Storytellers of Canada-Conteurs du Canada

Cellphone picture of the storytellers at the Niagara Doll house on the Freedom Trail. In this picture, we sing the chorus as Lorne sings and plays his banjo.

July 4-7th was the Conference of SC-CC held at MacMaster University in Hamilton. Storytellers gathered from accross Canada to support the beloved ART which has kept humanity in remembrance from the earliest days, before the advent of rock painting, literature, radio, tv or film.

We heard that the organization was the brain-child of Rosalyn Cohen of Montreal. We heard the story of the organization and met the earliest members who had carried the organization this far, and the many others who have come along to support and learn from it.

During the conference there were lovely stories shared at the evening swaps and it was my pleasure to meet Jan Andrews, author and storyteller who's current project is the Story Save, Jennifer Cayley (co-counders of MASC), Laurel Dee Gugler, the irrepressible Denise Markhame, Kevin MacKenzie and Judith and Mariella who graciously gave us rides in their cars. Celia Lotteridge is a founding member, and Mary Eileen McClear was my favorite teller at the concert. Rene Meshake presented as a Storykeeper, taking us to the roots of his inspiration. I am deeply honoured that I was invited to present a Storykeeper session. I have a sense of kin with these other lovers of story and a deep respect for the way they render story professionally. Three cheers for Carol Leigh Wehking , Glenna Janzen and Barry Rosen , gracious and tireless hosts of this great event.

Ghetto Dude

Ontario Premier Dalton McGuinty apologized Sunday to a young job applicant who received an e-mail from a cabinet staffer referring to him as a "ghetto dude."Evon Reid, who is one credit short of a political science degree fromthe University of Toronto, applied for a position as a media analyst with the Ontario government and last week e-mailed the cabinet office to follow up. Aileen Siu, an office worker, replied: "This is the ghetto dude that I spoke to before."Ms. Siu intended to forward the message to co-workers, but mistakenly sent the response to Mr. Reid, who is black.
Source: Globe and Mail


How fortuitous that the email writer hit reply instead of forward. Every now and then it is good to expose the things which reside deeply in our subconcious, behind the political correctness and the well developed outward etiquette of our business and social worlds.

The email was sent by Ms. Siu about Mr. Reid who was seeking a position as a media analyst in the Ontario government. It is interesting that a part time contract employee, (not even a full time worker) had enough confidence to attempt to forward this email with such a racist comment to coworkers with no fear of sanctioning of any sort. The question is how do the full time workers conduct themselves? Are they laughing at racist comments and jokes and encouraging themselves to out do each other in such performances?

As one who is considered a visible minority, I, like many have come into contact with the subtleties of racism. Once, after speaking with a manager for 20 minutes, she asked me while reading through my resumé, "Do you speak English?" We had been speaking then, face to face, for twenty minutes, and she had never once misunderstood me. It is interesting that I now earn most of my income speaking.... and in English.

At another time, I heard a co-worker ( a nice person) make a similar joke about another person she had interviewed, and I protested. What about the many professional level organizations who repeatedly fail immigrants as they write exams of one kind or another to qualify as specialists in medicine or nursing or veterinary medicine or engineering, or law, citing always that the immigrants are in some way inferior, when many of us have met the professionals, trained here and are often amazed at their levels of competence or incompetence ? Yet, the lie continues in spite of the promotion of multiculturalism and political correctness.

So, some people look down on sensitivity training but I think it is a good thing. It speaks to behaviour if not to motives. It gives us time until a new generation grows up on diversity and anti racism training. As cultural beings, we are often programmed to discriminate in one form or another but it is absolutely crucial that people do not use their positions to close doors in other peoples's faces. Believe what you want, as limiting as that is for you. But keep it inside your house, for out here we must not tolerate it.

The Ansahs at Niagara Falls

If only for once,

we stop

and experience a wonder of God,

the great river Niagara

which won't freeze,

tumble under the finger of God

making splashes and waves

raising mists

and fog

calling people from afar to stop and declare

this beauty inherent

in all

We were the happy hosts of the Ansah family of London, England on this brief, oh so brief turnaround to Ontario and back! Missing from the photo is the indomitable Araba who makes such things uniquely possible.

BME Church, Niagara

Ben Hockley was rescued (twenty miles off course) from the gate he was floating on, as he tried to cross the Niagara River in 1853. Josiah Henson, rolled in the dirt for joy when he crossed the Niagara River on a ferry boat. Oliver Parnall, Burr Pilandro and Dett are some of the names you hear proudly spoken of in Nathaniel Dett BME church in Niagara. And there was this photo of a man who swam across the Niagara River many years ago in pursuit of freedom. His reason, no money to take the ferry across and perhaps fear that the slave catchers were watching the ferries for runaway slaves. He had made it on the Underground Railroad as far as Buffalo, USA where he stayed for a while working for this little girl's dad. The little girl followed him everywhere and one day this old photo was taken. The girl grew up and many years later, the photo was donated to the exhibit at the BME. For me this photo stands for the courage of those who crossed the Niagara river centuries ago, in pursuit of freedom.

Purple Hibiscus

photo credit : www.africacenter.org.uk


Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie is an award winning writer of contemporary literature. Her first book Purple Hibiscus is set in Nigeria during a time of political upheaval. Her book explores contemporary Nigerian life and follows a rich and religious family, through an unusual situation of abuse by a very strict and authoritarian dad, who is also a rich businessman and paradoxically, a conscientious employer.

It isn't that abuse is unusual in W. Africa but the reaction of the opressed wife is what is somewhat unusual. Even though she micarries several pregnancies through this man's heavy handed abuse, she covers for her husband and pretends it doesn't happen. Secrecy of this nature is not so common even within the more westernized suburban homes of the nouveaux riches of Africa. Or is it?

Chimamanda tells her story in the soft first person voice of fifteen year old Kambili, a nervous young girl, whose inner voice has been hushed until it is a mere whisper in the continuing noise of her father's superfluous devotion to the Catholic church, his conflicted love for his family and his strange and deviant ways of punishment. A visit to an aunt provides them with a new view of the twin cultures of contemporary and traditional Nigeria and releases them gradually from the silences they have kept inside the high walls of their father's house.

This book sings of freedom and a coming of age. It adresses the nature of the issues of our lives which are never black and white, but all kinds of conflicted greys, which we encounter as we try to negotiate the often layered and intersecting paths of love for family, loyalty, choice, tradition and responsibilty. Chimamanda's prose is engaging. Her setting comes alive before my eyes, making me smell frangipanis in my fledgling North American garden. She is understated for an African, while the story flows out easily, compelling the reader to follow her closely throughout the journey of this family. She has achieved excellence on her first novel and promises more. Her second book, "Half of a Yellow Sun" is on my table waiting to be devoured.

Computer Trouble

Two days ago, I was taking a therapeutic stroll through the mall, trying to free my brain of the tensions created by hours of creative writing, when there was a power hiccup. The lights flickered on and off and all the escalators stopped at once- 'no grinding to a halt' as I might have expected, being a reader and a writer and a storyteller. I used to love expresions like that until I met the term cliche- the 'e' is accented but I haven't figured how to do that on my new laptop.

Anyway I climbed up the dead escalator and went home, and my computer, (the desktop) which I much prefer for emailing and blogging was dead. I'm thinking, I must have left it on and that power hiccup or surge, (whatever) may have damaged it. Well, the next morning, I could not access my internet service and I spent an entire day unable to connect with the cyber world, my close knit community which keeps me connected, (even loved) through emails, comments, google research etc.

Suffering from cyber withdrawal, I focussed my dark energies on my novel and wrote twenty-two new pages on my laptop. With twenty-two desperate pages, I hit page 100. After supper (in the mall), I rented the movie "Miss Potter" and watched it all by myself. It's my kind of story, about woman, dreams, writing , overcoming and becoming. Today, I'm writing this blog from my laptop computer but I have no photos to share with you yet, as all my photos are on the fried desktop.

The King of the Forest "Kwaebibirem"

Photo credited to Ghanaweb. Osagyefo flanked by Honourable Paul Boateng and Honourable Isaac Osei in London.

Okyeman (or the kingdom of Akyem Abuakwa) is a large traditional area in the Eastern Region of Ghana comprising about five hundred towns and villages. Okyeman is watered by two large rivers, the Birim and Densu, which flow from their source in the Dokyi hills, near Apapam, seven miles from Kyebi – the capital of Okyeman. The Kingdom is home to two mountain ranges. At its highest point, the northern scarp stands 2,585 feet above sea level. The Kyebi or southern range runs from Bunso, 2476 feet above sea level to Akyease.

The density of the Okyeman forest means that it is known as Kwaebibirem, and due to its strategic and geographical location, the Okyenhene has earned the appellation, Kwaebibiremuhene, King of the Forest. He is Osagyefo Amoatia Ofori Panin . The land is rich and endowed with gold, diamond, bauxite, manganese, iron and other mineral deposits. Its lands are extremely fertile and have supported vast plantations of cocoa, cola, rubber, oil palm, coffee and groundnut.

His special interests are the Environment and Reforestation:
Osagyefo is the Chairman of the Governing Board of the Environmental Protection Agency, Ghana. He has also established the Okyeman Environment Foundation.

In 2003 The Okyeman Environment Foundation won the International Green Apple Environment Award in the United Kingdom, held at the House of Commons in London, on November 6, 2003. The Okyeman Environment Foundation is aimed at preserving and protecting forest resources, which are currently under indiscriminate exploitation.

On the Boat to Bojo Beach

We found Bojo Beach at Kokrobite in Accra, with the purest white sand on the shores of the Gulf of Guinea, no less. A short canoe ride takes people across what must be a lagoon to get to the beach proper. There were life jackets hanging on the boat ramp but nobody to instruct about safety or our choices, to wear or not to wear. When Ako asked the canoeist about safety instructions, he said the water was shallow and there were never any accidents. Accidents wait for precisely such thought. Bojo is a beautiful beach which I would like to visit again.

Doors

View message
This blogging thing is getting complex. I have managed to forward a photo message from a cell phone to email, to my blog. (What a mouthful!) But it has become a secret photo which won't show unless you click 'view message.' So go ahead and click on
it until I figure things out.

Doors (under construction)

Doors hold secrets.
They let you in, and you belong

They shut you out,

Alone, excluded, despised.

Doors imprison or set you free
Opens into a garden

Fragrant with memories,

Refreshing the soul,
While another locks thought

Inside a constricted cell,

Of bitter emotion

Or plain old boredom- ennuie.
Coccooned, embraced and reassured,
Forlorn, forsaken in the cold and rain,
One door is death, another is life,

May your door open to the light.

The secret photo hiding behind "View Message" is of our guide on the Freedom Trail, standing by the secret door inside a basement of a house in Niagara where escaped slaves were kept secure after they had crossed the Niagara river, following the North Star to freedom. I only had a cell phone for a camera but one other storyteller on the tour, promised to send me pictures from her camera.

The Last Day of School

In Ghana, the last day of school was typically called "Our Day!" It was usually a day of feasting and games, when teacher's straps (canes) lay still and forgotten. Why, one could even dress-up for the occassion. In boarding school where most of us spent our high school years, the night before the morning was when we held our midnight feast, then in the morning we cleaned house and waited for our parents to pick us up for home. This June, my son Wynne reminded me when his last day came. The last day of high school, the final day of exams. I could hardly believe it. So fresh were my memories of preschool and the first day of kindergarten. These days he hardly wakes up with enough time to eat breakfast, so we always have breakfast bars, all kinds, to pick up and go. The next thing I knew, the door was open, "Bye Mom,". In the nick of time, I found the camera. I rushed outside with it and said, "Wynne, stop. Say 'bye' again". Then snap! It was an historic moment, made just for Moms. He is due for university. I think he wants to get away from home and find himself, mainly. These days he is thinking about happiness, wondering if he ought to take a year out and pursue his dreams of producing hip- hop. What would I do if I were his age? I went to school to achieve my dreams, granted they were my parents' dreams as well, but I ended up achieving subconcious dreams. I'm still hoping I have the power to achieve all the dreams I ever dreamt. At 17 which path should one take, with the whole world at one's feet?

You can hear Wynne's beats and music at http://www.myspace.com/eardrumaticsbeats

Kwame Nkrumah Mausoleum

I thought it right to show The Honourable Dr. Kwame Nkrumah in his glory.

Inside the museum of the Nkrumah mausoleum, you will be told not to take any photos. The walls of the room are lined with photos of all the dignitaries that Nkrumah met on his ascent to the highest echelons of Ghanaian and Pan-African power. The photos are framed in a way to make them difficult to see, as they appear to be pre-wrapped in cellophane. There is also a furniture exhibit including a three-bulb lampstand boasting red, yellow and green pearl lamp bulbs. There are two small single beds, his beds and mattresses used in both Achimota School and Lincoln University in the U.S. (Gosh, I hope it is Lincoln University. I'm pretty sure it starts with an L.) There's a couch which bears an uncanny resemblance to a car seat and I think an armchair. I know there are more things, but this is all I remember.

What would I like to see? Perhaps a film or two starring Nkrumah giving one of his famous speeches; write-ups or audio-visuals of discourses, debates, representing his ideas and ideology, what he did right and what went wrong. What influenced him, who his mentors were, what his fears were and what his detractors had against him. Although it is a mausoleum, I do believe it should be more dynamic, propelling Ghana with its uncertain history of democracy toward a more stable and effective future.

Coup d'Etat

In the sculpture park of the National Museum in Ghana, there are a number of pieces. Here is a damaged piece of sculpture: a statue of Dr. Nkrumah with his arms broken off during the first coup d'etat in 1966.

Is there any justification for coup d'etats? Since the end of colonialism, African countries and Latin American countries have had an amazing number of coup d'etats. Ghana in its 50 years of independence has had the Kotoka-Afrifa coup, the I.K. Acheampong coup, the Akuffo palace-coup (debatable if this counts as a coup d'etat), the JJ Rawlings coup 1 and the JJ Rawlings Coup 2. -all this in 50 years of independence. For about 20 of those 50 years, JJ Rawlings was the head of state of Ghana, first as an autocratic self-imposed leader and then in his rebirth as a democratic leader. JJ is still fighting for behind the scenes control...ugh!

Recently when I was in Ghana there were frustrated party members of the opposition breathing coup d'etat in the national newspapers. Even in private conversation with a Christian, highly educated woman ex-politician, I was amazed to hear her preferring a coup d'etat as a likely solution for current governmental mismanagement, or whatever. Eiii! When some of us are praying that we could go through the next 8 years with succesful elections, bringing our fledgling democracies, whatever their problems into maturity!

Good governance is key to our survival as citizens of today's world, within our countries. It is important to our health, prosperity, social and mental well being as people. Those aspiring to leadership should know this and commit to this. They ought to study, think, desire, dream, design, debate and hold themselves up to the highest moral standards and commitment. It is important to remember that these days, coup d'etats, no longer involve a small group of leaders and a quick change. More and more blood is spilled in long civil wars and nothing can justify the years of loss, pain, devaluation, devastation, destruction, decay and death.

The Nkrumah Mausoleum

click on photo to enlarge

Stephanie and the mmenhyenfo, (hornblowers) announcing the elder statesman, Dr. Kwame Nkrumah. This is one of the sites to visit in Ghana, built in memory of Ghana's first president Kwame Nkrumah who was also the first African prime minister , beginning the era of post colonization. Acclaimed as a visionary and pan Africanist he unfortunately resorted to the tactics of a dictator, promulgating into law, a one party state in which the rights of individuals were horribly suppressed. With such a controversial legacy, Ghanaians have often either tended to see only the good (Nkrumaists) or chosen to see only the negative. The party he started, the CPP is still represented in Ghana while other parties often define themselves as sympathetic or opposed to the sentiments aroused by the very idea of Kwame Nkrumah.

Family Tree

photo credit: Kofi Twum-Barima

Nana Twum Barima was the kyidomhene of Kyebi, aka Kibi, Akim Abuakwa up to the mid 1940s. Ooh, I really must check up on dates. I'm using the second world war as my compass because I know my father travelled during the war to study at Trinity College, Cambridge University and his father, Nana Twum- Barima died during his stay in the UK. I never met my father's half-brother. Of his family we knew his sister, our aunt Mary, her children and some of his cousins. Our grandfather was the chief of Kibi, in a position much like the mayor. He was a farmer and a builder. He built (with his bare hands) the popular dance hall of Kibi, and as well the current courthouse and rooms which are presently owned by the extended family, through the Akan matrilineal system. He also built a unique farm house at Potroase, a two story mudhouse. He was educated and would have become a catechist if he hadn't accepted to become a chief, as quoted from some old literature 'ne'er the twain shall mix'.

My father remembered him as very hard working. He kept a vegetable garden in which he grew lettuce and cabbage, which he supplied to the European missionaries, teachers and government officials. He also regularly enjoyed the cakes that the middle school house-craft teachers baked for him in gratitude. It is believed that the cakes may have led partially to his demise as he developed a sweet tooth for desserts while he had diabetes. He could not resist cake! Here is a photo of some of his grandchildren and great grandchildren through his son, the late Professor Kankam Twum-Barima, my father.

Birthdays

Birthdays: a time for celebration, again and again. Life deserves to be celebrated for all the good energy released for healing and mending. On birthdays we celebrate for no other reason than that we are alive, we do belong and are grateful. Felicia celebrated her 10th birthday party in style, (I mean style) and we were fortunate to be there to celebrate with her. Today is her Dad's birthday and I hope he finds time to celebrate. God is good and in His time He makes all things beautiful.

Space and Process

Here I am at the amphitheatre, acquainting myself with the space and the good energy available for me. I'm working out a tentative program for the afternoon. I'm in the moment. Photo by Fulé.

On July first, Canada Day, Fule and I were at Franklin's Garden, Centre Island in Toronto performing stories for children. In the outdoor amphitheatre I had forty people as my audience- participators including little children and adults. The drum was an instant draw and we had a pleasant hour together telling stories with music song and dance.

The View

July 1st, Canada day, Fule and I went to Toronto Island with the rest of Toronto...literally! The ferry ramp was so full but armed with a Toronto parks and rec. pass, we were able to eat breakfast and still find a good place in the line-up. Coming back, we found the best view of Toronto from Centre Island. Isn't Toronto beautiful to behold, once one is not trapped in traffic and sweating it out millimetre by millimetre on the Gardiner Expressway? That expressway has humbled me on more than one occassion. Stay posted and I may reveal why we went to Centre Island with a pass.

Perspective

photo by Adwoa

Dundas Valley Conservation Area: A workshop for Child Care Supervisors.

Curiousity may have led to the kitty's trouble but hopefully, satisfaction is enough to make up for everything else. This little boy hid in the bushes to watch us drum, of course his parents weren't very far off. Oh, that we may still be curious about this world's offerings, that we may see, hear, smell, taste, try, travel, engage, interact, understand and assimilate in the things that make us human.

Click on the photo to enlarge it.

Storytellers of Canada Conference July 4-7 2007

The annual conference of the storytellers of Canada is being held in Hamilton Ontario from July 4-7th and that is why you haven't read from me because I was away at the conference. I have had to return early because of other commitments but will fill you in on the conference in the days to come. It has been great for me in many ways.

Adwoa

The Naming of HIV

The Naming of HIV


We are required to give you a name
So speak up Kitikrata
Or are you Sonponno?
We are hard pressed to assign you a place
As spirit of air or water or immovable rock
We have asked the carver to make you a mask
And to dress you up in raffia skirt and beaded ankle rings
The song-makers are lost for words
Overwhelmed by inspiration for soulful melodies
At your parade we walk before you
And iron strikes stone at the midnight hour
Ears close to terror
Eyes shut to the wasting of fragile bodies
And the paper thin coffins we carry on our heads
Look and be cursed we call out before you
And mothers cover the eyes of the children
Before they can peek on approaching doom
Sonponno dies Kitikrata lives
What shall we call you?
The talking-drum speaks to those with ears
And strangers dance in your famed masquerades

by Adwoa Badoe

ABCs of Anti-HIV Campaigning

In the Ugandan HIV/AIDS campaign, designed by the government,

A: stands for ABSTINENCE

B: stands for BE FAITHFUL

C: stands for CONDOM use.

Is it possible to teach such virtues, one may ask? Yes, it is difficult but possible. I have heard that behaviour change takes up to ten years to achieve if one is committed and focussed. But once that happens what an impact on society! It's important to involve communities, educational institutions and religious institutions in massive campaigns to change whole nations for the better and to put HIV down. Time has passed since the 1990s and ARVs have been developed- Anti-retrovirals which have prolonged life expectancy among victims of AIDs and almost completely reduced the mother- fetal transmission. This means greater quality of life, fewer orphans, and lower incidence of disease. The campaign is on to make affordable drugs available in Africa. What shall we do to help this situation?

D: therefore stands for DRUGS-life saving ARVs.

This however is not all there is to anti-HIV education. There are human rights issues at stake in this war.

E :stands for ETCETERA.

Poverty is a monster, Malaria and TB are still endemic and inspite of laws, Women and Children's Rights are non existent in communities in Africa, leaving large percentages of the population vulnerable to sexual abuse and exploitation. Here is the chance to change all this as the war on HIV is declared.

Adwoa has written children's books on social issues for Africa: These are published by MacMillan UK.

1. My Sister Julie also translated into French and Kinyarwandan.

2. It's OK to be SAD

3. Malaria

The Picture of AIDS

The story of HIV/ AIDS is well known in Africa, East. Musician Philly Lutaaya of Uganda was one of the first to announce publicly he had AIDS and to lead an awareness campaign in Uganda. Uganda has been one of the first countries to be open about HIV-AIDS. This has paid off as they have decreased the prevalence rate of the disease considerably over the years, through education.

Recently Stephen Lewis has campaigned tirelessly for the situation of HIV in Africa, focussing very much on Lesotho and bringing the HIV epidemic in southern Africa to the fore, for active intervention. Rock stars, businessmen and national leaders Bono, Geldof, Tony Blair, Bill Gates and others in the fight against poverty have identified HIV and Malaria as prime targets in the effort to save Africa. But who talks about West Africa and the HIV epidemic?

I came across 2005 figures on the web and was surprised to find that more people were infected with HIV in Ghana than Lesotho. Albeit the prevalence is 2.3% in Ghana compared to 23% in Lesotho.
Here are some absolute numbers of people living with HIV in West Africa in 2005: www.avert.org
Senegal 61000
Gambia 20,000
Guinea 85,000
Sierra Leone 48,000
Ghana 320,000
Togo 110,000
Benin 87,000
Burkina Faso 150000
Ivory Coast 750,000
Nigeria 2,900,000
Cameroun 510,000
Mali 130,000

In considering disease, prevalence may be as important as incidence, because it gives the percentage of a population that is affected and therefore a measure of the impact of the disease on all aspects of life in the affected country: productivity, poverty, orphaned children etc.

The figures quoted here are the 2005 figures and in most cases things have gone worse. This is food for thought for West Africans who may have felt somewhat complacent about HIV. Very soon we may each know a close someone affected by the disease. What are you going to do about this? Read about HIV on the web or in the news, start a concerned group, look for ways to help by raising funds or supporting some related initiative. Do something. The Ugandan campaign which was started in the 1990s was called the ABC campaign. What do you think ABC stands for? Check in here tomorrow to find out.

Soccer on the Coast

And beyond the music, a game of soccer and spectators who are undecided between soccer and drumming. I chose the drumming in the end.

The Counter Challenge

And here are the Ghanaians asserting themselves.

Drum Party

At the drum making centre of Accra, the drum makers got together to play for me. A competition started between Burkinabes and the Ghanaians. Here are the Burkinabes driving it up.

All that Rhythm

West African drumming is polyrhythmic which means several different rhythm patterns playing together to make up a drum song. The rhythms interlock, connecting each to a central rhythm theme usually played on a bell. African bells come in various shapes and sizes and are variously named according to the people-groups or tribes. There is the gangokui, of closest relation to the cow bell: there is the single bell and the mother-and-child bell where the child is shorter and lies on the belly of the mother. There are the twin bells of equal size connected by the holding stem.. There are also the boat shaped Asante firikyiwa bells and the thumb bells and many more, I haven't yet seen. Apart from these there are also the higher pitched shakers and rattles of all kinds made from combinations of gourds, seeds and baskets which may be used to anchor the rhythm. My favorite is the shekere or axatse- gourd and seed shaker. There are often a masterful complement of drums of various sizes, shapes and skins which may be played by hand, stick or hand stick combinations. These provide the different tones which make up the drum languauges. Every peoples have found the tones which speak their particular language and compel them to sing and dance the spirit of the people alive. The Malinkes prefer the djembes and the dun-duns, the Wolof prefer the sabars which come by various names. The talking drums: dono, tama are more universal although they speak by vaious tongues. There are the slit drums, bata drums, fontonfrom drums, and the water drum made out of an inverted gourd over water, as well as the calabash drum played with the heel of fists. Other popular instruments provide the melody:the kalimba or mbira, the balafon or marimba, the kora, ngoni, the seprewa and the one stringed gourd guitar, the various bamboo flutes and also very importantly the voice of the singer carrying over top of everything else.

Uhuru-Freedom

photo credit: Randy Sutherland
On Saturday Afroculture performed UHURU for family and friends of the students of the Afroculture drum and and dance program. The performance was staged at the GYMC Recital hall. The evening unfolded with a dress up and rehearsal and our show began at 7pm prompt. I began the show with congratulations to students and a poem I had written that morning. The evening flowed effortlessly as if we were extremely well rehearsed. The dances were not flawless but filled to the brim with good energy, sweat, excitement and pleasure. The drumming vibrated in every cell of every body, waking up the dying. Yes, waking up the dying.

Uhuru- Freedom

freedom runs over

because it cannot be contained

inside a mere cup

of tin, porcelain, ceramic or gold

not even in one composed of flesh

with a lid made to fit

freedom is charged with too much pressure

within one complex compound

of life, laughter, hope and dreams

freedom bubbles over and spills

whoever it touches will be changed.

Adwoa Badoe

Latitudes Festival 2007

The 2007 Latitudes Festival was held at the Victoria Park, in Kitchener-Waterloo, Ontario. They were hosted by the K-W Multicultural festival, a very busy event with thousands of people passing through. We got there tewnty minutes to 6pm and I began my storytelling ten minutes early, filling the gap left by the last storyteller who may also have started early. The tent filled rapidly to Fule's drumming and my audience was enthusiastic as I told one story and then another, interspersing the folktales with songs and chants and the irresistible drum undergirding our voices. What a delightful day, filled with the colours of the whole wide world, the sun warm and yet not punishing and people walking about at ease, linking arms, hugging and greeting one another. There were lay photographers strolling about, watching out for the perfect picture to capture, of lovers staring at the dark green lake, children running around underfoot and babies squealing in their strollers, munching apples right down to the core. Among all these music filtered and swirled as though through a sieve of human bodies and intentions. We walked along without a care. If only summer would last forever....

Sister Vision Press

What do you do when your book vanishes from sight, the publishers disappear and your work of love and creativity simply disappears? Crabs for Dinner was my first published book and I have a place of honour for it in my heart. The story is amusing, fun, interesting and thoughtful for young minds and I absolutely love reading it. The trouble is not that it made me very little money (which is not strange for a first book) but then the publishing company disappeared from sight and although the company was literally a two person operating unit, I have sought them in vain. And all I want is information. This book was culled for Super Senses, an Ontario resource for schools and also written in braille. These things I found out quite by accident.

Crabs for Dinner was reviewed positively in the Globe and Mail. It was great for young minds, very useful for the children to understand and embrace the differences in cultures found in Canada, and it was very humourous with an endearing nameless character. It was edited by a dear friend and great children's author Robert Munsch. It was this book which brought us in contact with each other.

What does one do when someone disappears with another's work silently into the vague metropolis? It's almost as if my book was only a dream. A company with a slightly different name Sister Vision Educational Press has a phone number and address but nobody returns the calls. Even if there is a bankruptcy should we not at least be told what happens to our work? Can I buy it back? Can I publish it again with some other press? These two women were doing a good job for us creative women of colour. We considered them to be women of vision and leadership. Here's my advice: Bankruptcy is a tragedy I would wish on nobody but please do not let it cost you, (as women in leadership, your integrity, leadership and rsponsibility. For me, this is the real tragedy.

Dobet Gnahore

picture credit brucemoore.com

She is the next thing after Angelique Kidjo and I watched her open air performance in Ghana , April 2007 at the Alliance Francaise where she wowed the crowd with original music sang in at least four different West African languages. This woman is electric! Sparks fly everywhere as she performs. Her presence is arresting as she switches from a decorative percussive pot to the mbira and other strange instruments which seem to complement her own unique self. Her musicians are highly skilled singers, guitarists and a drummer who seems able to play the kit drum right alongside hand drums effortlessly. We could only gape at her as she sang and changed from one instrument to another and when she got up to dance...oh my, what a dancer: sensual, expressive, amazing, awesome...mama Africa in the prime of life.

She's coming, she's stirring things with the energy of Angelique and a whole new level of magnetism.

Go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ZzIObJOJgo

for a piece of Dobet.

Jiwani- gye w'ani

photo credit: Randy Sutherland

Our group Jiwani has been performing since 2003 when I named it for our presentation at the Ojo Ayo festival. This group was the natural progression of my dance classes taught in Guelph since 1999...?... once my class was able to keep students enrolling year after year. We have since performed at many venues in Ontario and performed two major shows: the River Bride and The Griot's Journey, available on DVD. The life blood of the group is the dedication of its dancers and drummers, as the group requires that its performers be enrolled in on going classes to learn new material. The group also welcomes new talent identified through the Afroculture dance and drum classes. This approach means that performers are consistently learning new material and then practising in special Jiwani practice sessions toward performances.

Multicultural Festival 2.

The festival was a good place to meet friends and make new acquaintances. Children I had taught years ago had grown much bigger, babies who used to ride about in strollers were running about on strong sturdy legs. Teenagers I had last seen in grade twelve were done university and working. Time has moved along in Guelph. Our booth was a fun place all festival. We made friends with our vendor neighbours Elizabeth and Marlene who were selling specialty items from Thailand. We also made friends with Khadi whose wares hailed from Senegal. I have great memories of Dakar Senegal, the country of tall dark graceful beauties who sashay along, never ever in a hurry, with their eyes highlighted in kohl, and light billowy gowns blowing gently about them. So many people stopped by to discover rhythm in our booth or to play delightful foot tapping rhythms from Asia or Africa. We jammed with one and then another and we sold drums. Laughter spilled everywhere between queries: How much is this and then the other? What is this and then the other? We were there as much for exhibition as for sales. Everyone was welcome to touch, to feel, to play to experience. This time I wasn't able to dance to the Mariachi band as I was working. But I remembered Luis and Laura. Once upon a time we had all eaten together with Maria, Martha and Daniel at the food tent and danced to Latino music beneath the big tent. Our workshops were well attended. In Guelph people like a chance to participate in something different. Then we performed two dances at the band shell. It was such a pleasure to see Beata after so many years and her daughter who had been born after we had last met. Then she had two children and now she has four. Wow! In Guelph the place to reconnect is at the multicultural festival.

The Guelph Multicultural Festival

The Multicultural festival is about eleven years old. I have been attending for many of those years, sending my chilldren on the rides and bouncy castles when they were little. Now they come sometimes and only to hang out with friends. For the very first time we have an Afroculture booth along with many other entrepreneurs at the Guelph Multicultural Festival. The festival has grown larger. It is still situated at the beautiful Riverside park. We will be performing on Sunday to fill a gap in the International Language Program's line up for centre stage . We will also be teaching workshops on Saturday and Sunday.

Today was set up time, and testing the scene and ourselves in our new role as merchandisers. We met others we know well in the business, and although for this weekend we are competitors we are also among friends and do indeed wish them well after wishing ourselves well first. Saikou from Toronto has set up a great display. Primordial Drums is directly opposite him. There's a Senegalese lady I met last year at the Afri festival of Waterloo. There are many firsts for us, erecting our booth and securing it at the end of the day. We trust it is secure! So many trips back and forth for this and that all because we're new at this. Wynne spent the entire afternoon there, until he was sick of it. I used up his Friday until very late so I rented him a movie for his entertainment.

I hope tomorrw goes well and we make lots of sales. I expect lots of traffic at our booth and excellent sales. Guelph is where we learn new things.

Chinua Achebe-2007 Man Booker Prize winner

As children growing up on colonial fare, we were fed everything British. British was best and so I read Enid Blyton's mass media books from Amelia Jane to Brer Rabbit and all her mysteries and adventures, everything -almost. Then we discovered America's Nancy Drew at the Osu Children's library. As soon as we were old enough, we read Mills and Boon and Harlequin, hidden between text books during geography class. The boys discovered Nick Carter, the character, (I'm not sure who wrote those books)and together we discovered the block-buster books of Harold Robbins, Sidney Sheldon and Alex Haley. When we thought of literature and fiction these were what we thought of, not the books our schools forced on us, The Day of the Triffids, Invisible Man, My family and Other Animals or Shakespeare's Macbeth or Julius Caesar.

All of a sudden from the middle of this sea of literary whiteness, we discovered that Africans actually wrote books, fiction which explored our lives, our cultures, pre colonial life and history. We were excited to taste the flavour of our vernaculars cleverly translated into the English language and yet retaining the taste of salt, pepper ginger and onions. Instantly we felt at home, as if we had read these all our lives. Our eyes opened, we could see into the life of Okwonkwo and by extrapolation the lives of our great grandfathers, when they had marked the land and cut down the forest to create homes and villages and towns. We began to understand what their hopes had been and why the whiteman had so awed them. We began to visualize the stresses of colonialism, the forced inferiority and the reasons why we were who we are. And not because we had read the clinical facts of history from which all black thought had been excluded. When we read of the Abolition, we never heard of Quobna Ottobah Cugoano nor of Olaudah Equiano. We never learned of William Still or Harriet Tubman or Toussaint d'Ouverture of Haiti. Abolition was Granville Sharp, William Wilberforce and Thomas Clarkson, all heroes of England expressing the goodness of white. Thank God times are changing or we may never have heard of Nelson Mandela, only of the honourable F.W. de Klerk.

Where else could we discover the beauty of blackness if all we knew of ourselves was that we had performed human sacrifices, sold our brothers into slavery and been conquered, indentured, colonized, or if you like plundered against our will. As if these roles were singularly ours to enact on the theatre stage of our world. And even today when our stories are told, our voices, our art, our take on literature is often rejected by the big-boy publishers so that our stories gush out of western mouths, open wide to taste the bottom of grandmother's pepper-soup. Another Picasso waiting to be born. But every now and then, someone makes it to the top in spite of the odds. Someone wins a coveted prize. So we celebrate the elder novelist Chinua Achebe of Nigeria, (I say of Africa) and the open path he cut through the bush for many others to follow, like Ben Okri and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and those of us who are finding the path. It is Chinua Achebe who explains as none other, the real role of the storyteller of our times. He enacts it fully for all to see. While madness drives a man into the bush, the storyteller is coralled to the compound to serve it well. So we serve; so we serve.

“Agwu picks his disciple, rings his eye with white chalk and dips his tongue, willing or not, into the brew of prophecy; and right away the man will speak and put head and tail back to the severed trunk of our tale. " Anthills of the Savannah

When we were young and discovered Heinneman's African Writers Series, we strung titles together and learned this chant: Because of Burning Grass and The Narrow Path, the People of the City are No longer at Ease, so Weep not Child, when Things Fall Apart. So fully did we own African writing, the titles were like music to our ears. It is true what Chinua Achebe says: "It is the story that makes us different from the animals." Anthills of the Savannah

Mamady Keita

Fule and Mamady

Last Saturday, Fulé and Andrew took Mamady's workshop for the very first time in Toronto. Mamady did not know it but Fulé as a djembe drummer and director of Jiwani has learned almost everything he knows from Mamady Keita. Mamady Keita is the superstar of Malinke Djembe drumming! Yes, I know of several other names of equally skilled drummers such as Famoudou Konate, and we have enjoyed the drumming of Adama Drame on CD, and taken Mbemba Bangoura's workshop in drumming and dance. But none has done as much for Djembe drumming, or even hand drumming as Mamady with his skill, his vision, his deligence and his business sense. Mamady Keita is much bigger than his frame, having reached more people through his teaching CDs, his book, A life for the Djembe, which he co-authored and the dramatic documentary film of his life and his djembe, Djembefola. This man is a class act and Fulé and I periodically enjoy his performance DVD with his amazing group, Sewa Kan.

It isn't as though there are no master drummers in Ghana or other African countries. The Ghanaian drum scene has its own particular flavours and complexity of rhythm, from the Northern drum ensemble, favouring the dono and the brekete types, the Akan ensemble, the Ga ensemble and the Ewe ensemble with their myriad types of drums. Infact the depth of tone of these other kinds of drumming cultures and the fact that the lead drum is usually the bass drum, gives Ghanaian drumming a compelling awe and power unlike other drum cultures. Within the Malinke drum culture, solos are created with a tightly tuned lead djembe which delivers its high pitched soliloquys over top of rhythm-djembes and the bass complement of djun-djuns.

Whether one prefers one culture of drumming to another is entirely a matter of preference and culture. But it is undeniable that Mamady and those like him have taken the djembe culture to another level of prominence. While they have preserved the folkloric, they have gone far to improve showmanship and to create other drum songs, and new solos for older rhythms. While this prominence may be given to the versatility and portability of the djembe itself as an instrument and particularly as a solo drum instrument, we cannot deny the national vision that supported the Ballets Guineen and Ballets Djoliba and which projected them to international prominence with superior techniques of performance drumming and choreographic excellence. Today, because of Mamady Keita, all the world has heard of the Djembefola and even as far as Indonesia they make tone challenged djembes out of mango wood.

PARTY PRAISE!

I wonder if any other cultures make dance music with religious themes of worship, thanksgiving and praise to God. Ghanaians make the most upbeat songs of praise in contemporary highlife and hiplife styles which lend themselves to dances at parties , gatherings, festivals and all kinds of get-togethers. We unabashedly join our voices to the compelling refrain of soulful voices extolling the virtues of God alongside the guitars, saxophones and high strung synthesizers while the drums pound a beat irresistible to dancing feet. We dance, we we stomp, we twist and turn merging our joy of community and worship into one, with laughter spilling unreservedly from mouth to ear, filling the spaces between conversations with ease, sweeping us all into healthy release. We look into each others eyes as we speak, shake hands with firmness and hug with warmth, seeking the exchange of good will.

All this at Joel's first birthday party, where the sauces and stews of the women's cooking fill us with desire for pepper and ginger and onions and salt, and the fermented corn rich dumplings of West Africa. The back door is open and the children careen in and out, playing hide and seek or catch. Sometimes they pause to breakdance to the admiration of uncles and aunties, clapping their hands and shouting: Go, go, go, Joshua! Our laughter mingles. We are one with the music, the praise, the joy, the food and with one another!

Shout out to Joel, Janet, Eddie, Joshua, Araba and Buadi!

RUNNING AND READING-Kidsfest

NUMBER 271 crosses the finsh line, HURRAY!

I am awakened with sleep hunger at 8 o'clock. I am still paralysed by some delayed action of sleep when I plead with Fule to call me from his cell in ten minutes, to make sure that I actually get out of bed. Faithfully, he calls. Maureen picks me up at 8:32. Actually we leave at about 8:45pm to York University in Toronto- east. There kids from at least 8 schools and several districts in Toronto are competing with themselves and against each other to finish a 5 kilometre race. This is a race they have been training for the whole school year in their Reading and Running Clubs, birthed by Canadian marathon star Silvia Ruegger and offered through Kids Fest Canada. This unique program is Silvia's response to the needs of inner city children in the elementary grades and supports them as an after hours school program, with goals which include success at reading, goal setting, team building, mentoring and fitness. Of course they are also watching out for the kids who show real promise at running to support them in the development of their talents.


I first met Silvia at Mosaic, a Christian prayer ministry run by ex-CFL star Brian Warren who is a pastor and the founder of KidsFest Canada. Then I heard Silvia at the Eden Mills Community Centre where she spoke about her Reading and Running School Clubs for boys and girls in a dynamic and insightful presentation, which included her own path as a marathon runner and a video clip showing her amazing eighth place finish in the very first women's Olympic marathon ever. Silvia is intense, passionate, a pace setter with a heart for the children. Her goal, to keep hope and possibilty alive in the eyes of the children. Her Canadian record, set at the Ottawa Marathon in 1984 at 2:30:37 is still unbroken, more than 20 years after. It was the very first marathon she run in competition.

This Saturday, the very air was static with excitement and anticipation. One could almost see sparks of electricity here and there as the kids were urged on to finish the race, with Brian's voice booming over the loud speakers while dozens of volunteers run here and there fixing everything up. There were loads of trophies, photo ops., freezies, bouncy castle-kind structures and a large white reading tent. In the tent I told West African stories to the kids, (this is the Afroculture connection) working hard to hold their attention against the smell of barbecued hamburgers, the anticipation of the mighty bounce in three or four castles set up not too far away, and a delightful tee-shirt decorating activity. The individual winners went home with great gifts, the Sony thing called Wii and several boom boxes. The event was supported by City of Toronto, Scholastic, Running Free Sport and Brooks among several others. Willow P.S. of Guelph won the team first place. Go Willow, Go Guelph. (I couldn't resist that.)

What a success!

Corporate Afroculture Workshop: Wellington County Child Care Services

Yesterday Wellington County Child Care Services celebrated the contributions of child home care service providers in the county to a sit down dinner in the beautiful banquet hall of the Italian Canadian Club of Guelph, 135 Ferguson Street.

AFROCULTURE arrived at 7:00pm to set up forty-five small djembes. We also dressed up the organizers, six of them including Laurie and Stacey in colorful African wax print and cowrie bead accessories. Then the fun began with Fule's trademark beginner workshop loaded with jokes and wise cracks to relax the participants and to aid them in their quest for rhythm. Kathleen ably supplied both the anchoring beat, the mother rhythm and the deep end of the rhythm on the djuns. The ladies had a blast and held their rhythm together amidst much laughter. I travelled the room on my backside, taking photos of the women playing drums, focussing, laughing. I told two African stories in appreciation of good service to the community, to the theme: one heart. Then I introduced the dance. We had them all sweating and thirsting and moving and at the end, by their own comments, they had thoroughly enjoyed themselves. The dance drew ready laughter and broke barriers between the people. They loved the rhythm, the dance and the fact that they were involved and not just watching. I met my neighbour, Jennifer and Sally's friend Barbara. It's always nice to reconnect with people one knows. So if you're having a corporate event, try us at www.afroculture.com.

Adwoa

Four Seasons

In my part of Africa, we only have two seasons, wet and dry. Our average temperature is 28 degrees, this is a conservative estimate! Inspite of this, I am thinking of calling the Afroculture recital Four Seasons, after all here in Canada we enjoy the changing of the seasons, even if winter is much too long.

I'm not sure if this theme will survive the week. If it does, I'll need four ideas to work through our show which will be performed by the children, teens and adults we teach in our dance and drumming classes. Our singing is tentative and I wish there was more I could do about that. It is probably an overstatement to say that we are overwhelmed by compliments for Spirit Alive. It is nice when one's work touches hearts. We continue to nurse our toes and dance. Come dance with us. Come to our Recital on June 23rd.

African Performance Arts for youth

Today Stephanie, Marissa and Kadi performed at the GCDF Youth moves. All three are steady dancers: Stephanie pays attention to the execution of the choreography and is responsible for the others in this regard. Marissa is very natural as a dancer and full of improvisations and Kadi is more introspective and more subtle as a dancer. In their diverse ways they give a lot to each other in performance. After our second performance today, it was Kadi the more reluctant dancer who had an idea for the next choreography. She surprised me in this regard as sometimes I have wondered whether she likes the stage.

I really think that people of African descent have a penchant for the performing arts. Now I know that's a generalization but it is a good one and if more people are discovering that this is not so, it must be the westernization and urbanization which is overunning our world. This is not all bad because the western block-buster approach to everything: big stages, big films, celeb bands and superstars have woken up the world to know that it is possible even if hard to make a great living out of the arts. How important for those who are born with this gift of healing and community, or healing for the community. How great for the community.

As a child I began to learn the traditional dances of Africa at age eleven. I had ofcourse watched, heard and observed all this from early childhood but I must confess that my first memories of dance, were doing the twist to "My boy lolipop," when I imitated my older siblings. Then I remember trying the 'bugaloo' and the 'pop corn' all of which I learned from teen aged older siblings. By the time I was twelve my sister and I were winning dance competitions held at birthday parties because we had older siblings to learn all the cool moves from. Then at the end of elementary school my school introduced my graduating class to African dance. I fell at once and completely in love with it.

If one learned to dance then one wanted to be watched. One courted the eyes of the audience. This ofcourse gave birth to that love for performance, acknowledgement and praise. No wonder in the courts of the traditional rulers and at all community functions, people from very young to very old want to strut their stuff to the praise of the community. In West Africa, performance results in much applause and the spraying of money: coins and notes placed on the forehead of the dancer, drummer, poet or singer. In my parents day, English colonial mentality prohibited all the school goers who were pursuing education from joining in the community arts of dance, song, and drumming. They missed out on their rich cultural heritage. Until today my Mom envies those who can articulate the graceul dance of the Akans, (the adowa) at funerals and festivals. She can only pretend to dance it.

In Africa the arts are functional: binding , motivating and healing to the community. The arts are also participatory with a place for everyone. Voice, expression as well as release is available to everyone in very accessible spaces.
My argument: Why not use the traditonal arts and its more contemporary and emerging forms to engage youth, to give voice, expression, healing and belonging to a whole new generation.

Dedicated to Africa

photo by Randy Sutherland
Our second time at GCDF, but this time I have little to say as I didn't get to watch the other acts at either the Site Specific series of the Youth Moves. So I rushed around all morning between venues for tech rehearsals and the show, as both Jiwani and my kiddie trio: Steph, Kadi and Marissa were performing.

I was pleased with Spirit Alive and I have plans to make it even more dynamic. Kwame Badoe's music was emotive, passionate and stirring. I was glad for the opportunity to criss cross media, beginning with prerecorded voice (poetry) over instrumental music, rooted in recorded djembe and djun sound then layering over top with live djembe ensemble and the "rechauffer" with robust live drumming. It made for a dynamic soundscape, an interesting development of the concept of the lone prayer rising up and being buffered and supported until the the Spirit is reborn and sustained by the entire community.

Spirit Alive was born as an idea in my mind and as my co-artists lent their support to it, the music was composed and the dance developed in the womb of my regular dance class and then alllowed to grow in the dance-drum troupe Jiwani wherein it was choreographed , practised and critiqued. Spirit Alive is dedicated to Africa.

The Artist Entrepreneur

photo by Mike Chaves

To my mind to succeed as an artist, one must also be an entrepreneur. It's miserable if one ends up poor and unwell with the talent that Van Gogh possessed. That makes for good tragedy post-humously but not a happy life. Yet, it seems to me as though the dominant patterns in the brain which serves one out into society as an artist, inhibits the calculating business/sales/ administartive/ auditing mind that one needs to be successful. Therefore artists wait to be discovered and managed, which is very good when that happens and one finds really good managers, agents, etc. But many artists have enough skill and talent to be successful not necessarily to become celebrities but to make as good a living as any other profession. In a place like Canada it's great that there are grants and available in the absence of royal patronage. It would be nice to have patronage too:) Here's what I'm thinking: Many artists have figured things out in their community. They may know how to produce themselves and put on a show from concept to advertising and marketing. But they can only do this in their own neck of the woods where they have had to find the entrepreunerial edge. They may have an extensive list of people who have watched them grow who may come to see their work. Why don't such artists who may be wearing down their own audience with this overexposed act (within their own community), connect with others from different parts of the province and host, produce and market them in their home community in exchange for similar favours from the visiting artist. In essence an intercity network of co artists. Recently I watched the East York Choir in performance and they were wonderful in their communtiy. But after all this practice they perform once and that's it unless someone could host them elsewhere and run the business of it where they cannot. In lieu of agents and managers, how could this happen? In Africa we say "hand come, hand go". In Canada we say: "you scratch my back and I scratch yours". Imagine that there were associations formed in this manner, the mid level artist could potentially get really busy and the emerging artsist would know the value of working to establish themselves within their own community. Artist Entrepreneurs need to think this way to connect to a bigger world. We know that in our day Van Gogh would have fared better, wouldn't he?

On this note I hereby create my intercity network of Artist Entrepreneurs. You may register with me so long as you are a performing artist, don't live in Guelph and have succesfully put on shows seating at least 250 people :)

They put the SOUL in Spring

Hurray for Jenny Crober and the East York Choir for a powerful and soul stirring afternoon of song. Choral music is a force of nature, I find, and we were treated to Canadian composers, Tchaikovsky and a Bulgarian folk song. My personal favorites were Wood River, The Scout and Polegnala e Todora. The switch to Spirituals was powerful with "Ain't got time to die and De blin' man stood on de road and cried.
At the intermission I bid for perennials to plant in my upstart garden and then I kept my fingers crossed. Matlakala/Emily was an up beat joyous song to begin the African section. Indeed I loved all the songs but since I'm choosing favorites, I must say I love the rythm and tempo of Si njay njay njay, I love the gentleness and calm of Hamba Lulu. Vamudara makes me want to dance the "adowa" and O Sifuni Mungu and Siyahamba must be everybody's favorite. Ah, I might as well add on Hombe for its vocal complexity and Thula baba which i first heard in the show Umoja. There I loved them all.

"Onipa da wo ho so," written by my godfather, Dr. Ephraim Amu never ceases to call out my goosebumps one by one. He would have been so proud and so would my Dad who visited Canada only once in his lifetime. The little percussion section grew larger at Larry Graves suggestion. Suddenly not only did he want to drum but he wanted to sing, and involve the audience in the signature double clap of Kpanlogo. He even got me to dance the kpanlogo. How could I refuse? He and Fule had a blast, Larry on the kpanlogo and Fule on the djembe. My story The Magic Tree of the Sahel was well received and the afternoon came to an end.

The choir and Jenny received a standing ovation which I consider well deserved. At the end, we met so many people and received an abundance of compliments. I remember particularly, Brainerd Blyden-Taylor who directs the great Nathaniel Dett Chorale , Constantin and Mima who hail from Bulgaria. Mima is a member of the Trio Orpheus and Mariatou comes from Sierra Leone. I thought it would be a wonderful event and so it was. The Nathaniel Dett Chorale will be singing in Guelph in the fall. I wonder: what about the East York Choir? Maybe Guelph should have a taste of them too.

Spring Soul- Toronto, Eastminster United Church

Tonight we practised with the East York Choir which will present Spring Soul tomorrow , Sunday May 27th at 3pm. They sound heavenly and when the bass and tenors sing Dr. Amu's Onipa, I get goosebumps all over me. I'll tell you about my favorite songs tomorrow when I have the program before me and can spell everything just right. Fule and Larry are playing percussion, mainly the Djembe and Kpanlogo drums, and the rhythms rock with the wonderful tunes and the amazing harmonies of the East York Choir. Jenny Crober directs them in a spirited manner and over the last few weeks of rehearsal we have seen them stretch and reach for perfection. Tomorrow I will perform a solo dance and a story at the concert. Toronto is waking up to Africa!

Guelph Contemporary Dance Festival

Jiwani is preparing for the GCDF Site Specific Series. To be honest that particular series is the best dance event of the entire festival because it takes place in the picturesque Exhibition park under a blue sky, with the tall trees and green grass as as our back drop and the audience as part of our act. This year four dances will be performed at different sections of the park and hopefully the sun will prevail.

We will be premiering a dance, Spirit Alive choreographed for the event and performed to original recorded music by Kwame Badoe and the live drumming of the Jiwani drummers. Spirit Alive is a prayer which symbolizes and celebrates robust life for Africa after the current tragedy of the HIV epidemic which seems to speak death and decimation for the continent of Africa. Yet we shall live, and robustly so! I have fashioned the dance after the Lamban dance of Guinea, the dance of the griots. Something about the jeliw speaks directley to me because deep down I resonate to the call of the griots . I am called to tell the stories of Africa.

On June 2nd and 3rd, watch out for Jiwani on the green grass of Exhibition park.

Women of Distinction 2007

On May 10th I dressed in red and joined the other 2007 Women of Distinction nominees at the River Run Centre. The air was filled with expectation, excitement and some nervous tension as the gems of Guelph community arrived and settled in at the Co-operators Hall. We greeted each other, complimented each other and did a mini tour of the stage and back stage, committing to memory the order of the events as they were expected to unfold. Then Bob Housser took the group photos, hundreds of them, making jokes while we blinked and blinked, our smiles pressed firmly on our faces.

Afterward we had dinner, exquisite offerings of vegetables in upended forks, growing in trays of grass. There was mango chutney, (correct me if I don't know what I'm talking about) sweet peppers, cauliflower and diverse vegetable dipping sauces. I sat with Elizabeth Cunningham, the very gracious Kathleen Schmalz and Judith Rosenberg. I sipped on sparkling Sprite, too excited to think of drinking wine.

At last we were called up to the parade of nominees. My category was first and my name by virtue of supreme alphabetical order, first. I heard my name, loud and strong and the next thing I knew I was stepping (gracefully, I hope) on my new pointy high heeled shoes - and I never wear thin stiletto heels. I made it and stood smiling at the darkened auditorium after I had coillected my nominee's plaque. This event is more gracious than the Oscars in this regard. Then when we had all gathered to thunderous applause we walked off stage and found our seats.

Then our category was announced and video clips of our interviews screened for all to see. Magic 106.1 and CJOY 1460 were the sponsors of the category Arts and Culture...."and the recipient is.... Adwoa Badoe!" I was delighted, thankful and in full respect of my fellow nominees. I shook their hands, hugged those close to me and went up to collect my award. Two minutes later I had given thanks to all of Guelph, the YWCA, my supporters, friends, family and God, the giver of talent and favour. Then I had photograph taken with my sponsor. Back in the auditorium, my excitement brimming over, I found myself sitting next to my friend Michelle Mohr. YES! It felt nice to win. The rest of the ceremony passed as the recipients were named for each category. Afterwards over dessert and coffee, I celebrated with good friends. Fule was there with my kids Wynne, Matthew and Stephanie. Anne Dance came with Binty and Kadi. Dorothy Odartey Wellington was there with Stephen Hennighan, Stephanie Nutting, Atsu Amegashie and Lucy Mutharia. Somehow I missed seeing Lila Engberg. The other women in my category were definitely most deserving and very gracious. I applaud, Catrina von Radecki, Janet Johnson, Kathleen Schmalz, Jessica Steinhauser and Patricia Patrick who won a lifetime achievement award. Jessica and I were wearing similar shoes. I'm yet to send her a photograph of our feet!

Since May 10th I have received flowers from well wishers and as a post script, Liz Sandals, MPP has sent a certificate of congratulations! I just received the statements my nominators and supporters wrote on my behalf and I am blown away.

Still blown away,
Adwoa

To Ghana and Back

Since my last blog, I have been to GHANA where my daughter and I spent a wonderful two weeks meeting family and seeing the sights in Accra and Cape Coast. My best times were meeting my old school mates from SMS, UST and finding them all well and doing awesomely. Notably I enjoyed the company of Slim, Alex, Ray, Charles, Josie and Davina and then there was my ex-room mate Darius. I saw the next thing at Alliance Francaise with Pete. Her name is Dobet Gnahore and she moves like a cat. She is a singer-songwriter, multi instrumentalist and dancer with a mean band and a meaner show. Her CD is Na Afriki and I own one. Move over Angelique!

Ghana at 50, there wasn't much left over to see, but Panyin outdoored her baby and on AL's behalf Snof claimed God-mother status for us all. It was so good to see the AL group, Akos and Tibs, Zid and Arnold, Zipporah, Elliot and Naana; Tawiah, Kosei, Naa Abena and the old girls of Wey Gey Hey. There was Kate and Bea and Rosemond whom I hadn't seen for all of twenty years! And then there was Robert! Wow! In two weeks I had seen all these and others including old Achimotans and Aliki.

At La Palm the kids swam while Ako and I sat under an umbrella which did nothing to curb the heat of the sun. Pete came and then Miki and Tawiah and their kids. We ate Banku and Tilapia, plantains and jolof. The malt was not cool enough but it was good to sit and relax.


Bojo beach was a new place to me and the sand was white and clean. The waves washed against our feet, singing praises to the sky. The sky was so wide, so vast, so full of freedom and I sang hymns and waded as far as my knees. I soaked my capris as far as my thighs. We played old school rhythm and rhyme hand-games while Stephanie and Essie pretended to swim. K. quarrelled with London boy and my nephew, Papa Fule brought his girlf friend to say hi. All too soon the afternoon was over with frantic calls from home, warning us of a tropical storm. We rode the canoe back to the main land and kesewa and I went adventuring at Kokrobite. We didn't find Nii Tettey Tetteh's Kusun, but we found the compound of Nii Tettey Addy. We didn't meet the great drummer though. Lost opportunity!

Cape Coast was quite the trip and I learned many life lessons in a day. We did the Cape Coast Castle tour and saw the museum exhibits. Then at Hans Botel we ate, while crocodiles swam lazily by and lizards skittered on concrete floors. I saw a hornbill, in bright primary plumage and songbirds flitting from tree to tree.

Ghana was the same and Ghana had changed. The Akosombo dam has declined in might and load shedding means hydro power outages on a regulated schedule. Everyone speaks of the declining rains but hardly anyone remembers that nearer the source of the Volta River, the Burkinabes have dammed the same river leaving only a trickle arriving in Ghana. Inspite of this inconvenience, life continues and people live as fully as they can. Generators come alive when the hydro-power goes off, giving expensive and enivironmentally unsavoury power to those who can afford it. All others contend with early nights in hot steamy Accra, pulsing with the hopes of millions of people in three piece designer suits and ties, riding four by fours or wearing second-hand oburoni w'awu tee shirts, with faded letters telling of another world- Molson Canadian... what animal is that?