Back from Itiopia encore

Had a wonderful time. Thanks to everyone!

Abby Lakew, awahdishallo!

I've loved these tunes ever since I heard 'em blasting from some bus driver's horrible soundsystem. She's pretty cute too.

Nollywood Babylon

While in Ethiopia, I spent quite a bit of time watching Nigerian films on a station called "African Magic". I also watched local Ethiopian films, but my Amharic is less than adequate. I could get the idea, but not the ins and outs. Nollywood films, on the other hand, were exciting, intense, hilarious, and, almost always, involving someone possessed. Tough to look away, I tell you.

I also saw an amazing paper at a conference in Durban, SA on the topic of spirit possession, feminism and Nigerian film by Adedayo Ladigbolu Abah of Washington and Lee University. The paper was called “One step forward, Two Steps Backwards: African Women in Nigerian Videofilm”. Speaking with Adedavo, she talked about just how much people in Nigeria and the Nigerian diaspora watch these films. The fellow in the trailer who says he watches three, five a day is not unrealistic. Heck, check out YouTube, and you can watch quite a few of 'em. And, yes, I can't deny that I wasn't happy when I saw the one titled Stone Love. 

Given the tremendous popularity of these movies, Adedavo said, we really should be taking a closer look at what they are saying and doing. This documentary might be a start--I'm dying to see it.

 

Dancing in the Streets

The other day I was talking on the phone with Symon Warwick, a.k.a. A Man Called Warwick. I was supposed to be interviewing him, which happened, but then we just went off in all directions talking about music. He's got an infectious excitement about music that makes me want to run out and listen to all sorts of new stuff. We got on to the topic of Rara, a type of Haitian processional music that's made with drums, horns called vaksin, cymbals, and tons of energy.

As Elizabeth McAlister, author of Rara! Vodou, Power and Performance in Haiti and its Diaspora, writes, Rara "is at once a season, a festival, a genre of music, a religious ritual, a form of dance, and sometimes a technique of political protest." Raras move people--both literally and figuratively. Dancing through the streets and countryside of Haiti, leading up to Easter, raras have made it to New York city, moving thousands of people through Prospect Park in Brooklyn. Rara is able to encapsulate the movement of a diaspora in a fitting cultural celebration. Hearing the kids saying "when we grow up, we're going to take over and continue this" is a demonstation of how Rara not only moves through the park, but it moves through generations. As someone who is interested in what music can actually do, Rara clearly is fascinating to me.

I'm hoping that the documentary The Other Side of the Water will makes its way to Canada soon, because I simply can't wait. The clip on the site isn't enough. Thankfully, McAlister has a treasure trove of rara photos and video on her website companion to her book.

Dancing in the street simply doesn't happen enough here in Montreal. In January, in Ethiopia, I was lucky enough to time my visit so I could be part of the Timkat (epiphany) celebrations. Each Ethiopian Orthodox church has a replica of the Ark of the Covenant. On Timkat, these Arks travel to large fields--in Addis the field is called Jah Meda (no relationship to the Jah of which Rastafari speak)--where they stay until the ceremonial sprikling of Holy water over the gathered crowds. After, the Arks are carried back to their respective churches, accompanied by dancing and drumming youth groups. Check around the 3:45 mark of the film below to see one of the dancing processionals. Frankly, the whole short is pretty great--it's a demo reel for a longer film about Ethiopian traditional music. I've searched around for more info about the film, but can't seem to find any...looks like it'll be pretty interesting.
In related street dancing news, Dave sent me the following video of what happens on Saturday afternoons in his neighbourhood. Clearly, Heringey is the place to be. I wanna know more about this, and I want to master the dance moves featured in the last few seconds of the video.

Buna and Big Business

$1.10: Amount per pound of coffee that growers receive after deducting costs

$160: Amount that retailers can make on a pound of coffee

Those who know me know that I'm a big fan of Stephanie Black's Life and Debt. It's a stunning film that addresses trade issues and their impact on Jamaica. The brilliance of the film is that it provides a direct connection between the real people who have been impacted so proundly negatively by world trade policy and those who come to vacation and experience overwhelming beauty of Jamaica. Utilizing a narrative adapted by Jamaica Kincaid, from her pointed and poignant essay on tourism in Antigua, A Small Place, the film attempts to break down the barrier between the resort compound and the reality many lives lived beyond those walls.

If globalization is supposedly about linking countries together in some economic matrix of sorts, Life and Debt presents an analysis of just how and for whom these linked relationships work. It's a moving piece of film making that forces the view to recognize his or her place in the matrix and encouraging awareness as a means to work towards change. Also, it's got a wicked soundtrack.

Much to my absolute and total delight, a new movie looks to provide an analysis of these very same relationships. In the director's statement for Black Gold, a film about coffee growers in Ethiopia, Starbucks, and supposed fair trade policies, the filmmakers write the following: "Our hope was to make a film that forced us, as western consumers, to question some of our basic assumptions about our consumer lifestyle and its interaction with the rest of the world." Now that's what I'm talking about.

It's all about making connections, and Black Gold looks like it'll do this. Now bring the film to Montreal already. Until that happens, watch the trailer.


Notes:

Not surprisingly, Starbucks has issued statements addressing some of the points raised in the film, and they've done this using the warm-and-fuzzy tool that is youtube.

Guardian Article on Black Gold and the response

I'm a dirty foreigner

When I was in Ethiopia over the past month, I kept a little journal, lovingly titled "complaining and field notes." There was so much to say that the journal rapidly stopped being so little. Anyhow, to keep from complaining about how sick I am right at this very moment, and how I wish I felt like I know I did in the attached photo (taken at Entoto in Addis, fyi), I'll provide a wee excerpt from my journal. It's not the most exciting...All the names have been changed, just because I'm that ethical. :)

By this point, it was 1pm and Tegistu thankfully gave me a ring. I met up with him on “the new road” and we went to Tele Club for lunch. I’ve been there with him for lunch before. As usual, the food is really good but the washing/washroom facilities are disgusting. I had a discussion with him about this and he said that it’s not in the culture to really care about that type of thing—though he did insist that in his new house, he is going to keep the shinte-bete clean!

Tegistu and I did a bit of a language exchange and then went to see Hailemariam to repay him for monies provided to the municipal government as reagrds the establishment of the school we're planning to build. This was cool because I also got to take a short trip to see the land for the school. It looks pretty good and is really close to a residential area so that kids won’t have to walk that far to get to the school. After joking around with some locals using my extremely limited Amharic, Tegistu and I went to the town bazaar. It was really weird when I got there because all sorts of people--and by this I mean hundreds--were waiting to get in and me, the white girl, drove straight in on the back of Tegistu's motorcycle. He told the guards that I was an honoured guest--"a friend to the community," if you trust my translation. I thought he was joking around, as he normally does.

The bazaar was made up of a bunch of business tents—like a chamber of commerce fair. You could buy pretty much everything: tvs, soap, shoes, raw beef, sheep, refridgerators, and beer. My favourite was the advertisement for Dashen beer: "Hangover Free!" As we walked around, the deputy mayor, Ato Wubatu, whom I'd met in previous municipal government meetings, walked up to me and said hello. I introduced Tegistu, but Ato Wubato dragged me over to see this large group of men in suits and asked me to sit down one of what appeared to be gilded thrones. All I could think of was how dirty--koshasha--my feet were and how my hair looked ridiculous. At this point, who sits down next to me but the Mayor, the Zonal Chair, and the public relations head for the region. I sat in the fancy chair for a while, was introduced to a whole lot more people as "the foreigner who is building a school in our town," which I tried to consistently correct. It's not just me, I said! It's Schools for Humanity!

I turned around to look for Tegistu—he'd been relegated to the back. “Na!” I called, ushering him over. He was laughing at how uncomfortable I looked. "See," he chuckled, "told you you were an honoured guest." I asked if we could go and get my filthy feet washed before I had to teach that evening. We then got up, walked around a little more, and then left, but not before the Zonal chair could say “see you at the office.” I suppose this means I must visit him tomorrow.

I washed my feet at Tegistu's house. He laughed at my inability to wash using a pitcher and basin without making a giant mess. I should probably practice this skill--it might make me a little better at it. As it stands, if I don’t have a shower or a bathtub, I’m a little lost. I asked if I'd looked stupid in front of the government officials. Tegistu's response: "You've looked better, especially your hair. But you're a forenge (foreigner). You all dress weird and don't seem to care."

The classes went well, considering there are about 100 students in each one (some sitting on other student's laps, the ground, anywhere really) more coordinating conjunctions and independent clauses. I’d really like to start at the beginning with the students and see if I could make any difference with them. It’s hard to tell after two classes, but the fact that they all remembered my name demonstrates that they’d probably remember a whole lot more if I was there for longer.

Tegistu and I were planning on going back to the bazaar, but it was closed. We tried the Fasil hotel for dinner, but it was also closed. I asked Tegistu if he wanted to come back to my hotel for food. "It's okay," he replied, yet I knew he meant "Yes." I tried to explain the difference between "it's okay" and "okay," one means no, the other means yes. In the middle of my explanation, we both agreed that English is really annoying. Regardless, we ended up back at my hotel for tibs. Pretty good food and good conversation, nonetheless. I ended up explaining chicken with stuffing, pork roast, Yorkshire puddings, bacon, and hotdogs to Tegistu. He’d never heard of them before. His final comment was hilarious: "I think that's the kind of food habesha (Ethiopian) ladies eat when they go to America. They all come back wofram." You can probably guess what he means.