The Impressions's We're In Love

I love The Impressions and I love Curtis Mayfield. Chicago soul for the rest of my life.

Preta Pretinha

One of the most beautiful songs I've ever had the luxury of hearing is "Preta Pretinha" by Novos Baianos, a band from Salvador da Bahia. The song's lovely violão and percussionists do very well here,  as well as the vocalist. I am not entirely sure what the song is about, but the title refers to a black, black woman. Preta means black and pretinha would be a term of endearment used for a black person. Regardless of the song's meaning, it's a band from Salvador da Bahia singing a gorgeous melody! Check it out live, here.

Laiá Larará Lararará Larará

Preta, Preta, Pretinha!

Preta, Preta, Pretinha!

Preta, Preta, pretinha!

Preta, Preta, Pretinha!

Enquanto eu corria

Assim eu ía

Lhe chamar!

Enquanto corria a barca

Lhe chamar!

Enquanto corria a barca

Lhe chamar!

Enquanto corria a barca...

Por minha cabeça não passava

Só! Somente Só!

Assim vou lhe chamar

Assim você vai ser

Só! Só! Somente Só!

Assim vou lhe chamar

Assim você vai ser

Só! Somente Só!

Assim vou lhe chamar

Assim você vai ser

Só! Só! Somente Só!

Assim vou lhe chamar

Assim você vai ser...

Eu ía lhe chamar!

Enquanto corria a barca

Eu ía lhe chamar!

Enquanto corria a barca

Lhe chamar!

Enquanto corria a barca

Eu ía lhe chamar!

Enquanto corria a barca

Eu ía lhe chamar!

Enquanto corria a barca

Lhe chamar!

Enquanto corria a barca...

Abre a porta e a janela

E vem ver o sol nascer...(6x)

Eu sou um pássaro

Que vivo avoando

Vivo avoando

Sem nunca mais parar

Ai Ai! Ai Ai! Saudade

Não venha me matar

Ai Ai! Ai Ai! Saudade

Não venha me matar

Ai Ai! Saudade

Não venha me matar

Ai Ai! Ai Ai! Saudade

Não venha me matar...

Lhe chamar!

Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart

"The Commissioner went away, taking three or four of the soldiers with him. In the many years in which he had toiled to bring civilization to different parts of Africa he had learned a number of things. One of them was that a District Commissioner must never attend to such undignified details as cutting a hanged man from the tree. Such attention would give the natives a poor opinion of him. In the book which he planned to write he would stress that point. As he walked back to the court he thought about that book. Every day brought him some new material. The story of this man who had killed a messenger and hanged himself would make interesting reading. One could almost write a whole chapter on him. Perhaps not a whole chapter but a reasonable paragraph, at any rate. There was so much else to include, and one must be firm in cutting out details. He had already chosen the title of the book, after much thought: The Pacification of the Primitive Tribes of the Lower Niger. 

I have shared a previous essay on Achebe's masterpiece in the early years of this blog, which can be accessed here for any interested party. It's based on an essay from a World Literature course in my senior year of high school. Emphasizing the obvious tragic hero elements of Okonkwo, the essay, in retrospect, is nothing revelatory or that interesting. However, since I was forced to re-read the text for a current course where I will have an exam on the novel, the obvious gender dynamics of the novel require critical lens. Unfortunately, due to a heavy workload for several classes, I cannot do justice to this novel's intersections of race, gender, and colonialism, but I am sure such analyses have already been completed. Nevertheless, Achebe's brilliantly crafted fiction avoids many of the common tropes of certain manifestations of Afrocentrism, which seem to romanticize pre-colonial Africa. Achebe shows vividly how patriarchal and problematic Ibo society was before colonialism, particularly in the leaving twin infants to die and other seemingly brutal rituals, in addition to extreme patriarchal social organization. His narration also facilitates a novel interspersed with oral tradition, song, and language, representing the continued legacy and relevance of ancient Ibo culture to the present.

Anyway, Achebe's essay on Conrad's Heart of Darkness is also worth reading and writing a post about, but I have not read that novella since high school. 

Matana Roberts's Coin Coin Chapter One: Gens de Couleur Libres

1. "Rise"   7:28
2. "Pov Piti"   7:41
3. "Song For Eulalie"   8:26
4. "Kersaia"   7:33
5. "Libation For Mr. Brown: Bid 'em In..."   9:48
6. "Lulla/Bye"   5:54
7. "I Am"   10:06
8. "How Much Would You Cost?"   4:19

I highly recommend this free jazz blast of Black history, beginning with Marie-Therese Metoyer, or Coin Coin, an enslaved woman in Louisiana whose progeny would include wealthy gens de coleur libres who owned the Melrose estate. Indeed, famed African-American artist, Clementine Hunter, is a descendant of slaves on the very same plantation the enslaved Coin Coin's descendants would own when her mixed-race children were recognized as free. The album fuses free jazz with traditional music, spoken word, and straight ahead jazz to allow Matana Roberts, alto saxophonist who has Louisiana roots, to tell the story of Coin Coin and slavery. Several of the song titles, lyrics, and music allude to Louisiana folk music, Louisiana Creole, and the horrors of life as a black slave in 18th and 19th century Louisiana. A conceptual suite, the album demands a full listen the entire way through, which may be a bit trying for those not interested in free jazz, Roberts's occasional screams, and spoken poetry. She also has a tendency to shift in tempos and genre within the same track, going between experimental free jazz, folk, and other genres whilst somehow pulling off the seemingly impossible fusion. 

At times Roberts uses Latin rhythms and the songs merge with similar melodies. Thus, "Rise" and "Kersaia" are very similar in melody and identical rhythmically in the first 2 minutes. Around 5 minutes into the latter, she begins to emulate New Orleans trad jazz or Carnival music, showing you the great depths to which Roberts will go to portray African-American history and culture. My favorite track may be "Libation for Mr. Brown..." which is a tribute to Oscar Brown, a lyricist who worked with Max Roach on his black civil rights album, We Insist! Max Roach's Freedom Now Suite. Roberts does a cover of a song by him about a slave being sold at an auction. Here is the original, which, unfortunately, does not break out into a swing jam like Roberts's cover. The final track, "How Much Would You Cost?" makes a reference to the calenda dance, which was also popular in 18th century Haiti. It's more of a folk song with clear vocals by Roberts. She devotes the calenda to her mother, and, by extension, her family's Afro-Caribbean or Afro-Louisianan roots. Overall, an enjoyable, albeit trying, free jazz album. 

Matana Roberts has also performed the album live, which can be listened to here, here, and there. Check out Max Roach's album, too, if you're interested in more political jazz about African American history. Here is a live version of the album from German television.

Marie Laveau

Papa Celestin's "Marie Laveau" is a catchy song about Marie Laveau, "Voodoo Queen" of 19th century New Orleans. Apparently Desiree Rogers is a descendant of her, if you know who that is.

Malayisha

"Malayisha" is a fun, bouncy South African tune sung in Xhosa, I believe. I cannot tell if it's a traditional song or not, but Miriam Makeba as well as The Manhattan Brothers, a group she performed with, have recorded versions of the song in what may be the mbaqanga style or marabi style. Anywho, if it is a folk song, then it appears to be a work song about a lumberjack. Enjoy!

Miriam Makeba's version is my favorite. Her voice soars above and beyond the chorus in that irresistible style and beautiful lyrics.

The Manhattan Brothers try, but fall far behind Miriam Makeba. Their version is more rooted in kwela and marabi, probably because it was recorded in the 1950s. Catchy, though not nearly as powerful, in terms of vocals, than that of Mama Africa.

Ginette Ravel does a nice cover based on Makeba's that's not unbearable. Here is a European version that ain't too bad, either.

A South African choir sings "Malayisha" here and it's also quite infectious. Unfortunately, it begins with a Zulu song that isn't nearly quite as playful or upbeat.

Ferdinand Oyono's Houseboy

“I could not hold myself from shaking as I watched. It was terrible. I thought of all the priests, all the pastors, all the white men, who come to save our souls and preach love of our neighbors. Is the white man’s neighbor only other white men? Who can go on believing the stuff we are served up in the churches when things happen like I saw today...”

Ferdinand Oyono's short novel, Housboy, is a brief exposé on the brutality of European colonialism in Cameroon. The protagonist, Toundi, dies but leaves a diary telling his life story, which is discovered by a Frenchman who then translate it into French, framing the novel. Sent in Dangan, Toundi, a houseboy, or domestic servant, grows up wanting to be like the whites, but gradually discovers the myths and lies of white European superiority constructed by colonial authorities. Soon, Toundi uncovers the sexual dalliances of Catholic officials, infidelity on the parts of whites, including the Commandant and the prison-director, Moreau, and the corrupt system of justice which relies on torture and exploitation of local peoples. Thus, the novel, published in 1956, is also part of the negritude literary movement because it criticizes European colonialism while defending local African cultural practices and history. For instance, Toundi begins to lose his fear and respect for the Commandant when he sees he is not circumcised like all men in his own community. Furthermore, the whites' hypocrisy and reliance on violence for exploitation, as well as the deviation from Christian morality, force Toundi to realize that the whites were  not nearly as good as he thought they were when he fled from his abusive father.

In the end, Toundi becomes a scapegoat for the theft of a cashbox from a white agricultural engineer by his African lover, Sophie. Toundi's tragic death, upon discovery of the excessive cruelty and savagery of the whites, challenges the myth of white supremacy. For instance, Africans are described as savage by whites for being polygamous, pagan, and culturally inferior, but white Europeans in Cameroon do the very things they attack as evidence of African barbarity. However, the diary of Toundi begins with the claim that his ancestors practiced cannibalism. From the little research I have done for classes or personal enrichment, the evidence for widespread cannibalism is largely a myth from 19th century white European writers about the Fang people of modern Gabon and Cameroon. White Europeans, wanting to find evidence for what was not there, insinuated that the Fang rituals and use of human bones for relics or their numerous military conflicts, were all driven by a desire for human flesh. In truth, there has yet to be any irrefutable evidence of cannibalism in Cameroon (or any other part of Africa). 

Anyway, if you want to read a short novel about colonialism in Cameroon, check out Houseboy. There is not too much character development, but it reveals a lot about contradictions of white colonialism, different concepts of gender for Cameroonians and Europeans, as well as providing a portrait of colonialism from an African's perspective. The segregated African township and white quarter, a hospital in Dangan known as "The Blackmen's grave," and violence and exploitation of Africans for increasing the wealth of whites are just some vivid examples of colonialism's dehumanizing character. Yet, there is victory in the end, despite the death of Toundi. His discovery, as well as the discovery by other blacks of Dangan about the hypocrisy of the whites, will eventually topple European rule and usher in the era of independence.

The African Diaspora in Rio de la Plata: Uruguay and Argentina