A child of forced migrants

My name is Maria Alves Silva, better known as Mari Alves. My activism in organized social movements and commitment to the interests of the working classes began when I got to know the Landless Workers’ Movement, the MST, in my pilgrimage through the field of popular education. I occupy an encampment and dream of the settlement of workers that, on July 20, 2002, therefore, 18 years ago, led by the MST, occupied land in the neighborhood of Perus, in the city of São Paulo, where they set up an encampment called Comuna da Terra Irmã Alberta (Sr. Alberta Communal Land). Since then, I have lived in this encampment, and I am one of those responsible for managing it. My life as an educator, however, began long before my meeting up with the MST. It’s a long story that began when I was still an adolescent, even before that.

I was born in July 1953, in a small town in the backcountry of Paraiba called Princesa Isabel, at the border with the state of Pernambuco. I was a child of forced migrants⁴; my parents arrived in the state of São Paulo, away from the capital city, when I was still a child. They worked on the land. Some years after that, they went to the state of Paraná and worked in the coffee fields there. Like every child of a rural worker, I got up very early to help my father in the labor. That’s how I learned to work on the land.

Student and lay teacher in rural schools

In the country, it wasn’t always possible to attend schools, even when they existed. The few schools I studied at were at the edge of the main roads and access to them was difficult. Sometimes you had to walk around five or six kilometers or ride forever to get to school. As work relations in the field were very precarious, we had to move a lot from farm to farm, and that had disastrous effects on my school life, as well as on the life of the teachers and of rural education itself. But that instability of the students wasn’t the only factor that made rural education into a precarious and fragmented education.

The rural schools that I attended there in Paraná were only open six months of the year. In addition to there being no interest of the local municipal governments in keeping rural schools in operation the whole year, and not even in ensuring a permanent teacher in each one of them, the children of rural workers could only attend school between harvest times, because their labor was considered indispensable to the harvest. When the school went back into operation, they went back to classes, but the extended break in the studies, along with the absence of permanent teachers, made learning really precarious. For that reason, the big majority continued illiterate or semi-literate at fifteen years of age. I was lucky, because when we got to Paraná, I was already in the third year of primary education and there was a permanent teacher on the farm where we went to work. That teacher, whose name I don’t remember, lived in town, but she went to the farm at the beginning of the week and stayed there all week long. The owner of the farm was an influential citizen in the region and there had to be permanent teachers on his farms. History showed, however, that being politically influential was not a necessary and sufficient condition to keep an exclusive permanent teacher in the school of that farm. I don’t know why the teacher left the school, but it then came to operate like the others, that is, every six months, in between harvests of the coffee crop. Even so, there was the memory of a professional dedicated and committed to her work, as well as the striking example of the commitment of the community to the school. Everything I experienced there in those years I carry with me even now. That’s why I consider the first years of school as fundamental in the process of training for socialization. In the long breaks from school activities, I studied on my own, because I had already acquired the habit.

An appreciation for reading, for example, was encouraged by my parents. When the parents themselves encourage something, children really become motivated. My mother, for example, who was illiterate, asked me to read her the fairy tale books that the teacher of the rural school on the farm we worked on lent me, in São Paulo, soon after we arrived from the Northeast. In Paraná, especially after the rural school I attended lost its permanent teacher and the school came to operate every six months, the situation at home stimulated appreciation for reading. Every week, my father brought home newspapers and cordel books⁵. He, who was semi-literate, liked me to read him those cordel books, stories that he loved so much, maybe because they reminded him of his culture, of the place he grew up in. The newspapers were folded and separated for me to read during the week. They were important readings because access to books was practically impossible under the conditions we were in.

Some years went by and the situation of the rural school there in Paraná, particularly in the region we were in, had gotten even worse. The precarious working conditions of the teacher added to the no less precarious conditions of the physical spaces where the schools operated. On the farm we worked on, for example, there was a wooden school that collapsed. The school was re-erected by the workers, but there was no teacher designated for it. The community appealed to the mayor to try to resolve the problem. It was in that context that I began to make myself into a teacher.

Once the wooden school was re-erected, the community went to the mayor to have him hire me as the schoolteacher. Given the difficulties confronted at that time in finding and hiring teachers who were willing to work in the rural area, the mayor agreed to hire me. But for me to take on classes, I would have to take an equivalency exam for the fifth grade of primary school. I took the exam and was approved. Satisfying that condition, I could start to work, even though I had no professional training to carry out the job. For two years in a row, I was the reading or literacy teacher of the children of that community of rural workers.

The school was a long way from where we lived. There were a lot of students - more than forty I think, but I don’t remember for sure. Most of the children had never gone to school. Although the salary was minimal, I worked with love and satisfaction. That job was one of my first accomplishments. From time to time, I heard about comments made by those, my first students. They are very grateful to me for having given them the opportunity to learn to read, write, and count. Many of them continued their studies, and that makes me truly happy and fulfilled.

Educator and activist in social movements

In the middle of the 1970s, upon going back to the state of São Paulo, more precisely to the city of São Paulo, I worked in various branches of the economy that were not at all related to education. Since I did not have formal teacher training, I couldn’t give classes. However, the fact that I was living in a poor community made it possible for me to return to the field of education. The community was at the foot of the Cantareira Mountains and did not have leaders open to assuming the responsibility of directing the political struggle of the community and of presenting their demands. It was then that I began to act together with the community, becoming one of their leaders. Because of this activity of mine, I was invited to participate in popular education practices.

Among the various courses of staff training for popular education that I began to attend as soon as I returned to São Paulo, I would highlight those offered by the Pontifícia Universidade Católica de São Paulo - PUCSP, Associação de Estudantes Católicos - AEC, Centro Cida Romano, and Centro Cultural Vereda, among other institutions. That way, I almost “naturally” arrived at Ação Educativa⁶ and, through it, I began to participate in the Youth and Adult Literacy Movement (Movimento de Alfabetização de Jovens e Adultos - MOVA).

It was in this context that I began to act in the field of popular education. I didn’t work in industry anymore, as I had been moved out of it because of health problems. I participated in the Street Art project, which worked with needy children. I got involved with popular health care movements in the basic health clinic (Unidades Básicas de Saúde). I was active as a youth and adult educator (educadora de jovens e adultos - EJA) for five years. That was a great experience because I addressed topics regarding environmental education, which were therefore quite relevant for day-to-day life in the countryside.

Along with all that, I also worked in a community radio called Cantareira Radio in the community I lived in in the Vila Brasilândia neighborhood. This radio project went into operation under my responsibility, even without following regulations. The radio transmitter was in a very protected location. We got to the location and stayed locked up there. We turned on the transmitter and began to work, always attentive to possible threats. When we perceived some of them, we quickly interrupted the broadcast and left the location, which remained locked up as a closely guarded secret. We worked in this atmosphere for a long time. I even came to take a course to be an announcer, which allowed me to head up a program on Saturdays. On a certain occasion, the creator and owner of the radio asked me to interview two directors of the MST, who were in the community working on distributing pamphlets. I’ll never forget that request. Thanks to that interview, I got to know better the work of the MST. I was invited, by those two directors, to participate in a meeting of coordinators and monitors of the MST that they were going to conduct in a few days in a church that was near the community. I went to that meeting and, since then, I came to be part of the movement. To do that, however, I had to interrupt the work I had been performing for five years as a youth and adult educator in the community I lived in.

I remember very well the day I let my students know about my decision. Soon after the meeting with the MST directors and my decision to become affiliated and dedicate myself to it, I went into the classroom with some pamphlets, explained to the students what the MST was, told them that I was joining it and that, for that reason, I was leaving the community and, consequently, the work I was doing in it, including with them. They were all stunned by my decision and asked me what was going to happen to them. I asked them to stay calm, that they would not be abandoned and that I would continue with them until the arrival of a new teacher. That was a very difficult time for me, for I was giving up what I had for what was uncertain.

I have many memories of that period. In the community I lived in until then, in Vila Brasilândia, I helped to develop projects, like those conceived by MEB (the Base Education Movement) and funded by the CNBB (the Brazilian National Bishops Conference) and I received a small remuneration for that work. It wasn’t a lot but it was right and I was able to live on it. In the MST, the work would be only voluntary, and so not remunerated. It was the work of an activist, of someone who believed in the cause pursued by the movement. For that reason, some of my companions from Vila did not initially believe that I would leave there, that I would go out on a limb. But that’s what I did.

My life in popular education continued however. In the MST encampment that had been designated for me to begin to live and struggle, when they learned that I was working in popular education in MOVA for more than five years, they proposed for me to set up and assume an EJA class at that location. And so it was. They quickly put up a canvas tent at the back of the encampment which is now the Dom Pedro Casaldáliga settlement. The next day, I was already there with the companions doing that which I most like to do: teach.

In that MST encampment, classes finished at 6:30 p.m. So, I caught a bus that passed on the road near the encampment, got off at the community where I had lived until then, and went directly to the EJA classroom. I had this routine for some time, the time necessary for the directors of MOVA to prepare another educator to take my place. And that’s what happened. From that time on, I began to live exclusively dedicated to the MST.

Under the condition of an encampment occupant and encampment supervisor, I was designated by the MST directory to go to Rio Grande do Sul and take a technical course of high school level on youth and adult education, which was offered by the Instituto Técnico de Estudos e Pesquisas da Reforma Agrária - ITERRA, at the Escola Josué de Castro. Even with all the training I had acquired over the time of my activism in popular education movements, the two years that I spent in that school in Rio Grande do Sul were a time of great learning; they were simply fantastic. When I returned to the encampment, I was determined to apply all the knowledge I had acquired in the course. I wanted to make my corn patch, raise a garden, that is, make my lot in the encampment become productive. In the midst of that enthusiasm, I was informed that I had been recommended to be part of the first group in the Ecopedagogy (Pedagogia da Terra) course that would begin to be offered that year by the Universidade Federal de São Carlos - UFSCar. And there I went, once more, to the classroom.

“It was a really big challenge for me to study for a degree in higher education”

This Ecopedagogy would be a four-year course, like the other Pedagogy courses. It would begin in 2008 and end in 2011. The first group, of which I was part, began with sixty students, and few left the course over the four years. All the students were workers connected with rural social movements that had established a partnership with UFSCar to train their staff, such as the MST, the Federação dos Empregados Rurais e Assalariados do Estado de São Paulo - FERAESP, the Organização de Mulheres Assentadas e Quilombolas do Estado de São Paulo - OMAQUESP, the Federação (dos trabalhadores) da Agricultura Familiar (do Estado de São Paulo) - FAF, as well as quilombo dwellers⁷.

Studying for a degree in higher education was a really big challenge for me, but I was able to overcome all the obstacles. I finished and received a maximum score (ten) on my final course completion paper. I owe this opportunity for personal and professional achievement to the MST and to UFSCar.

Given my lived experience with popular education, the topic of my course completion paper was about a very frequent practice, especially in MST encampments: the cirandas.

The ciranda is a different type of school; it is not a “place to deposit children”, as are many nurseries or day-care centers that I know. Above all, children need to like to be there in that place for all the time they are there. For that reason, the ciranda needs to know how to awaken the interest of the children, but without failing to have a purpose and direction. It is a place for play, art, and fun, but also for a great deal of learning. It is a training space. There is a pedagogy to guide the practices of the educators that perform, in that space, part of the work of the entire process of training children, whether these educators have specific training or not.

The training of the educators that act or will act in the cirandas is of fundamental importance. Most of these educators learn and are trained on-the-job. One of the main characteristics of the cirandas is in the fact of its educators being part of the encampment and being connected with the MST.

The educators that act in the cirandas have to learn the entire work dynamic with the children. Whenever possible, the mothers also participate in this space of interaction. The feeling of community strengthens little by little in the child. Their mothers are with them. Their teachers (educators) also make up part of the community. All of them are there, around the child. The community is present at all times. That makes the children of the encampment feel at home, in the company of their own group. Bonds of identity begin to arise and strengthen.

The feeling of solidarity, like that of identity, is also nurtured in the cirandas. Such a feeling is a constant concern of the educators and is nurtured, for example, at lunch time. Mothers already know how to proceed, because we have great concern for the good nutrition of the children. Everything is everyone’s and is shared, regardless of who made it. Every time the encampment receives some food donation, cookies for example, this food is for all, and all will care for it. There is no possibility for this food or any other type of donation to be only for one or for some.

The ciranda is very important for the encampment. Even if the child attends another school, (s)he continues to participate in the activities promoted by the ciranda upon returning to the encampment. We understand this to be a space that will keep the children connected with the struggles of the encampment.

The struggle for land and education here in the encampment Sr. Alberta Communal Land was the topic I developed in my final course completion paper in Ecopedagogy at UFSCar (Cf. ^{SILVA, 2011}). In the paper, I describe this struggle. I speak of childhood education within an MST encampment, of the struggle for youth and adult literacy, of my commitment to education. I explain the understanding that I have acquired about the activity of the MST. It is a pedagogical activity, a “pedagogical movement”, because from the time that subjects begin to participate in the movement, they can develop and grow in the sense of improving their life and study conditions, as well as being able to provide this to others. It is like a cycle: subjects leave the wretched life they are in, raise their self-esteem because they plant, produce their food, and participate in projects coordinated by the movement, and, acting in that way, they grow and make the movement grow.

To complete the degree in Ecopedagogy and write this paper was not at all easy for me. Besides my physical limitations, as I have arthrosis problems, my biggest challenge was to have to read and understand the texts that composed the bibliography of the subjects that were part of the course curriculum, that were more and more difficult. For somebody who didn’t know what an academic environment was, who had never studied in “cutting edge” schools, but that had attended rural schools, whose teaching conditions were quite precarious, the only option was to break paradigms, in other words, be much more disciplined than the others and make a super-human effort to understand those texts and the discussions we had in the classroom, and, on top of that, learn to write in a clear, concise, and coherent way that was also grammatically correct. For sure, all that learning does not happen from one day to the next. It can take years! The most important thing, though, is that the seeds were cast on fertile land and that many of them will be able to grow if they are well cared for. But for that to happen, it is necessary to be able to rely on people that reach out to those in need. That was what happened to me.

In the last year I was at the university, when I was writing my course completion paper, I met a certain time with the advisor for the paper, professor Dr. Luiz Bezerra Neto. I told him at that time that I would like to do a quality job, a job that corresponded to academic expectations. The fact that I was a woman from the countryside could not be taken as an excuse, as a veiled authorization for me to be able to do a job of whatever sort. No, not in any way. I asked his help and my needs were readily met. I received all the orientation necessary to carry out this academic study of mine. Consequently, I was approved with a maximum score by the other members of the committee that evaluated my work. A feeling of jubilation took hold of me at that time. Only people like me would be able, not to understand, but to have an idea of the extent of such a feeling and appraise it.

“Pulling my bags once more”

Mission accomplished, I left books, computer, and other materials I had brought from São Carlos to the side, burning with the desire to take care of my crop field. But I wasn’t given time for that. My performance in the Ecopedagogy course made the MST directors give me another university mission, this time in the School of Education of the Universidade de São Paulo. It was a specialization course in agrarian living, something for which I had been struggling for a long time. I didn’t think twice about accepting the invitation. So, I went back to academic life. I went back to pulling my bags, living from one place to another, but very happy.

This specialization course was offered in partnership with the Escola Nacional Florestan Fernandes. Student housing was in that school. It was a peaceful environment because that space was ours. At USP, however, we had to mark out our space, as always occurs to people that come from socially marginalized regions. But it was very good because I met up again with marvelous people, like professor Dr. Lisete Regina Gomes Arelaro, who I had known from popular education movements when I still never imagined that one day I would work with this topic.

It was a marvelous course! Thanks to it, I could return to and deepen topics and questions that were approached in a superficial way in my undergraduate studies, particularly in my course completion paper. Topics and questions that I was very eager to return to and that were open for examination in this course. I took advantage of the opportunity and developed a study on the use and conservation of native and landrace seeds in the Sr. Alberta Communal Land encampment. I made an outstanding study (Cf. ^{SILVA, 2015}).

The professor that advised me in my course completion study was a woman who was quite engaged, widely traveled, and knowledgeable about the topic. Wherever she went, she took a bag of landrace seeds with her. That helped us a lot, because we could conduct experiments with those seeds. Actually, the aim of the professor was to disseminate the use of native and landrace seeds, especially in the universe of those that struggled for land ownership, like us in the MST.

The landrace seed is strong and important for our people; that’s why I defend it so much and seek to spread my knowledge wherever I go. I grow and exchange seeds with other companions. This struggle also came to be my struggle. It has become a passion. There are people that come from Campinas to pick up bags and bags of seeds from us here. There are others that come from Vale do Ribeira. We made a crop of landrace corn here at Sr. Alberta in partnership with the companions from Vale. Many landrace seeds went there.

The reflections of Paulo Freire, who I had known from the time of my activity in MOVA, just as those of Josué de ^{Castro (2006}) regarding new food matrices, among many other thinkers from popular movements, were fundamental for development of my final study in the specialization course. Besides my advisor, I could count on a co-advisor, who also helped me a lot, especially in regard to understanding and establishment of concepts fundamental to popular education and to ecological education. In the presentation and defense of my study, I told everyone it was not only mine, but of all those who had participated directly and indirectly in its development, especially the professors with the responsibility of advisor and co-advisor.

“There is no satisfaction greater than teaching what I learned”

Arriving at a school and remaining there for two hours, in the afternoon or at night, discussing and debating topics of interest to the community is very important. Debating, for example, about land reform, which is one of the main topics of the movement, not necessarily about conflicts among land owners, but about the environment, is a topic of fundamental importance for a class that works the land and lives from this work. This is a topic that always needs to be debated, and not only a few times. Talking about production of healthy foods, alternative lifestyles, and natural resources, about water on the planet and care for water sources, for example, are topics that are inexhaustible. They should be part of a curriculum of continuing education of workers on the land. We wouldn’t need many (human and financial) resources to do that, because these topics are part of our day-to-day life. There is a lot of talk going on from people about these topics, but they are very distant from the reality they are talking about. They work in institutions that are totally separated, or nearly so, from real life. They don’t live on the shores of a polluted river and don’t need it to survive, as we do. Therefore, we have expertise, as they say in academic circles. Where do you see and live with environmental degradation? Here, in the Sr. Alberta Communal Land. We are therefore the ones most interested in this cause. Clearly, knowledge produced in academic circles regarding ecological questions is important, even fundamental, but it is not enough. We need public policies on basic sanitation, on rational use of natural resources, and on concrete measures of environmental protection. We also need to learn to make use of rainwater and reuse waste water, for example. Yet, we can’t always rely on academic personnel for that.

Here at Sr. Alberta, I already did some workshops about planting grapes and management practices after harvest. Some students came and had practical classes, but it was a passing interest. It would be interesting if there were a fixed schedule, uninterrupted work on these questions, especially those related to water, which is extremely important for all of us here in the encampment, since water is scarce. The water that supplies the encampment is captured from a natural spring and is consumed without treatment. It was channeled by all of us and the costs of channeling it were apportioned. When Sr. Alberta is no longer an encampment and comes to be a settlement, that is, when the occupation of the land is legalized, I will strive to have a continuing schedule of discussion of all these questions. That is one of my biggest dreams. Creating a permanent EJA school is another dream.

For me, there is no greater satisfaction than teaching what I learned, what I know how to do, even without being paid for that work. It is very gratifying to hear from someone that you taught how to read and write that they intend to continue studies because they learned to see its value and because they became aware that knowledge is fundamental for living in society and in nature. It is not about subordinating nature to our interests, but learning how to live in it, because we are part of it.

So, I became a popular education teacher, engaged in the organized movement of landless workers. Yes, committed to the struggle of the occupants of the encampment like me here on the Sr. Alberta Communal Land, but also committed to the struggle of the entire working class. Always active in the field of education and of political, social, economic, and cultural training of my people.

Towards a school from the rural area for the rural area

Unlike what occurs in settlements, there are rarely schools in MST encampments. This is one of the main reasons why some families have resistance to joining the movement and to participating in occupations promoted by it. In our base work with families, they always ask about studies for their children, if these studies will continue or not. This resistance is less when the encampment projects are near towns, because there are generally several schools around the areas to be occupied. The state is obliged by law to make school openings available to residents around the public schools. This is a serious problem to be reckoned with by the MST because even if school openings are guaranteed for children of the encampment occupants, these schools are generally not “from the rural area” or even “for the rural area”. There is a huge difference between these types of schools.

Source: ^{Teixeira (2019})

Figure 2 “Sr. Alberta” Communal Land 

The school “from the rural area” should be conceived and administered by the people from the rural area, whereas the school “for the rural area” is conceived and administered by public authorities, nearly always unconnected or very distant from the reality of those who live in the rural area. Since they are responsible for setting up the entire structure of these schools, they also end up deciding on structure and curriculum proposals and teaching methods. Not infrequently, these schools operate like urban schools. They end up adopting the programmed content of the urban schools. The school directors do not have ties to the rural area, they are not from the rural area (from the country). They are also not affiliated with the movement and are not committed to land reform. They are schools that do not act in a synchronized way with the reality of the rural area.

When a teacher proposes to follow the curriculum conceived by the Pastoral Land Commission (Comissão Pastoral da Terra), its practice will be coordinated with the rural area, with the movement. For that reason, we strive for the teachers of the rural school to be from the encampment or settlement itself, from the movement, because they will then work according to the reality of the child from the rural area.

I always like to illustrate the understanding we have of this question by telling a little story about a child from the town that went to the rural area and rode a horse. In stories like that, there is often a person that takes care of the animal, an employee, and a beautiful and well cared for river to beautify the place. The child that does not live in the rural area, who only goes to the rural area as a trip or outing, tends to see or represent life in the rural area in a really distorted way, because of not belonging to it. The child from the rural area represents the world in which (s)he lives in an organic way, because of being part of it. I once went to a rural school in Araraquara where the children said they knew how to care for the crop field because they went along with their parents in the daily work. They knew how to plant, harvest, and prepare the food for their own consumption.

This is the life we are striving for. It is a struggle for education and establishing people in the rural area.

I talk about the struggle for education because I have been dedicated to it for a long time. Education and school education are interdependent social practices, but they are distinct. There are differences between them, but also differences from within each of them, as I hope to have made clear when I contrasted the school from the rural area and the school for the rural area. This same reasoning applies to the exercise of contrasting education through work and education for work. We cannot allow others to think for us, to conceive and impose control mechanisms over us. The history taught in schools is dishonest. Unlike what is told in most history books, everything started with disrespect for indigenous peoples, the plundering of riches for increasing the wealth of other countries, which occurs until now. We are the “backyard” of the first world countries. When these countries want to solve fuel problems, for example, they plant sugarcane here, devastate and contaminate our soil, our water, to solve their fuel problems. This is disrespect for the sovereignty of the country and the people of this country.

Many years have gone by since the day I, still a girl, began to work as a lay teacher in a rural school. The struggle for a quality rural school education, however, has hardly begun.

Final considerations

Understanding history⁸ as práxis is understanding it as a field of many possibilities. This has been the presupposition encouraging and supporting the research practices of the authors of this article in the field of history of education, regardless of the time at which one or another began to be active in it. According to this presupposition, there are no models, standards, or laws governing the course of history, or consensus regarding the various ways of carrying out research within the discipline/subject field of history. There are only particular practices of research, practices that are therefore historically situated. Trained and practicing historians that recognize, express, and affirm such specificity are not few in number, and incidentally, this cannot be seen as a “privilege” of the discipline of history. Two such historians are widely known in Brazil in the area of education: the Englishman, Edward Palmer Thompson, and the Brazilian, Déa Ribeiro Fenelon. This understanding is present in many texts written by these two historians.

The points for reflection we present in this section could be completely ignored, as they do not bring about the objectives drawn up for this article. However, since each and every human practice (action) requires (theoretical) reflection on itself, and considering colleagues that work with (or are interested in) oral history, with whom all dialogue is always necessary and highly welcome - so as to broaden the analytical discussion, for example - we decided to highlight the following two closely related points for reflection. The first is in regard to the presence of oral history in the practices of research in education and aims at circumscribing the place for insertion of our practice - and consequently also of the article here published - in historiography related to the topic-issue in point. The second highlights the way the authors of this article made use of the products of research and of philosophical, theoretical, and methodological reflections of researchers that have demarcated this research, whose results are partially presented here, namely, ^{Gramsci (1999}; 2001; 2007)), Edward Palmer ^{Thompson (1981}; 2002), Jose Larossa Bondìa (2011), José Carlos Sebe Bom ^{Meihy (1991}; 2006a; 2006b), and Meihy in coauthorship with Fabíola Holanda (2007) and Leandro Seawright (2020). The first of these authors is part of a philosophical tradition in the sphere of which we have constructed our conception of the world, which is guided by the philosophy of praxis; the next two are at the foundation of the understanding that we come to have of the idea of experience; and the others are interlocutors with whom we share the same understanding regarding the possibilities of production of knowledge in the disciplinary field of history of education, in dialogue with history and with oral history.