An escape from CDMX

Posted by Leo Schwartz – MA Candidate at CLACS / Global Journalism at NYU

Mexico City epitomizes the urban sprawl: endless avenues more traffic than pavement, Russian doll neighborhoods boomeranging between high-end condos and lower-class housing, waves of smog rolling through the dry lake bed. In other words, every clichéd piece of language one could use to describe a mega-city. Having been here for five weeks (just kidding…I’m doing this blog post on time, two weeks after I arrived), I needed an escape from the city. Luckily, a couple friends were headed for a trip to Tepoztlán, one of the towns with the coveted “pueblo mágico” designation in the bordering state of Morelos, and for the sake of my sanity and my respiratory system, I eagerly tagged along. As my thesis is still being reported out—and of course includes some top-secret bombshells that I’m keeping closely under wraps—I’m writing a travelogue (I apologize).

To avoid the crowds, we met at the southern transportation hub of Tasqueña bright and early: 7 am. Mexico City—CDMX, DF, whatever you want to call it these days—is as worthy of the distinction “the city that never sleeps” as New York, with a much more robust informal economy of street stands hawking pretty much anything you could want at any hour. We hopped on a bus and headed out of the city, steadily climbing in altitude as early-morning fog shaded the surrounding mountain ranges and volcanos (which I was assured were not active) with an ethereal glow.

Tepoztlan

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Gladyswan Andreswan

Cochabamba, Bolivia. Photo by Favio Antezana, CC 2.0 https://www.flickr.com/photos/fachoantezana/25702852731/

Kay rimaypi Chimore llaqtapi Gladyswan tata Renewan parlarichkanku. Ñawpaqtaqa tata rene pichus kasqanta riqsirichikun. Chantaqa imatachus chay UNIBOL jatun yachay wasipi yachachisqanmanta parlarin, astawampis ñawpaq yuyaykuna mana chinkananmanta. Chantataq ima pachapichus sach’a k’utunamanta parlaspa tukuchin.

En este diálogo Gladys y don Rene están conversando en Chimoré, un pueblo en Bolivia central. Primero, don Rene da a conocer su biografía. Luego, habla sobre lo que enseña en la Universidad Indígena Boliviana (UNIBOL), sobre todo, que no debe perderse los saberes ancestrales. Y, termina, hablando sobre la época en la que se puede cortar árboles; ya que, de acuerdo a la cosmovisión quechua para que la madera sea duradera. Los árboles se pueden cortar cuando estos estén maduros, por el mes de marzo, y no cuando estén retoñando, por el mes de agosto.

In this conversation Gladys Camacho Ríos is talking with Don Rene in Chimoré, a town in central Bolivia. First, Rene shares his personal story. Later, he talks about what he learned at the Indigenous University of Bolivia (UNIBOL), above all, that it is important not to lose ancestral knowledge. And he ends talking about when one can cut trees, according to Quechua cosmovision, so that the wood is durable.  The trees can be cut when they are mature, in March, and when they are not sprouting, by August.

NYU hosts Indocumentales screenings in November

 

1Relaunch -Indocumentales

The Center for Latin American and Caribbean Studies NYU, Cinema Tropical, and the World Council of Peoplesfor the United Nations / What Moves You?, will host the latest installation of  “INDOCUMENTALES: A Film and Conversation Series Exploring Latin American Migrant Experiences in the United States,” on Thurs., Nov. 15 and Tues., Nov. 27 6-9pm, at NYU’s King Juan Carlos I of Spain Center’s auditorium (53 Washington Square South.

INDOCUMENTALES will include a Nov. 15 screening of David Riker’s critically acclaimed “La Ciudad” (1998), followed on Nov. 27 by Jim McKay’s most recent feature, “En El Séptimo Día” (2018).

Twenty years between their releases, the films nevertheless employ similar narrative structures and production models: both are filmed on location in New York, in Spanish, with primarily non-professional actors. Both films speak to the struggle of newly arrived Latin American migrants for survival, respect, and meaning in unfamiliar territories.

Both screenings are followed by panel discussions meant to bring together filmmakers, scholars, activists, policy makers, and community representatives. The discussion will be conducted in English.

“La Ciudad” (David Riker, 1998, 88 min. In Spanish, English, and Korean with English subtitles)

LaCiudad

Four gritty stories chronicle the Latino immigrant experience in New York City. In the first, desperate day laborers risk their lives working in unsafe conditions for low pay. Then, newcomer Francisco (Cipriano Garcia) gets a respite from loneliness when he meets a kindhearted woman. Next, homeless puppeteer Luis (Jose Rabelo) battles bureaucracy to register his daughter for school. Finally, garment worker Ana (Silvia Goiz) struggles for the paycheck that could save her sick daughter’s life.

Trailer:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0E0gXl-oGWw

“En El Septimo Dia” (Jim McKay, 2018, 92 min. In Spanish with English subtitles)

SeptimoDia

 

En el Séptimo Día is a fiction feature following a group of undocumented immigrants living in Sunset Park, Brooklyn over the course of seven days. Bicycle delivery guys, construction workers, dishwashers, deli workers, and cotton candy vendors, they work long hours six days a week and then savor their day of rest on Sundays on the soccer fields of Sunset Park. José, a bicycle delivery worker, is the team’s captain – young, talented, hardworking and responsible. When José’s team makes it to the finals, he and his teammates are thrilled. But his boss throws a wrench into the celebration when he tells José he has to work on Sunday, the day of the finals. José tries to reason with his boss or replace himself, but his efforts fail. If he doesn’t work on Sunday, his job and his future will be on the line. But if he doesn’t stand up for himself and his teammates, his dignity will be crushed. Shot in the neighborhoods of Sunset Park, Park Slope, and Gowanus, En el Séptimo Día is a humane, sensitive, and humorous window into a world rarely seen. The film’s impact is made quietly, with restraint and respect for the individual experiences, everyday challenges, and small triumphs of its characters.

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gYg3mAJTWSE

 

CLACS continues “Latin America’s 1968” series with Tropicália legend Tom Zé

TomZe

In Latin America, 1968 marked the apogee of the social, political, and cultural transformations that had been unfolding in the wake of the 1959 Cuban Revolution. To mark the 50th anniversary of this momentous year, the Center for Latin American and Caribbean Studies (CLACS) offers a film and lecture series that will explore and celebrate its significance in the region.

The first two events of the series focused on cinema, featuring screenings of new films by the Argentine director Albertina Carri and the Chilean director Javier Correa. 

On November 5th, CLACS will host a public dialogue with the Brazilian musician and composer Tom Zé, a foundational figure of Tropicália movement of 1968, a brief but powerful movement in music, theatre, film, and visual art. Known for his juxtaposition of avant-garde poetics and popular music, Zé’s music and performance is steeped in irony and social critique. Having launched his career with Tropicália, he fell from public view as he continued to develop more experimental pop music. In the 1990s, he regained international visibility with the release of a compilation of his work from the 70s and two innovative albums featuring new material. He continues to perform and lives in São Paulo. Tom Zé will be in conversation with professor Christopher Dunn of Tulane University, the leading scholar of Tropicália and Brazilian culture of the 1960s and 70s.

Events are held at NYU’s King Juan Carlos Center, 53 Washington Square South, at 6:30PM. Advance tickets are available and are required for entry.

Map and territory: LIFE TRANSLATED FOR OTHERS (3)

by Santiago Barcaza S., MFA Student

When the Nobel Prize was given to Beckett, the Swedish Academy considered the set of his texts in English and French as a single work and at the award ceremony, its dedication to “one man, two languages and a third nation” [ Ireland].”

Beckett is the self-translator who has received more attention and more studies have been done since he was the first to arouse interest in self-translation as a subject of study (Cohn, 1961). The anecdote is the following: the impossibility of finding an English publisher for his texts, considered at the time as untranslatable, caused the author to translate into French his work Murphy, written in English and published in 1938. From 1946, Beckett writes only in French, something that is quite difficult for him, and he translates himself into English. The recognition comes in 1953, the year of the appearance of En attendant Godot and Trilogie. The self-translation into English of the first, Waiting for Godot, appears a year later, in 1954, when it is reconciled with the English language. From that moment on, he continues writing in both languages and exchanging the directions of the self-translation.

By the way. To the question; why self-translate? It is not difficult to understand the eagerness of authors like Tagore or Beckett to reach more readers, to ambition as soon as possible a place in the history of universal literature. But there is also another literature. There is a literature that comes from the bosom of cultures that resist extinction, languages that do not give ground to the languages of the colonizers.

odi gonzales
The poet Odi Gonzales

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Chilean Popular Poetry and Biblical Psalms (II)

viña

Central Valley of Chile

by Fernanda Martinez Varela, MA scholar at MFA in Creative Writing in Spanish. 

 

RESULTS

Similarities

a) Context of use

Some psalms and a particular type of the Cantus to the divine have its use in ceremonies and community celebrations. The Cantus to the divine based on the “Angel’s farewell” refers to those songs that are performed after the death of a baby during his wake in order to alleviate the sadness of the parents through singing. It is a celebration because is assumed that the boy or girl will go directly to heaven since he or she is free from sin. On the other hand, in biblical psalms we can find some texts that have their use in ceremonies and feasts. Psalms 114, 115, 116, 117, 135 have their use during Easter; psalm 118 during the Pentecost; psalm 47 during the New Year… This resemblance may be due to the fact that both songs are connected by their ritual nature, which, according to the RAE, is related to ceremonies by custom that are performed with a sacred character. In the case of “Angel’s farewell”, the passage from life to death; in the psalms, in general, the festivities highlighted by Christianity.

b) Past and present

The tradition that is updated in those who pray or sing is important in both discourses. In the Cantus to the divine is the tradition that contributes to knowledge, since the songs are transmitted from generation to generation, but is also the tradition updated in the singers according to the situation where the enunciation takes place. For example, in the “Angel’s farewell” the song is updated to comfort the mother who suffers because the death of her son/daughter; the mother is named, the guests are greeted, etc. On the other hand, in the biblical psalms, is the man´s experience with god what is transmitted to the next generation but it is also updated because is the prayer who shares from his present the experience transmitted by the text. Thus, both come together in a common religious feeling. Regarding the above, Collin (1997) writes: “El salmo es un poema bíblico, es decir, un instrumento para recordar la tradición de un pueblo; es un instrumento que todo usuario recibe y que debe tomar en la mano y agarrarlo con fuerza” (p.7).

Map and territory: LIFE TRANSLATED FOR OTHERS (2)

by Santiago Barcaza S., MFA Student

Without wanting to dwell too much on certain aspects proposed by academia, I am surprised that there are two currents of thought: one that regards self-translation as an unusual phenomenon, a marginal activity and another one that supports the opposite. I will not use this space to delve into one or the other. I agree with the outstanding researcher of translation studies Julio César Santoyo, when he says:

Seen the seen, one can not help but wonder: can we continue talking about the self-translation as a phenomenon ‘rather weird’ or ´exceptional´? We are not faced with rare exceptions but before an immense corpus, increasingly of texts translated by their own creators. Far from being a ‘marginal case’, the author’s translation has a long history and is today one of the most frequent and important cultural, linguistic and literary phenomena in our global village, and certainly deserves much more attention from which has been borrowed so far“.

In fact, the first known self-translator is the jewish historian Flavius Josephus, who in 75 AD wrote in Aramaic, his mother tongue, the seven books of his first work, The War of the Jews, to later revise it and translate it to the Greek. From then until today, self-translation is a common practice. They form a group so broad and so diverse that it is impossible to list them all. However, as a sample, I quote a short selection: Fray Luis de León, Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz, Stéphane Mallarmé, Samuel Beckett, Joseph Brodsky, Vladimir Nabokov, José María Arguedas, Milan Kundera, et cetera. However, addressing the self-translation in one of these authors runs the risk of falling into exceptional particularities and the preparation of a rather monographic study. Nobody doubts the fact that these authors are interesting, but that some are paradigmatic, as to help understand or illuminate the act of self-translation – for example, of poets of indigenous origin in southern America- is perhaps another issue. So, I wonder what is really the self-translation? Why? And for what?

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