Tears overwhelm Paul Kronenberg as he recounts painful stories of potential young leaders who come to kanthari (the small letter ‘k’ is meant to reflect the organisation’s flat hierarchy, he says), a leadership training centre that he runs with partner Sabriye Tenberken in Vellayani.
Sabriye is blind. Paul clarifies, “Sabriye cannot see anything. She says ‘visually challenged’ is a term for people who can still see a bit and so need glasses while blind is the perfect description for her condition."
It is that catalyst or as he says, “pinching point”, that pushes people to outlive their challenges and initiate projects to create a social impact. The ninth batch of 24 such ‘kantharis’ from India and other countries took the stage present their ideas on December 12 and 13 at Co-Bank Towers, over three sessions each day. The talks marked the conclusion of their seven-month long residential leadership programme. The speakers’ ‘Dream Speeches’ were fine-tuned by their mentors including Sabriye and a clinical psychologist.
Biju and Sherin
Life led Sherin Noordheen, the first speaker on the inaugural day, to adopt suicide prevention as her passion project. The 35-year-old intends to run a café that serves as a space for therapy to help those who have suicidal tendencies or have attempted to commit suicide.
Sherin shares a quick recap of her life. Suicide has persistently shadowed the former software engineer, right from her childhood to every low she faced as an adult. After quitting her career, she travelled extensively, attending various courses on the side. When she was staring at a fast-depleting bank account it led her to apply for jobs again. She was busy clearing rounds of interviews with a software company at the time that kanthari responded to her application. “I was doing a residential course in yoga then. So interviews were over Skype. During kanthari’s interviews, also comprising five rounds, I just had to be myself. Predictably enough, the software company’s interviews required putting on an act and answering standard questions like ‘Where do you see yourself five years from now?’. “I realised how we are always trying to present a perfect version of ourselves that does not exist, one with no problems, in order to be hired. Who doesn’t have issues?” Choosing between the five-figure salary that the software company offered and training for her dream project at kanthari couldn’t have been easier.
Within a month or two of joining, the participants have a clear idea about their projects. “We are encouraged to spill out all our problems here,” Sherin says. To rid themselves of the tunnel vision that is bound to develop from the constant brainstorming that centres only around their own projects, visits to other institutes follow after which they return with a fresh perspective. The curriculum, divided into five ‘Acts’ or modules, is designed as a no-fail launch pad for kantharis who can be initiators, inventors, entrepreneurs, advocates or artistes, depending on their projects.
Biju Simon
The ‘pinching point’, for Biju Simon, another speaker based in the city like fellow kanthari Sherin, came after he enrolled at college. Having attended a Malayalam-medium school all his life, Biju felt lost in the barrage of lectures in English at college. “I stared blankly at the exam paper,” the 37-year-old says, conversing in fluent English. Confident and articulate with a deep voice to match, Biju recalls hitting an all-time low as a college dropout before joining a seminary. “That changed my life. We were taught grammar as if we were children. There was no pressure to sound perfect when we spoke. Initially, it was a mix of Malayalam and English. I was encouraged to participate in public speaking.”
As part of the seminary’s social outreach programmes Biju opted to teach a group of children in a shantytown. The blank stares that greeted him on his first day were a reminder of his face in college. “I changed tactics immediately,” he says of his Aha! moment, “and used methods like role-play. They responded well. Now they write skits and decide on the roles themselves,” he adds. As an alternative, creative method of learning, Biju’s project is aimed at recognising children’s talents and honing them to earn a livelihood by building a network with potential employers. “Children are supported by shelter homes only till the age of 18. The government deems them fit to lead independent lives after that. But it does not apply to the Indian context.” During his days as a coordinator with Don Bosco Children’s Homes, Biju met a kanthari participant from Kenya who asked him to apply too. Biju is not a part of the seminary any more. “That way I can reach out to people from all background,” he says. He is eager to head back to life beyond kanthari’s campus though he adds that the experience has been invaluable. “I have been taught about all the aspects my project needs to take shape as an organisation, from legal formalities to team building and fund raising.”
Rahel Zageye, one of the kantharis, comes by to hug us before retiring to her room. Subject to unspeakable abuse as a domestic help in Lebanon, the Ethiopian is a human rights activist today who supports migrant domestic workers.
There’s an ease of camaraderie among the speakers as they tease and share laughs. Every adversity thrown their way has only made them stronger, leading to this moment at kanthari, envisioning a future as agents of change.
Of course, if 20 years ago, a blind Sabriye could ride through Tibet on horseback in her quest for ostracised children to train under the Rehabilitation and Training Centre for the Blind she established with Paul, anything is possible!
For more information go to http://www.kanthari.org/talks
