by Joke Debaere Of all things possible, I find the voice the most intimate part of the body. I have looked at myself in the mirror. I have hated what I saw, loved what I saw. Some confrontation there. But nothing like my own sound, speaking through the speakers. If ever I wanted to run … Continue reading On touring and the memory of voice
For weeks now I regularly think what it is that I want to share with you - the thinking trying to bring together the intensity of the year so far: my mother’s death, the rise of Trump in America, turning fifty, landing on Paris airport two hours after bombs exploded in Brussels airport and my … Continue reading Trumping politics cannot last
by Joke Debaere During the time that we stayed in the Bushveld, to take care of Francois’ mother, we experienced a severe drought, as so many regions of South Africa did and still do. I had been in the Bushveld during summer time for numerous times, but never saw the fields covered with such brownish, … Continue reading Of yellow flowers and finishing a novel
My mother passed away on Tuesday morning. Many of you have known her, or know about her. I mentioned her illness a while back. Yesterday, I wrote a message about the impact and significance her life and death has to me, but had a feeling I needed to write this intro to put things in … Continue reading On the life and death of a mother
Usually when I write for HA!News, I have a single sort of inspiration and then find that the writing comes rather flowingly. This time, too, I have an inspiration, but I have been thinking for weeks now what it is that I want to say. So difficult! But let me try and engage it with … Continue reading This dangerous, ecstatic, but lonely path
by Joke Debaere The waves here in Africa hit harder they don’t break so gently against me as when I was twelve in France and me and my sisters let wave after wave break on our bodies for hours Here the water hits you so hard that I was surprised by it the first time … Continue reading The Madness Makes Me Homesick
sometimes, like now, it feels impossible to write.. I am in the Bushveld, where my mother lives we had a week of family togetherness, all four children with their families (and I with Joke) coming from far and away to celebrate my mother’s birthday also to face my mother’s illness. my father died from cancer … Continue reading Cancer, the Greeks, and the Need for Re-integration
sitting in a cosy english antique shop muffled over as a tea room with a copy of the first proclamation of Thanksgiving next to our table (November 24, 1623) i watch the video (link below) i assembled of moments between Joke and myself on stage over the past years my wish is to share it … Continue reading an existential allowance
Today marks one year since Mandela died. There is no cross left where we can go and bow to be saved by him. He left no ideology. He did not even - in truth - leave us with stock moral messages. In a celebration concert of his life - the last of our recent North … Continue reading A Million Little Mandelas
by Joke Debaere Thinking harder. Thinking more. Breathing deeper. A new newsletter to write. Shifting private memories of last month’s journey from public ones. Or am I sorting things upside down? And is what I regard as private exactly what moves people the most? However it may be. What I am sure of, is that … Continue reading Fligh high and fall fast
