CULTURE IS OUR PRIDE : ” AMAWUMBO” dansers and musicians company

Africa and its colours, Africa and its landscapes, Africa and its music, Africa and its dance.

Ever since the dawn of times, this continent gave hope and envy to people and explorers from the XXIIIrd and XXth centuries to discover all about it.

How to get to know a country better than travelling through its culture, music and dances?

< Amawumbo > as they’re called are dancers from Zimbabwe, a country from central Africa close to Zambia, Mozambique, Botswana and South Africa. For a few weeks now, this country has been in the front line of the international scene with an epidemy of cholera and a worrisome political situation but there it has so many other things to teach us than just that.

Alexander, leader of this group; who’s name has an English consonance, he owes it to his country history which was a British colony taking part in the apartheid at the time it was called Rhodesia, and they acquired their political independence in 1980.

This summer, while coming back from the Amawumbo’s dancer group show they had just performed, heart filled with Africa’s history which took place throughout dances and heads full of drums rhythms, I couldn’t help myself but to share a few lines with you of that pleasure invading me by looking and listening to them on stage. I couldn’t imagine that a handful of months later, I’d have the pleasure of sharing moments of Alexander Mhlanga’s life of this band (whom is currently in Sweden to give a new dimension to it).

Alexander, you were born in Bulawayo (Zimbabwe’s second biggest city) in the spring of 1978 in one of these little townships of the South African border where the apartheid was in full effect. Let’s hear about your childhood.

“I grew up in a little town called njube where I went to Helemu primary school and then on to mpopoma high school. Nothing predisposed me to become a dancer and to be the initiator of such a big and important project as the creation of the professional dancers and musicians company (became today one of the best in the country)…Amawumbo.

Revelation or child dreams? What brought you to perform on stage?

At the time, I was a soccer player like many young African people; my future seemed to be planned. But something was going to change my life, not a meeting but… music. I had an invitation from dancer friends that I gladly accepted. As soon as I heard drum sounds, I was touched both in my heart and soul. The following day, I took the decision to belong to “the young warrior” group (in 1995), which was headed by the late Norman Takawira (1964-2003). I learnt a lot by studying African dances from different regions of the Zimbabwe and by doing local tours. In 1997, l was a founder member of Umkhathi theatre Works which was a household name in this country. I felt we became more powerful.

I came back to Njube to teach drama, music and dance in the local high school. My group and I started projects giving chances to children to learn more about art feats. I worked on some choreography for school competition which got first place. After that, I also arranged some weddings and private parties.

At the end, I discovered my talents and the power of our culture that made me continue this way. And when I was more in touched with my community, I’ve found out there were school drop outs, unwilling pregnant women, drugs and illness. Then I had the idea to create a dance company to bring a change for people to give them hope and a chance to rediscover themselves.

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So, in 2000, I took them away from crimes and poverty by creating the professional Amawumbo Dance Company. It was a real success; we had more than 50 full time members.

When we programmed a tour, we had to cast. When we organised the tour, we had to cast during that period and we collected clothes and other stuff for our home community. It gave hope and life to our brothers. As you may not know, Amawumbo means “power to make it in life”. In 2003, we made a website that helped us raise awareness of our group. Thanks to that, we had a lot of invitations to perform in various awesome places like England, Sweden, Germany, France, Belgium, South Africa, Botswana and Zambia.

So far, we’ve worked with people from the USA, Gambia, France, England, Australia, Canada and a lot more!

Without any sponsors of funding, we strived to make it all worthwhile. I’ve tried my best to create employment in this artistic world. Culture is our pride because it’s our art, I really mean it.

For now, my challenge is to find enough money to fund a new project called “Amandla Esikolakwethu” (which means the spirit of our alive traditions). There is a compile DVD. We will shot the film in our wonderful places such as Great Zimbabwe, Nyanga, Matapos, and Victoria falls. I think this project will be really interesting.

I came to Sweden with a goal in mind and that is to find enough money and to attract different sponsors to my project (which takes place during the upcoming summer in the same time as our next tour). I’m organizing workshops and working with foreign dancers to accomplish that goal and to make an impact for the discriminated of my country and ultimately on the world.

Our next meeting with the European public will be in a few months on the beautiful scenes of Spain and Portugal…”

“AMAWUMBO” ZIMBABWE DANCE COMPANY:culture is our pride

Africa and its colours, Africa and its landscapes, Africa and its music, Africa and its dances.

 

For a long time the continent make people want to discover it; explorers in the  XXIII th century or travelers in the XX th.

 

How better introduice somebody to a country than travelling through its culture, with its music and its dances.

 

“Amawumbo” are dancers from Zimbabwe, a central Africa country, close to Zambia , Mozambique , Botswana and  South Africa. This country for some weeks hold central stage with an epidemic of cholera and a worrisome political situation but it has so many other things to learn us.

 

Alexander is the leader of this group; his name with English consonance ,bring in it the history of his country which was a British colony practising the apartheid when it was called Rhodésie and which  acquired its political independence in 1980. 

This summer, coming back from a show the group of dancers “amawumbo” had just given, the heart still filled with the history of Africa which had taken place through the dances and the head filled with the rhythm of drums I was not able to stop myself to share with you writing some words, this pleasure which had invaded me by paying attention and looking at them on stage. I did not imagine that some monthes later I would have the pleasure to share moments of Alexander Mhlang’s life,the creator of this group, actually in suede to give a new dimension to his company.

Alexander, you were born to Bulawayo the second city of Zimbabwe in spring, 1978 , in one of these township that the apartheid , which raged then in your country, spread out on the South of the African continent. Speak about your childhood.

I grew up in a township called njube and i went to helemu primaru scchool and for my secondary education I went to Mpopoma high school 

 

 Amawoubo ” already carries in its name the soul of Africa . what the meaning of this word ?

Amawumbo means power to make it in life

you created this group 9 years ago , can you explain why and when this idea come into your thoughts ?
in 2000 you were students , you wanted to be a dancer or it’s by a stroke of luke that you choice this job

friends invited me to come and watch them dance, as soon as l stepped in the room, the music and the drums where playing ,it hit me in my heart and touched my soul in a very big way so the next day l went back to join a group ,at that in 1995, called young warriors led by the late Norman Takawira.

I learnt a lot ,studying african dance from different regions in Zimbabwe and toured locally,then in 1997 ,l was also a founder member of Umkhathi theatre Works a household name in the arts in zimbabwe. We became powerful back home, so we started projects in grassroots level to teach younger people performing arts , so l was teaching Njube high school and they had anti aids awareness club, so l was teaching drama ,music and dance ,and one time came a schools competition so l did a choreography for them and they came first and l would arrange shows in weddings and private parties ;
it was then l discovered my talents and the power of our culture so after others finished school and wanted to continue . When l looked in my community , they were lots of drop outs from school and some falling pregnant ,drugs and illness  ,so l thought to make a dance company that will make these guys discover themselves ,and give them hope so l drive them away from crime and poverty;So in year 2000 I professionally formed Amawumbo Dance Company
And it we got a big following it has members up to 50 members part time and
full time we have junior policy as well ,then when it is time for tour l select the cast for that tour during our tour we also collect clothes and kind to give back to the communities back home ,it has given them hope and life to see their bright future,Amawumbo have graced places like england,sweden,greenland ,germany ,france ,belguim,south africa,botswana,zambia;

We have also worked with people from usa,gambia,france,england,australia,canada and more
We strive to make it a worth while even without sponsor or funding ,l have fought in my belief that l will do it and show the best in our people create employment for then in a very artistical way  culture is our pride

 i work with different cast depending on the work ,we also do workshops

my next project is called amandla esikolakwethu it means in english in the spirit of our living traditions ,it is a dvd compilation ,the videos ,are going to be shot in our places of wonders like great zimbabwe,nyanga, matopos and victoria falls to mention but a few ,these a heritage sites of zimbabwe and l believe it is going to be a good project
but l have no funding for it that is why l came to sweden to raise this money before the summer of our tour
it is not easy but l will fight not give up

if only we can find generous people who want to help amawumbo
financially it will be easy to make our dreams come true

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alexander speaks africaaner and  english ,but  my english is not good enough to correct what he says to me cause i’m afraid to give some faults more  …

thanks to you if you correct this text by adding right sentences in the com …

PREMIER REGARD SUR GAO

La grille du jardin de l’hotel vient de s’ouvrir et un Touareg vient vers nous. Il porte un superbe  boubou de la couleur du cuivre rouge ,ses cheveux comme à leur habitude sont ceints d’un chèche foncé. Je le regarde s’approcher .C’est vrai qu’ils ont belle prestance , le corps drapé jusqu’aux pieds ,dans ce tissus soyeux qui se balance au rythme de leurs pas …je ne vois que ses yeux qui semblent me regarder avec insistance et à ce moment là , je réalise : c’est  Moussa qui pour un temps , a quitté son habit indigo !

Cette apparition me laisse une étrange impression: Moussa en France ,  seul vêtu de son habit bleu, cela ne m’etonne plus , mais là , parmi d’autres vêtements traditionnels cela me permet de réaliser que cette fois ce n’est plus un rêve, nous sommes au pays des Touareg…

 Il s’approche de nous pour nous souhaiter la bienvenue et son apparition ne perturbe en aucune façon les habitudes des oiseaux : dans un nimier , un tilabert couve ses oeufs dans un nid posé en equilibre entre deux branches tandis qu’au dessus de nous un toujoumba  (en songhai) superbe oiseau jaune, avec application transporte inlassablement quelques nouvelles brindilles pour perfectionner son nid , dans lequel par instant il disparait par une petite ouverture placée sur le dessous de cette forme ovoide qui pend de la branche..

Ibrahim , visage jovial et toujours souriant, entre à son tour dans le jardin ombragé de l’hotel suivi de près par la jeune femme de l’ aéroport.
une voix douce repond à mon bonjour :
…enchantée ! et moi je m’appelle Blanche de Richemont “

j’ai lu son nom sur la page de garde du livre de Moussa mais le “de” m’avait laissé croire à une frêle et vieille demoiselle. En fait ,elle ressemblait dans mon imagination à la princesse russe très agée , qu’il m’avait été permis de connaître il y a quelques 20 ans . Vieille dame charmante , comme sortie d’un livre , qui disparaissait au fond d’un immense fauteuil , petite dame poussiéreuse , transparente à force d’être fragile . Son neveu , jeune homme d’une autre époque lui aussi , se tenait debout derrière , la main posée négligemment sur le dossier , et sur le mur  la gravure d’un tsar… Cette image que j’avais chassée de mes souvenirs me saute au visage lorsque je decouvre la véritable Blanche de Richemont et qui n’a rien à voir avec celle que j’ imaginais !

Elle est écrivain , amoureuse et spécialiste des déserts …. nous apprendrons quelques jours plus tard qu’elle est là aussi pour apporter les dernières modifications à son prochain livre ” l’ éloge du désir”

Nous les laissons à leur discussion , Mossa vient d’arriver et nous propose de découvrir Gao. Notre guide , cet après midi s’appelle Sidi , c’est un cousin de Mossa .
 En fait ici tout se passe en famille , l’agence de voyage est celle de Mossa et les guides et chauffeurs ses cousins … Sidi ,savez vous ce que cela signifie en langue arabe ? : saint , je l’ai appris il y a quelques années en  flânant dans les ruelles de Sidi Boussaïd en Tunisie.

Gao ne se raconte pas , il faut s’y promener pour la saisir.
Une seule route goudronnée traverse la ville , toutes les autres rues , aussi larges pourtant, sont d’un sable orangé , bordées de maisons de cette même teinte chaude ou parfois se mèle la couleur plus grise de l’argile . De longs murs de même matériau occultent les jardins , car toute maison possède son jardin pour y élever quelques chèvres , où pour s’y retrouver, à l’ombre d’un arbre parfois, pour boire les trois thés traditionnels.

Le centre ville ne se prétend pas différent , sinon que s’y regroupent les divers ministères et administrations. Le long des ruelles du marché un bric-à-brac d’objets se  côtoie : des vis , des chaussures , des tissus , des plaques de sel… Une petite fille à la peau d’ébène , avec application tresse les cheveux d’une autre enfant , un bébé s’est assoupi dans le dos de sa maman , un couturier devant sa machine “singer des années 40 ” tire d’un morceau de tissus multicolore un pantalon non moins riche en couleur. Au coin d’une rue, quelques chèvres se dressent fièrement sur une montagne d’ immondices ; cela me remet en mémoire quelque phrase de Daudet parlant le la chèvre de mr Seguin : “et de se voir si haut perchée elle se croit au moins aussi grande que le monde”

<div style=”text-align: left”><a href=”http://tannemert.blogs-de-voyage.fr/media/02/02/0585f2d2edaa191fb45ba34ad7013ee4.jpg” target=”_blank”><img src=”http://tannemert.blogs-de-voyage.fr/media/02/02/0585f2d2edaa191fb45ba34ad7013ee4.jpg” id=”media-57174″ title=”gao,afrique,mali,commerce,achats,scene de vie , carnet de voyage,photos” alt=”0585f2d2edaa191fb45ba34ad7013ee4.jpg” style=”border-width: 0; margin: 0.7em 0;” /></a></div>

Sidi nous a entraîné à sa suite dans une sorte de halle marchande , ceinte de hauts murs qui assombrissent le lieu. Un veritable labyrinthe se déroule devant nous avec de chaque coté de minuscules réduits dans lesquel s’entassent parfois dans un équilibre très précaire , des chaussures, des tissus et mille autres choses encore. Il nous faut nous frayer un passage entre les sacs , caisses qui obstruent un passage si étroit que dejà sans ces monticules de paquets deux personnes ont du mal à s’y croiser, sans patauger dans la boue qui s’étale par endroits.

Le jeune Touareg , après quelques serrements de mains , quelques mots jetés dans une langue “rugueuse” , à l’un ou à l’autre , semblant ne pas trouver ce qu’il souhaite , franchit une étroite porte , Arnaud et moi toujours sur ses talons. La clarté du soleil nous saute au visage, alors que la chaleur aussitôt nous enveloppe…
Nous traversons encore quelques dédales de rues, pour arriver sur une grand avenue de sable qui borde le fleuve.
Sur les rives du Niger c’est un autre univers grouillant de monde . Assis sur le parapet nous jouons les indiscrets car quelques femmes qui font leur toilette dans une eau plus que douteuse , d’un geste impérieux de la main nous font signe de ne pas les photographier . Même sans cela , je n’aurais pas de toutes manières fait un cliché de ce moment d’intimité , un peu plus loin un autre groupe de femmes lave leur linge  .  Des enfants jouent au ballon tandis que près d’eux des petits groupes de chèvres et  des moutons déambulent , sous le regard indifférent d’un zébu.

<div style=”text-align: right”><a href=”http://tannemert.blogs-de-voyage.fr/media/00/02/0e22db22cd5e8ad7ca7afb4d9c5ca1c0.jpg” target=”_blank”><img src=”http://tannemert.blogs-de-voyage.fr/media/00/02/0e22db22cd5e8ad7ca7afb4d9c5ca1c0.jpg” id=”media-57175″ title=”feluve niger,gao,afrique,enfants ,photos,peuple,société” alt=”0e22db22cd5e8ad7ca7afb4d9c5ca1c0.jpg” style=”border-width: 0; margin: 0.7em 0;” /></a></div>

Au loin des pirogues s’éloignent … Animaux , hommes, fourrage et mille autres choses se disputent une place sur les pirogues dont certaines voient le niveau de l’eau s’avancer inexorablement vers le plat bord et prennent des allures de radeau plutôt que de barque.
 Sur les quais, c’est un mélange de couleurs bigarrées : le bleu des Touareg mais aussi les teintes violines , indigo, vertes de leurs boubous , les couleurs acidulées des robes des femmes Bambara ou Songhai. Un petit âne passe près de moi chargé de paille alors que quatre jeunes hommes rentrent des champs , leurs outils de travail d’un autre temps , sur l’épaule …mais déjà mon regard est attiré par autre chose… et j’ai beau écarquiller mes yeux je ne parviens pas à tout voir. Un Peul vient d’être hapé par la foule et je ne vois plus que son chapeau qui émerge d’une marée humaine. D’un pas rapide un autre malien apparait tenant courte une corde à laquelle est attaché un gigantesque bélier,le temps d’ajuster mon appareil et …trop tard , la foule se referme sur lui.

Pour retourner à l’ hôtel nous longeons les jardins d’une belle demeure , les bougainvillées ploient sous les fleurs roses et blanches qui se gorgent de soleil , un peu plus loin ont été plantés quelques dizaines d’arbres , bien alignés . Dans quelques années ils offriront une ombre bienfaitrice au promeneurs , mais aujourd’hui on se prend à penser qu’ils sont bien trop chétifs pour survivre. …

EN PREPARANT LE VOYAGE POUR LE MALI

Coincés entre le nom des maures, des sonhgoi et des peulhs , les touareg étaient dans ma mémoire parmi les 14 millions d’habitants de l’ AOF , aux beaux jours de la colonisation française , quand Joseph Galieni n’etait pas encore le nom d’une rue ou un boulevard

Bien sûr j’entendais parfois le nom de Mali surgir sur un média mais que savais je de la réalité du peuple malien , des ethnies qui s’y cottoient , des difficultés de ce peuple pourtant le plus pauvre du monde.

Une information en poussant une autre , la guerre du golfe avait occulté pour moi les problemes touareg au mali dans les années 90 et puis l’homme est égoiste , la naissance de mon fils , la preparation de sa chambre puis plus tard de ses biberons ont occupé plus mon esprit que les misères du monde.

Arte venant heureusement à mon secours, me fit decouvrir les touareg un peu mieux que je ne les connaissais en me faisant apprécier la chaleur de leur accueil dans leurs campements, la beauté de leur musique …c’est donc le coeur rempli de rêves que nous nous envolions quelques semaines plus tard mon fils arnaud et moi ; le dernier mail de notre ami en main nous pouvions imaginer tout ce que nous allions faire , simples mots pour l’instant sur la feuille mais déjà porteurs de magie …decouvrir le désert pendant une promenade à dos de dromadaire, apprendre avec les bergers à s’occuper des bêtes, rencontrer des animaux près du campement , se retrouver le soir auprès du feu pour entendre des legendes touareg au son de la musique ….et puis à Gao faire connaissance avec l’autre Mali , celui des africains avec son marché , des boubous et des djembé….

malaria ….

A clinical trial on “a sample group” of several sick Malian had convincing resultats with regard to try of a new vaccine. One of the persons is cured whereas 40 others show very promising signs of immunity.
To claim victory after an etude on only 60 persons is a little bit “premature “  do you think thus,  look at the tries on the cosmetic cream you buy :the  number of persons who tested this “produit” is often less than 100
so , why don’t think it ’s a right way . It is not forbidden to dream either in a case or in the other one…. at any rate ,  this article which says to be from “on good authority” let think that this first try made on sick Malian was a was a success which opens the essays today on less than 6 years old malian
you can read the end of this note,  in french , on my other blog “awanekkinnan”

BY PREPARING THE JOURNEY TO MALI

Clamped between the name of the Moors, sonhgoi and peulhs, Tuareg were in my memory among the 14 million inhabitants of the AOF, in the beautiful days the French colonization, when Joseph Galieni was not still the name of a street or a boulevardNaturally I sometimes heard the name of Mali on a media , but what I knew of the reality of the Malian people, and the ethnic groups who live closed to them , difficulties of these people ,nevertheless the poorest of the world was occured by others news.An information pushing the other one, the Gulf War had hidten for me Tuareg’s problems in Mali  during the 90’s and then the man is selfish my private problems occured in my spirit more than the miseries of the world.“Arte TV” coming fortunately to my help, i could dicover tuareg life a little : the warmly of their welcome , the beauty of their landscape and music … and it is with a  heart full with dreams that we  fly away some weeks later ; the last e-mail of our friend in my hand we could imagine all was expecting us, only  words on the sheet for the moment,  but already carrier of magic: discover the desert during a ride on a camel , learn with the shepherds ,  meet animals near the camp, and close to a fire , in the night, drink a tea listening to the old tuaregs legends …. and then  Gao , with the market , the bubus , and the african rythms of the djembe….

you can hear this note : http://podcasts.odiogo.com/tannemert/podcasts-html.php

CAR AND CHOCOLATE

THE CHOCOLATE ! we eat it, we drink it, we use it for massages, but do you know  that we can use it in you car .Some days ago two ecologists left England to go to AFRICA , at  Timbuktu in Mali crossing France, Spain, Morocco, Mauritania and then Timbuctu closed to the niger river ,in MaliAndy and John,( one is ingenieur, the other electrician ) want to make something for the planete: the truck with which they travel , works with a biofuel on base of chocolate, less polluting  that fossil fuels. Their truck (a  Ford ) will transport two  land cruisers 4X4  they’ll used for the ending kilometersDo not imagine to be in the film “return towards the future“! the 2000 litres of  the fuel they must carry for the journey is a  subtle mix of cocoa butter, of caustic soda ,and  methanol. Do not think that it is the delicieux smell of warm chocolate that will follow the vehicule!The truck and the two 4X4 will be offered in Mali to a charity organisation ,  they accompany their present of a device allowing to transform the worn oil by running.

thanks to correct the faults of my text ! i only speak a little in english but you can the one i write in french on my other blog “tannemert”

on my blog “awanekkinnan” you can read other notes

you can hear the text too

sorry for this long silence

My english is too bad but I hope I’ll find a person who can help be for writing my notes in english . YOU want to help a bit… I would like to translate my daily travel , you can read it in french on my other blog “tannemert” http://tannemert.blogs-de-voyage.fr/archives/category/carnet_de_voyage_mali.html

a big thank you for the one who can help me . Malians, Songhoi,Tuaregs are people the men and women must meet even if it’s only on a blog through what i write!

to help them i create a shop , some money will come for them if you buy on this website you can find books,cd,dvd,play station and others…thanks for the malian school boys and girls .

http://astore.amazon.fr/globeontheblo-21

GAO , FIRST SIGHT

I cannot tell “Gao”, it is necessary to dragg from place to place ,to apprehend it . A single tarred road crosses the city, all other streets, so wide nevertheless, are with an orange-coloured sand, lined with houses of the same warm tint or sometimes blind in with the grey, color of the clay.
Long walls of the same material hide gardens, because all the houses possesse their garden to keep hens ,to rear some goats, or to meet some friends around the three traditionnal malian tea, under the tree-shade

   The midtown is not different, except that we can see the ministries and the administrations.  Along the market a “bric à brac” of objects rubs elbows with others ones : saw, shoes, piece of salt , calico …

An ebony skin girl, diligently braids the hair of another child, a baby dozed off in the back of his mom, a dressmaker in front of his antique sewing machine gets from a multicolored piece of fabrics a pants richer in color.

In the corner of a street, some goats proudly set upon a mountain of garbage : it puts back to my memory ,some sentences of Alphone Daudet , the writer , when he speaks about monsieur Segin’s goat  : ” and to see itself so high perched she considers at least so big as the world “

“du coté de gao” “near the niger river “

now bording, for the first part of my tavel in north Mali … 

The iron gate of the garden of the hotel squeaked open and a Tuareg comes in. He wears a red   coppered bubu  and a dark Arabic scarf . Here is Moussa our friend  who for a while, has  left his indigo dress. He steps up to welcome us and his arrival disrupts in no way the customs of birds: in a nimier, a tilabert incubate its eggs in a traditional nest whereas above us a toujoumba (in songhai) magnificent yellow bird, diligently transports indefatigably some new twigs to perfect its nest.

Ibrahim, cheerful face and always smiling, come into the tree-shaded garden , followed closely by the young lady I saw in the airport. Here is “Blanche de Richemont ” says to us Ibrahim  and I remember:  i have read her name on the book of Moussa “ in collaboration with Blanche de Richemont “…

The ” young person ” whom I discover there, has nothing to do with the one that I imagined !

She is a writer, a specialist of deserts and she is in Mali to do the last modifications to her next book ” the eulogy of the desire “ 

We leave them ,they have to discuss and  Mossa has just arrived .He suggests us discovering Gao. Our guide, this afternoon is called Sidi, he is a Mossa’s cousin.
In fact here, everything ,takes place in family, the travel agency is Mossa ’s one and guides or drivers are  his cousins…