Do We Own Stories, or Do Stories Own Us?

Interview with Lisa Ndejuru

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Do We Own Stories, or Do Stories Own Us?

Interview with Lisa Ndejuru

Lisa Ndejuru

My name is Lisa, daughter of Aimable, son of Pierre Claver, Mwene (which means “son of”) Ngwije, Mwene Karenzi, Mwene Gitondo, Mwene Karorero, Mwene Kivunangoma, Mwene Rwiru, Mwene Murahire, Mwene Nknogoli, Mwene Makara, Mwene Kiramira, Mwene Mucuzi, Mwene Nyantabana, Mwene Gahenda, Mwene Bugirande, Mwene Ngoga, Mwene Gihinira, Mwene Makara, Mwene Gahutu, Mwene Sergwega, Mwene Mututsi, and Mwene Kigwa.

These are stories of a nation, of a people. That I should be taking it upon myself to engage with these stories: who am I to do that? At the same time, for so many people these stories are obsolete, irrelevant. What do they speak of?

Rwanda’s culture is an oral culture. And so they were held in bodies. Families held pieces of these stories like knowledge keepers. They would pass them on from generation to generation. These were called Ibitekerezo, from the verb gutekereza, which means “stories to think with.” They were used in court to shed light on situations. To remember. They were transcribed from 1957 to 1961, by this colonial researcher called Jan Vansina, and they are now known as the Vansina collection. That’s how they’re held in the archive.

I was born in Rwanda, but I was raised in Germany, and then here in Tiohtià:ke, Montreal. And so the stories that I was raised with were Little Red Riding Hood, and The Three Little Pigs, and all those kinds of stories. And I never knew stories that were of me or that I was of. I’m wondering what it does to engage with these stories today, in contemporary times, and to play with them creatively. What are we claiming when we’re claiming Indigeneity? Legitimacy? In the name of what are we willing to do what? So those are ways to think, with the stories and the art making.

“That’s what I’m working towards, to have many, many different hands and ears and eyes and tastes that engage with these stories.”

When I’m thinking with young Black artists, Rwandan artists, the questions become different. Do we own the stories? Do the stories own us? We don’t know. But there’s something about that idea and I'm meeting these people who are visual artists, for example. I’m a storyteller, I feel as though I just trace what I see or feel. And then you have people who bring it to a different level, that see or hear. So then all of a sudden, it imprints our senses in different ways, and these perspectives—this is what art allows, to give life in different ways. And that’s what I’m working towards, to have many, many different hands and ears and eyes and tastes that engage with these stories. My hope is that in playing, in engaging with, in bringing them back into body, back into telling, inviting other artists to play with them, to visualize something of what they are, it reaches us. And that we can reconnect to something or connect to something. And these stories have always been about connection, right? They tell the story of the origin, much later, right? So, so they weren’t all created at the same time. And so, these stories have been doing this work of connecting.

Rwanda went through a genocide in 1994. And the genocide wasn’t the first time that there was an attempt to exterminate that people. I think that when you squash the stories, and the value of everything that comes before, it’s a way of killing, of eroding a people. And so I think that is what I’m wanting to value. When I want to wake these stories, I’m valuing what is of us, and I want us to stand as one people.

Interviewee

Lisa Ndejuru

Director & Editor

Abdurahman Hussain

Director of Photography

Nick Jewell

Creative Direction

Peter Farbridge and Crystal Chan

Music

Unicorn Heads; The Mini Vandals featuring Mamadou Koita and Lasso

images

Courtesy of Lisa Ndejuru

Do We Own Stories, or Do Stories Own Us?

Do We Own Stories, or Do Stories Own Us?

Interview with Lisa Ndejuru

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My name is Lisa, daughter of Aimable, son of Pierre Claver, Mwene (which means “son of”) Ngwije, Mwene Karenzi, Mwene Gitondo, Mwene Karorero, Mwene Kivunangoma, Mwene Rwiru, Mwene Murahire, Mwene Nknogoli, Mwene Makara, Mwene Kiramira, Mwene Mucuzi, Mwene Nyantabana, Mwene Gahenda, Mwene Bugirande, Mwene Ngoga, Mwene Gihinira, Mwene Makara, Mwene Gahutu, Mwene Sergwega, Mwene Mututsi, and Mwene Kigwa.

These are stories of a nation, of a people. That I should be taking it upon myself to engage with these stories: who am I to do that? At the same time, for so many people these stories are obsolete, irrelevant. What do they speak of?

Rwanda’s culture is an oral culture. And so they were held in bodies. Families held pieces of these stories like knowledge keepers. They would pass them on from generation to generation. These were called Ibitekerezo, from the verb gutekereza, which means “stories to think with.” They were used in court to shed light on situations. To remember. They were transcribed from 1957 to 1961, by this colonial researcher called Jan Vansina, and they are now known as the Vansina collection. That’s how they’re held in the archive.

I was born in Rwanda, but I was raised in Germany, and then here in Tiohtià:ke, Montreal. And so the stories that I was raised with were Little Red Riding Hood, and The Three Little Pigs, and all those kinds of stories. And I never knew stories that were of me or that I was of. I’m wondering what it does to engage with these stories today, in contemporary times, and to play with them creatively. What are we claiming when we’re claiming Indigeneity? Legitimacy? In the name of what are we willing to do what? So those are ways to think, with the stories and the art making.

“That’s what I’m working towards, to have many, many different hands and ears and eyes and tastes that engage with these stories.”

When I’m thinking with young Black artists, Rwandan artists, the questions become different. Do we own the stories? Do the stories own us? We don’t know. But there’s something about that idea and I'm meeting these people who are visual artists, for example. I’m a storyteller, I feel as though I just trace what I see or feel. And then you have people who bring it to a different level, that see or hear. So then all of a sudden, it imprints our senses in different ways, and these perspectives—this is what art allows, to give life in different ways. And that’s what I’m working towards, to have many, many different hands and ears and eyes and tastes that engage with these stories. My hope is that in playing, in engaging with, in bringing them back into body, back into telling, inviting other artists to play with them, to visualize something of what they are, it reaches us. And that we can reconnect to something or connect to something. And these stories have always been about connection, right? They tell the story of the origin, much later, right? So, so they weren’t all created at the same time. And so, these stories have been doing this work of connecting.

Rwanda went through a genocide in 1994. And the genocide wasn’t the first time that there was an attempt to exterminate that people. I think that when you squash the stories, and the value of everything that comes before, it’s a way of killing, of eroding a people. And so I think that is what I’m wanting to value. When I want to wake these stories, I’m valuing what is of us, and I want us to stand as one people.

Lisa Ndejuru

My name is Lisa, daughter of Aimable, son of Pierre Claver, Mwene (which means “son of”) Ngwije, Mwene Karenzi, Mwene Gitondo, Mwene Karorero, Mwene Kivunangoma, Mwene Rwiru, Mwene Murahire, Mwene Nknogoli, Mwene Makara, Mwene Kiramira, Mwene Mucuzi, Mwene Nyantabana, Mwene Gahenda, Mwene Bugirande, Mwene Ngoga, Mwene Gihinira, Mwene Makara, Mwene Gahutu, Mwene Sergwega, Mwene Mututsi, and Mwene Kigwa.

These are stories of a nation, of a people. That I should be taking it upon myself to engage with these stories: who am I to do that? At the same time, for so many people these stories are obsolete, irrelevant. What do they speak of?

Rwanda’s culture is an oral culture. And so they were held in bodies. Families held pieces of these stories like knowledge keepers. They would pass them on from generation to generation. These were called Ibitekerezo, from the verb gutekereza, which means “stories to think with.” They were used in court to shed light on situations. To remember. They were transcribed from 1957 to 1961, by this colonial researcher called Jan Vansina, and they are now known as the Vansina collection. That’s how they’re held in the archive.

I was born in Rwanda, but I was raised in Germany, and then here in Tiohtià:ke, Montreal. And so the stories that I was raised with were Little Red Riding Hood, and The Three Little Pigs, and all those kinds of stories. And I never knew stories that were of me or that I was of. I’m wondering what it does to engage with these stories today, in contemporary times, and to play with them creatively. What are we claiming when we’re claiming Indigeneity? Legitimacy? In the name of what are we willing to do what? So those are ways to think, with the stories and the art making.

“That’s what I’m working towards, to have many, many different hands and ears and eyes and tastes that engage with these stories.”

When I’m thinking with young Black artists, Rwandan artists, the questions become different. Do we own the stories? Do the stories own us? We don’t know. But there’s something about that idea and I'm meeting these people who are visual artists, for example. I’m a storyteller, I feel as though I just trace what I see or feel. And then you have people who bring it to a different level, that see or hear. So then all of a sudden, it imprints our senses in different ways, and these perspectives—this is what art allows, to give life in different ways. And that’s what I’m working towards, to have many, many different hands and ears and eyes and tastes that engage with these stories. My hope is that in playing, in engaging with, in bringing them back into body, back into telling, inviting other artists to play with them, to visualize something of what they are, it reaches us. And that we can reconnect to something or connect to something. And these stories have always been about connection, right? They tell the story of the origin, much later, right? So, so they weren’t all created at the same time. And so, these stories have been doing this work of connecting.

Rwanda went through a genocide in 1994. And the genocide wasn’t the first time that there was an attempt to exterminate that people. I think that when you squash the stories, and the value of everything that comes before, it’s a way of killing, of eroding a people. And so I think that is what I’m wanting to value. When I want to wake these stories, I’m valuing what is of us, and I want us to stand as one people.

Lisa Ndejuru

Interviewee

Lisa Ndejuru

Director & Editor

Abdurahman Hussain

Director of Photography

Nick Jewell

Creative Direction

Peter Farbridge and Crystal Chan

Music

Unicorn Heads; The Mini Vandals featuring Mamadou Koita and Lasso

images

Courtesy of Lisa Ndejuru

Ancestors
Memory
Courage
Transmission
All
Ancestors
Disruption
Vulnerability
Curiosity
Expansion
Disruption
Care
Vulnerability
Edge
Curiosity
Care
Courage
Curiosity
Opening
Expansion
Memory
Courage
Curiosity
Kinetic
Expansion
Elusiveness
Ancestors
Invitation
Transmission
All
Disruption
Courage
Opening
Meditation
All
Absence
Elusiveness
Ancestors
Memory
Vulnerability
Care
Vulnerability
Invitation
Corporeal
Meditation
Disruption
Vulnerability
Impulse
Kinetic
Corporeal
Opening
Corporeal
Organic
Transmission
Expansion
Absence
Ancestors
Courage
Organic
All
Elusiveness
Vulnerability
Immersion
Corporeal
All
Disruption
Elusiveness
Ancestors
Edge
Transmission
Disruption
Elusiveness
Care
Corporeal
All
Elusiveness
Impulse
Invitation
Immersion
Meditation
Elusiveness
Curiosity
Corporeal
Transmission
All
Disruption
Memory
Impulse
Curiosity
Expansion
Elusiveness
Opening
Organic
Meditation
All
Elusiveness
Ancestors
Memory
Invitation
Transmission
Elusiveness
Immersion
Expansion
All
Absence
Ancestors
Courage
Immersion
All
Disruption
Invitation
Immersion
Organic
Transmission
Care
Vulnerability
Curiosity
Transmission
All
Memory
Impulse
Immersion
Transmission
All
Care
Edge
Corporeal
Expansion
All
Elusiveness
Memory
Care
Courage
Vulnerability
Ancestors
Vulnerability
Corporeal
Transmission
Expansion
Care
Courage
Invitation
Transmission
Ancestors
Courage
Immersion
Corporeal
Organic
Absence
Disruption
Impulse
Edge
Kinetic
Memory
Elusiveness
Vulnerability
Meditation
Kinetic
Ancestors
Courage
Disruption
Opening
All
Memory
Care
Corporeal
Meditation
Expansion
Absence
Ancestors
Memory
Edge
Expansion
Ancestors
Opening
Invitation
Curiosity
Expansion
Disruption
Ancestors
Invitation
Curiosity
All
Ancestors
Curiosity
Kinetic
Transmission
Expansion
Absence
Elusiveness
Vulnerability
Edge
Meditation
Ancestors
Care
Curiosity
Meditation
All
Absence
Disruption
Opening
Transmission
All
Disruption
Care
Kinetic
Transmission
All
Memory
Curiosity
Kinetic
Corporeal
Meditation
Care
Vulnerability
Edge
Opening
Corporeal
Absence
Memory
Invitation
Transmission
All
Disruption
Elusiveness
Courage
Edge
Expansion
Ancestors
Memory
Care
Courage
Transmission
Absence
Memory
Edge
Curiosity
Immersion
Elusiveness
Impulse
Curiosity
Kinetic
Transmission
Impulse
Opening
Organic
All
Disruption
Care
Opening
Transmission
All
Disruption
Ancestors
Care
Impulse
All
Absence
Memory
Opening
Immersion
Meditation
Disruption
Courage
Impulse
Edge
Organic
Ancestors
Memory
Invitation
Meditation
Expansion
Invitation
Curiosity
Immersion
Corporeal
Organic
Ancestors
Vulnerability
Invitation
Organic
Meditation
Ancestors
Care
Invitation
Organic
Meditation
Corporeal
Kinetic
Meditation
Transmission
All