Sparks from the Fire

(If you missed the other installments of this article, simply visit Siyahamba -1st Installment and Siyahamba – Sao Paolo-Installment 2)

We drove slowly through the streets of Masiphumelele, a South African township, ever so slowly and carefully. Its residents filled the narrow streets, men hanging out in bunches on the street corners, women bustling to and fro seeming to be doing all the work, and children, as usual, playing their fast and furious street games excitedly and joyfully.

The poverty was everywhere like I knew it would be. The homes were, in fact, nothing more than corrugated cardboard lean-tos with occasional tin roofs, if they were lucky.  The electricity, I could see, was hand connected to each “home” by a naked wire that ran up to a main cable stretched overhead.

Many homes had no front doors to speak of and so I could just look right into the semi-privacy of darkened living rooms. An occasional out-of-place pink stucco house would bless a street, but more often a ruin or two, too dilapidated for anybody to live in, sat empty and rotting.

(Watch the video we made… Siyahamba Project on YouTube)

Initially known as Site 5, the township was renamed Masiphumelele by its residents, which is a Xhosa word meaning “We will succeed”. In 1990, about 8000 residents lived in the area, mostly in shacks, but by 2005, it had grown to 26,000 people.

I needed to see this place. It was an experience I had to have. I was both fascinated and deeply saddened to see our brothers and sisters living in these conditions.

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(If you are looking the other installments of this article, simply visit Siyahamba -Sao Paulo Installment 2 and Siyahamba – Cape Town-Installment 3)

I’ve worked on a thousand musical projects in my lifetime. Some didn’t turn out so well – the result of myriad reasons. Most, gratefully, went well and we achieved what we set out to do. I’m always grateful for the high quality of professionals that I’ve had the opportunity to work with. They always make success possible.

Occasionally the outcome actually surpasses the dream. Yesterday I had such an experience.

Several months ago I was asked to produce a fascinating event for the annual meeting of a major international church. The concept, developed by executive producer, Norm Bleichman and me, was to go around the world and record various churches singing the beautiful South African hymn, “Siyahamba”.

(Watch the video we made… Siyahamba Project on YouTube)

Each location would sing a different verse or chorus and each would be sung to a track recorded in the style of music related to the culture.  The music would then be assembled with video and performed at the church’s annual meeting with the “whole world” singing together in one grand finale.

Siyahamb’ ekukhanyen kwenkhos

Translated from the original Zulu, it means, “We are marching in the light of God.”

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It’s amazing how many elements of my life converged into my recent visit to Cape Town.  I went there to record a project involving a South African hymn, but it just so happens that I’ve also been working (composition and production) on a song for the last couple of months for the new Jenny Burton CD.  The name of the song is “South Africa” and it was actually written for The Jenny Burton Experience about 10 years ago.

Nelson Mandela

It was done as a tour de force production number at a time when the focus of the world was on Nelson Mandela and the historic happenings at the end of Apartheid.  Each night when the song was passionately performed, the audience, black and white, would rise to their feet in full-throated exuberance at the end.  It was one of the power point moments of The Jenny Burton Experience.

Under the heading of “You Probably Know This But…”, I thought the following info was worth repeating:

Apartheid — An Afrikaans word meaning ‘apartness’

During most of the 20th century, South Africa was ruled by a system called Apartheid, which was based on the segregation of races.

During the 1960s, racial discrimination applied to most aspects of life in South Africa and Bantustans (territories set aside for black inhabitants of South Africa and South-West Africa, now Namibia) were created for Blacks. The system had evolved into ‘Grand Apartheid’. The country was rocked by the Sharpeville Massacre, the African National Congress (ANC) and Pan Africanist Congress (PAC) were banned, and the country withdrew from the British Commonwealth and declared a Republic.

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Africa

Africa

Land of mystery
Magical land
The last continent
Cape Town
The end of the world
With names like Zimbabwe
Botswana
The Ivory Coast
Egypt, for God’s sake
Not to mention Cameroon
Ethiopia
The Congo
Tunisia
Words that roll off the tongue
Words that make me want to go
Just so that I can say
“I went to Mozambique”

Africa
She calls me back
I’m here
She’s there
I brought a piece of her home
I left a piece of me there
She wakes this morning in the mist
Another day in poverty
Another day in clouds
Another day in her riches
In her diamond mines
In her human stink
In her magnificence
I in my bathrobe
Her in her nakedness
Petals of Africa
Left scattered on my pillow

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Time to go home. Complete the circle. New York – Sao Paulo – Jo’burg – Cape Town – Jo’burg – Dakar – Home.

No matter what treasures the rest of the world offers, it’s always good to go home.

The ordeal of flying: Time spent in airplane/airports this leg – 24 hours! Cape Town to New York City. 24 hours to get home. Strangest part of the trip was that 23 of the 24 hours were in darkness. We followed the sun, but never caught up until the end, the last hour, and the sun rose over NYC – hidden by the rain.

Meanwhile, I’m trying to get home…

Four movies later and 20 hours fighting a cramped airplane seat, we landed and I was home. Or was I?  Grabbed a cab from Kennedy.  7:00 am to 9:00 am – NYC Monday morning traffic in the rain. Two more hours to get home.

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“Oh my God!” we both exclaimed as one. Then an opening miraculously appeared and we quickly and deftly swerved off the road sliding to a stop, gravel flying. “Oh… my… God…” as we sat stunned, numbly groping for our cameras, fumbling awkwardly in the front seat, refusing to take our eyes off of what lay before us. We had been chasing just this vision all day without knowing it. Amateur shutterbug, me, and cinematographer, Norm, on a hunt for the perfect image, the perfect capture on film.

I opened my shotgun door while Norm quickly turned off the engine and grabbed the video camera. I stumbled to the edge of the cliff [below was Cape of Good Hope], still refusing to take my eyes off the scene below for fear that it all might somehow slip away and disappear.

But that was not to be. I had missed many a great shot for the last several days driving and focusing, frustrated and missing the moments as they rushed by. But this one would be different.

We had been driving down the mountain, end of day, hurrying to get home for a dinner in our honor given by new South African friends. As we came around the bend, there was the shot. God’s masterpiece of the day painted before us.

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There are long cloud shadows on the plains of Africa

But no rain
The red earth cries for water
But to no avail
The patterns of the landscape are nature’s
Not the checkered tablecloth of man
Africa does it her way
And none to argue

In the airport in Jo’berg
A hooded woman in black
With only her eyes exposed
Follows her master obediently
A black man so black and so beautiful
I cannot take my eyes off him
A tribal prince in modern dress
Chinese Egyptian
Man from Mumbai
Mozambique child in a Gap shirt
Sad-eyed priest from the Ivory Coast
American composer drinking it all in
All heading down to the end of the world
A meeting tonight in Cape Town

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I’m up here at 39,000 feet again – on my way to Cape Town, South Africa.  Groundspeed: 687 Mph – halfway there, 2000 miles to go.

Nothing but ocean below. Night. Outside air temperature minus 70 degrees.  Whoa baby, that’s cold, fast and high. Pretty amazing when you think about it.  Way to go, humans!  You’ve come a long way.

We’re pretty tough on the airlines these days. Truth is, we’re pretty spoiled. Consider the Spanish and English and Portuguese in their little ships.  Consider the pioneers in their wagon trains. Drive across the U.S. even today. It’s a long haul.

I have 15 movies to choose from. The food wasn’t bad, and I didn’t even have to kill it. My biggest worry was the seat next to me. Would it be filled? It wasn’t, so I can put all my stuff around me ‘cause, god knows, it’s a real pain to have to get up and get my computer out of the overhead.

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