TO RUSSIA WITH LAUGHTER
by Barbara Brewster
... DEPARTURE ...
Flying away from Russia, I was exhausted. The two-week tour was a constant bombardment of the senses. Wherever we were--on buses and planes, in airports and metros, in hotels and art galleries--we were public personas. Our troupe brought lightness and laughter everywhere we went. Some clowns, especially, easily effervesced and connected with the public. They made silliness look elegant and easy. Next to them, I felt clumsy. I'd hoped to break through the shell surrounding my silliness, but had to admit that I simply don't operate the way they do.
Yet there had been a moment of recognition. It happened the day we visited the burn ward.
"This may be a difficult experience for some of you," Patch said before we trooped off the bus. "You'll see things that you may find horrifying. Remember that these kids are just like us. They are just wearing a different kind of mask."
When we entered the ward, I did see horrible sights. The child with almost no face, just reddened eyes peering out of a mottled bag of pink skin. The little girl whose arm stuck straight out from her shoulder, held aloft by a PVC pipe welded to a cast at her waist.
During our visit, I came upon a room where shrieks shattered the air. Inside, Patch and another clown bent over the bed of a child who'd just had the bandages changed. They were singing "Hush Little Baby Don't Say a Word." I stood beside them, joining in. Then I saw another bed. On it lay a second child. The body was skeletal, wrapped like a mummy in greasy gauze. The head was shaven and the ears were caked with cinder-like blood. The eyes ranged all over the room, terrified, big and startled, like a doomed animal. The body vibrated with terrible trembling.
I stood by the bed and continued singing. Slowly, I stroked my hands in the air just above the body, pulling the energy down from the head to the feet. And I kept singing. Even after Patch and the other clown left, I sang whatever lullabies, spirituals or gentle Russian songs came into my head. Always stroking and singing.
Gradually, the trembling lessened and stopped. The eyes settled. At last I could bend over the child's head and our eyes met. In that moment, I felt complete, satisfied. "This is so natural, so easy," I thought. Did the child notice that the face bending over it was white with a red nose? Did the child care that the clown was unskilled at silliness? My entree into the burn ward was my clown costume. My gift to the child had been myself. I remembered what every clown I'd met--in Portland and on the tour--had said: "The best way to be a clown is to be yourself." Even though I had no routine, I was a successful clown.
As "Nasal Diplomats," our troupe interacted with all manner of Russians. Our silliness broke barriers, bringing smiles and laughter to burdened people and into sad and difficult situations. We met Russians, adults and children, whose dignity and generosity touched us. We were inspired by people who, like Maria and Ilya, strive to bring individuality and brightness into daily life in a land where lack and indistinction are the norm. The clowns flew away from Russia resolved to support our Russian friends from afar, as we might someone in a prison or cancer ward, to send letters, cards, tapes and trinkets, anything to let them know that they are not forgotten.
And I? I flew from Russia unaware that the clown was about to become part of my personal package. To my surprise, the next time I visited someone in a hospital, I found it impossible not to go as a clown. Almost of her own accord, "Rosie," who evolved into "Lady Fruitloop," incorporated herself into my presentations to schoolchildren, wellness groups, and workshops. Clowning in Russia revealed that magic happens when I risk offering myself in a colorful and light-hearted way. As one woman in a cancer group pointed out, "When you show up dressed like this, you give me permission to be lighter." I'm hooked on spreading laughter--the best medicine.
Barbara Brewster is the author of Down Under All Over and Journey to Wholeness. She teaches Power of Play, Rambunctious Writing and Clowning for Cowards workshops Australia-wide to adults who want to enhance their sparkle, health and creativity. Tel: 07 5476 6690. Project for A Perfect World, Seattle, USA, can be contacted at 206-762-5257. Further information about Patch Adams is available in his book Gesundheit!
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