On my way back to Atlanta to deal with the dreaded taxes (for 2010) I took a slight detour to visit my friends Ruth Barber and Keith Watson, who live near Gatlinburg, Tennessee. Since the city is built on tourism and offers a myriad of Disney-like attractions and rides, I’ve always found it a bit difficult to get beneath the verneer and really learn about the culture of the area. On my last trip through, my friends had introduced me to “the real Gatlinburg – The Great Smoky Arts and Crafts Community.” This time they decided to treat me to a musical tour.
Ruth and Keith left their traditional jobs a few years ago to pursue their true passions – Old Time music, the music of Appalachia that would have been heard in and around the Great Smoky Mountains prior to the 1930’s and hailed from ballads brought over by Scottish and Irish immigrants. They formed their own band, Boogertown Gap, and when the City of Gatlinburg decided to provide free musical performances on the streets of downtown each night during the summer months for the enjoyment of tourists, they were one of the first to be hired. Now, three years later, they are old hands in the Tunes and Tales program, so they introduced me to all the other performers and invited me to tag along as they performed one weekend.
I walked from one end of downtown to the other, my ears peeled for live music. From bluegrass to barbershop to clogging; from country and western to hammer dulcimers, the streets reverberated with tunes of all kinds and, in the case of my friends, songs were accompanied by tales about the history of the various Old Time selections they performed. Visitors grabbed park benches or formed circles around the performers when they stopped to play; in one cases the town had even put out wooden rocking chairs in front of a stage. Gatlinburg may seem a bit touristy, but scratch just below the surface and a whole lotta’ culture bubbles up.
Can’t view the above YouTube video of street kids in Pokhara, Nepal learning to drum? Click here.
The dangerously handsome man sitting at an adjacent table in the Pokhara coffee shop nodded as I wrapped up my interview with two young girls who’s had an abhorrent experience with a local volunteer operator. A jumble of dreadlocks peeked from beneath Hugo Caminero’s rainbow knitted skullcap as he leaned across the aisle and admitted that he’d been eavesdropping. Hugo was also working with children in Nepal, but he’d created his own program rather than pay a firm to arrange a volunteer opportunity. He flashed a seductive smile through his two-day stubble. Would I like to accompany him the following day to see for myself?
Hugo, drummer for the popular Spanish cover band RETO 999, was inspired by the philanthropic works of Carlinhos Brown, a Brazilian percussionist who was born in Candeal Pequeno, a small neighborhood in the Brotas area of Salvador de Bahia, Brazil. As a child, Brown played in dirt streets where human waste flowed; when it rained, excrement and mud washed into the homes. Yet it was the rhythm and percussion sounds from these same rough streets that brought him fame. Hoping to give back, Brown opened a music school in Candeal and formed the musical group Timbalada, recruiting more than 100 percussionists and singers called “timbaleiros,” the majority of them young kids from the streets of Candeal. Timbalada eventually recorded eight albums and toured various countries around the world. Today, largely through the efforts of Brown and Pracatum Social Action Association community action organization also set up by the drummer, the streets of Candeal are paved and free from sewage.
Can’t view the above video of teaching drumming to street children in Pokhara, Nepal? Click here.
Taking his cue from Brown, Hugo bought a dozen drums, flew to Pokhara, and began looking for an orphanage where he could put his skills to use. One day he knocked on the door of the Protection and Rehabilitation Centre for Street Children and soon he was tutoring kids for an hour or so each afternoon in simple rhythms they were sure to master. At a jam session in a local bar one night he met Kim Jinuk, a Korean guitarist, and Pablo Etayo, an amateur musician from Basque Spain who had studied music therapy. And then there were three.
The next afternoon, Hugo led me through a maze of Pokhara’s dirt back streets on a shortcut to the highway, where the inconspicuous centre concealed itself behind a low concrete wall. A door cracked open we were ushered inside, where raggedy urchins immediately latched onto our legs, our clothes, whatever they could grasp. They bickered and pummeled one another; one young boy performed backflips from a nearby bench hoping to win our attention. Utter chaos reigned until Hugo broke out the drums.
Forming an orderly circle in the center of the courtyard, the children focused on Hugo as he drilled them on their respective parts.
“Ick, dui, tin, char!” One, two three, four.
Within minutes the undisciplined mob was transformed into a cohesive unit, automatically working together for the good of the group. It was quite remarkable to witness and it wouldn’t surprise me to see these kids performing in a major parade someday, featured as one of the world’s great rags to riches stories.
Standing on street corners amidst clamorous horns and revving engines in Kathmandu and Pokhara, young musicians play sarangis, a traditional handmade wooden Nepali folk instrument that resembles a small fiddle. Although the sarangi is today used by many, it was traditionally played only by people of Gandarva, or Gaine caste, as they are commonly known. The most famous of sarangi musicians, Jhalakman Gandarva, in 1962 produced the song, “Amale Sodlin, Khoi, Chhora Bhanlin (My Mother Will Ask Where Her Boy Is),” a narrative folk song about a Gurkha soldier’s final words of remembrance to his family as he lies dying of a wound to his head in World War II. Jhalakman is the first singer to record Gaine song and bring the voice of his indigenous people to the masses.
Today, Gaine caste members like brothers-in-law Sandu Kancha Gandarva and Bukun Gandarva are are working to preserve the culture of the sarangi. Hailing from Tanahun, the two were born and raised in a family where the sarangi was a way of life. Sanu Kancha, who is a founding member of the Gandarva Culture and Art Organization, left his village at the age of 12 and came to Kathmandu to seek his fortune. He made and played sarangi on the streets in those early days, selling the instruments to tourists for three and four times what it cost to make them. Fifteen years ago, Bukun came to Kathmandu to begin working with his brother-in-law ; today he performs nightly at Bhojan Griha Restaurant in Thamel, the backpacker area of the city, and gives sarangi lessons during the day. Continue reading