, February 22, 1985
Page 4
Guilfordian—
Memories of Munich=
Stephen Spaulding
I am trying very hard to con
centrate on Germany now, and to
think of something that I could
tell you that you in some remote
way could relate to. I think I
should admit defeat and give up.
As an introduction, I guess I
could tell you what the heck 1 am
talking about. Last semester,
thirty-five or so students got bold
and took a semester abroad. We
all decided on Munich, Germany.
Within this great group of thirty
five, each person had his own
reason for venturing over the
great Atlantic to a new world.
Like the Pilgrims we went, only
we were now going to a land with
quite varied inhabitants, and
ways of life already established
that were very much unlike our
own. I think I speak for the gang
in saying - I was scared witless
(but glad I had come).
1 dare not bore you with all the
gorry details fo the trip. That, I
think, would be unfair. You, the
readers, unfortunately were not
there. If there is one thing 1 hate
it is enduring the telling of an ex
perience that someone else has
had-from a place that I have
never been. None the less, on with
the story. I had the abroad ex
perience and you did not.
Germany was wonderful. Can
you even relate to that? Wonder
ful, like something you have
never experienced before...like a
new girlfriend, all's new, with the
new frills and thrills, her new
trills and thrills! Like, a good
grade on a test-truly, a one time
thing. The best; need I say more?
I guess, as a blossoming new
reporter, in my own eyes of
course, I have a job to do. That
job is to make you see and feel
Munich, Germany, as you read.
Come with me if you dare, to
the market-place of Munich, Ger
many. Yes. I know what it is in
German. But, most of you don't.
It's like coming home from Ger
many all over again with every
mother and her child asking me
to say something in German. I'm
glad some ot those ladies didn't
7 Jig
jHiiß
ii- y^^p^i^:-
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speak German. What was I talk
ing about? Yes, the Market
place. Picture first, a clear day.
Yes, German blue skies are just
like ours-my mother's favorite
question. Picture a statue, any
statue will do, say, about twenty
feet high. The statue is an old
bronzed brown look. Around this
statue, place five or six hundred
people, a couple of dozen stores
ranging from outdoor fruit
stands to stores comparable to
Macy's in Washington. People,
from everywhere, some wearing
their traditional garb, most
speaking their home language
everything ranging from Arabic,
to French and yes, German. All
these people and buildings are
placed around the statue in a cir
cle, a huge circle. On the right of
the statue, I see an array of seats
set out for people to come and sit,
to talk, drink and watch people.
And, the place is spotless, just
like the subways. I see on the left,
the Greasers (like Fonzie),
followed by the wildest punk
rockers I have ever seen, with a
group of gorgeous Italian girls
nicely pulling up the rear. Pic
ture, people all over the place,
each one doing his or her own
thing. A lot of tourists flood the
area, taking pictures, pointing,
asking me, in English, if I speak
English. I answer "no," in
English. As I write, I feel myself
leaving the realm of the reader
who has yet to go the Munich. It's
like trying to tell someone about
the high ropes course, or outward
bound, or why you came to
Guilford all the way from where
you came. Are you understan
ding? The Munich semester
changed my life. Because I went,
I will never be the same again.
My descriptions, any I would at
tempt, would fall short. How to
describe Eindorf, or West-
Berlin? Germany, is way outta
this world, and my head is ex
ploding. All of you that have
been, think back as I do. All of
you that haven't, talk to someone
who has. You'll get the same
remarks-GO TO MUNICH!!
—Good Day!
Alvin Ailey Performance
'Perfection
Stephen Spaulding
Alvin Ailey. Never again will
that name strike the same chords
in my head as it once did. It once
meant to me bright lights-neon
style. The preverbial "name up
in lights" pops into my thoughts.
These thoughts conjure up
thoughts of far-off places like
New York and Broadway, or
some other equally distant place
to us, the normal, the untalented
ones that dwell on this earth. You
know how the process goes, you
hear a name of a group and a cou
ple of sets of peole, or two, tell
you how good they are and you've
become an expert. I had become
one of those type experts-the
group, The Alvin Ailey Dance
Ensemble. I considered myself a
good hearsay expert. While stu
dying Dance at the School of the
Arts in Winston-Salem, I was first
introduced to the name Alvin
Ailey. And, after a few weeks, I
could hold a competent conversa
tion an AA. On performance
(date) my hearsay expertise end
ed. I had finally seen the famed
Ailey dance troup.
I think back of the night in
Dana Auditorium, and my mouth
still gapes open in the preverbial
awe of the movements the au
dience witnessed. I simply could
not believe what I was seeing. It
was-perfection. I sit and wish for
my body to be able to move as
theirs did, free, graceful, power
ful, full of energy. Picture if you
will, a balloon. Picture it floating
through the air, un-hesitating,
smooth and graceful. Confident
Movie Review
"Killing Fields "
Lifts Ignorance
By Lois Haas
Cambodia. For most
Americans the name renders im
ages of bombed-out thatch
villages, deep in decay;
emaciated thousands in over
crowded refugee camps. The
American psyche peceives that
country through a fog of sym
pathy that is pregnant with the
plight of uncomprehending
Western mentality. (We know the
misery is there, but we cannot
really relate to it.) Even more
forcefully present in the
Americans mind in terms of
Cambodia - and other Asian coun
tries that survive as victims of
the Vietnam war - is ignorance.
As Americans, we have found it
far easier to bear the humiliation
of losing the Vietnam War by
simply ignoring it and the entire
dishonorable affair. The violent
campus protests, the deceit of the
Nixon Administration, the bombs
dropped by the U.S. Air Force
ly, the dancers glided, just like a
balloon-patiently waiting an out
side force, choregraphy in this
case, to make their bodies
matriculate the next series of
moves extraordonaire! I feel
hung helplessly out on a limb,
with my safety depending on my
ability to give an accurate
description. To say the dancers
were strong, in dance terms
means the dancers were balanc
ed, confident, and looked
centered with their jumps, and
lifts, along with other varied
dance moves of which long
descriptions would deem boring.
Regardless. The Ailey group was
by no means boring. They were
perhaps the most exciting dance
troupe I have seen in a while. I've
seen alot of troupes in the last few
years, everyone ranging from
Gus Giordano to The North
Carolina Dnace Theater, (jazz,
ballet, Respectively)
The Ailey Dancers add a new
twist to words performing. I saw
intense, serious dance. I saw in
tense, comical dance. I saw in
tense care-free latin-style dance.
The Ailey dancers covered all
realms of theater-art. Yet, not a
word was spoken. I think of the
beginning of the performance-the
soft red-lit background like a
sunset of a Bahamas
postcard. The music, soft, light,
making you take in all the
dancers were communicating
nonverbally. All, Latin-style-hot
and spicy. The second part taken
right out of the era of "sweet
that saturated Vietnam, Laos and
Cambodia in their own blood and
American blood - it seems we suc
cessfully repress all those hor
rors with new political marvels
(or illusions?) such as "the new
American patriotism" inspired
by Ronald Reagan. And then, just
when we have deceived ourselves
to the point of complete ig
norance, the Vietnam War and
the wars it generated assault our
conscience with brutal accuracy.
"The Killing Fields" is one such
catalyst of the conscience.
The movie presents the true
story of NEW YORK TIMES
journalist Sydney Schanberg.
Covering the Cambodian aspect
of the Vietnam War, Schanberg
was present when Phnom Penh
(the Cambodian capital) fell to
the Communist Khmer Rouge in
1975. Schanberg employed a well
educated Cambodian, Dirth
Pran, as his translator. The main
Georgia Brown." The time when
women were spunky and free.
The time when men were men
and women were women and the
women knew who wore the pants.
They wore them under their
skimpy dresses over their black
lacy hose. The music was
tasteful-raunch if I could be per
mitted to say. Sheer comedy
prevails as real woman meets
real man and real chaos erupts as
the women ends up, as usual on
top. I was taken back to an era I
never knew. Never will my
thoughts return, unless I see the
Alvin Ailey once again. The third
movement, entiteld The Colony,
most impressed me. Maybe, it
was the music-slow, intense, or
the costumes-new wave, modern.
I waited throughout this piece for
an explosion of energy. The
dancers could not possible keep
that energy balled-up inside. I
felt this supressed enegy most in
their contractions, which almost
pulled me out of my seat to the
stage to attempt. They make dan
cing look so easy. That night, like
each of you probably did, I went
home and tried what I had seen
the dancers do. I, failed, too.
Their dancing reminded me of
the ultimate sports car, creeping
slowly by. We each yearn for it to
explode forward with a slam of
the accelerator-01100 in 1 second.
Only it does not accelerate, it con
tinues slowly by allowing you
time to drool over its every intri
quicy. You beg for more, then its
gone.. - until next year, maybe.
focus of the movie is Pran's fate
in Cambodia once the Khmer
Rouge takes control. But more
than just presenting a moving,
true story of Pran's heroism,
"The Killing Fields" exposes the
viewer to exactly what the title
implies: the acres of death in
which Cambodia was seeped dur
ing the struggle between Com
munism and anti-Communism.
In seeing "The Killing Fields"
Americans may realize just what
little they know of the whole Cam
bodian affair and the three years
of secret bombing of Cambodia
by the U.S. The realization of ig
norance is the beginning of over
coming ignorance, and all the
guilt produced by "The Killing
Fields" just might provoke we
Americans to face the Vietnam
War. In facing it, we can accept it
and learn from it. And perhaps
never again be cultivators in
"The Killing Fields."