Third Eye Kite festival – Batticaloa 15th May 2005
Four groups of young people from Kumarapurum Seelamunai, Karavapunganai and Navatkudah met on a firey May Day for kite flying.
Children’s events in Sri Lanka are often fairly disciplined and ordered affairs. Along with the speeches of dignitaries, there are neat lines of children singing or dancing and it would not be stretching the point to suggest they often have a militaristic rather than creative ethos. This is not too condemn the organizers of these events as it is difficult to escape the assumption that in order to display the work of hundreds of children tight parading is necessary. Although it could be argued that the conflict has produced these disciplinary structures, I would argue that the well-marshaled shape of children’s festivals owes as much to a strict and authoritarian education system as it does to the context of war.
The Third Eye kite festival on a large playing field in the village of Seelamunai on Sunday May 15th was very different. In both structure and content it did not conform to the familiar shape I have seen in past festivals. I would argue that it was because the structure was in many ways its content that the event differed to such a degree.
A certain beautiful chaos ruled the afternoon. The children started – could only start – by flying their kites. Made from palm strips and colored tissue paper over the weeks prior to the festival, they came in different shapes and sizes – and were flown sometimes expertly and sometimes precariously by children of different shapes and sizes. And because the wind and other natural elements partly determined the success of this endeavour, the flying appeared in a range of contrasting forms. Young girls were seen twirling their kites behind them – barely a metre in the air – dancing joyfully in wild circles with the same randomness as their kite’s path. Other children stood in awe as their kites soared, high into the sun. They were forced to stand still, not daring to pull too roughly on the string or shift position too drastically hoping to sustain the precious flight. The franticness of some was therefore matched with the calmness of others. There were so many patterns danced by children during the evening, it is hard to capture them all. There was the solitary – as in the girl above – or the communal as several youngsters worked on the same kite. Also there were collaborations as adults worked with children to lift their constructions into the wind. A father clearly delighted in hoisting his (or his son’s) kite into the air.
So in structure this cultural event offered something different from the tightly controlled spaces that children usually operate within. It was not the strict format of school; it was not the militaristic parade. Children played free form, and that very freedom was a powerful counterpoint to many of the tensions and restrictions of the region.
Some observers might suggest that this event had no content as such – no agenda, no obvious theme, and no educational message. And that the lack of focus was not giving the children any direction, or any sense of a concrete learning experience. I would disagree. First learning to make kites in a traditional manner is worthwhile in and of itself – it provides a creative pastime, it links young people to a traditional activity and brings a joy when a personal creation seemingly develops its own power and flies. The activity brings children into direct connection with their environment and a concentrated awareness of the subtle balances required between weight and wind, shape and aerodynamics. Second the very freedom permitted by this gathering, organised and official, yet free and spontaneous, offered a rare space for these groups of children and adults. As well as the kite flying, children demonstrated songs they had made up and also the groups played some of the games they had been practising in their villages. The fun of the opening kite flying section of the event seemed to pervade these later sections and singing had a certain positive lack of organisation and the games a sense of abandon. This spirit created a space that by being uncontrolled, was a powerful response to the many factors and forces that control the spaces these communities, these children, live within. And they were spaces here that was planted firmly in a playground – but also soared high in the hot sky.
There was a story at the end of the day that there had been an incident in Batticaloa town, and a nervousness descended as the day ended. An important reminder that festivals might create momentary exhilarating celebrations, but the tensions of the context can quickly reclaim any spaces opened up. Kites are wonderful in their lightness and agility, but also fleeting and sadly fragile.
James Thompson
Professor of Applied and Social Theatre
Centre for Applied Theatre Research
Martin Harris Building
University of Manchester
Oxford RoadManchester M13 9PL0044 161 275 3357
www.inplaceofwar.net
May 2005
