Novi Travnik - In Novi Travnik, during the war, the mountains that sandwiched the town became a haven for snipers on all sides of the conflict. They shot at each other, as well as at civilians caught in the crossfire. Starvation ensued as civilians could not leave their homes to gather food and water.
Written by Danica Anderson Danica Anderson researches the folk dance traditions of the Slavic peoples. Her search would show her that the living circle traditions went beyond the Neolithic past to the Mesolithic , until Anderson was stunned to find deep in pre history, was the kolo. The kolo itself is an ancient word, with roots in Sanskrit, meaning wheel.
Through the kolo healing circle, the movements tell of women’s stories, in war torn zones, often expressing horrors and traumas that are unspeakable and indescribable. Through the dance they bear witness to each other’s traumas and importantly acknowledge the impact of violence in a manner that simultaneously exorcises it. The healing movements conducted harmoniously, connect the dancers with their roots, and repair the collective bonds that violence had torn asunder. Bosnia - In 2006, I joined with women from Ahmica-Vittez in Bosnia to offer remembrance for those who were slaughtered in a military-led ethnic cleansing on April 16, 1993. The survivors of this tragic war crime are mostly grandmothers, all of whom were spared because they were in the fields tending to the vegetables and the cows.
To this day, women gather together to share their memories and drink small cups of strong South Slavic coffee. In Bosnia I learned about coffee’s historic role in local women’s wisdom traditions. http://www.kolocollaboration.org/?item=16813 Sri Lanka - In 2003, an Italian NGO and UNICEF contracted me to go to Anaradapura in Sri Lanka and teach on the subject of gender-based violence. I stayed in a small house next to a hotel owned by a Sri Lankan and his Italian wife. Each day after conducting training, I would hurry out of the facility’s back gate to look upon a nearby reservoir. One day as I sat on a bench enjoying the view, I looked up and found myself staring into the eyes of a wild elephant. I was mesmerized by the elephants large eyes. We continued to silently look each other in the eyes, then the silence was broken by a whispered shout. It was the hotel owner calling out, telling me not to move. From my point of view, I felt completely at ease. After a few minutes, the elephant moved away and found a patch of ground to give itself a mud bath. I promptly began journaling about my encounter. The mud was flying onto the pages of my journal. I yelled at the elephant, demanding it to stop. The elephant did not stop. Instead, he lay down at my feet and slept. When the elephant finally rose, he stood before me and showed me its knee. It was injured. He stared at me a last time then walked off silently into the jungle. |