Room to breathe
Well, it’s been quite a hectic trip! In mostly good ways. I’ve spent much of my time here with another visitor from Canada who is launching his new book, which I highly recommend to anyone who is interested in Congolese music. It’s called Rumba Rules, it’s written in English, and published in the U.S. by Duke University Press. The author is Bob W. White - a spectacular scholar and a top-class human being. But don’t take my word for it! Check out the book! It is the fruit of a research project much like mine: different in that it took place when the Congo was Zaire and Mobutu was still in power, and that Bob actually performed with a professional Congolese band - he was an atalaku with Defao and his Big Stars.
So I’ve been having the opportunity to sit in on research group meetings, attend events at several universities around Kinshasa, and even sit in the studio for a TV interview with Bob about his book. It’s been non-stop action, and has been very enriching (and fun, I must admit)!
I’ve also had my own itinerary - seeing friends and visiting my old haunts to see how things have changed; my old guitar maitre Gianni is actually in North America now to do some concerts, and he is sorely missed. The U.S. Cultural Center organized a two-part lecture series where I spoke to local journalists, artists and academics. There were some very interesting conversations, I made some good contacts, and apparently I was on TV the other day playing the guitar and singing (part of my presentation). I know this because a man approached me while I waited for a taxi yesterday and said, “hey, aren’t you the American who sings in Lingala? I saw you on TV yesterday!”
Today I’m attending the final ceremony of a two-week English immersion program. Yesterday I gave a brief presentation to this group, which was really fun. The program is quite similar to my “alma mater” of sorts - Concordia Language Villages - although here the camp is only a day-camp, not an overnight camp.
What else? I’ve made some friends in my new neighborhood, which is always nice, and had some nice chats with the “grown-ups” around my old stomping ground, as well as my former next-door neighbor. The most common question I’m getting this time around is “how did you choose Congolese music and Lingala?” I haven’t quite found the perfect response yet, actually, but I’m working on it.
There’s also the usual mix of annoyance and hilarity that goes with the various random strangers that approach and try to “make a connection” using different tactics. Last night I was explaining to a group of Congolese friends in the car that in our (western) culture, people tend to be quite solitary, and that personal space has very well-defined and well-defended limits. They were asking me why people are so afraid of Kinshasa, and it was the first time I took this tack in answering. Usually I say that it has to do with people being very attached to their material possessions (it’s true that people have things stolen very often, but violent crime is very uncommon for a city this big), but this time I was talking about this idea of the violation of an unspoken personal space (which I really experienced to a high degree for the first time in Morocco) as an act of aggression. In other words, in some cultures, there are actions that are considered acceptable and are in no way a prelude to violence, but to someone from another culture (a more “private” one, perhaps), these actions not only feel aggressive, but actually constitute an act of aggression or violation. How about an example, eh? What about a stranger starting to walk next to you while you were alone, minding your own business, trying to talk to you, and then opening another car door as you start to step into a car. Sound scary? Sound like a prelude to violence? For me, it’s hard for it to not feel that way.
Another thing I’d forgotten about Kinshasa is that most people here (especially children) address me as mundele, even the first time they see me. This just totally couldn’t happen in Johannesburg, I think. A friend yesterday said, when I pointed this out, “but in the U.S., when a black person walks up to a group of white people, aren’t they surprised to see him?” The answer, obviously, is often “yes,” but I was trying to explain that calling out someone’s racial category when you see them just isn’t socially acceptable in the U.S.
OK I feel like I’m meandering now… more later!