“‘Accountant’ in Spanish is the same as the word for ‘storyteller’,” explains Luciana De Mello, an author, scriptwriter and journalist.
Born and raised by a working-class family in Argentina, Luciana recalls being encouraged to pursue a career in accounting due to her aptitude for maths. Her mother would tell her to “grab a calculator and a brief case and go out there and make money”.
However, with an inherent passion for writing Luciana had other plans.
“The word is ‘contadora’,” she says.
“And I remember going into primary one and the first sentence I ever wrote was, ‘When I grow up, I want to be a writer and a contadora’ – a storyteller… or an accountant depending on the way you look at it.”
Luciana went on to write for Argentinian newspaper Página 12 covering literature, feminism and queer culture.
“I originally started writing about books and doing book reviews but quickly realised I loved interviewing people and having a chat,” she explains.
“Then Página 12 launched a queer supplement called SOY which means ‘I Am’ and it was the first weekly queer supplement to be released by a paper in Argentina.
“So, I started writing some articles for SOY as well as for the feminist supplement because I’m a woman of colour; at the time I was a single mum, and my family had a migrant background, so I felt like there was a lot I could talk about.”
In 1985 the University of Buenos Aires set up a university-in-prison programme offering weekly in-person classes that allow prisoners to obtain the same undergraduate degrees as students outside of the prison.
Due to Luciana’s love of literature and her own experience growing up in a marginalised area of Argentina, she was determined to get involved with the programme. .
“I came from a really low working-class background, and I wanted to help people who came from similar environments,” she says.
“I love literature but one of the things I love the most is sharing it in places where it’s needed.”
She ended up establishing a reading and writing workshop in Devoto Prison – one of the largest in Buenos Aires.
“I was in contact with the University of Buenos Aires because I studied there so I spoke to the people running the programme inside the jails and we initially decided to run a reading workshop.”
She describes teaching in the prison as a transforming experience: “Most of the people who go to prison in Latin America are poor, 80% are brown or black, and they’ve never had the chance to go to school.
“So, when you spread literature or read out loud to people who haven’t experienced it before, something explodes.
“We had 20 students and a lot of them started to write their own stories and find their own voices.
“In the beginning they were writing about things that were completely fictional but by the end they started to write about themselves and their own lives – it was amazing.”
She recalls one student in particular who, after serving his time, completed a literature course and has since published three books and opened his own workshop in one of the poorer areas of the city.
“I learnt a lot inside those walls and although I couldn’t live without writing I will always prefer using literature as a tool to help people.”
Following on from her experience in Devoto Prison, in 2017 the Ernesto Sábato Foundation asked Luciana to coordinate reading and writing workshops for people undergoing rehabilitation in a neighbourhood on the outskirts of Buenos Aires.
“They called me because of the experience I had in the jail,” she explains.
“I didn’t think it was going to be harder but, in the jail, people weren’t taking any kind of drugs and they were really hungry for knowledge and freedom.
“But the population attending the rehabilitation workshop were struggling. They were trying to recover from an addiction, make a living, find a job and most of them had small children.
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“Most of the girls had been through prostitution or had a relapse so I had to find a way to reach that them.”
She explains that it was through showing her own vulnerability that she was able to form a relationship with the group.
“I remember once I arrived to take the workshop and I was sad because I’d been having some troubles and they noticed and asked, ‘What’s wrong teacher?’, and I tried to say I was OK, but they just knew.
“And then we just ended up talking about my problems and they gave such wise advice about life.
“From that day on we had a bond and there was trust there – life isn’t easy for anybody.”
Art is one of the biggest and most amazing tools that we have widen and empower democracy. Democracy is the rule of the people so if all these people in periphery don’t have a voice then it’s only a partial point of view
— Luciana De Mello
Through this relationship and mutual understanding Luciana was able to inspire her students and together they produced an anthology of work, put on a play and, among other things, took a memorable trip to the National Museum of Fine Arts in the heart of Buenos Aires.
“The poorer neighbourhoods in Buenos Aires never get the chance to go to a museum,” she says.
“But if you pay your taxes then you’re paying for museums, universities, schools and if you’re not able to attend any of those that’s so unfair.
“So, I took them to the national art gallery. There was about 18 of us and we took a bus, train and tram to get there and we brought drinks and sandwiches with us because we had no money to sit in a restaurant.
“The museum is situated in one of the most expensive areas in Buenos Aires, so people were looking at us because in that environment we did look strange, like we didn’t belong - but it’s as much ours as it is theirs.”
Whilst at the museum Luciana tasked the group with finding a piece of art that they were drawn to. They then had to take a picture and make notes explaining what it was they liked about the work they had chosen.
“When we finished our visit they were able to put into words a critique about the art in the museum and it was amazing. This is the importance of art - when you can connect like that. I just loved it.”
As a result of her work educating those in rehab and in Devoto Prison, as well as her previous work developing scripts for Argentinian production company Patagonik Film Group, Luciana was asked to help co-write a film called el suplente (The Substitute) alongside established Argentinian directors Maria Meira and a Diego Lerman.
“With this particular film they called me and asked me to help write it because I’d been working in the jail and in rehab centres and the producer was interested in my perspective about education in this context,” she recalls.
The film follows the mishaps of a substitute teacher working on the outskirts of Buenos Aires who is forced to take a stand when one of his students is threatened by a drug lord.
“It’s a film about education but in the margins, it’s about marginalised schools and how a teacher can make a difference.”
El suplente went on reach the top spot on Netflix Argentina’s most viewed chart.
“In these schools in the margins there are real problems of drug abuse, violence, domestic violence and what these teachers do for the kids and for their education is just titanic - and for such a poor salary.”
She moved to Northern Ireland in 2022 with her two children and husband Michael, who is originally from Derry.
“Belfast is quite punk, and I really like that,” she laughs, though she admits that she misses having the opportunity to connect and share art and literature with people who may not otherwise have experienced it.
Which is part of the reason why she has decided to take part in this year’s Belfast Book Festival, running her own workshop entitled Stories from The Periphery on June 8.
“It’s related to everything we’ve been talking about,” she explains.
“I’m really interested in finding out what’s going on in there and knowing what artists from the periphery are doing, thinking and how they’re expressing themselves.”
The workshop will involve reading, watching and talking about the work of writers, film-makers and artists from the periphery and offer the opportunity to work on your own creative writing.
“I want to bring literature, poetry, short stories of artists from the periphery to the people of Belfast,” she says.
“Art is one of the biggest and most amazing tools that we have widen and empower democracy. Democracy is the rule of the people so if all these people in periphery don’t have a voice then it’s only a partial point of view.”
