Photos

For pictures, go here.

Today was a slow day. I woke up early and ate breakfast. My host father has an elder brother who is a pastor in Ghana and lived in the U.S. for seven years during the 1970s. Sometimes he talks like the country hasn't changed since he was there. But that's ok. I didn't mind the '70s. In fact, I should have been born then. I was able to practice a lot, although it's been humid, which makes me lethargic. I got scolded today for not going into town, even though my plans fell through. Ah well, summer can't last forever.

I crave familiar things, the people I love, regular schedules, fresh milk, pancakes.

Details

Something I keep forgetting to mention: the lights go out every 48 hours for 12 hours at a time because there is not enough power to go around the country. The dam on Lake Volta is just not cutting it.

Brainy and Footsy?

I have been finding more and more music and musicians – lots of highlife, old and new, though still have yet to take in any self-advertised “jazz,” per se, though have found some venues. I sat in Sunday night with a band at the Ghanaian Village restaurant – a wonderful band with five percussionists, guitar, alto and tenor sax, and a great male singer. They were very welcoming. They told me, “We could play 'Fly Me To the Moon,' but we will play it the African way,” which means in 6/8 instead of 4/4, so they maintain constant tension between the subdivided three and the larger two in which the melody stretches out polyrhythmically. That was a challenge. They played everything: John Lennon's “Imagine,” some Santana repertoire, and old highlife numbers – which they thought I wouldn't be able to play, but were actually my favorite. Something about that rhythm grabs you and won't let you go. I was like, “I shouldn't be able to dance to this, but somehow I am.”

The days have been slow. There has been a constant tease of going to a rehearsal with Parisian singer-artiste Bebe in Achimota. We actually made it out to her house one day, but the rehearsal had been canceled. This band has a very interesting repertoire, too, from what I can tell: a lot of Stevie Wonder and '70s soul – horn music! - Plus Bebe's own compositions. She and her Ghanaian band are preparing for a European tour. It will be interesting to hear them play.

I have now been up to the University of Ghana at Legon and visited a few music professors. It's a nice area, a few kilometers outside Accra, under some really nice big trees, where everybody goes outside to practice and teach. Hopefully I will be able to spend some more time up there once they start classes.

Last night I went down to the Equator bar to check out the band – a loud, rock-highlife group with young, rogue-like singer and eccentric keyboardist. It turns out the keyboardist is working on a thesis on highlife music at Legon. The complaint I am hearing from a lot of people is that the old highlife music is starting to die out in the face of hip-life, and people are becoming more well-versed in production and electronic manipulation than they are in playing live acoustic music. Nobody is learning to play horns anymore, they say, which are key in highlife music. This sounds like a very familiar problem to me, because even in the States, it starts to seem like the only way to make a living in music is to submit oneself to formatting by the public image industry. People still play live music in the States; the only question is whether there is anyone there to listen. At least, in Ghana, people are craving live music – the audience is there, ready and waiting.

My host family is amazing. I have a home here. I have two host-brothers, who are 18 and 19, and are good company. There are other family members moving in and out and visiting periodically, which makes for a lively environment. My host-mother just lost an uncle, so she and her husband have been recently occupied with funeral preparations.

I started using Dr. Seuss's Oh, the Places You'll Go! as devotional material as I was preparing to leave. It has become a kind of traveling song-mantra-thing for me now. I think it makes good advice to any Watson Fellow, or any sojourner, for that matter. To share:

Congratulations!

Today is your day.

You're off to Great Places!

You're off and away!

You have brains in your head.

You have feet in your shoes.

You can steer yourself

any direction you choose.

You're on your own. And you know what you know.

And YOU are the guy who'll decide where to go.

You'll look up and down streets. Look 'em over with care.

About some you will say, “I don't choose to go there.”

With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet,

you're too smart to go down any not-so-good street.

And you may not find any

you'll want to go down.

In that case, of course,

you'll head strait out of town.

It's opener there

in the wide open air.

Out there things can happen

and frequently do

to people as brainy

and footsy as you.

And when things start to happen,

don't worry. Don't stew.

Just go right along.

You'll start happening too...

First impressions and aftermath

Only after having been here for almost a week are things starting to look a little bit familiar. The arrival was chaotic. Our flight into Accra was delayed by about an hour and a half from Amsterdam; once on the ground, I waited through a crowded customs line only to be told that my passport was going to be held because I hadn't listed the address where I would be staying. I figured out how to call my hosts' cell phone as I searched through a long, topsy-turvy pile of baggage. So I got my passport back. But still. Walking out of the airport, I was faced with what I can only describe as a huge mob of shouting, celebrating Ghanaians, held at bay by police barriers and armed police. Feeling more than a little exposed, I walked along the line of the crowd, sensing the improbability of seeing my name on one of those little white signs. But there it was. On two signs, no less, and with smiling faces to match.

Even through my travel-weariness, I soon realize that I am very, very privileged to be able to stay in a beautiful home with a kind family where I can be safe and supported. Honestly, this is not exactly how I imagined the project starting out - so safe and secure - but who can argue with this when my chiefest, deepest desire is often to be safe and accepted. A good starting point, I tell myself, but then I still long to stretch out, to go out on the limb I have promised myself.

I spent a few days recovering from jet lag and getting used to malaria pills and humidity. I changed my dollars and few remaining euros into New Ghana Cedis (they've very recently been re-denominated from Old Ghana Cedis); I also bought a cheap cell phone and SIM card - for emergencies and sniping friends back home.

Yesterday I went to a community festival in the town of Ada, about an hour and a half outside of Accra, with a drummer friend who offered to show me around. This was my first look at non-city Ghanaian life. We arrived at about 10 a.m. and the narrow street was already clogged with street vendors and onlookers. We joined one of the brass bands as it marched down the street, singing and waving our hands at the chief held up in the air. The huge colored umbrellas that were carried right behind the chief reminded me distinctly of New Orleans. I was tired a lot of the time, though, so had to rest periodically.

Today we went to church in Accra, which amounted to organ plus a great choir and African percussion. I met some musicians at the club at the hotel down the road last night, and I might go sit in with them later on. I've heard of a few jazz clubs around town, but as far as when and where I usually start and end with word of mouth. It is hard to say where things will go from here. I am anxious to keep on moving. Sometimes 5 months seems like forever, but every once in a while it seems like it will never be long enough!

No luck uploading images this time - may have to wait for a faster connection.

Extended Summer

People tell me that summer is more than half over. They say this with the sadness that comes from endings, and look ahead to school or work and the close of lazy vacation days. I tell them that I understand something of endings, too, these days. My summer has been glorious, though it seems like it is ending too soon.

The truth, I realize, is that, while many will stay here and summer will end and the normal cycle of life will continue into the fall - I am moving into a different phase: a phase of extended summer, in which the long adventure and the accompanying search will continue, and postcards home will list the highlights: "Wish you were here. Many miles to go." And then I will go on living, strangely enough, in this place where summer extends long into the fall.

So I will pack, yet again. I have gotten used to living out of a suitcase, so this step does not seem quite so strange. I have gotten accustomed to carrying only what I need; either that or the definition of "what I need" continues to shrink as the days go by.

Frequently Asked Questions

What are you doing next year?
Taking a year to travel and play music as a Thomas J. Watson Fellow.

Huh?
I will study the interaction of native African, contemporary popular, and American jazz music in modern African society. I will spend my Watson year traveling to Ghana, Senegal, Benin, Guinea, and South Africa to explore the following questions: What happens when an African-American form, jazz, comes back into one of its constituent parts, African society? How do African cultures combine popular and jazz music with their own native music and traditions? What are the various ways in which music is connected with culture, history, tradition, and memory? This will entail hearing lots of different kinds of music, urban and rural, popular and traditional - and a lot of trombone playing, hanging out with musicians, and recording music and interviews.

Why those countries?
West Africa is a region where many of the people who became American slaves were captured, so the spiritual and musical roots of the area have an interesting, dual relationship with Western society. And these days, cities across West Africa rock hard. I am especially excited to visit Accra, Ghana and Dakar, Senegal. My travels to Benin will also allow me to pursue some research in vodu and vodu music.
South Africa is a slightly different endeavor. Jazz was a kind of freedom music for the oppressed people under the apartheid regime, and South Africans have created their own hybrid form of jazz since liberation: another way in which jazz continues to speak for and through people on journeys of hardship. I will be basing my project around Cape Town, where South African jazz flourishes.
West Africa and South Africa have different relationships with Western music, but in both, American popular/jazz music has become a component in forming their identity as modern nations.

What do you hope to get out of your Fellowship year?
A sense of self-reliance and travel-savviness.
Lasting musical influences.
A reformatted brain.

When do you leave?
July 31.

How long will you be gone?
A year.

Will you miss us?
Yes.