The
happening of:
African
Morning Song – My Symphony of a Morning in Africa
Characters:
African red-eyed Bulbul (Pycnonotus nigricans), the first singer of the
morning,
canaries,
lovebirds,
and more
birds that begin to chirp in, usually:
the turtledoves
first,
and then
Bokmakiere (bush shrike – Telophorus zeyonus),
with the
song of Piet-my-vrou, (red chested cuckoo Cuculus Solitarius
(the
Afrikaans name derived from the singing of the bird. It is rumored that when
they sing the specific song, that rain is on the way.)
And of
course the busy bees who’d begin scouting as soon as the first sunrays come
rushing over the horizon.
More
characters are mentioned where relevant.
OVERVIEW OF
THE FINAL STORY, OR SYMPHONY
The prelude
begins in my bed as I wake up, which would be around four o’clock during the
southern Summer, ca 16minutes before the African Bulbul begins to sing.
A baby was
born in the early hours, it rained, I had my meditation and there was a
celebration shortly after breakfast time before everybody got onto their daily
chores.
All these
memories came to seven movements.
UPSIDE DOWN VIEW OF THE STORY
(This was when I discovered my own music back chats me, orders me around and decides when it shall be done.....)
Okay, so I learned a teeny bit about what a symphony is and thought that these stories will make up one fancy bit of listening for me, remembering all those good things I experienced in my life. Alas..... (then I also discovered my music makes its own rules, it took advantage of me since I didn't know what rules there are in music, wrote like a sheep about it in My Music, My rules earlier)
At first I thought it would be four movements, prelude, prayers, breakfast and the finale. I’ve read somewhere that a symphony contains four movements. Okay, I wanted to do it.
But this
symphony kept telling me its not over yet. The prelude had to be split into two
parts, the actual waking up in my bed and the rain. It was that rain part that
had me sort of locked for quite a while. I didn’t understand much of it and
thought parts of it sounded terrible. I removed it from the original prelude.
Then, after
I had split the two parts I knew something was missing. I had to be honest
about the rain - accept thunder as part of a good rainfall. It almost always is in some areas where I lived in South Africa, in any case. But this was the emotion one that I didn't like. Then, when I
listened again to Stravinsky’s Firebird, watched how he demands the story from
his orchestra... I knew what I had to do.
So then, the
symphony happened, I woke up, the rain came, I had my meditation and
breakfast. There I had my symphony with four movements.
Nope,
during the breakfast part I first had to wake the people up, (tsk tsk, of course silly, you being awake doesn't mean that all your characters are awake yet) then breakfast, bush telegraph (drums)
and when the plenty talking happened I got the hint that I had to refer to the baby
that was born early that morning. Okay, five then, the sun that breaks over the horizon is shining in my eyes, I can almost not keep them open as I
sing my lullaby for the new baby. What a great finale.
Nope, we
shall celebrate the baby, we have gifts to give. Okay, we had a big feast, so
surely six movements are good and what a grand finale of giving gifts!
Nope, you
cannot party all day HAMBA! HAMBA! you’ve got to hurry on with the day. Fine
then, seven movements. The day was in full swing and at last the morning was over!
SOMETHING
HAPPENED IN BETWEEN
At the time
with hamba! hamba! another song also came to me with my daughter who was going
to marry her dream man. While working on hamba! hamba! it suddenly felt as if
she was sitting in my arm, saying “Ma, I’m getting married”. That very moment,
as if in a trance, I saved my work and began a new composition which I finalized before continuing with my morning song’s hamba! hamba! And, somehow in
this last movement, as the ladies go about their chores to wash laundry at the
stream, they are talking about the wedding of one of them. This part of the wedding
talk is not contained in the song I wrote for my daughter, it is another one
that began forming which I yet have to compose. It is ready to come out, I just
don’t have all the time to answer all the music or it would have been composed
already.
I dare draw
a conclusion with this experience, that many of the songs in me are all part of
specific networks. Maybe one symphony is only a movement of a far greater
symphony? It is in any case about the things in life as they happen. Maybe life
has always been my symphony, or at least the way I see it sometimes.
SCENE OF
THE BIRTH OF MY MORNING SYMPHONY
Area:
outskirts of Windhoek, Namibia.
It was
still dark. Next to my rented mobile home (a “Plettenberghuis, which is
actually a huge glorified caravan) was a dry riverine with dense bushes and
trees and plenty wildlife. I often had a visit from “Mr Rooimeerkat” (Cynictis
penicillata) a reddish type of mongoose of Southern Africa. I felt okay with
him around, they’re masters in combating snakes. And there are some real nasty
ones in Africa, some can pack a lethal punch.
It was in
these wild bushes on that early morning sometime after half past three that it
happened. I just woke, negotiating whether to have my java or still snuggle.
The first birds, usually the songsters, woke and began to sing as during any
other morning.
Yet, that
morning, suddenly, I became part of them, all my senses became as magnified
receptors for my soul, my heart – the perfumes of wild shrubs drifting through
my window, a hush in the breeze, small nocturne animals rushing home in the
underbrush, I could about hear each single leaf making its own sound, I
recognized all the textures I’ve touched in my life of this wonderful nature in
all these sounds and smells… it was as if my spirit floated away from my body –
up to this day I still experience looking at myself in my little bed, listening
and becoming one with it all.
The
magnificence happened in a flash, intense and very pleasant. The song came
rushing. It took me a long time afterwards to remember it all. The following
verse was the initial one, bad grammar and all, that I feverishly jotted down
when I ‘returned’ – there was so much to try and remember, I never wanted to
forget that experience, it was so good. I wanted to take it with me for the
rest of my life, pack it out on rainy days, listen to it when there is noise….
The verses
altered later as more memories came back to me, painting the exact picture I
experienced.
Initially, I
titled it:
“OUR MOTHER”
The first
notes of the Morning Song
Slowly
began to ring
When
canaries and lovebirds
Awake and
start to sing.
The
staccato notes of the francolin
Reaching a
crescendo, then fade….
Suddenly,
all your children are awake.
All these
memories came back to me through the following years, I wrote many more poems
and of course played the music of the prelude on my old guitar, singing a bit
about it. Yet, I never knew then how big this experience actually was.
REAL EVENTS
THAT INFLUENCED ME
I was in a
fever, finishing a next track. Done. Oh no, during playback I knew there is
more. I discovered that I have to ‘enter’ into this strange new world and find
those memories, hear each single voice again, shapes, movements....
Aaah, that
was suddenly okay. I do have my morning prayers, this time it was with bird
song, praising the Grand Maestro for our beautiful new day. The scenes that moved into my vision was the baby I delivered as well as
my own child when she was born, and the Lullaby came.
Stories
behind the The Gift and the Lullaby
caution: "THE GIFT" is a most joyful, serious party time. Dance wild, at
will!!
(there are
two gifts, a baby donkey and a white chicken)
The baby I
delivered is the first grandchild of a dear Nama couple, Anna and Adolf I knew
those years in the Dordabis district of Namibia. The conversation that came
between Anna and myself is contained in The Gift. This happened December 1988
It was an
average morning, all going swell. Then Anna pops around, telling me that the
baby is coming, I have to deliver the baby.
“Nei Anna,
I had only one child, you had many more, you have the experience. But I will
help you,” I replied to her but she just said “Nei, it is you that have to
deliver this baby,” with a chuckle and a secret smile “but I’ll help you.” she
added.
Anna
wouldn’t take no for an answer and I panicked, a baby is so fragile when she
arrives in this world, there are so many things to take care of, I was so
scared I could cause the baby harm.
I knew Anna
meant what she said because she just went on with her business, ignoring me - and suddenly I sprang into action. Ordering the “donkey” to
be fired up for hot water, pots and kettles on the roaring wood stove to have
boiled water. Then I ran to meet the mommy-to-be and her nervous husband. I
still had my athletic legs and could cover 200m in 23 seconds flat though I
think that day I was flying……
Each cell
in my body zoomed into this young woman in labour with her first child. She was
okay, but contractions were uneven and I knew she might be a bit stressed up. I
was stressed up, just the previous day we were at the clinic, she told them the
baby is near, yet they said to her she has to go home, the baby is far from
being due.
That was a
mighty long drive on bumpy farm road until the main road, and then still a long
while before we’d reach the clinic That moment I knew I’ll help her, I wouldn’t
subject her and baby to that road at all to try and reach the clinic.
The vet was
also visiting the farm and I hoped he would assist. He only send some sterile
needles with gut and a scalpel blade over. Ugh, what a friggin fart, I thought. Oh well, at least I
then had sterile gut to tie the umbilical chord and the blade to cut it.
When the
time was in, we were a team, Anna, Mommy-to-be-, unborn Baby and I. Anna
supported her Daughter-in law and I was ready for that teeny little baby. It
was glorious, something I’ll never forget - to have delivered that brand new
little human being, the first one to touch her, to assist her in taking her
first breath…..bind and cut the umbilical cord. Somehow, I just knew what to do
the whole time. Then Anna ‘relieved’ me from the new Mommy to care for this
most precious little bonnie baby. I bathed her, she was so soft, so new, so
innocent.
How can
this not be music, of course this experience is music, totally music. Talking
and singing to a brand new baby, that is natural.
On my
birthday shortly afterwards, Adolf presented me with a donkey foal, my gift. I felt
so awkward to receive this from people who don’t have much, but my humble
argument was not accepted. Who can in any case fight things from the heart?
This was a proud grandfather, happy to present me with a gift from their
family.
I had to
name the little cutie in Adolf’s presence. I called him “Oujaar” (direct
translation "old year" which means New Year’s Eve. Here, the Afrikaans language
had the nicest name I could give the donkey)
My little
digital orchestra plays that part so nice: “Oujaar my donkey, Oujaar my donkey
donkey donkey”. Shall I say how much I love baby donkeys? I absolutely adore
them, they are so pretty. Of course his voice is also heard in The Gift.
The chicken
that can be heard in The Gift is from Constance, quite older than me, a sweet
nanny that looked so nicely after my own child. She is from Xhosa origins.
Petit, very beautiful and loving.
Those years, almost 4 decades ago,
I had some rough time for a while with a brutal boyfriend, and even needed to
shack with Constance for protection one night, scared and not understanding why
mankind can be so deceiving. Constance cooked food and wanted me to eat, I
could not, my stress levels were extremely high and she remained, watchful and
caring. I slept well that night, feeling safe.
Then one
day, Constance had a long weekend off and returned with a white chicken. She
said she had a message from her forefathers to give me a white chicken…. To
this day I cry when I remember it. I was chosen to be a messenger. When I look
back at my own life, I know exactly what this means, I understand reasons why I
saw and learned the way I did since I was a very small child. Truth and nothing
but the truth shall be spoken. It became my motto for as long as I remember
seeing any lie happening.
When I see
truth that has to be spoken, I have to bring that message. People need
understanding in order to have peace.
Morning
prayer is an essential part of my life. I bring praise to my Grand Maestro for
conducting the grace and beauty that happens around me. The secrets I find so
early in the silence of a sleeping mankind brings precious revelations which
the early songsters and I see and experience. Having a glimpse of night
becoming day, hearing it is a great source of energy that fills me. Only then
am I truly ready.
Every such
morning is beautiful, unique, new. A great way to start a day, we have a new
morning each day of our lives. To experience it every day is an enrichment. It
is a song.
Waking up
in Africa …real rural Africa
Nothing
beats waking up in rural Africa. One wakes as you normally do BUT the
difference is the glorious silence away from a fancy artificial world.
Breathing
fresh air, smelling the perfumes, a cool breeze and plenty birds singing.
Starting a small fire to heat water for coffee. Surrounding villages wake and the announcers will make their music. I used the brass
here to give that feeling I so often experienced.
In the
distance one can see more smoke curling in lazy strands up into the sky, the
bush telegraph sending messages to other villages, replying drums, announcing anything
or just a simple all is okay. Aaah, and soon one smells the “pap”, a porridge
made from maize and the elders sitting together, talking, children running to
do their chores, leading the cattle and small flock out of their pens, and
much, much more. All in a laid back atmosphere of happiness.
In "Waking up in Africa" I became aware of a kind of kwaito influence and thought that kwaito is
probably the oldest form of music. This communication could have come with
man’s first interaction with Nature, whether whistling or singing with birds,
chasing a baddie away from the flocks, whatever. And I wonder about King David,
as the young boy herding his father’s flocks, alone in Nature with the animals. We
know that he was a great poet, he danced and sang which is obvious then that he
had music in him. And as a child, we all know the imagination we can have….
Surely he made up many many songs while alone there in Nature. I also did when I was little, so I really wonder about this. I cannot find information that David learned music from someone....
I know how
much Nature inspires me, influences me in music.
In the
later part of Waking up in Africa, this kwaito form becomes really jolly as
everybody, including the birds, talk and sing, mimicking each other, leading each
other. I had so much enjoyment in creating that, I could go on forever doing
it. It was another world, I was totally absorbed in it. It made me feel so good
all the time.
I leave it
to the reader and listener to feel with me, the pleasures of waking up in
Africa.
It is a
symphony beyond perception, mine at least. But I'll soon learn what kind of music this one is, and I am terribly curious about it.
DAWN ELS (AUTHOR)
©COPYRIGHT Dawn Els 2014
African Morning Song – My Symphony of a Morning in
Africa
(Digital - my 'little people and I)
Composed and arranged by Dawn Els
Album: UPC: 3610154799353
Administered by Tono, Norway
Album or single tracks available at
https://itunes.apple.com/no/album/african-morning-song-my-symphony/id804721245
and some streaming services.
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