Raconteur Workshops in Bormla
Miriam Calleja is a raconteur working on the O&M project with elderly communities in Bormla and Żejtun, through literature and dance alongside other choreographers. Here she recounts what went on in her very first session with the elderly at the Bormla Home.
They enter the room slowly, some of them with the aid of walkers. A couple of them turned up very early, even though they live in a room on the same floor as our meeting place. I am in equal measure eager and anxious about meeting them. This is my first time working with the elderly.
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At the start of my first session with them, I am aware of the way they observe my body language as I tell them the story of Orpheus and Eurydice, and of Layla and Majnun. They nod in understanding at Orpheus’ grief, tut at hearing of Layla’s fate, twitch a tiny smile at the possibility of Majnun’s final resting place.
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The stories incite them to tell me about their early life and we spend the rest of the hour in such introductions. In the end, the circle comes back to me. I’ve already explained the purpose of my visit, but they want to know what brought me here. How did I end up in this room with them? I open up too, and that seems to bring us to a new level of understanding.
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The nature of being a workshop leader demands that you are flexible, that you know how to adapt to the session according to specific needs. It demands that plans are put aside if the mood feels wrong. It means you might need a couple of backup plans. In a care home, there are many factors that might change the mood. The day and time of day, what activities have been going on that day, the residents’ relationship with each other, and of course each individual’s timetable.
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Before we leave, one of them whispers “Remind me to tell you about the bell next time.”
Two weeks later I realise that there is a heroine in our midst. Lucy Camilleri shows me the article published on The Times of Malta on January 18th 2015 written by Alfred Conti Borda (https://www.timesofmalta.com/articles/view/20150118/life-features/The-Qormi-school-that-was-saved-by-the-bell.552544).
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The poem below recounts the events of that fateful day.
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Saved by the bell
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Little Lucy had a mission
She was not a little shy
But she couldn’t get permission
On that which she had her eye
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The bell that held Lucy’s affection
Was not a plaything, not a toy
It was used to get the attention
Of every girl and every boy
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When air raid sirens were heard in Malta
The police rang up the school
If you heard the bell, your path would alter
You’d go to a shelter if you weren’t a fool
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At first Lucy could only dream
Of the cold brass in her hand
Then her wish became extreme
Just a feeling she couldn’t stand
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One day she found herself alone with the bell
And no one was around
This was her moment, she could tell
She picked it up and enjoyed the sound
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This all happened during the war
Everyone ran when they heard the alarm
It is what fate had in store
And no one came to any harm
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