The Third Gambian Experience Part Four (If The Thunder Don't Get You Then The Lightning Will...).

Photo's from the top:-

3x from the soundcheck.

2x from 'A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall'.

1x from 'Welcome Barack Obama'.

Hadim & colleague.

Colleague and Jally.

Famara in suit.

Some of the crowd.

A couple of little monsters.

Joy's 'Cookie Krew'.

Cookie Krew in action.

Jalex in action.

Jalex and Mariama in action.

The gang with Jalex after the gig.

Kawsu and Jalex after the gig.

Must be morning...
I can hear the Mullah again, or if it isn't him it'll be one of his assistants and if memory serves that means it's time to hit the shower before the rising main decides to go cold and then give up altogether in about an hour's time...
Trouble is... I'm knackered and all I want to do is sleep but I know if I don't get up I'll be in bed till ten and that isn't going to do me any good at all...
The rollercoaster starts today.
Ain't no doubts about that...
Now let me tell you a couple of things about me and gigs...
I get nervous before I go on stage.
It's not that crippling sort of stagefright, but it does manifest itself in other ways and so it's always a good idea if I've got something to occupy myself with before it occurs, and it will occur at some point... Usually when I get to the venue or when I've changed into whatever I'm wearing on stage, and what's more, it never fails to happen.
I won't eat immediately before a gig and I don't drink anything apart from tea or soft drinks until I'm safely back home again.
I suppose it's a good thing in a way because when you get blase about things then you usually do a really rubbish performance so it does tend to keep you on your toes when you hit the mic' for the first poem or song or whatever ?
If I'm playing one of my regular haunts in the area I live in England it still occurs, so I guess it's just me ?
If I know a few of those in the audience then it's not quite so bad, as you can guage a reaction by what you've done previously and if you can make them laugh then you're winning, but tonight's gig is an unknown by any previous standards, so a nice quiet day just pottering about doing this and that and any and all inconsequential things, but nothing too taxing in the thought department and since we've sorted out our setlist we know what we're doing...
Well, that's the plan.
A couple of hours later, Joy turns up for breakfast.
She's been up most of the night with Famara, who, by the sound of things, has walked her halfway round the village and stopped in every (non alcoholic) bar for a coffee.
Poor thing.
If it isn't her thyroid playing up neccessitating an operation when we get back, then it's a form of narcolepsy which means she'll be animatedly rabbiting away and suddenly she'll go out like somebody flicked an off switch.
She'll usually be straight back into the conversation within ten to fifteen minutes but it can be difficult, especially for those unaware of her condition.

Something is bothering me but I can't quite put my finger on it and the feeling has stayed with me since we got here but it's beyond me what it is until Joy suddenly says that she wonders if they'll sell all those tickets ?
At that moment the penny drops...
I've seen them, too.
There are rolls of them piled in Haddy's bedroom...
Normally, if I'm promoting or appearing then I've done my homework and I know approximately who the target audience will be.
This time I haven't done any of those things.
I'm just the artist here and it's not my place and until I'm asked then that's the way it stays.
I've met the musicians we're working with and sorted out a setlist that suits both of us but the rest I've left up to other people...
I still haven't a clue what equipment we'll be using for a p.a. as a 'for instance' ?
so a quick prayer to the Gig God to please make sure we've got a couple of half way reasonable mic's, some foldback (That's a stage monitor so we can hear each other properly while we're on stage, for them as haven't a clue what I'm on about) and a couple of mic' stands, as I much prefer it static rather than hand held, and somebody who knows what they're doing behind the sound desk...
It's not a lot to ask but if you could see your way to sorting out any and all of my very (I thought) reasonable request, then I promise I'll be good and I won't deliberately 'wind up' the audience.
I do however, reserve the right to self defence in any way, shape or form and that includes verbally as well as physically...

As soon as breakfast is over Sainey turns up, and we also learn that even though it's friday night, since the gig doesn't start until 9pm we've lost most of the little ones as the vast majority will be tucked up in bed...
We've still got Ida and Mariama but we've lost the rest...
Damn !
To be honest I never even gave that a thought as everybody was going along with it but if I were one of the younger one's parents I would probably be thinking along the same lines...
Damn, damn, damn !
Oh well, it can't be helped and I do understand their concern so no worries and we'll get by with whoever we've got ?

Now I did think we were all meeting up at 3pm at the hall for the soundcheck but the 'doodle' that Sainey had been playing with all day yesterday has now become a fully fledged song... A little tentative perhaps but he's got it now and it surely ain't a doodle no more.
If you check your dates then you will know that a couple of days before we arrived a certain Barack Obama was elected as the new President of the U.S.A. and ol' Barack, being black, has galvanised opinion everywhere.
The fact that a black man has just made it to the top of the heap in the richest and most powerful country on the planet has become a talking point everywhere and not just Britain and the U.S.A.
People are talking about it in The Gambia, too, and Sainey has just written a song about it.
It's a simple little ditty sung and played in that rolling 'African' guitar style but it fits in with what we're doing so why not ?
As soon as we've got the breakfast things out of the way we clear the decks for action and the minidisk is out and ready.
If this song is going to be part of our set and I can see no reason why not as we're all in this together, then we're going to have to have it down to run through with Hadim and Jally when we get there ?
Sainey's confidence is quite high now the others have come on board, and for a septugenarian he's buzzing...
Two run throughs to get his vocals up...
Come on... You're on stage singing it... It's your song and you're happy with it and it means something...
Come on Sainey, sing it like you mean it...
And he does, and we get a recording, but sitting listening to the playback we know there is something missing but the big question is what ?
The song itself is ok but it needs that little extra something to make it stand out and suddenly Joy has an idea if she can remember the wording which she can't...
Oh well, that's that then.
'No it isn't... It's probably still on your 'phone' she says, looking at me...
So, twenty minutes spent going through old text messages (It's suprising how many you end up with if you don't delete that often) and I finally find it...
You know what ?
She was right.
A spoken intro' over a four bar guitar figure and after a couple of run throughs we're ready to record it to minidisk but...
It's lunchtime so we;ll break for lunch and continue afterward.
The problem with cheaper minidisks of which category mine is, is one of mono recording.
You have to make it into fake stereo on a computer programme.
It doesn't sound too bad once it's done but it sounds awful in playback when you don't have the facilities to do it there and then.
Bringing the computer extension speakers gives it a bit more depth but it's still only one channel. Oh well, it can't be helped, we'll just have to make do and we do get a recording.
It's not perfect but it's adequate and I tell Sainey that I'll have to work on it at home when I can get the computer programme I need off a friend (Hi Josh' See you when I get back).

All the guys go off for 3pm to let in the p.a. guy and to put out chairs.
Haddy, Joy, Sainey and I are supposed to be in the second car load...
Which would be great if he would only come back for us but 'Tufa is nowhere to be seen or heard. At 4.30 I tell Haddy that since we've got two musicians waiting for us then I'll get a taxi so she tries 'Tufa again on the 'phone and this time she gets through.
He's coming back for us now.
When we finally get there, Hadim is waiting for us but Jally is nowhere in sight.
Apparently he was there at 3.00 until 3.30 but since the p.a. bloke hasn't arrived and still bloody well hasn't when we arrive at 4.45, he's gone home to wait in comfort and although it's a pain in the arse, I can't blame him.
To be honest I'd probably have done the same thing if I were him ?
We started up a practice session with Hadim just to get Sainey's song in place and that was sorted after two run throughs...
Trouble is without amplification we're going to have to do it all over again when Jally gets back just to balance the sound of Sainey's vocals with Jally's kora.
At 6.30 pm a guy with a small p.a which looks somewhat like a disco outfit arrives.
It turns out he's a replacement for the original one who still hasn't turned up so at least we can get a soundcheck going which we proceed to do.
We've got two unmatched mic's and no stands and no monitors, plus not enough inputs on the desk for all of us and there's only five until nearly the end when we should have about fifteen to twenty on stage but even if we can't mic' up the girls in our 'choir', they are going to be loud enough to compete and probably to drown us out anyway, should they want to ?
It takes a bit of work but we finally get a sound out of the p.a. that we're prepared to work with so now maybe I can relax ?
Forget it !
There's a war going on outside and I can hear Haddy above the p.a.
Shit !
What's going on now ?
It turns out that the original p.a. bloke has finally turned up and expects to be able to just replace our replacement p.a. guy.
He's having a fucking laugh...
But the 'war' is getting louder with people screaming at each other and it's beginning to get on my nerves somewhat, so out we go into the fray...
Haddy...
Please tell me what's going on ?
Ok.
Turns out that this guy thinks he can turn up four hours late and drunk !!!!!! and run a p.a. and still do the job...
FORGET IT.
There is no fucking way that after a one and a half hour soundcheck I'm going through that again so do us all a favour and tell the guy to piss off.
He's an unprofessional twat and drunk too, and since it's my head that's going to roll if anybody gets hurt on stage I've always refused to work with drunks in charge of electrical systems...
Too much can go wrong and today's gig is no exception.
Look at it this way...
I've got two or maybe three nine year old's and a bunch of teenaged girls joining us later on that stage and I wouldn't have put my two kids up there, so why would I put up anybody else's ?
That guy is a danger to all of us.
The war is getting noisier and apparently the police have been called as this bloke is accusing our lot of breaking the contract...
WHAT ?
He's got to be joking...
"Ok people, listen up 'cause I wanna say something...
One. I don't work with unprofessional arseholes who turn up four hours late,
and Two. I certainly don't work with drunks behind a p.a. desk.
Got it ?
Good !"
To which his reply was 'Hey, fuck you !

WRONG !!!!!!!!!!

I have to mention Lamin who managed to get himself between me and the drunken twat because otherwise I would definitely have taken his fucking head off with the first punch...
Ooops...
Ok...
I freely admit I lost it and I seriously wanted to punch his fucking lights out.
It probably wouldn't have done any good and I'd probably have been arrested and jailed and all the rest if his friends hadn't killed me, but what the fuck !
Sometimes you don't seem to have an option and this was certainly one of those times...
I'm only ten stone and a couple of pounds soaking wet but it took three of our lot to hold me back and bundle me back inside...
Thank you Lamin, Kawsu and the other bloke who's name I've managed to forget (Sorry), where I was instructed to stay no matter what occurred outside...
and finally, after Haddy and one of the guys went to the police station, the guy was sent on his way...
Jally turned up at nine with one of Hadim's drummer colleagues who immediately blags the larger tambourine and tells us that he's joining us...

Shame that they missed all the fun but we integrate them into Sainey's song and we're ready to go, but they've not even opened the doors yet and won't until Haddy is back from the police station.
It's past 11.00pm when we finally get the nod to go on.
We were supposed to be starting at 9.00.
The all singing and dancing kids who have been practicing all week are on after us and Jalex is headlining after they've been on.
There's going to be a lot of tired people when this is over and that's a fact.

To be honest our biggest problem inside has been trying to get Mariama to leave off her skeleton outfit which she knows she'll be wearing in our first number and to keep it a surprise, but she's excited and it's a devil of a job to stop her from wearing it, but it will spoil the first number if she's seen in it before we go on so it's a constant battle of wills between me and Joy and Mariama.
Thankfully, I've calmed down somewhat and I'm ready to go but I've been like that since 5.30 this afternoon and it's nearly tomorrow right now, but at least I've changed, had a couple of coca cola's to put the sugar level up, and I'm ready for anything...
Ok, I'll quantify that...
I'm ready for nearly anything...
I just wasn't ready for what occurred.

Right... Skeleton suits.
Remember when I said I'd bought three of them.
One for Joy, one for me and the smaller one for Mariama, and I was going to keep the political aspect of my appearance within the set ?
We opened with a guy named Arthur Brown's ('I am the God of Hell Fire', for all those who remember 1968) and his shortened version of Bob Dylan's 'A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall' which is a nice happy song about World armageddon...
But I have to say it was very effective done in the skeleton suits.
Even through the plastic ears you could hear the audible intake of breath of the audience as the muso's riffed and Joy (In skeleton suit) sang the opening questions to Mariama and myself
'Oh, where have you been my blue eyed son...
where have you been, my darling young one ?'
and with Mariama and myself (In skeleton suits) we sang the reply and we're off and running...
Thank God !
Actually, going back to Arthur Brown for a minute.
I'd just like to say that we nicked our whole opening from his idea, because that's his first number when you go and see him live and his makeup and suit are absolutely brilliant... Besides, he's also got a better voice than me.
He just doesn't use the Mother/Father figure to share the vocals as we did, but does it all himself.
So credit where it's due, ok ?

So... A couple of poems, a couple of songs, a couple of poems, a song...
Something is going wrong...
We've got one heckler right out in the back of the hall who keeps calling for Jalex, who isn't even here yet, but is expected soon, plus we've got a guy on stage with us who shouldn't be there, and he keeps dancing round Joy and talking to her while she's trying to introduce her next item and I can tell it's not making her happy, until finally she gives up and just looks at him...
"Looks like she's telling you to fuck off from the stage, dude..."
He finally exits 'cause we ain't gonna, and she turns to me and says "That's it, I've had enough of this...'
Oh, come on...
Where's your attitude gone ?
You'd have floored the s.o.b. back in England, and thrown him off the stage yourself...
What's going on ?
Then the p.a. guy comes forward and asks if we can cut our set short because it's getting late and he wants to get Jalex (Who still isn't here yet) on stage as soon as possible, but we can finish off after he's been on...
WHAT ?
Joy asks me what it'll take for me to finish now ? and I think my reply was 'Something more than rifle fire...'
But she's adamant that she's not doing any more, fuck 'em !
Ok, ok, ok... I get the picture...
We'd just finished Sainey's 'Barack Obama' song and I'm not going to let it go like that, so we'll make the announcement and finish with something appropriate, ok ?
Which we do.
It was Richard Thompson's Time To Ring Some Changes, and even in this Joy decides to make things difficult by changing the words which throws me and the musicians all...
And so we bowed out.
But what really hurt was that we were leading up to the kid's bit as the following number featured the twins and we'd be adding to them with every other song and I felt let down because they'd practiced so hard with us and now they weren't going to be on...
Just who the fuck are we and me personally working for here ?
So I went to find Haddy to find out just what the hell they think they're doing, because there is no way whatsoever that I'm going back on that stage at the end after being cut short...
Fuck 'em !
And I went off like Vesuvius did at Pompeii.
I was definitely a pissed off little bunny.
Well... I think I managed to get their attention, because I totally blew my proverbial stack.
Loud ?
You could hear my explosion above the p.a. and I certainly wasn't nice about it.
A couple of minutes later the guy who'd been on stage was ejected from the main gate along with a friend of his.
It turns out that the second one was the heckler and he was drunk... and I was told that the p.a. company shouldn't have let the guy get on stage (tell me about it) and he had no right to cut us short (tell me 'bout that, too).
I work for promotors... I don't work for p.a. companies.

Listen people, and I'll tell you something about people who get up on stage.
One. You don't let anybody on that stage once the act is under way.
Why ? Because they don't have a clue about stage safety and performer safety.
It just isn't done.
Not in England, not the U.S.A, not Germany, France, Japan, Australia or even The Gambia.
You get them off using any means necessary and if that means using a headlock or a guitar wrapped around their head, you do it.
Two. If you have two sets of open stairs leading up to the stage then you position one person on each with orders not to let anyone past under any circumstances.
Three. Once the gig is underway only the performers control the stage, and if it's the performers who are messing about, then the organisers cut the power to the stage.
It's as simple as that.
And it works everywhere in the world...
Sorry...
Nearly everywhere.

I then get the crap job of looking after our musician's instrument's while the rest of the gig gets underway.
Still, someone's got to do it, but truth be told now I want out, and as soon as is humanly possible. So when Joy comes over and accuses me of having a lack of respect my jaw hits the ground...
Lack of respect for this, lack of respect for that...
Whoa !
Hang on just a minute...
Yes, I swore when I hit the roof.
No, I shouldn't swear in front of Mariama or Ida, but who was it who disrespected our musicians
or our choir of kids who were actually looking forward to appearing with us by walking off the stage mid gig ?
Who was it that is so tied into the 'blackness' of the people and the country that they had to disrespect me by quite deliberately screwing up the words just to get their own way quicker ?
You wanna talk about respect then let's talk about fucking respect, but you better have a fucking good think about it before you accuse me of a lack of it.

I came out here at my own expense to do a couple of gigs to raise money for a local youth club because it's run by some friends of mine and I believe in what they're trying to do...

I didn't come for a fucking holiday... It's work, and that's why I'm here... You better start thinking why you're here, cos I'll tell you straight, I don't fuckin' know anymore ?
Sometimes that girl's pompous arrogance gets on my tits and this was definitely one of those times.
When we are on stage with whoever else we are using or who are using us then we are a self contained unit. Everybody else is an outsider.
Anybody WE wish to join us is part of it too, but it's our decision.
That's the way it is and that's the way it always has been and that's the way it always will be.
If you step out of that then you shouldn't be on the same stage.
Yes, The Gambia is different to England but I certainly don't disrespect the people.
Ninety nine plus percent of whom are some of the nicest people I've ever met on this planet, so if I blow up it's because I have a reason to do so and it's certainly not a disrespect thing.
As far as the drunken and late p.a. bloke is concerned, I wouldn't have worked with him in England and I would have said exactly the same as I did tonight.
I dislike that unprofessional attitude immensly and I really don't care who knows it and I won't work with anyone that disrespectful of me that they think that they can get away with it.
I wouldn't do it in England and I won't do it in The Gambia either.
It's a musician stage performer thing.
You know what ?
I spoke to Jalex after he'd been on and he couldn't believe what had occurred.
It just doesn't happen.
Trouble is, it did.

I missed the kids dancing as I was still guarding the instruments outside but everyone told me they were good, so that's cool.
I'm not going to go on about Jalex performance.
The guy is a singer and rapper and is great and not only that, he does it all in Mandinka and it all makes sense to non-Mandinka speakers...
He can dance a bit, too.
He deserves to be a World superstar because he's definitely THAT good.
Only time will tell but he's beginning to make waves in England and Scandinavia and I sincerely wish him luck.
Go and see him if you get the chance, he's well worth it, or check him out on this link
http://www.myspace.com/jalexgambia
Or you can find him on Youtube and a few other places if you punch Jalex (Akuntu) into google or yahoo or whoever your search engine is, but his myspace is as good a place to start as any.
He's a nice guy, too...
Cut It...

We finally left the hall at about 4.30am.
It was dark but dawn was creeping up on us.
One car and about ten people, so Haddy and I walked it with Kawsu, Lamin and some of the guys, while Joy and the girls, including a very tired Mariama got in the car.
"What's the matter ?"
Like I didn't know.
No answer.
"Ok, I'll try another way... How much did you lose ?"
No answer.
"Haddy, I know you lost money on the gig, so how much ?"
"Seven thousand five hundred dalasi..."
"Have you got the funds ?"
"No".
"Ok, keep me awake and take me to the bank as soon as they open and I'll sort it".
As we got to the turn off from the main road, the local mullah started up...
"Come on, or they'll be no hot water left..."
At least I got a grin or maybe it was just a grimace that time but at least it was a reaction

We made breakfast for the pair of us when we got back while the girls went to bed and at nine o'clock I was in Standard Chartered, and by 9.15 Haddy had the funds to pay for the gig.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed for a couple of hours...
Trouble is, I couldn't sleep because I was still 'up'.
It's not a drug thing, it's an adrenalin thing and there had been no release.
It would have to go naturally over a period of time and until it had there would be no sleep for the wicked, or anybody else for that matter.
We've got another gig tonight with all the schoolkids if any turn up and this one's in the street...
I wonder what'll go wrong with that one ?
Ah... The perennial optimistic cynic has just surfaced.

The Third Gambian Experience Part Three (Get Ready).

Pic's from the top:-

I think it's a relative of The Kankurang or maybe one of the twins getting ready for their Al Jolson impersonation.

Proud Parents. Ida, Omar and Amadou.

Sainey (guitar) and Jally (kora).

Hadim (Drums... Well, Djembes actually).

Counting in the kids for Jacob's Ladder.

(I took the top shot and Joy took the rest, completely forgetting to redate her camera...)

So...

Out we roll into another day...
It's all go 'round here.
Rush, rush, rush...
Shower...
Dry Off...
'Yes, I'm up... I'm just pulling some clothes on... Be out in a minute...'
The twins are off to catch their lifts to school but then I've driven passed theirs and it's about five miles away.
Mariama is just hanging around for a couple of her friends before she too is off.
Sainabou is starting off the charcoal burner for whatever we are eating for breakfast and Pussy is getting underfoot because she wants feeding too before she feeds her brood of four kittens.
'Tufa has been rung to go and pick Joy up but Joy's walked it anyway, stopping to be greeted and to greet all and sundry along the way.
The way that is going I'm suprised she even got here today.
It's amazing how the word spreads around.
Fried fish, a bit of salad and the usual baguette from the shop over the road and that's us done after a couple of cups of tea...
Now all we have to do is wait for the guys to get here and we're back to school again and we're due there at approximately school assembly time which is 8.20 am.
This will be the last of the school trips and replaces the scheduled appointment of yesterday, but that couldn't be helped as pupil's welfare should come first and it did.
The guys turn up just after eight and we all pile into the car and away we go, back up the road, through the potholes, keeping a weather eye out for goats, donkeys, chickens, dogs and children...
All of whom seem to go to school by themselves.
Something which it would seem our little Traceys, Justins, Britneys and Osamas have got out of the habit of doing...
Not that I'm having a dig.
Much !

Anyway, we got there in time, addressed a couple of classes with the headmaster's permission and that's it...
The advertising, short of a projected radio interview which is, or isn't happening, depending on who I'm talking to, is now at an end...
We've done our bit.
The radio station is round about 6pm tonight if it occurs ?
So...
School is over and the next stop is the Standard Chartered Bank at Westfield to change up some travellers cheques and then to hit the supermarket and spend a bunch of it.
I like Standard Chartered as a bank.
Not only am I getting used to their system but the bloke I have to see remembers me from five months ago and when I ask him how bad the rate is ? He tells me that it might be bad but it's one dalasi better than it was yesterday...
'Now if I remember, he has to go off and authorise the cheques before I can join the queue for the counter... ?'
I remember.
But it's painless and he's soon back.
Next time I go in I might as well ask him about opening an account as travellers cheques can be a pain sometimes when they are seriously busy, and it would be so much easier just to queue with the rest of the population.
Still... Mission accomplished so it's off up the main road to Right Price...
(Thank you, thank you, thank you to the British couple back in the departure lounge in July who told me about them)
The thing about this supermarket which I might point out sells wine, spirits and beer (which is always a plus when abroad) is that it sells Golden Virginia tobacco as well and it's a lot cheaper than it is back home... Even in the duty free shop at the airport but that's not a suprise to anyone from the British Isles, is it ?
If it's food we want, then we'll use the one opposite whose name I've forgotten.
So it's ice lollys all round and cans of ginger beer, which in this heat are true godsends and since the guys are all Moslem, makes perfect sense and tastes better than most of their fizzy soda water drinks.
When I first started offering the stuff around it was looked upon with suspicion from those who'd never tasted it because of the word 'beer', but as soon as they realised it's called that because of the brewing process rather than having any alcohol in it (It doesn't) and it's quite refreshing to drink when the weather is warm...
Ok, when it's hot then, but either way it's still a refreshing drink and I seem to have got them all hooked... Family members too.
I know they probably won't drink it if I'm not there but while I am I don't mind buying it for all.
Joy and I are supposed to meet our band members today for a run through and practice session. We've been told we'll be getting some for our set, but in all honesty we haven't a clue ?
It's about midday when we finally get back to Haddy's compound and Sainey, our guitarist to be, is waiting for us when we arrive.
Sainey's brought along his acoustic, which looks as if it has seen better days...
It's battered and scarred all over and looks as if it's going to spring apart at any moment but it's how it's played that is going to matter to us.

When I first got the news that the gigs were on and I'd decided to fly out and do them, I had sorted out a set that I could do solo or with musicians depending on whether I could get any ?
It was a mix of music and poetry and was based around what you can do with a human voice which has to be the most important musical instrument anyway, and to involve the twins and some of the local kids from the village in it if they wanted to be part of the thing.
Oh come on...
Work it out for yourselves, it's all about communication and that makes the voice important.
(I can hear the ego monsters who think they can play their instruments a bit, screaming 'Oh no it isn't' in the background)
Half the stuff I listen to at home these days is foreign and I don't understand a word of it without reading the translations in the cd slick but it communicates and you find yourself singing along with it whether you understand it or not ?
The arrangement with the musicians however, is definitely the key to success but the voice or communal voices, as in a group format, is what makes it popular in the first place as that communicates first and foremost...
Got it ?
Good.
So... What are we gonna do then ?

I was wandering through Tescos, as you do, just before Hallowe'en and I saw these skeleton masks on black fabric that you can wear as part of a costume and not only that, but they had the hands too...
So the thought synapsis went into overdrive and I immediately knew what I was starting my set with, and why... ?
(It does help when you wear black on stage)
Sometimes you get the opener and the rest falls into place just like that, and it had done for me
in this case.
I'd previously said to Haddy that I wasn't prepared to compromise my set if I did it and the political stuff was going to remain in, regardless of whether people liked it or not ?
The question was, how to make it 'entertaining' in a totally different society than that we have in the West ?
Would it work ?
Who knew ?
But I was going to do it anyway.
Then, when Graeme had to drop out and Joy came on board I had a co-vocalist and so we could do more musical items.
Generally speaking, within the context of using music onstage, I am more of a minimalist.
Every time I've used musicians, whether with Kocaine, Bass Relief or The X-Perience we have gone for less rather than more, but that probably has more to do with the fact that I'm not a musician.
I can 'arrange' it, but I can't play it.
Still, I'd worked with Joy in two of those outfits so we both knew what we could accomplish together and she was and is still one of my favourite people to work with on stage so I'd shown her my set and asked if she wanted to come on board for any of it and add anything she wanted to the mix ?
She brought up a couple of interesting possibilities including a stunning version of 'Amazing Grace' which she'd nicked from one of my Ani Difranco cd's.
So long as we don't have to do yet another crap version of Bob Marley's 'Redemption Song' like the vast majority of dodgy cover artists then I'll be happy.
The song is great but you can't do a lot with it except sing it badly.
Bob's recorded solo version comes from the heart and you can hear that in his performance, but the 'covers' all come from the head and you can hear it all the time and I really dislike crappy cover versions without a shred of individuality.
If you can't cover it and make it your own then don't try, is my attitude.
I'd sooner do 'Get Up, Stand Up...' as it rocks out and you can do a lot more with it...
Besides which, in this day and age it makes a lot more sense whichever side of the line you stand and when I'm on that stage then I'm on that line...
I might be right or I might be wrong but at least I have the courage of my convictions, and which dickhead was it that uttered the line that 'Politics does not belong in music' ?
You think that line ever bothered any of the 'Greats' ?
Did it ever bother Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, Bob Marley, John Lennon, Nina Simone, Howlin' Wolf, The Clash, Fela Kuti, The Sex Pistols, Leadbelly, Woody Guthrie, The Staples Singers, Pete Seeger, Miles Davis, John Lee Hooker, Christy Moore, N.W.A.,Tom Lehrer, Public Enemy, Bruce Springsteen, Youssou N'Dour, Joan Baez, Johnny Cash or even the good ol' Grateful Dead who, apart from one track late in their career, never even mentioned political matters on stage and yet because of the freedoms they seemed to espouse with their seemingly 'alternate' lifestyle, were as political as they come ?
And what about those quintessentially English lads from Dartford ?
Who breaks a butterfly on a wheel ?
I think it was Plato who said something along the lines of 'When the mode of the music changes, the walls of the city shake' ?
Perceptive old codger, wasn't he ?
Come to think of it, what about George Frederick Handel who had to come to England from Germany to make it ?
Or Shostakovich, or Stravinsky, or Haydn or...
No, politics has always been part of the musical spectrum... always has been and always will be and as for spoken word artists ????
Now you might not like them all or any for that matter, but what about Lenny Bruce, Lord Buckley, Peter Cook, Lily Tomlin, Richard Pryor, Billy Connolly, Ben Elton, Dick Gregory, Bill Cosby, Robin Williams or Jo Brand ?
Without politics these artists would mean as much as the next winner of 'The X-Factor' which is as close to 'Fuck All' as anybody can come.
There...
I've said it...
Hallelujah !

Anyway, I've deviated somewhat from the script...
Sainey, our guitarist to be, is waiting for us when we get back and because time is short he's invited for lunch and we get to discussing what we'd like to do.
Now soundwise, on his acoustic anyway, Sainey is a typical African guitarist in that the sound sort of rolls from the guitar.
Those of you who own Paul Simon's Graceland or anything by The Bhundu Boys will have more of a clue as to what I'm on about here...
It is a sound common to most guitarists on the African continent.
It ain't a rock'n'roll sound whichever way you look at it and it's certainly not 'rawck' as the old Nuzz Prowling Wolf would have it but it certainly has possibilities...
The problem is that Sainey can't see it.
We run through a couple of accapella versions of things but he is stumped for an arrangement so we'll have to see what happens when our other muso's turn up ?
Apparently we are getting a drummer and a kora player too but they are working until late afternoon and will be coming over later so we keep on trying with Sainey until they arrive which they eventually do at dinner time...
Hadim, the drummer, has two Djembes, and Jally the kora player has brought his 'African Harp' as it is known occasionally and so the five of us settle down to chat about arrangements...
The ginger beer situation is now down to zero but now we're really cooking with gas...
It must have been very difficult for Sainey faced with these two weirdo's from England to even project an idea but now the other two are involved he's coming up with ideas of his own as are Hadim and Jally and we've managed to sort out arrangements for three numbers within a couple of hours.
The problem we now face is that I've got to leave for the radio station interview and the kids are starting their all singing and dancing practice outside while we monopolise the lounge and
that isn't particularly helpful.
Joy says she'll do the radio if I'll take the practice and I would but it's not her name on the poster so on that fact alone it's a no goer...
I'm doing the radio because if I don't it might not be taken as seriously as it otherwise would be, so she can run the practice until I get back which, seeing as the radio station is at Westfield, a couple of miles up the road shouldn't take longer than a couple of hours...
(This is me totally forgetful of the fact that we're on Gambian time).
Kawsu, Lamin, 'Tufa, Haddy and I are the guests on the 'Health' show and seeing as the gig with Jalex is a fund raiser for the youth club to do with the local youngsters sexual health, it seems appropriate.
An hour later than the timing that we've been given, we finally get ushered in for a half hour show.
I'm trying not to be blase about the interview but I've done them before on both sides of the fence as a radio producer and as an artist, and this one was no exception to the rule.
It went reasonably well and Haddy and the guys got their points across well.
The interviewer and the DJ asked all the right questions and I bunged the DJ three free cd's as we left, with a serious warning NOT to play any of them on air unless he's checked the tracks first.
(I'd copied my official release from 2003 and given Joy some recordings that I'd had of her to fashion a release from and it had come together quite well. The other was a live set from Bass Relief at Rhythms Of The World Festival 2007 which we'd always liked as a gig even though the recording could only be considered Lo-Fi and suitable for download if anyone wanted a copy, but we'd printed that on the sleeve anyway and in the absence of anything else between us, it was us with musicians and we were giving it away while we were in The Gambia.
(The cynic in me says that it'll get pirated and bootlegged all over the continent now that we've done that)
All three were live recordings from either club or festival gigs...
These generally have adult audiences and both of us tend to cater to them and we both speak to audiences in the language that adults use and the audience understands and if that means the odd swear word gets used as they do occasionaly in conversation then that is not unusual)
He grins as I leave and says he appreciates the warning...
No problem.

When we arrive back it seems that half the village had heard it on their radio's so at least we'd got their attention...
(Excuse me while I just stroke my own ego for a moment...)
and not only that but a few of them actually came up to me and said that they'd really liked the poem I'd done 'cos it had made them think...
YES !
Sometimes it is so gratifying when just one person stops you and says something like that because it means that you have actually communicated something to somebody outside of their usual thought parameters...A different way of looking at things... That sort of thing, anyway...
But to have a good half dozen ?
That has to count as a success, and yeah, I was pleased about it
(Come on id... Down you go boy... Ok, I think it's under control now...)
Sorry, but it seems so strange writing about it that I can't really take it seriously because it does sound so po-faced, but when it actually occurs in reality it really is a great feeling...
You'll just have to take my word.
It was entitled 'A Four Letter Word Beginning With 'F' and if you want to read it for yourselves it is on a site called More Writing and you should be able to get there by clicking on this link...

http://www.morewriting.co.uk/work/20343

(And in an absolutely blatant plug to get others to read some of the other stuff, just click on my name while you're on the page and a whole lot comes up along with comments and reviews...
Join and add your own, why don't you ?)
While we'd been away Joy had got pretty much the whole set sorted out except for the one that's going to involve the younger ones and we'll have to wait for them to finish dancing outside before we get them and time is getting on...
Finally Mariama and Ida lead a bunch of them inside to try out their bits...
And it works...
Not only that but it works like a dream.
The sound that I'd heard in my head when I'd first suggested it is just amplified by these kids and their untrained voices.
Ok, the track we were going to use them on is our version of Bruce Springsteen's version of Pete Seeger's 'Jacob's Ladder' which is as gospelly and as raggedy arsed as they come...
Bruce's version is ragged but spot on musically, and the raggedness of his arrangement fits the song like a glove.
We have a lot less in the way of musicians but a hell of a lot more voices and I'd figured that sound wise, one would work as well as the other and after two run throughs we're rocking and we couldn't shut the little ones up...
Ain't it great when a plan comes together ?
Then the parents turn up to collect their children and it slowly quietens down somewhat, but only somewhat, until our three musicians leave us after making arrangements to meet up at the soundcheck at 3pm tomorrow afternoon.
I'm knackered...
'Time for bed' said Zebedee.

The Third Gambian Experience Part Two (More Questions Than Answers...).

And because I forgot to upload the photo's in reverse, the whole day looks backward... so in pictures we start with the evening and work toward morning and the words follow the right sequence... I'll re-input them later.

Photo's From The Top:-

Dance party.

Mum and son.

Amadou and another proud mum...

Pussy's kittens.

The girls turning up after school.

Ida, Baby Omar and Mariama.

So shall we ?

We could...

2x shots of 'Roots' Infants.

It's about a quarter to six am and now the chickens have started the cockledoodledooing along with the two local mullahs calling the faithful to prayer.
You know what ?
It really irritated me when I first came out here back in January because my sleep was being disrupted and although I still feel like that after a long late night there is something comforting about the sound of the mullahs.
I might be a visitor to what is still a strange or maybe different type of society to those we adher to in Europe but still and all it is something I've never really thought about before, and getting your head round it is pretty easy if you just go with the flow.
All the locals that I know from Kawsu through to Ebrima and Lamin will ring up or run over to the compound to apologise that they will be late for whatever is going on if they are going to the mosque.
They go when it's convenient and fit in their prayers when they can and I'm quite sure that their God understands and is quite tolerant about it.
I'm sure he realises that sometimes you have to put food on your family's table and rigid adherence to time is going to make innocent people suffer unnecessarily.

Unfortunately, rigid adherence to time is what we're all about this morning so it's a careful roll out from under the mosquito net and into the shower where those that had given up trying to get through the net are all sitting around complaining that they haven't been able to stick the old proboscis into my pale white flesh, when guess what comes blundering into view ?
The shower is a whirl of arms, hands, fingers,legs and droplets of water, with me fighting back against any and all incoming insects with a hatred and a vengeance I customarily reserve for those trying to do me harm...
When it's done we're about equal. I know I've been bitten at least once but I've mashed three of the little sods into the shower tray and Haddy will be about them with the insecticide when she goes in, so it's bye-bye mosquitos... and anything else stupid enough to hang out with them.
Today we are to visit some of the local schools to ask if any of their pupils would like to be represented on the second gig ?
Either singing, dancing, waxing poetic, small playlet or somesuch from their imagination either as a school or as individuals ?
Joy and I are going with Kawsu, Lamin and 'Tufa and we've been screened as this sort of thing needs the permission of the principal or headteacher and they've got the piece of paper so as soon as Joy is brought over and breakfast is choked down, we're off.
First stop is Roots Infants School, and we (The guests) are allowed to take a few pictures of the pupils who will go on to steal the show...
What really impresses is something intangible.
Not only are their manners impeccable but these youngsters, and they are quite young, are so polite and quick... A bit shy as children of that age tend to be when with their teachers, but there's a willingness to listen and learn that we in the west seem to have lost completely, and when they sang one of their songs for us there was seriously not a dry eye in the house.
We take our leave from Roots and head off up the road or what passes for it, to the next school on the list leaving the infants for the juniors.
Joy and I are invited to speak at this one, so hopefully after Kawsu and Lamin have outlined the programme we'll try and get the message across...


"The heart and soul of a country is defined by the people who live within it. This definition is not given by the teachers or the politicians or the leaders of a country, this soul is defined by the artists who work within it.
Those who paint... Not for the tourists but for themselves.
Those who would challenge the thoughts of the day with their writing or their performance, or those who would challenge it with song or music...
These people define the culture and the soul of a country, for it will be their work that is remembered in the centuries to come which defines the era in which they have lived and that is true from The U.K. to The U.S.A., China to The Gambia and all places inbetween.
It is their vision that will endure for some of those visions will travel the world and be remembered in places other than those in which the seed was planted.
The seed might have it's roots in The Gambia but the vision of the artist will be just as relevant in other countries and when these things occur there is no stopping them until it is like a wild fire consuming everything and everybody until the whole world has, if not seen that vision, then at least heard of it.
There will be those who oppose your vision... There always are.
They are frightened of something upsetting their own little world which normally involves power...
It is up to you how far you go to appease them if at all ?
It is a smaller world now since the days of your parents and grandparents and with the advent of the computer anybody and everybody can take their work and their vision to the world...
They do not even have to travel, and since that is what Joy and I do in the U.K. we would like to invite those of you who have those visions to share them with the rest of Fajikunda and The Gambia...
It is a first step and a first step only...
Some of you will complete your studies and go on to become doctors, nurses, lawyers, scientists, teachers architects and politicians...
But some will become artists, performers, playwrights, singers and musicians...
Cultural ambassadors for your country throughout the rest of the world.
The whole world is open for you to conquer with your talent, so please, think about it with your friends, families, teachers and if you have that vision please come along and share it with us at the crossing before Rex on Sunday..."

It was about the longest speech I can ever remember making but it is what I honestly feel so I went for it with differing variations in every school we visited... and the kids were listening.
One lad even asked if 'comedy' was permitted ?
"Everything is permitted for we are beyond the normal rules which govern these things...
Your only rule now should be to let 'your' imagination govern your work".
The seed is planted... Now the nurturing begins.

Four Schools in the morning...
Our only failure was with St Charles whose headmaster was out on an emergency with a pupil but we made arrangements to come back the following day in the morning.
There was no doubt some of our vocal addresses had been more successful than others but then that is the nature of things with this sort of thing...
Some are more receptive to it than others.
The really good thing was the questions.
Some of the kids who heard us started putting their hands up and asking questions trying to define the parameter of what they were about to do.
Could they critisize ? Could they make fun of... ?
Could they talk about H.I.V and A.I.D's ?
If they wrote a play could their friends be in it ?
Could do their own rap ?
Yes, yes, yes, yes...
The only no is to restriction of your vision.
You knew by some of the questions and the facial looks on the pupils when the answers hit home...
I knew one young girl would turn up and do something as soon as she'd asked her question.
The same with a young lad who we'd already marked down as the class comedian...
You just knew...
Didn't have a clue of what they were capable of, but you just knew that the pair of them had things they wanted to say and these couple of mad visitors from the U.K. had just given them the chance to come on board and make it official under the auspices of a local youth club.
After the event you get to thinking about what it is you are actually proposing to let them do ?
You have just given a bunch of children permission to do just about anything they please within a vaguely creative framework...
It is possibly a little irresponsible, bearing in mind how well criticism of authority goes down in most African countries...
Yeah... I did think about that afterwards... but whichever way I thought about it there was a feeling of confidence that maybe we'd just opened a chink of light and those kids weren't going to screw up the opportunity and both Joy and I felt that all the time.
It never wavered.
We would have to see.

One more school and a blitzkrieg on the local supermarket for a few provisions-eggs, cheese, chicken frankfurters, jams and fruit juice cartons and after a quick lunch we're free for the afternoon... Well, about an hour, actually, until the kids get home from school and the song and dance practice begins and the whole compound becomes a mass of all dancing and all singing...
Little ones, older ones, even some of the madder adults...

Joy cuts out at about 11pm and 'Tufa runs her back to the guest house while I hang around to open the compound gates to get the car in when he returns.
After which I said my goodnights and crashed...

It's the man from the mosque again...
Must be morning...

Someone wanna tell me where the nightime went...

I mean that is the time we're traditionally supposed to sleep...

Ain't it ?
We get to meet our musicians today so I suppose I ought to get up...

The Third Gambian Experience Part One (The Airplane Song).

Photo's from the top:-

Binta (In the leaf pattern dress) and the local girls, dancing up a storm

Mariama doing the same in her Chelsea kit...

Little Ida in Benfica kit.

Neighbour Ida's little'un, Omar .

Joy T. having just arrived.

The third Gambian Experience is off and under way and here we are, me and my co-conspirator from Parnassus Performance, The N.P.W/Chris Ripple X-perience and Bass Relief,
Ms Joy T.Chance, are seated aboard an early morning Monarch Airlines flight out of Gatwick on a cold November day bound for the warmer climes of Banjul Airport in The Gambia.
Well, we would be if a couple of mechanics weren't hammering nails into a wing panel to hold it in place as the previous one had fallen off somewhere...
No, I'm not joking, it fell off somewhere and since this is definitely a health and safety issue (MINE), I have no problem with it, honestly...
I just have this picture of a bloke in a Monarch Airlines suit, hammering on some foreign geezer's front door and saying "Scuse me mister, can we have our bit of wing back, please ?"
So, no problem with the guys at Monarch. Be safe, be certain and be professional and they were all of that.
Still, after flying out about an hour late, the flight being totally uneventful and with a 100 mph wind at our back we'd made up 45 mins when we reached Banjul only 15 mins later than the flight's scheduled arrival.
Nice One.
We breeze through Customs and Immigration their side (I only get problems leaving the country...
Something to do with giving up cigarettes, but more of that, later) and it's straight out into the arrivals area where Haddy and 'Tufa are waiting to greet us...
"It's Mr Chris..." yells 'Tufa, loud enough for the security guards to all turn their heads and look sternly toward the event that has just bothered their equilibrium, but it turns into grins at the giant 'hug in' that is occuring on their turf and they go about their job again knowing we might look a bit weird but we're ok really.
It's a bit strange for me as Joy is my ex-girlfriend and Haddy and Joy did not get on too well when I was going out with her, but she's a much loved friend and a great co-star/conspirator whether she's an ex or not, and I'm so glad that her current boyfriend, Kieran, allowed her and trusted her enough to come with me. (Thanx mate, I owe you a beer or something... Mine's a J2O).

Anyway, back to the immediate plot.
As soon as we get to Haddy's compound it's all out of the car and leg it inside before the village comes over to greet the guests (Hey, I'm not knocking it, it's nice) and to see if we can drink down at least one delicious cup of tea before it all starts...
No chance... We were spotted by too many...
We did get the cup of tea but I managed only half before forgetting where I'd left it in the hubbub.
Joy, being black herself, is being greeted as a long lost sister even though her parent's roots were in what was once British Guyana and hers are totally English...
It's mad, it's mindblowing and it's a lovely welcome for her and I think she really was a bit emotionally overcome by it all.
Sorry if that wasn't the case, mate, but it did look that way to me, and who's writing this anyway ?
MINE !

After a couple of hours we take her about a quarter of a mile up the road in the car to the room she is staying in for the duration of her stay.
It is basically furnished but at least she is in the village.
That means a lot to the people here.
She will be eating and rehearsing over at Haddy's with me anyway and we're going to find out very soon if it's acceptable to her ?
Joy chooses a ground floor room at the back of the guest house (It's cooler that side) and pronounces it as being better than Cairo, so that's ok, then, now it's back to the compound to greet the kids who are back from school and the rest of the village who have now found out about our arrival from the first lot...
Mothers, children, even some of the local men who have heard about why we are here, are turning up to officially welcome us on their behalf to their village.
It is one hell of an emotional moment and there ain't no doubts about that.
Joy needs her sleep and I certainly need mine, having been up nearly 36 hours, so she makes her excuses around ten o'clock after a quick shower to get the travel grime off, and 'Tufa runs her back to the guest house.
I blagged the next shower and virtually collapsed, exhausted...

Oh blimey ! I can hear the man from the mosque... It's morning.

So... It's back to The Gambia then...

So... Here we are again after one total computer crash which wiped out all the stuff I'd been keeping safe...
You know what caused it ?
A bleedin' memory stick which I'd just downloaded into to keep the files safe...
Still, it ain't the end of the world although realising I've lost all my photos and poems and the rest, is a bit of a bummer to say the least, but I've got 'real' copies of most of them and the book is on a separate disc which I now can't get into for some reason, so I won't be adding anything to that while I'm away.

The Gambia... It can't come too soon as this place (England) is beginning to get on my tits !

The Second Gambian Experience Part Seven (Get Back To Where You Once Belonged)

So here I am, sitting with ‘Tufa and Haddy at Banjul airport enjoying a beer…
Everybody seemed to like the chicken thing I concocted except I personally thought the chicken lumps too big but that can be altered for next time I’m out there which should be in November for the gigs.
I haven’t got the dates yet but they’ll let me know the details when they are sorted out.

What a rush… Lamin was out when we called round but Ebrima was in and so we drank tea and chatted as people do as the storm raged outside.
Normally we’d be sitting outside on the long bench seat but the lightning is flashing around our heads and the thunder is rolling over the mountain…
That’s an expression from my youth by the way, back in the days when I had heroes and I suppose that if truth be told then Thunder Rolling In The Mountains was, and is, still a bit of a hero.
Certainly he was one of the bravest of men and definitely one who should be admired…
If you haven’t a clue what I’m on about then look it up, I’m not here to make things easy for you. The Creator gave you a brain so bloody well use it.
Anyway, that’s the past and that has gone, so back to the present.
Ebrima has given me some oranges to take home from his compound tree and I have to admit they taste pretty good. Sort of sweet and tangy as oranges should be as opposed to the sometimes tasteless supermarket stuff that can taste like sugary wet papier mache, but that’s the difference between getting them straight off the tree as opposed to the forced growing that we suffer in England in the name of the Brussels Agricultural policy…
So we pass round the oranges and nuts and drink tea with Ebrima’s wife and with Jacob (See, I did remember) as the storm rages until Haddy comes over with two umbrellas and I say my goodnights and leg it back across the road getting absolutely soaked in the process.
The following day I spend an hour at Haddy’s saying goodbye to everyone.
It was like a conveyor belt with a different face every two minutes for a goodbye handshake or hug…
Even some of the local kids came to say goodbye without their parents.
It really was very touching and I thank you all.
They say it’s the people that make a place what it is and this is certainly true of here.
These people are so welcoming that it is sometimes difficult to get your head round after the usual self important English argy-bargy-ing

‘Tufa had football practice at the same time as my departure so he needed special permission to take me otherwise he wouldn’t get picked for the team so I went half an hour early so he could do both.
It has definitely been another good trip.
I could have done without the cold and the case of ‘Banjul Belly’ but these things happen sometimes and this was one of them and I’ve actually remembered to keep back 350 dalasi for food and drink in the departure area this time as I definitely needed something before getting on the plane.

My usual bad luck at airports is holding and I got pulled on the Gambian side for my Nicorette Inhalitors. Giving up smoking is a pain in the arse but it has to be done and after I’d given them a demonstration and one of them had tried out one of my spares and sneezed himself out of any sense of lucidity (It happens to me sometimes on the first and second drags so I know it occurs) they concurred that I wasn’t a drug smuggler after all. The boxes do have my name on because for me they are prescription items so I should be ok, but they don’t seem to know about these things over there yet.
They will, but its early days for Africa yet. They’re still smoking like chimneys out there.

I met the airport cat again while in departures. It’s a sweet little thing and it begs like a professional… Ok, the prawn sandwich could have been the spur but one king prawn and a lump of bread later it seemed a happier cat and we were chatting away to each other like a couple of old women and then the couple on the next table started feeding it also and I got a break.
The flight back was uneventful except for the two hour delay which puts my car in jeopardy at the car park. Hopefully they will be told the flight is delayed and won’t charge me any excess but I don’t know ?
What I do know is that I’m going to be completely knackered when I get into Gatwick at four in the bloody morning, and then there’s that half mile walk to pick up your luggage…
God, I hate Gatwick Airport !
Hey ! Miracles do happen. I walked through the green light totally clear of any excess whatsoever and I’m not sure how, but that was a first for me as it has never happened before… Previously I’ve gone through green with nothing and been pulled everytime, but since I’m carrying only mangoes and some dodgy sour fruit with seeds in that I don’t particularly like for Haddy’s daughter Fatou, then I know I’m ok.

It’s now early Saturday morning so the M.25 hasn’t yet jammed up with traffic although I’m sure it will later but I sail right on through at a steady 70mph which is somewhat gratifying and get home at 9.10 am.
Meet and greet a couple of grumpy pussy cats and then go straight to bed…
Sod the washing, that can wait.
Aaaah sleep…
Zzzzzzzzzz…


POSTSCRIPT.

I got the dates at the beginning of October, six weeks before the events take place.
First Joy, Nuzz and Grant can't do it because of the way the holiday system is worked in this country so the band is out, but Graeme from Parnassus can.
A week later a poster appears through the post as e-mailing is out of the question courtesy of Gamtel.
One week after that I receive a frantic telephone call from Haddy...
The Semega Janneh Hall is being renovated the week we're supposed to be there so they've been put back a week and the three gigs have now dropped to two but I've got three school workshops now as well...
Oh Gawd !
Much as I like doing them, if I'm on my own when am I going to have time to rehearse with the musicians ?
After some frantic ringing around at my end Graeme now can't do it because of the date change but Joy now apparently can, and that is where we stand at this moment in time.

Checking out the poster I suddenly realise we are working on the same bill as the next African superstar in waiting...
I've seen Jalex (Akuntu) on television and was very impressed...
That lad is good.
For Africans and specifically Gambians from whence he comes, it would be like working with Bob Dylan in 1965 or Bob Marley in 1972 just before they went into world superstardom, but then he comes from Bakau which is where I stayed on my first trip out there and so if he's at home then it's only down the road for him.
Give the lad another couple of years and I reckon he'll be pushing for Youssou N'dour's crown... Mark my words he's gonna be big.

We're far too late to apply for any sort of funding for this trip or to get anyone else involved, but if it goes ok then lets try for the big one next year with funding, plus maybe I could get The Faction out there as well as The N.P.W/Chris Ripple X-perience, plus anyone else who wants to go ?
It's all down to money and who's doing what holiday wise, but let's just see how we get on with this one first ?
I hate the political correctness of the funding system and I know from a previous letter from The Arts Council that because I'm white and doing something in a predominantly black and Muslim country that there are gonna be problems.
They wanted to publish Parnassus' poetry but only black or asian poets...
Well I've got news for those fuckwits.
We live in a predominantly white area of North Hertfordshire so while we might have one or two black members the vast majority are gonna be white.
We don't have a problem with colour so why do they ?
Fuckin' rascists !

Looking forward to it ?
You betcha ass !

The Second Gambian Experience Part Six (The Old Weird America)

Photo's :-
'The Cuckoo is a pretty bird...'
Haddy and Lamin (and Mariama).









My second to last day dawned with sunlight which made a nice change with what had gone before so I’m out at about half seven again just doing some vague writing outside the compound gate sitting on one of those wooden seat come rests that Haddy has, mentally sketching the day and the people walking past while off to their respective workplace.
Some who have met me call out good morning and some other things but the vast majority just seem to be curious about the one obvious outsider in their midst.
It is of no worry to me.
I’m just lost in my own world for an hour or two until Haddy calls me inside for breakfast, after which, I’m back outside for another go, at which point Lamin turns up to say goodbye just in case he misses me tomorrow.
We tell him not to worry… We’ll be over his place tonight for a last visit before I’m off home again, although ‘home’ is a concept that I’m having serious difficulty with at the moment.
Lamin, who I’d previously met with a drum while at Fatou N’jai’s naming day is, I guess, a teacher, coach, mentor… Whatever ? To the local kids who are into music and football for he is adept at both despite using crutches to get around, and we talk generally about my stay and my return again at some point which is definitely something I intend to do and I’m going to miss the local kid’s who play their ‘Cup Final’ next week and then he tells me that Kawsu will be over to see me at some point today.
Now Kawsu is one of the guys I’ve met but I have no idea what’s going on so I just file it in my memory and think nothing of it until, of course Kawsu shows up and tells me that they are arranging three gigs for me for the next time I’m out there and can I bring the band ?
I think ‘gobsmacked’ is the right word although astonished and amazed are probably more accurate but don’t really carry the same weight.
It’s like the guy who translated the word bullshit into rubbish as in the expression ‘you’re talking bullshit’ (you’re talking rubbish).
How was it the translator was the one guy who never knew what the word ‘bullshit’ meant ?
So gobsmacked might be slang and not good English but at least it’s the right word and in this case definitely accurate.
Bringing the band that I’m working with at this present time is going to be next to nigh impossible as who knows what holiday arrangements they’ve all got left but we’ll see what we can do after I get back as unfortunately without the internet access I can do nothing while I’m here ?
Actually, my surprise is quite genuine as soundwise we are definitely a bit abrasive for a country that definitely prefers sweeter sounds but some of them have heard the minidisk that I recorded of us at Rhythms Of The World so they must know what they are getting…
Things are definitely beginning to get interesting.
If I can’t get the band which is likely then maybe a couple of members of Parnassus ?
I’ll see what I can do as two of the gigs are in halls with primary and junior school pupils and a couple of the local outfits and one is outdoors on the patch of waste ground behind Haddy’s compound with some of the older kids and a few local outfits, so Hey ho… let’s go… and I just have this crazy thought of The Nuzz Prowlin’ Wolf crashing into a Ramones or a Johnny Thunders riff on the waste ground outside to a bunch of Gambian kids who like their Rap and Reggae…
Damn… That thought is making me smile… and face it, stranger things have happened though right now I’m hard pressed to think of one ?

I’m cooking again tonight. Chicken this time and vaguely Chinese style with vegetables, chillis and noodles although Lord knows when I’m going to be able to cook it as I’ve promised Ebrima I’ll go and see him in the late afternoon and later I’m due round Lamin’s which is down the street away but I know which compound it is by the sounds of reggae emanating from it…
Well, that’s the plan if the rain holds off.
200 dalasi has just bought us a taxi tip to one of the supermarkets in Westfield, a couple of miles up the road which also has a bank to change up some last travellers cheques so I get the money sorted and the shopping trip done at the same time…
Enough apple juice for the rest of the stay and a couple of bits for the Chicken Chinese which I’m told they are all looking forward to trying.

Mariama’s friend Ida has just come over to watch a cartoon on the television.
It looks a sneaky bit like The Banana Splits to me, but who knows ?
The characters remind me of them even if this thing is set in the middle ages.
A couple of days ago we all watched ‘Babe’ with English sub-titles and followed that with it’s sequel Babe-Pig In The City which I might point out is nowhere near as good as the original but anyway…
Yeah, we watched ‘Babe’ and there were tears among the watchers when it looked like that little pig wasn’t going to succeed…
But didn’t you say that The Gambia is an approximately 87% Muslim country
Chris, and that Haddy’s children and friends are predominantly Moslem ?
Yes, I did… But it would seem that one little pig can melt a whole lot of hearts and maybe it was just me that got the contradiction but they didn’t think anything of it…
Babe was the good guy and he triumphs in the end by being nice to others…
I think that is the only way of looking at it and it ain’t a bad way at that… but that is for ‘The New Weird Gambia’ and not the old one…

The Old Weird Gambia…
The Kankurang comes from that place.
Stay with it and you will understand.
The Old Weird America…
That was the first expression coined by one of the ‘Beat poets’ some time in the late 1940’s and since taken up by authors and writers everywhere but where did the ‘Old Weird America’ come from ?
It came from England, It came from Scotland, It came from Ireland, It came from Wales and it came from France and Holland and Germany and it became by travel and emigration a thing of it’s own…
The Old Weird America like The Legend Of Sleepy Hollow (Yeah, I know it was invented by Washington Irving) and places like that, but there was an older earlier ‘Old Weird…’ with elf and faerie and men who kill swans who turn into maidens and all that strange folk music stuff that is centuries old but that must have come from somewhere... ?
Like Europe perhaps, but who knows ?
What matters is that exists.
It existed when I was young in the songs and nursery rhymes and strangely enough it never went away and exists even now, and even with the advent of the electronic superhighway and instant messaging to anywhere in the world that is logged on, it still exists…
The Old Weird America…
It’s a beautiful way of describing a mythic and legendary past and since I know for a fact The British Isles have a fair bit of ‘Old Weird’ emanating from it then it follows that other places must have their own also, and The Kankurang is definitely a bit of Old Weird Gambia and there it would have stayed except for one little item that freaked me out when I heard it…

Now there’s this cd box set, see…
It’s called The Harry Smith Anthology Of American Folk Music and it contains some of the oddest and strangest selections of old folk music known to the world of music.
It came from (obviously) a guy named Harry Smith who was an experimental film maker, artist and musicologist among other things and who amassed a collection of 78’s of early recorded music and what mattered to him was that it sounded different and not related to anything else that was around at the time and one of the items that you will find on it is a track by a guy named Clarence Ashley entitled The Cuckoo (or Coo-coo) and this track was recorded in 1928.
Now there is an older version of this song to even that one, as it actually appears in ‘Sharpes Folk Songs Of The British Isles’ which would definitely make it seventeenth or eighteenth century by the language used or possibly even earlier ?
This stuff obviously exists out there but unfortunately is known only to a few as opposed to the mass…
So imagine my surprise when a couple of Mariama’s friends started chanting the first line within one of their skip rope songs ?
Now I didn’t get it all, and some of it was in one of their indigenous languages but it was definitely The Cuckoo and what made it even weirder to me was that it was the American version.
Obviously, going back there again I’m going on a hunt for the kids to find out where they got it from if I can, but why the American and not the English version ?
The Gambia was a British colony before independence and there are a couple of word changes within the two versions which give away the country of origin.
Hey ! I’m not an expert on this stuff, I didn’t even know there was an English version which predated Clarence Ashley’s until I looked it up, so how did it end up in The Gambia ?
To my knowledge there are no serious folk music freaks in that part of Fajikunda so could they have got it from one of their school teachers who knows the thing ?
I dunno, but it certainly freaked me and I’m going to have to find out as the intrigue is beginning to get to me.
Anyway, if you don’t own the Harry Smith Anthology, just do yourself a favour and buy it. Give the wife (or husband) a few quid to get them out of the house, dim the lights, pour yourself a cup or glass of whatever takes your fancy, stick cd no.1 in the cd player and press play and then settle down and relax and just let it do it’s work…
I guarantee that when you’ve got through the cd’s you will have more questions than answers.
Will it change your life ?
Well, if music is part of your lifestyle then I would say yes, definitely it will.
I’d known a few of the tracks on it for years but usually in their ‘cover’ versions by modern performers.
Just as a for instance on ‘The Cuckoo’, I’ve got a Tom Rush version and a live Bob Dylan version in my own collection and from memory I know I’ve another by a female but right now I can’t remember who ? (Janis Joplin).
Hearing the originals puts you in a different time frame as all the tracks on it were recorded between 1927-1933 and listening to them (for an old vinyl junkie like me) without the pops and crackles that accompanied the old thirty three and a third format is an amazing experience…
Anyway, do yourselves a favour… Just go out and buy the thing or borrow it off a mate or hire it from your library, but listen to it.
This stuff should be taught in school music lessons and not how to play Wonderwall
as this stuff is more likely to live forever.
The Old Weird Gambia is maybe nearer the Old Weird America or the Old Weird England than some people think ?

Haddy has a cuckoo living in her orange tree in her compound…
Karma ?
Omen ?
Or just serendipitous coincidence ?
By this time she will have read the Greil Marcus book and passed it on to Lamin to read also.
Maybe when I get back they can shed some light on it ?
It’s a strange old world sometimes and occasionally it gets stranger…