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< Back Treading a line 15 Aug 2020 Sarah Bushra Mekbib Tadesse Emperor Menelik IIPhotographer: Mekbib Tadesse On June 30, the second day after protests broke out in Addis Ababa, and following the assassination of the Oromo people’s cultural icon and musician, Hacaaluu Hundeessaa, the streets in 4 kilo – a government district where Parliament, the Prime Minister’s office, and the Palace seats are located – were quiet and still. A stark contrast to the day before. Occasional voices broke out, echoing between low rise buildings and across the relatively wide-set street before falling onto our ears: “they are coming, they are coming.” A warning call, to which the sparse occupants of the street responded by readying themselves, brandishing sticks of all varieties, alert and equipped to ward off the belligerent youth from advancing towards the city center. Oromo is the largest ethnic group and historically marginalized community in Ethiopia. In 2016, a youth movement emerged by the name Qero , meaning “young unmarried men,” to claim political power and overthrow the hegemonic cultural and social structure. In the recent protests, the Amhara ethnic group were the intended targets of stone pelting, violent killings, and the burning and bashing of businesses, for being Neftegna . This word literally translates to “riflemen,” but has recently became synonymous to “colonizer,” referencing Ethiopia’s long-standing Imperial rule – spanning over ten centuries, with predominantly North Ethiopian Emperors (Amhara and Tigray) governing a system which favored them as landowners. When the protests began on June 29, a morning after artist, Hacaaluu Hundessaa was murdered, the Oromo youth headed to the Ghiorgis Roundabout in Addis Ababa, to topple over the statue of Emperor Menelik II – depicted gracefully riding a horse, a symbol of oppression for the Oromo resistance. As novice beneficiaries of the freedom of expression (or its illusions), as a community, many Ethiopians still stutter when trying to exercise it. Mistaking their newly found liberty for supremacy, most of those who have found a platform to voice their criticism – either on social media or on public forums – have veered to a language of hate. This new mode of communication has morphed the meanings of words that were previously harmless attributes of ethnic identities, to triggers of emotional and physical turmoil. It was particularly difficult for me, a millennial with no vested interest in politics, to reflect on the recent unrests taking place all over Ethiopia. Primarily because I had insulated myself from Ethiopian political discourse, falsely assuming its ethnic-based linings were somebody else’s concern. Politics here refers to governance, and the racket among parties as they contest for ruling power. Having grown up in an environment where such politics is discussed in hushed tones (if ever), I had neither the language nor the insight to comb through the nuances that led to the current turn of events. But when hurled into the conflict, unsuspecting and without pretext, I couldn’t escape its confrontational reality. Following the consequences of the pandemic, I immersed myself in the online world, embracing the changes openly and with vigilance. On the 29th of June, when the network connectivity stopped working, I imagined I had simply run out of my package and went to the nearest telecom office to top-up my card. On my way there, a friend called to warn me to stay at home upon rumors of protests breaking out, incited by the murder of Hacaalluu. A lot of people in my network also had their first warning call from a family member or a friend. These types of oral stories becomes the only source of information when the government shuts down the internet for three weeks. Someone who knows someone, who has a friend living in Shashemene, says his neighbor’s house was burnt down. There is something mythical about the way these kinds of stories circulate, with a tint of otherworldliness that at times comforts, and other times, terrifies. Mass media coverage during the time of the protest was no exception to the theatrics of mysticism. Radios and TVs chimed with an endless instrumental tune, with the latter accompanied by images of Hacaaluu superimposed with a picture of a burning candle. Keguro Macharia, a Kenyan literary scholar, tweets about the benefits of myths in times of collective duress. Referring particularly to the pandemic and the power of myths to alleviate the pressure from a lack of economic means within certain communities, where factually incorrect narratives circulate, he exemplifies this claim with: “ ‘black tea helps against the virus,’ might help cope with a reduced capacity to buy milk…” Ethiopian Prime Minister, Dr. Abiy Ahmed, seems to think along the same lines when addressing the public on the day of Haccaaluu Hundeesaa’s assassination, citing the popular myth of “Sene ena Segno” – that Mondays in the month of June (Sené, the tenth month in Ethiopian Calendar), are prone to host unfortunate incidents. Perhaps implying it’s not particularly the moral decadence of society that resulted in the death of 239 people, and the loss of billions in birr, but rather, an unescapable fate set up within this popular myth. Nguigi wa Thing’o writes in his introduction to Hama Tuma’s The Case of the Socialist Witch-Doctor and Other Stories saying: “Ethiopia is the land of myths.” He admires the stories in the following pages (which were all set during Ethiopia’s Red Terror period) for their particular poignancy – propped as vignettes, unassuming of the mist in which they exist – simply framing their peculiar reality in minute details. The most wide-spread accounts of protests were unencumbered by context or the burden of proof, leaving it up to the audience to interpret and arrive at the underlining meaning. As I tried to grapple my way for a sound strand of narrative within this haze, I remembered Konjit Seyoum and her practice of reading a line. She’s simultaneously an artist and artisan – weaving stories that unravel from the multiverse of her lived experiences, as the movement of her hands materialize a thin white line from a nebulous cloud of cotton. It is this line that delineates the embodied from the performed identity. This line which borders the surge of young men who flood the streets, between those of us on the sidelines pacing in agitation, wavering between clemency and anger. It is this thin, intricate line that separates the myths from the facts, the tales from historical accounts. I finally found a friend to accompany me to the telecom, still unaware that it was in fact the government who had shut down the internet. We walked up the streets and suddenly came face to face with the stampede of wide-eyed young men, holding heavy-duty sticks, unmistakably handled as weapons. In a traditional dance of the Oromo people, the men sport a sturdy stick, much in the same way as the men in front of us did. I remembered the dancer standing next to me: as he once struggled to learn this dance, teeth clenched, sweat beads trickling, launching the stick up and down to the rhythm of a heavy staccato breathing. Filmed by Sarah Bushra Dancer: Dawit Seto Location: Fekat Circus August 2020 Addis Ababa Sarah Bushra is a multi-disciplinary artist based in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, working primarily with a hybrid of text and images. Previous Next

Events 2022 2021 2020 2019 2018 Future Light: or is A New Enlightenment Worth Considering? | Maria Lind Comradeship: Curating Art, and Politics in Post-Socialist Europe | Zdenka Badovinac What Could/Should the Institution Do? | Ares Shporta < Participants Educational Program Programs >

Events Lecture Series Participant Activities On WCSCD educational programme Collective reflections This conversation with What Could Should Curating Do (WCSCD) education programme participants happened in June 2024, during the final part of the 2023/24 education programme. The conversation took place in the rural (the village of Gornja Gorevnica, in central Serbia), as we spent one of the last weeks of the programme together in the WCSCD pedagogical centre.The heat challenged our abilities to focus and to be present during this discussion — the conversation was recorded as temperatures reached 35 degrees celsius in the shade. Writer Toby Üpson, who has been following the programme during its transition over the year, initiated the conversation with questions. Program participants Anna Ilchenko, Asida Butba, Andrey Parshikov, mentor Luigi Coppola and intern Min Chengxiang were present and took part in this conversation. Program participant Laura Rositani wasn't with us during the last visit to the rural. Her responses were introduced to this text later, as the conversation was being transcribed. Overall the conversation tries to reflect on the programme's focus and the embodiment of knowledge. WCSCD’s educational programme was established in 2018, mostly situated in Belgrade. It is an international programme for artists and curators. Having these two positions, curatorial and artistic, in close proximity is very important for WCSCD; in many places that lack an art infrastructure, these positions constantly merge, complement and support one another. The WCSCD educational programme has been a testing ground for creating a collective learning site, a space to think about how to institute differently. The central place of the educational programme in WCSCD’s activities has been vital to the institution; the programme has helped guide us, creating a space to collectively consider many practical questions as well as to think about our future. Biljana Ciric (BC): It’s the 21st of June 2024. Toby, Asida, Andrey, Anna, Luigi, Min, and myself are present. I think it's a good moment to reflect. Toby has some questions which I found interesting and I felt we could think about these together. Toby Üpson (TU): To start off, my first question is really broad and very subjective. The premise of the education programme this year, and its leading question was, what does it mean for an arts institution to become the custodian of land? So, that guiding question automatically implies that the programme is focused around the arts institution and its organisation beyond the programme. In that sense, as participants, I was wondering what and how have you ‘gained’ from the programme — to use a word I don't like —, or at least how have you experienced this process? Asida Butba (AB): You mean in relation to how through knowing our background, what sort of meaning we put into custodianship as a practice, as a way of thinking? TÜ: I think more generally. You signed up and applied to an education programme which is very, very specific. How do you think this process has formed you, if it has formed you, and what have you learned, if anything at all? Anna Ilchenko (AI): Or unlearned. TÜ: Indeed. AI: I was curious about the idea of custodianship, carrying in a larger sense, because of how this word operates in different contexts, in relation to Australian Indigenous communities for example. And how to practise different cultural strategies in order to have a more inclusive society, that sort of thing. I was curious to see whether this situation could somehow be applicable to other contexts. I mean as an experiment, an experimental educational, not practise per se but a condition. It was interesting not just to see but also to practise it [— custodianship]. Of course, I'm oversimplifying because it was purely a kind of artificial, I would say, laboratory situation. But I was curious to see how it could work. Do I know whether it works or if it can be universal, that sort of a strategy? I wouldn't say that I have a clear understanding of how this could be, these ideas come from engaging with knowledges from indigenous communities from other parts of the world. So this is still an open question for me. AB: My motivation to apply was more related to a question of alternative ways of instituting, since I’m organising a space myself that's something that I've been curious about. What are these methods, you know, especially when starting something from scratch with no infrastructural backing, where there’s not a lot of resources to build either or you have to inherit the resources. To me, that was what I found interesting. I'm not sure that the things I learned have anything to do with custodianship of the land. TÜ: How do you think you could apply what you have experienced with the programme to your daily practice? AI: I think that my experience of the programme has been very different. I would say that it fluctuated between inspiration and thoughts you apply to your work directly, but which also have a kind of vagueness or intuitiveness where it's not clear what's going on, where it's not clear how or what the result is going to be. It is an open process. And that's a huge thing. I can go on forever about this and what I can take from this. Andrey Parshikov (AP): After documenta14 I was interested in how and what the connection is between cultural production and the production of goods or food or something like that. I had never thought about that. Second, I never thought about these groups, those who are going into the woods and making something there, who are connected to the land and so on. ‘Land’ was not in my vocabulary as a contemporary practitioner. So it was out of this curiosity that I applied. I learned a lot from the tutors about how artistic value could add something to the production of food and now I understand better all these artists from documenta14, like what their artistic practice is, where their art is and how it works. Laura Rositani (LR): I can certainly relate to Asida's response. My initial motivation for applying was driven by a desire to reconsider my approach to curating, especially in light of my recent learnings. I was and still am particularly interested in exploring more ecological and caring methods of curating. This experience has prompted me to ask many questions: how can I curate a show without artworks? One of the most valuable lessons I've learned is the importance of the process over the material object. The programme made me rethink the methodologies and phenomenologies of new spaces, developing a critical eye and embracing failure sometimes. This was a new experience for me: I've come to realise that the current ‘likes culture’ may not be conducive to learning. This experience has pushed me to think outside of the box and challenge my assumptions. The opportunity to interact with such a diverse and talented group of people from around the world has made me realise how often I limit my view to my own bubble; being with the WCSCD group was enriching. TÜ: It sounds like you all approached the programme with a level of curiosity, an interest you wanted to learn more about. Is it right to say that you've become more knowledgeable about these things? AI: I have implemented the things I learned through the programme in a recent show. Not everything worked but at least this is just something that I felt I could naturally implement both as a curatorial strategy and also as a way to challenge the idea of how to engage with Indigenous context in Russia because these have their own layers of complexity, much more twisted than could be imagined. The exhibition talks about the earth as a political, economic and spiritual agent; we worked with a group of researchers from Yakutia, because of their relationship with the land and their understanding of its purpose as a support system. TÜ: Sounds like there was a knowledge transfer at a simple level taking place. AI: Yeah, I've never done anything before like that. AB: I’ll say there has been an expansion of how I understand what I want to do and what I want to do in the near future. Some of the issues we've discussed here, regarding the land, and some of the readings, give me a sense of the possibilities of what I could do in the environment I work in. Thinking about where I work, I was asking myself what is this? I don't quite understand because I was born in Russia; there are some things I really don't grasp enough and that I have no clue why they work like this. For example, there are activist groups uniting around land-based issues and they are really strong. Young people in their early 20ies have this gut feeling that this is our land, we're not giving it to anybody and so on. I can relate to that. I also work with an indigenous population, in a place where half of the population lives in the rural, it's basically a Caucasus tribe, one living in an unrecognised state [— Abhazia], and I’m actually working with some of these people now, on future programmes for the space I organise. TÜ: How useful was it to have the programme so focused on the rural, and not just in terms of curiosity, in terms of the reality of the situation? In other words, why choose an education programme with no aircon! when you could have been in a library? AP: I didn't want to read books. I wanted to be in dialogue with others and this was a good opportunity for that, an opportunity to learn from other professionals and not from the books, it's always better that way. BC: An embodied experience? AP: Yes, yes, an embodied experience, exactly! AB: It is also all those conversations had beyond the workshops, beyond the presentations and the lectures. For me, these were the spaces for the most fruitful discussions. They were also part of that educational process, for me anyway, and that's why it's important for everybody to be together in a situation like this. Luigi Coppola (LC): After this year, do you think there is a specific category that you can confine to the rural? Is it a specific category for curators or art context to engage with? Do you think there is a specific way of working in this context? AP: Of course, you need to be brave enough to do that. I mean doing an exhibition is one thing and creating the space for rural within contemporary production is another, that’s very different from a traditional art institution. LC: I don't think there is this categorisation. I think it's more a methodology or way to engage with an issue. I don't see the distinction because I don't find a big difference in terms of how the society is built. If we say we have the institution in the city or that an urban area is more educated to the art context what does it mean? Because there are so many rurals; I ema we talk about marginal places, peripheric places, indigenous places, and we categorise everything as a rural place. What we think of as rural is the space for the production of food but it's much more than this. Urban contexts are now also producing food maybe, more than you know. I live in a place where nobody is cultivating anymore there is no attachment to the land, and the people are living exactly with the same trauma, the same mechanism in the city, maybe missing some things in the city, but there is no difference in the way they are educated, they create society, they create a relation. In every context that I've been in, I'm not able to create a category and I don't feel I fit in this idea of rural art, rural artist. I feel all this construction around contemporary art is completely fake, and I don't find this categorisation worth the discussion to be honest, so I try when it's possible to destroy this because I don't feel it's for me. There are so many things that it's more interesting for me to talk about: methodology, engagement, connecting, the way to connect, the way to create, the way to act, the way to practise. We need to talk about situated practice and every time we are in a place we need to discover a methodology for this. AP: It's not about the context. It's very raw. I mean here there is no audience. There is no nothing. There is no… LC: And it is rural? AP: Of course. LC: But it's not part of urban-rural. We can go to many places in the city that are rawer than this. We can go into favelas and we can find people who are very raw. I can show you some raw context in the city. AP: Of course. I'm sorry, but I'm working in a museum. In a museum there is an audience, there is an infrastructure, there is everything. LC: Yeah, but this is an art institution. It's not rural. It's not a question of rural and not rural. AP: But we're building institutions, right? Or alternative institutions. So that's why I'm comparing it to. TÜ: I think it might be useful to reframe a way of thinking. You're in the programme, you're researching, how useful is it to have a specific, project-based, situation like this? To have this institutional project alongside the education programme’s research and the conversations? AI: I think it's very useful. Actually, I really loved this experience here in the village. Also all the rawness that Andrey mentions. Because you're trying to do something and you see the reality of what is really happening. You ask yourself and everyone else more questions, and I think that this is an extremely useful process. The first aspect of the programme was more of a scenery, like all the workshops and so on framed our thinking. I felt that the second part, engaging with this rural context, really required closer engagement with the people who have an understanding of how this place functions, maybe knowing the language. BC: I think that it's interesting that you mentioned this because it's something that I’m thinking deeply about. The majority of the physical programme happened in Belgrade, in a very urban setting. But it's fascinating that when we talk about the programme, we talk about the rural experience. It's very sensorial being together here, living together, eating together, cooking together… AP: Taking showers together… BC: Taking showers together… This experience creates a different bond within the group. This compliments the notion of learning as everyday practice. Figuring out these dynamics interests me; so too, hearing about how our experiences together, in the rural, has left an impression on you. Before moving to the rural we did a methodological preparation. For that we thought about positioning: how do you position yourself as a practitioner, etc., etc. We focused our research with case studies on rural practices from across the Balkans, undertaking a number of field trips to understand these histories and contexts. It was very important that you understood that there were practitioners before us and, like us, that they tried to decenter artistic work. Through this historical research, we learnt where the problems with these practices were, what the struggles were. Indeed, Whilst on our research trips we could actually taste the bitterness of these practices as we encountered their ruins, deepening our thinking about what and how we could learn from these practitioners. So yes, for me it's really interesting to hear how powerful our stay in this rural context was for you, I mean for me as well. AP: We keep forgetting about the part of the programme dedicated to the margins, to the people who went out of the system. This was very important for me as well. When I was living in Moscow I was researching different types of secs, all the case studies and communes we visited resonated with this research, especially in relation to spirituality. LR: To me the situation we experienced in the rural was not that new but still it was challenging. I am not used to sharing the same space with several people for ten days but I believe this brought me to new awareness of myself as a person and as curator. It made me think about the importance of time and slowness: it takes time to get in touch with a community, to take care of it and to come up with something valuable created together. TÜ: Do you think you've gone through a process of unlearning? AI: I wouldn't say ‘what have you unlearned’ is the best question. On a very practical level, I had this knowledge in me already. It's been there since I was a child, I would wash the dishes the same way as you, but I have forgotten all this knowledge after living most of my life in cities. So here the unlearning was more of a case of going backwards, mentally, and unpacking some of the things already embedded within me but which lie latent and unused, like riding a bicycle essentially. TÜ: When I say unlearning I don't just mean bookish knowledge, I mean body-knowledge too. AB: Yes and learning how your body's being socialised. AI: I felt this when we were working with Petra [Pavleka], physically thinking about biodiversity and how to implement this; you took a shovel and your body already knew what to do because you've done it so many times, so this is what I’m saying, it's like riding a bicycle. Growing up I was much more experienced living in the countryside — even though it's a very complex relationship for me because I grew up in the 90s — we had to know how to grow vegetables so we could have food on the table. Being a child you don’t want to go through with this labour, you want to be a kid not planting potatoes. So the rural can be a dark place in some way and that is why I hesitate to go back to something. There were moments of joy, of course, and moments of learning; my grandmother was so knowledgeable about countryside life and I would learn a lot from her. So, for me, an inter-generational relationship and knowledge also resurfaced here. And this is another thing that I asked Luigi when we were having discussion in the autumn; coming from a post-socialist context, for me, it's going back to the countryside and means going back to its models of producing food. I can remember after school or during the summer we would cultivate potatoes for free. Obviously, it was not ‘common wealth for god's sake’ , this was essentially exploitation. For me, this experience surfaces all those complexities. It makes me question the means of labour, its distribution across a labour force as well as all the power dynamics in place or that were in place. TU: I'm very interested in bodily knowledge. You've all grown up, gone down a specific route, normally followed an institutional pathway or a particular curatorial mode of thinking, becoming socialised to that way of working. I am interested to know if you have started thinking about and unthinking how you've been socialised. AB: I mean I can totally relate to Anna regarding the activation of forgotten parts of myself, like washing the dishes or taking a shower or enjoying the view from the window of the toilet. I know these things instinctively, some are active in my present life and others need to be reactivated. I was never really socialised in a... I mean, I do not come from an institution. BC: It's more grass roots. AB: Yeah, I'm not cultivated. I'm just grass root. Just grass. TÜ: Sorry to jump in and to directly ask about your artist space, is the logic you follow to organise this the same logic as the ‘big boy’ institutions? ie, applying for the same pots of funding. I would like to think about this experience in relation to alternative institutional models. AB: Despite my curiosity in alternative methodologies, to organise my space I currently apply to ‘normal’ funding streams. For me, this is the only thing that works honestly. I haven't figured out any other strategy and I don't think that looking at this programme I can see any other strategies that are immediately available to provide me with sustainability. To pursue an alternative system, in my context, I feel I would need to quit whatever I’m doing with my art space and spend two years or more researching alternative strategies. And this is not what I want to do. Our resources in Abhazia are scarce and I’m trying to learn how to do what I do better with these limitations. BC: Can I ask where you think the curatorial is here? AP: While you are creating you are cultivating something or are taking care of something probably. Trying to introduce alternative means of production into cultural institutions that have very traditional and conservative ways of working it's already something curatorial, even thinking about this and thinking about how to do this is curatorial. AB: I think there should be a certain sensitivity to the people we meet in rural areas. For me the curatorial would be to engage more, to try to enter from different angles, to experiment with different means of engagement and to see how people respond. AI: For me it's also about people first, finding people to have conversations with. But also, there is a necessity to care about this place. BC: I have a last question. If the field of curatorial is constituted by the questions we can ask, What is the one question that you would ask after experiencing all the hardship? LC: I'm not sure that the curatorial is constituted by the questions you ask. It's about the care that you put into things, be this an economic thought or the ecology of people. A question isn’t the starting point but a practice. AI: For me, the question, as a cultural practitioner, is about the idea of holistic unity. AB: Maybe my question would be how to create a space that could be productive for listening or how to create a space where everyone present could have a sense of the other or the unknown. LR: More than a question, mine is a thought and again it’s about time and what Luigi called the ecology of people. Working on margins and working on communities requires a lot of time spent on site and with people. < Mentors Educational Program How to Apply >

< Back Infrastructuring the Region: Fieldnotes of an Ongoing Research 26 Nov 2020 Jelica Jovanović Infrastructure is often described in terms of the (non)presence and physicality of pipes and routes – those grand linear structures of spatial and resource connectivity: highways, railways, sewage, heating, aqueducts. These structures often go either below or along the very surface of the ground. But to look beyond the narrow, technical definition of infrastructural thought in engineering classes, infrastructure can also be a network of buildings such as health centers, schools, green markets, and similar amenities which make everyday life possible, and are often the embodiment of (what should be) the social policy and/or safety net. However, the relational and temporal aspects of the infrastructure are much more interesting, especially in case of Serbia, whose economy is going through its third decade of restructuring and shrinking, rooted in a transition from a socialist to capitalist economy. It goes hand in hand with privatization of most of the industry, public property, and services. Infrastructure(s) are the latest large-size serving on the privatization plate of Serbia, with many concessions given and many foreign loans taken, for the reconstruction of existing [infrastructure], and the construction of the new ones. Furthermore, most of the viable state-owned companies have been sold, leaving the [country’s] resources as the next major stop for privatization – there are many foreign companies currently taking over the mines and quarries, or undertaking explorations of potential mines all over the country. The next step of the research will further expand why these resources and companies are important for the economy of Serbia, and their historical role in the 20th and 21st century. But for now, let’s focus on the recent concessions and privatizations in Serbia that involve the partners from PR China. Within the last three years, as the Belt and Road initiative was announced (and is already beginning to materialise), Chinese companies have appeared to be quite interested in the country’s greatest pieces of industry and traffic infrastructure, which – due to their size – have also accumulated significant debt, and lags behind contemporary practices [1] . However, it is interesting to compare the present-day strategy of Chinese companies with the historical strategies and goals of the post-war renewal and reorganization of the Yugoslav economy, since the same companies are at the centre of both of those processes. In December 2019, the exhibition Serbia 2019 – the year of infrastructure: Nothing is far away anymore was opened in the Palace of Serbia by the highest state and government officials. The exhibition is praising many of the ongoing and planned traffic infrastructural investments in Serbia, the most substantial and expensive ones being financed with loans from the government of the People’s Republic of China. Half an hour for a journey between Novi Sad and Belgrade is allegedly expected to already happen by September 2021 – this would be a step up from the usual hour and a half (or more) the journey currently takes, as malfunctions stand as the usual occurrence. The same goes for the railways towards Niš and the southern border of Serbia. The announced driving speed should be around 200km/h (which would be faster than the highway) meaning that the travel time would be around 2 hours instead of over 4. Both routes of the railway will be reconstructed by the China Road and Bridge Corporation (CRBC) and is scheduled to start in 2021. The appearance of Chinese companies in Serbia – and other Balkan countries for that matter – raised some brows. Serbia is a small country, classified as upper middle income by the World bank, but with quite a high public debt, reaching up to more than 50% of the nation’s GDP [2] . Serbia is therefore maintaining good relations with foreign diplomatic representatives, and seeking economic collaboration from all over the world, diversifying its sources of investments and loans. Serbia is even reviving some old alliances/friendships from the period of Non-Aligned Yugoslavia – which is often problematic from the perspective of the European Union (EU), due to the country’s proclaimed accession to the Union. Meanwhile, the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development is loaning money to Srbija voz to purchase new locomotives “as a part of [the] transition to [a] green economy”, while the World Bank gave a loan to finish the E75 highway. An agreement has also been signed with the Russian company, RZD International , for the reconstruction of the railway to Bar in Montenegro, with an estimated deadline for the documentation preparation of the remaining 200km somewhere vaguely in 2021. In December 2019, Serbia Cargo started transporting cargo from the Port of Bar in Montenegro to ZiJin in Bor, Serbia. ZiJin Mining is a multinational mining group situated in China, which purchased 63% of the stocks of the Mining and Smelting Basin Bor (RTB Bor) in 2019, establishing a joint-stock company, Serbia Zijin Copper Doo Bor, for a period of 30 years. Apparently, this shipment from Montenegro was the first shipment (of many to come) of copper ore imported from Spain. At the moment, it is unclear whether the Montenegrin authorities will proceed with the planned privatization of the Port Bar [3] . Maybe China Ocean Shipping (Group) Company (COSCO) will step into the game, as many analysts have estimated, to secure the access to another Mediterranean port, as it is already the major stockholder of the Piraeus Port in Greece. The construction of the railroad through Serbia begun in the mid-19th century. It was the first major piece of infrastructure built in this small Balkan state. According to the Treaty signed during the Congress of Berlin in 1878, Serbia, among other countries, had agreed to build the railroad from Belgrade to the town of Vranje on the southern border as a part of the route connecting Central Europe with the Middle East. The first ceremonial train of the Belgrade-Niš line departed on September 4, 1884. Regular traffic on this route began on September 15, 1884, and Serbian Railways celebrate that day every year as Railway Day [4] . Even today, this is Serbia’s main traffic corridor, which remains the most vital transportation route of the country, enforced by the much later addition and integration into the highway E-75/Corridor 10 system, which connects the north and south of Europe. This corridor goes from Vardø in Finland’s north to the Sitia port in the south of Greece, connecting many other towns and cities along the way: Helsinki, Gdansk, Katowice, Bratislava, Budapest, Belgrade, Skopje, Thessaloniki, and Athens [5] . However, not everyone is as enthusiastic: “Soon, that railroad will be the only thing left in Serbia,” was one of many comments below an article reporting on the fast tracks from Belgrade to Novi Sad, testifying to a sense of disenfranchisement felt by the citizens of Serbia because – the way they see it – the “family silverware” is being sold off as the country continues to become more and more indebted. This railroad (together with the highway E75) is a part of Pan-European Corridor 10, which connects European north and south, from Finland to Greece, and is being restored by the China Road and Bridge Corporation (CRBC) – some of it for the first time in 70 years. Some of the train stations are also being refreshed with new wall paint, railings, furniture, and pavement. Furthermore, there are other reasons for the concern, but mainly regarding the way local authorities are handling the situation. Impeding the implementation of the reconstruction project, all the unresolved problems that have accumulated over decades are being too hastily dealt with, causing other problems in the long run. For example, independent organizations dealing with the right to housing and challenging evictions, have recently raised the issue of the displacement of the railways’ workers who were given the accommodation in the railway guards, along the railway line from Zemun Polje to Batajnica [6] . The actors of this entire process is former Serbian Railways public company, which now has split jurisdiction with the newly founded companies, who paradoxically, are all in the same building: Serbian Railways, Infrastructure of Railways Serbia, Serbia Cargo, Museum of Railways, Traffic Institute CIP – but it seems that there is no communication between them. Furthermore, all these entities are public property, answering to the Government of Serbia. The havoc caused on the sites of railway reconstruction in Serbia testifies to the disorganization and lack of communication between these (public) entities. 11 families in 35m2, a report by the activists of ZA Krov nad glavom (FOR the Roof Above Our Heads) organization. The families living near the railway that is being reconstructed are forced to move, without the state providing a replacement housing. Source: https://youtu.be/2Yz-gZ9aU_A Main railway station in Bor 2020. Credit: Jelica Jovanović Main railway station in Bor circa 1980s. Courtesy National library Bor Road to Zaječar via Metovnica village, circa 1960. Courtesy National library Bor A look towards the east of the country further complicates the picture. In stark contrast to the images of the Corridor 10 reconstruction are the haunting images of the empty train station in Bor. The last scheduled train departed from Bor train station on December 14th 2019, according to the schedule still hanging on the station’s walls. The railroad is working just fine and is still being used, but only for cargo trains, not passengers. The industrial railroad in Bor had already been dismantled a few years ago, with only one branch still in use within the Mining and Smelting Basin Bor, today known as Serbia Zijin Copper Doo Bor. The question of railroad construction in Eastern Serbia has always been a pressing matter for all the governments of Serbia/Yugoslavia, but most especially came to the fore in the second half of 19th century, to address the issue of connecting with the rest of the country via central route between Belgrade and Niš, when the road network to this area was too ineffective to meet the needs of the country. The ore extraction was the primary motif for the railroad construction in this region. Eastern Serbia, especially the Timok region, is very rich in mineral resources, as well as in agricultural products, which were necessary to boost the country’s economy that was always struggling with various crises. These respective industries have been considered a main branch of the economy since independence from the Ottoman empire. In 1899, the government decided to sign a contract with some local entrepreneurs to build the railroad Paraćin-Zaječar. Due to the subsequent crisis regarding the parliament dismissal and a coup d’état, the beginning of the process was delayed until 1904. Although with many difficulties, especially since the terrain is very hilly and therefore difficult to build, the railroad was eventually finished and opened on January 1, 1911. Given the experience with Customs War/Pig War 1906-1908, Serbia was pushing for the construction of the railroads to ease itself from its dependence on the Austro-Hungarian empire. One of the results of this trade war was the development of the mining industry in Serbia – which then needed more ore, which came mostly from Eastern Serbia – and an effort to connect with the Thessaloniki port. However, this port was not entirely at the country’s disposal due to the influence of the court in Vienna, and Serbia consequently pushed for the construction of the more important Trans-Balkan railroad route along the Kladovo-Niš-Adriatic coast. As a part of this route, the railroad from Zaječar to Negotin was built, and by February 1914, it expanded further to Prahovo and the Port on Danube, as well as from Zaječar to Knjaževac by February 1915. These railroads further networked the region of Eastern Serbia, from which coal, iron, copper, and gold ore were being extracted [7] . There have been several attempts to build more railroads in the more mountainous areas of Kučaj, which is also the area richest in gold, iron, and timber. A group of local merchants applied and got an approval of concession to build the railroad between Veliko Gradište on the Danube and Majdanpek, probably expecting that as concessionaries, it would also be easier for them to trade goods and raw materials if they had direct access to the port on the Danube. However, as it often happens, they overestimated their abilities and underestimated the challenges of the terrain and local microclimate. This railroad was never built [8] . Another very ambitious route that eventually was not finished as planned was the route Bor-Crni Vrh. The route was built under very peculiar circumstances: during the occupation by Nazi Germany, when the forced labour camp was established in Bor. Besides working in the mine, the prisoners were also building the route of the railroad from Bor to Crni Vrh, with the goal of easier extraction and transport of the timber and charcoal, and eventual continuation of the route to the town of Žagubica. The railroad was used as an industrial railroad with no travellers, but the problem with it was that it was built so poorly that accidents were constantly occurring. It was damaged before the retreat of the Nazi army – hence once the occupation was over in 1944, the first task that youth brigades had was to reconstruct this railroad. Within that year, the route was already partially in use, and by the summer of 1945, was finally completed and given to the Basin in Bor as an industrial railroad. It operated until 1968, when the need for it (and many other routes) ceased to exist, as motorways were in the process of being built [9] . Today, only this route remains, with its rails removed, now used as a hiking trail. The route of the former railroad to Crni Vrh. Credit: Jelica Jovanović, October 2020. Bor was one of the most important cities of the post-WW2 period in former Yugoslavia, precisely because of its material base: the copper mine. The town achieved the status of being a city in 1947 in order to establish the city’s status within the region, the republic, and the federation, as well as to give it the proper administrative basis for its future development. The copper served as one of the bases for the industrialization and electrification of the country, as well as lifting the population out of poverty. Copper mining and the expansion of copper production (as well as the other by-products, which are then further connected with other industries as the basis/resources for their production) were connected with the development of the city of Bor, as well as the development of the entire region and many other cities all over Serbia and into Yugoslavia. Within the broader region: Majdanpek, Zaječar, Boljevac, Kladovo, Negotin, Donji Milanovac, Prokuplje, Žagubica; within the Republic of Serbia: Novi Sad, Pančevo, Sevojno (near Užice), Jagodina; within Yugoslavia: Zagreb. The city’s mono-industry had essentially been under the auspices and control of the federal government from the very beginning of the socialist economy of Yugoslavia – even excluded to a certain degree from the framework of workers’ self-management, which was the official state polity [10] . Today, it feels that Bor, together with Serbia, has yet again found itself in a position similar to where it was a century (or at least 70 years) ago: deindustrialized, and reliant on direct foreign investments and foreign concessions to reconstruct its infrastructures and major industries. At the moment, nobody knows for certain what the terms of contract are in case of the railway reconstruction – or many other contracts as a matter of fact – and the general assumption is that they are unfavourable for Serbia, or else there would be no reason for confidentiality [11] . To help facilitate the process of direct bargaining with foreign creditors/investors, the government even pushed through parliament the Law on Special Procedures for the Implementation of the Project of Construction and Reconstruction of Line Infrastructure Structures of Particular Importance to the Republic of Serbia (Official Gazette of RS, number 9 from 04 February 2020). This law is targeting the so-called projects of construction and reconstruction of line infrastructure structures of particular importance to the Republic of Serbia – railways, highways, possibly the Belgrade metro – which are all currently being built with money given by foreign creditors, who in turn also bypass the local rules and laws on bidding, and directly negotiate for the companies from their countries of origin to come and build in Serbia. Meanwhile, the local construction companies have been ravaged by years of mismanagement and scandalously organized privatization. Hence the concern on how the debt will be repaid if the local industry is disappearing. However, very recent news show that China had started to suspend the debt for African countries, which in comparison to the usual money lenders, makes them a more desirable [business] partner, especially to the impoverished countries of the global South. [12] Although the contexts are different, maybe there is some room for renegotiating the terms of contracts in Serbia. In one of his lectures, Yanis Varoufakis reflects on his experience with the concession of the Pireaus Port, and states that there is a difference in the agendas of Western capital compared to Chinese capital entering foreign markets (being non-imperialistic/or less imperialistic), especially within the countries on the periphery of capitalism and the Global South like Ethiopia and Greece. [13] Serbia is in position very similar to these countries and it will be interesting to see how the situation will develop in the years to come. Jelica Jovanović is an architect and PhD student at the University of Technology in Vienna, working as an independent researcher. [1] Slobodna Evropa: „Kinesko čudo na Balkanu“ [A Chinese miracle in the Balkans] https://www.slobodnaevropa.org/a/30325861.html?utm_source=Balkan-HP-2col&utm_medium=banner&utm_campaign=China-vs-Balkans , accessed November 16th 2020 [2] World Bank: Economy Profile of Serbia Doing Business 2020 Indicators, p.3, https://www.doingbusiness.org/content/dam/doingBusiness/country/s/serbia/SRB.pdf , accessed November 16th 2020; Ministarstvo finansija RS: Javni dug Srbije, p.5, http://www.javnidug.gov.rs/upload/Stanje%20i%20struktura%20za%20mesecni%20izvestaj%20o%20stanju/31.12.2018%20final/Web%20site%20debt%20report%20%20-%20SRB%20LATINICA%20decenbar%20gotov.pdf , accessed November 17th 2020 [3] “Mihajlovićeva i Belozjorov potpisali sporazum o obnovi barske pruge do granice sa Crnom Gorom” [Mihajlovic and Belozjorov signed an agreement on recostruction of the Bar railway to the border with Montenegro],” Bilten, December 2019 – January 2020, p.3, http://www.zeleznicesrbije.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/01/bilten-decembar-januar-2020.pdf , accessed November 15, 2020Aila Stojkobivić, “ARTICLE TITLE (SERBIAN)/(ENGLISH),” Bilten, September 2020, PAGE NUMBER http://www.zeleznicesrbije.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/bilten-septembar-2020.pdf [4] Serbian Railways. History of Serbian Railways. http://www.zeleznicesrbije.com/istorijat/?lang=lat [5] Economic Commission for Europe. International E Road Network. http://www.unece.org/fileadmin/DAM/trans/conventn/MapAGR2007.pdf , accessed November 15, 2020 [6] The brief report says: „…for a couple of months now, they have been exposed to pressure, attempts to cut off electricity, which they regularly pay for, as well as various forms of intimidation. Other families also received eviction orders, or were informally approached with such requests. In addition, all families have been living here for decades on the basis of a legally acquired right to use the accommodation, because their family members have spent their entire working life working for the railway and investing in its housing stock, as well as in the houses in which they lived. They do not want to move out until they are provided with adequate housing replacement, as required by the law. Everyone was offered the same thing: a smaller space in Topcider.“ ZA krov nad glavom: 11 porodica u 35 kvadrata, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Yz-gZ9aU_A&feature=youtu.be , accessed November 17, 2020 [7] Nikolić, Jezdimir S.: Istorija železnica Srbije, Vojvodine, Crne Gore i Kosova, p. 157-162 [8] Ibid, p.163-164 [9] Radomir Cokić, B.Sc. eng. Forty years since the construction of the first youth railway Bor-Crni Vrh. http://timockapruga.org.rs/istorija_timockih_pruga/bor_crni_vrh.php , accessed Novemner 15, 2020 [10] Jovanović, Jelica: EMERGING FROM THE ORE: BOR, A NEW CITY OF YUGOSLAVIA (manuscript for the catalog of the Pavilion of Serbia on 17th International Architecture Exhibition – Biennale in Venice) [11] Zorić, Ognjen: “Oznaka ‘Poverljivo’ – zašto tajnost prati ugovore koje sklapa Srbija?” [Label ‘Confidential’ – why does secrecy follow contracts concluded by Serbia?], https://www.slobodnaevropa.org/a/poverljivi-ugovori/30739667.html , accessed November 16th 2020 [12] Jevans Nyabiage: Chinese bank signs debt suspension deals with 11 African countries, https://www.scmp.com/news/china/diplomacy/article/3105290/chinese-bank-signs-debt-suspension-deals-11-african-countries , accessed November 17, 2020 [13] China vs EU on debt conditions. Source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9tJatdtv4jQ&feature=emb_logo , accessed November 15, 2020 Previous Next

< Back The Landscape of Unknown Idil Bozkurt I closed my eyes and saw the vision field. I listened to my breath. again and again, nothing but this very moment. I was here. Now, I open my eyes and see my vision field. Light and Shadow, almost seeing the particles in the air. here I go again. İdil Bozkurt, The Landscape of an Unknown, 2020 “Disturbance realigns possibilities for transformative encounters.” Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing, The Mushroom at the End of the World I woke up this morning and remembered the dream I had, which, unlike others that slip away moments after waking, came back to me suddenly: I was walking around the city. There was no one outside but me. I ambled through the streets secretly enjoying the quietness. Empty streets, bare gardens and barren shops. While I was wandering in the streets of this ghost town, I suddenly spotted a huge billboard on the side of the building. There, I realized that the words on the sign gave a proclamation of good news:‘From the 20th of April, we will be elevating the recent restrictions about your social life. You will be able to go out and socialise as normal. We are working very hard on it. Everything will get back to normal.’ When I awoke, I had a strong sense of the emotion that was left with me after having read the sign within my dream. The initial feeling I had was disappointment, which was followed by a state of panic and anxiety. ‘Is that it? We haven’t changed anything yet!’, I thought to myself. And, here I am writing this piece with all those feelings in my mind vividly, distinctively. Is there something wrong with me that deep down I secretly wish this crisis to continue until it reaches its meaningful end? Meaningful end? What does ‘meaningful end’ even mean? What do I expect this crisis to turn into? I wonder if I’m thinking like Winston Churchill who believes the rule- ‘never let a good crisis go to waste’? True or not, this expression is now commonly applied to economic or diplomatic crises that can be exploited to advance political agendas. To support this argument, frighteningly, there seems to be many recent examples of it- an opportunity for authoritarian power grabs in Hungary, Israel, China, the Philippines and the US, with more to follow undoubtedly. This advice, of course, can be read as each crisis brings its own opportunity for a creative response. The matter of letting crises be wasted or not fills me with a sense of urgency. This urgency is followed by the fog of the unknown lingering in the air and it is hard to see what’s on the horizon, or even what’s in front of us. Although, staying put is hard especially while viewing digital totalitarian regimes rapidly take place, while healthcare professionals work in precarious conditions and society at large coping with social distancing during the COVID-19 outbreak. Millions of people have lost their jobs during this turbulence. In addition to this, I am also worried about the state of arts and culture, and especially art professionals who work independently with freelance or zero-hours contracts. For instance, in the city of Brighton, where I live, 40% of its revenue comes from festivals and cultural events across the year. The month of May is one of the best times to be in Brighton. There are four different festivals that are run throughout May. Of course, with the recent events, many of them are cancelled or postponed. Some festivals fund themselves through their ticket sales, and the cancellation of these festivals are not only affecting their ability for future participation, but also hitting the staff who intended to work with them. I count myself as one of those affected. I had two exhibitions cancelled along with many months of freelance jobs. I have not only realised the precariousness of my working conditions but I have found that I have started to reconsider the value of these works—what is the value of an exhibition? What does it mean to ‘go-online’ and continue producing content on digital platforms? What does it feel like to be in a virtual gallery? How does it affect our relationship with space, art and spectatorship? What is the role of the curator, here and now? How should we value public spaces now that we can no longer access them? How is this uncertain time going to affect artists? Galleries and museums may well be the last places to be reopened to the public—then, will things go back to normal ? It’s important to see the reaction of many galleries and museums during the COVID-19 crisis. As many of us whose independent projects and works were cancelled, we joined with the rest of our friends and families at home, who are not only locked down in their households, but also locked to their screens. Right after the lockdowns a number of museums, art organisations and galleries responded to this moment of crisis by ‘going-online’ where they have continued to produce and disseminate their content through platforms such as Zoom, Instagram, Jitsi and many others with which they can broadcast talks, live chats, workshops, virtual gallery tours and even virtual studio visits. They are still striving to keep us connected. We are quite grateful for this wide range of content being put in front of us while others are struggling to stay connected 24/7 and have started to suffer from digital ‘burn out’. Relevantly, for the last couple of years, there has been a rising debate on ‘ burn out culture ’, especially amongst freelance gig workers. I regularly hear from many colleagues and friends who are in a constant battle with this experience and struggle with burnout. As the majority of people all experience this endless exhaustion where work becomes an identity, capitalism becomes a religion and productivity manifests the way we measure human value. Here we are again, while everything has paused, we are still experiencing the digital side of burnout. I wonder what would happen if the whole art world stopped and went silent for a bit. If there were no arts content, what would it look like? If this is not a great time to slow down and reflect on the values of spaces that are dedicated to exhibiting art and the importance of our relationship with it, then when is it going to be? The Landscape of an Unknown, 2020 Let me explain myself here. My intention is neither to throw a stone at the art institutions, museums or galleries nor do I desire to see the arts and creative sector crumbling down. They are not the essence of the problem but they are the part of the globalised production systems. For instance, contemporary biennials are a way of signalling a city’s headway to enter the globalizing world of trade and culture through the use of art to encourage tourism, cultural ‘growth’ and international media. Hito Steyerl puts this very clearly in her essay Duty Free Art where she says, “…contemporary art is made possible by neoliberal capital plus the internet, biennials, art fairs, parallel pop-up histories, growing income inequality. Let’s add asymmetric warfare -… real estate speculation, tax evasion, money laundering and deregulated financial markets to this list.” I’m not talking about the creation of arts but rather the roles of museums and art institutions in the context of the globalised system of production. The consequences of the globalised production systems in contemporary arts can be seen today in the growth of a certain form of art that is now supposed to be seen everywhere at biennials, also in a marked decrease in the ‘specificity’ of regional cultural output. We are facing the increasingly blurred and confused role of art in contemporary culture. In the last few years, the ideas of transformative change, placemaking, the role of artists and audience, funding and diversity have been the subjects that are widely discussed in art institutions, in public art spaces and galleries. It seems to me that we all go around these subject matters, making mind maps, discussing and sharing stories but not feeling brave enough to delve into the essential questions about what the problem is with the state of art institutions in the contemporary art scene. How can we think of art institutions in an age of globalised production, growing inequality, climate emergency and digital technology? It’s important to rethink and reimagine many subjects like sustainability, diversity, equality and legacy here. Perhaps the answer lies not only in the act of looking to the past, but also in the construction of new conversations about public spaces, the formation of collective culture, and the future of art. Referring to Bruno Latour’s questions here, what are some suspended activities that you would like not to see coming back as an arts professional and/or an artist? It might be useful to visit the concept of curare here. To take care of. Curators are assigned to the job of caring in the art world. Over the years, various forms of caretaking have evolved from this root word, but contemporary curator’s work remains similar to the curare of growing, developing and seeking to help the art of people, their meaning, interpretation and commonalities flourish. Now, the desk of many curators is empty – at least for the time being. Creating art is not always a question of the moment, and neither is its exhibition; curating follows art. So where do we start the conversation now? What sort of time and space is required for the manifestation of contemporary art? The Landscape of an Unknown, 2020 “This machine is a master at collecting goods and people from around the world. It has the characteristics of an assemblage, yet it also has characteristics of a machine, a mechanism that is limited to the sum of its parts. This machine is not a total institution” as Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing puts it, we live and spend our lives inside of it. In my mind, I’m imagining the red button and the nice steel handle mentioned by Bruno Latour, and how the states, one after the other, can pull it to stop the engine. Here we are. Now.The engine has stopped, along with the noise it produced; the machine is not working -for now. We can start to hear things, other things that we could not hear or did not pay attention to before. As we all feel the somnolence that comes through adapting to our new routines, we should not lose the impetus for action. I have been thinking about my answers to questions posed by Bruno Latour*, below. Perhaps, now, we can all think and share some thoughts. So let’s not waste this crisis, instead think and ask ourselves some questions. — *Here are the questions posed by Bruno Latour in his article called What protective measures can you think of so we don’t go back to the pre-crisis production model? (translated from French by Stephen Muecke) (This article appeared in AOC on 29th March 2020: https://aoc.media/opinion/2020/03/29/imaginerles-gestes-barrieres-contre-le-retour-a-la-production-davant-crise/ ) Question 1: What are some suspended activities that you would like to see not coming back ? Question 2: Describe why this activity seems to you to be noxious/superfluous/dangerous/incoherent and how its disappearance/putting on hold/substitution might render other activities that you prefer easier/more coherent. (Write a separate paragraph for each of the activities listed under 1). Question 3: What kinds of measures do you advocate so that workers/employees/agents/entrepreneurs, who can no longer continue in the activities that you have eliminated, are able to facilitate the transition to other activities ? Question 4: What are the activities, now suspended, that you hope might develop/begin again, or even be created from scratch? Question 5: Describe how this activity appears to be positive to you, and how it makes other activities easier/more harmonious/coherent that you prefer and can fight against those that you judge to be inappropriate. (Write a separate paragraph for each of the activities listed under 4). Question 6: What kinds of measures do you advocate to help workers/employees/agents/entrepreneurs to acquire capacities/means/finances/instruments allowing for restarting/development/creation of this activity ? (Now find a way to compare your description with that of other participants. By tabling and then superimposing the answers, you should start to build up a picture composed of conflicting lines, alliances, controversies and oppositions.) Idil Bozkurt (1990) is a lens-based media producer and an independent curator. Previous Next

Events Lecture Series Participant Activities Lecture by Hou Hanru / Reengaging a contemporary art institution with civic society Saša Tkačenko, Flags from the WCSCD series, 2018. Photo by Ivan Zupanc THE CURATORIAL COURSE WHAT COULD/SHOULD CURATING DO? IS PLEASED TO ANNOUNCE A PUBLIC TALK BY: Hou Hanru REENGAGING A CONTEMPORARY ART INSTITUTION WITH CIVIC SOCIETY MUSEUM OF CONTEMPORARY ART BELGRADE WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 10, 2018 AT 6 PM In collaboration with the Museum of Contemporary Art Belgrade, the fifth lecture within the series of public programs organized by WCSCD will be presented by Hou Hanru (Artistic Director of MAXXI – National Museum for 21st Century Art and National Museum of Architecture, Rome, Italy). Following the recent lectures describing new and different perspectives on the theories and practices of exhibition-making, Hou Hanru’s presentation will outline certain aspects of the program developed by Hou at MAXXI, detailing his vision-strategies for the reengagement of a contemporary art institution with civic society in this time of “global crisis.” As part of this, he will also discuss some of the challenges of running a XXI century institution, its complexity, reality, and actions. As Hou explains: “I think that society needs institutions or organizations that can preserve those elements that are supposed to be experimental, complicated, and controversial, while playing a very important part of the knowledge production of today. It’s also very important for museums to be able to provide the conditions that allow intellectually complicated projects to exist. Otherwise we follow the path of the entertainment industry.” ABOUT THE LECTURER: Hou Hanru is a prolific writer and curator based in Rome, Paris, and San Francisco. He is currently the Artistic Director of MAXXI (National Museum for 21st Century Art and National Museum of Architecture), Rome, Italy. Hou Hanru has curated and co- curated over 100 exhibitions in the last two decades across the world. Some notable examples include: China/Avant-Garde (National Museum of Art of China, Beijing, 1989); Cities On The Move (1997–2000); the 2nd Johannesburg Biennial (Hong Kong, etc.) (1997); the Shanghai Biennale (2000); the Gwangju Biennale (2002); the Venice Biennale (French Pavilion, 1999; Z.O.U.—Zone Of Urgency, 2003; and Chinese Pavilion, 2007); the 2nd Guangzhou Triennial (2005); the exhibition and public program of the San Francisco Art Institute (2006–2012); the 10th Istanbul Biennial (2007); Trans(cient)City (Luxembourg 2007); the 10th Biennale de Lyon (2009); the 5th Auckland Triennial (Auckland, New Zealand, 2013); Open Museum Open City (MAXXI, Rome, 2014); Transformers: Choi Jeong-hwa, Didier Fuiza Faustino, Martino Gamper, Pedro Reyes (MAXXI, Rome, 2015–2016); Istanbul, Passion, Joy, Fury (MAXXI, Rome, 2015–2016); Please Come Back, the world as prison? (MAXXI, Rome, 2017); Piere Giraldi (MAXXI, Rome, 2017); Home Beirut (MAXXI, 2017–18); Growing in Difference, the 7th Shenzhen Hong Kong Bi-City Biennial of Urbanism and Architecture (UABB 2017–2018), among others. He is also a consulting curator of Chinese art for the Guggenheim Museum, New York, and co-curator of Tales of Our Time (2016), Art and China after 1989: Theater of the World (2017–18), and One Hand Clapping (2018). He is an advisor for numerous cultural institutions, and frequently contributes to various journals on contemporary art and culture, lectures, and teaches in numerous international institutions. His books include Hou Hanru, Utopia@Asialink, and School of Culture and Communication, University of Melbourne (2014); Paradigm Shifts, Walter and McBean Galleries Exhibitions and Public Programs, San Francisco Art Institute (2011); On the Mid-Ground (English version published in 2002 by Timezone 8, Hong Kong, and Chinese version published in 2013, by Gold Wall Press, Beijing); Curatorial Challenges (conversations between Hou Hanru and Hans Ulrich Obrist, in Art-It magazine as “curators on the move,” Japan, 2006–2012, Chinese version, Gold Wall Press, Beijing, 2013); among others. The WCSCD curatorial course and series of public lectures are initiated and organized by Biljana Ciric together with Supervizuelna. The lecture by Niels Van Tomme is made possible with the help of MoCAB and the Embassy of the Kingdom of the Netherlands, with the additional support of Zepter Museum and Zepter Hotel. Project partners: The Museum of Contemporary Art Belgrade; GRAD—European Center for Culture and Debate; EVA International – Ireland’s Biennial, ’Novi Sad 2021 – European Capital of Culture’ Foundation and Zepter Museum. The project is supported by: the Goethe Institute in Belgrade; Istituto Italiano di Cultura Belgrado; the Embassy of Sweden; the Embassy of the Kingdom of the Netherlands; the Embassy of Ireland in Greece; the Embassy of Indonesia; the EU Info Centre; Pro Helvetia – Swiss Art Council; and galleries Eugster || Belgrade, HESTIA Art Residency & Exhibitions Bureau, and Zepter Hotel, Royal Inn Hotel and CAR:GO. Media partners: EUNIC Serbia, RTS3. < Mentors Educational Program How to Apply >

Events Lecture Series Participant Activities Lecture by Ivet Ćurlin / WHW / My Sweet Little Lamb, (everything we see can also be otherwise) Saša Tkačenko, Flags from WCSCD series, 2018 THE CURATORIAL COURSE WHAT COULD/SHOULD CURATING DO? IS PLEASED TO ANNOUNCE A PUBLIC TALK BY: IVET ĆURLIN (WHW) My Sweet Little Lamb, (everything we see can also be otherwise) MUSEUM OF CONTEMPORARY ART BELGRADE THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 8 2018 AT 6 PM In collaboration with the Museum of Contemporary Art Belgrade, the lecture within the series of public programs organized by WCSCD will be presented by Ivet Ćurlin — member of curatorial collective, What, How & for Whom/WHW. The series is designed to offer new and different perspectives on the theories and practices of exhibition-making. Lecture by Ivet Ćurlin entitled “My Sweet Little Lamb, (everything we see can also be otherwise)” will present the work of curatorial collective WHW through several curatorial projects concerned with continuous reconfiguration of the relationships between artistic and cultural production, authorship, collecting, history, display and politics, as well as the discuss the need for starting the new long-term educational program for young artists, called WHW Akademija. The focus will be the project My Sweet Little Lamb, (everything we see can also be otherwise) WHW co-curated in collaboration with Kathrin Rhomberg. After six exhibition episodes, taking place from November 2016 to May 2017 in independent art spaces, artists’ studios and private apartments in Zagreb, the project’s epilogue has been staged at The Showroom, London, in collaboration with Emily Pethick. Based on the Kontakt Art Collection, which includes seminal works by artists from Central, Eastern and South-East Europe from 1960s to the present, the project juxtaposed the collection’s canonical works with a number of historical and contemporary works in order to address and reframe some of the recurring themes that stem from the collection, such as radical utopianism, figure of dissident artist, questions of gendered bodies, political subjectivities and engagement, and the status of public space. Titled after a work by Croatian artist Mladen Stilinović (1947-2016), the project is inspired by his life-long anti-systematic artistic approach that searched for more autonomous ways of artistic production. His artistic practice that humorously engages with complex themes of ideology, work, money, pain and poverty, inspired many of WHW’s projects. ABOUT THE LECTURER: Ivet Ćurlin is member of curatorial collective, What, How & for Whom/WHW, formed in 1999 and based in Zagreb and Berlin. Besides Ivet, WHW’s members are curators Ana Dević, Nataša Ilić and Sabina Sabolović, and designer and publicist Dejan Kršić. WHW organizes a range of production, exhibitions and publishing projects and directs Gallery Nova in Zagreb. Since its first exhibition titled What, How & for Whom, on the occasion of 152nd anniversary of the Communist Manifesto, that took place in Zagreb in 2000, WHW curated numerous international projects, among which are Collective Creativity, Kunsthalle Fridericianum, Kassel, 2005; 11th Istanbul Biennial What Keeps Mankind Alive?, Istanbul, 2009; One Needs to Live Self-Confidently…Watching, Croatian pavilion at 54th Venice Biennial, 2011. Recent projects by WHW include exhibition Really Useful Knowledge, Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofia, Madrid, 2014, My Sweet Little Lamb, (everything we see can also be otherwise), (co-curated with Kathrin Rhomberg), various locations in Zagreb, 2016/2017; Shadow Citizens, retrospective of Želimir Žilnik at Edith-Russ-Hausfür Medienkunst, Oldenburg, 2018, and On the Shoulders of Fallen Giants, The 2nd Industrial Art Biennial that took place this summer in Labin, Raša, Rijeka, Pula, Vodnjan. In fall 2018, WHW has started non-formal international educational program for young artists in Zagreb, called WHW Akademija. The WCSCD curatorial course and series of public lectures are initiated and organized by Biljana Ciric together with Supervizuelna. The lecture by Niels Van Tomme is made possible with the help of MoCAB and the Embassy of the Kingdom of the Netherlands, with the additional support of Zepter Museum and Zepter Hotel. Project partners: The Museum of Contemporary Art Belgrade; GRAD—European Center for Culture and Debate; EVA International – Ireland’s Biennial, ’Novi Sad 2021 – European Capital of Culture’ Foundation and Zepter Museum. The project is supported by: the Goethe Institute in Belgrade; Istituto Italiano di Cultura Belgrado; the Embassy of Sweden; the Embassy of the Kingdom of the Netherlands; the Embassy of Ireland in Greece; the Embassy of Indonesia; the EU Info Centre; Pro Helvetia – Swiss Art Council; and galleries Eugster || Belgrade, HESTIA Art Residency & Exhibitions Bureau, and Zepter Hotel, Royal Inn Hotel and CAR:GO. Media partners: EUNIC Serbia, RTS3. < Mentors Educational Program How to Apply >

< Back THE DANGER OF AMBITION AND NEGLECT The Case of Beautifying Sheger 30 Dec 2020 Sinkneh Eshetu, Aziza Abdulfetah Busser & Berhanu I. Introduction Comparing the current prime minister of Ethiopia, Abiy Ahmad, to his predecessors, Briuk Terrefe writes: “Abiy Ahmed’s two megaprojects [the 36-hectare luxury real estate complex (LaGare) backed by the Abu-Dhabi-based Eagle Hills, as well the 56 km river-bank restoration project, Beautifying Sheger ] represents a clear ideological rupture from EPRDF [1] and its political priorities, while at the same [time] continuing the long Ethiopian lineage of overly ambitious plans, as well as highly centralized and top-down mechanisms of delivery.” [2] This places the subject of this research within the wider context of “political rupture” and societal change. Regardless of whether one agrees with his analysis or not, we can be sure that the urban fabric of Addis Ababa is about to undergo a dramatic change. It has been consistently observed around the world that such rapid and large-scale transformations are disruptive to people’s lives (particularly to the economically disadvantaged) and the natural environment. Beautifying Sheger , which aspires to create a city-scale public space by transforming the neglected and polluted rivers of Addis Ababa [3] will inevitably disrupt the ecosystem, as well as the livelihood of thousands and over a century of collective cultural memory. This is the case our team is working on as part of the research-based art project, As You Go … The Road Under Our Feet Towards a New Future . For an apt treatment of a project of such a scope, we began with the cultural landscape as the conceptual framework of our research. Using this framework allows us to see the integration of natural and cultural heritage conservation at a landscape level, rather than at a site-level. This encourages us to give due consideration to the landscape; its historical scale; and the connectivity between people, places, and cultural objects. It also enables us to recognise that the current landscape is the product of long-standing and complex interrelationships between people and the environment. [4] When we began this project, we had three major objectives. The first was to investigate the impact of the project on the ecosystem, and on the memory and livelihood of the people, focusing on gardeners along the rivers who use the river water, though polluted, for irrigation. Another objective was to explore alternative designs for [a] sustainable culture-nature fit by reviewing literature on international trends, experiences, and better practices in urban river rehabilitation or re-naturalization. The final (but not the least) objective was sensitising authorities and the public to the probable impact of the current design and construction process on the people and ecosystem through public engagement. Abstracted images of the rivers targeted in the Beautifying Sheger River Development Project [5] . However, as our research progressed, mediated by the tele-conferences among the partners (cells) of the As You Go … project, another important issue came to the fore. Landscape architectures is often regarded as an external manifestation of the inner landscape of a society. The realisation of the designer’s vision and ideals is a process that encompasses conceptualisation, design, implementation, and management – therefore, the cultural background, experience, and philosophy of the designer(s) must be a significant consideration. Alongside this, the participation of the public, professionals and non-professions alike, becomes paramount in a project of this scale. As we began our research, we learned that the initial landscape design of the Beautifying Sheger riverside development, used in the promotional video released by the PM’s office and Addis Ababa City Administration, is not being implemented. Instead, a new design developed by a Chinese landscape architect for the pilot project is now underway. Moreover, the construction of the pilot phase of the project, which was originally awarded to an Addis-based construction company, Varnero, in February 2019, was subsequently withdrawn. It was given to the China Communications Construction Company (CCCC) after the Chinese government agreed to fund the project following PM Abiy’s debt rescheduling negotiations at the Belt and Road Forum in April 2019. [6] Local professionals are now only involved as private consultants in the construction process. As a result, analysing the conceptualisation of the design, labour relationships, and use of technology in the construction process, as well as the role of China in the future management of the designed landscape, has now become an additional objective. II. Background of the Study Area 1. Historical Overview The history of Addis Ababa is important to understand in order to begin to comprehend the layers of collective and cultural memory; the spirits of places; the spatial patterns; the ecological links; the contested interests; the impacts of change, and the direct and indirect recipients of the impact. Unlike other cultures, such as Egypt, who built their cities and civilization along rivers, Ethiopia does not have any cities near its major rivers. Even the establishment of the youthful Bahir Dar, which lies in close proximity to Lake Tana and River Abai (the Nile), is arguably not dependent on these waters. Addis Ababa is no exception. Its establishment and growth are not principally driven by its rivers – though interestingly, it was one of its hot-springs that offered the initial impetus for the city’s foundation and ended the shifting of Ethiopian capitals. In 1886, the wife of King Menelik, Queen Tayitu, camped at the Filwuha hot spring. Preferring the warmth of [the] Finfine plains to the windy and cold hill of Entoto, she decided to build a house to the north of the spring. With this humble beginning, Ethiopia’s capital would soon shift downhill, and in 1906, it changed its name from Entoto to Addis Ababa (translating to: New Flower). Menelik’s generals were given encampments (sefers), interspaced by long distances, to settle in the new capital with their army and relatives. As a military strategy, both the emperor and his generals preferred hills to river valleys and floodplains. Most of the spaces along these unplanned settlements would gradually be filled with similarly unplanned neighbourhoods – particularly near the rivers of the newly forming city, which was left for the slum-like settlements of Addis Ababa’s poor. Emperor Haile Selassie (1892-1975) eventually introduced a diligent planning and provision of infrastructures. The Italian occupants, who interrupted the reign of Emperor Haile Selassie for five years (1936-1941), brought about further planning and construction, and contributed to the development of riverside gardening by building micro-dams for irrigation. When the socialist Derg (1974-1987) made land ownership public, many of the riverside settlements and farms consequently became public property. To this day, they remain mostly owned by woredas/District. Addis Ababa was not built on Terra Nullius (No One’s Land). [7] It is surrounded and preceded by farming communities, and historically and religiously important heritages. This is particularly the case with Entoto, where centuries-old ruins of buildings and rock-hewn churches abound. Though professionally studied literature on these ruins are lacking, some believe that they are related to the fabled city, Barara, referred to in the chronicle of Ahmad Gragn (1506 – 1543). Working within our framework of cultural landscape, the city’s long history will also be considered to explore whether its heritage, which enhances the spirit of places (genius loci) within the project area and offers alternative narratives, is capitalized on and integrated into the new landscape design of Beautifying Sheger. Some of the remains of ancient buildings on Entoto Hill, showing a long history of settlement(Credit: Sinkneh Eshetu, 2014) 2. Characteristics of the Addis Ababa Rivers Addis Ababa’s rivers have hydrological and morphological properties that make their development challenging. The rapid expansion of the city added another layer of complexity to this challenge. The nature of the rivers’ network, elevation differences, soil characteristics, hydrological systems, and their geology gives the rivers of Addis Ababa unique characteristics and irregular behaviour as they pass through the different parts of the city. The river network is estimated to cover about 54 kms and passes through almost all neighbourhoods. As a result, the human-river interaction – the social, cultural and economic attachment between the rivers and the city dwellers – is significant. The rivers’ characteristics, which differs from site to site, highly affects the day to day life of the majority of its inhabitants. The elevation difference between the highest point (Hill Entoto) and the lowest (Akaki catchment) is more than 900m within a distance of about 27 kms. The resulting slope, combined with the riverbank width, results in a rapid flow rate. Favoured by the topography, this rapid flow makes many places adjacent to the rivers prone to flooding. In addition to the overall altitude difference, the riverbanks have different sectional views adapted to the local topography. There are also areas with unstable edges, characterized by an accumulated layer of thick top soil. Due to the fact that the volume of water in the river significantly increases during the rainy seasons, such soft edges are the most susceptible areas for landslide accidents. The diverse bank characteristic of Addis Ababa Rivers (Source: Google Earth Pro. Picture taken 12, 2016. Retrieved on 12/03/2020 from 23:21 to 12:08 AM) 3. The Role of China in the Design, Construction and Management As stated earlier, the construction of the pilot project of Beautifying Sheger is contracted to China Communications Construction Company (CCCC). CCCC commenced the first phase in October 2019 and completed it by the end of August 2020. It outsourced the second phase to the Nantong 3rd Construction Company for another 14-month long construction. Echoing the significance of the project to PM Abiy’s administration, both the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Ministry of Commerce of China rate [it] as their “No. 1” international project and one of their key foreign aid projects. [8] Since its commencement, PM Abiy, high-rank officials, and many generals are among the frequent visitors to the construction site. One of the state leaders even volunteered to explain the project details to other site visitors – allegedly, he even has a watchtower built near the PM residence to check on the progress of the construction. [9] PM Abiy visits the construction site. Source: http://www.zgzjwx.org/detail/2d0kjg.html The diplomatic and political significance of the Sheger project requires an enormous coordination and mobilisation of resources from China’s side. Accordingly, the Ministry of Commerce has prioritised an allocation of funds to this project. China’s ambassador to Ethiopia, Tan Jian, and CCCC higher management have managed to coordinate the logistics of materials to the site, as well as human resources and equipment from 20 other construction projects in Ethiopia. The staff members from China’s Urban Construction Academy and the primary designer stationed themselves at the site of the podium and worked overnight to solve emerging issues. The CCCC engineers are said to have shortened the production of executable blueprints from several months to only 15 days. With scant information from the CCCC, we nevertheless try to offer a portrait of the project based on literature, open resources, and past research experiences. The negotiation, mobilisation, and construction process of the Sheger project – which like many other megaprojects, underlies the famous “Chinese speed” – has domestic roots, though it evolved in international contexts. Since the 1990s, Chinese construction companies have become accustomed to the harmonised government–construction consortia relations that they cultivated domestically. [10] Winning a government contract – and support – is critical for the smooth implementation of projects (and projects in these international contexts, at times even offset Chinese companies’ unfamiliarity to local cultural and legal conditions.) [11] Design blueprint of Phase I. source: http://www.zgzjwx.org/detail/2d0kjg.html Taking Ethiopia as an example, we may consider the nature of large overseas projects the Chinese has been involved with before the Belt and Road initiative. China’s presence within the country goes back to the 1970s, when Emperor Haile Selassie and PM Zhou Enlai signed a project to build a 300km long gravel road in the Amhara region. The year 1997 witnessed the first Chinese company entering the Ethiopian construction market building the Addis Ababa ring road. Like elsewhere in Africa, the infrastructural developments Chinese companies have been involved in, though termed as an aid project in the PRC’s documents, are in fact projects tied to the resources or revenue of the recipient countries. They mainly filled the gap left by traditional donors who shifted away from infrastructure to humanitarian aid. [12] In the case of Sheger, the nature of the contract is on an EPC basis according to a Chinese subcontractor to CCCC. An EPC project means that the engineering, procurement, and construction responsibilities fall on the constructor. While this allows the constructor to streamline and integrate processes at their discretion – in this case, turning to a top-down mobilisation and coordination of human and material resources from China (80% of the total) and other CCCC projects in Ethiopia – such “turn-key” projects keep local input to a minimum. In case of Beautifying Sheger , both the designer and site supervisor are from China’s Urban Construction Academy rather than Ethiopian consultant companies. As a result of the closed nature of the project, our requests to interview Chinese staff members have been politely declined. The mobilisation mode of the construction giant CCCC is exemplar among China’s state-owned enterprises, which often uphold discipline and sacrifice for collective purposes – a socialist working ethos, with its pedigree from the Stakhanov movement in the Soviet Union. In another project contracted to a Chinese Special Operatives Executive (SOE) in Addis Ababa, whenever VIPs or political leaders (both Ethiopian and Chinese) are about to visit the construction site, engineers and workers have to conduct shock work, and their performance and preparedness are linked to opportunities for promotion. In other words, both the management and engineers are directed by a mix of collectivism and career instrumentalism. Many overseas projects of Chinese construction companies hire skilled domestic workers through labour companies, however, skilled Chinese labourers are still favoured by Chinese companies, or occupy a higher niche than local labourers, because of their familiarity with Chinese technical standards (Ethiopians follow EU, US, or Ethiopian standards) and the ease of communication in Chinese. Many Chinese workers are from rural areas, or are the second generation of so-called peasant workers, who gravitate to foreign countries because they can earn a much higher salary and [can] subsequently buy an apartment in China’s cities. [13] Carrying their parents’ puritan work ethic, these workers remain quite adaptable to the intense workloads overseas, in the hope that they may climb up the social ladder in Chinese society. Thanks to the nature of the EPC contract, the integrated supply chain; the mobilisation model (characteristic of the overseas project of the SOEs); and the incentive structure of the Chinese management and workforce all contribute to the everyday progress of the project. Biruk Terrefe argues that the Beautifying Sheger project represents a form of urban aesthetics targeting urban elites, the Ethiopian diaspora, and tourists; and that there exists the operational continuity of planning centralisation. [14] The quick accomplishment of the project will no doubt be a positive political asset to PM Abiy Ahmed, but it also represents the enormous power of states and a triumph of their collective hyper-modern imagination of grandeur, minimalism, and speed. It is unavoidable that local expertise; the complexity of the riverside landscape; the livelihood and memories of the inhabitants; and the nature and ecology of the Addis rivers are all sidestepped and silenced. III. THE PROJECT: BEAUTIFYING SHEGER 1. Existing Condition of the Rivers Over a century of neglect and mismanagement made the Addis rivers a site of informal settlement, landfills and open defecation, outlets of domestic sewers and factory pollutants, deeply eroded gullies and high retention walls, and wild vegetation. Meanwhile, important infrastructures such as waste and storm water lines, roads, bridges, powerlines, and telecom cables criss-cross them. Our site visit to the parts of the river targeted in the pilot project reveals that there are still urban farms using polluted water for irrigation, with informal and formal settlements often precariously hanging off the deep gullies. The current state of the rivers targeted in the pilot project of Beautifying Sheger, clockwise: informal settlement side to side with modern buildings, urban farm, high retention wall and landfills (Picture: Sinkneh Eshetu, 2020) Other than during the rainy seasons, the water in the rivers is not actually natural water but rather, domestic sewer and factory releases. In the rainy seasons, which only happens twice a year, the rivers often overflow at some points, causing flooding hazards. Researches have shown that the storm water which heavily contributes to the seasonally rising rivers is increasing with the growing urbanisation that creates impervious surfaces. [15] Parts of the rivers run through enclosed culverts for long distances, intensifying the pressure of the water downstream. The rivers pose a high risk to public health and wellbeing, which only continues to grow with the rapidly increasing buildings and population that have no provisions of fitting infrastructure and services. One of the results of the unplanned development of Addis Ababa is the co-existence of slum dwellers with the urban fluent. In recent years, there has been a rapid makeover of the face of Addis, which often involves the displacement of slum residents. The riversides are no exception. Modern buildings and high rises are rapidly encroaching these places, often buying out and dislocating people, building more concrete embankments, and further contributing to the liquid and solid waste. Unlike these ad hoc changes, Beautifying Sheger targets the entire river system and promises to mitigate the negative impacts posed by the former. Most likely encouraged by the rising land value (following the transformation of the rivers with the riverside development project), new buildings are sprouting along the river. This further transforms the existing ecosystem, urban fabric, and sub-culture. New buildings along a street near the newly built Friendship Square. (Picture: Sinkneh Eshetu, 2020). 2. Earlier Efforts at Riverside Development The effort to clean and beautify Addis Ababa’s rivers is not new. An independent office, Addis Ababa Rivers and River side Development Project Office, was also established in early months of 2016 ( addisstandard , March 6, 2019 ). Other organizations, such as Addis Ababa Environment Protection Authority (1995), Addis Ababa Beautification, Parks and Cemetery Development Agency (2009), Forum for Environment Ethiopia (1997) and Tena Kebena (1993), have also been trying to clean the landfills and create public spaces near the rivers. However, these sporadic efforts failed to explicitly target to clean the rivers of their pollution sources or connect the entire river system in series of green spaces, which Beautifying Sheger promises to do. Earlier efforts at restoring the river bank, an area part of the pilot project (Pictures: Sinkneh Eshetu, 2020). 3. The Current Project: Concept Note, Design and Construction According to the project Concept Note, Addis Ababa City Riverside Green Development (May 18, 2019), the project aims to: make the river watershed clean and healthy, create public spaces along the rivers, and increase the green space in the city. It plans to achieve this through concrete embankments along the rivers; erosion and runoff control structures wherever necessary; waste and storm water lines, and water treatment plants along the rivers; and artificial lakes for irrigation. The concept does not propose public participation in the design and implementation process, though unemployed people affected by the project will be offered jobs as day laborers at the construction site. While it admits this project may involve the relocation of people within the buffer zone, it promises to allow existing farmers to continue ‘owning’ and managing their gardens even after the completion of the project. However, whether or not these measures are to be incorporated in the current and future design and construction, raises a number of questions: What justifies the recommendation that the entire river bank will be lined with concrete embankments? Are the existing sewer and storm water lines of the city combined? Will the sewer and storm lines proposed to be built along the river also be combined? Given that most of the water running through the riverbeds in dry seasons is from sewer and storm water lines, where will the water flow into the rivers from if separate sewer and storm water lines are to be built? If, in dry seasons, the river water is expected to come wholly from the water treatment facilities, will this be enough to create running rivers throughout the dry seasons? Can the storm water hazards during the rainy season only be controlled by in situ measures, or are there measures to be implemented beyond the immediate vicinity of the rivers? Are the existing and proposed heavy retention walls and flood control structures necessary if the storm water control measures mentioned above are implemented? 4. The Construction Process The pilot project is expected to be completed in approximately mid-2020 to coincide with the 50thanniversary of the China-Ethiopia diplomatic tie. In fact, part of the project, named Friendship Square, was inaugurated on September 10, 2020 on the Ethiopian New Year. However, the park is not yet open to the public, and construction work is still underway in some parts of the site. Friendship Square is only a small part of the entire project; however, it is a good indicator for how this may transform the entire river landscape and the connected urban spaces. We have made repeated visits to the park (within its perimeters and from the outside), conducted informal interviews, and have taken photographic documentation. Among our findings is that aside from the concrete embankments, the proposed ideas in the concept note – as well as the wildly publicized design – are not being implemented. The riverside development under way and completed (Pictures: Sinkneh Eshetu, 2020) The concrete embankment is even being built in places where the slopes are gentler; which could have been designed in a way for the people and wildlife to interact with the river, adjacent soils, and vegetation. Moreover, it is easily noticeable that sewer and stormwater lines are still emptied into the riverbeds at the completed sites, as well as in the sites under construction. This research will explore whether these are permanent outlets or will later be diverted to storm and sewer lines proposed in the concept note to be built along the rivers. Though the Friendship Square is constructed on a site that was cleared a few years ago for another project and people are not currently being displaced, we are told that young people from the surrounding area are hired in the project in different capacities. Though we did not interview them during our visits, we have seen them working as gardeners, cleaners, and in other areas. The project will soon be expanding to the Eribekentu area that lies opposite Friendship Park, separated from it only by a road, which is still heavily populated by several informal housings which have been in existence for decades. The people in these areas have been told that they are soon be relocated. So far, they are also not formally participating in the design and construction process. Some among them expressed their wish for the project to transform the area without the need for relocation. Works have already begun in other areas the pilot project is expected to include, such as Peacock or Central Park. This area is one of the few public parks that has been in existence for a long time. This is a flood plain where the vegetable gardens are relatively wide, engaging a large number of families. The “owners” of these gardens, some of whom have been working on the land for decades (though the land is actually owned by the public), hope that they will continue to “own” and work on their farms during the coming project. As the informal settlers and farmers are willing to be interviewed, we plan to approach them later with formal interviews to learn their attitudes and ideas about the impending change. This research is yet to find out whether the same Chinese landscape architect, who designed the Friendship Park, will design other parts of the pilot project with or without the participation of local professionals, and whether or not the current local consultants will continue with their tangential contributions. IV. INTERNATIONAL EXPERIENCES, TRENDS AND GOOD PRACTICES Around the world, we are beginning to recognise that the treatment of urban river banks and other water bodies with hard infrastructure without considering the natural ecosystem causes incalculable damage. This recognition is motivating designers, as well as city administrators, to take precautions to re-naturalise urban rivers. This trend has taken several approaches which could serve as an invaluable lesson for the Ethiopian context. We have been collecting and selecting different cases from around the world related to the re-naturalisation of urban rivers; natural flooding; erosion and landslide hazard control measures; innovations in dealing with urban complexity and heritage preservation in river rehabilitation projects; and green infrastructure, aesthetics, ecology & survival. These selected cases and lessons, with a due consideration for trends and cases in China, will be presented to the public, as well as professionals, in a way that they may generate awareness and dialogue, which may be used as input in the further design and development of Addis Ababa’s rivers. V. Public Attitude and Engagement A cursory review of social media about the public attitude towards Beautifying Sheger project mostly reveals support, excitement, and appreciation. Some critical voices are heard once in a while. Some of these voices consider such extravagant gardens as luxuries and suggest that this should not be the government’s priority. Others decry the further displacement of citizens and the near total erasure of public memory, which has been ongoing for years in many urban development projects. The impact of the widely publicized Beautifying Sheger River Development project is already starting to be seen. Some other cities in the country are beginning to plan and design similar public spaces and riverside development projects. One of these designs, that of Jimma City, was recently shared on a Facebook group called Ethiopian Architecture and Urbanism [16] . Taking this as an opportunity, we attempted to engage the public and professionals to discuss the Addis Ababa project under consideration. Another discussion was on the heritages and ruins around Addis Ababa (particularly those on Entoto Hill). Some attempts are also made to engage with key decision makers by commenting on their twitter postings. One of these comments was seen by a person in Pakistan who inquired about our findings as similar things are happening in his country. Similar indirect engagements will continue until the research organizes its own events and discussions to sensitize authorities and the public on the probable negative impacts of Beautifying Sheger. Given our current global situation and the condition of the country (COVID-19 and the conflict in Tigray region), other strategies could be planned to safely engage the public. The informal engagements mentioned above indicate that this research has the potential to influence decisions and practices in Ethiopia and beyond it. This will be more so if well planned events are organized, and publicly sharable documentations such as videos are produced, should resources and conditions permit. Sinkneh Eshetu (penname: O’Tam Pulto) is a published author and landscape architect. Aziza Abdulfetah Busser is a landscape designer; practising professional architect, and academician. Berhanu is an anthropologist in African Studies. [1] The Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front. [2] Terrefe, B. (2020). Urban layers of political rupture: the “new” politics of Addis Ababa’s megaprojects . Journal of Eastern African Studies. DOI: 10.1080/17531055.2020.1774705. [3] Concept Note. (May 18, 2019). Addis Ababa City River Side Green Development . [4] State of NSW and Department of Environment and Climate Change. (2008). Cultural landscapes and park management: a literature snapshot – a report for the cultural landscapes: connecting history, heritage and reserve management research project . Sydney South, Australia. [5] Concept Note. (May 18, 2019). Addis Ababa City River Side Green Development . [6] Terrefe, B. (2020). Urban layers of political rupture: the “new” politics of Addis Ababa’s megaprojects . Journal of Eastern African Studies. DOI: 10.1080/17531055.2020.1774705. [7] Reference to Captain James Cook (1728-1779) who used this term, employed by the British, to justify occupation of a territory on behalf of the Crown, when they claimed possession of Australia. [8] Note: the Chinese government has a slightly different definition for “aid project” ( yuanzhu gongcheng ) which follows market principles (Deborah Brautigam 2009:115). The content of these so-called aid projects can vary case by case. Typically, large construction projects involve the client, constructor, supervisor, and loaner. In other projects contracted to Chinese companies, the Ethiopian government and the International Development Association are often the clients, and the projects are financed through Chinese banks such as Sino Eximbank. [9] CCCC Wins the Contract of Riverside Project, Erecting a Stele of Development and Friendship . http://www.zgzjwx.org/detail/2d0kjg.html . Access Time: September 10, 2020. [10] Derissen, Miriam. 2019. Tales of Hope, Tastes of Bitterness: Chinese Road Builders in Ethiopia . Hong Kong University Press. [11] For instance, in examining a road construction program in Ethiopia, Driessen (2019) argues that Chinese ignorance of Ethiopia’s labour regulations, as well as the legal protectionism, stems intrinsically from Ethiopia’s political system in which the local state is marginalised in federal-initiated road programs; and it is the local states which often bring Chinese companies to court. Through court decisions, the local administrations form a de facto alliance with local workers [to instead] push through a number of design revisions beneficial to local communities [though without necessarily requiring the consultation of local experts or expertise]. [12] Bräutigam, Deborah. 2009. The Dragon’s Gift: The Real Story of China in Africa . Oxford University Press. [13] Derissen, Miriam. 2019. Tales of Hope, Tastes of Bitterness: Chinese Road Builders in Ethiopia . Hong Kong University Press. [14] Terrefe, B. (2020). Urban layers of political rupture: the “new” politics of Addis Ababa’s megaprojects . Journal of Eastern African Studies. DOI: 10.1080/17531055.2020.1774705. [15] Beyene, M. N. (June, 2016). Urbanization and Its Effect on Surface Runoff: A Case Study on Great Akaki River, Addis Ababa, Ethiopia . Addis Ababa University, Addis Ababa Institute of Technology. [16] https://www.facebook.com/groups/665698490519013/?multi_permalinks=1082731795482345¬if_id=1607455244518798¬if_t=group_highlights&ref=notif Previous Next

< Back Stories from the room - Conversation 21 Feb 2022 Jasphy Zheng Stories from the Room project by Jasphy Zheng has been implemented in many locations including Shanghai, Addis Ababa and Bor among others. Participants and organizers of the project in different locals gathered to reflect on situating the project locally. After this meeting, we continue to work on a permanent home for Stories from the Room achieve in Public Library Bor. Participants in conversation were Jasphy Zheng (artist), Violeta Stojmenovic (Public Library, Bor), Larys Frogier (director Rockbund Art Museum), and Dawit Seto and Sarah Bushra (Contemporary Nights, Addis Ababa) and Biljana Ciric (WCSCD). Previous Next

< Back Corena* Musings Addis Ababa 15 Apr 2020 Sarah Bushra I am writing this text safely tucked in a studio apartment in Basha Wolde Condominium , Arat Kilo, Addis Ababa. Although the city is not in total lockdown, I barely leave my home, except for sporadic coffee breaks at a café downstairs. At least once a day, I make my way down from the fourth floor – pausing at the balcony of each story to look out at the city and check if it is still there and indeed intact between my climbs down each staircase. The pauses get longer with the passing days, and my gazes more unsure and less futile. Balcony Series – Addis Ababa, Sarah Bushra. There seems to be so much time stretching between the sips one cup packs, to embody all the possibilities the coffee’s dreamy color alludes to. Yet, sitting on a low stool and staring down the road, the day suddenly dusks and I realize there’s no time at all. It’s been 4 weeks since the first confirmed case was announced in Ethiopia, 3 weeks since the government banned all public gatherings, 3 weeks since schools and universities shut down, 5 days since the first reported COVID-19 death. There are new languid movements my limbs have adopted as they move through the day – in stark contrast to the lilting anxiety that sits at the opening of my throat. I think of my eyes and imagine how this lethargy translates into my vision. I see a wave, a certain dissolution and emergence of communities – as the physical spaces fade and the virtual appears. Among the many articles, listicles, memes, and mantras I encountered online that urge us to reflect on the changing times brought about by the global pandemic, one stood out to me, captivating in its subtlety. Tamrat Gezahegne shares on his Facebook account pictures of his stone carving installation. These images are less of a call to action as they are a solace, inviting us to the tranquility the artwork offers. My mind wanders to the meditative act of carving a stone, remembering Louise Bourgeois as she says: “….the thing that had to be said was so difficult and so painful that you have to hack it out of yourself and so you hack it out of the material, a very, very hard material.” Selected stone Carvings, Tamrat Gezahegne. Images shared with permission of the artist. Thinking about the physicality of the rock, despite what it refuses to do, Gezahegne has carved it to fit his imagination. Empathy is my entry point to his work. Reflecting on his perseverance and the repetitive force he used to hack, I ask what the thing was that has to be said that was so painful, maybe in this case, so alien and unprecedented. When the Ministry of Health in Ethiopia announced the first case of Corona in the country, I saw huddles of people, mostly mothers living in my apartment complex talking in hushed tones. I imagined at one point every conversation in the world dominated by Corona. All of us connected with this invisible string of whispers scuttling through our ears. Art makes this link apparent and visceral, as if we all are components of one physical body connected through the veins under our skin. Selected paintings, Selome Muleta. Images shared with permission of the artist. Scrolling down artist Selome Muleta’s feed is like peering through a hole into her private unraveling, performed beautifully and with care. We see the figure in her paintings shuffle in her bed from one side to the other, dressing and undressing through the day, cross-legged and ideally sitting facing the wall, before she melts into her surrounding, no different from the rigid and inanimate room she occupies. I imagine us, Addis dwellers engaged in a collective struggle to swallow the concept of physical distancing and self-isolation and I wonder what small things are letting them linger at the back of our throat floating in a thick fluid of uncertainty. We are now constantly attentive to where our hands might fall, as if they had not once freely landed on the brackets of our neighbor’s folded arm, or cupped a stranger child’s cheek, or hoisted the trailing corner of netela and flung it across the back of a woman rushing out from the neighborhood suk . These acts of intimacies that threaded people into communities are now replaced with static jerks as we remember that it’s no longer okay to hug, kiss or shake hands. As the government tallies the positive cases from a meager pool of tests, the real fear of most Addis Abebes come from imagining the impending fate, when the virus surges into our community in full force as it has done into other metropolises across the globe. On April 8, the Ethiopian government issued a State of Emergency, the fourth one in three years, urging citizens to take the necessary precautions, abide by the sanctioned laws, support one another, and nurture a spiritual relationship with God. Thus far Ethiopians’ strongest grounding against the unsettling nature of the virus has been a spiritual armor. On April 6, the Ethiopian Religious Council officiated the beginning of a one-month long prayer period among all religions represented in the country. The pandemic escalating in the middle of Lent, priests have been burning incense on the streets of Addis, to protect the city from COVID-19. The smoke in the air is reminiscent of the trash burning tradition on Hidar 12 (St. Michael’s day), of each year to commemorate the Spanish flu that took the lives of many Ethiopians in 1918. Alula Pankhurst draws our attention to this correlation in his post that includes his picture of a hazy Addis as the city celebrates the pandemic’s centennial by burning trash. He cautions those that criticize this traditional and historical practice and asks if we remember COVID-19 in 100 years, how will we commemorate it? I noticed my mind wouldn’t trail to memory-scape pressed by the immediate curiosity of how all this is going to end. But I imagine the post-COVID world will be defined by the company we keep now amidst the storm. This pandemic challenges and disrupts our understanding of community. It confronts us with our loneliness, unveiling the true nature of our ties, not only as we exist confined alone or with a select few, but also by unveiling the true nature of our ties to people, places, and ideologies. * Corona virus as it’s commonly pronounced by Ethiopians. It echoes sentiments of breaking/disrupting language as a form of resistance, reminiscent of Maaza Mengiste’s words in her war novel, The Shadow King, “the deliberate mispronunciation has spread across the country, started by those who did not know better and continued by those who do. It is another sign of [Ethiopians’] rebellion, another sign that they are trying to fight in every way that they can.” (Mengiste, Maaza. The Shadow King. W W Norton, 2019.) Sarah Bushra is a multi-disciplinary artist based in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, working primarily with a hybrid of text and images. Previous Next