E stima L reflectors:
Tomorrow is the international day of poetry. UNESCO, an organization responsible for instituting the celebration, this year devoted to poetry violence. How can poetry, one of the highest forms of aesthetic expression, to combat violence? Really, can a poem (if not a song) to change the world? Who cares?
to me. The writers here are presented every week. To my mother, but martial arts expert slipper, is relatively peaceful and loves the great lyrics. To you who read the paper. and not kick me when I enter on the street. Non-violence is a rational act, rather than in good faith. This is the supremacy of intellect over emotion. To discuss this, we are joined Carlos Fong. Panamanian winning essayist and tireless promoter of reading, tonight we will talk about their life experiences and views, accompanied by delicious wine and poetry used to taste.
Welcome to the sheet.
Narrator and essayist Panama. Born in Panama City in 1967. Vielka Victoria is married and has two sons, Isaac and Ezekiel, who help him endure in life. Founding member of the Youth Movement "Advanced Cultural based in La Chorrera and the collective of writers" Threshold. " He is a member of the Society of Writers of Panama (ASEP). In 1993 he won first place in the Short Story Competition organized by the English International Cooperation Agency and the Municipality of La Chorrera, and in 1995 won the Third Place in Essay Contest Award "Frankfort" by the German Embassy in Panama in 1997 and Honorable Mention in the National Short Story Prize "José Maria Sanchez, "Technological University of Panama. In 2001 he again won an Honorable Mention in the same story contest and the Prize Competition Single Story Dario Herrera of the University of Panama. 2002. In 2005 won the Prix Free Trial of Fire. First Prize Short Story "Nacho Valdés" in the XXIV National Art Competition and female workers. 2004, National Short Story Prize "José María Sánchez" Technological University of Panama. She won three times test the Single Award, short story and poetry as part of the Celebration of the Week Rodrigo Miró Panamanian Literature Faculty of Humanities, University of Panama. Short Short Story Award Maga in 2006. He has given stories and poetry recitals and lectures, workshops and educational lectures. He has published several articles in the newspaper La Prensa and literature texts in magazines Threshold, Lottery and Maga, as well as in the book try to utopia (INAC, 1992), smoke and ash ('s literary anthology U.S. invasion of Panama, 1993) and Anthology of humor Panamanian Ángel Revilla (USMA, 1995). Appears in the anthology to the morning sun: 50 Storytellers Panamanians born from 1949 to Enrique Jaramillo Levi (Signs Cultural Foundation, 1998) Dream Sharing (Compilation Panamanian historical storytellers: 1892-2004) by Enrique Jaramillo Levi and When I talked with them Leadimiro González. Member of the teaching staff of the Project The grandfather of my grandmother. Currently working as an assistant and Promoter Reading in the Department of Arts, National Institute of Culture. Has two books of short stories, From the Other Side (2003) and Fragments of a Shipwreck (2005). And a book of literary studies: To tell the identity. Panamanian literature studies and a proposal for cultural development (2006).
STORY
REQUIEM FOR Ballenato
Throughout his adolescence Face Bebi worked shining shoes of hundreds of chorreranos . Today is a barber and has his own business near the park on 3 November. Occasionally, if anyone remembers, tells the joke that made him Ballenato with a mixture of satisfaction and nostalgia. By then, he had his shoeshine chair at the entrance of the former More for Less, in front of La Estrella, where they say that once took refuge Victoriano Lorenzo conservatives.
Ballenato, the village idiot who ever imagined driving a car, arrived that evening and parked his car in front of the commissary imaginary. Whale was quite a character. There were days that led to huge dams and guard traffic to Ballenato not hit, I had to go along and help push his car, which had broken down in the street to park on the side of the road.
That morning, as usual, came Ballenato with all his gestures of conductor: turning the wheel, getting cautious changes, casting reverse until he managed to park his car next to the chair Bebi Face, was when he got the joke. Returning
Ballenato and was preparing to open the car door, Bebi Face told him what car he would drive if it had been stolen in their absence. Ballenato's wrath was so great that almost destroyed the shoeshine chairs because they stopped them from taking the car. The next day, Ballenato driving and again returned to park. Bebi face asked him if he had recovered the car. Whale said no, but now it was not going to leave the key.
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SPIRIT Sacrilege
"Now I'm flying across the boundaries of the enigma
a gust of wind I
unavoidable light my fire I'm a blast
aurora
severing the face of the night
I breath in the breath breathe ethereal
him and I am his likeness. " Rivera Pérez
Vianor
Iguaniginape Kungiler
sacrilegious spirit Nuchu of
For some time I've watched it. He was followed closely to where she moved. I peered silently as he sat at the table. I was accompanied, as always, to eat, then moved and I followed the steps. He paused for a while under the hammock. I waited patiently for a long time and I saw the same: as a living being. I've seen many times playing naked. Run naked through the yard and climb trees, climb to the table, swinging in the hammock, climb the walls of the house, pull out the window. One day I surprised him at a meeting with others of their peers. One is prepared to assist in fishing, another to go hunting; another to remove a fish bone and another on his way to care for sleep, another to drive away the fear and another to guard the village from a disaster, another to protect children from the dangers, and another to build a house, another available for a party and dance the dance, one for the song, another to go and talk to the lady of the time, and another held the secret more ... now, I've entered it, I know the secret, but I'm not man ... now I have his likeness.
could say it all started when my mother invited him to breakfast one day to accompany me. I really felt like a toy, but then I felt his presence. I was barely a child and felt her magical presence. It was the first time I saw him alive, radiant and strong. It seemed a little gentleman. A little man with power over things, above all to heal. Every time I called my mother got sick and immediately appeared with his face painted with achiote and wrapped in a cloud of smoke. I could see him take hold when inhaling the smoke from the seeds of cacao. Then the evil spirits were repressed and fever or threat of pain disappeared. Since then I started to chase, so look out below the hammock and continued to observe their movements until one day I discovered. I think I always knew he was. He always intelligent, always strong, always arrogant and pompous, self-possessed, smarmy and arrogant. One day I was punished because I said I had been making love. My father told me it was a sacrilege. The punishment was not going for a week the sea. My father knew how much I liked being at sea. See fishermen returning from their task, swim and dive in the salt waters of the magnificent Tues Explore the coral where he sometimes entertains zanganea and the shoals of colorful fish. I've seen it many times to hide on the rump of the whales taken from the tails of dolphins. Then I began to mourn locked in the house and fell asleep. That same day I dreamed
with him. In the dream appeared nahual, jaguar and art ego. When I woke up I told the dream to the elders and they said they had dreamed of spirits and my father once lifted the punishment. A few days later something unexpected happened: back to have another dream about him. This time I said his name: Ologanagunkinele. I tried, unsuccessfully, to mumble a few words, but could not. It seemed an amazing thing he told me his name. He said that the awakening was running with the elderly to have my dream and said his name. It was the first thing I did upon waking. Elders were astonished at this again and told me that this spirit was Ologanagunkiler, a great ancestor nele that brought the clay brazier used Nerger, cocoa beans, the snuff of the ceremonies and the gammdurgan flute. That spirit was the secret of the light of the eight children who moved up their golden ship from all angles of Mother Earth, fighting and struggling with fierce monsters. The eight brothers were prepared for war, were armed with bows and arrows and the elements of combat. The ship sailed eight land back, slowly and solemnly, shaking all angles, the ship rose and roared and did not stop, as it stood was spreading across the land light. But legions of evil spirits prevented the entry of the sun and the eight siblings were prepared to cope with evil. The eight brothers beat, burned and melted their enemies. Meanwhile, the ship stood, shook like a whirlwind life while rejoiced and blossomed with the success of the eight siblings.
then returned home and found him under the hammock, seemed asleep. I invited him to dinner. After lunch I took a shower with basil and painted from annatto. Weeks later I began to feel severe headache and he continued to appear in my dreams, but consoled me telling me not to be afraid. One day my mother put on the table and did the inevitable: I took it and ran to the sea and threw it away. So I started to notice my transformation. My mother looked so frightened and began to beg forgiveness, because it was not my intention to provoke. I told my mother not want it, I do not need it ... I am now.
In the village there is a great joy: a child will be born. Teenagers have been cut platanillos sheets. The building has been covered with white sheets. La Jagua is ready to paint the body of the pregnant woman. But something is wrong and will invoke the spirit Innatuledi necessary, because the creature is in the wrong position. Some bad spirits were responsible for placing well. That's when I make my speech. I entered the girl's uterus and there a battle without rest, called upon the Bab Dummat and he could answer. I inhaled the smoke of cocoa beans and strengthened me with the singing of Mu-Igala. Finally, at dawn, was born a beautiful girl. And again I put my mother under the hammock and stroking her face drenched in achiote heard when I said tenderly, was a great job, my son.
As I said before, when he was human: there is a spirit of Nuchu sacrilegious. I saw a day of love and punished me for that. Now I from this place, from time to time I go to jump across the table, jump through the trees, running naked on the beach and play with my brothers to the round. And every time we need to let every one to his duty. Although I prefer, I say with sincerity, bathe with basil and make love with the bright moon and in front of this wonderful sea. Because now I'm flying across the boundaries of the puzzle, I'm a gust of wind, unavoidable fire of my light, I am a burst of aurora, cutting the face of the night, I'm a breath in the breath ethereal breath, I'm him and I am your ... I like the spirit of Nuchu sacrilegious.
the book: Fragments of a shipwreck, winner of the National José María Sánchez 2004 story.
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POETRY AND EDUCATION: AS
POETRY
prodigy Carlos Fong
For
How can poetry help train the students in our time? Do you have something to tell the poets in the context of globalization and concentration of capital? Can a poem to help in education to have a more general world? Or simply: Does it help poetry? Under the World Poetry day, celebrated on March 21, would like to make some brief reflections on the theme of education and how poetry can help the quality of teaching.
I think I can help with an idea that William Ospina has left several of his essays on poetry: "There is a kind of excellent poetry that shows the most prodigious as natural facts, but the best poetry is that which shows us things more natural and made prodigious "This thought is very consistent with the view of the poet Ama Ata Aidoo of Ghana, for whom quality of a poem and its meaning provide information not only about the beauty of other internal and external worlds that the reader is not conscious, but poetry can help them become better human beings. How can this happen? Originally
think of poetry as an act of art that serves to express, through written language, things very nicely. But a poem is more than that. Unlike other arts, poetry explores the essence of culture. Poetic language can make a synthesis of reality deeper into any of the elements that comprise the reality and they are usually very complex. A poem of excellent quality can, in simple language, help young people to have some interest or personal concern for universal or national issues, to make them more sensitive to problems that may affect them directly or indirectly: war, environment, urban violence, etc.
The intensity of a poem may draw the attention of participation and cooperation on social issues that affect people. The sense of belonging, participation and cooperation are values \u200b\u200bthat have been degraded and that poetry can help build. This does not mean that poetry might serve to bring emotions and sense of beauty: poetry is all that and more. Poetry has the power to understand the world beyond everyday reality and to perceive the relationship of the creative word with reality. This part can get any technocrat commercial spirit and say, and this for what it does. Let's see.
If young people have a general idea of \u200b\u200bexistence and a more complex view of culture is very likely to learn to think and participate in the world's problems. Consider the meaning of life, for example. The theme of loneliness or isolation, is in many poems. When a boy is conscious of his solitude and discovers that he can participate in a world inhabited by others, it is easier for their emotions throb looking for chances of survival, they tend to destruction.
There are many things that gives us the poetry. One of these has to do with his ability and sound fun. There are hundreds of poems in which reality is recreated to make it more enthusiastic (Whitman and Rimbaud, for example). But go to the patio, what is ours: there is a poem where Consuelo Tomás tells a story of a ghost in a bowl of soup. And what about the rhythmic sound of the work of Rogelio Sinan or philosophical depth of Ros-Zaneta. And that Hector Collado verse that says all the hate in the world fits in a bullet. Each word is a work of art, said Borges. A teacher could use this verse Collado to play with words and content: a bullet is rather small and the world is big. Small words and big words that seek to tell us something about reality. I'm not sure if the poets were looking for this effect when they wrote their poems, but it is something that we can claim to play with poetry, its sound and its possibilities.
Graciela Montes says in that beautiful book entitled La Frontera indomitable, "On the construction and defense of the poetic space that words sometimes we come packaged (remember the speeches of public officials, for example), but there are also words soft, comfortable, safe, ritual words, inappropriate words and words and amazing light. This universe of words can help young people manage not only a glossary to help them in language proficiency, it is very important in these times, but to learn to do violence to reality by naming it. All things are there waiting to be appointed for the first time, just need to make room for the word.
Visit the blog of author
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LITERARY EVENTS
"TUESDAY TODAY", March 20, 6:00 pm: Tribute to Roberto Luzcando. Manuel E. Gallery Amador, University of Panama.
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Wednesday, March 21, all day: All the World Poetry Day, recitals and activities endistintos parts of the city of Panama. At 6:00 PM, actode closing at the National Library organized by INAC.
* Wednesday, March 21, 7:00 PM. The great celebration is ... from the center of Panama's most bohemian neighborhood. Discussion and recital "The Art of Poetry" , by Enrique Jaramillo Levi, Edilberto González Trejos, Gorka Lasa, Javier Romero Hernández and open participation Disable ALL writers and the general public. Teatro La Quadra.
* Tuesday, March 27, 7:00 PM: Presentation at the Gallery Manuel E. Amador's 14th storybook Enrique Jaramillo Levi, "fishy."
* Monday, April 2, 7:00 PM: The Literary Café traditional first Monday in Exedra, "Three times, four poets and a singer" by the poetasJosé Cordova, Edgar Pinzon Javier Romero and David Robinson, and elcantor Carlos Matias.
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