Live Virtual Group Session: 6PM EDT July 12th 2021

Thank you to everyone who joined for this session!

Our text for this session was The Nobodies by Eduardo Galeano (translated by Cedric Belfrage), posted below.

Our prompt for this session was: “Write about the dreams of the nobodies.”

More details on this session will be posted, so check back!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (“Leave a Reply”), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if you’re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Wednesday July 14th at 6pm EDT, with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions page.


Los Nadies (Eduardo Galeano)
Sueñan las pulgas con comprarse un perro
y sueñan los nadies con salir de pobre,
que algún mágico día llueva de pronto la buena suerte,
que llueva a cántaros la buena suerte:
pero la buena suerte no llueve ayer,
ni hoy ni mañana ni nunca,
ni en llovizna cae del cielo la buena suerte,
por mucho que los nadies la llamen y aunque les pique
la mano izquierda,
o se levanten con el pie derecho,
o empiecen el año cambiando de escoba.
Los nadies:
los hijos de nadie, los dueños de nada.
Los nadies,
los ningunos, los ninguneados.
Corriendo las liebres, muriendo la vida, jodidos,
rejodidos:
Que no son, aunque sean.
Que no hablan idiomas sino dialectos.
Que no profesan religiones, sino supersticiones.
Que no hacen arte, sino artesanía.
Que no practican cultura, sino folclore.
Que no son seres humanos, sino recursos humanos.
Que no tienen cara, sino brazos.
Que no tienen nombre, sino número.
Que no figuran en la historia universal.
Sino en las páginas rojas de la prensa local.
Los nadies.
Que cuestan menos que la bala que los mata.


The Nobodies by Eduardo Galeano (translated by Cedric Belfrage)
Fleas dream of buying themselves a dog, and nobodies dream of escaping poverty: that one magical day good luck will suddenly rain down on them–will rain down in buckets. But good luck doesn’t rain down yesterday, today, tomorrow, or ever. Good luck doesn’t even fall in a fine drizzle, no matter how hard the nobodies summon it, even if their left hand is tickling, or if they begin the new day with their right foot, or start the new year with a change of brooms.

The nobodies: nobody’s children, owners of nothing.
The nobodies: the no ones, the nobodied, running like rabbits, dying through life, screwed every which way.

Who are not, but could be.
Who don’t speak languages, but dialects.
Who don’t have religions, but superstitions.
Who don’t create art, but handicrafts.
Who don’t have culture, but folklore.
Who are not human beings, but human resources.
Who do not have faces, but arms.
Who do not have names, but numbers.
Who do not appear in the history of the world, but in the police blotter of the local paper.
The nobodies, who are not worth the bullet that kills them.

5 thoughts on “Live Virtual Group Session: 6PM EDT July 12th 2021

  1. About the dreams of the nobodies~~~

    I stand here in the shadows, the dark threatening skies above me.
    Who sees me, who recognizes me?
    I fear no one.
    I do not look like them or sound like them
    But my blood runs red just like theirs.
    My heart aches when my child is ill.
    My tears run freely when a loved one passes from this earth.
    I have the same dreams for my children,
    of having a better life than I did.
    That they will be proud of their heritage,
    of their family who gave them so much love to help buffer the pokes and prods of the society around them.

    I get on my knees,
    looking upward,
    hoping that one day
    I and others like me
    will be accepted.
    To be part of the whole.
    That’s all I want.

    Like

  2. al3793

    Do I even dare to dream,
    one who is nothingness
    who is invisible?
    Maybe I am unable to dream of
    something of substance
    things that exist only in the thin air
    of the recesses of my unconscious mind.
    Perhaps my dreams, ethereal as they may be
    are all that I can expect
    to lift my sprit
    to hope that
    someday
    nothing
    will prevent others
    from seeing and embracing
    the humanity of the Nobodies, Los Nadies…

    MY humanity that I share with the world.

    Andre

    Like

  3. Patricia D.

    Do they dream?
    Who are they – the no dreamers?
    You? Me? Us? Them?
    What would they dream of?
    Love, passion, delicious 5-course meals, happy children,
    or simply rainbows, warm raindrops, cool rivers?
    What will it take to transform nightmares into dreams?
    A wish? A belief? Hope? Love? Faith?

    Like

  4. Fiona Reilly

    We dream of safe places
    to lay our children to sleep,
    and other places
    to lay our bodies when the struggle is done

    We dream of love and of riches of feeling,
    of time to write love poems,
    of paper to write love poems,
    of poems

    We dream of good health, of robust strong bodies striding through the years,
    of uncomplicated slumber
    and of waking refreshed, of fulsome appetites and
    satisfied hungers

    And we dream of minds untroubled,
    unsaddled,
    unburdened by being
    a nobody

    Like

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