Initial Trip: August 2-8, 2016: Ghana - Ghana is a dancing and singing country. In our first visit to Accra, we observed the continuum between artist and community. Meanwhile, in the south of France, Sufis practice “deep listening” as well as improvised vocal techniques in order to realize spiritual immanence. In each country we will explore how listening actively reorients secular and sacred borders.
Second Trip: August 27-September 5, 2017: Ghana - We returned to work with the Ghana National Dance Company, Noyam, and Ghana National Symphony Orchestra. We interviewed musicians and dancers through NYU Accra, with the University of Ghana
By Wendy Perron
Dr. Noah Abanekolgo gave my ankle three shots of a local anesthetic, which hurt like hell. I was lying on my stomach sort of howling/grunting/chanting, though I was trying to be restrained. He brought his face very close to mine on the cot, looked me in the eyes, and asked, “Are you OK?” I said, “Yes, I’m OK.” It was the most intimate, caring thing a doctor has ever done with me.
By Valerie Naranjo
This music is not only for the ears and mind. The niira wood of the instrument’s keyboard is said to create a water vibration that tethers with the water in human beings and other mammals, creating harmony and well-being. Lobi and Dagara people believe that the niira tree, from which the keyboard of the gyil is made, is the home to the kontombe, the keepers of beauty, balance, and good in society. As one Arts Council member mentioned to me, “The gyil is the mascot of our region.”
By Wendy Perron
It was therefore with a certain joy that we encountered Della Hayes and her Women of Color Band. Della and five young women practice in a tiny shed on a dirt road so rocky that we had to park the car at a small church about a quarter mile away. Della, with a strong jazzy voice, sang and shook gourds as the five young women played, occasionally adding their voices.
By Andy Teirstein
The rapid music pours around us, emanating from Ba-ere’s two hands in multifaceted conversation; through the forest of patterns simple melodies tickle our ears. Low tones rattle fiercely, their vibration amplified by calabash gourds that hang beneath the gyil. As we relax into these unfolding sound layers, it seems as though there are many interweaving voices singing, and I become aware of the magic trick: the invocation, by a single person, of an ensemble.