The Original Wailers and Me

When I was about 16 I really heard for the first time No Woman, No Cry (from Bob Marley and The Wailers’ Live! album) on a compilation CD that my Dad created. Then I read the biography, bought a couple of Marley CDs and then eventually hunted them all down and started growing my own dreadlocks and was the disc jokey for the Reggae Roadblock on KXUA 88.3, the University of Arkansas’ radio station. Well, I combed the dreads out with the help of my friends Jonathan and Grace and my sister Sarah (mostly Jonathan), and now I’m balancing between a love of hip-hop, folk, reggae, and spirituals.

Thanks to Bob Marley and the Wailers, a nascent and unacknowledged idea was given assurance, that of a world with social justice and peace, a world without borders, a world where we understand that our family and nation's well-being is not dependent on independence and competition, but that our own happiness and those we love most are best served by working in interdependence and cooperation with everyone in the world. Dad also introduced me to Alexei Panshin's "The New Celebrations," a collection of stories that according to Dad is about the human condition. So because of this and because of reggae I began to stir, to consider the possibilities of a mature world.

And about eight years later, on Tuesday, May 19th, 2009, thanks to my friend Rochelle (the first friend from home I've seen in Argentina!), I got to hang with Bob’s old group, The Original Wailers! Yippee!!



In the photo above you can see all but one of the current band members. To my left is Junior Marvin and to his left is Rochelle Bradshaw. In the video clip you can see everyone gettin' with it. We had sooo much fun, and the value of meeting and hanging with these unselfish and fun musicians... well, it meant a lot to me.

They played at Luna Park ( http://www.lunapark.com.ar/ )It is a major place in the microcentro of Buenos Aires. It’s also hosted a pope or two.

Here are Rochelle and me! Their schedule had been hectic and this was one of the few times she'd been able to sit down and have a meal.

I had arranged my work schedule to fulfill my hours, and then took a bus to Buenos Aires. Argentina is famous for its buses, and rightfully so; the super soft seat turns into a bed, literally, and a pillow and blanket are provided. The only drawback was an amusing one: I had to watch a string of mixed 80s music videos, and there was no way to turn off the plasma screen or the music. Ha!

Buenos Aires further enchanted me. I left on the night of the 15th from Resistencia and arrived the next morning in BA. I ate at Spring Restaurant, Bio Restaurant, and a great little French place, and visited my friend and Gurudev disciple Krishna. He founded this yoga/thai massage place: http://www.espaciothai.com/ He and I saw Star Trek together (Two thumbs way up!). I spent the days meandering around Palermo, which reminds me of Westminster in London, and I studied just a little on the side for you know what. (In case you don't, I'm referring to the Law School Admissions Test, aka the LSAT.)

And the leaves were falling and the air was chilly... it is fall in May! Which is totally strange. Seeing that previous to 2007 I spent 10 years marching in fall football games, I still feel like I should be suiting up and marching around whether it is to play Danville's fight song or the UA's.

While in Palermo, I stayed in the Palermo House Hostel and recorded a video for ya'll:



I'll eventually put a few more videos on youtube.com from The Original Wailers show as well as one from my favorite restaurant in the country, Spring Restaurante. It's oddly dramatic website is at http://springrestaurante.com.ar/

After having lunch (pictured above) at a really great French restaurant, I took care of some visa business for the Fulbright Conference trip to Sao Paolo, Brazil. In response to Bush's stiffer visa requirements, Brazil has made similarly bizarre demands of US citizens entering Brazil. They wanted a credit card statement, bank statements, and bla bla bla. But it all got taken care of, 'seems like.

After two nights in the Palermo House Hostel I moved to a hostel near Rochelle's hotel. We got to hang out the whole afternoon on Tuesday because the band didn't have to go to sound check. While we were hanging out, Annicia, a lovely mother of ten with perfect posture who also sings harmony, worked on Rochelle's hair... and Rochelle hooked me up with an All Access pass!! Thank you, Rochelle!!

And I took a picture of two exciting and important items (above): the All Access pass Rochelle got for me and my LonelyPlanet: Argentina tourist guidebook.

We all met in the lobby and rode the bus to the venue, hung out back stage, and then Rochelle, Annicia, Junior Marvin and I said a prayer and they all got to work. What a GREAT show. It was soooo much fun, and we visited back stage together before the encore... what a dream. And then Al Anderson played an awesome, soulful, beautiful solo for the first song of the encore. Loooooovveely.

So like I said... this show in Buenos Aires was VERY important to me because reggae was among the first things to share with me the idea of an international consciousness, an awareness that love for ones own backyard and immediate family is insufficient and even detrimental to that yard and that family. We are all called to love our whole planet, to “imagine it pretty and whole” to quote the poet from the last blog entry, and to work toward a planet of social justice and peace. Thank you, Reggae! !!

But I was in Buenos Aires for a few days before the show, and so I visited a few neat friends and neat places while I was there, including...

Katie and Kat! Fellow Fulbright ETA Scholars who made it to the show...

and who after the show met Rochelle and Annicia! Fulbright Scholars and harmony singers... totally sweet. Annicia made a huge impression on me; at least one band member was ailing and she cared for him, and she brought Rochelle some preventative medicine, and she is wise. Really tuned in, and wise. She's an inspiration. And like I said: perfect posture.

The Casa Rosada (The Pink House) was between me and the movie theater where Star Trek was playing, so I snapped a photo and kept trucking. It's like Argentina's version of our White House. It's the official seat of the executive branch, and when Evita famously greeted folks from its balcony, well, that would be one of those balconies to my right.

This is a picture of Puerto Madero (Port Lumber or Port Timber would be the direct translation... but madero can also mean oaf) I found on Google. It looked a lot like this on my walk to Star Trek except that it was drizzling.

There was a really fun band, La Todo Mal Orquestra ( The Totally Bad Orchestra, www.latodomalorquestra.com.ar ) in Plaza Palermo Viejo near my Indian restaurant and the yoga studio.

That's almost all for now, family, friends, and blog readers! I'd like to leave you with one more thing. The murder of Dr. George Tiller has me thinking about what is sustaining violence in our global society. Addressing violence at every level and responding non-violently, we will walk into a non-violent paradigm. But before then we might address what perhaps is the most prevalent form of violence: consumerism, buying things we don't need.

George W. Bush, perhaps the most terrible perpetrator of violence in recent history, had a three-
pronged violent response to the violence of 9/11. He had us invade Afghanistan, he had us invade Iraq, and when asked what the average American could do, he told us to go shopping. From the oil fields of Saudi Arabia from whence oil and thereby plastic can come, to the underpaid (and probably young and female) worker in China or Brazil or India or elsewhere making the junk, all the way to our homes, President Bush urged us to perpetuate this cycle of violence. For some, Bush's urging consumerism could be proof enough that it is a serious form of violence.

Bush's violent response correlates to the triumvirate of violence that was called out by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in a speech against the Vietnam War: "I am disappointed with our failure to deal positively and forthrightly with the triple evils of racism, economic exploitation, and militarism." If we are serious about delivering to our offspring a world wherein they might live safely and healthfully, we have to stop buying things. The true cost to the Earth and to ourselves is too high.

And so, clear as day I see the common trajectory of the bullet that killed Dr. Tiller and consumerism's violence. Clear as day are the common trajectories of bullets and violence in Iraq and Afghanistan and Tibet and Sudan, and the unnecessary junk (plastic, cotton, wood, diamond and otherwise) that I too often purchase.

"Planned obsolescence" keeps coming to mind, too, the building of stuff so that it falls apart after a few years so that the consumer then buys new stuff. There's a great and sufficiently brief documentary that you might enjoy about such stuff at http://www.storyofstuff.com/

Until next time, if I can't eat it, I'm not gonna buy it! ha!

And here's some lyrics (¡las letras, en español!) to a couple of great anti-television-pro-creativity songs. The first is, "Turn off the TV" by Still on the Hill. I heard this song in the days of my playing trumpet in a hip-hop-reggae band called D. West and the Unknown Soljahs in Fayetteville. It inspired me to get rid of my television. The next song lyrics come from "Television, The Drug of the Nation" by The Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy.

Turn of the TV by Still on the Hill
(from their album Mouth Peace , you might like to check out my friends’ website at http://stillonthehill.com/ )

The expressions that we use
the values we choose
the shoes we wear on our feet
the kind of car we drive
how we live our life
‘learned it from the TV

we’re like a sheep bein’ led to the slaughter
like a horse that doesn’t know how to quit drinkin’ water
drawin’ like a moth to a flickerin’ light of a television set
everyday and night

oo turn off the tv
turn off the tv
turn off the tv if you want to be free (2x)

you picked up a Gucci bag
you noticed that the tag
was a’whoppin’ hundred and three
but you couldn’t put it down
it was the hippest one around
‘learned it from the TV

so you reached in your pocket
pulled out your credit card
even though that you knew it was gonna hit ya hard
drawing like a magnet to a shopping spree
you learned to consume watching TV

oo think for yourself
think for yourself
the TV’s controlled by the ones with the wealth

oo turn off the tv
turn off the tv
turn off the tv if you want to be free (2x)

well the men in the suits
on the 6 o’clock news
decide how we view the world
if the news of the day says war’s OK
just watch the flags unfurl
if we believe everything
on the television screen
we’re just puppets on the ends of a string

media head, media head,
don’t believe everything that the television said

try to think for yourself
think for yourself
the TV’s controlled by the ones with the wealth

soo turn off the tv
turn off the tv
turn off the tv if you want to be free
oo turn off the tv
turn off the tv
turn off the tv if you want to be free

At the end of the day
when you gather your pay
you feel you deserve a break
settle in your easy chair
pop a cold beer
make the world go away
but whatever happened to all of your dreams
did you park them in front of a television screen
trying to convince yourself all the while
that you’re not drowning in a sea of denial
o zombie woman, zombie man
do you want to keep living in zombie land

oo media head, media head,
don’t believe everything that the television said

try to think for yourself
think for yourself
the TV’s controlled by the ones with the wealth

soo turn off the tv
turn off the tv
turn off the tv if you want to be free


Television, The Drug of the Nation
by The Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy
(www.spearheadvibrations.com is the website of the Heroes' lead singer's current band)

one nation
under God
has turned into
one nation under the influence
of one drug

Television, the drug of the Nation
Breeding ignorance and feeding radiation (2x)

T.V., its
satellite links
our United States of Unconsciousness
Apathetic therapeutic and extremely addictive
The methadone metronome pumping out
150 channels 24 hours a day
you can flip through all of them
and still there's nothing worth watching
T.V. is the reason why less than 10 percent of our
Nation reads books daily
Why most people think Central America
means Kansas
Socialism means unamerican
and Apartheid is a new headache remedy
absorbed in its world it's so hard to find us
It shapes our minds the most
maybe the mother of our Nation
should remind us
that we're sitting too close to the...

Television, the drug of the Nation
Breeding ignorance and feeding radiation on
Television, the drug of the Nation
Breeding ignorance and feeding radiation

T.V. is
the stomping ground for political candidates
Where bears in the woods
are chased by Grecian Foremen and
bald eagles
T.V. is mechanized politics
remote controlled over the masses
co-sponsored by environmentally safe gases
watch for the PBS special
It's the perpetuation of the two party system
where image takes precedence over wisdom
Where sound bite politics are served to
the fast food culture
Where straight teeth in your mouth
are more important than the words
that come out of it
Race baiting is the way to get selected
Willie Horton or
Will he not get elected on...

Television, the drug of the Nation
Breeding ignorance and feeding radiation on
Television, the drug of the Nation
Breeding ignorance and feeding radiation

T.V., is it the reflector or the director?
Does it imitate us
or do we imitate it
because a child watches 1500 murders before he's
twelve-years-old and we wonder why we've created
a Jason generation that learns to laugh
rather than to abhor the horror
T.V. is the place where
armchair generals and quarterbacks can
experience first-hand
the excitement of warfare
as a theme song is sung in the background
Sugary sweet sitcoms
that leave us with a bad actor taste while
pop stars metamorphosize into soda pop stars
You saw the video
You heard the soundtrack
Well now go buy the soft drink
Well, the only cola that I support
would be a union C.O.L.A. -- Cost Of Living Allowance
On

Television, the drug of the Nation
Breeding ignorance and feeding radiation on
Television, the drug of the Nation
Breeding ignorance and feeding radiation

Back again, "New and improved"
We return to our irregularly programmed schedule
hidden cleverly between heavy breasted
beer and car commercials
CNNESPNABCBCBTNT but mostly B.S.
Where oxymoronic language like
"virtually spotless," "fresh frozen,"
"light yet filling," and "military intelligence"
have become standard
T.V. is the place where phrases are redefined
like "recession" to "necessary downturn"
"Crude oil" on a beach to "mousse"
"Civilian death" to "collateral damages"
and being killed by your own army
is now called "friendly fire"
T.V. is the place where the pursuit
of happiness has become the pursuit of
trivia
Where toothpaste and cars have become
sex objects
Where imagination is sucked out of children
by a cathode ray nipple
T.V. is the only wet nurse
that would create a cripple


Television, the drug of the Nation
Breeding ignorance and feeding radiation on
Television, the drug of the Nation
Breeding ignorance and feeding radiation (2x)

PS:

The new haircut! Much thanks to my friend Claudia's friend, a hairdresser who donated her work, time, shampoo, and water to the project.

This photo was an accident; I was trying to get a shot of my new do. But something about the composition is cool.

Here are a couple of gifts given me by a college student and a high school student, respectively. The latter is pretty funny and interesting because, firstly, they consider me blond. Ha! Secondly, the cow and it's representating dulce de leche, or sweet of milk, a popular desert. Then there's maiz, or corn, and then algodón, or cotton, and then soja, or soy. Argentina exports a whole lot of genetically modified soy to Europe for animal feed.

Here's my students! This is not all of them, but it is all of those that came out last Saturday to practice their English for fun.

OK, the next blog entry will feature the upcoming trip to Brazil, so check back in a couple of weeks!

Días de la Memoria

--“¿Hola?”
--“Soy Stephen, de cuarto dos, cama siete.”
Name, room, and bed: that’s how one enters the Palermo House Hostel.
And now that we are on the same page about getting into the hostel, how did I come to be in Argentina, and how did Argentina get where it is?

I’m here because the Fulbright Commission awarded me an English Teaching Assistantship. Thanks is due U.S. Senator Fulbright, an Arkansas native, who initiated the Fulbright Program to facilitate peace through education. (A note for my college buddies: At the earliest, one applies in the early fall of their last year of college for a specific country and then if you are accepted, off you go with a hearty stipend and all your travel covered.)

I came here to travel more and approach confirmation of my suspicion that the whole world is without borders and that we can live as one. Oh, and grow and study for the LSAT. That’s the Law School Admissions Test, and it’s on December 5, just a couple of weeks after I return to Fayetteville/Danville, Arkansas. Ahh... Fayetteville/Danville...

Another reason to travel is the general fun of exploration. And another couple of reasons would be to come up for air and deny the automatic; traveling provides me time and space to check in and make sure that I’m moving intentionally, to verify that perpetual motion isn’t what propels me. Also, there's time to teach English and be a cultural ambassador (in fact, those activities constitute my job description), to play music with new Argentine friends, to Skype with old non-Argentine ones, and finally apply for law school and scholarships and other such things.

So that’s how I got here.

“How did Argentina get where it is?” By golly, though it may seem disjointed, the first thing that comes to mind is the US' lean toward facism under President George W. Bush. Though we did not have any U.S. citizens “disappeared” under President Bush as far as I know (though there was Jose Padilla, whom Bush declared an “enemy combatant” and so was jailed for years without a trial. Eek!), Argentina had plenty during what they call “La Dictadura.” The country went all the way to a fascist police state. Some who tried to steer the country another way were kidnapped, tortured and killed. Plenty of people including teenagers were among the 30,000+ “desaparecidos,” the disappeared, some of whom were flown over the ocean and tossed out of an airplane. (The Bush-era practice of extraordinary rendition comes to mind, but is admittedly dissimilar.)

Tuesday the 24th was quite a big day as far as remembering La Dictadura. In fact, it was “Día de la Memoria.” I visited the site of a massacre, and there met the governor of Chaco. That night, I met more great, socially conscious folks at a lecture/community art/concert event.

To continue meandering around the topic of Argentine history, here’s some less serious information, courtesy of my “LonelyPlanet: Argentina” tourist guidebook: The country “gave birth to the tango, Evita Perón, and Che Guevara… and the public bus, the coronary bypass and the ballpoint pen…”

Argentina’s history is similar to the US’ in that before the Europeans “discovered” it there were Indigenous folks living here. A genocide similar to the US’ ensued, and now there are not as many Native American folks. The newly Spanish territory was given the Latin name for silver, argentum. “But the mineral riches that the Spanish found in the Inca Empire of Peru never panned out in this misnamed land.” Take that, Colónizers. So then came typical colonizing: gather the Native folks into settlements, take their riches and read them the Bible (it was the Jesuits in Argentina).

Whew, you know what, I’ll stop there with history. Let’s get to me.

I arrived in Buenos Aires on Friday the 13th, and hung out in the capital for five days, practicing yoga, meeting other Fulbrighters, standing in line to get a visa, and eating at great restaurants. These Fulbrighters are really in a class of their own, without judgment, without hurry, and really, really well traveled (One of us has been to 26 countries! She’s 23!). They are new, intelligent, and kind friends. And at least two of them are talented with a Frisbee.

On Wednesday evening around 11 or midnight I flew into Resistencia, where I’ll be working for the next eight months. A conversation with a stranger and it turns out he’s an attorney and a friend of Emilio, the guy in charge of looking after me. Exiting baggage claim, I saw a man with a sign reading, “M. Coger.” It was Emilio!

On the ride home we had a blast talking about music and culture and joking about my name and how the driver didn’t have the guts to go in and hold the sign with my name himself. Ha! For those of you as yet unaware, “coger” means something fairly suggestive in Mexican and Argentine Spanish. It has quite a strong connotation. Let’s leave it at that.

Describing his life and himself, Emilio said “I have a ponytail, two cats, and no television.” He’s non-religious and well traveled in a place where that’s largely not the case. He has a vast CD collection and is interested especially in Jewish music; he identifies as culturally Jewish.

So to jump around a little bit...

Nearly everyday has a stranger of the day. On the 13th it was the psychiatrist (Nancy) I sat next to on the plane and with whom I shared a taxi. On the 14th, it was a student of Swami Satchiananda Maharaj from India, my yoga teacher’s teacher and one of my teachers. On the 15th it was a taxi cab driver who played for me a tape of his own recordings, and who was elated when I got my trumpet out and played along on the way to the hotel.

So that’s it for now, almost.

This is the website of the place I practiced Ashtanga Yoga on the 14th:
www.valletierra.com/

And the Stranger of the Day Award Winner of the same day runs this place: http://espaciothai.com/

On Tuesday, March 17, 2009, I made a video from an organic restaurant in Buenos Aires for my friend Rachel Moore who happens to be the most talented cook I know, and said video is online at http://www.youtube.com/user/smcoger
(If you’d like to be alerted every time I post a video, you can subscribe to my youtube thingamajig. I think.)

Whatever the case is regarding YouTube subscription, this is what I had for dinner that night:

pan integral con crema de zanahoria, limón, y ajo encima
wheat bread with a carrot, limon, garlic cream to put on top

curry fresco de seitán con verduras y bolitas de arroz motti a la crema de coco
fresh seitan (wheat gluten) curry with vegetables and motti rice balls topped with coconut cream – 35 pesos

flan de coco con dulce de leche
flan with coconut shreds and puddin’! (This was not the most yogic desert, but I don’t mind.)

And this is the website for Bio Restaurant: http://www.biorestaurant.com.ar/

Now it is Thursday, March 26, 2009, and I have practiced yoga, studied for the LSAT, and worked on Geshe Goes to Arkansas, which I’m writing about Geshe Dorjee, my Tibetan teacher. Who out there knows a publisher of children’s books? I’m nearly ready. And I am ready for dinner, sooo, jehl yong! (That’s “see you!” in Tibetan)

This is the touristy-in-the-day-rob-you-at-night part of Buenos Aires. We left before sunset.

In a capital city of 14 million people like unto Buenos Aires it must have been unlikely to meet a disciple of Gurudev on my first full day there. Indeed, it must have been unlikely that my hostel would be on the self-same street as the disciple.

It was a heavy ceremony, remembering the 20+ young people massacred when they spoke up for freedom. Afterwards though I got to meet the governor of Chaco, Jorge Milton Capitanich. That is Emilio on the left and Gov. Capitanich in the middle.

A sign outside the door of The Museum of Memory: "A clandestine center of detention and torture was run here from 1976 through 1980. Victims of Repression. March 24, 2005

Photos of some of those disappeared are on the walls at the now museum of memory.
Another desaparecida.

To keep things light, my friend Donna and I headed to the square and I posed next to this lovely tree, a Polvo Borracho in Spanish or samuhú in a local Indegnous language, the legend of which has something to do with the tree drinking too much wine.

Back to the site of the massacre, musicians and a stenciled image of Che Guevarra.

The statues represent the victims of "The Massacre at Margarita Belén."
It was a heavy day for Argentines; I wonder what this guy was thinking as he watched young artists commemorate Día de la Memoria in and along the street.

To end on a lighter note, here I am in the center of Buenos Aires on the 15th!

That's all for now, family and friends. Drop me a line if you like at smcoger@gmail.com