Tabitha Naisiko, UgandaI attended the summer school with the hope of learning more about epistemological and methodological approaches to human development from an international perspective. I did this with the aim of integrating this outlook into my research. Having completed the school, I was looking forward to sitting and continue writing my thesis as soon as possible. However, it all turned out to be complicated. It is a month ago that I left Yogya, yet I have not done any serious writing since.  The summer school was a reflective process on the kind of development and pluralism work we do in our own countries. One of the exercises was to write up a project proposal as a means of integrating theory into practice. This to me was a re-introduction to reality and the departure from academic utopia. It made me recall the situation in the community I am studying for my PhD. Being the only community in Uganda that practices female genital mutilation (FGM), many researchers have...

Sherria Ayuandini, IndonesiaWhat would be THE litmus test that you just experienced something quite remarkable? Easy. You simply can’t stop blabbering about the incident to the other people around you. Family and friends, colleagues and acquaintances, even strangers and bystanders don’t get to be spared of the story. You can be even more sure of it as you didn’t yet stop yourself even when you received that special look from your friends. A look that if put into verbal expression would fall somewhere along the line of “Puh-leez, enough already!” or “Kill me! Kill me now!” I lost count of how many times my friends bestowed me of such look that early August, or they, in return, of how many times I went on and on and on about this awesome one month Yogyakartan experience. I grew to be very good at finding whatever obscure connections there was between everything my friends and I talked about with what I then succinctly referred to as “Summer School”. “I don’t feel like having pizz...

Ambrose Kibuuka, UgandaMy silence never means indifference. Since the summer school ended I have been reflecting on the content, context, method and outcome of the Yogya experience. The winds of my thoughts have meandered in several directions, leaving behind them scattered heaps of personal opinions, positions and questions. At this point I must confess, especially to Ram, that despite the ever gathering heaps, I decided not to complicate or even problematize the dunes in any way. In so doing, had hoped to find a perpetual refuge in Leonardo Da Vinci’s dictum, “simplicity is the ultimate sophistication”. Each dune of opinion, position or questions appeared to be an isolated and accomplished entity, not needing to be connected to any other or the others. I dint foresee a possibility, let alone the need to knit any common strands across such pillages of thoughts. Hence, the long silence. Little did I realize however, that I was only engaging myself in an unsustainable and short-live...

Kevin Pijpers, the NetherlandsWhen you are new to the studies of humanistics and philosophy like me, things tend to get very exciting. You don’t know what to expect and more than that, you are not yet able to know what to expect, also because of the at times incoherent thematic approach of our education. Whether or not this excited state of being is the fundamental state of life or a state of confusion (or both!) I will hopefully get to understand at some point. The point is that there is a given context - namely the university and its discourse - and there is you, the newbie who is amazed at everything life throws at her. This amazement or other esthetic feeling you experience and how intense it feels, is in my opinion the fundamental drive to get to know the discourse of a place and to participate in it, in your own way. So, after a while – or rather all the while – you start to live the discourse and to fit into the existing structure, obviously including changing the structure,...

Ivana Prazic, SerbiaAt first I though of giving this text the following title: “One Month After….” It is a rather telling way of putting it, isn’t it? As the attending of the 2009 International Summer School at various paces fades into my mnemonic folders, the four weeks that went into its making seem to have already gained historical proportions. At least in my life they did. Indeed, the external marks of the Summer School still surround my physicality in palpable ways. The group photo, for instance, has neatly found its way to the top of my tallest bookshelf, the transparent wrapping preventing it from getting covered by layers of dust, beaming with all the glory of our colourful smiles and gaudy attires onto anyone who would venture into my room. Beads I acquired in Bali decorate the other shelf, when I give them rest from beautifying my bust, that is. And the already legendary and highly fashionable “Balinese pants” still await to be worn by me in the entirety of the acquir...