Learning Though Encounters!

 (written for "Crossing Over" 2006)

     As we know, the word   “encounter” is associated with the word “meeting”. Thus, it is inevitably connected with the idea of being an active process. This definition made me reflect upon the nature of our project called Encounters .Considering the fact that the telling of our encounter stories was free of any previous attempt to create a written record it seems to me that the purpose of this project is the innate nature of the word “encounter” itself.

     “….your story seems not to vary much from my own but I guess the difference lies in the way of telling the story as much as it is connected with your own perception of the actual encounter,” said the fourth Traveler. “Let me reveal my story of my encounter to all of you…” she continued. “My first indirect contact with the First Nations occurred in the Vancouver Airport. Still in the airplane, I fancied different images of the country, the city, the people, Canadians… Who are those people? I remembered a picture in my travel guide depicting Native people in a canoe. Were they the Canadians I was imagining?” 

 

                                                                                Haida Gwaii by Bill Reid  

                         

 “Can you answer this question now?” asked the first Traveler.

“I still don’t know, the question of identity vanishes behind the veil of multiculturalism. But let me proceed with my story. Having my images in my mind I was keen to see an Aboriginal in the crowd at the Airport. So, gazing through the masses, suddenly, I captured a glimpse of an object. It was big and dominant, standing in the middle of the hall in its solemnity. It seemed to me so detached from its origin which was hidden to me. The tag said: Spirit of Haida Gwaii by Bill Reid, a monument depicting human and different animals in a canoe. I was looking at this sculpture and felt isolated. I could not connect it with any other form of art that I was aware of. What is the story behind this figure? And moreover, the longer I looked at it the more a feeling of sadness overcame me. Its greatness and beauty implied that I was experiencing a remnant of a culture that is not alive or is diminished to a degree that huge monuments are necessary to remind the society of its existence.”

“I am afraid your observations at the Airport are very close to reality,” interrupted the third Traveler. “But please, don’t mind my pessimism, continue with your story.”

“Months went by and I adjusted myself to the new environment I came to learn more about. One day, my friends invited me on a journey to Tofino. The road to the village was stunning and marvelous so that I immersed myself in the beauty of the nature. It was imminent and gigantic; the majestic and solemn mountains lead us to the beauty and glory of its heart. On our way, I thought: the people living in Tofino must be living in Paradise.”

“There live many First Nation people,” said the second Traveler.

                                                                                    Tofino, April 2005                                  

     “Sad images, within the tranquility of the nature there live people that seemed to me were desperate and some of them spend the most time of their day with drinking. What happened to them? I asked myself…. The next day we rented a Zodiac to explore the islands near Tofino. I was happy to learn that our guide was an Aboriginal.  After he showed us the beauties of the islands, he pointed to a spot in the distance and said; “there, do you see that village? It is my village, my whole family lives there.” Hearing him say this I imagined how he came home every day after work and how his children and his family was greeting him. He must be a happy man, I thought. Living in peace, being connected to nature and enjoying the presence and the love of the family and friends seemed to me to be the only right way to live. But somehow, that sadness overcomes me again while I was looking at the village. Amidst the beauty of the nature this village and the people seemed to me so isolated. I recalled how isolated I felt myself while standing in front of the sculpture by Bill Reid at the Airport and now, how detached from the buzz of the world seemed their life and culture to be. But it must be something that connects worlds, cultures, and people. It is art.”

     “Talking of art, have you been to the exhibition RavenTraveling?”  the first Traveler intervenes, “I thought, it was quite amazing.”

“Oh, yes, the exhibition. I agree with you, it was very impressive. Finally, I had the chance to experience the First Nation art within the frames of an exhibition; enjoying art for arts sake, detached from its social and cultural decorations. But, then ….” The forth traveler stopped for a moment, immersing herself in silence as if she wanted to experience her emotions again. “But then, while I was looking at the objects, I realized that the Aboriginal culture and art cannot be understood without its social and cultural context. Now, thinking about the Bill Reid sculpture and our guide in Tofino I realize that the social story of the sculpture completes cultural background of our Aboriginal guide. And suddenly; I understood the source of my feeling of isolation while looking at the First Nation Art. I did not know the stories behind the objects and thus, was not able to immerse in the secrets of their culture. To understand First Nation culture one has to understand the art of the culture since it is inevitably connected to the origin of its people. It was there when I felt how the sculpture that I first saw at the Airport connected itself with its origin and so closed the circle.” Here the forth Traveler ended her story and there was silence until the third Traveler broke the silence with his Encounter story.

What do we make of the stories we tell? And moreover, what do we make of the stories we listen to? Can stories change our believes and teach us new ways of thinking?

     Stories remain a powerful tool to pass ideas from one person to another, from one generation to another. They open a new way of learning and building social relationships. Being anything else but one-dimensional, the art of storytelling offers a way of communication on the interactive stage. Reflecting on this aspect, it is important to notice the roles of the story, the storyteller and the listeners. The method of storytelling within a group remains multifaceted in terms of the identity of each storyteller which is closely connected to the way the story is told. While reading a written story, it cannot be reshaped but only recited remaining unchanged throughout generations. As the Western history shows, some stories become even doctrines. In contrast, every story that is told but not written remains prevalent since the storyteller affects it by his or hers subjectivity.  
Moreover, while telling our Encounter stories to each other, I noticed how each story entered our mind by reshaping itself in this process. The stories themselves voluntarily seemed to weave into each other, came alive and gained their own identity.  But while the storyteller remains subjective, what is the role of the listeners? Having their own cultural background they certainly are independent  of objective perception of the story. However, they are not only able to identify believes of the storyteller but also to reshape the story according to their own believes and backgrounds. Thus, the process of learning becomes a mutual one which also enables the cultivation of social contacts. We learn from the telling of our stories and listening to the others’ not in a mode of individual monologues but in a group discussion. There is no right or wrong because the subjectivity of the story or the individuality of the storyteller and the listener do not hinder each other but complete one another, nourishing and enriching our own knowledge while offering new perspectives.  Reflecting back on our stories, it is not only important to recognize the value of their contents but also of the process of how each one of us was able to put a first step into a culture that is foreign to us through  a story.