Kora
The public holidays I mentionned are for Coriteh, a festival marking the end of Ramadan, in which Muslims observe a month of fasting and restraint. As part of this week's celebrations I went with some Gambian friends to an open-air performance by the maestro kora-player, Jaliba Kuyateh.
A kora is a popular West African (specifically, Mandinka) stringed instrument that looks like a harp but sounds like a flamenco guitar. It is made from half a gourd covered with cow skin. Typically there are two male kora players and one female singer. There may be an ensemble with Balo (xylophone) and Kontingo (lute), and sometimes even instruments from other tribes, such as the syncopated Diola percussions and Fula fiddles. Among the Mandinka people, musicians are only permitted in the Jali (Griot) sub-tribe- a bit like Arabic Qawwalis or European Troubadors. Their remit extends beyond simply entertaining- they are historians, genealogists, praise singers, and even advisors and mediators. The artist learns his repetoire from a family member, starting in early childhood. But the exact expression is improvised during the performance. These traditions date back to 13th century Mali empire, but are still changing today- the traditional societal structures are disintegrating and younger generations are fusing Western influences with the music, creating a new sound and attracting a global audience.
A kora is a popular West African (specifically, Mandinka) stringed instrument that looks like a harp but sounds like a flamenco guitar. It is made from half a gourd covered with cow skin. Typically there are two male kora players and one female singer. There may be an ensemble with Balo (xylophone) and Kontingo (lute), and sometimes even instruments from other tribes, such as the syncopated Diola percussions and Fula fiddles. Among the Mandinka people, musicians are only permitted in the Jali (Griot) sub-tribe- a bit like Arabic Qawwalis or European Troubadors. Their remit extends beyond simply entertaining- they are historians, genealogists, praise singers, and even advisors and mediators. The artist learns his repetoire from a family member, starting in early childhood. But the exact expression is improvised during the performance. These traditions date back to 13th century Mali empire, but are still changing today- the traditional societal structures are disintegrating and younger generations are fusing Western influences with the music, creating a new sound and attracting a global audience.
Anyway, about the concert itself- we had to wait six hours for it to start, which even the Gambians thought was too long. It was worth it though ;) We sat chatting under themeteor showers and curiously watching hordes of children enter the arena without a ticket and then be ushered out, again and again. Being outdoors in a wide open unfamiliar space, amongst a jubilant crowd cackling in a foreign language that I like the sound of but don't understand, anticipating the arrival of a celebrity...deja vu- reminds me of the Indian classical music sessions I used to attend as a teenager. Just before midnight the real audience arrived, followed by Jaliba. He seemed like a very down-to-earth star. He apologised for and explained the delay, welcomed the strangers (he had noticed us!) and got down to some seriously amazing kora-playing with his band. From a distance he appeared to not actually be doing anything, but close-up we marvelled at his dexterity. The music itself was melodic and contemplative yet somehow still very rhythmic, inciting everyone to dance. The Indian musicians' sessions feeling came back to me again for two more reasons. Firstly, each song was based on a well-known rhthym cycling endlessly, carrying the audience on its undulations, and punctuated with the improvised variations. Each rhythm represents a story. Secondly, Jalibah's steps were similar to Khatak performers' (but his expression far more relaxed and natural).
Recurring themes in the stories were crocodiles (important creatures to the Mandinka) and unity/humanity. Audience members went up to the stage to give money in appreciation of their favourite songs- this happenned so often that it looked to me like a dance. There was real dancing too- and I was pulled up by a woman to join in. I became completely absorbed in it.
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