This year, 535 poetic passports were sold, at events, book fairs and online. Considering that it’s self-published and that I dedicated most of the year to other writing projects, thats not a bad number. This includes 180 in English, 129 in French, 115 in Spanish, 53 in Maltese, and smaller numbers in Italian, German, Macedonian and Luxembourgish. 33% of the proceeds will be donated to associations that provide support to refugees and asylum seekers in different countries (according to where the event took place, or which collaborating association was chosen by the buyer on the online form). Another 33% is split between the designer, the illustrators, and the translators (of for want of a better word, ‘adaptors’ - each version is carefully adapted to the cultures, contexts and rhythms of their particular language). Today 30th December marks the 5th birthday of the ‘Passport’ poem. 2014 has been a difficult year for me personally and I was close to abandoning the project altogether, but two things kept it going. Firstly, the wonderful people I collaborate with, and their contagious energy. Jean-marc Bourg, Elizabeth Grech, Rafael Rivera, Ciara Ryan, Biagio Lieti, Pieter Van de Paverd, Marco Scerri, and many others. Secondly and more importantly for all of us involved, the response of the audiences. After Jean-Marc’s powerful performance of the poem at the Festival Instants Vidéo Poétiques in Marseille, a young man from Afghanistan, Hazara I believe, asked me if he could exchange his récépissé - a piece of paper he must carry on him at all times, proof that his asylum application has been submitted to the French authorities - for an anti-passport. The following morning, I was told that there were other asylum seekers in the audience, and that they were very touched by the poem; they laughed their hearts out, and were happy to finally hear someone describing the absurdity of their journey and situation. Of course, the Passport is not the first nor last artistic work to attempt to relate the experience of forced nomads. Part of my own rootlessness is in the poem too, but its the tip of the iceberg. The refugees comment woke me up, and helped to teach me an important lesson. Never let your roots - or lack of them - strangle your vocation and dedication. Other highlights this year included watching Jean-Marc and Franck Vigroux’s musical-theatrical adaptation of the poem to a full house at the Voix de la Méditerranée festival in Lodève; the amazing hospitality in Sarajevo, where I met some fantastic activists of the No Border Movement; participating in an insightful discussion on borders and creative campaigning with members of Young Friends of the Earth Europe in Brussels; and reading a part of the poem at the Malta Mediterranean Literature Festival, accompanied by Walid Nabhan reciting from his highly rhythmical Arabic version - which is yet to be edited and published, as promised to the young Syrian refugees at the migrant open centre in Ħal Far. Creativity and activism are useless without collaboration and friendship. As I said two months ago, without the enthusiasm (and patience!) of all the people I have to thank, the anti-passport would have been burnt a long time ago. Its the other passports, the real ones issued by nation-state governments, that need abolishing. Unless one day they all share the same value, instead of deciding who is and who isnt deserving of freedom of movement according to monetary, religious or ethnic criteria. The Passport is a poem of protest, but more importantly, its also a love poem. The journey continues. Grazzi. Happy and borderless new year to all. --- Antoine (photo by Milton Fernàndez)
Posted on: Tue, 30 Dec 2014 23:46:38 +0000
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