“Do you know where you are?”

  
I work in an old folk residence as a clown on Wednesdays. We use a different approach in these centers, as opposed to in pediatrics and general hospitals. We visit elders and other people that reside there (which is anyone over 18 who is not autonomous). This particular center has a palliative care unit. The staff is hesitant to let us into this ward, understandably so. We convince them that we are professionals and we know what to do and especially what not to do.

We enter the ward, no music, no noise and receptors fully open to everything happening around us. Things are quite quiet, people are somnolent, the stress and tension is high. We get to an open door. There is a man standing in front of a wall which is covered with pictures. He doesn't see nor hear us. He's in his 50s and looks fit. I look at my partner, I can tell she's ready just by her look and so I knock. The man, a little startled, turns to us. He looks very confused by the sight before him.
I ask, “Can we come in?”
He answers, “Do you know where you are?”
I say, “Yes sir. Can we come in?”
He answers very dramatically “You are in the place where people come to die!”
I calmly answer, “Yes sir. Palliative care. We know. May we come in?”
A little baffled by my answer, he nods, yes. So we walk in, introduce ourselves and ask to see his pictures. Bullseye. He proudly shows us the pictures of his family, his life, his adventures. He quickly gets very emotional when talking about his family and how he doesn't want to leave them behind. We open our hearts to him and empathize best we can. We talk about love, luck and life. We then slowly and very respectively start lightening up the mood, we accelerate the rhythm, I say something silly, I get a laugh, we share a laugh and finally end up cheery and joyous. We pay our tributes and let him know that we will come back to knock on his door the following week.
Comes the following week and we never make it to his door. As we move towards the unit, he is waiting for us at the entrance. He is now in a wheelchair. (We had already heard about the impact of our visit with him from the staff before our shift but it was a mesmerizing sight to see him there, so excited about our rendez-vous.) We spend a good amount of time with him. We pick up where we left off. I can tell he's in a different “phase” mentally. We play music, share stories and emotions and he sees us off.
The week after he is not waiting for us at the entrance. His room is dark and he is lying in bed. I play soft, slow rhythm-ed music on my harmonica. He doesn't wake up. We stay with him for a while. We tell him stories with picturesque sceneries inspired from his life story. We hug him, hold his hands and kiss his cheeks. Then we see him off.
The week after that, the pictures are down, the room has been cleaned and someone else is lying in the bed.

maximelarose.com

When Dads Cry...

My clown partner and I walk into a 16 year old's room. He had been recommended to us by his doctors and his mother had practically begged us to come visit him a few minutes earlier. He's a returning patient, he overcame leukemia 12 years ago and now he is muted by strange soars in his mouth and down his throat. The parents look tired but they front good spirits. The dad is a tough looking construction worker. He has a big red beard, huge hands, tattoos, you know, Tasmanian Devil / snake and dagger style and a rocker t-shirt. We decide to play a song for him. I play dumb and everyone is loves it. My partner gets frustrated and discouraged and they keep loving it. My partner starts "You are my sunshine" on her ukulele and I try to join in on my harmonica but always with the wrong timing. My partner gets mad, I play dumb and the family is laughing harder and harder. At a crescendo of laughs we finally get it going. My partner holds the rhythm and sings while I blow on my harmonica. I have to admit that we play this song often and we are getting pretty damn good at it. A verse later, I notice the dad out of the corner of my eye. He is taking off his glasses and wiping his tears. I don't want to draw attention to it but it's such a powerful sight that it's hard to ignore. I don't know if it was the beauty of the song, the lyrics, the kid laughing and then amazed at the idiots' talent yet it undoubtedly affected him strongly. My partner also discretely notices. What a strong moment. I understand that these families are extremely stressed and in vulnerable positions, it feels nice to be the catalyst to let these emotions surface. On a personal level: I love doing good by acting stupid. I will try to further this art by adding a layer to this play. My objective would be to keep playing dumb as I do so well but to let the patient/public in on it. I am not dumb so by playing dumb yet letting the patient/public in on it and not my partner, who gets mad and/or discouraged, it adds some truth and layers to the game. We'll see how I materialize this.

All is well that ends well.

I had a Cirque du Soleil audition yesterday and totally screwed up. I showed them nothing of what I could do. I went in a direction that was like the first clown improve I ever did. I went poetic and not physical. I totally sabotaged myself. But then, being bummed out at being cut in the afternoon, as I was biking home I realized it was all for the best.

What if I had delivered, and had been chosen. A huge dilemma would have ensued. Do I give up my artistic and personal development, all of my freedoms, the perfect clown job I have in hospitals and retirement homes, my condo, my projects, quality time with my wife and soon to be two kids, etc, to go do a very restricted mime role in the big corporate machine?

Rejection is always tough but I'm glad they made the decision for me. Maybe I'll audition again someday, when I retire...

Two first times...

My clown partner and I are walking down the hospital corridor and we enter a room where a 15 year old, poly-handicapped teen is sitting in his wheelchair. His father is there. They seem to be from the middle east. We start a chant and music, I use his wheelchair and then his body for percussion. The boy starts laughing, the dad starts crying. The more the boy laughs, the more the dad cries. We finish our intervention, say goodbye and leave. As we exit the next room, I hear the father talking to another parent across the hall and he says "It's the first time I hear my son laughing..."

Woah...

The next day, 2 nurses come chasing us down the hall to come meet their patient. Another poly-handicapped teen who is a regular in this ward. The nurses give us a hint about the boy's "girlfriend". The teen cannot communicate with words, mostly grunts and pure emotions. So the clowns get into this improv about the female clown, my partner, trying to seduce this teen to become his "new girlfriend". I suggest singing, dancing, massaging... to which my partner says yes, doing things very chaotically. There is a huge build-up and the teen is laughing hysterically. We say good-bye and as we are leaving, I overhear the nurses say, "I've never heard him laugh before..."

Nice.

Video summary of South Africa

I know it's been a little while but the year has been hectic. Naïa Leigh is already going to be a year in a month.
I still love what I do and as a result, great things are happening. My clown trio, Les 3 Garcons, are appearing on a tv show tonight. "En route Vers Mon Premier Gala Juste Pour Rire" is a tv show where stand-up comedians and variety troupes perform and the public votes for their favorite. Last man or troupe standing gets to perform at the Just For Laughs Gala this summer.
In the last year I've been to two Native Communities here in Quebec to hold 2 weeks of workshops. The Innus and the Crees. My family was able to follow me and it was an incredible experience.
Dr Clown still fulfills me. I love working with sick children and adults and old people in retirement homes. My entries will mostly deal with these. After 4 years experience I have many wonderful and sad stories to share and they keep accumulating every day.


For now, here is a little video montage to recap my mission in South Africa.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2XOCY1FOBAA

Tumela

Tumela bo nTate, bo ‘m’e, bo abuti and bo aussi,

A week has gone by and it seems like so much more. Time doesn’t feel the same in Malealea where there is no electricity and my days are filled with amazing moments upon amazing encounters. The work with the orphans, trainees and their caregivers is well under way. It’s a different rhythm than the shows we were doing in the beginning of this expedition. I’m getting to know the local people personally and it’s so enriching for me. Everywhere I go in the village people now recognize me, they know I’m not a regular tourist and that is so precious to me.

After my last post we went to the handicap center and it was pure magic. Sibongile and I performed for them and they loved it. What a great crowd! To see these children in more than difficult situation love Pedalo and the interpretation of a Sesotho I offered them and then using my therapeutic techniques to empower all of them by playing music with them individually to make them feel like rock stars for their friends and family is something I will always cherish. The conditions these children live in is not comparable to the kids with similar handicaps back home in Canada.

Last Monday we stated the residency program. We meet the caregivers in the morning we do theater exercises and have them share and open up. We gently introduced psychosocial games to them have them play and learn communication tools. We feed them a good, hearty and plentiful meal at the end of every session which I think is the motivation for them to come and it works. They surprise me every day with their individual investments. They give themselves one hundred per cent and have such a good time playing the games we teach them. I see them becoming kids and opening up with very little inhibition. They were really surprised and love the fact that I eat with them every meal we have.

We have an hour and fifteen minute break before meeting with the orphans they take care of in the afternoon and my time is usually spent playing with Pulane, who is the local child that lives at the lodge I reside at. I showed her acrobatics and hand to hand today. She is a natural, like most of the kid’s here.

The orphans are wonderful too. They play like children should and forget about their circumstances during the time we spend with them. We started with games to get to know each other and now we are preparing a show we will present to their caregivers next week. They all started warming up to me slowly, which is what I had planned. Many of them cough a lot and don’t seem very healthy. It’s hard to imagine that many of them are HIV positive. We are building their confidence, I can see the change in them daily.

The trainees are great people too. They are paid to be with us but I can see the immense change in them from the first day to today. They seemed very skeptical in the beginning but I have seen them transformed and eager about the rest of the work and the future. There are two guys that are about my age out of the five trainees and today I saw them take out little medical bags from their pockets and swallow a multitude of different pills which I’m guessing is medication for HIV-Aids but I would have never guessed that they were affected. Same as the only male caregiver in our elderly group, I’ve learned that his 76 year old mother is HIV positive. What a different reality!

I cherish every moment here and I look forward to using the experience I am gaining here to help out the people in need where-ever I may be.

Malealea

We are on the way to the airport to drop off Jamie and then Sibongile and I are going to a school for handicap children to do a show and therapeutic clowning. We then have to pick up material and food for the residency program in Maseru. I will try to find an internet café to post this update and I hope to drop in to the Medecins Sans Frontieres clinic on the way back to Malealea.

The day after we showed up in Malealea was a national holiday and we got the chance to join the festivities at the neighboring school. It was overwhelming to see the energy and musicality these wonderful people have. With the breathtaking scenery surrounding us, the day seemed magical. We walked around and played with the kids but didn’t dress up as clowns since we hadn’t warned them of our presence and didn’t want to take any focus away from their event.

The following day was the first time we met the trainees and the caregivers. The morning was dedicated to the trainees, which are the local people we are teaching the residency program to so they can do it themselves when we aren’t here anymore. Some of them speak a little English which will make it easier for me yet all the sessions will be in Sesotho and Sibongile will translate for me when-ever it is needed.

In the afternoon we met the caregivers who are the more elderly people that have taken in one or more orphans or vulnerable children into their homes. The lines on these peoples faces mirror years of a tough existence and the cracks on their hands and feet describe their relationship to the land. I love the fact that here every session here starts and finishes with a song. They all sing really well, they dance and shout and laugh and the energy it creates is astounding. I feel like crying every time.

The following day we went to the two schools that these vulnerable children attend and put on clown shows for the entire schools. What a unique experience it was for me as an artist. A whole bunch of children who didn’t speak any English gathered outside, with the mountains overlooking us. The shows went really well, Jamie and Sibongile had preset numbers that I simply joined and our relationships worked really well. I look forward to our next shows, even though it will be different since Jamie won’t be there.

The work I have been doing here has been inspiring me to start up new projects at home with our Native communities. My mind is constantly thinking of how I can adapt the experience I am gaining here to the work that needs to be done back home.

It’s very demanding here but worth every ounce of energy.