NOSALTRES - per un món millor: We - For a Better World

Von Carlos Alma, LaBGC und Promosaik

NOSALTRES ist eine Sammlung von Reflexionen, Beschreibungen, Analysen und Bildern einer Gruppe von 52 Frauen und Männern unterschiedlicher Herkunftsländer, Religion und Profession in Journalismus, Kunst, Philosophie und Wissenschaft, die sich gedanklich mit der Zukunft unserer Erde befassen. Dieses Buch handelt von uns allen. Es spricht aus unterschiedlichen Perspektiven, in diversen Formen und verschiedenen Sprachen. Gedichte, Bilder, Briefe, Träume von idealen Gesellschaften, Analysen der großen Herausforderungen, aktueller wie zukünftiger, regen zu eigenen Reflexionen an.

• Sprache: Deutsch
• Herausgeber: tredition
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2. Mai 2017
• ISBN: 9783743920590

Buchvorschau

Carles Puigdemont i Casamajó

Pròleg

La Bàrbara, la B de l’acrònim LaBGC, l’artista –i amiga- alemanya que viu a Girona des de fa una colla d’anys, m’ha convidat a prologar el nou projecte solidari que ha endegat, el llibre Nosaltres – Per un món millor, una baula més de la iniciativa que ha emprès per impulsar, a través de l’art, i en aquest cas, de la paraula escrita, una xarxa internacional de persones que amb els seus pensaments, visions i opinions posin una mica de llum, si és que se n’hi pot posar, a les grans preguntes que sempre s’ha fet la humanitat i, sobretot, cap on anem i què podem fer per millorar la nostra situació.

LaBGC m’ha demanat unes breus línies sobre dos assumptes que crec que tenen a veure l’un amb l’altre més del que pot semblar: la meva visió institucional de Catalunya a dins d’Europa i la meva visió personal com a pare de dues filles. Se’m fa complicat deslligar les dues visions una de l’altra.

En tot cas, parlar de la relació Catalunya-Europa és força senzill i agraït alhora. Catalunya és Europa, des de sempre. Els comtats catalans són d’origen carolingi, i si algun rei té glamur europeu aquest és Carlemany. Centrant-nos ja en els nostres temps, és cert que estem vivint una temporada amb trasbalsos, que afecta al vell continent plenament. La raó i el sentit que han caracteritzat i ens han fet confiar en el projecte europeu tremolen amb els embats de la demagògia i el populisme.

Davant d’això, hem de bastir ponts per una millor Europa. Catalunya ha de formar part d’una Europa oberta, acollidora i integradora, amb les seves imperfeccions, tot sigui dit, però una Europa amable, plena de valors i virtuts.

I és en aquesta Europa on vull, com a pare, que creixin i es formin les meves filles. Quan era més jove vaig recórrer el continent per preguntar què sabien o pensaven els europeus de nosaltres, els catalans. Avui, uns quants anys després, amb una Catalunya coneguda i reconeguda a nivell europeu, el meu desig és que la meva família, i els meus conciutadans, puguem viure com a catalans plenament en llibertat a Europa.

Aquesta ha estat la meva petita contribució al gran projecte solidari de LaBGC. I coneixent-la, no tinc cap dubte que serà tot un èxit.

Vida 2 | Leben 2

280x190 Oil on canvas

2014

Vida 1 | Leben 1

280x190 Oil on canvas

2014

Abid, Mohamed

Una mina bajo mi almohada

Antes de que las protestas se desplomen

Contra la tierra y el cielo,

la brújula del sueño me conducirá al caos

y desnudo saldré corriendo por las calles

sin importarme la falsedad de la sabiduría.

Montaré en bicicleta,

como en las películas de blanco y negro.

Y esperaré la señal de partida

para destruir la caja negra que hay en mi cabeza.

Un peatón que va por una calle estrecha me pregunta;

enterrado en sus despojos;

sobre el secreto de la discordia que vive en la memoria del mundo,

y la presentadora de la tele pregunta,

injertando en su sonrisa un color amarillo chillón

sobre el secreto de tal comportamiento.

Pregunta a los transeúntes,

que denuncian en los micrófonos a sus voces

y su difunta existencia.

El silencio se hace más grande,

Y a mi no me incumbe.

A mi vera hay una copa

que disfruta de este vacío,

el bar tiembla con sus clientes.

Aquí estoy

renovando la brújula del sueno.

Desconozco si me he quedado dormido,

o de repente me caí

del ombligo de la vida.

Me dormí o de repente me caí,

es lo mismo.

me dormí pensando,

en la puerta que la llave no deja descansar,

en el sermón del gobernante,

en el país y en el pueblo.

Me dormí pensando en los sueños con ojos abiertos - mi deporte favorito -

quizás de repente se hagan posibles,

o en una incursión en la alerta del vacío.

Me dormí pensando en mi funeral,

el funeral de anoche.

Me dormí pensando en la novena copa

y el camino que no lleva al corazón,

en el barro que odia mis zapatos,

en los pechos de Brigitte Bardot,

en las manzanas del paraíso,

en las canciones de Nas al Giuán,

en mis pensamientos extenuados,

en el futbol que golpea la cara del mundo,

en la humillación que viene a visitarnos, montada en su caballo blanco.

Me dormí pensando en las canciones que nos llegan

con todos los traseros del mundo

para asfixiar nuestros gustos,

en el arrepentimiento que se estira en mi sangre

y la desesperación que mora en la oxidación de los instantes.

Me dormí pensando en el camino hacia mí.

Me interrumpió el desmayo,

y me inyectó con fragmentos.

Ayer no me dormí,

tan sólo estaba borracho,

y me despertó el ruido de la historia.

Pido ayuda,

por favor,

abre la puerta.

A lo mejor nos bombardean unos aviones

desde las pantallas de la tele.

Quizás nos atropelle alguna ambulancia,

quizás quedemos atapados en una fría celda.

Abre la puerta,

tal vez la muerte nos separe,

la tumba es un pequeño museo de la vida,

y aquí, la vida no nos quiere como nosotros a ella.

Todos los deseos han sido ahorcados por la mañana,

y cuando la luz del día penetre en la habitación de la esperanza,

entonces los caminantes n la oscuridad abrirán fuego sobre las mariposas.

Abre la puerta,

tan sólo me queda un poema

para perecer de una parada poética.

Traducción : Mounir Kasmi

Alma, Carlos | Khan, Keith

Great Small Gestures

The smallest of things can have the greatest impact. Living in London, in a fast moving metropolis, we had forgotten this. We needed to remind ourselves, and we chose to travel to Japan to experience the Shikoku Henro pilgrimage. A circular route of 1,200km and 88 temples make this buddhist pilgrimage on the island of Shikoku. The pilgrimage can be achieved in any way, in a car, by coach, in pieces. We chose to do it all on foot, and assigned two months to accomplish it.

It was the start of 2014 and we decided to pack the house and move to another country. A pilgrimage in Japan had been in mind for a while , so what better start of a new life? We flew to Osaka, then travelled to the island. At the first temple, we kitted ourselves with all the pilgrimage paraphernalia: a white kimono jacket; a staff, inscribed with sutras; and most importantly a book, in which we could collect seals and calligraphy from each temple. This, alongside our 15 kg bags and our tent were our only equipment.

Each day we covered about 30 kilometres. We walked though farmland, in bamboo forests. We climbed many mountains, sleep in parks, in business hotels, ryokans, pilgrimage hostels and in temples themselves. We bathed in rivers and in the public bath houses or onsen. There we learnt about Kōbō-Daishi also known as kanji Kūkai 空海 (空 sky 海 ocean), the founder of the pilgrimage. It is his spirit that guided us on this journey... his spirit, a map and the people that we encountered.

Some days we only walked, other days we reached temples, recited a sutra and made offerings. At each temple we collected a stamp in our book, and a beautiful inscription. Respect and excitement is what we felt when we approached each of the temples. And a great deal of calm after the usually strenuous way up (literally) 108 steps, the number of sins that, according to Buddhist principles, affect us all.

While we were very focused on the physical activity of the walk, we had not taken into account the sheer wealth of goodwill and kindness that would surround us whilst undertaking this pilgrimage. But very quickly, we discovered that often we, as pilgrims, would be given osettai or small gifts by supporters of Kōbō-Daishi hoping to help us and themselves by these offerings. The first gift was simply fruits, but as time progressed we were given all sorts of osettai, from money to accommodation. We learnt to treasure each and every one of these. This was not longer our pilgrimage. Food was given when we were hungry, lifts were given when we were tired and our journey became a collective experience. Beautiful nature and exquisite food filled our days, but also tiredness and wild weather, all part of the diary of a pilgrim. By helping us to reach our destination they took part in the pilgrimage, they owned a share of the enlightenment, and we were delighted with that. This was the real discovery on this journey. The people from the island and their small gestures towards us, which helped us get to the end (which was also the start...)

The arrival to the next town, early morning, pulling along our oversize backpacks among locals on their way to work. It is cloudy and cold but a passing konichiwa! makes it all warmer and brighter. A moment later a bicycle ring announces the arrival of freshly baked buns courtesy of a lady, her peddling accelerating her bike with a fast spin and a smile on her face. And we feel happy to be there.

A ride to the next temple is an offer we cannot refuse no matter how seriously we take our pilgrim commitment to walk. A woman stops her car next to us. She is on her way to deliver a camera to her husband at work. It is the end of the fiscal year, and the first day of the new one, senior workers retire while new salary men join the team on this auspicious day. This moment it is ceremoniously immortalised in photographs. Her husband has forgotten his camera, and out of duty, she is obliged to deliver it to him at his office. She complains about the expected dutifulness of the Japanese wife and she is keen to take us to the next temple on her car. An unexpected but welcomed distraction from her mission. Two haikus later, a discussion on Jane Austen and the entanglement of our willing but not very efficient Japanese, we arrive at the same temple we just came from. Of course, she is sweet enough, to drive us on the temple we expected to reach!

Stoned carved jizos along the way guard the pilgrims and also remind them, with their round bodies and cute expressions, that this is a path of kindness. And some days nature reminded us that this was her land. Walking for a whole day along the Pacific Ocean in the middle of an incipient typhoon is not easy task. Cape Muroto, a wonderful volcanic land jut out into the ocean, is where kanji Kūkai 空海 did his ascetic training for hundred days. Governed by the coordinates, the sky and the ocean it feels too big and bewildering. It is dark and unpopulated at that time of the night but, like an oasis, the local spa onsen shines in the distance. There we steam up and dine and the young receptionist offers himself to make sure we have a place to stay in the temple that night. Up on the hill top we went and we were welcomed in. A good night rest and a polite refusal to us paying for the lodging: it's osettai, it's a gift (*.*)

Small gestures such a pair of socks for the impromptu pilgrim who left on his office clothes, unprepared and looking at the pilgrimage as a way to somewhere. He had walked out of his overbearing life, to join the pilgrimage. A night sleep under the bell in the temple tower, at the very early stage of our journey, safe and guided by others on the same path.

Spending days walking with a chain smoking father, and his 20 year old son. Quickly followed by disappointment of the father towards his son for not being able to finish the way. So many expectations put on him, as they faded into the distance.

After two months of walking, we thought it would be an easy journey to the last temple, just because it was the last one... We had seen the numbers of pilgrims diminish and we realised that the numbers that complete the full cycle is very low. Carlos realizes that he has left his henro pilgrim vest behind. He is disappointed for being so careless but had learnt by then to transcend this type of mundane emotions. But he didn’t, need to dwell for long because only few kilometres away from the temple a white van stops by the road and the driver returns his white vest neatly folded. A gentle bow and an honest Arigatou gozaimashita and we have one more spiritual companion in our party.

Those little gifts showed us that the smallest action, made by ourselves, or given to us, can contribute to the richness and value of life. A symbiosis of small gestures that sustains harmony. The faith deposited on us to carry their pledges and offerings. Faith the we would correspond by dutifully taking their hearts and sutras to each of