I don’t like pain. And I didn’t need a root canal to remind me of that. But the experience was instructive. The toothache, among the myriad things it brought to body and mind, triggered empathy–an identification with others.
I didn’t need a root canal to know I don’t like pain Read More »
In July I started to work away on a new play. I left the world of war-torn Europe (where much of my creative thought had been throughout the winter when I drafted a full length play, an exploration of Nazi occupied Holland during the Second World War). I moved my imagination behind the Iron Curtain.
Give much away, expect nothing in return Read More »
The tears trailed across Noor’s face, wove quietly into his narrative when he told us that his family – siblings, a mother, and two sons – were still in the camp. In this place where horrors were not only conveyed in dreams of the night. In this place that he fled. Still living, forever just sitting there, away from their country and, worse, away from him. His wife had run. He had no knowledge of her whereabouts.
Excerpt – Reflections on my time spent with Burmese Refugees in Malaysia Read More »
It was an exciting week on the She Has A Name front with a series of interviews and stories in the media and a reading from act one of the play in Calgary at Mount Royal University. I’m grateful to the people giving the play airtime, for our PR Wizard who is helping us to get the word out, and for people on the ground locally who are picking up the story because they believe in it, and want to see us succeed.
Why the justice movement needs the arts Read More »
I don’t know about you, but all the bad news of the day, reports of suffering and strife from around the world, is overwhelming and difficult for me to digest. What a blessed life to have the luxury of being overwhelmed by hearing bad news, rather than being overwhelmed by experiencing famine, rioting, or financial disaster first hand.
The S.O.S cry of millions – the faith and famine-relief legacy of Rosalind Goforth Read More »
I have a large envelope filled with old sermons that were written and delivered by my grandfather, Kalman Doka, throughout his ministry as a pastor of some 50 years. They were given to me by my grandmother a few years ago. I started to ask her questions about her life as a young girl, how she fell in love, what it was like to survive the Great Depression and live the War years. And after that, she started to send me his sermons, and her letters, and then more.
Two things have clearly crystalized through the process of bringing this story to life: we want produce great theatre and we want to lead people in a response. The play is the dramatic telling of an imagined story placed in a plausible setting of a fictional trafficking case. It is meant to shine light on the real world of trafficking, to ask big questions, and dare I say, make some suggestions.
A finger in the wind Read More »
I sat close to the seven men, shook their hands, prayed for them under my breath as Ellen took what information she needed from them in order to get them out of detention. The young man I spoke with, his English simple but clear, told me a little about life in the detention centre.
The horrible drudgery of detention for migrants Read More »
As she drove we talked. I peppered her with questions about the Detention Centres and her work ministering to Vietnamese workers who by some ironic twist of fate, or a bad decision, and usually because of forces outside their own power, arrive in Malaysia legally on contracts, but become illegal in the process.
Undocumented migrants detained by Immigration Read More »
Some of the other men, like him sold to the syndicate, weren’t so lucky. Had no money at all. And after phone calls to what friends they had in Malaysia, or back home in Burma, or to Bangladesh, when they still were unable to come up with funds – RM 1600, about 500 USD, to pay the men who now owned them for freedom – the pistol whipping, the cutting, the punches and bruising ensued.
Impossible choices for refugees Read More »