fast fashion secondhand africa: Kisitu Aloysius Musanyusa | KDindie©Paolo Gallo |26.11.2021

Das Wasser der Spree ist nicht süß - [The water of the Spree is neither sweet nor fresh] 

Days 10, 11 & 12 of the 'congress on the clothes heap'
Excerpt from the logbook of barbara caveng

 'I hope the tour was worthwhile for you ' - so it is friendly inquired in the email of 1.12.2021. Our friends are long since back in Uganda. In the morning of the 28th of November at 6:50 the plane had taken off punctually from Berlin in the direction Brussels and later in the morning left the continent behind, direction for Entebbe.

CUT
27.11.2021

I saw a tear run down Ruth's cheek. If pain burns, it must be hot. The warmth on that cold morning came from the pain. It was the 11th day of our sojourn, the last. We had set out to visit the African Quarter - where colonial history had inscribed itself in the street names. Mnyaka Sururu Mboro, who was to guide us, had suggested the Ugandan Street/African Street- junction, as a meeting point.

Viewpoints and insights at the corner of Uganda and African Street: Lotti Seebeck, Ruth Faith Naluke, Mnyaka Sururu Mboro, barbara caveng, Kisitu Aloysius Musanyusa, Jim Joel Nyakaana ©Jim Joel Nyakaana, Céline Iffli-Naumann.

CUT
25.11.2021

"If you need a lot of space to board, the pier at the Caprivi Bridge is best",Astrid had advised on the phone. 'Where?'- 'Caprivi Bridge,' the shipping manager repeated, 'in Charlottenburg.' -'Caprivi - with K or with C?'-'With C.'

CUT
27.11.

source:www.welt.de/geschichte/article111963581/Deutschlands-Exportgut-nach-Afrika-war-Schnaps.html

I recognized a map in the hands of Mboro, more precisely - a copy of a map from a book. Later on the web I find a similar one: The map is drawn with pen and ink and colorized. Togo, German Southwest Africa, German East Africa and Cameroon are watercolored reddish-brown - the shade of dried blood. The borders are depicted as red hemlines. The contours of German Southwest Africa resemble a skull with a strange slender, beak-like outgrowth. The tentacle is bulging into northeastern Namibia.

CUT
26.11.

From U-Bismarckstraße we had moved to Caprivibrücke in a procession of rag pickers. Our hybrid vehicles were loaded with clothes from our collection of 'Saved Items' from the last ten months: We had picked up a ton of clothing and textiles from the asphalt of the city.

The Caprivi Bridge, named after Leo von Caprivi, Imperial chancellor after Bismarck between 1890 and 1894 

Since 1927, the Zambezi has meandered parallel to the Uganda Road through the African Quarter. In 1890, German interests focused on Africa's fourth largest river - after all, it seemed that a direct connection between German Southwest Africa and German East Africa could be established via the water. Germany ceded Zanzibar to England and in return "received" Heligoland and the aforementioned strip of land.

The word 'Zipfel' unavoidably makes me think of sausage.

Kisitu wore a classic wool coat, of a straight cut with narrow lapels over his grayish trousers with flaed legs down to the ankle, vest and shirt of an Indian label. We had all coveted the piece, but the garment did not fit anyone or the coat didn’t suit the wearer - until Kisitu tried it on. Its label: United Colours of Benetton - fished out of the gutter on some corner of the city - saved by Streetware. .

We sailed our rag boat past the containers on the harbour site of Westhafen, boxes that symbolize the global and often enough post-colonial trade in goods - like the export of our last season's fashion preferences disposed of in the clothing containers towards Africa.

The proud clinker facade of the Behala building blocks the view to LaGeSo (Landesamt für Flüchtlinge und Soziales). The limbo of the buildings is haunted by people without papers. Perhaps they came by ship from the Libyan coast across the Mediterranean, wearing the second-hand clothes that once hung in our closets.

We pass the Humboldt Forum - a museum site with global aspirations, in which colonial continuities in thought and action are shamefully manifested. One of the alliance partners of the campaign No-Humboldt 21 is the association Berlin Postkolonial, whose founding member is Mnyaka Sururu Mboro.

CUT
29.11.

Reading up: The Caprivi Strip on Namibian land was renamed the 'Zambezi Region' in August 2013. Since then, the port city of Lüderitz is called „!Nami≠Nüs“ -'Hug' 

 Dressed as ragamuffins à la mode in rags of fast fashion, we cruised merrily along the Spree and chanted our slogan with verve to passers-by on the banks. Eye patches instead of rose-colored glasses.

On the walk of remembrance in the African Quarter of Berlin, we as white and black humans had to endure, see, read and hear about what the historical basis is on which we meet as fellow colleagues and friends.

Why, I wonder, did the Caprivi Bridge not get a new name at the same time as the area was renamed Namibia? For example in 'Privi_Lege Bridge'.
This would not be an embrace but perhaps a rapprochement and the riverside beer garden would then perhaps be called 'Pleasure Garden of Privileges' and not CapRivi.

'The Congress on the Clothes Dump' described a series of events between September and November 2021 dedicated to an inclusive and participatory philosophizing about the meaning of clothes, their production, distribution and consumption. Invited guests and random attendees digged into textonic layers, searched for solutions, questioned the ethics of the second skin. Clothing protects and adorns. It represents basic aesthetic and existential needs, but its mode of production destroys the environment on a large scale and endangers the physical and psychological well-being of the people who cope with the manufacturing processes in socially intolerable conditions. How could sustainable production and economy look like - this is what we explored with people from the global - as well as Berlin - North and South in a multi-perspective way.

Mnyaka Sururu Mboro, born and raised in Tanzania, came to study in Germany in 1978 and then settled in Berlin. He is a board member and co-founder of Berlin Postkolonial e.V., and for decades has been active in advocating for a critical confrontation of German colonialism. One of his main concerns is the restitution of human remains, which were stolen during the German colonial era and which to the present day are found in the collections of the “Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz” (SPK), the “Berliner Gesellschaft für Anthropologie, Ethnologie und Urgeschichte” (BGAEU), as well as several other institutions all over Germany.
http://justlisten.berlin-postkolonial.de/en/mnyaka-sururu-mboro

Quelle Umbenennung der Stadt Lüderitz: www.dw.com/de/deutsche-ortsnamen-verschwinden/a-17009617#:~:text=Nami%E2%89%A0N%C3%BCs%22.,bis%201915%20eine%20deutsche%20Kolonie

Laia, Pauli und Nazanin Shamloo©Anja_Grabert | 12.9.2021

IT DOES NOT MATTER IF A DRESS IS USED OR IF IT IS A NEW DRESS FROM SOME TRENDY BRAND, WHAT MATTERS IS THE SOUL THAT WEARS IT.

Lorenzo

Walk with us!

Wir machten die Flugbahn zum Catwalk und demonstrierten Mode vom Asphalt an hybriden Wäscheständern auf der Aufmarschfläche R11 des Tempelhofer Feldes!

Es demonstrierten für Fashion-Standards einer gerechteren Zukunft und als Beitrag zur Debatte um Körperbild und Ästhetik:

Alice Fassina | Aliyah Iffli | Annelie | Boris Steinberg | Céline Iffli-Naumann | Deborah Klassen | Freeda | Flora Carmim | Geneviève | Kdindie | Laia  |LaMoel | Laura-Marie Gruch  | Manuela Coelho | Marlene Sommer | NavaNaimaPan | Nazanin Shamloo  | Nomadin der Lüfte |Pauli | Philairone | Purvi Dhrangaderiya | Sara Tivane | Sarah Nevada Grether | Sophie Stolle | Zohara |

Training: Leo Naomi Baur | José Caba | barbara caveng
Styling : STREETWARE saved item featuring Mo Lateef

Make Up & Haare:   Narong Boonme | Nazanin Emami | Olga Ionica Zavisic  | Reena Kumari | Sandrine Louise  |

Fotos Anja Grabert & Paolo Gallo

Im Kontext der Berlin Fashion Week forderte Berlins politischstes Mode-Label die Fast Fashion heraus, transformierte weggeworfene Textilien in prêt-à-porter und inszenierte soziale Plastik. Um mit Saved Items zur Bildung nachhaltiger Standards, fairer Produktionsketten und dekolonialisierter Lebensstilmuster beizutragen, veranstaltete STREETWARE den demonstrativen Catwalk der sozial-ökonomischen Utopie. Die präsentierten Fashion-Highlights stammten unmittelbar vom Asphalt der Straßen Berlins und dienten als provokanter Ausgangspunkt, um über Nachhaltigkeit, Produktionsweisen und soziale Praktik ins Gespräch zu kommen.

ICH LEGE AB

Neben Nachhaltigkeit, Produktionsweisen und sozialer Praktik wurde das Diktat der  Schönheitsideale frei interpretiert und   Ästhetiken zur Debatte gestellt. Die Kollektion von STRRETWARE wurde auf dem Tempelhofer Feld präsentiert von Models, die durch ihre einzigartige Ausstrahlung  Normbegriffe sprengten und demonstrierten, was Schönheit wirklich bedeutet

Marlene Sommer hat sich den BMI vorgenommen:

Overweight – over WHAT weight?

Overnight, half the American population became “overweight”, just bc someone changed the BMI borders … wtf?

 In today’s society, the so-called “body-mass-index” is like a status symbol, sth that defines your class, the amount of appreciation you receive. We don’t compare the price of our house or car, the job of our partner… we compare ourselves. 

When everything else feels out of control, there’s sth we can do – that’s what we think. But we can’t fight our biology. Even if we all ate and moved the same, we’d still all look different. The BMI was introduced in the 1830s by a mathematician, not a biologist so there ain’t much science behind it.

There’s a beauty standard, so many ppl try to archive by going against their biological needs. Is that really what we want: The same boring looks, so that no one can differentiate us? What once made us humane and separated us from robots is what we all strive for. Others claim, they just wanted to be “normal”; fit in. Right… who defines that? That’s society. And who is society? Us – you and me. Why are we creating a norm, only certain ppl can “archive”? You can’t fight your biology.

Why not establish our true authentic self as the new normal? Flaws and stretch marks, rolls, and muscles. Let’s celebrate what our bodies DO for us instead of hating “all your curves and edges, all [our] perfect imperfections” as John Legend says in his song “All of me”.

Why don’t we appreciate the fact that we all look different? Ain’t it amazing that we’re one species but still all so unique? 

Be yourself, everyone else already exists.

The BMI was once supposed to be a guideline, sth to express ppl’s health easily. We’re smarter today: Health ain’t only about your weight, it’s physical sanity, mental health and so much more. Health ain’t a visual diagnosis. A normal weight is the one your body feels most comfortable at; your setpoint is individual, not a matter of BMI numbers!

Our body is our home; our motor. We cannot cut the energy and expect electricity to still run. You can’t live a full life on an empty stomach. We need to start seeing our body as an instrument, not an ornament… it enables us to walk, laugh, write, talk, visit places. Don’t miss out on 95% of life only to weight 5% less

Do you wanna walk with us too?

ein poetische Fragestellung und eine Hommage an die abgestreiften Textilien von NavaNaimaPan

Ich komme Nachhause. Öffne die Tür zu einem Zimmer, das seines war, heute meines ist.  In der Mitte steht ein Bett, ungemacht, so als hätte er letzte Nacht noch darin geträumt. Behutsam setzte ich mich auf die Bettkante. Es gehört mir noch nicht, Höflichkeit ist angebracht. Ich entdecke eine alte Holztruhe, öffne sie ohne Erwartung etwas darin zu finden, vielmehr mit dem Gedanken, ob und was ich hineinlegen könnte. Einrichten.

Der Geruch von ausgetragenen Turnschuhen und modrigen Klamotten steigt aus der Holzkiste, entblösst eine Jeansjacke. Ich ziehe sie hinaus, schüttele sie aus, als ob der Geruch so vom Stoff abfallen könnte, ziehe sie mir über. Sie ist zu gross.

Ich frage mich, wie die selbe Jacke über seine Schultern fällt.

Ich widme mich meinem Rucksack, packe die Kleider aus. Die gestreifte Hose mit Schlag. Heute gehört sie ihr und mir, wir teilen sie uns. Wem wohl davor?

Der Schal, der auf der Brücke im Wind hing. Wer trug ihn gegen die beissende Biese um den Hals geschlungen? Wer friert heute ohne das Tuch?

Der rote, samtige Pulli, den ich vor dem Haus, in dem ich damals wohnte, auf der Mauer fand.

Textile; Gewobenes, Gewirktes. Textile, die sich um Menschen webten, auf Menschen wirkten. Textile, die sich um Menschen weben, auf Menschen wirken.

hManche von Ihnen werden ein Zuhause. Ich denke dabei an den Fliegerhut eines verstorbenen Grossvaters. Ich trage ihn auf dem Kopf und der Hut mich durch den Winter.

Ich mag Hüte. Ein kleines Dach über dem Kopf. Ein Zuhause eben.

In neues Jeans gehüllt, trete ich auf die fremden Strassen hinaus. Menschen gehen sie auf und ab. Kleider und Leute; sie machen sich in Wechselwirkung.

Da, am Strassenrand liegt eine schmale Trainerjacke. Ich denke an eine junge Frau. Eine, die in Bangladesch zwischen dutzend anderen jungen Frauen drei weisse Streifen auf die blaue Stoffjacke aufnäht. An eine junge Frau, die nach dem Workout verschwitzt friert, sich dieselbe Jacke hier im Westen überzieht.

Ich bin als eine der Passant:innen weiter durch die Strassen geschlendert. Mich mit jedem Schritt weitergedacht, einmal ostwärts und wieder zurück.

Ich biege in eine kleinere Strasse ab, hab mich verloren, dabei fällt mein Blick auf drei aneinandergereihter Schuhpaare. Ich sehe darin Kinderfüsse, sie spielen aufgeregt durch den Trubel der Stadt.

Der Herbst bläst und färbt zwischen den Häusern, ich vergrabe mich im Blau der Jeansjacke und bilde mir ein, ihn leise spüren zu können. Ihn, der die Jacke vor mir trug. Fast ist es so, als gingen wir gemeinsam, we walk together. Do you wanna walk with us too?