a new year, a new blog

Time to get ready for a certain-to-be-amazing year in Tanzania. I’m going to start sharing with you the music that I’m listening to as I write the blog and I hope you will listen to the music while you read it. The sounds capture the mood so much more accurately. So, turn this wonderful song on:
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Or4nFSkc-KA

I’m in another airport, after another slew of I-don’t-know-when-we’ll-see-each-other-next-time-goodbyes. Airports have become the loneliest place for me; they are always prefaced with bittersweet goodbyes, followed by a sigh and a look behind to give one last smile to whoever is bidding me farewell, then a push past the point of no return- the invisible border crossing through metal detectors and pat-downs into a bright iridescent land of useless items for sale and colorful strangers, each on his or her own journey and at the same time flowing together like a great migration—we’re safer when we move as a herd, going to no one really knows where. And as I sit by myself in these different colored but always uncomfortable plastic chairs, sticky with food and drinks from previous voyagers, I relive recent amazing moments that are still so alive, hugs that are still warm, yet turning into grey memories from a distant life far outside these airport windows. It’s my natural resistance to change, I know.

Whenever I’m in an airport by myself, which I seem to be most of these days, I watch the people passing by, searching for someone else who might be bored and a little lonely and I think of imaginary scenarios where I go up to him or her, strike up a conversation, and we discover that we have the same love of music, books, have been to the same places and even know some of the same people around the world. But, the passerby usually continues on without noticing my gaze. What I’m seeking is someone to travel with me, to confirm that the part life I just experienced wasn’t just a dream. And yet, I smile as I write this, because of course I know … you all are traveling with me. What would I do without the memories, laughs, stories, and gossip from all of my friends and family? Well, I would be a lot more bored in airports, that’s certain. So, here we go to another land, and more memories to miss someday.

Viewing TZ from Rio

I've been in Brazil for a little more than one week and I've had a lot of time to think about home- Arusha, Nashville, Atlanta, Marseille... where to begin? 

I'm torn, very torn between what makes me happiest. Mostly, I'm talking about my professional career: music-- my passion, my art, my life. When I am in Tanzania, I feel so fulfilled, so appreciated, and so useful. There aren't many classical musicians in Arusha and at times I forget what's going on in the rest of the world. I feel like a top-notch, world-class, butt-kicking musician in Arusha. And I get to have a lot of fun like that! But, of course, there is always something that seems lacking there-- the opportunity to learn, to grow, to for a short time soar from hearing other people, great classical musicians, playing. 

When I went home for Christmas last December, I soon heard some live jazz music with my dear friend Matthew. I almost started crying, I was overcome with the joy of hearing the beloved instrument- double bass!!-- again after so many months without it. Now I'm in Rio, visiting my father, and having the honor to hear great live music of so many types, and to play on some of the world's most incredible organs! Tonight I heard a fantastic concert by world renown, and quite young, organist Christian Schmitt. His music truly moved me, so much that I didn't really want to talk to him or any one after the organ recital; rather, I wanted to be with just the music in my mind, and my emotions for just a bit of time. [He played Pachelbel third sonata, and then later Liszt's variations on B-A-C-H. The Pachelbel seized my soul (I must learn this piece!) but the Liszt offended me. Not his playing, just the composition as a whole. It's so clamorous and doesn't seem to ever develop anything.] But, this was far too good of an opportunity to miss talking with this organist, so dad and I went off with Schmitt a small group of other organists and diplomats to have a bite to eat. At the table, I listened as Schmitt discussed his experiences getting to play with the Berlin Philharmonic. My heart melted a little as I envisioned simply being in that hall- why have I never been to Berlin?! I've spent hours of time watching videos of concerts in the Berlin Phil hall, looking at their digital tour online, and day dreaming about getting to hear a concert there, let a lone perform there!! Suddenly a pressure overtakes me, and inside I hear myself shouting at Dani: "what are you doing?! wasting time not practicing, not competing, not making yourself good enough to get there!"

So then comes the familiar dilemma: which world would I choose if I can, could, will? Will I remain in a place like Tanzania, Haiti, so many countries, that have nothing- no orchestra, few music programs, a handful of instruments and teachers? Where I would be appreciated, set to good use, but left to dry as far as filling my own soul with sharing beautiful music with world class musicians; or would I rather throw myself into the torrent of competition in the bigger arena of classical music? One that, for me is so fulfilling, and yet so heart breaking because of the constant comparison of oneself to others. The world that very few, and increasingly fewer, "mainstream" listeners appreciate, and even fewer understand? Both worlds make me whole, and I surely must find a way to remain (or even get into!) in the arena of the world's greatest musicians AND find a way to feel put to great use and share the greatness of so many pieces with those who have never heard such things. I have to set my own path, and I must find a way to be happy with it. Even though I am not winning world composition, conducting, organ, flute, percussion competitions. I have to find a way to know that what I'm doing is meaningful- meaningful for myself, for others, and for music as a whole. I refuse to become lazy, to take small, uneducated compliments as true judgments of my abilities, and will pursue a higher education and understanding of music. 

It's like there are two realities: one is my imaginary future self, something I day dream of, plot, plan, and organize each day that I live in the 'western world' where I'm reminded of my true musical 'competition'. And then, I sink back into my happy home there in Tanzania. Where ignorance is so blissful for me, forgetting about competition, entrance exams, grades, composition debuts, and judgement from peers. There, in that peaceful tanzania-filled world, I think "how can I teach my university class better? what composers can I introduce them, and myself to? How can I better engage my 6 year old piano students? How can I make my 50 year old flute student breathe more fluidly? How can I stay inspired to keep practicing, to make myself better, to stay 'in shape' musically? 

Perhaps this is the battle ever ex-patriot experiences in a developing nation. How to be two people, in two such separate and different worlds? 

Each day it's a battle, and it takes this plunge back into this western society, where we have SO much, to hold a mirror up and see how much I have in my little world of Arusha, Tanzania. 

Pondering Pedagogy

I’m sitting at home on a cool evening listening to the sandy voice of Ella Fitzgerald in my headphones. I don’t exactly feel like writing a blog entry, but if I don’t do it now, I’m not sure when it will happen.

Just a few of today’s experiences that made me smile.

Today as I was walking up the hill to catch the dala dala (bus) I saw a woman standing on the side of the rode, beside a short bush, peeing. She had a big cloth wrapped around her, as most women wear here, but she was just standing there peeing! In broad daylight, no minding any one walking by. I was more impressed than anything I think. It was quite a sight to see.

Then tonight I was cutting into an onion when I saw a black spot in the onion. I thought I’d cut around it and use the rest of it since it seemed fine. But as soon as I cut into the black part… and brace yourselves… a colony of tiny ants burst from it!! EW. I kinda jumped and then ran the cutting board and onion out the front door to throw it in the bushes. Ants... living in an onion!!! So weird.

Last Friday we had our end of the year recital for Umoja. Crazy that it’s the end of year recital, yes. We had a wonderful concert and it featured two songs that I’ve written. One of them will be in Ndoto and the other is called Watoto Wa Umoja (Children of Umoja). I originally just wrote it as a song for choir, but after people enjoyed it at our December concert, I arranged it for our ‘orchestra’ of guitars, pianos, violins, flutes, and voice. The flute studio here is new, and most of the students started learning with me. I was really proud of them- especially the beginners. Here’s the video of the song from the concert. Don’t mind the SUPER loud microphone of my youngest voice student. Haha.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=njLRULVcWxE

Mom made a good suggestion to me the other day- to write about my experience teaching. It is something that I have certainly spent a great deal of time thinking about—probably every single day that I’ve been in Tanzania, I’ve thought about teaching, how to do it better, lessons learned. And I’ve learned a LOT. One thing that comes to mind is how to handle kids with low self-esteems. I’ve made mistakes in that department, sometimes being too hard on kids when they weren’t ready for it. I’m still trying to figure out how to connect to students, teach them to trust me, and teach them to trust themselves. You can’t just tell a student: “You’re good. Now suck it up and play.”

Then there’s the topic of being open-minded to other kinds of music, and teaching music for kids to simply enjoy. Pop tunes and songs are very hard for me to respect and even more challenging for me to want to teach, but I do see value in them in that they give some students a lot of enjoyment. That’s what music is about, right? Enjoyment.

Then I’ve learned that a teacher cannot change the desire of a student to want to practice or even to want to play an instrument. I have done everything from coming down harder on discipline, to talking to parents, to getting creative with composition and improvisation activities. But, if a student doesn’t want to practice any music, then they won’t. I’ve learned not to take things so personally. There was an instance toward the beginning of the year when I played part of Mendelssohn’s Italian symphony and asked the kids what they thought of it- someone yelled out that they thought it was boring. It made me VERY mad when they said that, but I have to understand that the music I love is not what everyone loves, and vice versa.

I’ve learned that many children actually fear the metronome. I don’t know when I started loving the metronome, but I see it as a huge aide in practicing. Some students actually begin shaking in fear/nerves when I ask them to play a scale with a metronome. But, then for some of them, when I play with them in a steady rhythm instead of turning on the metronome, they can totally latch onto the groove and play with a steady rhythm.

I’ve realized that teaching very beginner music is not stimulating to me and I really struggle with making myself be excited to teach it. I love teaching at Makumira University- it’s very stimulating. There, I teach music students who are all older than me and very knowledgeable about some things and often ask me questions that I have to consider and that really challenge me. I don’t think I just want to lecture, though. And I still get somewhat hurt when they seem bored by the recordings I’m playing. These are the pieces that changed my whole perception of music! And I want them to be as ground-breaking for these people too. But music is individual and so personal. I have to come to terms with that.

I’ve learned how frustrating it is to teach a studio of children who have electric pianos. In Tanzania, real pianos are very hard to find. Most of our students have electric keyboards and when we have a week of a lot of power-outages, well, they don’t get to practice at all. I’ll never forget that little student coming in and telling me, quite proudly, how when her electricity was out she practiced on her mom’s ipad piano app…. Not quite the same as the piano.

I’ve seen how kids step up and seriously come through when it’s recital time. They come out of the weeks of struggling through a piece with a polished tune they, and I, can be so proud of.

I’ve come…somewhat… to terms to being around a lot of musicians who won’t make music their main life force. Coming out of university music school, where all the students are there FOR music and completely dedicated TO music.. it’s tough to know that I’m teaching most kids something that they will always do for fun or remember only as a part of their childhood. And I can find joy in that as well.

I’ve learned that little kids REALLY like to write and draw about killings, blood, and death when given the chance. Every time we have to make up a story about a composer as a fun activity, my little 6 year old group class begs to write or draw a story about the composer dying or being caught in war… not sure what to think of that. I remember once someone drew Chopin with “music bleeding out of his ears!” ….

I’ve witnessed how difficult it is to be a parent. I have such a great deal of respect for the parents who have to organize not only their insane, NGO-running, continent-hopping, family-raising lives, but also the 10 activities of their talented and insanely busy children. I’ve also seen how difficult it is for them to first let go of instructing their children in our lessons. There have been many conversations when I have to say “It’s great for you to help, but I have to be the one to instruct in the lessons.”

How do you teach someone to love opera? Or even to be open to it?

I’ve felt how much I’ve missed having professional live music concert. Oh I miss live jazz and live symphonies SO much.

I’ve thought a lot about when I fell in love with music, when I stopped minding practicing, when I learned all that I learned. It’s the hardest thing to remember—how you learned something that is now so engrained in who you are. What was I like when I was a 7 year old piano student? Did I understand things easily? Was I that student that my teacher dreaded? Or was happy to have? Why did I stick with music so much? Was it just because of the social element- I know marching band had such influence on me because of the friends I had there. These kids here don’t get that element, so will they love music less?

Those are just a few of my thoughts that I’m thinking of tonight. New questions come to me each day. It’s been such a year of discovery.

Ndoto is just around the corner J Colette arrives on Thursday! 

Rounding the Bend

More than 9 months! I’ve already been here 9 months, can you believe it? How much I can now look back upon, seeing growth and discovery in so many ways. This weekend was particularly wonderful, allowing me to reflect on all of the beauty and joy that I have to experience here.

Friday night, my friend Fraser and I went over to my dear friend, Jimmy’s house. His family is so beautiful and they’re always so gracious to have us in their home. He taught us a lesson on how to eat ugali. This is a traditional East African dish made from white maize, eaten by dipping it in a bunch of vegetable or meat dishes. Yum! Thanks for Fraser for the video documentation. Hehe

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qq7AP_EibLk&feature=youtu.be

Immediately after this lovely dinner, however, something significantly less fortunate, though significantly hilarious happened to me. Jimmy told us that he has an avocado tree in his yard, so we all went out to look. His 11 year old boy scurried up the tree to pick one for us. So, he picked one, but another avocado connected to the same twig also fell, plummeted to the ground, hit the plastic water tub sitting under the tree, and ricocheted directly INTO my face. Bulls-eye. It hit the crap out of the top of my nose, immediately causing me to cry. I was actually wanting to laugh, it was so ridiculous to imagine this very large, very hard avocado pummeling into my face. A little sore now, but no broken nose!

Yesterday was Fraser’s birthday and I organized a big hike for us and 6 other friends! It was one of the most wonderful hikes I’ve ever been. We walked through a village on one of the hills of Mt. Meru, into a pasture-like area, and down into the valley of tropical and ancient trees. 

Once we climbed down down down the very slippery muddy slopes (with a huge assistance from our guides and Jimmy!), we walked along a creek for some time.

 Then, around a bend, past some large stones, and there before us was a massive waterfall pouring down from the crest far above us. I climbed up and under the waterfall with Jimmy and the view was simply breathtaking. 

We all had a wonderful lunch together on the rocks. I made my specially-delicious guacamole J 

These friends are some of the most wonderful people I’ve yet met and we mesh together so well! It was a special birthday for Fraser, but an equally special day for everyone else as well. 

My first tanzanian operation

My first operation was in Tanzania

Three weeks ago I noticed a soreness under my right arm and a painful lump right under the skin. I immediately felt a little worried, and became more so the next day when the spot began to be red under my arm. I set up an appointment with the school doctor, who just happens to be the parent of one of my flute students. She took a look at my arm later that week and told me that I had a staph infection and would need antibiotics. I got on them the day that I left for my trip to France (see previous blog entry). That whole weekend in France the spot under my arm became quite painful. When the doctor looked at it again the next week, she said that it would need to be cut open- a minor operation that I could be awake for. So, I agreed to meet her the next day and we would do the procedure in the nurse’s office at the school… or so I thought.

I met her at the school, but it was a school holiday that day so the nurse’s office was locked. She had apparently expected this, as she led me behind one of the buildings where there was a picnic table. She rolled out a yoga mat and said, “ok hop up!” … I realized at that point that I was going to have the procedure done on a picnic table under a thatch roof cabana. Haha. Oh, I love being reminded that I’m in Africa. She had all of the sterile supplies, clean medical paper to put under me, and new, unwrapped utensils.

She numbed my arm as I stared up at a gecko climbing upside down on the thatch roof above me. It was actually one of the most pleasant medical experiences I’ve yet had- no waiting time, a doctor I knew, a gecko to distract me, and a very pleasant breeze blowing by on a warm day. At the end of the operation, however, she had to pack the wound.. I won’t go into detail cause it still makes me cringe. Let’s just say that in one fast moment, a shock of intense pain hit me when she did that. I nearly started crying from the pain! It soon subsided, but the shock had caused my heart rate to drop suddenly. She had to lift my legs to get blood back moving faster to my heart. That was over after a moment and I felt like I could stand up and fix my clothes. The only problem was that I hadn’t yet had lunch and immediately after standing up, my blood sugar dropped and I became hypoglycemic! I thumped back down on the table and felt like I was going to be sick. She realized what was going on and ran and got an apple. Apparently I nearly fainted, but she held an apple in front of my face and said, “eat this!” I told her “I will be sick if I eat that.” And she said a little more forcefully “EAT this.” And so I took a big bite of the apple and bonked my head back down on my arms as I tried to chew. But, I managed to do that and within 30 seconds, the nausea was gone and I felt way better.

10 minutes later, I was teaching a piano lesson.

My arm was very sore the next day, but now it has been a little over a week since the experience, and my arm is all healed! YAY!

My Premier Premier

Many have requested that I share the experience I just had last weekend- that of having an orchestral piece performed in France. It wasn’t just any orchestra, however, but it was one very dear to me. I conducted many of those musicians in my debut orchestral conducting performance two years before when I was studying abroad in Aix, France. The director of the orchestra, Michel Camatte, was a true mentor for me while I was studying there and has sense become a sincerely dear friend. About 9 months ago, I sent him the score to my then-recently finished composition, with only slight hopes that their orchestra might agree to play it. But in January, I received the wonderful news that they would play it in April and wanted me to come to hear the performance!

And how time travels so quickly. I wrote this in an earlier blog:
"there are times when I have thought about moments suspended in the future for so long that it feels the future will never arrive, yet alone pass!"

But that’s not how I felt going to France to hear the piece. Reflecting on it now, I find it strange that I didn’t day dream and try to imagine how I would feel, how it would sound, what others would think. Instead, I felt a true sense of calm and, simply, a forward motion. It was, as one friend described it, the next progressive step in my career path. That’s very much how I felt, as if it were something that should be expected of me and which I should expect of myself. When a med student delivers their first baby for example, people don’t think it any feat of impossibility, but it’s simply an important (and yes, significant) task in the journey to grow, learn, and more importantly, to serve.

I think I feel different than most musicians, however, as I truly don’t feel like I fit into any “instrument” category. People usually like category boxes- but I have no desire to choose between conductor, composer, teacher, flutist, pianist, organist, percussionist, and border-line guitarist?

I arrived in France to see the smiling face of my dear friend, Hodg. He had come to meet me at the airport as a surprise- just the first of several surprises of that day. After our BEAUTIFUL three hour train ride to Aix, I ran up to hug my mom, Terry, and (as a surprise!) my grandparents! They had all flown to Italy for holiday and then come on to Aix for the concert. It was really so special to have my grandparents there in particular, because my piece was inspired by and dedicated to my Nana who taught me about “Whippoorwill Winter” in Tennessee—the title and inspiration for my piece.

So the performance time came and we all filled into the Grand Theater in Aix. It was a really fantastic turn out! I hardly ever see free concerts get such a great audience. The orchestra was for the more advanced students at the conservatory in Aix and had many teachers and professional players filling in instrumentation.

It was a very different experience from other times when I’ve had pieces premiered. In university, I always felt so tense, and so judged, when my pieces were being played for the first time. I was always thinking “what is he thinking? What is she thinking? Oh how could I have written such crap?” But I truly think I have graduated from that. Sure, I don’t like everything I’ve written and am writing, but I have finally taken a step in the direction of understanding my own music and appreciating it. So as I sat in the audience, it only felt funny to me because Camatte gave an introduction about me and the piece and it was strange for me to know that hardly anyone in the audience knew who it was that he was talking about… and for the first time, that person was me.

What was going through my head during the performance? I can’t quite recall; it wasn’t a reflective moment for me. I remember being very focused on what was going on in the music, listening intensely to which parts worked and which parts totally didn’t. It was like a learning experience and a composing experience at the same time. I was constantly evaluating what the orchestra was doing and almost mentally willing certain instruments to play louder or softer as they played. When it was finished, it was finished, all in a blur of a moment. So I stood up and bowed and felt proud. But it was almost like auto-pilot. When someone asked me after how I felt, I could only describe it as a very intimate moment- I forgot about anyone else in the audience, I forgot to worry about people coughing or talking during the piece, I forgot about the orchestra even. It was just me and my piece, having a conversation together- the music telling me what to do and what not to do next time. And when you’ve composed a score for so many instruments, it suddenly sounds so simple to hear it played back. All those hours of consideration, just blowing back at your ears in a matter of 10 minutes.

Fortunately, and I didn’t even think of this until now, two very good things happened:

-         Not many people came up to me to tell me that they loved the piece (did my family enjoy it? I don’t remember if they told me! )

-         I did not become a hermit-like snob immediately after the piece, internally scowling at any one who complimented my piece… this has happened to me on many occasions.

So, audio will be coming soon. I’m sorry there’s no video. I thought the concert hall was going to video the performance, but there was some misunderstanding. I know some people will be really disappointed about that, but don’t worry… life goes on.

It was so incredibly wonderful to be in France. I worked with Colette, the artist for Ndoto, for many hours on Saturday. It was humbling and so wonderful to work with her. We had incredibly sweet red strawberries, and fresh creamy cheeses, and sweet wine, and olives soaked in the incredible oils and salts of Provence. I had lunch and dinners with people who were my professors only a couple of years ago; and now they treat me with respect and as a friend—it’s one of the greatest and most astounding feelings I’ve experienced. I feel like I’m slipping slowly but safely into a warm pool that is adulthood. I’m always looking behind me to suddenly realize that I’m no longer where I was. There’s a fresh obligation to teach, to share with others what great minds have taken the time to teach and share with me. But, sometimes I just look up at the sky, gaze at the stunning blue sky, and feel like a child again. Perhaps, and perhaps hopefully, that never goes away.

Whippoorwills and Waltzes

I'm currently counting down the hours until I board a plane to Marseille, France where I will
a) See my mother, step dad, and two "surprise" guests....

b) see my dear friend, Hodg

c) See my dear friend, Aix-en-Provence (where I studied abroad 2 years ago)

d) Hear the premier of my first orchestral piece, Whippoorwill Winter.

Whats a whipporwill, you ask? Well here's what the Cornell Lab of Ornithology says:

Because of its nocturnal habits, the Whip-poor-will is infrequently seen. Its cryptic coloring keeps it hidden during the day, too. However, its loud calling at dusk makes it well known wherever it breeds.

Whats a whipporwill WINTER, you ask? Well here's what some random guy's gardening blog says:

"the last named winter, Whippoorwill Winter, is actually a herald of warmer days coming to stay for the summer. The whippoorwill (Caprimulgus vociferus) migrates from wintering in Mexico to their summer range farther north in late May to early June. Whippoorwill Winter is not as cold as the other winters but still a bit of cold snap, lest we forget.

So that's what my piece is about- singing birds and the last of a cold winter. I think april is the perfect time for such a premier, don't you? It must be just about whippoorwill winter time over in Tennessee!

I'm quite excited. And have no fear, of course recordings will be done. Why do people keep asking me that? I document my life probably more than most people actually want me to...so, yes, of course I'll have video and audio and photos and what-have-ya.

In other news, we had our big Ndoto two-day camp last weekend. WOW! was fun- was intense. About 40 minutes of music and dancing for these kids to learn. Check out the video from the weekend

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uky4fpY3LbQ&list=UUICu2N4RcBKdd-gVKCtCQ1A&index=1&feature=plcp