- Notes from the Birdman
- April 9, 2008 Filed under: Birdhouses, Firsts, Friends, People
Michael Parayno is a professor of Ethnic Studies in Berkeley and the founder of the award-winning Berkeley Rustic Birdhouses. Michael made a name for himself recycling old materials and turning them into fantastic works of art for the garden. After reading about Michael’s work in a Sunday magazine and watching the endless stream of tsunami wreckage roll over the coast of Sri Lanka, I became inspired to start P2P Rescue’s first ground up project. I asked Michael to share some words about his experience. Thanks Michael! –SK
I live in Berkeley but I was in Vietnam when the tsunami hit in December 2004. I stayed glued to the television the rest of the trip–holed up in my hotel room in a state of shock. Little did I know I would revisit the tsunami-hit areas a few months later, in person, tasked to train village boys in Sri Lanka how to construct birdhouses out of post-tsunami debris to help raise funds for those who continued to rebuild.
In April 2005, I was contacted by Sean Kelly, founder of P2P Rescue, about the possibility of doing some work in Sri Lanka as an artist. Sean read an article about me, the “Birdhouse Guy from Berkeley,” or as my neighbors call me, the “Birdman,” in the San Francisco Chronicle and he was inspired to merge my art and salvaged materials from the tsunami wreckage to do something constructive.
I had always thought about doing something like that but felt I didn’t really have the institutional backing to direct such a major project myself. I would often romanticize just bringing my jigsaw, drill, hammer, and a screwdriver to disaster areas. But that was all a dream for me until Sean contacted me with his idea. Of course, I jumped at his offer.
There was a small personal cost. Sean wasn’t funded either so I had to pay for my own trip overseas for three weeks and cancel the classes I was teaching in the San Francisco Bay Area. Yet it was an opportunity I understood. I knew how powerless I felt when I was in Vietnam paralyzed by the gruesome human toll of the disaster, and my contributions seemed small relative to the needs in Sri Lanka.
In October of that year, I packed a few pairs of jeans and some t-shirts along with my tools and a sample birdhouse for the aspiring young village artists and headed to Sri Lanka. I landed in Colombo, the capital, in the dead of night. A hotel driver picked me up and drove four hours south to Venamulla, where I was to be based during my three-week stay. There was little time for sleep–I was too excited to be there anyway–so I just looked out from my third-floor hotel balcony at the palm trees and imagined how high the water level must have been when the tsunami hit. I also marveled at the serene beauty that dawn morning as the palms near the beach danced backed and forth to a cool tropical breeze.
I even started to interview myself with a video camera, but had to stop. I just couldn’t express my feelings or articulate my thoughts about the whole project. It was overwhelming in the beginning but I took solace in the fact that I knew how to make birdhouses out of discarded materials and had been doing it for eight years. My job was to train young village men how to make birdhouses. That seemed easy enough so I decided just to stick to the script. When Sean called me later that morning, I hadn’t slept a wink, but I was so excited I was ready to rock-and-roll.
After a short “tuk-tuk” (three wheeler) ride to the workshop Sean had arranged, I met the village elder, the young men we quickly nicknamed the “Birdboys of Venamulla,” and the community folks who had come to greet me. It was a memorable reception. Everyone treated me like a rock star who was making a major impact in their lives, even upon our first meeting that day.
My goal there was to help, but the overall idea was that after my training, the Birdboys would have to help themselves. They would be in charge of creating their own work–birdhouses that would be shipped to the US to sell to American consumers. For the next few weeks, the boys and I developed such a close relationship they became my younger brothers. They were able to produce a few hundred birdhouses to be shipped to the US even before I had to leave.
For me, the time to leave came too soon. It was a tearful goodbye, and even today, I try not to get emotional about the experience. But it has profoundly changed my perspective on my art. I have since gone on to train local boys in other countries such as the Philippines. It’s a beautiful way to help others with economic self sufficiency in areas frequented by foreign tourists.
Fastforward to today. I have not left Sri Lanka and the tsunami of 2004 in my mind. In my art studio I still have 14 birdhouses the boys made and I’m finding myself somehow resistant to letting them go. It’s been nearly three years since I visited Sri Lanka and yet everytime I go into my studio, I am transplanted again to the country and memories of the birdhouse project.
I still have some guilt that I could have done more to help with the project, and I really commend Sean for committing with his vision to help the people of Sri Lanka.
Michael
April 11th, 2008 at 12:11 pm
Michael has NO reason to feel guilty. His work with us on behalf of Sri Lanka, even to this date, continues to inspire. Thanks Michael for this and future contributions.
April 22nd, 2008 at 8:33 pm
[…] is where the people behind P2P Rescue have their say. From status updates from Sean himself, to stories of how the bird houses were made, this is the face of P2P Rescue, and is certainly what your average will find most interesting. If […]