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Helping Women Express
themselves
by V Radhika
A recently-concluded creative arts workshop for South
Asian women in Toronto provided a rare platform for immigrant women to
talk about their stories and experiences through different art forms. Far
removed from their country and families, often ignored by their busy
husbands and children, the workshop was a cathartic experience for the 20
participants, most of whom were about 45 years of age.
Organised by the Parkdale Community Health Centre
(PCHC), an NGO, the workshop started in November 2003 and concluded in
April 2004. The centre runs a wide range of programmes - health projects,
legal services, English language classes and also skill building courses.
The idea of holding such a workshop, says Ms Shaista
Thanvi, the South Asian project coordinator with PCHC, came after several
interactions with women immigrants. The centre realised that a lot of
these women get isolated in Canada. Even after living in Canada for
years, many have no social life and no friends. The isolation is more
pronounced among older women.
The women arrive in an alien country and have to
struggle with unfamiliar systems and languages while raising their
children. Some are force to find jobs (mostly low paid) to sustain the
family. Many have never worked before and the pressure of coping in a new
environment, a new job and a new language/culture is tremendous. Today,
as they grow old, they feel lonelier still: their families neglect them
and they have little communication with the outside world.
“There are many wellness groups that give information
about healthy living, but what these people need is not just information
but someone to talk to. And it is a known fact that emotional well-being
holds the key to physical well being as well. If we break their isolation
we feel many other problems can be solved,” said Ms Thanvi.
At the workshop, different art mediums - painting,
clay modelling, collage making and filmmaking - were used to help the
women express themselves.
Ms Connie Collinson, an expressive art therapist, who
has been working with women in Parkdale area for some time and is
involved in this project, says, “We decided to do an animation film where
they would address issues they are experiencing and also explore
different art forms. Women are doing the animation themselves; they are
learning to use a digital camera, and produce their own film.”
Expressive arts therapy has evolved in recent times to
reach out to people who are not from the mainstream culture. The therapy
is particularly used with women who are feeling depressed and isolated.
The workshop made some women feel special again. “It recreated my
childhood,” said Ms Jasbir Kaur, while making toys with clay. “Those days
we could not afford to buy toys, so we made our own toys with clay. After
so many years, when I was provided with clay here it brought tears to my
eyes. Not so much because it brought back memories, but because someone
cares so much for us,” she said.
Ms Thanvi says, “We were apprehensive whether women
who come from South Asian cultures would tell their stories. But they
were ready to do so. In fact, the first session itself was too intense
with some of them breaking down.” She adds: “What overwhelmed them was
that someone would be interested in their stories.”
However, the objective of the workshop was not limited
to getting these women to share their stories between themselves but to
use their narratives to reach out to other South Asian women in Canada.
—WFS
The Dear Departed
In Memory Of Dear One
by Samir Haldankar
OUR first meeting was unexpected; perhaps it was
destined that way. It was raining cats and dogs that night. After having
dinner, I was standing on the verandah inhaling breaths of cool air.
Suddenly, my eyes fell on her. I was perplexed like a person falling in love
at first sight.
She was standing there shivering in the cold and was
soaked from head to nails. I was about to turn away when her deep
searching eyes captured my movements. We never before had a cat as a pet
in our house. I was all for her but wondered how would my mother respond
to her entry in our house?
However, keeping all these secondary thoughts aside, I
quietly carried the tiny cat into my room. I wiped her body and served
some milk, which she drank in one breath. And, soon she was sleeping
coolly on a bed I made for her out of gunny rags. Next morning when the
news about the cat leaked out, there was uproar in the house. I tried to
convince my mother and sister that the cat would be of great help to curb
the mice menace. But they held their ground. However, I could convince
them only when I reminded my mom of her favourite saris which were
reduced to a tattered net by the mice. She half-heartedly agreed to let
the cat become a member of our family.
I baptized the cat with a Gujrathi word Chamchoo (which
means, how are you?) “Is that a name?” My family members asked in unison.
It was, I told them firmly. I called her Chemchoo and everybody followed
suit — reluctantly.
Within a few days of her entry in our house, she
gained the confidence of my family. In fact, she became my mom’s
favourite. She had full access to our house and was seen sitting on the
bed, terrace top and at times on the sofa watching television. But I
suspect, her favorite sitting place was on my lap — the place she
unfailing occupied every time I sat down to write. Interestingly,
Chamchoo used to respond to calls like a dog, which is very uncommon
among cats.
The other day Chamchoo died. I was informed only when
I was back from work. I was deeply shocked and felt my heart heavy. ‘How can
she leave me?’ I choked. That morning, before I had left for office, I
had spotted her lying under my dad’s car. She did give me a strange look
- somewhat like the one she gave when we had met for the first time. But
I didn’t understand it then.
With heavy steps I walked where my dear Chamchoo lay
buried. Standing beside her grave, I tried imagining how she must be
sleeping in the bosom of death. Unable to hold back my tears, I walked
back towards my house quietly resolving in my mind never to keep a pet
any more.
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