We Lingered in the Spaces and Places of Silence

Shoun and I have completed day five of our travels.  Charla has accompanied us, and what a joy she is.  We have a routine established. Shoun sets up his camera equipment.  I manage the paperwork and explanations and all. Charla stays along the fringes, being helpful to Shoun or the family. Shoun then gives the instructions of counting to three after a question and after and answer.  This is the hard part for me of interviewing versus conversing. I got good marks yesterday and today.

Our interviews have spanned the generations, elders, young adults, and slightly older adults. The conversations have been with family and friends of friends. We interviewed in a quaint and comfortable library in one small North Carolina and in the comfort of a living room in a home two hours from the first interview.

I am struck tonight with the raw emotion of stories. Stories are both evocative and provocative I have said for years. We live in and through our stories.  Our stories give us meaning.  They set the parameters of who is in and who is out of families and spaces and places.

An interview, though not a therapy session, is designed to elicit stories. The interviewee sits with camera on her or him.  I sit off to the side, out of the glare of the lights or the stare of the camera. I have to ask good questions.  It is their story that the camera and I are searching for.  I am aware of the power and influence of questions.  Questions can be biased, gender insensitive, or whatever. I have to be very, very aware that I am a white man asking questions of African American farmers and families.  My face likely looks like the faces of those who discriminated against them.

Sometimes I just have to sit back and do nothing more than listen.  The person starts at a place and goes to whatever place is deemed narrative worthy.  Within the text is sacred space and dialogue.  Within the spaces between are poetry, intensity, and deep, raw emotion.

Today we listened to stories of a movement.  I was very, very curious about how a family situation turns into a movement.  The grand narrative of service to others is rich throughout the time with them.

Today we listened to stories of loss and grief and about passing the baton from one generation to the next. We listened painfully as the living rehearsed the stories of the deceased, how their lives will never be the same, and how the USDA robbed them of their beloveds.  The design of class action suits is anywhere from restoration of wholeness, or payment for pain and suffering, or any number of other things. Sadness can turn into anger and resentment in a heart beat.

In the cases of these farmers and families, there is never enough money, and there never will be enough money to pay for their losses.  Some have wished that their loved one had walked away.  That way, they would still have their loved one.  With others, we discussed, so, how much is an eye worth, or a kidney, or a heart, or a brain, or a marriage, or a family. For such, there is no price.

We lingered in between the answers to the questions and the next question.  Yes, we lingered in those spaces and places of silence.  Those sacred moments of silence were not to be unnecessarily cluttered with words. 

So, thus we wrapped up a five day period of interviews. We conducted five interviews with five people. We have five more interviews to conduct over the next little while.

Until the next one, I think I'll continue to linger in the spaces and places of sacred silence.