They are exceptionally rich and velvety, with some notable chunks of fruit or nuts of cookies dispersed throughout. Take the coconut paleta. Something about an opaque white popsicle is just plain satisfying, and the shredded coconut flakes are a welcome addition.

Del Campo a la Ciudad, at 6500 S. University Ave., is open 9 a.m. until 9 p.m. Monday through Saturday.

Frozen lemonade from Shark's

Sharks Fish & Chicken is a chain with a down-home feel and delicious food: Each franchise is locally owned and has specialty menu items, striking real-life shark photography, a bold teal and yellow color scheme, signature lemon-pepper dust (ask for it on everything!), and a brilliant condiment caddy that I give thanks for every time I set foot inside.

The frozen lemonade is of premium quality, and because there's a new Shark's popping up every which way in this town, they are easy to acquire. People tend to have views on ice, and they know what they like — I've heard the term "soft ice" uttered affectionately on many occasions. The frozen part of the drink is exceptionally cold, and the iciness falls somewhere on the spectrum between margarita and snow cone; it's somehow both crunchy and soft, and there's an unexpected delight that comes when the lemonade concentrates at the base of the cup. Last I asked about flavors, I was told each brick and mortar has its own selection (all have classic lemonade, my favorite), including Orange Tang, Pink Lemonade, Cherry Lemonade, Grape, Green Apple, Strawberry and Fruit Punch. I have yet to make this pairing, but I believe any aforementioned frozen drink would pair well with clear liquor.

Shark's Fish & Chicken is open 10 a.m. until 11 p.m. or midnight every day of the week at all of its locations in Central Arkansas.

Sugarcane Coke float from K. Hall and Sons

K. Hall and Sons holds a special place in the heart of the Little Rock community for a host of wonderful reasons. For me, it's a nostalgic spot, reminding me of my days of cutting class at Central High School to pick up a fried chicken to-go box and a bottle of Orange Fanta. K. Hall hosts a legendary Seafood Saturday during the hot months of the year with shrimp, lobster, crawfish and a line of customers around the block. And, for those who know where to look, it sells soft-serve homemade vanilla ice cream in Styrofoam cups.

Slide open the door on the glass-top freezer near the checkout and reach for the unmarked Styrofoam; it looks like a coffee cup with a pull-back drinking tab. The homemade ice cream somehow maintains its softness, even after being immersed in a deep freezer. I recommend purchasing a bottle of sugarcane sweetened Coca-Cola from the ice bath, consuming about half that vanilla cup, then pouring your soda inside the cup (may I suggest creating a few shallow caverns with your spoon for easier saturation?). What results is a coke float of the highest order, one that both quenches my thirst and brings me back to what it felt like to skip school looking for treats.

K. Hall & Sons Produce, at 1900 Wright Ave., is open 8 a.m. until 6 p.m. Monday through Saturday, 8 a.m. until 3 p.m. Sunday.

—Rachael Borne´ Best non-sexy way to be in the dark with strangers

High church and hot yoga are for the devout. And, while the net serenity yielded is, no doubt, commensurate to your 90-minute investment in mindfulness, sometimes you have more like ... 17 minutes. Tops. And an affinity for sleeping in on Sunday mornings. And perhaps a commitment to the idea of divinity that vacillates between lukewarm and "I'm not religious, but I'm spiritual, you know what I mean?" So, for the rest of us, there's the weekly Compline service at Christ Episcopal Church — a quarter-hour of sung prayers, short readings and silences, intoned by candlelight every Sunday at 6:45 p.m. in a 179-year-old church downtown. If you're looking to get right with the universe, and feel like that's better accomplished with psalm than with pranayama, pull up a pew (or a kneeler) at the corner of Scott Street and Capitol Avenue every now and again.

— Stephanie Smittle The best county for cool relief

Last week, some old friends who used to live in Arkansas but now live in New Jersey came for a visit with their kids. It's somehow remained light jacket weather at night in New Jersey and our friends came off the plane in long sleeve shirts and hoodies to 100 degrees. We spent several days talking about frying an egg on the sidewalk. Then we did one of the few things you can do outdoors in Arkansas in July and feel cool, even cold sometimes: We drove to Stone County and plopped our butts into the Sylamore, the mostly spring-fed creek that originates somewhere in the Ozark Mountains. The water was so cold that, even though I'd been cursing the sticky triple-digit heat for weeks, it took me a few minutes of hemming and hawing before I let anything above my knees get wet. It was also crystal clear; you could watch little bream nibbling at your toes. Swimming kept us occupied for the bulk of three days, but on our way home we made the obligatory visit to check in on the stalactites and stalagmites and bats of Blanchard Springs Cavern, where it was a blissful 57 degrees.

— Lindsey Millar Best pizza night shortcut

I can cook, but I can't bake. Whether that's due to some misunderstanding of the craft or some unnamable necrosis of the spirit infecting my being, I'm not sure. I've just never had success with yeast. My attempts at homemade bread or pizza always end up as airless and dead as the surface of the moon.

So, I was pleased to make the discovery recently that Vino's sells fresh pizza dough at a bargain rate. For $3, you can get a double-fist-sized portion of dough, equivalent to a large pizza. It comes ensconced in the same plastic clamshell used to package a calzone or a salad — flour-dusted and pregnant with possibilities, like some great ghostly mushroom harvested from a distant, malt-scented forest.

I like Vino's pizza. But honestly, I like what I've made at home from their dough quite a bit more — maybe from simple pride of ownership or maybe because I get to use exactly the ingredients I want. I suggest jalapeno escabeche (homemade, if possible), a little chorizo from Farm Girl Meats and a modest layer of shredded cheddar. Or, if you can get past the perversity of turning on the oven in August, a summertime Margherita with fresh Arkansas tomatoes and front-yard basil. It's life-affirming even for those of us dead at heart.

— Benjamin Hardy Best local spat

In September 2017, the Eureka Springs Independent reported that six box elder trees in the quaint, quirky mountainside town's North Main Music Park had been vandalized. Well, sort of. The vibrant crochet coverings that decorated the tree trunks — created by crochet artist Gina Gallina for the city's "Art of Crochet" Festival — had disappeared. Rumors circulated. Conjectures flew. Letters to the editor were written. Dendrological hypotheses about whether yarn-wrapped trees are more susceptible to disease and stunted growth were formed and discussed. The breathability of yarn was called into question. "If I find out who they are, and I catch 'em," Gallina said in a radio segment on KUAF-FM, 91.3, "I'm gonna make 'em learn how to crochet!" Would that social divisions in Little Rock could be woven of such stuff.

— Stephanie Smittle Best Little Rock collection

Earlier this summer, an anonymous local started the Instagram account @letterrockarkansas to document the wonderful and varied typography found around town. It's an essential follow for those who enjoy design ephemera or simply delight in trying to figure out where they've seen that type. Favorites include the massive wooden "Club Jimmy" sign, once wired with 255 lightbulbs, but knocked down by a storm long ago, that leans against the side of Jimmy Doyle's Country Club off Interstate 40; a modernist Church of Christ sign with a letter missing that reads "Church O Christ" with the caption "All out of F's"; and the chunky, hand-painted drop-shadow Sims Bar-B-Que sign outside the Barrow Road location.

— Lindsey Millar Best collection of business cards

Foster's Garage, the classic, no-frills body shop mainstay at 409 W. Eighth St., has been collecting the business cards of patrons and vendors apparently since the Eisenhower administration. They're contained within the span of an arm's-length corkboard on the wall in the garage's unceremonious lobby, and the card collection is augmented so gradually and delicately that each card is gingerly tucked into the folds of the cards that preceded it; our own tiny, greasy, secular version of the Wailing Wall.

— Stephanie Smittle Best political protest

Look, when you manage to piss off Willie Nelson — the unofficial ambassador of stoner serenity and goodwill toward men — your path is surely strewn with hubris and folly. The 85-year-old played a June 29 set at Verizon Arena — the finale to an Outlaw Music Festival that began at 4:30 p.m. that Friday — and included a rendition of his 1986 release "Living in the Promiseland." The song, sung as a trio with Nelson and his two sons, is a bittersweet anthem of an America that, theoretically, anyway, counts Lazarus' "New Colossus" as part of its ethos: "Give us your tired and weak/And we will make them strong/Bring us your foreign songs/And we will sing along." And, performed at such a crucial juncture of the family separation crisis at the nation's southern border, it read as a blistering indictment of our broken immigration policy.

— Stephanie Smittle Best return

After a long hiatus, David Jukes, one of Little Rock's greatest — and least heralded — singer/songwriters, dropped two EPs under his Magic Cropdusters moniker this summer. "Snowfall" collects songs Jukes recorded with Jeff Matika (Green Day) playing bass and Max Recordings head honcho Burt Taggart (Big Cats) playing drums in the mid-2000s in a Denton, Texas, studio owned by Matt Pence (Centro-Matic). Joe Cripps, the Little Rock native and famed percussionist, helped pay for an album from the sessions and to distribute it. When Cripps went missing in 2016 (he still hasn't been found), the record fell into limbo. "Snowfall" represents a scaled-down version of that album. It's five songs, many familiar to longtime Cropduster fans, like "Hey Wonder," "England" and "Marry Them for Free." The other EP, "Woodstock," was recorded more recently in Woodstock, N.Y., at a studio owned by Jukes' former bandmate in The Gunbunnies, Chris Maxwell. There's a cryptic beauty to Jukes' lyrics that emerges after repeated listens. That's easy to do because his warble and general pop sensibilities will have you immediately bopping along. The records, via Max Recordings, are available for purchase at maxrecordings.com, and on streaming platforms.

— Lindsey Millar Best, no, actually, the only music festival worth attending

The whole experience of attending a big music festival feels like participation in an overwrought performance art piece on the pitfalls of consumerism. You're looking for a special experience, a fun time, a little reward for your weeks of toil. You pay way too much money to gain entrance to a gated community that promises unique access to an array of precious goods — the bands and artists you adore — and spend hours of extra labor finagling the logistics. It'll all be worth it, though — because just look at that lineup.

You wind your way through an acre of security and get stamped with the imprimatur of elite access. Then, once inside, plot twist, YOU'RE the ones trapped in a borderline humanitarian crisis. It's hot, it's crowded, everything smells like a urinal cake. Induced scarcity jacks up the price of basic commodities (bottled water, kebabs) and you grow to loathe the hordes of fellow sweaty mammals jostling for limited resources. You retreat inward mentally, become beady-eyed and narrow-minded, jealously protect the pitiful patch of turf you've staked out in front of whatever beer-branded stage is presenting whatever performer you've come to see. You damn well better see them up close, and you damn well better enjoy yourself after all this trouble, because you paid for it with your own money, goddammit.

Then there's Valley of the Vapors, the antithesis of all that.

VoV, in case you haven't heard, is a five-day nonprofit-run festival in Hot Springs that captures bands as they travel to and from SXSW in Austin, allowing it to attract a fantastic spread of under-recognized national and international talent. This spring, a day pass was $10. The music is mostly to be found at one of two venerable venues in town, Low Key Arts — the driving force behind VoV — and Maxine's. There are also a few "secret shows" that pop up in unexpected places. Around 4 p.m. on a rainy Sunday this March, about two dozen of us crammed into a Waffle House on Central Avenue to watch a goofily too-cool-for-school Brooklyn rocker named Zuli churn out swaggering guitar riffs, occasionally using a sugar dispenser as a slide. Later, at Low Key Arts, I was treated to a succession of artists playing everything from country to bouncy indie pop to gloomy, Eels-esque bedroom ballads on a tiny electric keyboard. Some of it was good, some of it was not and at least two acts were genuinely terrific.

What makes VoV truly special, though, is the miracle of your fellow concertgoers: You don't despise them. There's just something about being crammed into a big festival that breeds contempt. At Valley of the Vapors, that sour note of impersonal hostility turns to one of, well, actual community. It's an all-ages affair, so you'll see teenagers, a handful of families, older folks. You're in it together, and you're there to hear music you'll probably never get the chance to hear again. What could be better than that?

— Benjamin Hardy

2018 Best of Arkansas editors' picks

#2018 Best of Arkansas editors' picks

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junker-town · 7 years ago

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The U is finally fun again, but in a very Mark Richt kind of way

After years of failing to remind anybody of the glory days, the Canes are starting to carry themselves a little bit more like the Canes again.

In Week 6, the Miami Hurricanes finally beat the Florida State Seminoles, breaking a streak that’d dated back to 2009. With the victory, the Canes also hit 4-0 for the first time since 2013.

It would appear that Miami, now ranked No. 11 in the country, finally has its swag back, but it’s not the exact same swag that was the trademark of the program from the late 1980s to the early 2000s.

Let’s take a quick trip down memory lane.

The U’s dynasty dates back 30 years, when the Hurricanes found massive success, with national titles in 1983, 1987, 1989, 1991, and 2001 — but with a non-traditional style.

The U’s identity was being the team that came off the plane wearing army fatigues before the 1987 Fiesta Bowl and the program that later inspired the NCAA to create taunting rules.

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Miami fans loved it. Younger college football fans loved it. A lot of people hated it. But in the decades since, as the program tried to clean up its image, a lot of supporters — such as 2 Live Crew’s Uncle Luke — worried the program was erasing its identity.

Miami’s now consciously referencing its classic era, but with new twists.

There’s physical evidence of this — Miami’s turnover chain! Every time a Canes defensive player forces a turnover, he’s donned with a very Miami-esque piece of jewelry.

Baller. http://pic.twitter.com/RxM7SBwnv5

— Canes Football (@CanesFootball) September 2, 2017

According to the Sun-Sentinel, two weeks before the season started, UM cornerbacks coach Mike Rumph called a Miami jeweler to ask if he could make a rope chain.

“Naw, man,” chimed in [former Miami Hurricane Vince] Wilfork, recently retired after a 13-year NFL career. “We got to do the Cuban link, AJ!”

The consensus among the three was a collective “Hell yeah!”

“In Miami, what are we famous for? We’re famous for the Cuban chains,” Machado says. “But we need to add a little something to it.

“So we did a big U charm — orange stones, green stones in there to flash it out.”

What U know about school spirit??? Ball hawk of the week goes to my guy Malek Young @uno_deuce_ ✊ ⛓@realkingofbling @joshthejeweler @miamihurricanes @canesfootball #yourjewelersfavoritejeweler #realkingofbling #custom #gold #miami #miamihurricanes #hurricanes #canes #canesnation #theu #um #305 #madeindade #nfl #onlybuilt4cubanlinx #homegrown #collegegameday #swag #mvo #miamisveryown #turnoverchain

A post shared by ajsjewelrymiami (@ajsjewelrymiami) on Sep 2, 2017 at 1:10pm PDT

But Mark Richt’s version of swag is a different than the past.

“Here’s the deal with swag,” Richt said via the Palm Beach Post. “I’ll say this: if you want to dance, go to the club. I’m about whipping somebody on the other side of the ball, OK? That’s what swag is. Swag’s not about how you dress or how you dance or how you try to talk to somebody, all that. That’s a bunch of bull to me. Swag to me is doing your job and doing it well and whipping somebody across the ball.”

He’s explained this philosophy to his players in pregame:

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“Everybody talks about Miami having ‘swag,’” Richt said before 2016’s Appalachian State game. “When I took this job, all they wanted to talk about [was], ‘Is Miami getting the swag back?’ I said, ‘You know what? Swag ain’t dancing to me. Swag ain’t saying, ‘I got a first down.’ Swag ain’t swaying before a kickoff and they run back to the 45-yard line.

“Swag is whooping the man on the other side of you! That’s what swag is. Swag is, when the game’s over, we win the game! That’s what swag is.

“I don’t care what the boys did in the past. The reason why it was swag is because they WON! Not because they had some kind of antic. You understand what I’m saying? I’m counting on every one of you guys to whoop the man across from you, EVERY. SINGLE. PLAY.”

After Miami’s win over FSU, he stopped his team from doing a very “The U” thing.

Some of the Canes players began simulating digging a grave over the FSU logo. Richt came in hot and put a stop to that real quick, to say the least.

#Canes coach Mark Richt telling his players to get off the Seminole head after #Miami win #GoCanes http://pic.twitter.com/Vv3qqztDVv

— Carlos F. Pineda (@CarlosFPineda) October 8, 2017

The rebuke was swift, and there’s an audible “ass” in there. Richt was, at least for a moment, pretty upset about this.

There are likely a few things at play. First, Richt got his biggest break in coaching from his time at Florida State. He was Bobby Bowden’s offensive coordinator, and from there became Georgia’s head coach. There’s an ingrained respect for the institution. There’s also the fact that he knows that that will become bulletin board material for next season for the Noles, and tempers might have flared if there happened to be any FSU players still around.

Richt is also a pretty pious fellow. It’s not a veneer, and that’s not me poking fun. He’s just a pretty staunchly Christian man.

One of his former players, Garrison Smith, said this about him a few years ago:

“I’ve seen coach Richt so mad one time that he almost said a cussing word. He said fiddlesticks,” Smith said. “A lot of people put on that façade of being a Christian guy and it’s just a tool that they use. I can honestly say, and I’m a stand-up guy, that coach Richt, he’s a genuine guy.”

That doesn’t mean Richt’s Miami is boring.

"I've been coaching 33 years and I've never had more fun than just now." - @MarkRicht http://pic.twitter.com/1rDASp4VI6

— Canes Football (@CanesFootball) October 9, 2017

He’s continued his backflipping-off-a-high-dive tradition at Miami, which he did each offseason in Athens.

Richt’s annual summer camp in Coral Gables is dubbed Paradise Camp. Last summer, he had a slew of former legendary Canes on-hand for it, including Ed Reed, Jeremy Shockey, Willis McGahee, Michael Irvin, Jonathan Vilma, Wilfork, and Devin Hester.

As a former Hurricane himself, Richt’s got an inside pull on the recruiting trail already.

“I understand the pride and traditions of the University of Miami, academically, athletically, football in particular. I know what it’s about,” Richt said via the Miami Herald. “I came close to being on a national championship team, left in ‘82 and that ‘83 team was the one. … I do understand what’s expected and really, I don’t want to make a lot of promises other than I’m going to promise we’re going to get to work and we’re going to try to earn the right for victory. It’s a process and it does take a lot of work, it takes a lot of people doing things the right way.”

His 2017 recruiting class ranked finished 12th in the nation, Miami’s best since 2013.

He’s even rocking a goatee now, which he didn’t have at Georgia.

So hey, I guess this could qualify as Richt’s swag!

To be honest, it kind of looks like the Evil Mark Richt goatee that EDSBS created for him back in 2012:

Evil Richt does all of the things Mark Richt did in 2007, encouraging outlandish celebrations, winning games, throwing caution to the wind, and calling plays that work more than once or twice in a football game. Mythologically, he is the harbinger of victories and the antithesis of the Bobo-guard, the living avatar of Mark Richt's often beneficial and always frustrating conservatism.

Conservative UGA Richt might’ve called for something safe to set up a game-tying field goal late against Florida State, but Miami Goatee Richt called a shot to the end zone to beat the Noles right then and there.

Whether Miami’s program is truly BACK or not, Canes fans certainly are.

long time coming but it's here now. @canesfootball beats @fsufootball we r really on r way back. my reaction in my suite when we scored http://pic.twitter.com/rnxEtjypEG

— Michael Irvin (@michaelirvin88) October 7, 2017

Confirmed. RT @OfficialCSO: MOST MIAMI FAN EVER. http://pic.twitter.com/4X8dnpksvT

— rebkah howard (@pink_funk) October 7, 2017

I think @edsbs put it best when he compared the Miami fan base to a poison dart frog; small, colorful, and dangerous http://pic.twitter.com/bAJLFQuDOd

— Brody Logan (@BrodyLogan) October 7, 2017

http://pic.twitter.com/uQqspbt1ox

— DABESTEVAROUND (@hish1520) October 9, 2017

Miami still has a lot of big games in front of it, including a home game against Georgia Tech this Saturday, some road games, and Virginia Tech and Notre Dame. But this is already an exciting season and Miami team, and I can’t wait to see what it does for the rest of the year.

Especially if defensive tackle Kendrick Norton keeps playing guitar on rival quarterbacks’ legs, something the Canes of old definitely would’ve appreciated.

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dancemotionusa · 8 years ago

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A Personal Reflection on Singapore

Written by Ernesto Breton, Stephen Petronio Company Dancer

The final leg of our trip took us to the city-state of Singapore. Its majestic city skyline and busy nature reminded me of the concrete jungle back home. After teaching and living in Thailand and Vietnam for the first three weeks of this tour, we were now surrounded by an ostentatious pageant of wealth that could rival any international city of the West.

As a native New Yorker, this city was a return to what I was used to: people hurrying passed each other in concerted matrixes, cars rushing to make their respective green streetlights, the sounds of palm tree leaves dancing with the wind down a quiet side street, and the accessibility of everything. High-rises dominate the horizon with little enclaves of gorgeous colonial era revivals and private McMansions holding fast to the grounds changing all around them. This massive leap forward is in part a result of the ruling party’s semi-authoritarian government. In layman’s terms, they figured Singaporeans would rather be told what to do and think after their abrupt and unilateral divorce with Malaysia, than starve and have anarchy run rampant.

Photo by Jaqi Medlock

It’s a tough proposition, as an American, to support. Would I rather have my basic civil liberties stripped from me for the good of society, or would I choose to live freely and let the will of the people decide their own fate – even if that meant the uncertainty and volatility of unstable governments? In retrospect, Singapore has long since moved past its struggling beginnings and now dominates as a major global commerce, finance, and transport hub. Not once did I see a homeless person on the street, and the city seems to have an extensive social security net. One of the special populations I visited was a select group of kids at the Spectra Secondary School. This secondary school was designed for students who didn’t obtain strong academic achievements, or were undisciplined at the early stages of their schooling, and as a result were brought there as an alternative to falling behind. We started the first day of workshops by having Stephen teach a quick warm-up. This proved to be one of our more challenging times with them. With the group being about forty strong and the workshops taking place in a gymnasium, it was hard to orate the steps without the space swallowing the sound as it left your mouth. Their curiosity also led them to talk amongst themselves – and no I’m not coddling the situation. I could honestly say that they were just trying to figure out what they were seeing. > If there is one thing my colleagues learned from me during this tour it is my capacity to rein in a group of rowdy kids – but in Spectra, I didn’t see it necessary. < We played a series of call and response games and added choreographic elements like mirroring, sounds, and syncopations to the movements. Towards the end of day one, we broke the students up into two mirroring lines and had them perform the choreography while moving forward, keeping with their groups. I saw kids that were extremely timid break through by helping others that were falling behind. And others, take charge when things went awry. Their capacity to problem solve on the spot was strong and it reminded me of the fun that could be had while working and making skillful connections.

Day two at Spectra started off with Stephen, Nick, Josh, and myself jumping into choreographic games with the kids. We were afraid that they were going to be over us but they were giddy to jump straight into the work. We quickly broke up into four large groups and had them follow either Stephen, Josh, Nick or myself. In my group, I wanted to share being a leader so I had the kids follow someone and when that person saw an opportunity to pass the baton, they did. Without trying to mitigate the course of the group too much, I took a back seat and let their imaginations lead the group through the whole gymnasium. We ended the day by having them create movement using eight of the call and response moves they had played around with earlier. We coached them when needed but for the most part, we enjoyed watching them figure things out and work as a group. At the end of the day, we staged the four pieces for some faculty and the school’s principle who were there to see what the kids had been up to. We were truly happy to have had such a successful workshop and we hope that they gained the confidence to stand by their abilities. I later found out that the school creates a safety net for its students by providing the kids with vocational studies; if they can’t achieve academic success, they can at least be a productive member of society with a trade. This safety net is great, but how can one possibly know a child’s true potential at that early of an age? The kids participating in these workshops were in their early or pre-teen years, and to me, their lives were already categorically decided for them. I understand that my participation with them only revealed the tip of the iceberg of their individual capacities, but I still question this crazy obsession by rigid educational systems to have kids strive to be great academic scholars at an early stage, rather than enjoy their early years through other creative and effective means. The pressure to be a great scholar was tangible. And sadly, I don’t think this pressure is being levied on to them by Spectra. On the contrary, I think Spectra is trying to find ways to keep these kids engaged and motivated in their work. I was happy to be a part of a workshop, sought by the school, to help further these kids with their education. They were as skillful and curious as any other bunch of young and pre-teenagers that I have taught back in the States.

Addendum:

Singapore was the clean city I had read about online. Most of the buildings are LEED certified green and its city planners demonstrated a keen understanding of how to create space where space was not available. When I wasn’t prepping for a workshop or eating by the poolside of my hotel, I was able to navigate the city without questioning my sense of direction. Everyone speaks English for the most part. You’ll enjoy Singapore if you want to: consume a delicious array of Thai, Malay, and Chinese cuisines; shop at high-end and cheaper Western clothing stores; have a deep purse to support you; experience a vibrant melting pot of different cultures; get sun poisoning by the pool even if it’s cloudy; or experience the hot and humid tropical weather.

#dmusa #exchangeourworld #cultural diplomacy #stephenpetroniocompany #southeast asia #singapore

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