Vailima – Robert Louis Stevenson’s Samoan Home

Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds that you plant.

Robert Louis Stevenson

The Stevenson clan: Robert, his wife Fanny and her son Lloyd, and Robert’s widowed mother settled on the island of Upolu in Samoa in 1890. RLS had a house built at the foot of Mt Vaea, which he called Vailima, and he continued to write, but also became an advocate for the Samoans.

Vailima, a beautiful island plantation home has been restored and is now a world-class museum set in a national nature reserve and botanical garden. A tour in its coolness a welcome relief when I descended Mt Vaea via the Road of the Loving Hearts. In the house, there are many photographs of life at Vailima with the Stevenson Family.

The home and grounds have been restored to reflect the comfort expected in colonial times, but also the use of many Samoan building products. It is easy to imagine RLS writing here and filling the spacious rooms with many visitors.

The tasteful restoration as accurate as possible and the house repaired and reinvented as a museum by American benefactors who set up a foundation to raise money. Tilafaiga Rex Maughan, its primary benefactor, chairs the Foundation. Two board appointees represent the Government of Samoa. The Board oversees the fiscal, regulatory and policies of the not-for-profit entity.

The Vailima estate was purchased in 1900 as the official residence for the German governor. After British/Dominion confiscation, it served successively as the residence for the New Zealand administrator and the Samoan head of state after independence before being reclaimed as important national heritage.

It is a golden maxim to cultivate the garden for the nose, and the eyes will take care of themselves.

Robert Louis Stevenson

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The guides giving the tours of the house are extremely well-versed in all things RLS. As you walk through the Great Hall, RLS’s Library, his Smoking Room,  five bedrooms and numerous nooks and crannies they share anecdotes from the life of the famous author. They point out what is authentic and what is a reproduction.

The tour at $20 tala ($10 Aus) superb value. The highlight being the guide singing the Requiem from RLS tombstone – a spine-tingling moment. The Samoan’s have a reputation for memorable voices like the Welsh. Tips are not expected but considering how poor most Samoans are (an average wage of $150 tala per week) this would be the moment to be generous.

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RLS wanted fireplaces and a Smoking Room to remind him of Scotland. The fires were never lit!  Throughout the house, the darkness of the beautiful polished wood softened by large windows and French doors letting in the wealth of Samoan sunshine. The Great Hall restored with Californian redwood and replica furniture.The Tapa Room has the local wall covering called siapo or tapa from the original cultural pattern.

Tapa is a cloth made of vegetable fibre and stained in various striking patterns. Widely used by the Samoans for clothing, curtains, beds, and many other purposes, today any clothing from tapa is ceremonial or for the tourists.

Upstairs the bedrooms reflect the various personalities of the household. A photograph of RLS’s mother could be a slimmer Queen Victoria a la the dark dress and crocheted cap.  Mrs Stevenson senior didn’t cope with the heat, disliked the house and complained daily about its gloominess – even the view of a tranquil garden from her window couldn’t console her.

There are no foreign lands. It is the traveller only who is foreign.

Robert Louis Stevenson

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Fanny and RLS slept in separate rooms because he liked to write at night, but he had a secret door/hatch installed in the wall so they could talk to each other when lying in bed. RLS was often ill, and Fanny became his nurse as well as looking after everyone else in the household plus many of the local Samoans. The sick bed and medicine chest often used according to Fanny’s biographer:

A disease of the tropics, said to be transmitted by the bite of mosquitoes, which causes enormous enlargement of the parts affected. Mrs. Stevenson cured this boy, Mitaele, of elephantiasis by Dr. Funk’s remedy of rubbing the diseased vein with blue ointment and giving him a certain prescribed drug.

As I walked through the rooms and examined the photographs and paraphernalia, it was easy to imagine the scents and sounds of a busy household. The Stevenson’s hospitality matched the welcome and friendliness the Samoans are famous for so there would have been laughter, chatter and music.

Talk is by far the most accessible of pleasures. It costs nothing in money, it is all profit, it completes our education, founds and fosters our friendships, and can be enjoyed at any age and in almost any state of health.

Robert Louis Stevenson

One of the ways the RLS Museum and grounds are able to remain for posterity is by generous donations, entry fees and also hiring out the grounds for celebrations. It has become popular for weddings, but the stipulation is ‘no alcohol’, the wedding must be dry to minimise damage to the heritage property.

The day I visited, the final preparations were being added for a wedding that evening. One of the guides urged me to look inside the marquees and confided the wedding planner was famous in Samoa. Perhaps I’d seen the advertisement on television, ‘You know about Fa’afafine?’

I smiled away my ignorance as I went to have a look at the preparations that had taken two days and vowed to look up Fa’afafine later.

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Fa’afafine of Samoa are Samoa’s 3rd gender – the term  fa’a means ‘to be’ and fafine means ‘a woman’. Fa’afafine are not just cross-dressers nor are they males reared as females (a myth often believed by foreigners). Mostly they see themselves as female despite the gender markers, and they grow up choosing to identify with the female rather than the male gender.

Acceptance levels of fa’afafine are at an all time high with the Samoan Prime Minister patron of the Fa’afafine Association. However, some villages and districts treat fa’afafine differently although I didn’t see any evidence of this in my short time in Apia. In fact whenever fa’afafine were mentioned or seen around Apia everyone seemed proud.

Samoan culture treats and respects fa’afafine. Western culture through religious influences does not so the fa’afafine entrench themselves in their culture in order to be accepted into the community, with resounding and remarkable success.

My day at Vailima and Mt Vaea was a resounding success too – increasing my knowledge on so many aspects of Samoan history and modern day culture. I left the gorgeous surrounds to the tinkling laughter of the ‘celebrity’ wedding planner and helpers.

I reflected on Samoa, RLS and life in general and agreed

That man is a success who has lived well, laughed often and loved much.

Robert Louis Stevenson

Samoa – Paradise Found

We are all travellers in the wilderness of this world, and the best we can find in our travels is an honest friend.

Robert Louis Stevenson (13/11/1850- 3/12/1894)

I love this quote by Scottish author, Robert Louis Stevenson whose life and writings have inspired me since childhood. In fact, I became so fascinated that I determined to visit Samoa where he spent the last four years of his short life and pay my respects at his graveside.

The trip moved to the top of my ‘bucket list’ after being diagnosed with breast cancer in October 2010. Last week during the September holidays, I gifted myself a trip to Samoa to celebrate what I hope will be my fifth anniversary cancer free.

I’m a traveller, not a tourist. I enjoy learning about different cultures and places,  making an effort to befriend locals who reveal insights and knowledge about their homeland. A love of travel one of the many things husband John and I shared.

However, my obsession with Samoa goes back to a younger self, leafing through the ten volumes of Arthur Mees Children’s Encyclopaedia Dad purchased for the family.

In 1961, I dreamt of being like RLS:

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I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move.

The stories of  Stevenson’s final years in Samoa enthralling because he arrived at a significant period in the country’s history ( in the midst of a civil war) and yet established good relationships with the people. He was called Tusitala, the Teller of Tales. So revered by the Samoans that when he died, they carried him to his chosen resting place, to the top of 472m Mt Vaea. They created a trail significantly named “The Road of the Loving Heart”! 

comprehensive information English/Samoan comprehensive information

the tomb of RLS

After arriving at Apia’s Faleolo Airport at 4.20am and having to adjust to the well-known, constant heat and humidity, I chose to visit  RLS’ tomb on day two of my holiday.

I ordered a taxi for the 3km trip up to the Vailima National Reserve, and Tai arrived at 8.30am so I could climb before the heat of midday. At $10 tala, taxis are a cheap, reliable alternative to the often crowded local buses costing  $2.00 tala.

Mt Vaea is a volcano from Samoa’s origin 2 million years ago, but the crater rim has almost eroded away. The original lava rock is now rocky soil although many large rocks remain, especially near the summit. There are warnings of landslides after heavy rain. A slippery trail is not the only hazard: – jutting tree roots, steps made for giants and steep gradients are a few more! This trek is not for the faint-hearted or unfit.

notice at foot of mountain

There is a choice of trails – I chose the short, steep trail on the way up and the longer ‘more gentle grade’ (debatable) on the way down. The vertical climb to the beginning of both trails is 200m from the car park.

My daughters had bought me a ‘selfie stick’ so that I could take photographs as proof of reaching the tomb and for other outings in Samoa. Unfortunately, my mobile is too old and incompatible with the thoughtful present.

“You see Mum, I told you to upgrade your phone!” Anne and Mary Jane admonished me in unison.

My response, “Well, since your Dad died I’ve travelled a lot on my own and always found someone who’d take a photo of me!”

On top of Mt Vaea, I found half a rugby team – what I thought was a rugby team! The nine young men and one woman were police officers who had come off night duty and were doing a weekly exercise to stay fit. They puffed and panted past me, some struggling more than others, but I wasn’t that far behind, and they cheered when I arrived at the top – red-faced and gasping – but in one piece. They insisted on photos with me, totally amazed I was 62 and celebrating surviving BC.

The view was as magnificent as brochures promised and as described in The Life Of
Mrs. Robert Louis Stevenson:

“Nothing more picturesque can be imagined than the narrow plateau that forms the summit of Mount Vaea, a place no wider than a room and as flat as a table. On either side the land descends precipitately; in front lie the vast ocean and the surf-swept reefs; in the distance to the right and left green mountains rise, densely covered with the primeval forest.”

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“Stevenson’s tomb, with the tablet and lettering, was designed by Gelett Burgess, and was built by native workmen under the direction of a half-caste named George Stowers. The material was cement, run into boxes and formed into large blocks, which were then carried to the summit on the strong shoulders of Samoans, though each block was so heavy that two white men could scarcely lift it from the ground. Arrived at the summit the blocks were then welded into a plain and dignified design, with two large bronze tablets let in on either side. One bears the inscription in Samoan, “The resting-place of Tusitala,” followed by the quotation in the same language of “Thy country shall be my country and thy God my God.” The other side bears the name and dates and the requiem:

Under the wide and starry sky,
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.

This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he longed to be;
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.

The requiem

Fanny died in America, but her daughter returned her ashes to Samoa:

“When Fanny’s daughter and husband, Mr. and Mrs. Field arrived in Samoa they brought with them a tablet which they carried to the summit of Mount Vaea and had cemented in one end of the base of the tomb. It is of heavy bronze, and bears the name Aolele (Samoan for Fanny), together with these lines:

Teacher, tender comrade, wife,
A fellow-farer true through life,
Heart whole and soul free,
The August Father gave to me.”

“On the tablet for Mr. Stevenson the thistle for Scotland had been carved at one corner and the hibiscus for Samoa at the other. On his wife’s the hibiscus was placed at one corner, and after long hesitation about the other, a sudden inspiration suggested to Mrs. Field the tiger-lily—bright flower whose name had been given to little Fanny Van de Grift by her mother in the old days in Indiana.”

Tiger-lily and Scottish Thistle nestled together under tropical skies enjoying starry nights as of old, far away from their birthplaces. There is  no waving yellow corn or purple heather clad moorlands, but people from all over the world pilgrimage to Samoa and climb Mt Vaea to pay their respects and tenderly pray or leave flowers on their tomb.

Samoan Journey
Haiku by Mairi Neil

A much loved writer
Robert Louis Stevenson
The teller of tales

Inspired childhood dream
To follow loving heart trail
No longer strangers

I traversed The Road of the Loving Heart breathing in the sweet scents of rainforest trees and flowers. I listened to delightful calls from various birds, especially the easily recognised tiny scarlet robin (tolau ula) and Samoan fantail (se’u). I thought of RLS and envied the writing inspiration he must have experienced in such a delightful environment. Imagination fired I realised; I could be the last person on earth – other walkers a rare sight. The serenity disturbed by black and green geckos (miniature dinosaurs!) darting around my feet, abandoning where they basked in sunlight atop rocks or protruding tree roots. Their frantic escape into dry leaf litter sounding more like a possum or fox and disconcerting as I concentrated on not losing my foothold.

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It is not so much for its beauty that the forest makes a claim upon men’s hearts, as for that subtle something, that quality of air that emanation from old trees, that so wonderfully changes and renews a weary spirit.

Robert Louis Stevenson

The climb certainly renewed my weary spirit and the sense of achievement satisfying. Despite the heat, sore muscles and sweat-soaked clothes I had a smile on my face as wide as the Mississippi!

I’ll share further adventures of my week in paradise in other posts and leave the last word to RLS:

Books are good enough in their own way, but they are a poor substitute for life.

Who has Earned a Clerihew – You?

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http://www.fridaymash.com/regions/australian-political-satire

Yesterday, instead of writing this blog I became absorbed watching the Australian Prime Ministership change – political junkie that I am!  Although I offer no apology because the politicians who are in power affect us all.

What writer doesn’t like drama even if this one was inevitable – Abbott and Turnbull have battled before. The Australian public knew spite, ego and ambition would all lead to the same inevitable result! As witty and jaded commentators observe “same shit just different shovel’.

However, the way the media hyperventilated and protracted the drama built the tension and kept us hooked, even if clichés and hyperbole abounded. No doubt it will all be replayed ad nauseam so budding journalists can deconstruct and choose the best coverage and pick out the gems – and there are always gems amongst the dross.

Wordsmiths can be inspired and write clerihews to immortalise the leading protagonists and antagonists and their supporters. I discovered this form of terse verse several years ago when I had poetry published in Yellow Moon magazine.

A clerihew is ‘a humorous pseudo-biographical quatrain, rhymed as two couplets, with lines of uneven length more or less in the rhythm of prose. The name of the subject who is well-known is usually at the end of the first line (sometimes the second line).

The humour of the clerihew is whimsical and absurd rather than satiric or abusive, but they target famous individuals or ones in the public eye. Politicians, as well as celebrities, are obviously fair game. You don’t have to limit your clerihews to real people. Write about characters from books, musicians, movie stars, comic and cartoon creations.

Clerihews are short, easy to write and can be about any person or character, real or not – even about animals. Remember to put the subject’s name at the end of the first line and rhyme it at the end of the second line. Then write two more rhyming lines to make it funny, absurd and memorable!

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Edmund Clerihew Bentley invented the form in school, the rhyme scheme AABB, often forced and irregular. A couple of his best-known being:

Sir Christopher Wren
Said, “I am going to dine with some men.
If anyone calls
Say I am designing St. Paul’s.

Sir Humphrey Davy
Abominated gravy.
He lived in the odium
Of having discovered sodium.

 (This one about his chemistry teacher>)

According to a letter in the Spectator in the 1960s, Bentley said that a true clerihew has to have the name “at the end of the first line”. The whole point being the skill in rhyming awkward names.

I tried to write a couple of poems about the squabbling pair last night but found it difficult to be whimsical. (It was a long night too and I’m not sure the couple of ciders I drank helped or hindered creativity.)

Unfortunately, when I think of national politics and how it is referred to as “the Canberra Games” whimsy is not the first word that springs to mind!

Our PM likes to be called Tony
This casualness quite phoney
His equality claims
Produced knights and dames!

Malcolm Turnbull no fool
Knows women drool
Prime Ministerial ambition ditched
But now mission accomplished

PM Tony Abbott
Made lying a habit
Loved riding his bike
His party’s now said, ‘take a hike’

Prime Minister Abbott
Made Captain Picks a habit
Loved photo opps wearing a bomber jacket
Tony’s found ‘shit happens’ now he’s sacket

Egotistical Malcolm Turnbull
Knows ‘the old school tie’ rule
Promising power to Julie Bishop
He found her an easy pick up

Poor Tony Abbott
Now stewed like a rabbit
Friendship with Bronwyn Bishop
A helicopter flight a grounding mishap

Foreign Minister Julie Bishop
Always looks quite a dish up
Overseas trips her desire
Setting ambassadors’ hearts on fire

Let’s hope Bishops and Abbotts
Don’t breed like rabbits
Malcolm’s skin is steel wool
And his promises not bull….

Perhaps I’ll stick to Hollywood characters after all Australian politics often seem a B-grade movie. This was an oldie:

Hollywood is Mel Gibson’s home
Where many Aussies roam
Mad Max and Braveheart Mel’s winning streak
Pity his true character is so bleak

The Oxford Complete Wordfinder describes a clerihew as a short comic or nonsensical verse, usually in two rhyming couplets with lines of unequal length and referring to a famous person…

I’ll just keep trying and look at it as another form of poetry that allows me to indulge what I love most – playing with words. Like Limericks and Haiku inspiration is all around and with a pen and paper it certainly fills in time spent travelling on public transport or sitting in waiting rooms.

There is 24hour media coverage all over the globe and we live in a time of celebrity culture – perhaps the clerihew will make a comeback in popularity!

Please Wake me up When September Ends

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I know it’s Father’s Day today, but my lovely daughters bought me flowers and took me out to lunch at Abbey Road, St Kilda where a background of songs from the 60s and 70s and a delicious roast dinner with ‘Yorkshire Pud’ (their father’s favourite) reminded us of the happy times when John was alive.

As my youngest daughter MJ said this morning, “September is a crap month – it starts off with Father’s day and ends (21st) with the anniversary of Dad’s death.” I’m sure many people who have lost ones they love, for whatever reason, feel the same. There’s even a song to encapsulate how we feel:

Wake me up When September Ends
Summer has come and passed, the innocent can never last
Wake me up when September ends
Like my father’s come to pass, seven years has gone so fast
Wake me up when September ends
Here comes the rain again, falling from the stars
Drenched in my pain again, becoming who we are
As my memory rests, but never forgets what I lost
Wake me up when September ends

Summer has come and passed, the innocent can never last
Wake me up when September ends
Ring out the bells again
Like we did when Spring began
Wake me up when September ends

Summer has come and passed, the innocent can never last
Wake me up when September ends
Like my father’s come to pass, twenty years has gone so fast
Wake me up when September ends
Wake me up when September ends
Wake me up when September ends

Green Day

Of course in this hemisphere, September is the month of Spring and Summer is still ahead, but the Neil household relates to this song.  Waking up to sunshine and evidence of new birth as  flowers in the garden begin to bloom may help lighten the mood, but the gloom of despair still lurks.

I try to be buoyant and focus on Nature’s beauty: inhale the sweetness of the roses and geraniums, the camellias beginning to bud, the rosemary and lavender blooming. I know we are fortunate to have a nice home and garden and to have each other.

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And this past week,  the media has been filled with horrific pictures and stories. My grief has paled beside the enormity of what refugees face. It is hard to go about normal business never mind be happy when you know there are so many desperate people fleeing tragedy.

The scenes in Europe tragic, but also inspirational. People have lost loved ones, their homes and their jobs, but thank goodness they still have their spirit and a desire to survive and start afresh.

The worst and the best of humanity on display. Well done to Angela Merkel of Germany for showing leadership and humanity  and shame on the heartless people who turn their backs and the fascist demonstrators  who abuse the desperate people on their journey to a better life.

I only hope the shift in attitude from some of Australia’s political leaders will mean the end of official policies here of mandatory offshore detention and denying citizenship to people seeking asylum if they arrive by boat. Despite the political spin being mouthed by Government, our record on this issue is appalling. The hypocrisy being shown is astounding.

If the current crop of politicians believe what they are saying we have thousands in detention on Christmas, Manus and Nauru Islands that would benefit from compassion and release into the community.

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I’ve written poems and stories about asylum seekers and refugees over the years. One of the ways I cope with what seems insurmountable odds and inexplicable human behaviour.  ‘Man’s inhumanity to man’  first documented by poet Rabbie Burn’s  in ‘Man was made to mourn…’ As writers often all we have is our words to save us from going insane.

International Odyssey
Mairi Neil

The trees cling to fragile foliage
like mothers reluctant to let
their children go.
The winter sun radiates
white light promising a day
of autumn glory…
It is Melbourne after all.

A blue sky pockmarked by fluffy clouds
reflecting a sea of shimmering blue
But beyond the benign bay
tragedy intrudes
fear and desperation meets
fear and distrust.

No need of Siren’s song
to lure the mariners to their death.
The monster from the deep is
dressed in political spin and
ideological hubris.
Christian charity in short supply.
To seek asylum deemed illegal

It is Australia after all.

At 30th June there were 945 men in detention on Nauru. 41 have been granted refugee status, but it is too dangerous to go anywhere else in PNG and they’ve been put in a transit camp waiting for freedom. On Nauru there are 88 children, 114 women and 453 men. All there more than 2 years.

Recently, on the ABC  7.30 Report they interviewed a doctor speaking about the dreadful abuse of children offshore. He had tears in his eyes describing the number of children with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and meeting a six year old girl who tried to kill herself!

As a nation we must seriously ponder our humanity – what brings a child of 6 to a decision life is no longer worth living?

Australia takes 109,000 net migration including those coming for business or family reasons. There is 60 million displaced people in the world – the greatest humanitarian crisis on record. About 59 million of those just want to return home and be safe.

Flotsam And Jetsam
Mairi Neil

In Australia politicians choose
Who we bring home
And who we turn back

A procession of hearses
Carry innocent victims
Of a plane explosion.
Collateral damage of war
Becomes a television spectacle.
Families plead for privacy
Pain and grief is not a story.

In Australia politicians choose
Who we bring home
And who we turn back

International Refugee Conventions
Ignored and challenged.
A boat-load of asylum seekers
Floating in crowded detention.
Collateral damage of xenophobia
Government silence deafening
Pain and grief is not a story.

In Australia politicians choose
Who we bring home
And who we turn back

The death toll in Gaza grows
Lives ruled by the noise of sirens
Rockets decide who dies
But humans take aim.
David and Goliath a myth.
Palestinian pain and grief
A never-ending story.

When a child asks ‘why?’
The truth garbled white noise…
Whatever gods we choose
To worship and obey
Are not to blame
For human shame.

In Lebanon 260 per 1000 of population are refugees living on their border. Even if we increased our intake to 50,000 it would be only 2.4 per thousand of Australia’s population. It is time all of us who call ourselves writers put pen to paper to give desperate people a voice. If enough people send emails or letters to those in power who can make decisions and demand a stop to abuse in our name, there will be change.

Seeking asylum is not illegal and fleeing from war, poverty and persecution is perfectly natural.

Operation Sovereign Borders
Mairi Neil
(a found poem from Refugee Week leaflets)

Refugees and asylum seekers
wanting safety
protection
a new life
cross stormy waters
with courage
seeking justice
and a welcome
from Australian society.
Young and old
with amazing personal stories
of darkness, bribery, corruption
challenges faced
uprisings survived
prisoners of conscience
student leaders
from Afghanistan and Burma
seeking resettlement
and freedom
seeking to celebrate and contribute.
Their hopes crushed
basic human rights violated
harsh lessons in cruelty
as the innocent
are locked up.
In limbo
on Nauru and Manus Islands
detention not freedom
Why?
We can do better
Stand up, Speak up
refugees and asylum Seekers
Welcome here!

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Doublespeak – Anywhere and Everywhere – A Review.

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On Thursday night, I attended Doublespeak, an event of the Anywhere Festival in Frankston by The Dig Collective who will be performing each night until September 6th. at 7pm.

This experimental physical performance about wordplay, the power of words, their use and misuse, their relevance and irrelevance, the rewriting of history, propaganda and the power of silence.

It keeps you engaged and cemented to your seat – just as well they provide soft cushions as an added extra because the wonder and excitement of the Anywhere Festival is most performances can be performed everywhere (with a little adaptation). This festival, I’ve been in a barber shop and a yoga school!

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The audience meets at Fresh Start Organic Cafe (scroll down their page to see a newspaper review of Doublespeak) before being escorted to a secret location (an ‘abandoned’ shop a short walk away). Warmly welcomed by Alex and Tim we were invited to partake in a glass of wine or water.

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Alex Talamo and Tim Sneddon

The warm welcome figuratively and literally an important aspect of this festival because Melbourne’s winter has been long and the nights cold, which may account for low audience numbers. Also the two-actor performance begins ‘on the beach’, the antics of the actors making me smile as I sat defrosting!

doublespeak (noun) deliberately euphemistic, ambiguous, or obscure language.
“the art of political doublespeak”

Or as the well-known fount of all knowledge Wikipedia suggests:

Doublespeak is language that deliberately disguises, distorts, or reverses the meaning of words. Doublespeak may take the form of euphemisms (e.g., “downsizing” for layoffs, “servicing the target” for bombing), in which case it is primarily meant to make the truth sound more palatable. It may also refer to intentional ambiguity in language or to actual inversions of meaning (for example, naming a state of war “peace”).

In such cases, doublespeak disguises the nature of the truth. Doublespeak is most closely associated with political language…

The Dig Collective living up to their reputation as experimental and innovative, present an entertaining show – tightly scripted and acted. ‘Scene’ changes smooth and intriguing; minimum fuss with ingenious and simple props. The speech patterns and movement deliberate but fluid, especially when Dana uses mime. Both Michael and Dana comfortable with each other and the performance space, their timing excellent and ensures the audience keeps up with some segments that move very quickly indeed.

Doublespeak is currently in development to be presented as a full-length performance for the 2015 Melbourne Fringe. The Collective advises:

To speak and not to speak about anything at all is nothing out of the ordinary, especially for a politician…

Working from case studies about people who have attempted difficult conversations at great self-risk, the project draws on the work of Sophie Calle’s Exquisite Pain to explore the form of personal mythology and unspoken cultural practices.

To speak of the unspeakable is a political act – and a dangerous one in the current national climate.

Michael Fee and Dana McMillan
Michael Fee and Dana McMillan

They have been conversing with people in the street during the day and asking for reflections on the question “When have you most felt Australia was an island?” Responses are incorporated in the act and updated to reflect the local conversations.

The welcome scene to get you in the mood for the performance!
The welcome scene to get you in the mood for the performance!

Sound is an important part of the performance and Tim does a magnificent job with this.  To regularly incorporate responses into the show ensures the experimental work remains organic and keeps everyone on their toes. Anyone who’d like to respond is requested to do so. A voicemail to record  reflections has been set up and if you would like to leave your own, please call 0451 051 681.

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Audiences to Doublespeak don’t suffer, but there is a challenge to consider how you use your voice, how you perceive what others say, do you listen but not hear, and do you confront our political leaders and the media when they use weasel words or disseminate misinformation? What about the verbal abuse some of our sports representatives are now famous for? How do you speak to your friends and family? How do government representatives speak to citizens? What do you think of the language of official forms?

orwell on political lies The mood of the play relies heavily on the background sound – the news report when a US Airways passenger plane safely crash landed in the Hudson River six years ago. The intermittent beeps, a bit like a heart monitor, the media ‘pulse’, voices sometimes clear, other times indistinct. Meanwhile, a large blade representing the plane turns in the background throughout the evening, slowly, almost silently, .

As a background prop the turning blade creatively simple and effective
As a background prop the turning blade creatively simple and effective

There have been more recent plane crashes with tragic outcomes reported in sensational ways, but can anyone say what the ‘truth’ is? Dana recalls being an eight-year-old and her father bringing the family together to try and explain 9/11.

How do our leaders explain and use the narratives of public/global tragedies, and crises? What words do the media use? Why do some feel migrant, refugee, asylum seeker and illegal immigrant are interchangeable?

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The performers prompt other challenging conversations we need to have or at least consider. What happened in Australia to enable Tony Abbott, a prime example of a politician well-versed in  doublespeak, to become our Prime Minister? The irony of Bronwyn Bishop’s sojourn as Speaker.

The Anywhere Festival allows you to chat with the performers and producers directly. The Doublespeak cast appreciate you are more than a number on a ticket. Give them a call   – do you feel isolated or are you glad Australia is an island? Have you ever given a thought to the first peoples? Are you a migrant? A refugee? A tourist? What do you know of Australia’s history?

Those who  stay home during this festival miss events guaranteed to give enough food for thought to have real and meaningful conversations with family or friends, around the dinner table, at the pub or in a cafe.

Book for Doublespeak: September 6 @ 7.00pm I guarantee you’ll value words and their meaning, perhaps even think before you speak!

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