Maps and Power

Maps and Power

JNAF

21/06/2024

Maps and their powerlessness. when many maps come together, they create an impermeable matrix where one cancels the other, and eventurally, the available space becomes redundant for any meaningful upgradation and /or occupation. Maps also become a way to соmpete, escape or obstruct an opportunity. Most of the times, maps lie with the powerful, power-holding bodies, and not with the people who оссuру ground, who live the life of map in reality. How do we give charge of the place and its maintenance to the actual inhabitant rather than getting lost in the multiple overlapping and conflicting bodes that wantingly or unwantingly lay claim or parcels of land that seem to have produced or arrived at a different social change?

How does time play a role in producing such incongruencis? (How) is planning (the practice of planning) related, complicit in such misalignments? Are such misalignments themselves ways of asserting producing power. Is such power a way to create political dialogue that feeds political interest? whom does such dialogue benefit? In other words, what is the "economy" of such misalignments, such conflicting maps? How is responsibility deflected through such maps, and how are delays produced- whom do delays like these benefit?

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Does a forest become a forest in its unfamiliarity? (as compared to a garden) One knows all plants and species one brings to a garden.

A Plastic Parody

Full Essay Published here
https://serendipityarts.org/writing_initiatives/a-plastic-parody

A Plastic Parody

author: Anuj Daga

On a warm July evening in the Oworonshoki suburb of Lagos, residents from the nearby slum neighbourhood gather around a rather worn-out community hall in the corner of a large open ground beside a massive community water tank built during the previous election, that lay dry for the last five years. Two young men walk past the onlookers, urging them to pick up discarded plastic bottles collected from the neighbourhood streets in large polypropylene sacks, for what will emerge into a communal orchestra. The music beaten out through these empty bottles of purchased water along with other locally made instruments marked the opening of the Slumparty 2023 event. Originally started by Obiajulu Ozegbe or ‘Valu’ and his collaborators in 2019 as a way of mobilising the youth in the underprivileged areas of Lagos to alleviate the tension and violence within the community; Slumparty has morphed into an annual event that brings movement artists from across the world in their pursuit of redefining the perception of slums and overlooked sites in Lagos, through performance.

Slumparty became a serious affair soon after its first iteration when a performance of the local youth, who were otherwise turning to crime and divergent social activities due to inadequate access to infrastructure or issues of unemployment, compelled the local authorities to repair the street where they performed. Realising the potency of performance as a transformative tool, several performing artists, musicians, and visual artists gather annually thereafter to address socio-political and environmental issues through the festival, while training the youth in experimenting with contemporary forms of expression. In its edition for 2023, themed “Village of Dreamers”, artists from Tanzania, India, South Africa, New York, Cameroon, Ghana, and various parts of Nigeria were invited for a workshop to channelize latent insecurities into productive desires amongst the youth. This essay shall focus on one such performance conceptualised and executed during the event by the Ennovate Dance House the day after Slumparty’s inauguration.

Amongst the several collaborative and experimental acts lined up to take place on the street-turned-stage on the following day within the Oworo neighbourhood, the one that stood out was ‘Afro Communal Offering’ that addressed various social, political and environmental concerns. In this performance, a beastly creature completely clad in colourful plastic bottles creeps up from around a garbage bin, invading the street-stage with its jubilant dance. Soon taking over the space, the creature exerts a ferocious yet seductive appeal, swinging and jumping to engulf the audience in its being. Alarmed by its unusual advances, a few young men enter the scene, beating the masqueraded beast with wooden sticks. As its plastic skin begins to splinter, the creature slows down, finding its way out of the site/sight. Subsequently, a body covered in white emerges from the same garbage bin, and by demonstrating complex dis-entanglements, the body brings a certain calm to the otherwise volatile site.

Given the cultural context of Africa, the history of Lagos, and its contemporary challenges, ‘Afro Communal Offering’ is a particularly layered performance. In the Yoruba culture of Nigeria, masqueraded performances have long been a symbolic way to communicate a spirit’s message to the community through dance and other forms of expression. In a contemporary interpretation, the masquerade here is a costume constructed by stitching an abundance of empty and leftover plastic bottles into the colourful tentacles of the beastly body - simultaneously attractive and repulsive - much like the ghostly and inevitable presence of plastic in Nigeria’s everyday life today. The dance of the plastic beast on the street speaks to the spectacular presence of undesired waste suffocating the life of its people. Enveloping oneself thus, in plastic waste produced through the inevitable consumption of an everyday essential commodity like water, in itself makes a compelling political statement.

Water woes are historic for Nigeria. One recalls Nigerian musician and political activist Fela Kuti - the principal innovator of Afrobeat - singing Omi o l'ota o in Yoruba, which is loosely translated in Pidgin English as ‘Water No Get Enemy’. Fela is not only calling out the corrupt postcolonial regime’s apathy towards the struggle for water as a resource , but also suggesting how its provision would assure success for anyone who attended to it within the system. Fela’s lament, from 1975, fifteen years after Nigeria’s independence, holds relevance until today. In several of Nigeria’s neighbourhoods, including Oworonshoki, accessing everyday drinking water is still a struggle, as it often has to be purchased from departmental stores or local suppliers for the lack of functional water-supply lines. Water is traded and exchanged in plastic gallons and bottles replacing the need for the traditional earthen calabash in Nigerian households. Valu, the choreographer of the performance elaborates: “Whether we buy or the government supplies, it is general practice now to use plastics to store water, it’s part of the reason why some parts of Lagos are very dirty as plastics have blocked the drainage system.”[1]

The beating up of this masqueraded beast by young men of the community therefore gestures towards the beating out of not only the damaging aspects of plastic from the environment and Nigerian everyday life but also the bane of bottled water. In another view, it is a demand for sustainable supply of potable water that will prevent the dependence on petty plastics. The white spirit emerging out of the garbage bin further references several local practices. The spirit is clouded in white powder which is rather significant for Nigerians. In Yoruba culture, when a person gives birth, the friends and family smear white powder on their face to celebrate and bring the new child into the world. Striking irregular poses, wrapped in a cloud thus, the other-worldly spirit speaks of both water and youth to lay tender ground for a healthy future. The appearance of the white spirit followed by the young men beating the plastic beast with a stick is also reminiscent of the Eyo festival celebrated by the Yoruba people. During this festival, the streets of Lagos are lined with performers clad entirely in white holding a palm stick, to ward off evil spirits and purify the city. In many ways, the act invites the youth to take up some purpose against these environmental evils that seem to be politically rooted.

Performed consciously and consistently on the dust-laden, yet-to-be-finished streets of one of the poorer neighbourhoods, Slumparty has brought significant change in the perception of Oworonshoki that was seen as a dark district in Lagos until 2019, into a place of celebration and political action. It is the condensation of multiple histories and futures through their embodiment in sound, space, materiality that (re)produces the everyday environment and social reality for public imagination. Dancing on the streets makes them safer, mobilising opportunities for the youth to express and assert their presence in the city. As new acts are performed, residents peep out of their rusted tin-roof houses, transforming the site into a theatre of possibilities. Professor of sociology and urbanism Abdoumaliq Simone, in his book For the City Yet to Come articulates: “Urban Africans have long made lives that have worked. There has been an astute capacity to use thickening fields of social relations, however disordered they may be, to make city life viable.”[2] In this vein, ‘Afro Communal Offering’ thus entangles the body and the city, reincarnating traditional tropes of African culture into the proliferating toxicity of plastic that not only becomes the material to produce music and masquerades but also eventually turns into a dark metaphor for the state of transforming ecosystems, unequal access, and asymmetrical modernity in Lagos, Nigeria’s economic capital.


Inputs by Ennovate Dance House
All images and videos by the author.



[1] Valu, founder of Ennovate Dance House in a conversation with the author.


[2] Simone, AbdouMaliq. For the City Yet to Come: Changing African Life in Four Cities, New York, USA: Duke University Press, 2004. https://doi.org/10.1515/9780822386247

Sum up note / Shanghai Other Other Conference May 2024

on ethnographic practice

It has been a wonderful two days. And I must put a disclaimer - I dont know what to think about it but I'm probably the only person who is not a PhD person. But still and also I'm an architect, I've not done much ethnographic work, really, but still I mean, I want to say that from what I could learn from all the presentations, that it's a lot about negotiation of meaning. And what I was thinking throughout is: ‘is or isn't meaning provisional? and you know, and does meaning operate temporally in experience? Because how do we understand ethnography which is inscribed in the meaning that is the changing locus of both the subject and the object? Like what I understand today is not what I understand of this object tomorrow, and what this object is today will not be the same object tomorrow? So, you know, if the meaning of an event is continually changing with the evolving lives of the subject and object, then what do we make of a given ethnographic process or product? and this was the thought that, you know, was running in my mind.

And the second is my engagement in this, in, like, my closest association with ethnographic kind of practice, is to kind of coordinate with many kinds of people. In the sense that you know, my or even my context of other other coordinating with many others in curating. Or when i'm kind of bringing many people together to kind of understand what are the vulnerabilities they are experiencing or assuming or foreseeing in getting somewhere, doing something, and as a curator, I'm always kind of trying to help them mediate that - sometimes effectively, sometimes not, sometimes Getting into many fights, and because of lack of, you know, conversation, and I wonder if this can itself be an ethographic reflection. 

Yeah, so, yeah, and as an architect, I am trained to read spaces. And so I kind of do ethnography of spaces and objects, and I kind of like to think through Appadurai's Social life of Things or Kopytoff’s Cultural Biography of Objects, because we feel that people because we think of people as embodiment of spaces; or embodiment of spatialities and therefore I'm interested, or I also think of it as archaeology of space, or in some sense, reading space to excavate behaviors of people. So in that it is in that sense that I kind of think of ethnography and ethnographic practice. And so, you know, in that sense, i've been thinking that what other qualities than an ethnographer must possess. And what, after all, is the ambition of ethnography, you know, because we all were kind of discussing some time ago that, you know what jobs we'll do, or whether we should do academic practice, or whether or not we should join corporate spaces and stuff like that. But what do we really want to do as ethnographers? And I think in the least it can be, of whatever we want to do, it could be about culling out of concepts of space and living. You know, rather than creating regimes of control because you've seen that colonial ethnography has mostly been about controlling, and I've also been very skeptical about these Area Studies Departments that come in many Western universities, because they have, primarily, it's the historic force behind. Kind of a new colonization. So i'm always skeptical of these Area Department or area department studies, so I don't know how to think about it. But also I mean, therefore, how do we produce frameworks of alternative practice through our new ethnographic context?

So with that, I kind of invite you all to think and linger through these thoughts and bring this Bring this two day intensive workshop to conclusion and invite you for dinner.

Bumbling Conversations / On Loudspeakers

I write this as I feel gently irritated through my quiet and unproductive day, forced to overhear the loudspeakers shouting off crass bhajans on the corner of my street junction. This street junction is always made and remade with sets for political campaigning and speeches, festival celebration, public events, street theatre - all this while it doubles up for the everyday as a katta for old people, a reading station, eatery, bus stop, hawking, and so on. But that for another day. 

Speaking back to the loudspeakers, I had quite an insight towards the insanely loud music that our festival farewells are accompanied with. Yesterday was the immersion day for those who bring Ganpati for five days during the Ganesh Chathurthi festival in Mumbai. This ritualistic procession towards the immersion is often jubiliant while people ironically chant "Ganpati gela gaavaala, chein pade na aamhaala" literally translated as "The Ganpati goes back to his place, making its people restless." To this thought one questions what precisely holds the sentiment as people organize for orchestras that can play the most upbeat songs from films when seemingly they chant of sorrow. A unique mixture of celebration and catharsis, these processions are full of people dancing, drinking in the blindness of disco lights in the no-place of the street. To a large extent, Ganesha and the festival thereof is a proxy. Much like during its inception by Lokmanya Tilak to bypass authoritarian control over public conversation, the bringing of Ganesha and the festival is an opportunity to do many other things: businessmen network in bringing partners home under the pretext of darshan of the deity, political parties campaign through posters put up around respectively funded street corners, local mandals organise youth to collect money and put together a structure, women socialise and organise their own programmes - all in all, the event is the onset for the festive season in India.  

Still drowned into the numerous discordant sounds coming from the diverse directions from the window into my years - which I certainly cannot avoid - all sounds of some form of celebration, I present this short conversation with a stranger that helped me put all of the above in perspective. 

"Its bursting loudspeakers here. Midway time visarjan. Ugh. Can't tolerate!"

"I dont like but I can tolerate."

":)  You can like it too. [just that] Its decibels should not exceed the max human beings can hear"

"Yes. Wonder what people like about it and they pay for it"

"What have these songs got to do with visarjan? All disco."

"It's become a fest / disco / all nighter for those who cannot afford / or are allowed such things.  Such things that are everyday and accessible for many of us bout for some it is luxury or rarity both. Hence I tolerate. But noise pollution yes! That's a downer."

"Ok. That's a very good perspective. You mean to say it's cathartic release for the lower classes?"

"Celebration... also and it is quite an ultimate equaliser for this city. Brings all classes together"

"I am not sure it equalizes class"

"Sab ganpati laate hain...sab visarjan karte hain. A businessman and rikshawala both at Juhu Beach with their families...feeling the same thing"

"Very interesting. Sure. I buy that!"

Spirograph

Pushpakanthan, Bhise at Experimenter

The Waiting Room

The Waiting Room is an exhibition-proposal to invite participants of the ICAS13 conference to linger through the inquiries of the research programme ‘Youth on the Move: Performing Urban Space in Global South’. Sponsored through the grant programmes of the Urban Studies Foundation since 2023, the project has grown substantially through collaborative networks and intellectual exchanges sustained through the support of French Institute Pondicherry, Humanities Across Borders and International institution for Asian Studies, Leiden and the Lagos Studies Association. ‘Youth on the Move’ investigates diverse and non linear space-time relationships that the youth inhabit and co-produce while navigating urban space across Asia-Africa. ‘The Waiting Room’ is a knowledge-sharing exhibition narrating about 50 stories of youth across Africa-Asia documented in collaboration with the growing network of actors and institutions that have germinated through the ongoing field work and across the region.

Literally, ‘The Waiting Room’ is a place within the conference through which people not only pass by, sit, idle, catch up on breath, take rest, chit chat but also note information, read stories, make connections, wander, contemplate; activating the work of imagination. Metaphorically, it indexes a host of allied practices and subjectivities through which the urban youth perform the politics of living within the global south, navigating the never fully implemented infrastructures, lack of sufficient state support or traverse desires and destinations to escape everyday anxieties. The practices invented to reconcile or circumvent these situations demonstrate modes of enterprise and meaning making, and showcase a liminal situation of becoming, thus bringing the notion of a static space, i.e. the waiting room, in dialogue with that of being on the move.

Imagined as a transitory and fragmentary portal / pavilion within the conference site, the waiting room is a receptacle of multiple temporalities in material and space that hint at the politics of (in)visibility of youth in the region of Africa-Asia. It brings viewers to consider the dialectics of youth-actions and corresponding (un)folding urbanities through stories that may offer new insights into their own practice of maneuvering their respective contexts. In the form and material held within the waiting room, visitors may engage and play, make friendships, maneuver around rules, share information - thus building agency and networks for the(ir) future.

***

In addition to the above cited institutions, the curators would like to acknowledge the academic support offered by Peking University (Beijing), Tongji University (Shanghai), School of Environment & Architecture (Mumbai), Ambedkar University (Delhi), Geoffrey Bawa Trust (Sri Lanka), DBSA Art Programme (Nairobi) as well as the local partners from Surabaya. Scholars from the above institutions shall contribute to the story-telling and participate in the round table discussion entitled “Linger Longer: Collaborative Engagement in Collecting and Narrating Young Peoples’ Stories”.

 

Youth on the Move Team

Anuj Daga (School of Environment and Architecture, University of Mumbai)

Min Tang (Tongji University)

Ying Cheng (Peking University)

Contributors

Advit Kalgutkar

Andrew Adigwe

Anu Sabhlok

Brian Otieno

Collective Research Initiatives Trust (CRIT)

Dream Building Service Association (DBSA)

Dimas Ijat

Dwiputra Rizkyandhani

Ennovate Dance House

Illuminate Theatre Productions

Ka Kin Cheuk

Li Dong

Min Tang

Nadya Perera

Nancy Chelwek

Nisha Nair

Nitesh Patel

Patrick Shomba

Prakriti Shukla

Pranjal Sancheti

Prasad Shetty

Rezza Lellyana

Rupali Gupte

Ryan Herdiansyah

Qidi Feng

Segun Adefila

Shambhavi Bhushan

Studio Immaterial

Tatiana Thieme

Wong Liensheng

Ying Cheng

Yusuf Avci

Zenzo Siamenda

Production

Tasyha Febrycha

Taufiq Ezha Prianto

Site Assistance

Ayos Purwoaji

Gata Mahardik

Execution

Anggie Arizal Geovanni

Gilvan Rachmadhany

Lutfiah Setyo Cahyani

Aliyya Azra Amanina

Annisa Rahmatillah

Muhammad Afif muqsith

Sarah Nur Rizqi

Nayla Dewi Putri Wardana

Happy Firnie Nur Khaila

Bryan Setya Darma

Acknowledgements

A4 Museum

Charlot Ngwenya

Deep Desai

Dimas Kuswantoro

Sunil Jambhulkar

Read more here

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The design below was never realized as is, but was adapted to the forces of the site. the drawings below are thus, work in/from the waiting room for The Waiting Room.

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The Rhetoric of "World-class"

As airport roofs and bridges collapse, so do India’s claims of ‘world-class’ infrastructure

https://indianexpress.com/article/opinion/columns/airport-roofs-bridges-collapse-india-claims-world-class-infrastructure-9442147/

Published on July 9, 2024, online in Indian Express

read HERE

Pasar Pabean, Surabaya

Surabaya - Part 1

Surabaya is the second largest city in Indonesia, after Jakarta: and this is the most cited introductions you will find about this place everywhere across the internet. It seems to be the financial capital of the country, just like Mumbai. Moving through the city on bikes, cars and foot over ten days, one of the key things I kept thinking was about how it was a city slower than Mumbai, but faster than Goa in India. With a modest scale, largely low rise builtscape, articulate roads, no central intercity mass transit system, clean environments and several pockets of kampungs or urban villages, the city is a safe and warm one. I chose to stay in the central part of Tunjungan in Surabaya which seems to be the most favoured districts by the tourists - evident from the large presence of most hotels, banks and shopping areas in this area, including the famed Majapahit Hotel founded in 1911 in Dutch design, that has also been a site of staging the freedom movement. Tunjungan was clearly the city centre. I was visiting Surabaya to put up an exhibition at the Airlangga University for the upcoming ICAS13 conference, organised within the city where about 1500 scholars working on subjects of humanities in Asia would gather. 

As I walked along the streets on the first day with the young yet-to-be interior designer, and our production assistant for the exhibition Tasya (Caccu), I could not help but notice the cast iron manhole covers that kept occurring on the pavements at regular intervals, bearing the mark of a shark and a crocodile. Tasya cursorily informed me that in traditional language, suro meant a shark, while boyo meant a crocodile. The shark and the crocodile always face each other almost in a floating dance of sorts. These are not simply to indicate sea creatures that the city is along, rather, a considered historical reading will help you index them to not only a regal dream, but also a battle of Surabaya fought during the Indonesian national revolution. In Javanese, "sura ing baya", means "bravely facing danger," which is one of the genealogies of the city name. Another close etymology says it is derived from the Pali words - 'sura' - or 'asura' alluding to beliefs and 'bhaya' alluding to danger. Jayabaya, a 12th century psychic king foresaw a fight between a giant white shark and a giant white crocodile taking place in the area. The two animals are further thought to represent the conquest between the troupes of Mongol ruler Kublai Khan of China, and those of Javanese monarch of the Majapahit empire during 1293.

Small distances may seem long drawn while moving on wheels in Surabaya due to the one-way road regulations across most of the city. While they make the movement smooth and fast, they also make the city a notch difficult for the pedestrian since crossing the roads comes as the risk of wading through past moving bikes and cars. Grab, Gojek and allied mobility services exist for non vehicle owners and cover the city quite efficiently. Due to such conditions, one doesnot see density of walkers on the pavement. Infact, such side spaces in the city get claimed as picnic spots over the evenings by young people circled around small shops three wheeled shops, or some call them the "five legged" shops in Jakarta (three points of rest of the shop, and two legs of the shopkeeper). As the sun sets, youngsters lay small mats and sit along the pavement eating and sipping ice tea.

Surabaya has a lot of street food. There are several warkops and warongs that sell affordable food in a wide variety of vegetarian and non vegetarian along with allied savories. Several of these often spill out into semi open spaces where people sit, gather, or take quick halts for catching up on a meal, coffee or chat. These spaces remain open throughout, and some of these warkops remain open throughout the night. Several young people access these late night, and the city remains quite safe in the dark. Food in Surabaya is more flavourful than China, using a wider variety of spices. Rice and fish remains principal, although one can find enough vegan options. (Disclaimer: In Surabaya, eggs are largely considered vegetarian, and fish / shrimps will be in most fried rice). Surabayans like sweetness in most foods. So, a gado gado (kind of salad) will be sprinkled with sweetened peanut sauce as much as the benin coconut water that will have its own dose of sugar/syrup. (Never had I ever had coconut water with sugar). The vegetarian foods will principally dubbed into mushrooms and tofus, but there is also tempe made out of soya bean seeds which is quite nice.

One of the things that the internet doesn't alarm the Indonesia-visitor is that there are full chances that despite getting a local sim card, it may not work on your phone. This is simply because your phone IMEI numbers need to be registered with the country's system to authorize your bandwidth usage. Unless you go to a service centre (garabari), and get this registered with your passport, the plan you purchase will not be activated on your phone. This process may take up about 15 to 20 minutes. While the local shops sell much efficient and cheaper plans, they may be unable to register your IMEI. However, at the airport, you shall find counters where such a service is available along with the local sim cards for a higher price. Should you be able to wait, you can get this done once you are in the city. A provider such as telekomsel should serve better for it may have more service centres across the city. I was able to figure the issue through my friend Dushyant who had recently visited the country and faced a similar issue. While he wasn't able to explain me the the situation, his wisdom of not lending me his sim card, and its loose explanation stayed with me, which made sense only when I ran around to get the issue sorted for myself in the city.

Becha is an old form of vehicle carrying two passengers over short distances today. The rider sits behind pushing the passengers sitting in the front through the cycle pedals. While much city has transitioned into the motorized vehicles, the becha is still available in some parts of the city, primarily the kampungs where perhaps it survives its last generation. Some of these humble ones are even motorized. Nevertheless, these are certainly becoming cultural vestiges of this place.

The Kali Mas river, meaning the Golden River in Javanese, largely runs across the main city and you will find yourself crossing it time and again as many roads loop around it on account of maintaining one ways. Most of the times, this  40 metre wide river is lined by roads in both the sides joined by multiple bridges across. While this river was once used as an entry way to the Majapahit empire, to being used for operating a major trade port during the Dutch rule, today it is largely cleared for recreational activities. The river edge was cleared of squatters during 2008 followed by water cleaning programmes. One will find several monuments and plazas along the river that seem to be geared towards maintaining the beauty of the edge for the tourists.  One can see the famous bamboo sculpture, the shark-and-crocodile sculpture, the war shop which is now a public monument, all lined along its banks.

The kampungs are scaled spaces with rooms on both sides along a 3 m wide alley. I didnot get a chance to peep into the homes, and felt it would be very intrusive to do so. Outside the homes, people often put plants. Some homes have intermediate semi outdoor spaces but these may not be as evident as the otlas or verandahs observed in South Asian inner cities. People may occupy outdoors in the evening, however most of the times I walked through the kampungs, they had very few or no people. They share common toilets and have a bathroom which has a small water reservoir. Kampungs are shaded and cooler passageways than the vehicular streets which seem unbearable to walk during the sun hours. Many of these kampungs are transforming into commercial enterprises.