A tribute to Ann Somerhausen

Ann Somerhausen

The BWC is in mourning over the loss of one of our loveliest and longest-standing members, Ann Somerhausen. Wise, honest, a little bit cheeky and always classy, here we share some memories and stories about our dear friend, and how she touched our lives. Our little group is the less without her.

“Ann had been coming to the BWC for the best part of ten years and was one of our staunchest members. I will particularly remember her for her novel, The Runaway Housewife, which she completed (several times indeed!) with the help of the group and which, in my opinion, was the most commercial and publishable novel I have seen from a group member. It’s only sad that Ann did not live to see it appear on bookshelves everywhere as it so richly deserves.

She also produced memorable works on her life as a diplomat’s wife in Cuba, Brazil and in India and read these out to the group. Her latest contribution to the BWC was to host the Sunday afternoon sessions at her apartment in Uccle.

We will greatly miss her.”
David Ellard

“I saw Ann twice. She was the person who left the strongest memory of my very first meetings with the BWC. I was struck by her grace. I still remember vividly an aura of light illuminating the place where she was sitting. She was wearing a beautiful hat and she was dressed like an elegant woman of times gone, bringing with her all the memories of a lifetime, the wisdom and the peaceful reconciliation. We talked about her house in Long Island, which she was hoping to sell. Her soft voice still resonates, as when she invited us to Sunday readings at her place, giving us all the instructions to get there, sweetly reassuring us that there would be tea served…

I regret not having had the chance to attend Sunday meetings at her place and to listen to her stories. There hasn’t been enough time to get closer to you, Ann. But I will not forget your light.”
Barbara Mariani

“I once commented to Ann that when I first heard of the Writers’ Group my thoughts were of a group of people like the Algonquin Roundtable, but later I felt embarrassed for thinking so. She said, ‘But why should you feel embarrassed? We are like the people of the Algonquin Roundtable.’ Indeed.”
Nathan Johnson

“One evening after a BWC meeting, Julien and I invited Ann back to our apartment for a drink. I think it says a lot about Ann that she was perfectly happy at the idea of coming home with two 30-year olds she only knew through the writers’ group, at 10 o’clock at night. That evening she told us stories about her incredible life, and it wasn’t until she mentioned getting married in 1946 that we realised she was much older than we’d thought. That’s just it: she was always so engaged, so spirited, so productive and independent, that you never would’ve imagined she was in her 80s. Then again, my grandmother is the same (and she was born in the same year, in the same country), which is one reason I always felt at home with Ann: it was like having a slightly saucier version of my own grandmother with me, living as I do very far away from my actual grandmother.

I saw her at pretty much every meeting I went to, and each time I looked forward to her strikingly honest comments (she had a way of ‘telling it like it is’ when she thought something was no good, and yet she somehow managed to be diplomatic about it at the same time) her classy outfits and her gentle smile. For me she really was at the heart of the group, and in her tales and her comments she expressed what it’s all about: honesty, dedication and, of course, a big wallop of humour. It’s almost impossible to believe that I won’t be seeing her again. I’ll really miss you, Ann.”
Sarah Wiecek

“I can’t believe she is no longer with us. She was such an inspiration and a wonderful member of the group.”
Sarah Van Hove

“Ann was seated at The Falstaff on my very first Thursday session. I immediately took to her and Kathleen. Perhaps it was a subconscious connection to fellow Americans as I’d only recently moved to Brussels from Chicago or maybe it’s because Ann and Kathleen were very much like ladies from my beloved writers’ group I left behind in Chicago. Ann was one of the reasons I kept coming back.

Ann was bright, engaged and had a lot of spunk. She had a creative spirit, embracing all types of writing and encouraging every writer. The last time I saw Ann was the Thursday before her birthday. We were at the Falstaff, putting on our coats at session’s end. She was proud to tell me that she was turning 86, happy to be celebrating with her kids. But what made her most happy was my telling her how much I was enjoying Brussels. She flashed a grin of someone proud of her adopted home. Then we parted, going off into the Brussels night. No doubt, it was drizzling.”
Todd Arkenberg

“Ann will be deeply missed.”
Klavs Skovsholm

“I’ve lost a very dear friend of many years. Our friendship goes back to the American Women’s Club which we both joined in the 1990s. We met at the Club attending one of the meetings of its Writers’ Group. At that time Ann wrote short stories. She even got a literary agent in New York who helped her to publish one of them in Miami. Unfortunately, I don’t have a copy.

We both were learning how to use those early computers for consumers, like Amstrad. We were frustrated and delighted when we mastered one or another trick. I was working at my first novel ‘Nadine. Meeting in Paris,’ which she liked very much. I had a small success with the first draft among my circle of readers but did not find a publisher and moved to active journalism.

Meanwhile, Ann moved to South America and later to North America. But I remained in regular contact with her, her diplomat husband Jean and other members of her family.

On her regular visits to Brussels we always met. Otherwise, there were letters. The main bond between us was our writing. As you all know, not only final things matter, but ideas and projects as well. Ann and I had a lot of projects and enjoyed discussing them.

It was then that Ann started working on her ‘Cuba Memoir’, though rather cautiously, because some people from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs –prototypes of her characters – were still alive and she was reluctant to put their names into print. She came back to the ‘Cuba Memoir’ a few years ago and finally her book entitled Hostage in Havana was published on Amazon. She presented it at the American Women’s Club. The proceeds from the sales went to a nursing home in Brussels. The library of the American Women’s Club has a copy.

Our annual trips to the weeklong writers’ courses in Paris given by the American University strengthened our friendship more than anything else. Then there was our common political views and love for literature.

When Ann and Jean moved back to Brussels about nine years ago, we once again met regularly. Ann tried to resurrect the writers’ group at the AWC but it did not last long and then we both came to the BWC. She loved the group and the members’ writings very much and when she was not traveling she tried not to miss a session.

We lived close to one another and frequently attended some events together like meetings of ‘Les Amis de la Monnaie’ or ‘Democrats abroad’.

We both contributed our articles to Rendez-Vous magazine which was published first monthly then quarterly by the AWC. Ann covered the books, both those recently published and classics. Everybody enjoyed her reviews. They will be missed.

She was a regular visitor in our house and got to know my daughter and her family. Our guests enjoyed listening to her stories about exotic places, where she and Jean lived and about their sailing voyages.

She was generous, interested in people, life, opera, music. Up to the last moment she continued visiting her friends and her family, traveling within Europe and to the US. For years every summer she attended a Shakespeare festival in California with her sister Pat.

Losing her husband, a companion of over 50 years, was a severe blow but Ann resumed writing, completed her first book, then a second one entitled ‘Runaway Housewife,’ which many members of the BWC have heard. She started working on a third book, her ‘Indian Memoir’ based on letters she and Jean wrote at the start of 1950s.

She was very good persuading people to complete the projects. I remember one particular case when she tried to persuade Kathleen to proceed with her book. I hope Kathleen will do it in the memory of Ann.

She enjoyed attending the BWC meetings and especially enjoyed Steven’s humor, Nick’s writing, Robert’s Seychelles saga and Norton’s crisp stories.

This year she did not to go to the Writers’ retreat since she would be leaving for the States a couple of days later. But she was very sorry about that and planned to attend it next year.

I owe her something personal. She liked my first novel and was unhappy when I dropped it. She regularly reminded me that I should finish it but I kept on postponing doing so. Now I feel that out of respect for her I should resume working at it. If she liked it so much, probably there is something in it.

I will miss her as a friend and as a sunny and kind-hearted, generous and compassionate person. With her departure I feel a big wound in my psychological cloak.”
Larisa Doctorow

“I will remember Ann as a very warm, generous and self-effacing lady who was extremely helpful and encouraging to me when I first joined the group. She was great fun to talk to, was a great raconteuse and had a keen appreciation of English literature. I found her very open minded and had an amazingly broad range of interests from travel to opera. As a diplomat’s wife she saw a side of life many of us do not come into contact with very often and it was beautiful and quite humbling to see how deeply affected she had clearly often been by her experiences of other cultures and people. The latest project was writing up her memoires as a new bride in India and a trip she and her husband had taken with her mother-in-law. The descriptions of people and places were so wonderfully warm and vivid and were just an example of the well of memories she conserved intact until the very end. Ann will be greatly missed by everyone who was lucky enough to know her.”
Nick Hogg

Sarah Strange wrote a poem about Ann, which you can read here.

“Three occasions stick in my memory when I think of Ann.

She was at the first ever meeting of the Brussels Writers Group I attended one Thursday night at the Belladonne Brasserie in Saint Gilles in 2012. I happened to have taken a seat near hers at the end of the long table. She looked chic in a beige dog-tooth patterned jacket with a beautiful gold brooch on a lapel. As contributors read their work, I noted how carefully and honestly she commented on each piece. I loved her courteous way with words and her warm American accent.

In a break in the readings she asked me about my work. I had to admit the commitment to writing a novel was proving to be a struggle, that I wasn’t making much headway and hoped the BWC might be able to help. “Oh yes. You’ll be surprised what you can do with that novel here.” And she mentioned the memoir she was writing. On several further occasions she read aloud sections from The Runaway Housewife and it seemed a very promising work. She was determined to get it right. Ann was always positive about my contributions and helped to make me believe in my own writing project.

In May 2013 Ann attended the BWC Writers’ Retreat and she and I happened to be in the same group for David Ellard’s workshop. Ann impressed me with the speed of her writing. It was humorous and witty and very well crafted in the blink of an eye. She was great company for the whole weekend.

This year I was sorry she could not attend the Retreat as she had planned. I last saw her at the AGM in July where she generously offered to host the Sunday group at her flat. We left the meeting early, the room in the Falstaff was hot and stuffy and the Agenda had been dealt with, we paid for our drinks at the till and stepped out into the hot summer night. Ann looked so elegant in a summer hat, beige blouse, black trousers and in sharp contrast to the dress-down holidaymakers thronging the street outside. We said our goodbyes and I hoped to see her again soon, perhaps at the Thursday group.

Then came the sad news last week and I realised that although my contact with Ann has been very fleeting, I will remember her most for her love of writing, honesty and positive spirit.”
Ann Kronbergs

“When I met Ann, she was completing a draft of her novel, Runaway Housewife. The adventures of her endearing, unassuming protagonist were praised by members, as they always would during the three years when I heard her read from it, first in third person, then in first person in a later draft. That was no mean feat, but the first-person version seemed as effortless and engaging, if not more, than the previous one.

Ann herself was no less charming. I remember admiring her allure as she walked in the BWC meetings with slow steps but a straight back, wearing tailored suits and makeup. Her elegance did not stop there. She was well-mannered and kind to everyone, encouraging to other writers, gracefully cool in her response to the men who put on their best behavior in the visible hope of impressing her.

Although we knew her health was fragile – how could it be otherwise, at her age? – she remained cheerful and a joy to be with. She gave the impression of being contented with the life she had, with the habits she had made for herself in her last years.

It is true that Runaway Housewife deserved to hit the shelves. She spoke of wanting to see it in the supermarkets, both utterly sincere and poking fun at herself. A completed version might be published. But I like to think that reading it aloud for all this time, rewriting it in first-person once she was done with a polished draft in third-person, showed that the recognition from her peers at the Brussels Writers’ Circle, as well as spending time with her characters, already made her happy.

I remember her smile. Her transparent blue eyes. Her makeup and jewelry. How considerate she was, how she gave you her full attention. Her humour. How she sometimes spoke of her travels when she was married to an ambassador, but never flaunted her social status, which is the mark of a true lady.

I will miss her.”
Sabine Sur

“My heart is full and broken at the same time as I think about Ann’s passing. It’s hard to imagine the Brussels Writers’ Circle without her. Her writing was always so enjoyable to read, and like her, was witty with a hint of mischief. She told fascinating stories of a life well lived and always had time to give words of wisdom and encouragement to me. I valued her feedback so much, but I valued her as a person so much more. I have met few people as warm, interesting, and full of life as her. When I left Brussels for DC, she wished me a “prompt return to Brussels” – she was one of the people who made leaving that bit harder and the prospect of a return sweeter. It’s hard to imagine and difficult to accept that she won’t be there when I do come back. Rest in peace, dear Ann. I was so privileged to know you.”
Claire Handscombe

Ann was a great writer, both of non-fiction and fiction, and I will hugely miss her readings of her travels in India and of The Runaway Housewife. What’s more, Ann consistently provided excellent feedback, commenting on my science fiction with admirable patience. Her words of encouragement have helped immeasurably in improving our writing. Her hosting of the Sunday group this summer in Uccle has been just one example of the incredible support she showed to the rest of us writers. She will be in our hearts forever. RIP Ann Somerhausen.”
Jack Gilbey

“It has been such a pleasure and a privilege to have known Ann for the past ten years. Her presence at our meetings was always reassuring, especially when I read. I was sure that I would benefit from her thoughtful comments, her considerable editing skills and her constant encouragement. After reading the last chapter of my novel eight days before her death, she handed me a page of useful comments ending with, “To be honest, I would love this scene to end with them going to bed together for a great, splendid love-making.” Needless to say, her advice will be heeded.

Ann’s friendship, kindness and support will be sadly missed.
Robert Grandcourt

Ann at the BWC retreat

Ann at the retreat

Ann

Ann and Kathleen looking festive

“Everyone is an accomplice”: Julien Oeuillet on ‘Panzi’

Congratulations to BWC member Julien Oeuillet, whose non-fiction book, Panzi, has just been published. Author of three previous books in French language – two novels, Revolution Motel and Max, and one non-fiction, Ils sont fous ces belges – this latest book covers a horrific topic little discussed in the West, and two men working tirelessly to repair the victims. The book is in French, but here Julien answers a few of our questions about it in English.

Could you tell us what Panzi is about? Panzi

The book is about the ongoing war in the Eastern provinces of the Democratic Republic of the Congo, where war rapes are endemic and used as a way to traumatise the population. This region is infested with militia of several thousand men, each led by a handful of warlords. Although they all claim to defend the interests of one ethnicity or another, or pretend to fight for some ideology, they can all be characterised as armed bands terrorising the rural population in order to enslave it and exploit clandestine mines.

The book is a collection of interviews I conducted with Dr Denis Mukwege from Congo and his Belgian associate Dr Guy-Bernard Cadière. These two men have been doing awe-inspiring work in the region, mainly in Panzi Hospital near the town of Bukavu. They repair rape victims. Not only through surgery but via a holistic approach, with psychological support and help to reintegrate victims into society as independent people.

Rape is used by armed groups as a weapon against the population. It goes beyond the violent compulsions of a sexually deviant person; the perpertrators may not even take pleasure in it: what they really want is to destroy the bodies of women. This is why every rape ends with a horrendous mutilation of the lower abdomen.

The rural population of Congo live a traditional, humble way of life. There is nothing you can steal from them because they don’t own anything; there is nothing you can do to pressure them. The only important thing for people there is fertility and the joy of having children and a family. In this way, when rapists threaten to destroy the belly of a woman, they keep the entire population under their control. Men are also tortured gruesomely and executed when they defend their women. Rape was inexistent in Congolese culture before the arrival of these militia, and the population has no idea about the proper response that should be given to victims. Instead, they tend to reject the raped woman as an abomination, and shun the men who were not able to defend her. This is how a peaceful village becomes a pack of traumatised people who end up working as slaves in mines for the profit of their agressors. By destroying women, they destroy the whole social structure.

This is also why Dr Mukwege is active in prevention and maintains a network of mobile crews: they visit villages to teach people a proper response: how to support victims, how to alert them; in short, how to maintain solidarity in front of their aggressors.

Everyone is an accomplice to some extent. We never ask where ore comes from. The tracability of minerals is nowhere near as straightforward as we think it is. Western governments have no interest in changing the situation, neighbouring African countries keep Congo down for their own profit, and Congolese elites do not always act in favour of their population. This situation has been going on for sixteen years and is poorly reported; there is no real exposure to a global audience. An estimated six million people have died there in this period, and Dr Mukwege has performed surgery on an estimated thirty thousand rape victims.

The content of your book was obviously very challenging, emotionally charged and potentially traumatising. What was it like for you to write such a book?

The hardest thing was to believe in the usefulness of the book. When I was in Panzi Hospital I started doubting the pertinence of writing about this topic instead of learning medicine, or working to help them, or, I don’t know, taking a gun and shooting the warlords until there are none left. There was a moment when I realised that the literature on this topic is actually quite abundant but remains too ‘niche’ to have a real impact. As long as the international community will tolerate it, nothing will change.

Once I was back from Africa it took me an astonishingly long time to start working on transcribing the interviews and writing the transitional texts. It was not necessarily hard work to do in terms of editorial tasks. In the long run it was not even a traumatising thing to reminisce about what I saw, because it has simply become part of my life now: I just live in a world where such things exist. Strange as it seems, I even want to go back there again someday. I definitely think the hardest thing was to constantly doubt the point of adding a book to the pile of testimonies about these crimes. No matter how many books there are, seemingly none of them have changed the situation on the ground.

The book is published under the names of the two doctors: it is their words in it, and their work. They have the entire merit of what Panzi Hospital is doing for victims in Congo. I simply did the best I could to help them introduce their stories.

One positive thing is that Dr Mukwege has achieved a very important worldwide fame. But then again, I am afraid that his fame is too confined to people who already pay interest in such affairs. As I told him in Panzi hospital: “Sadly, I think the only time people will sit up and pay attention is when your story is turned into a Hollywood movie.” He laughed when I said this and we jokingly speculated about which American actors could perform his role and Dr Cadière’s. I stick to this idea, though: it is somewhat despicable and shows how superficial our society has become, but nothing will change until Dr Mukwege is portrayed on the big screen by someone like Forrest Whitaker or Jamie Foxx for a white Western audience to enjoy…

How did you feel visiting Panzi Hospital and The Democratic Republic of the Congo? 

The hospital is a much more joyful place than one would think. Every morning, Dr Mukwege starts the day with a sort of mass for the patients and personnel alike. It happens in a courtyard in the hospital, with the scent of beautiful tropical plants under the sun. There are women wearing splendid dresses who play drums and sing, men are dancing; it is fascinating. The people of Congo are very optimistic. Bukavu is full of signs bearing motivational mottos. In the quarter of Panzi Hospital reserved for rape victims, there are sometimes musicians who come to perform for them and invite them to sing and dance with them. Children born from rape or whose mother has been mutilated are dancing all the time. People dance and sing so much, and they are in the middle of the most horrible drama of our times. There is nothing that can be worse than a place where armed bands rape and mutilate women and torture their men to death to force them into mines. What can be any worse than that? And still, they dance and sing. Dr Cadière said something interesting: “In Congo they have fun with nothing and in the West we are bored with everything.”

It was my first experience of Africa and there are many things I could say about it that anyone who has been there could say as well; it is difficult to find something original to say. Something in particular struck me, though: in Bukavu, I never saw anyone wearing clothing that was neglected. Men dress sharply and formally, their shirts tucked into their trousers, their shoes clean. Women wear dresses with vivid colours, tailor-made to their size. People in this region may not even have running water but they are always elegant. Dr Mukwege is like that too: there was not a moment throughout his extremely demanding everyday routine when I saw any sign of neglect in his appearance. He was clean, perfectly groomed, and dignified from sunrise to sunset; this in the midst of curing horrific wounds in a hospital in the heart of Africa. This may seem like a detail but for some reason I think it says a lot about the people there: there is no such thing as ‘Gansta style’ in Congo; you don’t get street cred by dressing in rags. You show respect for yourself and for the people you meet by always keeping clean. You may only own one pair of trousers but you take good care of them. This seems to me to be in sharp contrast with what I see in the streets in the West, where we can spend hundreds to look neglected, pretending that we have it hard and we are badass. People in Congo can’t afford to look neglected. They live each day in a situation that none of us could handle for more than 48 hours; they don’t need to look badass.

What was it like meeting Dr Mukwege?

Dr Mukwege is the single most impressive person I have ever met. He was even granted a physique that goes with his personality: he is very tall and square shouldered. He is exceptionally nice and kind, even peaceful in a way. I guess you have to develop such traits if you want to survive such a situation. There have been assassination attempts on him, so he lives in a secured compound inside the hospital itself. You cannot fathom the idea of people trying to kill him. Everyone in Panzi Hospital loves him, practitioners and patients alike. He is very warm with all of them.

He is extremely humble. There are people who believe he should enter politics and change Congo from inside the system. He seems reluctant to do this, not out of fear for himself, but out of mistrust of the world he would enter.

Dr Mukwege is animated by an invincible faith in what he is doing. From what I saw, I think I can say without mistake that this man will never give up. He will never give up on his duty, and never give up believing in humanity, even when every day he walks into the worst thing humanity has to offer. His actions speak for him: he has repaired the bodies of more than thirty thousand women and all he got for it was the sound of bullets whistling past his head. This speaks more to him than the dozen prizes he has received. Every day, he is a humble man with dignity who shakes hands or hugs patients and practitioners in the place where he accomplishes the work that he thinks is right. He loves all these people, he loves all the women he has repaired. His love for people has done more than any slogan or treatise; he simply loves and acts.

One last thing: the book also praises his incredible skills as a surgeon. The surgery he performs is far from easy. The wounds of the mutilated rape victims have no comparison anywhere else in the world or in history, so he had to create a medical answer from a blank page. He had to find surgical solutions that were adapted to the very specific cases he encountered. Professionals have praised not only the humanitarian in him but also the extremely skilled surgeon.

What was it like working with Dr Cadière?

Dr Cadière is a Belgian surgeon with a lifelong passion for Africa. He and Dr Mukwege became friends and professional partners a few years ago. Dr Cadière flies from Brussels, where he works, to Panzi Hospital several times a year to help Dr Mukwege with the most challenging surgeries. Dr Cadière is a pioneer of a modern surgical technique called laparoscopy. Dr Mukwege said that the introduction of laparoscopic surgery to Panzi Hospital made a huge difference for rape victims, easing their treatment greatly.

Dr Cadière is an adventurer. His life is an adventure. He has lived it to the full. This man has been everywhere in the world, performing surgery in several war theatres. At some point, he was even a successful musician, touring as a saxophonist. He survived leukemia. He fought to develop laparoscopy at a time when the medical authorities were reluctant to change. No surprises he befriended a man like Dr Mukwege.

Dr Cadière is an extremely enthusiastic person. Like Dr Mukwege, he has witnessed a lot of suffering and monstrosity, yet he still smiles most of the time and never gives up on anything. His trips to Panzi do not bring him any money or personal gratification: he does it because he knows he can help people.

In Panzi hospital, I saw Dr Cadière playing with the children of victims, talking with them, and mostly, working from eight to eight. When he does not perform surgery himself, he trains Congolese surgeons in laparoscopic techniques. He consciously rejects any neo-colonial behaviours: he talked about not being “The white man who comes to dictate to African men.”

Instead, he works with Congolese physicians on an equal footing: when in Panzi, he considers Dr Mukwege to be his boss, because it is his hospital.

Dr Cadière also worked on editing the book with me back in Brussels, and his contribution to the story is huge. He says that he cannot write but he actually can tell a story. His life has been such an exciting story, it would have been a pity not to share it. On many occasions, he was too humble to share personal details, but I insisted that he give me all he could. The book recounts a lot about Dr Cadière’s life before he discovered Panzi, because it shows what kind of character he is: a free man without personal ambitions, at the service of others. This is his definition of adventure. I thought such stories in the book would make it even more inspirational.

You had an experience in the hospital that called into question your worth as a human being, and your career as a journalist and writer. Could you tell us about that?

Nothing I may have felt in Panzi Hospital is comparable to what patients and victims there are going through. It is true, however, that Panzi Hospital gave me considerable exposure to suffering I had never witnessed before and which has no equivalent anywhere in the Western world. I wondered at some point if I was a weak person to be so affected by all this, but now I think the only two kinds of people who can witness what I saw in surgery rooms at Panzi without being shaken are doctors and psychopaths. I already knew I was not a doctor, and now I am absolutely certain I am not a psychopath.

The most shaking thing that happened to me is not actually something I saw. In Panzi I was allowed to wander anywhere, but if I wanted to enter a surgery room I was required to wear one of those green outfits worn by surgeons. At some point I went into the courtyard but forgot to change back into my normal clothes. Some patients then mistook me for a doctor and asked me to cure them. I had to tell them I was actually not a surgeon, but some didn’t believe it and couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t help them. The look in their eyes will stay in my memory forever. This was a moment when I really questioned the entire point of writing books at all, in comparison to the work of people like Dr Mukwege and Dr Cadière.

After all you have seen and experienced, what message would you like to impart to the world about the situation in DRC?

There is nothing worse than what is happening there. There cannot be anything worse than this. More than fifteen years of gruesome rape and torture and murder to pillage ores which are sold all around the world without anyone caring. This is what it is, in a single sentence.

Dr Cadière says that what happens in Congo is important because this is what awaits all of us, and I agree with him: if we tolerate it in Congo, then it can and will happen somewhere else. Wherever you live, you are not safe from a similar fate. In a few generations, who knows, perhaps your children will be treated the same way because we found something valuable in your country.

Everything in our world tends towards cynicism, consumerism, and egotism. The situation in Congo is the result of all this.

Do you have any advice to offer those thinking about writing about similarly disturbing topics? What worked for you, what helped you through it? Is there anything you would do differently?

You will not be saving the world with your book. It is a drop in the ocean. Do not write it to save the world because you will fail spectacularly. Our book is out now and Dr Mukwege is still working every day repairing the bodies of women: it didn’t save Congo.

Write the book only because you love the people involved and you want to honour them. This is the best you can do for them. It is likely that, sadly, the only people who will read your book are people who were already somewhat aware of the situation. But at least you gave them more information and more insights about a situation they would like to help but feel terribly powerless in front of. Your book remains available in the future, so write it only because you think you can leave a testimony of something that hasn’t been said before.

Never forget that non-fiction writing is about providing information. If you cannot inform, then you are not writing a book. The personal feelings I have talked about in this interview are nowhere in the book, if only because the book is about the two surgeons and not about me at all. In the book, I gave elements of ambiance and descriptions of the place so the reader can feel as close as possible to actually visiting Panzi, but these are not personal feelings. If you ask me in an interview how I feel about it, then I can answer, but in a book no one cares. You are here to inform. You can write about a topic which has already been written about, as long as you provide fresh information about it. I’m not talking about analyses, because we don’t need more analyses, we need information. Your analyses are only one nerve cell away from your feelings.

Do not despise your readership. People are not stupid. People crave being elevated. Even those who seem the most stupid and ignorant to you will still react positively if you make the effort to inform them. If they reject your information, then it is not because they are too stupid to hear what you have to say, it is because you are not doing your job right.

***

Julien has kindly agreed to give a short Q&A session about his experiences writing Panzi at the Tuesday night BWC meeting next week (July 15), from 7pm. Meeting place is our usual La Maison des Crêpes and all members are welcome!

2014 Writers’ Retreat Review

In May a bunch of BWC members once again toddled off to Tremelo (Flanders) for the annual BWC Writers’ Retreat. Organiser Ann Kronbergs was kind enough to provide a few words about the goings on of the weekend.

Siddartha 1“From May 16-18, nineteen members gathered for the fifth annual BWC Writers’ Retreat held in Siddartha, a residential centre near Tremelo. The weather was gloriously hot and sunny so people were able to enjoy meals, as well as some of the workshops, outdoors in the garden which surrounds the main house.

Friday was for meeting and greeting, but on Saturday morning David Ellard led a workshop on Launching the Main Character. In many books, films, etc. the opening scenes serve the purpose of launching the main character. This workshop looked at how this is done using some classic movies as writing fodder (eg. Gone with the Wind, Casablanca and others) and succeeded in getting participants to recreate their own opening scenes. Groups then presented outcomes in the evening.

Sabine Sur followed David’s workshop in the afternoon with a focus on ways of using body language and non-verbal communication to portray characters.

On Sunday morning Ann Kronbergs led a workshop on how to open a novel. Looking at some of the stylistic effects used by writers to start their novels or short stories, she led a few exercises in ways of applying some of these techniques to existing openings of famous novels AND/OR to the opening paragraphs of our own “work in progress”. Attendees had brought along work of their own to revisit at this stage in the weekend.

In a final session there was a discussion of the strengths and weaknesses of the Retreat. People felt that next year it would be better to enlarge the focus on members’ work in progress. It was suggested that there might be a choice of workshops on offer so that attendees could opt to allocate their time to match their writing interests more. Workshop leaders felt there should be a clearer emphasis on the expectations of group members. They thought it would help to try to recruit more workshop leaders by advertising through the blog and the weekly sessions.

Hamed Mobasser has agreed to organise the BWC Retreat 2015 (8-10 May) since Ann Kronbergs is returning to the UK.”

The BWC would like to thank Ann very much for organising this year’s retreat!

Siddartha 2

Perfect spot for a bit of wordsmithery

Siddartha 3

A rather fitting statue

Group 1

Members of the BWC getting cosy

Group 2

Discussions in the sun

Joss and Mauricia

BWC members Mauricia and Joss hard at work

Sabine, David, Ann

Workshop leaders Sabine, David and Ann

Details of the 2015 BWC Retreat will be released probably around January 2015. Watch this space!

Meet the Circle: Todd Arkenberg

The members of the Brussels Writers’ Circle are a varied bunch. Prose writers, poets, playwrights, memoirists, screenwriters and bringers of silly bits and pieces, we sweep in from all different occupations and locations every week to share our scrawlings with one another.

In ‘Meet the Circle’, we introduce you to some of our members, hopefully providing an insight into who we are, what we do, and what we think about Greco-Roman wrestling. Well, maybe not that last bit.

This week we will hear from Chicagoan Todd Arkenberg, who’s a relative newbie to the group, and therefore in a good position to give you a taste of what it’s like for fresh members.

Todd Arkenberg

BWC member Todd Arkenberg

When did you join the group?

I joined BWC in January 2014, the very month my spouse Jim and I relocated to Brussels.

What were your first impressions of the group?

I formed my first impression of BWC back in Chicago. Deeply involved with Chicago’s two oldest writers workshops, I searched the Internet for a group in Brussels to ease the transition into our new home. The website was robust – great information on the group and welcoming to newcomers. Three weekly sessions impressed me as a sign of serious writers committed to their craft. A prompt reply to my inquiry was a bonus.

What are you currently working on?

I am currently working on several projects in various draft stages. I self published my first novel, Final Descent shortly before leaving Chicago. Promotion efforts are complicated by our relocation. A second novel, JELL-O With Jackie O. is in its fourth draft with an aim of publishing in fall, 2014. I expect to publish a third novel, None Shall Sleep, in 2015, having just completed an initial draft. A fourth project, a memoir, is in very early stages of development.

Who are your biggest literary influences? How have they influenced you?

I was an English Literature major in college, focusing on the nineteenth century. While Hardy, Dickens and Austen fed my desire to write, modern readers have different tastes. Current literary mentors include John Irving, Alice Munro and Ian McEwan. They fill stories with rich characters, people with whom contemporary readers can identify. Alice Munro teaches me an economy of storytelling. Her short stories offer brilliant lessons in crafting works complete with mood and feelings using few words. As a writer of long fiction, I’m always looking for ways to economize on words without compromising impact. That’s something with which, I think, all writers struggle. Now and then, I still grab a Classic but consider it a decadent treat like a waffle smothered in whipped cream and chocolate sauce.

Do you have a memorable moment from the BWC that you could share?

I’m racking my brain to find my most memorable moment. Perhaps I haven’t been involved with the group long enough to distinguish memorable from routine. I enjoy the diversity of members and the amazing quality of the writing. I’m impressed with those for whom English is a second or even third language. I struggle every day to write in my native tongue, grasping for the right word. I can’t imagine writing in another language. Perhaps the surprising richness of the non-English native speakers is most noteworthy.

What do you get out of the group?

BWC offers a comfortable, supportive forum in which to hone writing skills. The workshop format, whether I read or critique, makes me a better writer. From a wide variety of styles and genres, I learn what works. I applied group feedback to strengthen a piece, offered for critique. By definition, there are no ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ reader perceptions. Discussions help decipher how writing affects readers’ minds, a key to all good writing. BWC also offers camaraderie. I’ve formed friendships with many members that helped me ease into my new life in Brussels.

 

La Muse Writers’ Retreat in May

7.-View-down-the-Valley-La-MuseFollowing on from many a successful writing workshop here in Brussels, BWC affiliate small hushed waves have decided to skip across the border and hold a summer writers’ retreat in France.

What? A week long writers’ retreat, complete with workshops, free writing time and one-to-one tuition
Where? La Muse, a rather picturesque mountain retreat in southern France
When? May 2 – 9, 2014
How much? Prices for one week at La Muse range from €350 – €695. Tuition fee for the week is €200. Flights must be booked separately.
How do I book? To find out more and reserve your spot, simply pop along to the small hushed waves retreat page.

Places on the retreat are limited, so if you’re stirred by the sound of sharpening those sentences surrounded by spectacular scenery, get booking soon!

Writing Workshop: Creating a Story World

1911733_10152086522562886_145343797_nBWC affiliate small hushed waves have cracked their knuckles and come up with another workshop for your writerly consideration. Here’s small hushed waves manager (and BWC member) Clare Taylor with some more information:

“This workshop will be of particular interest to those writing sci-fi and children’s stories, but the lessons learned are of equal value to all kinds of writing.

Every story, from realistic slice-of-life short stories to epic fantasy and sci-fi novels, operate with their own characters, geography, people, and rules.

In this workshop we’ll look at ways to develop the world of your story. We’ll find the hidden assumptions underlying your fiction and look at ways of making them work for your story.”

When? Sunday, March 23, 2014
Where? Sterling Books, Brussels
Time? 14:00 – 16:30
Cost? €20
How do I sign up? Simply shoot an email to smallhushedwaves at gmail.com
What do I bring? Pen, paper, perspicacity (but mainly the first two)

We look forward to seeing you there!