Music

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Male and Female Version of Paradise

As part of my ritual for Sunday, I try to go to church, have a good meal, talk to those who keep me grounded 😀 and listen to good old music. A newspaper used to be part of my ritual but I stopped buying a paper when David Bullard was fired. That was was moons ago, now I don’t know exactly why I am not buying a paper (but lets blame recession :P).

Anyway, today I listened to a classic: “I ‘ve never been to me” a song that has been sung by many gifted artists. I listened to the version sang by the Temptations. I thought it was rather interesting how the male and female version contrast with each other. For example, the man steals a woman but a woman doesn’t just steal another woman’s husband, she takes a priest!

The table below provides the comparison of the male and female lyrics for this beautiful song. Bottom line is: male and female version of paradise is certainly not the same!

Male LyricsFemale Lyrics
Hey mister, hey mister
I just want a dime
'Cause I need a cup of coffee and a moment of your time
I can tell your raising hell the way I used to do
But I wish someone woulda' talked to me
Like I wanna talk to you

I've been to Georgia and California
Anywhere I could run
I stole a woman in Tennessee
and we made love in the sun
But I ran out of places and friendly faces
Because I had to be free
I've been to paradise but I've never been to me

Thanks mister, thanks mister
But please don't walk away
'Cause I have this need to tell you
Why I'm all alone today
I can see so much of me still living in your eyes
Won't you share a part of an old mans heart
On the day before he dies

I've been to China & Asia Minor
On any ship that would sail
I made some noise with some good old boys
We wrecked a southern jail

I've seen the best men crawl and some teardrops fall
There ain't nothing I ain't seen
I've been to paradise but I've never been to me

I've even been to marriage
Where children cry for someone they couldn't find
Never knowing that I was searching
For things I left behind

I thought my heart could wait
but I learned too late
Only love can make people free
I've been to paradise but I've never been to me 		Hey lady, you lady, cursing at your life
You're a discontented mother and a regimented wife
I've no doubt you dream about the things you'll never do
But, I wish someone had talked to me
Like I wanna talk to you.....

Oh, I've been to Georgia and California and anywhere I could run
I took the hand of a preacher man and we made love in the sun
But I ran out of places and friendly faces because I had to be free
I've been to paradise but I've never been to me

Please lady, please lady, don't just walk away
'Cause I have this need to tell you why I'm all alone today
I can see so much of me still living in your eyes
Won't you share a part of a weary heart that has lived million lies....

Oh, I've been to Niece and the Isle of Greece while I've sipped champagne on a yacht
I've moved like Harlow in Monte Carlo and showed 'em what I've got
I've been undressed by kings and I've seen some things that a woman ain't supposed to see
I've been to paradise, but I've never been to me

[spoken]
Hey, you know what paradise is?
It's a lie, a fantasy we create about people and places as we'd like them to be
But you know what truth is?
It's that little baby you're holding, it's that man you fought with this morning
The same one you're going to make love with tonight
That's truth, that's love......

Sometimes I've been to crying for unborn children that might have made me complete
But I took the sweet life, I never knew I'd be bitter from the sweet
I've spent my life exploring the subtle whoring that costs too much to be free
Hey lady......
I've been to paradise, (I've been to paradise)
But I've never been to me

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"Trade winds of our time …"

What is a Sunday without good music? I don’t know how many times I have listened to Randy Crawford, but today as I listen to her sing Trade Winds it feels like I have never heard her voice before. I feel shaken to the core perhaps because I had never realised how profound that song is.

She says the world is filled with hatred, brotherhood (and I dare say sisterhood) are dying, and the good people are turning bad. Whilst the children of all race, poor or rich are in search of the truth, which if they don’t find will lead to even darker days. Days without hope and love! Is this really what we want? If not, then realise that:

The choice is all up to you
[otherwise] We’re caught in the trade winds
The trade winds of our time

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Another Year Gone -Part I

It is that time of the year that I look back to reflect on my year. What a year this has been! I have done a lot of crying and I blame Tjontjo for it – someone or something has to shoulder the blame …it is the law of the universe 😉 . I found myself crying a lot more than I usually do in a year because I am trying so hard not to react in ways that I have been known to respond to situations in the past. And this exercise has led me to realise that having a strong exterior in itself doesn’t mean one has a strong interior. If not that, it means I am worn-out or was simply too hasty in the past to engage in war.

Well I cannot comment on that but I can say I took to heart the advice not to confuse a humbling act with humiliation. When the advice was given I was short of asking if I should just open up and swallow crap. The reason I didn’t pose such a question was that the advice simply suggested that I should learn to exercise the power to respond to situations instead of reacting. (But for those who know me well, the question would have been well in line with my interpretation; I subscribe to the philosophy WISINWIM – what is said is not what is meant.) I know some say such a philosophy makes me presumptous and I agree although not fully for I have been right even when I was wrong! This is another lesson learnt this year whilst in pursuit of the truth that my heart knew but for some reason I had to hear it (and later cry – the truth hurts but I can and shall always prefer the truth).

Another lesson learnt for the millionth time is that God has a healthy sense of humuor. This was the year that I was intending to stay in the black. I had planned my finances well but I was in recession long before anyone talked about it 🙂 . Now that didn’t make me cry for I have been making this promise since I started working moons ago!

Loneliness made me cry. This year I felt the true magnitude of the words captured in a Sesotho saying: “pulumo-ea-seema-se-inotsi” (a buck that stands by itself). These words I first heard them from Morena Mojela, who has recently passed away, at a funeral of his wife (may their souls rest in perfect peace). Anyway, I cannot begin to describe the feeling itself but I can tell you that the worst thing about feeling such alone is knowing that there are friends and family who love you dearly but for some strange reason you continue to feel lost. I found refuge in chocolate and now there is more of me to love 😉 .

So whats in the cards for next year? I don’t know but I am ready for I have learnt that with age expectations have to be adjusted and true contentment begins with making such adjustments. So as I celebrate getting closer to 30 on Thursday, I shall embrace all that lies ahead for me – the good and the bad – and the song that comes to mind for this glorious celebration is Joy and Pain (fragment of the lyrics shown below) by Frankie Beverly and Maze. All are welcome to dance with me, I know how to shake what my mama gave me 😀 !

…
Over and over you can be sure
There will be sorrow but you will endure
Where there’s a flower there’s the sun and the rain
Oh and it’s wonderful there both one and the same

Joy and pain are like sunshine and rain …

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Remembrance Sunday

Well it is that sunday of the year where we remember the fallen heroes – our fathers and grandfathers who fought in the world war. This particular year as we celebrate the freedoms that these men fought for, one song comes to mind. This song was written by Ntate Karabo Eric Lekhanya and its chorus is as follows:

“Khotso e rene kahohle-hohle
Pula li ne melubela;
Batho ba lule ba ratana
Ba lese ho loantšana.”

Translated:

Let peace reign all over
Let the rains rain
All people must continue to love one another
And they should not fight each other.

It is therefore my hope that all the prayers made during the 2 minutes of silence can result in a renewed commitment to peace. Khotso Pula Nala!

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Sing and dance through it all

This evening I went to Rhodes University Chamber Choir concert. I must say the performance was impressive—but if the truth be told, Wits choir is a little bit better than us. This is not really about comparing the two choirs, my point is while listening to the choir, I was reminded of an article I read not so long ago — the jive that kept us alive —a tribute to John Matshikiza.

The gist of the article was about dancing and singing through all that life has to offer us. Yesterday, we were hit by a mini tornado here in Grahamstown; it is still relatively windy to be at ease, but despite this, it was impossible not to enjoy the singing and dancing. Strange as this may sound, it suddenly made sense to me why music is such a huge part of our culture. For example, in my own culture, we sing virtually for every occasion including war. We have songs known as mokorotlo (war songs) and koli-ea-malla (sad songs), which I provide as support for my statement.

Much as I had never thought about singing and dancing as part of culture, I never underestimate the power of song. The repertoire included songs in isiXhosa, Sesotho, IsiZulu, Germany, English and I think Latin as well. It wasn’t just the language factor but some compositions were dated as far back as the pre-Christ era. This means that the choir, through song and dance, was able to transcend it all — language, time and differences in culture.

So, as food for thought, we should consider singing and dancing through it all — be it we are in pain or filled with joy. Whilst, of course, taking heed of advice given in a song Nna Na (I think it should have been: Nnana). In this song, a person called Nnana is asked to remember that life is like a spinning wheel (bophelo ke lebili); what goes around will surely come around!

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Invocations from Indigenous Music Performance

Yesterday, I went to see Umrhube (indigenous music) performance featured in the Grahamstown’ annual arts festival. The performance was great! However, the patriot in me thinks Basotho are better. This of course is debatable but is absolutely besides the point.

The point I wish to make is that the perfomance invoked thoughts of what ‘indigenous’ means and how much of what can be regarded as indigenous information an/or knowledge is documented. I am not really sure of the answer but since I appreciate that most of this information is passed on from one generation to the next orally, I thought it would be worthwhile to challenge myself by embarking on a journey that takes me to the roots of my origins. I will begin this journey by using Umrhube’ performance. The group dressed in colourful attire and each member dressed according to their own individual style and taste. The women in particular although danced standing reminded me of the Batlokoa women.

Batlokoa women like women from other clans (in Lesotho) dance on their knees. The only difference is that they don’t just move their upper body, they literally lift their knees much like men lift their legs. You can just imagine the effort; especially in making all believe that the elagance and beauty of the dance comes without effort! To those who understand the Batlokoa this is not surprising since defiance is one quality that can be associated with the clan. Thus, the dance itself can be viewed as an act of defiance, with women saying: ‘if you think as women we need to kneel then we shall! But we will do exactly what men do!’

Other than the dancing, the performance made me think of the role of music in general to culture. To me, it seems that we sing through it all. We sing when we are happy, sad, uncertain, bored, etc. So indeed music might be the food of the soul and through music we might just return to our roots.