AMY

I am reaching the final stages of my project, developing workshop pieces about the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission and watching, over and over again, footage from the TRC.

It is heartbreaking.

It is also heartbuilding.

Over and over again I listen to the cry of Nomonde Calata.

Over and over again I hear the phrases "Craddock 4", "Gugulethu 7."

Over and over again I hear the name Amy Biehl.

How do I explain the resonance these sounds have for me? Do I even wish, do I even need, to explain? Perhaps some resonances are best left open and unexplained. Perhaps some things can be felt but not expressed. I suffer no romantic illusions about the TRC and I am full of romantic illusions. Perhaps that is what catharsis is, perhaps that is what empathy is - a set of impressions, pictures and sounds that are stronger and more durable than syllogisms, premises and conclusions.

And what is this connection to Amy Biehl that is newly developed in me? A fellow Fulbrighter, a white woman, an uncompromising, hard-headed academic full of empathy and passion. More and more her name resonates within me, her story resonates within me. It is become a bell forever tolling, a model to work towards, a story to repeat. Over and over.

My heart is full, my mind is full, my eyes are full: with pain, with joy, with ideas, with goals, with tears, with respect, with admiration, with wonder, with the loss of mothers and the giving up of ego. Mongeni, Linda, Amy ... these people who will populate my dreams, and my work, and my future.

Over and over again my heart breaks for the loss that all these people suffered.

Over and over again my heart is rebuilt through the empathy these people built and the work they undertake.

Over and over.

A story, a name, a heart, a bell, a cry, a tear, a mind, a phrase, an impression, a refrain.

Over and over.