A story for our times

Storytelling can be deceptively simple, but it takes years of practice, says Cathy Spagnoli

Photo: Murali Kumar K.

TRUE VOCATION Cathy Spagnoli: `It's important to go deep into a story and into yourself, to pick a tale that resonates with the audience'

IT isn't every day that you bump into a brilliant professional storyteller. Someone like the US-based Cathy Spagnoli.

In Bangalore on a vacation following a three-month Asian trip that covered Vietnam, Cambodia, Malaysia, Singapore and Chennai, the Seattle-based author of 16 books says: "Professional storytelling is not for the faint-hearted. Yet, I've supported my family by it for over 25 years. At one point, when I attended the Chautauqua writers' workshop, I realised I had more to offer as a storyteller than as a creative writer. When I published The World of Indian Stories (Tulika Books, 2003), I knew I'd like to keep writing books that would fit into the world of storytelling and encourage it. Others can write the Harry Potters."

Where does Cathy's story begin? Around 1978, she was teaching music, dance and drama at an upper crust Boston school, when she added a story module on. This evolved naturally into a larger whole, which her students loved. Soon afterwards, she met her future husband, Chennai-based sculptor S. Paramasivam. And Cathy tried storytelling on Chennai TV and in open sessions until they opted for the US in 1980.

True India

What of the highlights of her narrative life? "When our son Manu was just 13 months old, I was invited to an ashram school in Hyderabad. About 500 young kids under a banyan tree, along with visiting dignitaries, waited to listen to this white woman tell stories," she recalls vividly. "Halfway through the second story, I heard Manu crying. His voice grew louder and louder. Then the kindest thing happened. It taught me about India. The principal, Mr. Negi, said: `Your son needs you now. He can't wait. We'll wait for you to come back with more stories.' So, I nursed Manu, then continued with the session," Cathy adds with emotion.

When did stories turn into her lifeline? Probably at a Delhi hospital, where 20-year-old Cathy lay by an Afghan girl who was very ill. Brought up as a conservative Baptist, she had no clue where her Muslim friend had travelled to when she passed away. When she posed the query to some holy men, they responded with moving parables of Buddhist reincarnation and life cycles in Hinduism. "That's when I knew storytelling was going to be a part of my life. I've toyed with it on and off since then," Cathy recalls.

Enacting a sign language poem by a 12-year-old Israeli child, Cathy rewinds to her early experiences, "When poor refugees from south-east Asia settled around Seattle despite prejudice, I sought a grant from the U.S. Humanities Commission to share their stories through museums and schools. That's when an American publisher sought a manuscript from me. I was so naïve then that I said: Maybe later. I'm setting out on a three-week vacation now!"

Indians, Cathy avers, are natural storytellers because of their expressive gestures and facial expressions. "When I do workshops, I realise anyone can tell a story — if only they remember that the teller, the tale and the audience form a triangle. It's important to go deep into a story and into yourself, to pick a tale that resonates with the audience."

Her mantras

There are two craft mantras she adheres by. That it's important to assess your own skills, perhaps an individualistic streak of humour, to "begin where you are." And to just practise, practise, practise, for storytelling often appears deceptively simple. Cathy has proved her point through a session at the Singapore Press Club last year. That's where she rendered history as current legacy through a narrative of Chipeta Rodriguez, the first woman to be hanged in Texas in 1863.

Can current events be rendered with as much sensitivity? Cathy believes so. Perhaps that's why she and Paramasivam are currently working jointly on a multicultural project for Singapore's Racial Harmony Day in 2006.

ADITI DE

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