Endless Rounds of Tea

Greetings once more from the States.  The blog's been down for a bit while I readjusted to life in America, but I'm back now, and the plan is to post at least once a week from now on, and with more varied content.  I feel I've arrived at a level of understanding of Malian music such that I can explain some of its basic mechanics and aesthetic, so there will be some analysis posts, as well as CD and concert reviews.  On that note, stay tuned for a review later this week of one of my favorite Malian albums, Amadou & Mariam's "Sou ni Tilé."  In the meantime, enjoy the video below of my kora teacher, Toumani Kouyaté, recorded at his house in Bamako.

Funteni Wati

It's March in Mali, and things are heating up.  Daytime temperatures are routinely in the 90's, and even at night rarely dip into the 60's.  Up North, French, Chadian, and Malian troops are slowly grinding down the terrorists, who have holed up in the caves and gullies of the mountainous Adrar des Ifoghas, north of Kidal.  The Chadian government claims to have killed two of the major terrorist leaders, Mokhtar belMokhtar and Abou Zeid, while rumors are rife that Iyad ag-Ghali, the last of the triumvirate, was killed somewhere between Timbuktu and Gao.  Certainly, it's been a bad month for the terrorists.  

Here in Bamako, outward signs of the troubles in the North are few.  Security at the embassies has been beefed up, and the French Cultural Center, one of the major cultural hubs of Bamako, is closed "for renovations."  We hear the planes though, at all hours of the day and night.  The roar of French jets, the dull throbbing of C130's and other big transport planes, and the occasional Air France or Air Maroc flight are part of the audial background.  Other than that, it's back to business as usual in Bamako, though with nothing near the frenetic energy of last year.  With the loss of aid money and tourism, Mali is just a lot slower these days, in the streets, in the clubs, in the markets.  Still, with any luck the worst is over, and elections can take place in July as interim President Traoré has indicated.  With all the foreign troops here, another coup d'état would be tricky to pull off, though even last year's seemed impossible right up until it happened.  If the elections come off without any major problems, the aid money will begin to flow again, and everyone will breathe a little easier.

On the musical front, I've been delving into some of the more obscure pockets of Mandé music, learning songs which have rarely, or never, appeared on CD or LP.  Many of these songs come from my kora master, Toumani Kouyaté, though I've also gotten some from the archives of Mali's national radio station, l'Office de Radiodiffusion et Télédiffusion du Mali (ORTM).  My favorite find so far has been the unreleased recordings of Djelimory "N'fa" Diabaté, one of the greatest kora players of the previous generation.  Pretty much his only recording which is findable in the West is the classic "Cordes Anciennes," which also feature Sidiki Diabaté and Batourou Sékou Kouyaté, the other two master kora players of that generation of Malian musicians.  However, Djelimory also did at least one recording session at ORTM, as far as I can tell in the 70's or 80's, and some of his tracks are gorgeous, particularly "Duga," "Macky," and "Guede."  His playing is very reminiscent of Batourou Sékou Kouyaté, though slightly more florid.    

So far I've personally recorded 53 songs which I would consider part of the Mandé canon.  Many of these are standards (i.e. "Kaira," "Lamban," "Mali Sadjo"), but some are less popular ("Amadou Bamba," "Gansana") and some I've never run across on any recording, like "Sama Donna Nyo-tula" ("The elephant has entered the millet field," which is an awesome title).  All of these songs are constantly being recycled, reworked, revitalized and played again on stage and on CDs.  It's been one of my great pleasures, as I enter more and more deeply into Mandé music, to hear variations on the same songs by many different musicians, not just from kora players but n'goni, balafon, and guitar players, not to mention singers, who have the dual creative possibilities of changing/adding to both the text and the sung melody.  When you add together half a dozen professional musicians, all of whom are working extra hard ("ka djija" in Bambara, a word I hear a dozen times a day as an apprentice musician) to put their special touch upon these songs, it's easy to understand why a canon of maybe 100 songs, as best I can tell, can be perpetually renewed without growing stale.  

This is a very different musical paradigm than the American traditional music I've played which, although possessing some sort of canon of songs, is and as far as I can tell, was much more open to the creation of new songs and less "tight" organizationally than the Bamako music scene, where everyone knows everyone.  "Traditional" Malian music is in a constant state of flux, with new instruments (guitar, keyboard, kamelen n'goni, Autotune) being added all the time, and new variations upon the old griot instruments constantly surfacing, like the additional strings of the Kita-style djeli-n'goni, the increasingly popular bass n'goni, or using two balafons to get all the notes of the chromatic scale.  

The musical scene in Bamako, the only place where a Malian musician can hope to make a decent living, can be incestuous.  The inevitable steam-roller of globalization/capitalism/modernism/whatever you want to call it is in the progress of mashing lots of the less virile strains of Malian music, but the flip side is that there's a lot of cross-pollination happening in Malian music right now.  To site just a few examples, there's a huge craze for Senefo-style balafon now in the Bamako street parties called sumus, despite the fact that the music played there is usually of Mandé, i.e. non-Senefo, origin.  The two musics have little to do with one another, but the Senefo stuff makes everyone dance, so that's being incorporated into the mix.  I've also run across several n'goni players who can play multiple styles of n'goni, including Peul, Bambara, and Mandé, as well as modern, Bassekou Kouyaté-style electric shredding.  Of these, I consider Barou Kouyaté, formerly of Bassekou Kouyaté's group N'goni Ba, to be the supreme example, though there's certainly others, notably Kandiafa, reggae superstar Tiken Jah Fakoly's n'goni player.  The facility, dynamism, and imagination of this up-and-coming generation of n'goni players is one of the things that gives me hope for Malian music in the 21st century; with players this good, the world will come knocking.  

All of which is to say, as I've mentioned previously, that traditional Malian music is by no means static and, at least in terms of technical ability, Malian musicians are actually improving.  Heady stuff.

As always, comments, questions and the like can be directed to waraden.diabate [at] gmail.com.  Have a nice weekend!

Vive la France!

Such seems to be the public sentiment here in Bamako.  French flags flutter from moped handlebars, and are draped across the fronts of verandas and the backs of cars and trucks.  France now has 1,400 troops on the ground, and the first 100 non-Malian African troops (out of a projected 3,300) arrived yesterday.  It seems the latent threat of neocolonialism is less pressing than the very real threat of a terrorist takeover of the country.  In any event, but official and public sentiment here is very much pro-French.

I'm not going to attempt to recap the situation in Mali; if you're interested, the English-language website of France 24 is good for in-depth reporting, and the BBC for accurate summaries of the latest news.  Bamako is rife with rumors of suicide-bombers and terrorist sleeper-cells, but that's nothing new, and none of the major international media have picked up on anything.  So, either everyone's being hysterical, or the authorities are hushing things up, or the news hasn't made it out of the country yet, or a combination of all those things.  There's lots of police checkpoints now, though I haven't been hassled.

Thanks to all those who sent letters of concern or encouragement.  I feel safe in Bamako, and have no plans to leave in the immediate future, either for another city or region within Mali, or for elsewhere in the world.  My studies of traditional Malian music continue apace, to the extent that I've recorded myself playing a traditional song, Apollo, on the kora.  My timing and tone could definitely use some work, but that's what practice is for, and I'm happy with the ornaments and solos I've come up with on my own.  Essentially, my teacher taught me the basics of this song (its chord progression and basic melody) and I came up with all the rest.  I've still got a ways to go, but I'm starting to get a pretty good feel for the technical side of being a kora player.  I'll be curious to see what you all think...



Other than that, not much to report.  I'm doing well, and plan to be back in the States in May.  Questions, concerns, greetings, and gossip can all be sent to me at waraden.diabate@gmail.com.  Have a nice weekend!

La Saison des Fêtes

Wandering outside early this morning, I was once more the only person in a t-shirt in a crowd of Malians in parkas, sweaters, and overcoats.  The temperature drops into the low 60's F this time of year, which is polar to Malian sensibilities.  I remember being in a village once in January, and awaking to find my host dressed in a full-length green felted wool overcoat, military style with a double row of brass buttons and epaulets.  Nothing like material culture to bring home the realities of globalization.  He really liked the jacket, though; not only was it warm, but he'd also found 20 euros in an inner pocket, which confirmed it for all time as his lucky jacket.  

I've received several emails expressing concern about the political situation here in Mali, so I thought I'd say (write) a few words about that.  This latest intrusion of the military into civilian politics was greeted with indifference among the Malians with whom I've spoken (admittedly, not a statistically rigorous sample size).  Cheick Modibo Diarra (hereafter CMD) did an equally poor job managing public opinion and his relations with the other 2 members of Mali's ruling triumvirate, interim President Dioncounda Traoré and Capt. Amadou Haya Sanogo.  Rumors were rife of problems between the 3, and CMD gained a reputation as spendthrift after Malian journalists reported that he and his revenue stayed at the Ritz Carlton in NYC when he spoke at the UN.  This was particularly corrosive, as it added to the preferred narrative of the career politician class, i.e. that CMD was completely out of touch with the realities of life for the average Malian.  From the beginning, CMD has universally been known in the Malian press as "space man" and "interplanetary navigator."  Even those who found the rumors ridiculous realized their power; The Prince would probably be a boring read for most Malians, who grow up with the firm belief that your reputation is based partially on your actions, but mostly on whatever people say about you.  Malians are nothing if not political realists, and CMD was, in the general view, ineffective.  Even if the rumors weren't true, in the grand scheme of things, many Malians believed them, and that effectively sapped his popular support base, as evidenced by the complete lack of rallies, demonstrations or boycotts, even by nominally opposition political parties.  The interim president appointed a new prime minister within 24 hours, and that was that.

So much for the latest political turmoil.  Bamako continues as before, grinding away slowly, the cold weather and lack of money slowing everything down.  Everyone is gearing up for "le 31," New Year's Eve, a major Malian holiday (or at least a major Bamako one).  Chicken, pigeon, and Guinea hen prices are already on the rise, and the neighborhood streets resound with the whistles, screeches and sudden explosions of fireworks as children clear out last year's stock before rearming later this month.  It has certainly added a certain piquancy to the daily aural background of children's laughter, the hawking of ambulatory street-merchants, passing scooters, and endless chatter at my teacher's compound.  No doubt in another 2 weeks the sight of a dignified Malian man of 40 years old visibly flinching when a pétard goes off 3 feet behind him, then turning and haranguing the group of wildly laughing children will grow old, but it hasn't yet.  Respecting personal dignity is incredibly important in Malian social relations, and it's always interesting to see who can get away with what.  Foreigners, children and crazy people have a lot more leeway than typical Malians.  Still, as in any culture, people are always testing the limits of social permissibility, and much time is spent over tea discussing just who has offended whom during the last week.  

On a less theoretical note, I've been playing kora as frequently and quickly as possible (the latter aided by large quantities of Malian tea), and my fingers are definitely getting faster and stronger.  I've posted some pictures of my new kora below.  It's not perfect, but it sounds better than it looks, and it plays well.  If any of you need a professional-level kora, let me know; I know a guy.  

See you next week.  

The master checking his handiwork

  

My kora is on the right, Toumani's is on the left

Pictured with optional carrying strap

Hand-carved posts and extra-thick rawhide tuning rings

The Cool Season

Greetings from Bamako.  The weather's getting cooler here, people are settling in for the dry cool season, and the wind blows all night long, sometimes.  Good kora-playing weather!

I'm settled back into my old schedule of study with my kora master, Toumani Kouyaté.  In my absence, he's made me a custom kora similar to his own.  An extra-thick gourd and cow-hide, well-fitted tuning rings, geni wood (the preferred of all Malian kora makers) and super-strong American nylon strings from an anglers' supply store, courtesy of Mr. Chapman Ballard (thanks, Bootie!)… I'm really happy to have a professional-quality instrument.  I'm not sure I'm a good enough kora player to merit it yet, but I'll grow into it, and I'm unfortunately way too used to nice instruments by this point in my musical career.  I'll post a picture when I get the chance.  

I've been studying for two days with Toumani, then resting for one.  This schedule seems to be working well; I'm not getting burnt out, despite the intense amount of playing.  In another week or two I'm going to start diversifying, adding in some n'goni lessons and jamming more on the banjo.  For the moment, though, my technical abilities are coming along as quickly as I'd hoped. 

Sadly, the general situation in which Mali finds itself is considerably less rosy than my specific one.  Public confidence in the government is at a low.  Today's the second day of a general transit strike protesting increasing cost of living expenses.  The police have also been particularly bad of late: I've been stopped much more often in taxis during the last two weeks than on the previous trip.  Lots of political infighting: bulletins and flyers posted everywhere downtown, and nothing in the news but posturing amongst the various political parties, rebel and terrorist factions, not to mention the Malian military…  The musical situation is also pretty grim since the departure of les blancs: some of the clubs have kept their doors open, but a lot of the club-goers are gone and don't seem like they're coming back anytime soon.  On the other hand, I was happy to hear the familiar sound of marriage corteges last Sunday; marriages, street parties, and baby naming ceremonies are at least keeping some musicians from starving.  

All in all, Mali's as fascinating as I remembered, as poignant, ridiculous and real as it was the last time I was here.  As always, waraden.diabate@gmail.com's the way to reach me.

Round Two

Hello, faithful readers and new ones!  I'm starting up this blog once more in preparation for my next trip to Mali.  I'll be leaving tomorrow for another six-month stint of intensive, mostly one-on-one instruction in traditional Mandé music in Bamako, Mali's capital.  I'm better prepared this time around, I think: my car is finally in-country and through customs, so theoretically I should be able to drive myself around, I have my own apartment, and I should be able to study with all my old teachers, so the essentials are set.  I've also got a new kora waiting for me that, I'm promised, is of the finest quality.  Mostly, though, I have a much better practical understanding of Mandé music than I had last year, and I'm hopeful that I'll be able to improvise in the Malian style before the end of this trip.  Plus, I've upgraded my field-recording gear with a stand and a windscreen, so there should be some higher-quality recordings up on the blog later this year.

I might try to post some video, as well.  I've stayed away from recording video in the past since Malians, no less than anyone else, act entirely differently when they're being filmed.  Given that I've spent a lot of time and energy trying to become more Malian or Malian-seeming (learning Bambara, entering into a traditional master/apprentice relationship, spending endless hours drinking tea and discussing world politics), I'm leery of anything that will label me as an outsider.  As I said, we'll see; video can be a powerful explanatory and documentary tool, but I'm not sure it's worth the time and loss of intimacy, particularly as I'm not in Mali for anything other than personal study, not as a grad student or ethnomusicologist.

Many people I've spoken with who know about this return trip have been concerned about my safety, vis a vis Mali's current political situation.  I can respond to this in a couple of ways.  First, I'm not particularly thrill-seeking: if I thought there was a good chance that I would be in physical danger in Mali, I wouldn't be going.  I know and speak with many Malians, both in Mali and without, and read a lot of analysis, both in the world media and on Malian news-aggregator sites.  My considered opinion is that, provided that I stick to Bamako and the south of Mali (including Kita and Sikasso, the only other two cities I'm considering visiting), I should be in no more danger than I ever have been in Mali.  Second, while it is shocking to see the huge territorial gains that Islamists and Tuareg separatists have made in Northern Mali, it's important to remember that this area is sparsely populated, and its inhabitants (those that are left, at least) are widely separated and at the mercy of small, well-organised armed groups like those occupying the region right now.  Bamako alone has more than 2 million inhabitants, or about 1000 inhabitants for each militant by most of the estimates I've read.  Mali's main army base at Kati is only 15 kilometers away, while the "front," if you want to call it that, is over 480 kilometers from Bamako, so if I'm going to be in Mali, I think I'm in the safest place I can be.

I realize that none of this may be overly comforting for some of you reading this, but we're just going to have to see what happens together.  Hopefully you'll all continue to learn about my adventures through this blog, and not through CNN breaking news...

Finally, I should mention that I'm not undertaking this trip under the aegis of the U.S. State Department or the Fulbright program, but on my own.  Mali has temporarily been removed as a Fulbright grant location, so I've been working all this summer to get together the necessary funds for this second trip.  That said, I'll be doing essentially the same activities I did while I was a Fulbright Student, just better, hopefully!

Oh, I've also been going through the 80+ hours of field recordings I made last trip, and I'll try to post one next time so there will be more music and less blather.  Excelsior!

See you in November!

Belated greetings from Virginia.  This blog's been semi-dormant for a few months now, and will be for the next few months, too, I'm sorry to report.  Sadly, Mali's current political situation is in many ways as poor as it was when I left a month and a half ago.  The North of the country, including the regions of Kidal, Gao, and Timbuktu, are all in the hands of either Tuareg separatists or Islamists, who alternately skirmish and forge short-lived alliances.  Hundreds of thousands of the North's inhabitants have fled, either South into government-controlled territory, or into neighboring Niger, Burkina Faso, or Mauritania.  In Bamako, the political situation is still confused.  Many soldiers still seem loyal to Capt. Sanogo, who headed the March 22 coup d'état and has, despite his numerous protestations to the contrary, yet to give up his significant political power.  The ostensible head of state, interim-President Dioncounda Traoré, is still recovering in Paris from wounds received in Bamako at the hands of angry protestors in a move seen by many international observers as orchestrated by Capt. Sanogo.  Some cynical political observers have suggested that Traore is seeking to wait out the ongoing political crisis in the comfort and safety of his hotel room.  The highest-ranking civilian official in Mali is thus Prime Minister Cheick Modibo Diarra, a former NASA employee and former presidential candidate (as was Dioncounda Traore).  Mr. Diarra has had little success as yet in reigning in the excesses of Capt. Sanogo and his men, nor in dealing with the crisis in the North.  Given the political crisis, the local regional power broker, ECOWAS (the Economic Community of West African States), has been threatening with increasing vigor to send in a 3000-member military intervention force to deal with both the Northern and Bamako problems en même temps.  The backdrop to this tragedy is the ongoing Sahel drought, variously projected to leave 10, 15, or 20 million in need of food aid.  Many aid organizations have been forced to pull back from the North of the country due to banditry and the outright theft of goods, not to mention the danger of kidnapping and extortion.

As for me, it seems unlikely that I will be returning to Mali under the auspices of the Fulbright Program.    The State Department is understandably cagey about sending U.S. citizens into such an unstable situation and at this point I don't think that funding will be made available for me before the end of this year, when the funding will be cut for my year's group of Fulbright students permanently.  As such, I'll probably be returning to Mali on my own dime, something I hope to do in early November.  Obviously, I won't be going back if there's civil unrest in Bamako itself at that time.  However, I had always planned to return to Mali to continue my musical studies even after the full 9 months of my Fulbright term; having only been there a little more than 6 months, a return trip is even more crucial to me now.

So, there you have it.  As always, my thoughts are with all my Malian friends, musicians and otherwise, who are living with this uncertainty on a daily basis.  I can only hope that Mali's crises are resolved as quickly as possible.  In the meantime, I'm listening to and playing Malian music every day, and I have every intention of returning to Mali this Fall and spending another 6 months.  The blog will be in hibernation until then.  As always, I can be contacted at waraden.diabate@gmail.com.  Have a great Summer!