Tabaski

Hello! It's been a few weeks since I posted, so this will be a little longer than normal.

I've been busy playing and listening to music, mostly in the neighborhoods of Djelibougou (home to a disproportionate number of Bamako's musicians) and Hippodrome, site of most of Bamako's nightclubs. Due to the sudden, unexpected death of their elder brother, both of my n'goni teachers (Simbo and Kélémonson Diabaté) have returned to Kita to be with their extended family.  As such, I haven't had much chance to play n'goni, and have been concentrating on the kora.  Given that the kora and n'goni repertoires (at least, of the Mandé/griot variety) are largely similar, I've really been learning many of the same songs I would have on the n'goni.  

One of my goals here in Mali is to immerse myself in the standard repertoire of griot songs, of which there seem to be (by my completely unofficial and unscientific guesstimate) around 40 or so.  These songs all have relatively long and complex histories and associations, both historical and ideological, and are constantly reworked, oftentimes with new lyrics, to create new songs.  Most Malian musicians are more than willing to change the (traditional) title and attribute the 'new' song to themselves on their CDs which means, practically, that the only way to identify them is to know the traditional songs already.  Given that each musician puts their own spin on the song to make it their own, and also that there are many different "accompaniment" patterns and solo melodies associated with each song, I've always found it quite difficult to differentiate traditional songs unless someone names them for me.  In any event, I now have samples of many (possibly even most?) of these core griot songs, and I'll be listening to them intensively over the following months to try to drill them into my head.  We'll see if that works!

Last week, I stopped by Mali's largest source of non-pirated CDs, Mali K7, and picked up an even 50 new ones.  They have a varied selection, from the Cuban-inspired bands of the '70s and '80s to traditional singers (Kouyate Sory Kandia, Ma Kouyate, Khaira Arby) to newer acts like Magic System, local mega-stars like Sékouba Bambino and Abdoulaye Diabaté, as well as the obligatory street-level rap and reggae artists.  Guaranteed good listening for the next few months!

Pictured: Loot

To add to the general madness of Bamako, two weeks ago was the festival/feast of 'Eid al-Adha, known locally as Tabaski.  Tabaski commemorates the willingness of Abraham to sacrifice his son to his God, and his joy at being allowed at the last minute to substitute a sheep instead, a story common to all three of the People of the Book (Christians, Muslims, and Jews).  What this means in effect in Mali is a massive influx of sheep into the capital city, where every family does its level best to buy at least one, and occasionally several.  Sheep markets suddenly sprang up everywhere alongside the main roads, and their bleating became the common aural backdrop of every day (and night).  Along the roads, sheep were herded by old men and young children, dragged by their halters, trussed up on top of public transport busses, pulled by their horns, smacked ineffectually with sticks, and constantly yelled at.  My favorite mode of sheep transport was by moped.  I managed to get a photo of the sheep below which, contrary to my expectations, turned out to be alive and attempted to bite its captor as my taxi passed at break-neck speed).  

A sheep in every pot

Little did I know that my kora teacher, Toumani, would also be bringing his back in similar fashion!

Toumani with his Tabaski sheep

I passed the actually day of Tabaski with my host family, visiting and receiving visitors and numerous phone calls, and eating mutton with every meal.

I'll try to update in the next few days with a review of a Boubacar Traoré concert I saw last Saturday, as well as some more pictures of Bamako street-life.  Until then, here's a picture of two of my teachers listening to field recordings of themselves made not ten minutes before.  How cool is digital recording?

Simbo Diabaté and Toumani Kouyaté

Some Music from the Heart of Bamako

Greetings once more from sunny Bamako.  This last week has been a complete musical immersion for me; I've been playing/learning at least 6 hours a day during the week.  It's lots of fun, but leaves me without a lot of energy to update the blog.  By way of an apology, and as promised, here's a field recording of my kora teacher, Toumani Kouyaté, playing "Salimu," a traditional Malian song about the dangers of alcohol.

Toumani Kouyate Salimu by waraden

(I think I've figured out how to get this audio player to work; if you're having trouble, please drop me a line @ waraden.diabate [at] gmail.com.)

One of my primary n'goni teachers, Kélémonson Diabaté, has been in Guinea for the last week for a recording session with one of Mali's more famous divas, Amy Koita.  Luckily, his half-brother, Simbo, is around to pick up the slack!  I'll post a picture of him next week.  The brothers' father is a famous musician in his own right; his name is Cemogo (pronounced "Chay-mo-go") Diabaté, and he's been a musical hub in Kita for decades, having reached the ripe old age of 96 or 97, depending on who's telling the story.  I had the chance to meet him in 2006 when I was in Kita when I learned, to my surprise, that he was the one who had made my n'goni!  He is also usually credited by Kita n'goni players as the man who first added extra strings to the traditional 4-stringed n'goni.  It is now common to see 7- or 8-stringed n'gonis among professional griots.  Interestingly, I've learned that both Simbo and my first n'goni teacher, Cheick Hamala Diabaté, tune their 8-stringed n'gonis identically: I strongly suspect that this is because both trace their n'goni "lineage" back to Cemogo.

One of the best parts about being in the midst of the professional griot/musician class is seeing the ways in which "traditional" music is adapting itself.  The n'goni, for example, is an instrument normally classified as "traditional" which has, in fact, undergone a radical physical alteration within living memory.  The kora has undergone a shift of its own through the playing of Toumani Diabaté.  His unique style, which burst onto both the Malian and world stage with his debut album, Kaira, instantly became the benchmark by which all other Malian kora players were judged.  Many of his interpretations of traditional tunes ("Alla L'A Ke," for example) have in turn become standards, and been incorporated into the tradition.  My kora teacher, Toumani Kouyaté, laughingly explained today that most young kora players "don't know the original Lamban; they can only play Toumani Diabaté's version!"  It's fast becoming evident to me that Malian musical "tradition" is not only flexible but even welcomes innovation.  No doubt this is less than revelatory for anyone who has studied other cultures or traditional musics, but I was still surprised.

In final news, I stopped by the Centre Culturel Français today to attend a talk at an "International Colloquium on the Sources of African Music" that's taking place there this week.  I heard a fascinating report on the music of Burkina Faso by Florent Mazzoleni.  As he pointed out, Burkinabé music is basically unknown outside of the country, so it was a treat to hear some.  I'll write something about the conference next week.

The highlight of this week, aside from the hours of music, was definitely watching a man remove not one, not two, but four sheep in gunny sacks from the trunk of a taxi.  And on that note, see you next week!