Is Alternate Culture Dead?

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It’s a harsh – and arguably unfounded – realisation that I’ve been drawn towards recently, the death of originality and an alternative scene. The above piece of graffiti in La Gomera (a Spanish island off the coast of Morocco), in many ways encapsulates this fact. Graffiti by its very existence is the expression of self at the expense of the establishment and the government. And yet, here we have a ‘graffiti artist’ who is helping the corporations do their job.  It might as well proclaim, ‘say yes to government surveillance’ or ‘let’s bail out the banks again!’

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Visuals in a Screenplay

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My creativity has been like some sizzling foam on rocks recently after what can be described as little less than a tsunami of creative endeavour. I was working as a teacher trainer in Uganda[1] and during the same period I drafted my entire screenplay in a mere five weeks. My aim being to get a rough cut together that I could then mould and polish later. My  sanity then required a few weeks away from the screenplay – getting back to life as normal – and for my sins have now decided the time has arrived to return to it. I’ve received a great deal of feedback on the piece and am now in the process of sifting through this feedback and theoretical and academic frameworks in order to see how I can sculpt the raw clay I’ve produced.

 

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Circumcision Festival: Mbale, Uganda

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The stifling morning air churns with excitement, energy and the sweet smell of homemade hooch. The road is coated with drunken pilgrims seeking refuge, dancing and chaos inside the gates. A sea of blue and green monitors the scene ready with cattle-herder’s sticks and AK-47s to beat any civil unrest – which might be detrimental to the elite minority -into the muddy dust at our feet.

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A Solution to Poverty & Corruption

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There’s a strong and unmistakable feeling of pride that one gains as a teacher. The feeling when you teach a student a new concept and watch them apply it. It’s truly wonderful and one of the greatest perks of the job. However, with training teachers, I experienced something even greater. The feeling when you teach a teacher a new concept and watch them apply it. You can then watch the students become more engaged in the lesson and learn more. It is a truly rewarding experience and one that I find incomparable.

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Housework in Uganda: A Saga

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I awake as the morning sun flows across the room and pools on the concrete floor. My eyes, though unaccustomed, still welcome the light after a night of darkness. Darkness which was broken only by the piercing light of the torch I used to read. In a house without electricity sleep patterns become dictated by the movements of the sun and the high equatorial-moon. I brush the sleeps from my eyes and my morning routine begins.

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Sharing Skills with Ugandan Teachers

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The nineteen year old headmaster – with a second level qualification – leads me to our shelter from the morning sun. We sit in the shade of a pine tree, around a locally-produced wooden table and chairs. I am warmly greeted by the other members of staff, a man in his late-teens and an eighteen year old mother nursing her baby boy, as I take a sit at the rather delicately-placed table. The school – a cobbled concoction of mud, concrete and bricks – sits almost apologetically beside some eavesdropping cows and goats. This was my first experience of being a ‘teacher-trainer’ last week.

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The Disarming effect of Ugandan Religious Fervor

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I am, and have always been, a staunch atheist with a respect and fascination with religion but a firm belief that it shouldn’t be aggressively re-enforced or alluded to, publicly. Personal experience has dictated that people who vocalize their beliefs are the same people that disregard those of others. Further being raised in the semi-rural Ireland of the 1990’s, I had a Catholic-immersed childhood. The most positive result of which having ample imagination-developing time at Mass each week. However, peculiarly I don’t find the reality of religion seeping into every facet of life in Uganda as abhorrent as I thought I would.

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Muzungu: Intitial thoughts on Uganda

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Poverty. Chaos. Laughter. And happiness. These are probably the best four words to sum up my first week in Uganda. I came to help with teacher training services for some community initiatives here and have found a new place in my heart[1].

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Pessimism Greets Victory

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Ireland tops a – grammatically adventurous – survey to win ‘goodest’ country to live. Now that in itself isn’t something that I deem worthy of comment[1] . However, the outrage (within my homeland) over the victory needs to be unpacked. Irish people greeted the award with angry emails denouncing the country’s status.

On the surface, this seems like a ludicrous concept rooted in a deep-seeded, anti-nationalistic, pessimism. A society so lacking in patriotism that any celebration of the nation leads to cries of treason. However, such a reasoning lacks an understanding of the self-deprecating and cynical nature of the Irish.

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Communicating Images While Economising Words

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I begun the unnerving task of writing my first, feature-length screenplay – Downward Mobility – recently. Months of planning, treatments, pitches and character profiles behind me, I now begin at the start line as it were!

The story has been carved out, it just needs a gentle sanding . However, I am now charged with the mammoth, albeit enjoyable,  task of communicating that story for producers, actors and directors to interpret. Remarkably, I’m discovering that the most difficult undertaking is capturing the economic-simplicity of a screenplay.

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