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.
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