My body's been feeling achey since Thursday, but yesterday it kicked in on a whole new level and by 8pm I was in bed.  I didn't feel sick - just achey.  Last night was pretty difficult (too achey to sleep) but for whatever reason I feel slightly better today so I'm hoping all of this is just fatigue.  I was pretty busy this last week, and it would seem that high levels of busyness here are just simply unsustainable - it helps me understand much better why people here walk more slowly, take it easy at work, relax...  Because if you don't, the city will eat you alive! 

I talked to my roommate, Moutarou, yesterday as I was preparing myself some soup, and he assured me that if it was malaria I would NOT be able to cook soup; I would be in bed pleading for death.  He should know - he's survived 15 bouts of malaria!  So, I take his word for it.  Nevertheless, obviously I'll go to the doctor if I don't feel okay by tomorrow.  But remembering the last time I got sick (back in November, I think), this doesn't feel like that did - that was an all-of-a-sudden feeling of getting hit by a mack truck - the normally 3 minute walk home took like a half an hour or something.  Since this has progressed so much more gradually and there aren't any other symptoms, I'm assuming it's just fatigue.  But I have to say, I never knew fatigue could bowl you over this much. 

Anyway, at LEAST we have electricity!  Yay!  So I can have the fan on (it's gotten hot here again - Moutarou and my other roommate Kofi have both hypothesized that my achiness is due to the return of the hot season), and I can look at random crap on the internet, or work... (or look at random crap on the internet...).

Things are starting to get pretty busy.  Since my last post, I met with the Cultural Director of the Renaissance Monument (this was where all of the best jazz concerts were held during FESMAN) and her father, also a former employee of the Ministry of Culture and a retired professor.  Unfortunately, the directions I was given were not immediately clear to me (turn right at palm tree, pass the street that goes to the post office, etc), so I had to call him probably 10 times en route to ask for more specific directions.  Ultimately we both gave up and I sat on the steps of a nearby bank while his daughter Fatou came to rescue the wandering toubab.  After that embarassment was shelved away (pretty immediately, because of their instant warmth and hospitality), I visited with the two of them and explained my project in more detail.  Both father and daughter have academic backgrounds and understand all that's involved in putting a thesis together, so they were particularly eager to help.  Mr. Diop, the dad / retired professor, spoke with me at length about his experiences with the festival past and present (he was Wole Soyinka's guide for FESMAN I, and during FESTAC (Fesman II) in Lagos, he presented a scientific paper but, more importantly, hung out at FELA KUTI'S COMPOUND!!).  His daughter gave me a present of a huge packet of information from FESMAN III - all sorts of things I hadn't seen before that were just for organizers.  She said she didn't need it because she had duplicate copies, so I got to keep the whole packet!  I thanked her profusely and she reminded me that she, too, had written a thesis and remembers how difficult it was so she was happy to help.  Fatou has to be the nicest person EVER - she was super sweet.  And so was Madame Diop, whom I met briefly.  And Mr. Diop, of course.  All of them were really great and made the whole interview experience go well (I am often nervous before interviews in a way that I never am before performances - I'm not sure why). 

I mentioned in my last post that I was invited to go to the National Orchestra's rehearsal on Thursday, so I showed up at the Maison Culturel Douta Seck and listened my way to where the musicians were.  There were several outside - one of them was William, Dakar's / Senegal's best violinist and a longtime friend of my friend Bambi.  Inside a tiny room that looked sort of like a dusty old storage room in a decrepid high school band basement (but on the first floor), I found Thierno, the saxophonist I had met the other day.  Apparently this was the orchestra's rehearsal space.  I found this to be a particular shame because President Wade has just opened a new Grand Theatre funded by the Chinese, and in my personal opinion (which is in agreement with all of the orchestra musicians I spoke with) the National Orchestra, of all groups, should be based there instead of in a room that's falling apart!  These are some of the country's finest musicians, after all.  Thierno introduced me to some of them:  Vieux Keita, the balfonist / drummer; Cheikh Cisse, the guitarist, Alioune Ndiaye Taxuran, the xalam player, and Alassane Cisse, the bass player and orchestra leader.  There didn't seem to be any kind of organized rehearsal happening and Thierno explained that it was because the power was out.  With so many electric instruments - guitar, amp'd violin, keyboards, bass, - they preferred to just wait it out.  It didn't come back on the whole time I was there.  Some people used the time to practice, others to smoke and chat, and others to hang out with the toubab saxophone lady. 
Several took the opportunity to teach me some tunes - so I learned "Adjuma" by Alioune, the xalam player, and then I learned two Serer tunes by Cheikh Cisse, the guitarist - the first was "Tonkiye" ("Children") and the second was "Serer yenda bokku yaay et abba" (We Serer are all family (all of one father and one mother))".  I found the Serer melodies to be especially beautiful - a strange combination of both melancholy and joy. 
So I stayed with the orchestra musicians for quite a while, then went back home and rested a bit before going to L'Endroit in the evening.  William, the violinist, had invited me to sit in with him and his salsa band at l'Endroit.  I was excited to have a new playing invitation, and it was to be my first of two gigs that evening because the other day I had been invited by a guitarist from a different group to play with him at a club up in the Almadies.  So I got to the first club and was feeling psyched to do some playing.  I got my horn out and put it on my stand and then got up to go to the bathroom.  And just then, as I stood up, I somehow managed to graze my leg against my horn and... it toppled over.  It was one of those moments which keeps re-appearing in slow motion over and over again as if I could go back and undo it, but of course you never can...  I picked it up and inspected the damage.  At first glance, it didn't look completely totaled.  But of course, saxophones are fragile creatures and when I tried to play it, it became immediately clear that I was not going to be doing any more gigging any time soon.  I could only get 2-3 notes to come out.  Needless to say, I was crushed.  Playing is the salve that helps me stay sane while being far away from home.  I couldn't imagine going the whole rest of my time here without playing!!!   It was a very sad evening, indeed.  William was sad for me and immediately called Theirno, the saxophonist.  Thierno told me to come see him the next morning and he'd take a look at it.  He said he'd either fix it himself or else we could take it to the guy he goes to.  With a plan in place for the next morning, I decided I may as well stay and listen to the music.  It was a FABULOUS salsa band.  Really.  So, that helped lift my chin a little...  But I cancelled my second gig. (That guy was nice, too, and he gave me the number of another saxophonist I could call if I needed any help.  At least this incident is putting me in touch with more local saxophonists!)

The next morning I went to see Thierno and he took a look at my horn.  He could see what was wrong with it and was able to tweak it so I could play a few more notes, but he didn't have the tools necessary to really make much headway.  So then we cabbed over to a military camp on the other side of town, where the one sax repair guy in Dakar (or, at least, the only one anybody I know has ever mentioned) works as some sort of army officer.  He mentioned that we had come at a slightly inconvenient time, it being the Friday prayer call and everything. (I hadn't paid any attention to what time it was - I just wanted to get my horn fixed as soon as possible!) Of course I felt badly about that and insisted that he go to the mosque and we would wait until he came back.  But he insisted back, saying he could go to the mosque AFTER he fixed the horn just as easily as he could before, so I just thanked him and felt guilty.  He brought a shoebox-full of tools and set to work.  Every so often he'd have me test-drive my horn to see if it was any better.  Eventually it was tweaked back into playing condition, although it'll still need another check-up once I get back home - some notes are still a little resistant.  But I was worried I wasn't going to be able to play at all the rest of my time here, so I was excited that the officer guy was able to fix it.  I paid him a small honorarium and thanked him profusely.  Then I went home to rest a little, before going to play in the orchestra concert I thought I was going to have to miss!  So, thanks, Officer Ndieng!!

So last night was the orchestra concert - I hadn't had much of a rehearsal the day before, so I was pretty much winging it.  Nevertheless, I had a really great time.  I met some of the other musicians, most notably my other co-horn sectionist, Lamine Tall (trumpet).  He, Thierno and I were the horn section.  Our repertoire was part jazz, part traditional Senegalese-Jazz hybrid, and part salsa.  It was fun to play new music with new people, and I enjoyed the challenge of having to figure out what to play over new tunes.  And of course we horn-sectionists were awesome, thanks to Theirno and Lamine giving me cues to hits.  At Theirno's insistence I even danced a little in a mini-horn-section choreography - part salsa, part Senegalese.  The salsa part would be the hip action, the Senegalese part the arms-up-in-the-air part.  I am not even passably good at either, but I tried to be a sport.  I figure if nothing else I'd give people a good laugh with my lame toubab moves. 

All in all, a great last couple of days.  William, the violinist, invited me to a family baptism tomorrow, which feels like a sweet gesture and an honor.  So, I cancelled my appointment with Balla, previously scheduled for tomorrow, and rescheduled that for Tuesday.  Balla said he didn't mind.

So, that's all for now - more to come soon!

Happy, Busy Day

Yesterday was one of those rare days when everything seems to come together perfectly, the kind of day that reminds me why I’m here and why, despite how difficult it’s been for me to be away from home, I will really miss it here when all is said and done.  

First, I had an interview with the director of the National Orchestra.  We were supposed to meet yesterday, but after waiting for an hour and a half, I gave up and went back home.  He texted me later with his apologies and we rescheduled for today.  Anyway, he was incredibly generous with his time today and we had a great interview.  He told me all about the history of the orchestra, its mission, its repertoire, etc.  Basically, the main role of the orchestra is to safeguard traditional Senegalese music.  All of the pieces they play have been written down and are archived in a library (I haven’t seen it yet so I don’t know if the “library” is really someone’s living room or something), with repertoire from all of Senegal’s ethnic groups.  The orchestra’s instrumentation is primarily traditional instruments such as the balafon (a xylophone made with calabash resonators), kora (a harp with a large calabash resonator), tama (a small talking drum – it has strings you squeeze to change the tension and therefore the pitch of the drum), sabar (the drum of the Wolof griots), and xalam (a traditional lute made with goat skin and wood).  But the group also performs what the Senegalese call “variété,” which is kind of the equivalent of orchestral “pops” programs.  So in addition to the traditional instruments they have saxophone, flute, trumpet, bass, drums (drum set, I mean), piano, and guitar.  The orchestra is as much pan-African as it is national, because they accompany the big African music stars who come to Senegal, be they from Cameroon (Manu Dibango), Benin (Angelique Kidjo), Mali (Oumou Sangaré), etc.  When these musicians come in, they either bring recordings or written parts with them and the orchestra players either transcribe the music or read it down, and work with the guest musician to get the style / sound just right. 

Then, it just so happened that at the end of our interview one of the orchestra’s saxophonists came in, and the director introduced me to him.  He was excited to meet another saxophonist and the director invited me to sit in with him (the saxophonist) at their rehearsal on Thursday!  I might even get to play on their Friday night concert – we’ll see (or as they say here, Inshalla).  And, in even more of a coincidence, the saxophonist told me that he had already heard about me a) because there aren’t many other toubab saxophonist chicks around town, b) because they know most of the musicians I’ve played with, but also c) because of Tabou!  Remember Tabou, my friend from November / December, the guitarist – singer/songwriter who invited me to her family’s Tabaski celebration?  Well, it turns out that the saxophonist I met was her guitar / voice teacher when she was taking lessons at the Douta Seck Cultural Center!  Small world.  He told me that she’s no longer working in Mauritania and is now in Gambia.  He thinks she’ll be back in Dakar sometime in June – it’d be nice to see her again!

I walked home feeling happy that the interview had gone well and also that I have a new playing opportunity to look forward to.  I got home with just enough time to shower (the heat’s come back, which means that a 15 minute walk outside merits a good, cold shower) before I was to meet up with my friend Balla, the baay faal I told you about a while back (he’s the one who, in a photo I posted back in Nov/ Dec, looks slightly Rasta with the grey dreads).  I met him at the Gouye Gi, the giant baobab from which my neighborhood gets its name.  (Gouye Gi is just “baobab” in Wolof.)  At first I had a moment of panic when I realized we had had a slight misunderstanding:  I thought we were planning on going out to lunch somewhere so I asked him where he wanted to go.  And he looked at me a little confused and said, “You haven’t prepared something?”  And I realized that he thought I was having him over for lunch at my place and that I had cooked something for him!!!  MERDE!  When he realized that I had misunderstood he said it was fine if we went to a restaurant instead, but I felt badly and wanted to be a good hostess.  So, I bought a few things on the way home and installed him on the couch with some fresh orange slices and some juice, and I went into the kitchen to frantically prepare something edible. 

Given the intimidating talent of Senegalese hostesses, I didn’t even bother trying to make a local dish.  No way.  Fortunately, Matt and I have in our repertoire a very easy Moosewood recipe, “Caribbean Black Beans.”  It’s quite easy and takes no time at all.  So I cooked some rice and while that was going I cut a bunch of onions which of course made me cry but I got over it, then some garlic.  I let that sauté for a while, then drained two cans of beans – normally you use just black beans but I had one black and one red, so I decided, what the hell?  It wouldn’t have been enough beans otherwise, if I just used one or the other.  So I drained those and dumped those in, and then added the special ingredient:  orange juice.  Unfortunately the other special ingredients are ginger, which I could not find, and some spices which we didn’t have.  So I improvised with a little Maggi, a kind of all-purpose liquid seasoning people use here – a little soy-saucy, a little Worcestershire-saucy, plus some salt and pepper.  I test-tasted the sauce:  not bad at all!  So, in the end I didn’t end up having to leave Balla alone for too long – maybe 20 minutes.  And while stuff was simmering I stuck my head in to visit every now and then.  It was a little tricky going back and forth into and out of the kitchen, though, because that’s where Saly, the housekeeper, sits to do the ironing.  So she had to keep getting up to let me through, but she didn’t mind.  After lunch I made ataya, traditional Senegalese tea, which I’ve gotten pretty good at making, if I do say so myself.  Saly had some too and she told me it tasted Senegalese-enough to her.  Yay!  I’ll be sure to make some for people when I get home…

So, Balla and I had a great visit as always and he told me about some recent projects (a festival celebrating Bob Marley’s birthday) and some upcoming ones (he’s trying to convert an old water reservoir that’s been defunct for half a century into a cultural center with a nice stage, classrooms, exhibition space, etc).  One of Balla’s missions is the decentralization of cultural events in Senegal - that is to say, spreading the events further afield than Dakar.  He also listened to a recording of my band, Yid Vicious, and we discussed the possibility of YV collaborating with him on some performances / projects in Rufisque and other outlying areas in the future.  So if we get the opportunity to come over, we all have a welcome spot at Balla’s place!  His house is pretty much like an artist’s colony – there are always touring musicians and other artists staying at his place while they’re in town.  So, we’ll see! 

So, that was my day.  Tomorrow I have another interview, this one with a retired professor.  Thursday I have my rehearsal with the National Orchestra, and possibly an interview with one of the singers in Orchestra Baobab either Thursday or Friday.  Sunday I plan to go to Balla’s in Rufisque to help him with some paperwork he needs to put together to try to get a visa to go to Holland.  His wife is Dutch, and they got married in Senegal.  Therefore, their marriage is not official in Holland, unfortunately.  So far his attempts to get a visa to go there have failed, and because she has a job she can’t leave, it means that they see each other less than if he could be free to visit her instead of her always having to visit him.  I sympathized with his plight, knowing how much it sucks to be separated from your spouse, so I told him I’d be happy to help him with some paperwork – for example, he has to show them a CV to prove that he’s not a schlemp who will suck up all of their resources, or something to that effect.  Unfortunately, his appearance as a baay fall, with his patchwork clothes and dreadlocks, have been received negatively by the visa employees on past attempts; he said they wouldn’t even look at most of his paperwork – they would just look him up and down and then stamp a big “NOPE” on his file (well, maybe not “Nope” exactly but to that effect).  So, hopefully with a spruced up CV and some letters from people in high places here in Dakar, he’ll be able to convince them he has a right to see his wife in Holland, for God’s sake.  I’m keeping my fingers crossed for him.

Interviews

Things have been getting busier recently, which is good!  Over the past few weeks I've gotten in touch with several important contacts who in turn have put me in touch with many others, and so the interviews are getting into full swing!  As always, it all comes down to who you know.  Fortunately, I know my Wolof teacher, Moutarou, and he knows lots of people!  So, through him I've been able to speak with the Minister of Culture's assistant, who gave me contact information for many of the former festival organizers.  Also via Moutarou, I've gotten in touch with Rudy Gomis of Orchestra Baobab and plan to talk with him later this week.  Thanks to Modou (the saxophonist from my post a few months ago), I have an upcoming interview with Cheikh Tidiane Tall, one of the guitarists from Xalam (one of Senegal's most popular music groups from the late '60s-early '70s, along with Orchestra Baobab). 

Also thanks to the assistant to the Minister of Culture, I was also able to set up an interview with one of Senegal's most famous kora-griot families, the Cissokos.   [Griots are familes of musicians / historians / geneologists who in Manding culture play the kora (in Wolof culture, the griots play the sabar drum - Senegal has both Wolof and Manding ethnic groups).  They traditionally sing praises for important people or events, but also sing stories from the past.  The Cissoko's carry the whole history of the Malian empire from the 14th century all inside their heads, and the geneology of their family for about as far back.] 

Mbaye Cissoko, the group's manager, who for a time was a car  mechanic and not a kora player (!) and therefore somewhat of a "black sheep" in the family, introduced me to the rest of the family, which is too big to keep straight...  Even though Mbaye never went pro with the kora, he still knows the instrument and all of the history intimately, having grown up with both.  When he turned on a video of his brothers playing at a festival, he could tell me which brother was soloing when just by ear, without having to look at the screen.  He said he could recognize the different "voices" of their koras.  He also told me a story about his father, who played at Fesman I and II (the second was accronymed Festac in English - World Festival of Black Arts and Cultures, and was in Lagos, Nigeria in 1977).  He was performing at Fesman II and said that he felt through his kora, while playing, that his mother had just died.  He said it felt like his mother was speaking to him through the kora.  When he got back home he found that his mother had, indeed, just passed away.

Noumoucounda has recently become the new star of the family because he performed at the Fesman III opening ceremonies - he played a solo, just himself with his kora in the middle of a gigantic stadium and in front of thousands of people.  He is also well known for having integrated traditional kora music with hip hop, and has worked with some of Senegal's biggest rappers such as Awadi and Carlou D.  He feels that like everything else, the kora must evolve with the times and reach out to younger generations, who listen to hip hop and mbalax but not much traditional music.  He was the most gregarious of the three I met, and he had a terrific, infectious laugh.  He also explained something about the kora as a mystical instrument:  the number three is significant to the griots because the kora is made of three materials:  calabash, wood, and goat skin.  The three materials are, individually, dead by the time they are turned into an instrument - the calabash has been separated from its roots and stem, the wood has been separated from the roots and trunk, and the skin no longer covers a living animal.  But once they are put together into a kora and someone plays it, then all three materials come back to life again. 

Another brother (or cousin?  the deliniations here are never very clear to me) named Ousmane was also very friendly, and fortunately for my video camera, he had a really loud voice.  With a family as large as the Cissoko's, there is no such thing as silence.  There are constantly kids running about screaming, laughing, or crying, there are the sounds of women cooking or cleaning or chatting or laughing, etc.  The family was incredibly warm and welcoming and showed me the famous Senegalese "teranga" (hospitality) by inviting me to eat cebujen ("cheb-oo-jen") (fish and rice, the famous traditional Senegalese dish) with them.  As with Papis's family, everyone sits on the ground and is in charge of a particular corner of the giant platter.  In this group, we ate with spoons, so it wasn't so messy.  As usual, I tried my best to fulfil my duties as guest-pig, but it's pretty much impossible (for me, at least) to eat until they are completely satisfied.  I kept hearing the same "il faut BIEN manger," (you must eat WELL!) every time I showed signs of fatigue.  I pointed to my stomach and claimed that there just wasn't any more space in there, pointing out that it was relatively small - then the skinny guy next to me totally shot down that argument by pointing to his own flat stomach and insisting that it didn't make a difference for him and therefore I must still have more room.  Well, I did my best and chowed and chowed until I was finally able to get away with stopping.  It was really good cebujen - when it's good, the fish is super fresh and seasoned really deliciously, and there are lots of veggies like cabbage (my favorite!), carrots, squash, manioc (kind of like potato), etc.  Delicious, but very filling.  I didn't eat much for dinner later...  Anyway, the interview with the family went well and they were very gracious with their time.  So, thanks, Cissoko's!

Just as I was writing all of this I got an email from Fou Malade, another well-known rapper here (his stage name means "Crazy Sick"), inviting me to call him to set up an interview.  Yay!  Progress.  And, thanks to Thomas (my former neighbor) for putting me in touch with FM. 

Yes, I'm alive.

Sorry I haven't been blogging more regularly.  I don't really have a good excuse, other than that I just haven't really felt particularly inspired to write anything.  But, tonight I feel inspired, so tonight I'll write!

I just got back from playing with my Milim homies at l'Endroit - the place near where I used to live (and still relatively close to where I live now).  I rehearsed with them Wednesday, then played with them Thursday night at Janeer (a different club, close to the university) and then again tonight.  Georges, a pianist from Martinique by way of Paris, is sitting in with us while he's in town (for 2 months or so), and he really adds some spunk to the group.  All of us play better when he sits in!  As for me, I'm feeling happy because I played well tonight (it's not always easy for me to say that).  When things go right, I feel completely, 100% me, and completely, 100% free.  That's how I felt tonight!  So, thanks, Milim.  And also, it just feels nice having a second music family here.  I will miss all of my Senegalese music buddies when I leave...