Conclusions from a year in Kenya

Hello all,

It's been 2 weeks since I arrived home in the US from my year abroad in Kenya. As I'm trying to re-adjust and get used to first world luxuries again, I thought I'd blog about some lessons learned. 

~Toilets are optional. 

~Kenyans carry INSANE things on their heads. Liters of water, bundles of firewood, charcoal, flat pieces of wood that hold bananas and other fruits intended to be sold, a bag of clothes bought at the market, etc. 

~ Along that note, people are so crafty with the ways that they transport things. If I needed to transport 20 live chickens and two mattresses across town, I would most likely find a friend with a pick up truck. But in Kenya? Just fold that mattress in two (not the greatest quality, I assure you) and attach it to your bike seat with banana fibers. Next, strap those chickens upside down by their feet to the bike seat, then push the bike across town. 

~There are very few places with fixed prices in the town of Eldoret. "Mzungu prices," as ex-pats so lovingly coin them, are prices for white people that are twice or three times as high as what a local would get charged. Unfortunately, for many Kenyans, white skin means green dollar signs. I got pretty darn good at bargaining my way down to a Kenyan price in swahili. 

~If you give your number to someone, they will most definitely call you, and they will most defintely want to spend time together. Or in my experience, if they're a Kenyan man, they'll ask to marry you and go to the states with you. I should have taken a tally of proposals.  "Ma'am! Is it possible for me to marry you? I will accompany you to America!" As romantic as that is, thanks, but no thanks.

~Living in the present is such a gift.  As Americans, we put such emphasis on always planning for the future and being prepared, that I think sometimes we forget to just live in the present moment. Not that I think the Kenyan way is entirely productive (i.e. not planning much at all), but we could learn a lot from the way Kenyans appreciate the here and now. 

~Religion baffles me. I won't go into much detail because I want to respect differing views, but let's just say that living in a place like Kenya could really make or break your faith. Faith in humanity, faith in something higher, faith in goodness.  I continue to be astonished by the amount of people that have so little, but hold so tightly onto something higher. I think for many, believing that they'll see something better than the life they live here is the only thing they have to hold on to. 

~Silverware, like toilets,  is optional.

~Americans are so picky about funky smells and personal space. Kenyans bump into each other on the street all the time without uttering a flustered, "sorry!" They just go on their way and know that people bump into each other from time to time. 

~The effects of poverty and corruption are truly devastating. 

~Kenyans stare so blatently. I thought it was rude at first, but it's really just a matter of cultural differences. In America we are taught so early that's it's rude to stare at someone or something that's different from you.  Consequently, we almost do the opposite to be 100% sure we're not offensive; we see someone different and immediately look away. Well in Kenya, people stare. My gosh, they just stare, and boy do they ever rubber neck as you walk by.

~Certain problems, like not getting the pay increase you were hoping for, a hair dye not being the color you wanted, or your dog puking up whatever human food he ate last night, are really NOT big problems. I don't mean to belittle minor annoyances that can put us all in a funk, but I've learned that the issues that some people face on a daily basis are astronomical in comparison to what we might label as a problem.  Things like not being able to pay school fees for your children, being HIV positive without hope of ARV's, or eating a meal of rice and corn once a day and living on a hungry stomach are real problems. 

~I have taken soooo many things for granted all my life. Education, daily food and clothing, healthcare, a safe place to sleep...these are just a few.

Gorillas, Kenyan Tae-bo, and Hippos!

Hello all,

My dad recently visited Kenya for his second time. Many of you know he has been fascinated with, and increasingly good at photography over the years.  He took some OUTSTANDING pictures and was really able to capture some beautiful moments during our time together.  I'll try to keep the explanations brief and let you enjoy the product of his hard work.

We travelled to Rwanda and went on a gorilla trekking safari. We hiked through the forest until the guides found the gorilla family, and then we got to spend an hour with them! They were so human-like, we just watched as they ate, played, wrestled, and picked each others' fur!!! By far one of the coolest experiences of my life.

A silverback eating some bamboo.

Trekking through foliage...

A mama and a baby!!! Incredible.

My dad loved coming to the gym in Eldoret, where I spend a lot of time. This was a step-aerobics class I go to every Tuesday and Thursday evenings. Love these people, love this place!

Javan's (always packed) tae-bo aerobics class. How many Kenyans (plus me) can we squeeze in one workout room?

Thanks to donations from Meridian St. United Methodist, we were able to take 10 kids from Amani Women and Children's shelter into town to pick out a new piece of clothing each. We then took them to a restaurant where they had HUGE plates of fries and sodas. For several, it was their first time to drink a soda. They were so thankful, and we were so humbled.

Enjoying fries, chips, and good company. 

 Emily, Felix, and Reinhardt. 

 Precious, pint-sized friends from Neema Orphanage.  I go here once or twice weekly and teach American songs, dances and games. I usually end up helping with school lessons as well. They were so thrilled to perform lots of the songs I'd taught them for my dad.

Playing games and singing songs outside. This may have been "Ring Around the Rosie."

 This is exactly how I'll remember my year in Kenya. My dad captured such a sweet, candid moment here. 

 Baba yangu! ( my dad!)

We spent several days at a beautiful, vacation place called Lake Naivasha. We saw these hippos on a boat ride to Crescent Island, which is where the movie "Out of Africa" was filmed in the 80's. Consequently, the animals used in that film still live there, and are very used to humans. We went on a "walking safari" where you can get SO close to giraffe, zebras, cool birds and others. All the animals living on that island are herbivores, and they have no predators. Isn't that just the life!

 The best Dad. 

 I think a little something-something was going on with these two fellows...

Natives using large fishing nets to gather food. Don't worry, they do have pants on. 

We got the grant!!

Goodness gracious, great balls of fire! I blink my eyes and it’s almost June! The time has gone so quickly lately. It’s hard to believe I haven’t set foot on American soil for nearly 10 months. I’ve recently collaborated with Dr. Jim Lemons, one of the neonatologists at Riley Hospital for Children in Indianapolis, on a grant, which was my first grant-writing experience. I’m SO excited to say that we received the funding for 10 Kindle Fires, as well as support to purchase many game and song applications. The Kindle Fires are very similar to iPads, but are a fraction of the cost.  Many Child Life workers in US hospitals use iPads for therapeutic purposes to distract patients from IV pokes, dressing changes or other painful procedures throughout their hospitalization.  I’ve really seen a need for something like this here in Kenyan hospitals where there are often no anesthetics available for the painful and traumatic procedures that the kids go through.  Tending to hospitalized children’s emotional and psychosocial needs is so very important, especially in a setting where they are often abandoned, neglected, or forgotten.  The timing of receiving the funding coincided perfectly with my Dad’s recent visit to Kenya. We were able to have the 10 Kindle Fires shipped to my parents’ house in Indy, then my dad brought them over to Kenya.  Many an hour has been spent setting up the Kindles—registering them, downloading and organizing apps, etc.  It hasn’t been easy considering that the internet is still shaky ever since a ship’s anchor hit the fiber optic cable under the Indian ocean back in April and messed up the internet connection. That still boggles my mind.  This week I’ll be presenting to the Kenyan ward workers about the best ways to use the Kindle Fires therapeutically, what games/apps are best for which age groups/developmental needs, etc.  It’s a bit strange to step into this “techie role,” but I’m definitely giving it a shot! Anyway, just wanted to share that exciting news.  I’ll keep you informed as we move forward. It makes me so proud to know that these 10 Kindles will stay behind, and that hospitalized kids will continue to benefit from them even after I’ve returned to the states. 

I realized I’ve never had courage to take my camera out when I go into downtown Eldoret.  The streets are very crowded and there are pick pocketers.  And further, my run-of-the-mill digital camera, which your average American has, costs more than most Kenyans make in probably half a year of work, so I just never thought it was a good idea.  But when my dad visited we were driving instead of walking, so he was able to snap some really great photos that may give you a feel for what Eldoret is like.  Another blog post to come soon about dad and my adventures earlier this month!

These are boda boda drivers, they're like a bike taxi. You hop on the seat behind them, hang on for dear life, and they take you where you want to go.

Lots of people making their way through town.

It's common to see someone pushing a bike loaded up with TONS of things: charcoal, wood, chickens, bananas, you name it.

Lattes, beaches and music in South Africa: My rejuvenating 2 week vacation

SOUTH AFRICA WAS AMAZING!! I had a wonderful two week vacation visiting friends from World Youth Choir, an international choral touring program for young professional musicians.  I did two summer sessions of WYC in 2009 and 2010, so I hadn’t seen these friends for nearly 2 years. I know South Africa is still considered a “developing” country, but let me tell you, for all practical purposes it was definitely “developed” and on par with First World country living. I flew to Cape Town and spent several days with a dear friend there, Tessa, who is a music student at Stellenbosch. We went to an opera: Fidelio, Beethoven’s only opera, I believe, and I also got my fill of classical/jazz music by going to various student performances, rehearsals, and even a choir concert. I thoroughly appreciated all things having to do with the school of music, especially since I’ve been away from it for a while now.  I also spent lots of time on the beach, perusing cute boutique shops, eating at delicious restaurants and having lattes. I probably averaged 2 fruffy lattes a day….you just can’t get that in Kenya.  Tessa and I planned to go to the famous Table Mountain, but it turned out to be too windy for the cable car to take us up that day. Instead we opted to do our own sight-seeing. So much blue water, and huge, vast mountains galore…just sheer beauty.

                                            Wine tasting with Tessa

                                            My first mojito in almost 7 months! It was so good.

                                Beautiful ocean, and behind us is a gorgeous back drop of mountains, including "Table Mountain."

Next I went to Pretoria, which is near Johannesburg. I stayed with another good friend there, Lhente, and her hubby Reynhardt.  Both wonderful, hilarious, compassionate, musical people.  Lhente conducts various choirs, and I got to go with her to two rehearsals: a high school group and a choir of all boys ranging from middle school to high school aged. I absolutely LOVED sitting in on her rehearsals and seeing her in action. Lhente’s high school choir was so bright and fun, and they sang a huge variety of repertoire.  Most of all, I couldn’t believe how dedicated they were—can you imagine 4 hour rehearsals every Friday afternoon? For a group of high school kids?! Wow. Her younger boys group was also outstanding.  One of the boys gave me a tour of the school, and it was just like Hogwarts! Stunning old, brick buildings with head masters and uniforms and such well-mannered boys.  I’ve never been referred to as “ma’am” quite so many times. I told them a bit about what I’m doing in Kenya, answered their questions, (“Ma’am, are there black people in Kenya?”) and sang a tune or two for them, which I think they enjoyed. Anyway, it was so nice to see old friends-Charlotte, Eugene, Jaco, Gert, Tessa, Lhente and Reynhardt.

                                 Sushi with Lhente and Reynhardt                            

                                    Lhente's adorable boys choir

                                  Delicious lattes

               Reuniting with WYC friends: Reynhardt, Lhente, Jaco and me

       Just having a good old time with Lhente, Gert and Jaco

Being so “at home” in South Africa really made if difficult for me to come back to Kenya.  While I knew I’d be fine and get going again, there are just so many challenges in Kenya.  It seems like an uphill battle more days than not.  When I’m home in America, I know the systems in place, I know how things work, I’m competent and confident in most areas. Here in Kenya though, I barely understand the systems in place, there is so much corruption, the language is often still a barrier, and I  find that I’m so much more dependent on other people. I have to ask how to do things, where to go, how much it should cost, how not to get ripped off, etc.  And I always have to second guess people's intentions and watch my back.  Not to mention the time it takes to walk everywhere- that is definitely a major hindrance on my independence.  I also just get worn out from explaining what I’m trying to do with music therapy, and consistently justifying that it is a worthy cause, only to be greeted by blank stares.  How nice to let my guard down a bit in South Africa.  It was so rejuvenating to be surrounded by amazing musicians, in a school of music, going to concerts and operas.  It was almost as if I got dumped back into my life as it was 2 years ago, which is enormously different than what it is now. How comforting to be reassured that the power of music IS real, and it DOES change lives. I needed that boost.  Anyway, I’m back in Kenya and getting into the groove of things again.

Things I was oh-so-thankful for during my “First-World” vacation:

Pumpkin seed rolls

Fixed prices—not being ripped off because I’m a mzungu!

Lattes

Clean air: no dust and very little exhaust to breathe in

Ice in drinks

Toilet seats, actually everything having to do with bathrooms

Drinking from the tap

Not being a minority

People that smell nice

Beaches

WINE

Not looking down while walking for fear of tripping on un-even dirt roads

Friends’ cars-not walking everywhere!

Infrastructure

Stop lights…oh goodness, stop lights

People wearing shorts and tanks

Good bread

Lhente and Tessa’s fluffy, nurturing house dogs

Fancy restaurants

Baby spinach

Fresh fruits other than mango, papaya, and bananas

Wonderful friends who spoiled me rotten.

Obama's G-mama

The rainy season is here. Thank goodness for the rain to settle all of the dry dust.  The mornings are beautiful with clear skies, maybe 75º or so, and then in the afternoon it rains. Not a hard rain, not itty, bitty, stinging rain, not big ol’ fat rain, not rain that jumps up at you from below…(anyone catching my Forrest Gump reference here?) but just consistent, cold rain for several hours. A friend and I were coming back from a run the other day just before the rains were coming. All of the sudden we noticed these flying critters everywhere! Each one looked like a dragonfly with the body of an ant, and an absurd amount of wings. I’ve since learned that they’re flying termites, and many Kenyans eat them. Once they get rid of their wings they’re just normal crawling termites, so people collect them, fry them, and eat them by the handful with ugali. Ugali is one of the staple foods here-a starchy, thick, tasteless carb that’s usually paired with a vegetable or meat, in this case, fried termites.  I’ve yet to try this, so I won’t knock it. But let’s just say I won’t be seeking out opportunities to try this dish.

         A few weeks ago I went to visit an American friend in a village a couple of hours away from Eldoret, where I live. My friend, Laura, graduated from Duke Divinity School and is now volunteering with Global Interfaith Partnerships, a coalition of congregations based out of the US.  She’s living with host Kenyan families in the village of Chulaimbo and working at schools in the area.  I was excited to go and see what she is doing with the project, hopefully do some music with the kids she’s working with, and take a break from Eldoret in general.

         When I got to Chulaimbo, I immediately noticed the heat. Holy camole, the heat. I don’t even know how to describe it properly. It was a dry, humid, make-your-clothes-stick-to-you, heat.  You know how most Americans assume that the entire continent of Africa is 105º in the shade? That kind of heat. It made me so thankful that Eldoret is elevated so that we don’t get the hottest of the equatorial rays. The first day that I was there, we visited one of her friend’s mothers in a village about an hours walk away.  This Kenyan mama is HIV positive, and has had numerous secondary health troubles.  We sat in her stick and mud hut and shared conversation and laughter.  She was so thankful that we had taken the time to trek out to see her and spend an afternoon together. Times like that remind me there is true value in the gift of presence. 

         Laura had planned a couple of touristy things for us to do as well, one of them being a visit to President Obama’s Grandma. Obama’s G-mama! Rolls off the tongue nicely, I think. In order to meet her, you have to know a friend who knows a friend who knows a friend with a connection.  Luckily, Laura just so happened to know someone.  We made an “appointment,” what a strange concept in Kenya. Kenyans don’t “keep time,” as they say.  We debated about what to bring her as a gift.  We decided on banana bread, since there’s an abundance of bananas in the Chulaimbo area, and Obama’s G-mama most likely hadn’t had American banana bread.  When we arrived to her village, we had to show our passports at a gate with security guards, (fancy!) and were told specifically that we were not permitted to take pictures without her permission first. Obama’s G-mama is of the Luhya tribe, so she spoke only her mother tongue while another person translated.  When we asked her how her life had changed since her grandson has been famous, she said simply that the roads to her home have gotten much better (paved, even!) and that she has many visitors now-a-days.  She thanked us for the banana bread (more like a banana cake since we didn’t have the usual tin).  We also saw the graves in her yard where Present Obama’s father and grandfather were buried. It was a fun and humbling afternoon. It was also, just to reiterate, to leave no doubt, to accentuate the point, HOT. Swelteringly so. Taking a cold bucket bath at the end of the day felt soooo good, except for the fact that you just started sweating again the moment you dried off. I think the heat made me sick, actually, or maybe I had a stomach bug. I’ll spare you the details, but I definitely had a 24-hour period involving gastric explosions, a pit latrine, and many a cockroach. Let's just call that character building, shall we? Props for living there and not melting to a puddle, Laura. Mad props.

         My work at the hospital has taken a bit of a different turn over the past month or so. I was recently given an iPad for use with the children at Moi Teaching and Referral Hospital. Many Child Life workers in US hospitals use iPads for therapeutic purposes, and I’ve been teaching the Kenyan CL workers about these benefits. I was first exposed to this idea during my Music Therapy Internship at Riley Hospital for Children in Indy, which has an outstanding Child Life and Creative Arts Therapies Program.  Sharing these ideas and methods with the CL workers here has been a learning experience on both sides. I utilize the iPad to distract kids from IV pokes, dressing changes or other painful procedures when there are often no anesthetics available. The Kenyan CL workers have been very receptive to the idea of using the iPad, and have caught on to it quickly.  The kids LOVE it, most of them have never seen a computer or anything of that sort, so it is just absolutely magical to them. I’ll start at the bedside of one patient, then pretty soon I have 5 or 6 kids huddled around playing all sorts of games. I love getting family members involved as well. Nothing makes a child collapse into a fit of giggles like seeing a parent try to fling an angry bird at a pile of snorting pigs on the iPad.

         I’ve also been looking into some grant writing lately.  Trying to navigate the complex world of grant writing is a new and overwhelming task in and of itself, but I would love to get funding to provide numerous iPads in the hospital for use with the kids.  I’ve been collaborating with one of the neonatologists at Riley back home in Indy, so we’ll see. Cross your fingers, pray, rub somebody’s belly for luck, do whatever you do, but send us good grant-receiving vibes.  We submitted the grant March 15^th, and should hear by mid-April whether or not we will receive funding.

         Think that’s all for now. Our internet has been super unreliable and intermittent recently.  Apparently it has something to do with a ship crossing the Indian Ocean dropping its anchor in the wrong place and damaging the fiber optic cable that runs under the ocean and provides internet to all of Kenya, and several other countries.  Uhh, what? This just blows my mind. How did they get that cable all the way down under there? And where does it actually go? I bet it would need to be so big to carry all the bits of internet information back and forth. And what about the fishies, do they ever want to bite into it? I just don’t really get it. Good thing I do music. 

 Just kickin it with Obama's Grandma

 The iPad in action at Moi Teaching and Referral Hospital

A Voice Recital in Eldoret!

This blog is a continuation of the previous blog.  Where I left off, Jacki and I were preparing for a voice recital in a church in downtown Eldoret. (See most recent post) 

Jacki and my 4 days together were a whirlwind, and she was quite the trooper. We spent time at Amani shelter working on the choral piece with the kids, and many more hours collaborating and meshing our performance styles. I'm so grateful for outstanding musicians that can jump in, sight read difficult music, and make it happen. Without her, I doubt I'd have the chance to give a recital with that level of music, because the church musicians and most people around here don't read sheet music, they just play by ear.  I'd found a church that'd allow us to use the space for the recital. This isn't the kind of "church" that an American would picture. It was one room, on the second floor of a row of crowded buildings in town. They said we could come in the day before the recital, have the room to ourselves to rehearse and get a feel for acoustics, the set up, transitions etc.  All the necessary dress rehearsal type of things. 

When we got to the recital space the day before the recital, we found an interesting scene.  A LOUD radio broadcast of preaching was playing, and there were many Kenyans in the room. Some were reading the bible, some were praying, some socializing, and one lady in particular seemed to be having a rough day. She was kneeling in the corner, rocking back and forth and praying/yelling/crying. Hmmmmm sooooooo I'm just wondering, can I sing?!  I went around the room and greeted everyone. In Kenyan culture it is  rude if you don't introduce yourself and shake hands with people. And you can't greet just one person, you greet everyone.  So I introduced myself, explained that I'd be singing a classical voice recital the following day, and asked if they minded if I practiced now.  Everyone was kind and answered that they didn't mind.  The next question was the radio. I asked if it was possible to turn off the radio so that I could sing.  The man I asked was very hesitant, and said that he wanted to keep it on. He also said, "The other thing is, we still have people at work in nearby offices, so can you just sing quietly so you don't disturb them?" Seriously?! How am I supposed to get a feel for the acoustics?! It was an interesting dress rehearsal, that's for sure.  Once I started singing they did end up turning the radio down a bit so that helped.  We got the chairs and piano all set up how we wanted them,  and we were told they would remain that way for the next day.

WRONG. When we arrived an hour before the recital was to start the next day, all the chairs we'd set up had been removed, and were stacked at the front of the room. People were standing on the chairs and using them as a ladder to change the hung drappery at the front of the room. WHY it had to be that afternoon of all times that they chose to tear down the decorations and completely re-do them, I have no idea. So, we kept our cool, and tried to get some details of when things would be ready. I had put up posters advertising a start time of 4:30pm, knowing full well that that meant that my Kenyan friends would arrive somewhere between 5 and 5:15, and maybe we would begin by 5:30pm, an hour later.  So we patiently waited while they continued to hang new colored drapes.  Non-Kenyans began to trickle in around 4:30pm, and more and more people by 5pm. By 5:15pm or so we had somewhere around 80 people! Several street kids came in and were eyeing the cookies and punch that we'd set up at the back of the room for after the recital. I went up to them, introduced myself, and asked their names. They told me their names, and said they wanted cookies. I firmly said, "Ngoja kidogo. Nitaimba, halafu, tutakula sweeti." I think I said, "Wait a little bit. I am going to sing, and then, we will eat sweets." Those two little kids sat through the entire recital!! I thought for sure they would try to take some cookies and book it out of there, but sure enough they waited. I learned later that a friend, one of the women who works for the Orphaned and Vulnerable Children (OVC) program here, saw them sniffing glue from bottles hidden up their sleeves during the recital. She went up to them, grabbed the bottles and threw them away while giving a stern talking to the two 10-year-olds. All during my Clara Schumann piece. Crazy, crazy things happen here. But hey, I'm glad they heard some classical music, got their glue taken away from them, and ended the day with some cookies and juice. 

So anyway, the recital was a success, and a lot of fun. I was so honored to have friends from the Sally Test Pediatric Center, Neema Orphanage, Amani Shelter, and many others associated with the medical partnership all in attendance. 

Emily, Mary and Sarah from the Amani Shelter, plus Adi, one of my friends' daughters who joined our choir at the last minute, singing Yesu, kwetu ni Rafiki (What a Friend we have in Jesus.)

A Kenyan Recording Studio!!?

I had a wild idea. It started when Rachel Vreeman, one of the pediatricians here, contacted me about her parents' visit to Eldoret. Her mom, Jacki is a professional pianist and Rachel asked if she could shadow me and help out at the places where I'm providing Music Therapy services since it'd be right up her alley. Sounds great! After further thought, I had my crazy idea: Why don't we also give a recital together? I figured, if she's a professional pianist, I could have my oh-so-helpful parents scan music for her to practice before she gets here, I could get my voice into shape, and we could give a joint classical recital somewhere in Eldoret.  I also thought of including some of the kids I've been working with. It just so happens that my Aunt Sue had heard a choral arrangement of "What a friend we have in Jesus," in both English and Kiswahili, and had sent the sheet music over with my parents in December. What a perfect time to use it, thanks Aunt Sue! Jacki was a great sport, and agreed to give a recital of mixed voice and piano solos before we had even met.

Finding a place to practice was hard. I don't have a lot of privacy here, and even in my small servant's quarters (things are so dang colonial around here...did I mention that?) everything echos. Not ideal for someone who needed hardcore practice time and lots of lip trills to take my voice from "Old McDonald" back to Italian art songs, German lied, and a bit of vocal jazz. Dang. My voice felt like an elephant that just would not MOVE. I reminded myself that it takes time to get back into shape, but I swear, if you don't use it you lose it. I'd say it was comparable to trying to run a marathon after not having run in close to a year. Ouch.

I began teaching the girls at Amani Shelter the choral arrangement the week before Jacki arrived, and that was also a challenge. I have no experience teaching a group of American kids a 2-part choral piece, let alone teaching Kenyan swahili-speaking children who don't read music. We did everything by rote, in a call and response manner, and after a couple of days I felt like we were beginning to get somewhere.  This was quite the accomplishment for me actually, I was really proud of them and of our progress together. When we were in unison, the kids could sing the notes. When the piece divided into two parts however, we had some difficulties.  Which ever of the two parts I wasn't singing fell apart. This is where crazy idea number 2 came in. I realized I needed a way to record myself singing both parts separately, and then together so that the kids could hear how it all fit. I called Javan and told him my dilemma, and he of course, had a solution: he'd pick me up on Saturday and we'd go to a recording studio to make practice tracks to leave at the shelter.  Yesssssssssss a Kenyan recording studio!

One thing that I've learned in my time here is to make no assumptions. For instance, I realized that I should not assume that there would be an in-tune piano at the studio from which to get a starting pitch.  While brian-storming about how to come up with a tuning fork or another way to make sure I was singing in tune, my friend Chrissie, a physical therapist said, "Hey! I have a tuning fork that you can borrow!" Turns out PT's use the vibrations from a tuning fork to determine the degree of sensation loss in various patients. When she came down stairs with the tuning fork though, I burst into laughter. If you're a fellow musician you'll love the below picture of Chrissie's HUGE knobby tuning fork. Not quite the same as a musical tuning fork!




Anyway, we went to the studio, met the people, and they agreed to let me do some a capella voice recording.  I went in a tiny room that had one microphone (imagine the "Dreamgirls" mic from the 50's that all three girls stood around, then also imagine it being held together with duct tape....). It definitely was not sound proof either, but there were cardboard egg cartons lining the ceiling to provide some extra insulation. Thank goodness for the egg cartons. I'm bout to wail. We did some minimal sound checking, then we just started recording. We ran into trouble when I wanted to go back to a certain measure and do another take. The producer on the other side of the glass asked where I wanted to start, and I looked at my music and said, "Measure 42." This was greeted with blank stares....no one reads music.  So they asked again where I wanted to start and I just sang the place that I wanted. Between my horrendous swahili and their broken english, it was quite difficult.  I decided to do one take per track, and nothing fancy. I'm used to doing Gold Company recordings with some of the best musicians in town. And the producers are ALSO some of the best musicians in town, and it's a given that everyone reads music and communicates using technical, music-dork language. So this was definitely a cultural experience.  I spent  2 hours there and made three practice tracks: 1.) the English "A" section, 2.) the Swahili "B" section, 3.) the two-part combined section.  When it came time to pay, they gave me a ridiculous price, no doubt because I'm a mzungu. White skin around here means money. Thankfully, Javan knew this would happen (as did I) and he stuck around to defend me and argue for a fair price, which we finally got. Such a fun experience!!

More to come soon about the recital!