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FIELDNOTE_0426_NALUWAN_CHARMAINE

We had a very engaging time this week at Naluwan with our grandmas. Together with the grandmas, we made seashell hanging ornaments using the shells we collected last week.

Reflection on how Place can be Preserved for Generations to Come

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Interesting how you managed to discover the Amis language connection to Malay, further connection to Austronesian, and the similarities the language has to other Asian languages. I also liked your posed questions, which are in line with what I am concerned about after reading your piece. I remembered posing such a similar question to my Ahma, regarding whether there would be a loss of culture as the younger generation starts to live far away from their original hometown, Taitung. She mentioned that the younger generation here in Naluwan, Hsinchu are working hard to continue to uphold the Amis culture and roots in their new "home". So hopefully for generations to come, the Amis people will not lose their heritage, and not forget their original roots.

Fieldnote_0322_Naluwan_Charmaine

Listening to the passing trains slowly accelerating away made me excited for what was to come in Naluwan. Arriving at Xiangshan station was a whole new feeling, it was peaceful.

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When we first arrived at the Naluwan tribe in Hsinchu, we were just in time to join in with the elderly of the tribe, at what seemed their morning exercise.

Elena Sobrino: anti-carceral anthropocenics

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Why is the rate of incarceration in Louisiana so high? How do we critique the way prisons are part of infrastructural solutions to anthropocenic instabilities? As Angela Davis writes, “prisons do not disappear social problems, they disappear human beings. Homelessness, unemployment, drug addiction, mental illness, and illiteracy are only a few of the problems that disappear from public view when the human beings contending with them are relegated to cages.” One way of imagining and building a vision of an anti-carceral future is practiced in the Solitary Gardens project here in New Orleans: 

The Solitary Gardens are constructed from the byproducts of sugarcane, cotton, tobacco and indigo- the largest chattel slave crops- which we grow on-site, exposing the illusion that slavery was abolished in the United States. The Solitary Gardens utilize the tools of prison abolition, permaculture, contemplative practices, and transformative justice to facilitate exchanges between persons subjected to solitary confinement and volunteer proxies on the “outside.” The beds are “gardened” by prisoners, known as Solitary Gardeners, through written exchanges, growing calendars and design templates. As the garden beds mature, the prison architecture is overpowered by plant life, proving that nature—like hope, love, and imagination—will ultimately triumph over the harm humans impose on ourselves and on the planet.

"Nature" here is constructed in a very particularistic way: as a redemptive force to harness in opposition to the wider oppressive system the architecture of a solitary confinement cell is a part of. It takes a lot of intellectual and political work to construct a counter-hegemonic nature, in other words. Gardeners in this setting strive toward a cultivation of relations antithetical to the isolationist, anti-collective sociality prisons (and in general, a society in which prisons are a permanent feature of crisis resolution) foster.