Archive for the ‘Beninese culture’ Category

Dec
22
Filed Under (Beninese culture, Malian culture) by Rob on 22-12-2014

Here’s a piece I recently wrote for an event where local authors read out passages from their books. I hope you enjoy it!

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So, do they know it’s Christmas? The answer is most definitely yes, or maybe no. You see, it all depends on where you are. In the average African village, a day’s journey from the nearest city, Christmas morning begins in much the same way as any other morning: with cockerels crowing before the sun has even hinted it’s going to rise, goats braying tirelessly, and small groups of ladies – always up before the men – heading out down the narrow, rocky path which leads to the local well half a mile away, heavy clay pots perched skilfully on their heads. And as the huge, red semi-circle of the sun rises slowly and majestically on the misty horizon, dozens of white, wispy columns of smoke can be seen across the village, emanating from small wood fires in dusty courtyards. Within minutes, the warmth of the sun is felt, and long shadows from tall palm trees make the dirt road through the village momentarily stripy. Tropical birds, one by one, break into their usual exotic melodies to greet the new day, taking over – almost seamlessly – from the crickets, who’ve been chirping away non-stop since dusk.

If there’s a church in the village, it will probably have a Christmas service, though rarely an early one. Some will even sing somewhat Africanized renditions of ‘O Come, All Ye Faithful’ or ‘Silent Night’, accompanied by djembe drums, and with melodies somewhat modified to fit their pentatonic scale. After the service, they might share a ‘special’ meal of rice, sauce and chicken. Not particularly special though, as this is what they have every other day, alternating chicken with goat, or perhaps fish if the village is near water. No excitable children rushing downstairs to open masses of pristinely-wrapped gifts of all shapes and sizes. For starters, all the houses are single story! No brightly-coloured lights adorning the streets – this village still has no electricity, so that would be something of a challenge. And there’s none of the obscene over-indulgence the West deems both normal and acceptable as part of the ritual of celebrating Christ’s birth. These villagers consume the same number of calories in a week that the average Westerner would eat on Christmas Day alone. But they’re just happy to have some food in their stomach to get them through the day. And are they less happy than any of us on this special day? If anything, I’d say they were happier in many ways. They have none of the pressure which commercialization has brought to the Western Christmas and are just happy to spend time enjoying each other’s presence, and maybe doing a little less work for a day.

Now, if you go to urban Africa, then it’s an entirely different kettle of fish – or turkey if you’d rather. The swarming main streets of crazy Cotonou, Benin, are lit with brightly-shining, bell-shaped lights, alternating red and yellow for about a mile. Enormous Christmas trees – artificial of course – adorn the lobbies of swanky hotels, which pipe cheesy festive airs through every speaker at their disposal. And any white person outdoors at this time of the year, will be followed by groups of children carrying nativity scenes they have made from cardboard boxes (of varying quality, but never quite up to Blue Peter standard). As they scurry along behind you, they all sing the same song, in the hope of a coin in return. It goes:

Mon petit Papa Noël
Quand tu descendras du ciel
Avec tes cadeaux par milliers
N’oublie pas mon petit soulier

Which means:

My little Father Christmas
When you come down from the skies
With your thousands of presents
Don’t forget my little shoe

In many capital cities, a Christmas Market is held – for the ex-patriates of course, although some more prosperous Africans go along, often those who have lived in the West. The markets sell jewellery, wooden carvings, paintings, clothing, dried pineapple and mango chunks, peanuts – anything these ‘rich foreigners’ will spend their money on. At one such market, there was even the chance for my three children to go and see Father Christmas (for a small fee, of course). The queue was short and we were soon stepping into his tinsel-filled grotto.
Bienvenu les enfants! Venez vous asseoir!” he called out, in a tone of voice which somewhat betrayed the fact he’d already said these very words twenty-seven times today. Now, I shouldn’t have been as surprised as I was to see a black Santa – this is Africa, after all, but I’d never seen one before, and consequently suffered a minor culture-shock at the sight of this skinny, dark-skinned chap, sweating profusely beneath his red and white coat and fake beard. He wasn’t smiling, and he didn’t even say “Ho, ho, ho”, but he did look the part. My children – having grown up in West Africa, did not bat an eyelid – why would Santa have to be white anyway? I thought for a moment, but decided against explaining to them what a native of Greenland ought to look like; they were happy, he was happy, and my kids went away clutching three gifts with a combined value of less than half the entry fee. Kerching!

You see, urban Africa has quickly learned that, at Christmas time, Westerners go crazy and spend even more money than they do the rest of the year. And so, every opportunity is taken to quite literally cash in on this. The larger supermarkets (still no bigger than your average Co-op) are adorned with giant inflatable Santas, reindeer or even snowmen. (How many local folk even know what snow is?) Inside, you can buy all manner of festive fare: French cheeses, wines, spirits, pâtés, chocolates – even Ferrero Rocher. Then there are Christmas lights, balloons, tinsel, party poppers, over-priced board games and endless tacky toys made in China, guaranteed to last at least until Boxing Day. Artificial trees – green, white or silver – take up a significant area of the shop floor, ranging from small and cheap to huge and expensive. I once even saw a real Christmas tree in a Lebanese-run supermarket in Bamako, Mali. Goodness knows what journey it must have made to get there. And it was priced at a mere 250,000 cfa – that’s three hundred English pounds. Tempted as I was, I decided I couldn’t quite justify blowing that much on a tree, however lovely it looked – or smelt! The best thing is that none of this starts until early December, when the supermarkets’ containers of festive goods finally arrive and are unpacked. Before that, there’s not even a hint of Christmas. And so, we get three weeks at the most of Christmassy goings- on, which is quite long enough in my book.

As a family, we always managed to recreate a pretty passable Christmas Dinner with what we could get hold of. Veg is easily available from any market: carrots, potatoes, beans – sometimes even broccoli. Brussels sprouts are something of a challenge, however, and can only be found in the tinned variety. They ooze out of the can, soft and brown and squashed, tasting even worse than the real thing. One British friend who spent an African Christmas with us almost a decade ago, still cites the ‘tinned sprouts’ as his most ‘memorable’ experience of the day. Mind you, he wasn’t there the year we bought a most interesting turkey from our Lebanese merchants down the road: My wife, Lois, was alone in the kitchen when she unwrapped the bird one sunny Christmas morning. She let out an almighty scream, and came running into the lounge, crying:
“You do the turkey, you do the turkey!”

Intrigued, I went into our small kitchen, only to find an entire turkey, lying on the worktop: head, beak, claws – the lot. It looked just like, well, a dead turkey. It took me a good half hour of twisting, dislocating and chopping, before it even started to resemble a British supermarket turkey. And we got less meat than expected that year – I had paid for five pounds of ‘turkey’, but wasn’t expecting the first pound to be inedible.

If you gave me a choice between the three types of Christmas alluded to above, then I’d choose the urban African Christmas almost every time. I know I’d miss cosy log fire-lit pubs, the smell of real Christmas trees, and fresh sprouts. But an African Christmas is a much more relaxing affair, and does not invade your life for a quarter of the year, like back home. And you can choose to be Christmassy or not, getting together with like-minded ex-pats to enjoy a simple festive celebration, without the sometimes awkward obligation of spending a day with extended family members you hardly know. The weather’s warm and sunny too, of course, affording one the chance to sing outdoor Christmas carols in a tee-shirt (just don’t forget your mosquito repellent).

I love an African city Christmas, but, just occasionally – maybe every three or four years – take me to an African village for a Christmas untarnished by materialism, and where genuine love and hospitality pervade all aspects of life. For me, that’s what Christmas is really about.

Rob Baker
December, 2014

Rob is author of “Adventures in Music and Culture”, available on Amazon in the UK and the USA, and globally in Kindle format. He lived in West Africa for eight years and is currently writing his second book, which is set in Mali.

Read an earlier blog post about Christmas in West Africa here (including a picture with Santa!)

Pictures of the turkey incident can be found on this blog post.



Nov
01
Filed Under (Beninese culture, Ethnomusicology, General) by Rob on 01-11-2014

Rob’s first book, “Adventures in Music and Culture” has appeared in a number of publications and websites over the past few months. Here are some of them…
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(1) In June, the book appeared in Goodreads.com

Have a look at the page here. It currently has a rating of 4.5 out of 5 – would you be able to rate it on there too?
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(2) In August 2014, it was added to “Travel Africa” magazine’s Summer Reading List

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(3) Then, in September, World Magazine listed it amongst their top ten, for being the “most interesting and well-written”. Click here to see the page.

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(4) Also in September, I made it into the pages of “Wanderlust Magazine”, a UK-wide publication for those interested in world travel. It can be found on page 21 (click here to view).

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(5) And finally, the book can be found on the For Your Bookcase website where, amazingly, it’s on sale for two pounds less than on Amazon!

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If you are able, I’d be really grateful if you could share the book with your friends on Facebook, Twitter and other social media. Also, if you could review the book on Amazon or Goodreads, that would be really helpful too!

Thanks!



1. Sunshine
I’ve just come from Bamako, Mali, which gets an average of TEN hours of sunshine a day. Ten hours!! Sometimes, we’re lucky to get that much in a week back home.
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2. Nice tropical fruit
Succulent pineapples, tasty bananas, juicy mangos – they never taste as good back home. When my mother visited Africa, she didn’t like the taste of the bananas. That’s because she’d eaten nothing but bland, almost tasteless British imports, so when she finally experienced the REAL banana taste, it was too much!
Oh, and the ‘large mangos’ in Tesco are not large – not by African standards at least 🙂
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3. Cheap public transport
The other day I made the two mile journey into town for the equivalent of 21 pence. Sure, we were crammed into a dented, rusty minibus with no door on the side but, hey, the ventilation was good, and the journey exciting!
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4. Chwarmas
I know they’re not African, but there are great Lebanese chwarma restaurants throughout francophone West Africa. For those who haven’t sampled their delights, a chwarma is a bit like a doner kebab, but soooo much nicer. 
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5. Being able to chat to anyone, anywhere
If you try to engage in conversation with a stranger back home, you might get funny looks, or even be ignored (unless, of course, you’re asking for directions or you live in Yorkshire). In Africa, I’ll walk through the Market and warmly greet anyone, asking how their family and work are doing, and wishing a blessing upon them. In fact, so many folk say ‘hello’ to me in the market, that I have to ignore some, or I’d never get anywhere. I wish Brits would talk to each other more (it really doesn’t hurt, honest!)
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6. Dramatic thunder storms
Occasionally – very occasionally – Britain has a huge thunder storm. Think of one of those, then double it. I LOVE African thunder storms: so loud, so dramatic, so exciting. 
One time, in Cote d’Ivoire, lightning struck a friend’s house and the strip light fell from the ceiling and smashed on the floor below. And in Cotonou once, a palm tree spontaneously caught fire when a thunder bolt hit it. Scary, but so exciting!
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7. Being able to wear brightly-coloured clothes all the time
In Britain, if you wear anything brighter than brown, black, navy or grey, it’s rather out of the ordinary. So, when I turn up at church there in my red, yellow and green shirt depicting giraffes and lions, people cannot help but make lighthearted – but nevertheless critical – comments. “Turn that down mate!” “Are you going to Hawaii?!” “Do you think you’re still in Africa?” Answer: no, because if I were in Africa, nobody would make these cutting comments. There, I’ve walked down the street in what look like pyjamas and it’s completely normal. How you dress is of minuscule importance compared with who you are (and how you treat others).
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8. The ex-pat sub-culture
For some reason, you make friends more quickly ‘on the field’. You also become good friends more often than not, and remain in contact even after you’ve left. I think it’s partly due to the ‘all in the same boat’ syndrome, as everyone’s away from their home culture. Also, some embassy staff only do two years in one place, so you can hardly wait six months before inviting them round! Whatever the reason, some – nay most – of my best friends have lived overseas at some point. It gives you a different outlook on life and, I think, a more balanced world view.
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9. Being able to speak African languages
Because they’re fun! Lots of interesting sounds like ‘gb’ and ‘kp’, fascinating greetings and interesting vocabulary. In one language, the word for ‘bike’ means ‘metal horse’. Another has 15 words for ‘banana’ and only one for all vehicles. Such fun!
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10. Hand shakes
Apart from the very first time you meet someone, we don’t tend to shake hands in Britain much. In Africa, you shake hands every day when you meet – I like that. And there are some funky variations too including the ‘finger click handshake’ on the W African coast. 

Rob’s Book, “Adventures in Music and Culture” is available on Amazon in the UK and the USA, and globally in Kindle format. Find out more here.



Aug
25
Filed Under (Beninese culture, General, Malian culture) by Rob on 25-08-2014

Now, before I start this list, a disclaimer: firsly, I LOVE Africa, even though there are things about it that I don’t like. Secondly, some of the things listed below are also reasons why I love Africa, because they are what makes Africa Africa. Finally, I leave this beautiful continent tomorrow and know I will miss it, so this is my own personal therapy to soften the blow somewhat. Here goes…

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1. Being constantly conspicuous because of the colour of my skin
I walk out of my front door and, within seconds am greeted with “Toubabou!” (which means “White person”). I walk down the street, and at least every five minutes, a small child shouts at me: “Toubabou! Give me 100 francs!”
On the edge of the market, a mobile phone card salesman spots me, and calls out: “Orange!” Because I’m white, I must want to buy phone credit, and might not notice him if he doesn’t call out. He is wearing a fluorescent orange vest, mind you, and is standing beneath an orange-coloured parasol in front of a big orange booth (which so has the word “ORANGE” emblazoned across the front). Still, he has to thrust the cards in my face calling out: “Orange! Orange! Orange!” just to be sure I don’t miss him.
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At the market, every stall holder is vying for my attention. ” Toubabou, what are you looking for?” “Toubabou, step inside.” “Toubabou, come and look at my jewellery…”
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The other day (and by no means for the first time) I was walking towards a T-junction. A taxi passing on the road ahead spied me out the corner of his eye, stopped, then reversed back until he was level with me. “Taxi?!” You see, because I was white, and walking, I must want to get in a car! Sometimes it kind of makes you feel special, but other days I just want to be invisible.
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2. Corruption
“Eeeeee!”
It’s that sound you dread: the traffic policeman had blown his whistle to stop you. “Your papers please!” You know there’s nothing wrong with your papers – or your vehicle for that matter – but experience tells you that he’s likely to give you a hard time in the hope of getting a bribe.
“Your windscreen is cracked, I will have to confiscate your papers.”
The tiny dint in the glass is no more than half an inch across and definitely not grounds for this.
“Or we can try and settle it here and now,” he adds. Sigh! Half an hour of patient pleading later, and the papers are returned. You only have three choices here: have your papers confiscated, wait patiently, or continue to fuel corruption in Africa. Please choose wisely.
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3. Mosquitos!
They get everywhere, through the tiniest hole in your screening or net. They can buzz annoyingly, give itchy bites and – of course – pass on the biggest killer in sub-Saharan Africa: malaria. And even the non-malarial kind can give you dengue fever. Nasty wee beasties, with no redeeming features I can think of.
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4. Dangerous driving conditions
You’re driving through the city, swerving round huge potholes when a taxi overtaking a lorry heads straight towards you. You break and swerve to the side, narrowly avoiding the ditch. Back on the road, and a man is pushing his two-wheeled cart in front of you. You want to overtake, but motorbikes are hurtling past you on both sides. When it’s finally clear, you pass, but have to brake almost immediately: a donkey, its front legs tethered together with string, has strayed into the middle if the road. You break and skid to a halt, inches from its terrified eyes. As you do so, an inattentive motorcyclist collides with your wing mirror, breaking it into pieces. And that’s just a one minute extract of driving in urban Africa!
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5. The continent’s continued over-reliance on the West
New tarmacked road in Benin – who build it? The Belgians.
Bamako gets a New Bridge – who paid for it? The Chinese.
Now, these are positive developments, but I wish Africa could take control of its own development, and manage, somehow, to build its own infrastructures. If this doesn’t eventually happen, the whole continent will continue to rely upon the West like it does now, and this fosters a ‘nanny state’ attitude amongst many locals: ‘Not to worry, the West will come and bail us out again soon’. I don’t deny the continent’s poverty, or need for aid, but I wish Africa were able to control and manage its own development more.
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6. Not being told the truth
“How long will my meal take?” “Only ten minutes, sir.” An hour later, it arrives.
“When does this bus leave?” “Right away, sir!” Three hours later…
“Here’s some money for a new bike.” “Okay, I will buy one tonight.” Next day, he has no bike, and had given the money to his family.
Africa has a ‘shame and honour’ culture. This means that appearing shameful is the worst thing ever, whilst appearing honourable – even if it means lying – is the desired outcome. This is very frustrating for Westerners and, of course, leads to a greater dishonour in the long run.
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7. Political instability
You see it time and again: election season comes and most ex-pats decide it’s a good time to take an extended vacation, just in case. All too often, democracy has failed in Africa; introduced by the West, it is a good system of government in principle. However, it doesn’t tend to fit naturally with African history, culture or the African psyche. And so, elections are held and – often – folk know already who’s going to win. If the ‘correct’ outcome is not achieved, then there is unrest. I’m told that Senegal is the only country in West Africa never to have had a coup d’état.
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8. Inverted racism, which puts whites on a pedestal
I ask directions to the nearest electrical store. The chap offers to take me, adding: “We’ll go this way, past my friends’ house. They will be impressed when they see me with a white man.”
Why? What’s the difference? The only difference is that, on average, we’ve had more opportunities. For education, healthcare, transport etc. But why do many Africans still look upon us as ‘better’. Culturally, Africa is much richer than the West, I’d say. And the importance of relationships, family and spending time together is much more accentuated in Africa. We’ve thrown much of that away, in favour of long working hours, making money and materialism. So, Africa, please don’t think that we’re superior; we just have a different history and different priorities.

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9. People always asking me for things
This was touched upon in #1, but to many Africans, a white face is like a walking cash point. “They’re white, therefore they have money, therefore I can ask them for some.” After money, the second most common request is for medicines, and in third place is requests for ‘an invitation to your country’. But during my time in Africa, I’ve also been asked for the following:
a guitar
a camera
a drum kit
photocopying bills
a donkey(!)
clothing
a motorbike
Sooner or later, you have to learn to say ‘no’.
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10. No change in the shops
I don’t even know why this is the case. You go to buy a loaf of bread for 300 francs. You give them a 1,000 franc note. They look at you (almost disgusted) and say: “Have you got 200 francs?”
“No, I haven’t.” There’s a long pause, then the reply:
“We have no change.” Some shops will say they’ll give you it next time, others will – eventually – go next door and try to find change. One supermarket used to give sweets out instead of change! Crazy, but there you have it.

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Rob’s book, ‘Adventures in Music and Culture’ is available on Amazon in the USA and the UK. Also worldwide in Kindle format.



1. Mobile phone scratch cards to top up your credit
Yes, rather than set up a direct debit (many phone owners don’t even have a bank account), you buy small cards, scratch off the silver covering and type in the number. It’s often something like *123*[number]#. You can also transfer credit (or even money!!) to others via your mobile phone.
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2. Four people on a motorbike
Or 50 chickens, or four goats, or an eight foot mirror, or a giant lorry tyre, or 200 baguettes. Or, how about this:

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3. Cream to make your skin lighter
It always seems ironic that the West strives to get ‘a nice tan’ and look darker whilst Africans (and Indians) tend to find lighter skin more attractive.
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4. Restaurants where you can eat a big main course for 50p
Admittedly, you probably have to eat it with your (right) hand from a communal bowl, but it’s still tasty and decidedly filling. Hardly worth ever cooking for yourself at that rate!
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5. Taxis (and lorries) with slogans emblazoned across their rear bumpers
Many of them say things like “God is Love” or “God bless you”. This one says: “Jesus Protects Me”:
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And don’t forget that many of the lorries have impressive artwork on their rear mudflaps – click here to see a previous blog post on this.
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6.People at traffic lights either begging, selling things, or washing windscreens
Top items on sale include: Watches (always watches, always dodgy), boxes of tissues, maps of Africa, games of Scrabble, inflatable Santas and electric mosquito rackets. But I’ve also seen puppy dogs, clocks, stereo systems and green parrots, to name but a few. If the lights change and you’ve agreed a sale, you will often see them running frantically after you, until you get chance to stop further on.
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7. Market stalls selling meat with added flies (free of charge!)
Oh yes! Plenty of flies! I always hold my breath when passing that bit of the market, because of the smell as well as the insects. Mind you, once cooked, the meat tastes good!
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8. Colourful costumes portraying hair driers, lampshades, chickens, pound signs or knives and forks.
Oh yes – bright colours and large, bold designs are the order of the day here, and nobody makes negative comments like “turn that shirt down!” It’s just part of the culture. See some examples here.
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9. Random heaps of rubbish on street corners.
Everywhere, anywhere. Particularly in West Africa (over East) in my experience. Look at this one – the sign even reads “No dumping”!!
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10. People who congratulate you for putting on weight. “Well done, you’re fat!”
You see, if you’re fat then it’s a sign of wealth. In other words, you can afford enough food to get fat, so you’re rich. I often ponder the immense contrast between this and the West, where most people frequently over-eat, end then have to pay to join a gym to get thinner.
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Rob’s book, ‘Adventures in Music and Culture’ is available on Amazon in the USA and the UK. Also worldwide in Kindle format.



Bamako

1. How ‘outdoors’ everything is – people chatting on the streets, preparing food in their courtyards, selling all kinds of things, all outside. Streets are busy, active places. Few people own a car, and so the outdoors is where people meet each other. I guess it was like that in the West years ago too (though perhaps less in winter!)

2. How everyone is part of everyone else’s world. Unless you live in Yorkshire, you’re pretty unlikely to randomly address strangers in the street back home. Here, it’s completely normal. You can talk to anyone at any time, and you’ll never get that surprises – almost put out – look for ‘invading’ their personal space or peace and quiet. Community is still real here. I guess it was like that in the West once, too.

3. How nothing has a price (until you name it!) Visit a market in the UK, and you’ll see signs reading “Potatos £1.20 a kilo” or “Tomatoe’s £1” (and, yes, usually spelt like that!!) On an African market, there are not prices – YOU name the price you want and they will tell you if it’s high enough. If not, you discuss the price until you’ve reached an agreed amount.

4. Palm trees! Now, I’ve seen enough of these to know that they are not the ‘symbol of paradise’ many Westerners perceive them as. That said, there’s something wonderfully beautiful about these plants, and vastly different from any flora which grows in British climes.

5. How much dodgy wiring there is everywhere. In Britain, health and safety has gone mad! However, it does mean that you can put a plug into a socket without worrying that you’ll get zapped by 220 volts every time! I NEVER touch a plug with bare feet in Africa (once was enough!)

6. The absence of carpets. Why would you want them in a hot climate anyway? Rather, a nice mosaic-tiled floor, or even just polished concrete, does the job!

7. Flat roofs and white concrete walls. Now, where I live, it’s pitched roofs and red brick walls in most places. Not in Africa. Of course, there are mud huts and all kinds of other permutations, but the white walled, flat roofed building is number 1 in Urban Africa.

8. The sounds of an African night. Where I live is pretty rural. However, the nights are still silent, as far as animal life is concerned. In Africa, you can hear crickets, cicadas, frogs, fruit bats and all kinds of other wee beasties, all singing a delightful cacophony from dusk till dawn.

9. How clapped out most taxis are! Of course, there are some nice ones, but in many cases a cracked windscreen, poorly-fitting doors, missing seatbelts or non-existent suspension are the order of the day. This is what makes public transport in Africa interesting, after all!

10. How many warm smiles you see, in spite of adversity. British people smile sometimes. But usually when you’ve told them a joke or when they’re really happy. Africans are either happier in general, or just smile more. I passed a beggar in the street today, with little more than a few coppers in his small plastic bowl. He gave me the best smile I’d seen in a long time. Maybe it was like that in the West once, too.


If you like reading what Rob writes, try his book here.



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Here’s another ‘sneak preview’ for those who have not yet got hold of a copy of my book. This was when I worked with the Bassar – or Ncam – people in Western Togo (Chapter 5 in the book):

“Whilst they are busy working on their songs – and as they ‘know the ropes’ by now – I take a few minutes to climb up the hill which continues behind the hotel. It’s a pretty steep one and there’s no time to make it to the very top today. However, I get far enough to admire a truly impressive view of Bassar, way down below, and the plain beyond it: lush, green and flat, extending to the horizon, many miles away. Parts of the distant horizon are marked by the undulations of tiny mountains, which I know are actually huge. Bassar itself is a mass of rectangular buildings with rusty brown roofs and small windows, punctuated by mango trees, teak trees, even a good number of coconut palms. The streets are long, straight and pale brown, and white smoke is rising from various locations across the town. Ladies are walking to or from the small market with bowls on their heads; muscular men, pouring with sweat, are chopping wood; children are playing with old motorbike tyres and old men are sitting in the shade watching the world go by. Weary, world-worn donkeys are pulling carts through the muddy streets as motorcycles whizz by, and small clusters of wandering sheep – like tiny balls of cotton – roam aimlessly through the town. Makeshift poles made from branches – not one of them straight – carry electricity to most homes, a mass of twisted cables dangling haphazardly between each. In one place, a lorry is unloading large sacks of charcoal and in an open grassy area, young people are playing football with great energy. This strangely idyllic view is somewhat spoilt by two large antennae, one at each end of the town, both painted the usual red and white. It is only then that I notice how many homes are equipped with television aerials; one or two even have satellite dishes!”

Order your copies here (UK) or here (USA) and enjoy ‘a good read’ which (apparently) ‘will transport you to Africa’.

If you have read it, please write a brief review if you can. Thanks!



Here’s part of a page from the March/April edition of Idea Magazine, where my book is reviewed. (See it at the bottom of the page there?)

Book Review

See the review here (on page 31)

Meanwhile, here’s what it says:

“This is an intriguing little gem of a book. It is part travel journal, part adventure story, part musical treatise. Baker is a ethnomusicologist and the book charts his travels and experiences in Africa. We hear about various journeys and the way local Christian expressions are using local music. Baker’s insight is that we need to use the music that means something to people. Then we can add extra meaning to the cultural patterns and resonances of the existing stuff. Too often missionaries land and try to get local folk to sing American soft-rock Christian anthems – but these lack depth in a local context. Baker’s book is really good on painting pictures and showing how music and culture are intertwined. He shows how Christianity thrives when culture is involved and this is a wake-up call to evangelicals who get all sniffy about culture. What strikes you most is just how likeable and engaging Baker is. His lovely little book makes a great travel companion. This book is like sinking into a comfy armchair. It is Billy Graham meets Michael Palin. A rare treat.”

Thanks Steve Morris for the cool review!

Don’t forget, you can buy your copy here (UK) or here (USA)

Or contact me and I can send you a signed copy for the RRP (+£1.40 p&p in the UK).

Thanks for reading!



“Adventures in Music and Culture” was released on 15th December 2012 and I’m pleased to say that folk are really enjoying reading it! Below are extracts from feedback I have received so far.

Front Cover

“Excellent travelogue. Well written with infectious energy. An absorbing read with just the right level of detail…as well as some laugh out loud moments. It also has some thought provoking points on culture. Recommended!”
(Male, UK, 19th December 2012)

“The book captures very well indeed the general experiences of Western expatriates working in not just the two countries covered but the whole west African region. Laced throughout with good humour. The book lies well alongside those written by well known travellers in the region such as Gerald Durrell.”
(Male, UK, 20th December 2012)

“It was a really interesting and enjoyable read!”
(Male, USA, 1st January 2013)

“It’s a good read.”
(Male, UK, 1st January 2013)

“A brilliant book about [Rob’s] experiences in Benin & Togo. If you have an interest in music, travel, mission or African culture then I’d suggest you add this to your reading list. It’s a really fun and interesting read.”
(Female, Scotland, 6th January 2013)

“I’m really enjoying the book. It’s bringing back a few interesting memories of Africa.”
(Female, Australia, 6th January 2013)

“Very easy to read and I’d highly recommend it, especially if you have an interest in Africa, travel, music in different cultures and/or how God uses music to help people’s faith to grow.”
(Male, UK, 7th January 2013)
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If you’re in the USA, order your copies here or here.

In the UK, order your copies here or here.

For other countries, try ordering from the above links, or contact me directly and I can post you a copy. Meanwhile, please share this blog post with friends who might be interested in reading the book. Thanks!



…so make sure you ask Santa for a copy!

Yes, I’m thrilled and excited to be able to share my African travels with you all, and to open people’s hearts and minds to the fascinating world of ethnomusicology. It will be available on the Ambassador International website soon, in paper and electronic form. Meanwhile, here’s an extract from the introduction to whet your appetites:

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At last – I have an interesting job! One to which people respond: “Oh, how fascinating,” or: “Tell me more about what you do!” Although there’s not much money in it, it’s a job which is exciting, enriching, pioneering and intriguing. At times it can be frustrating, exhausting – even dangerous, but is never boring, tedious or repetitive, like some jobs I’ve had.

I used to have a job which I enjoyed, but which nobody else found particularly exciting. I would almost dread the inevitable party question: “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a French teacher,” I would reply, shamefully.
“Oh, right. Where do you teach?”
And that was one of the more interesting responses. The bravest (or most foolhardy) would reply: “Ah oui! Un kilo de tomates, s’il vous plaît!” Others would merely reel out a string of random French words, presumably in an attempt to impress me: “Ooh là là! Gerard Depardieu, Arc de Triomphe, Joe le Taxi, tarte aux pommes…” However, by far the most common response inflicted upon me on such occasions was the likes of: “I was rubbish at French in school,” or “I had a terrible French teacher who wore corduroy, smelt of garlic, and gave me a ‘D’ grade even when I did my best.” How can the conversation spontaneously evolve following such a statement? And so my job was the definitive conversation stopper; I may as well have said I watched paint dry for a living (which would, in fact, probably have sparked off more interest).

So, this is why I’m delighted to have a job which is not only interesting to me, but for which other people show a genuine interest. It’s a job they can scarcely pronounce, let alone define or describe: I am an ethnomusicologist. “What does one of those do?” you’re asking yourself. See, you’re doing it too already!

Without going into too much boring detail, there are two main types of ethnomusicologist. The first is the secular type, who studies world music for the same reason Sir Edmond Hilary climbed Everest: because it’s there. Of course, this kind provides much vital information about music in culture and many useful anthropological insights along the way. The second type is the missionary ethnomusicologist or ethnodoxologist, who does the same kind of research as the first, but then applies this to Christian mission. “So, I’ve found this fact out about their music, how can I use it to help encourage local Christians and their churches?” The results – as I hope you’ll see – are often stunning, as people begin using their music, rather than something pertaining to a foreign culture.