Total Request Live: Nampula

The variety of radio programming here is not very impressive. Nor is it even a little impressive. There is BBC news, which is so amazing and in-depth and I can't even start talking about them because it will end up with an article titled "439 reasons I love BBC radio". There are a variety of religious outlets but they do about a good of job as if you turned on Christian TV in the US. You'd start asking who the ladies with all the makeup are and why are they selling prayer towels to support Israel.

There are more radio stations today than there were several years ago, but many of them classify as "community radio". This means public radio. And yes, it is about exciting to listen to as public radio in the US. Several of them play music. The rest just talk. Several of them sell airtime to different churches or ministries that play gospel music during their allotted time-slots, but they are rarely listened to.

Hands down, the most interesting radio station is RTP Africa. It is a station from Portugal and broadcast for the Portuguese speaking African countries (which number a grand total of two if you don't count a handful of islands who, combined, don't have a million persons). What makes RTP so darn interesting is that there isn't a genre of music they won't play. During select evenings around 9pm or so the DJ comes on-air with a program that "will take a special look into the music of ______". It lasts an hour and is the widest, broadest, oddest look at music that exists anywhere on the planet.

Simply put, if there exists 60 playable minutes of a certain type of music, they will do a show on it, explaining the history and importance of the genre. I have heard, and this is no exaggeration, shows about: glam rock, the waltz, motown, korean pop, U2's "Rattle and Hum", french folk songs, Miles Davis, Queen, Beethoven's 9th Symphony, South African disco, Afro-Cuban, big band swing, Vietnam war protest songs (from Vietnam), feminism (which I was unaware was a genre of music), and music from blaxploitation films (slightly aware of this as a genre).

I've let the kids listen in a couple of times, if only because the DJ usually tries to explain the importance of Miles Davis (important for the birth of modern jazz), motown (important only so Michael Jackson could moonwalk at the Motown 25th Anniversary concert), glam rock (important for Ziggy Stardust, duh), french folk songs (umm...), Beethoven's 9th symphony (only everything, ever), and Shaft (only everything, ever). The kids usually lose interest because R. Kelly never wrote a symphony, or had a disco album, or covered Queen.

The kids (and often myself) would rather listen to the few radio stations that play what I refer to as "party music". This is the genre that serves as the background for your Friday or Saturday night. To me, the most interesting part is the listener request time. Because most people don't know the names to songs, or even the artists, in order to communicate their request they are often left to resort to sing the song they want the DJ to play.

Sometimes, because the phone network will just forward your call to a random absolute stranger rather than the intended target. The DJ will ask the name of the person who is calling while the stranger, usually confused, will ask the DJ his name. The DJ instead of answering instead asks what music the caller would like to hear. The caller will usually ask to speak to his friend, Joe. Just give the phone to Joe. No, I don't want music. Where's Joe? This is a radio station? Well, when does Joe get back? Can you just get him for me?

Usually at this point the call will suspiciously drop and the next caller pops on the line. Also, when the caller goes on too long or gets to vulgar or racy the calls will get cut off. There is a little bit more patience when the caller is drunk. The calls are funnier the drunker the caller is.

Some of the stations are nationwide shows and some are local here in our city. The local ones usually occupy their evening hours with people calling in to give a shout-out to their neighborhood, their girlfriend, their classmates, their coworkers (really?) or their children. But, contrary to what you might be thinking, this isn't done during breaks in the music. This is accomplished by just turning down the music a little while they talk over, shouting into the phone so that it is barely understandable.

Every now and then we'll hear our bairro given a shout-out. Often people will be listening in a bar or disco and give a shout out to the people standing nearby listening to the radio. The market near the orphanage was once featured in the single greatest radio call-in shout-out I have ever heard or will ever hear again.

DJ: Good evening caller. What's your name.

Caller: Armando.

DJ: Welcome Armando. Where are you calling from.

Caller: I'm calling from Muacomvela.

DJ: And who would you like to greet this evening.

Caller: I want to greet my uncle Fernando.

DJ: And what would you like to say to your uncle.

Caller: Uncle, police are in our house looking for you. Don't come back here—.

And the call "dropped". I have no idea is Fernando is still a fugitive from justice, if Armando was charged as an accomplice, or what the heck the police were even there for. The situation, for me, will remain one of life's great mysteries.

In Which We Love Our Neighbors As Ourselves Pt II

...At this juncture it started becoming apparent why nothing had been done to stop the music. We let the raging all-night party rage right on because, heck, everybody deserves one freebie. The kids here practice music all the time and rehearse for church on Sundays---guitars, drums, the whole 9 meters. I'm sure the neighbors think we're just the equivalent of rowdy high schoolers that try to be cool and form a band in their parents garage because chicks will like them and spend the whole day practicing Green Day covers because they think Green Day is a punk band (secret: it's a pop band).

On Sunday night, the music came and went with slightly less fanfare. There was no party, and it managed to stop in the middle of the night. But come Monday morning it was back on, playing away the whole day and blending into the night. At that point, Victor went over to have a little “chat” and to “persuade” him with “an offer he couldn't refuse”. No, he actually did all those things. There was no strong-arming or intimidation at all.

When Victor arrived he asked to talk directly with Marrerre. Maybe its time you know a little bit more about him.

In Which We Love Our Neighbors As Ourselves Pt I

If this post seems fragmented, it's because its gone through about three different rewrites as the situation develops. Its kind of like how Star Wars started as “Lets rip off Flash Gordon” and morphed to, “Umm, we actually need to put at least a little thought into this to keep making movies” and then, “Lets change everything about the movies by making prequels. And Jar Jar Binks. Lets add lots of Jar Jar Binks.”

But unlike Star Wars, that is the last time I will ever mention Jarjar Binks. And unlike George Lucas, I won't try to destroy your childhood by re-editing and drastically changing the Star Wars special edition blu-ray re-release.

Think of the millions to be made marketing sweet, tasty carbonite candy bars.

Here's how the story started. about 10 days ago on Friday night our neighbors decided to destroy the neighborhood. But really, the only damage being done was psychological. There was no attempt at physical destruction (yet), As happens from time to time, people tend to make generally not smart decisions and damage their future all for a quick thrill. This is how some of you were conceived. But we're getting off track.

Our neighbors had purchased a big, shiny, brand new set of speakers. These were not just any old speakers mind you, not even a big radio. This was a state-of-the-art, hi-fidelity hut entertainment system. And since Friday nights are generally party and drink like there's no tomorrow they decided to pump the music so loud that, to paraphrase the rapper Nate Dogg, the rhythm became the bass and the bass became the treble.

And these aren't some neighbors so far down the block that we could hear rumblings. These were our proper neighbors. The speakers were blasting all of 20 yards from Victor and Christina's house and 30 yards from my house. It's close enough I can throw a rock and hit them. I thought about trying, but decided not to. The music started just around dinner on Friday night, and kept going, and kept going, and kept going. The music. Never. Stopped.

Musical Maladies aka The Discotheque Deception

Life is filled with experiments here. Living life here, or anywhere, is something that is met with both successes and failures, and instinctively people modify or experiment with their surrounding to isolate the successes. Example: if you want to lose weight, you’ll experiment with your diet. You want to increase gas mileage, so you’ll experiment with buying the expensive octane.

Here, our experiments are oriented towards improving our lives–how do we positively reinforce the kids study habits, how we can increase their work ethic, how we can solve conflicts and arguments, how can we get them to take care of their clothes. These often differ from my experiments, which are oriented towards improving my life—which street vendor sells the best food, how do I get the villagers to wear clothes, how do I get the village ladies to stop offering themselves to me in marriage, how do avoid confrontation with their fathers after they offer themselves to me in marriage.

My most recent experiment was simply this: How do I get them to like my music. If you remember the music posts, there are several conditions to liking music. While I’d love to play them some Toby Keith or Coldplay or Mumford & Sons, there are things that would immediately prevent them from liking it. The things are 1) they aren’t African, 2) they aren’t Michael Jackson or Celine Dione, and 3) none of those artists have committed any major criminal offenses.

Unless loving America too much is a crime, in which case Toby Keith is Guilty with a capital “G”.

Nampula Radio: All hits, all the time?

One of the highlights of listening to the radio, aside from the ones I’ve talked about before, is getting to hear the weekly hits chart. The weekly hits chart is described as being “the ten songs most popular coming from and by America”. It comes on every Friday morning starting at 8am. It’s the can’t miss half hour program of the week.

It starts with number ten. The DJ even tells you how many weeks its been on the chart, where it peaked, and where its heading. The song starts playing in the background as the DJ introduces all the information. He finally says the name and artist and then cranks the volume up. The problem is sometimes he gets sidetracked and will talk so long he needs to restart the song. He plays the song for as long as he wants, cuts the volume, and then puts on the next tune.

What’s more is that the DJ has the discretion to play as much or a little of the song he likes. About a month ago for some reason known only to teen girls Taylor Swift was fairly popular, notching 4 songs on the countdown one particular week (you’ll see why later). The DJ was not a fan of hers, apparently, because he played her song only long enough to get through saying its chart information and then when right on to something by some rapper (who’s probably from Senegal or West Afria) and played the song twice.

The most confusing thing is that often, the DJ will announce the song over the end of the previous song, and then never play it. He then puts on the next songs and announces it just the same. At first, this was not a problem I cared about because it usually meant skipping at least two Taylor Swift songs. But then one week they announced they skipped a song that was, “making its premier on the countdown at position 6. Let it Be, by the Beatles”.

After doing enough sleuthing to put the Hardy Boys to shame (about 2 minutes) I finally figured out what was happeing. I kept track of the tip ten chart for the next two weeks to compare notes, and sure enough I was right. The Nampula Radio Top Ten is actually the iTunes Music Store Top Ten. And it is each and every single week. It turns out that while I (and everybody else here) were thinking we had our hands on the pulse of America, what we really had our hands on was the pulses of the people in America that for some reason actually buy music instead of downloading or just listening to it on YouTube all day long. Several weekends ago, this theory was further confirmed by skipping two songs by hip brand new artist “Glee Christmas Episode Special”.

So just why is R. Kelly popular?

The easy answer is: I have absolutely no idea. R Kelly is an American RnB singer who nobody here had ever heard of until one tiny little performance in the world cup in South Africa.

Now, he is the second-most famous person in Africa that nobody had ever heard of until one year ago. Second most only to Michael Jackson. In fact, I think all musicians who are having trouble with their careers or public image should take a hint from R Kelly and do a show in Africa. In a sense, it’s like the slate has been wiped clean and all the wrong that you’ve committed will be ignored (or in this case, applauded). I don’t know what’s changed since I left America, but maybe that being the case Kanye West should consider doing a concert in Cape Town. There is a long line of people who lose favor with the American public over scandals and then become heroes in Africa. OK, I lied. That list is only two people: Michael Jackson and R Kelly.

When I tell the kids that I don’t like RnB music they say I must be crazy because R Kelly sings RnB and as popular as he is surely there isn’t anybody alive who doesn’t like RnB. So then I tell them that I don’t like him based on moral grounds.

For those of you who aren’t sure why R Kelly is somewhat blacklisted in America, let me explain it for you. First, there’s the matter of him marrying a 15 year-old girl. This may not be a huge problem had he not been at the ripe old age of 28. This is the thing that occasionally will garner him respect over here, not admonishment. They say that its not such a bad thing. People here marry at 15 all the time, and girls marry older (and much older) guys often, so I need to be more accepting of their culture. Also, for those of you not familiar with R Kelly, there’s also the matter or him having made some very disturbing child pornography videos (as if child pornography wasn’t bad enough). There’s really no way for me to explain this concept to the kids. In fact, there’s really no way for anybody to explain what he did at all.

Although goodness knows people will try.

As for Michael Jackson, I just have to tell the kids that in fact I am the only person they have ever met that does not adore the gloved one. Them thinking I’m crazy is a small price to pay for being sane.

The Rainy Season Has Started

I've been waiting a long time to put this one up.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9NuA7AripfU

And I need another easy, short post because I've been busy.

Enjoy.

Rules of the Radio

I have observed that there is a very specific set of requirements for songs to get on the radio. I’ve attempted to compile these and create a sort of rulebook to determine if a particular song can be heard on the radio. Keep in mind that there are only about 6 stations here that actually play music, so it didn’t take years to compile, only weeks. Warning: this may not make sense unless you’ve spent any amount of time in Africa, in which case it will be painfully obvious to you

Rule 1. To be on the radio, the music must be from Africa.

1.a Music from Africa is strictly defined as all music originating in Mozambique or only reggae from South Africa.

1.b If not African, it must be Portuguese.

1.b All following rules are exception to Rule 1.

Rule 2. If not from Africa, the people must think they are from Africa. Common examples are Bob Marley, R. Kelly, and Usher, who everybody swears are all from “probably from Western Africa, because its easier to get to America from there”.

Rule 3. If people do not think they’re from Africa, they must at least be black. Common example are Akon and Michael Jackson (kind of) and especially that fake duet with Akon and Michael Jackson (see Rule 4).

Rule 4. If the people are not black, they must sound like a girl. Common examples are Justin Beiber and that fake duet with Akon and Michael Jackson.

Rule 5. If not a girl, they must be Canadian. This exception includes Bryan Adams and Justin Beiber (for people who insist he does not satisfy Rule 4).

Rule 6. Celine Dion is acceptable at all times. This rule is somewhat moot as Celine Dion already satifies Rules 4 and 5.

Rule 7. Techno music by default does not satisfy any of the rules, but it does not NOT satisfy any of the rules, and is therefore allowed.

A few comments: Music from Brazil is not awesome samba inspired music, it is sappy romantic covers of Celine Dion. I have no idea why techno is so popular here, but it drives me crazy. Rock is never allowed unless it is the one song by Bryan Adams that is on the radio (“Baby you’re all that I want”).

Michael Jackson was not popular here until he died last year and people were told he was richest most famous person in the world, and now everybody knows about him. R&B is fairly popular, but people think that there are only two singers. They are Usher and R. Kelly. EVERYBODY that sings R&B is either Usher or R. Kelly.

Nothing is censored here. People don’t speak English, so why bother. Hip-hop can be played freely without editing anything down. That being said, hip-hop is only popular if features a woman singing the hook. That woman is usually Rihana. This is for two reasons. First, nobody in America or here likes anything Rihana actually does other than sing the chorus for hip-hopsters/rappers. The second reason is because “we think she’s probably from Senegal or somewhere in Western Africa.

High School Musical

A little over a week ago the high school in our neighborhood held a dance to celebrate the end of the year school year (yes, it’s the end of the school year here). I have no way of knowing what exactly happens at the dance because I didn’t attend and it was only for 12th graders. I also have nobody to ask because we have three kids in 12th grade here and none of them went. I also can’t ask any neighborhood kids that went because they don’t even remember going to the dance because they were already blacked out from drinking .

I first figured something was different that day when driving home that night there was an unmistakable thump-thump-thump of the dance floor. When I arrived at the orphanage the music was just as loud. There must have been a lot of speakers because the school is about a kilometer away from us. I asked the kids what was happening and they told me it the end of the year dance. I asked them the theme and they didn’t know so I’m going to assume it was the enchantment under the sea dance.

After several hours of the constant thumping of very non-African techno music, the tone suddenly changed at about 8pm. All of a sudden, the smooth, dulcet tones of Celine Dion came soaring over the neighborhood. The ears of everybody in the orphanage perked up as for the next three hours we were treated to wave after wave of romantic soundscapes from Celine Dion, Bryan Adams, and about 5 other singers whose names I don’t know. What I can tell you is that if it was a power ballad from the 80’s, then they played it.

What was perhaps most perplexing about the whole thing was what the kids said when the music changed. I don’t know if there’s a way to fully describe the oddity and humor of the situation unless you experienced it, but then again I wouldn’t be doing my job if I weren’t trying. As soon as the music changed to the sappy romantic songs, all the kids said, “Ahhh, the dance is starting” I was thinking that it meant like when you’re at the awkward high school dance and nobody is on the floor until Aerosmith booms over the gym (Cause I don’t want to miss a thing). I asked them if they meant that people don’t dance to the other three hours of music we’d just been listening to. They said that it literally meant that they don’t open the doors until the romantic music starts playing and all the other stuff was just a prelude to let people know there was a dance going to take place.

I think that there is really no way to describe just how funny this was to me. Especially since the whole mood of the orphanage changed when the music changed. They had more or less ignored the first three hours of the thumping techno. But as soon as the romantic, power ballad-esque genre started up all ears were instantly glued to the tunes flowing over the night sky.

Misleading Lyrics

Once in a while we get some traditional, home grown Mozambican music on the radio. Not hip-hop covers by Mozambicans, but more traditional African music. I used to love when it came on the radio because its happy and fun to listen. I used to because now I can fully understand the lyrics of these songs. They range from just absolutely bizarre to slightly disturbing.

One such music the other day was a full choir of people singing the happiest song I ever heard. After asking three different kids to verify the lyrics I discovered they went something like this:

Don’t beat your mother. I said don’t beat your mother.

Don’t beat your mother because then you father will have nobody to hit.

Very tragic, but not really uncommon in the culture here. While abuse is not permissible the assumption is she probably did something to deserve it. The next day there was another song that caught my ear. It was a man singing with a choir to back him up. I don’t remember word for word, but it was something along the lines of a man talking to his wife saying “You'd better cook food. If you don’t I’m going to take you back to your father and ask for your sister in exchange”.

Trust me, that second sounds a lot more uplifting when you hear it.

Open Mic Night

Music Monday kicks of with a bang here as we talk about a cultural staple in Nampula: The radio. There are about 6 radio stations here in Nampula. One of them is BBC News Africa, which I try to listen to as much as I can. Several are nationally broadcast stations, and at least two of them are based here in Nampula. There’s also a Christian radio station that plays sermons and other things and a muslim station that only plays those annoying whining Arab music that we’re forbidden from listening to here at the Orphanage.

Anyways, on most nights there’s a radio station here in Nampula that has what amounts to basically an open mic night. I’m not sure which one it is that has the program, but it is for sure not the muslim station. Here’s how it works. The music will be playing and the DJ will just pause it to talk over it and when he’s done talking it comes right back on where it started. It is very annoying for trying to listen to music, but listening to music is not the point of open mic night.

Open mic night starts with the DJ. He uses his powers of control to decides that 20 seconds into the song the intro was important so he’ll reset the track and play it again. He’ll also pause the song simply so he can repeat the lyric. The other night they played “Say you, say me” by Lionel Ritchie and he paused it every line so he could translate. For some reason, having a song play on its own is not enough for people here. They need the DJ to comment on it.

Once the DJ has run out of things to say. That’s when the fun really starts. Somebody will call in with their radio turned way up, and for three seconds there is nasty feedback until they realize this and turn their radio down. Then the airwaves are theirs for literally as long as they have something to talk about. Come to think of it, most of the time its less an open mic night than it is a community CraigsList where people can advertise whatever they want. I’ve heard people asking for car parts, people saying they’re selling car parts, people lost a wallet with money in it, people saying the found a wallet but there wasn’t any money in it, people talking about where to get cheap food. And as always, people are allowed to request songs, as long as its anything by Celine Dion. I heard this request once, and yes, the DJ played Celine Dion. Twice. The same song back-to-back.

Perhaps the best time to listen to the call in portion the night of a national holiday. There is about one every other week here, so you’re never far off from some sure-fire entertainment. Its basically entertaining because everybody that calls is sure to be out of their mind. Not as far out of their mind like Coast to Coast with Art Bell or anything, but drunk.

The best one I’ve heard was this one guy. lets call him Jack. He was calling to talk about his wife. Lets call her Jill. “Good evening, you’re on the air,” said the DJ.

“Hey, I’m wondering if you’ve seen my wife,” asked Jack.

“No I haven’t,” replied the DJ. “What does she look like?”

Jack seemed to ignore the question. “We started drinking this morning and I can’t find her,” he said. “If you see her, let me know.” I’m sure Jack thought the DJ was his neighbor or something.

But the fun didn’t stop there. About a minute later another guy called in. Lets call him Bobby. Based on the tenor of his voice, I’m guessing Bobby started partaking several hours before Jack and never stopped. Bobby said “Hello, is this Jack?”

The DJ, cool as a cucumber replied, “No, this is the DJ. Do you have a message for Jack?”

Bobby said, “Yeah, I found somebody’s wife. I think if might be his.” The DJ asked what her name was and Bobby responded with, “Her name is Suzie.”

Bobby, upon being informed that he had found somebody else’s wife, told the audience where he was and to come find him if you know who this woman is.

An Open Letter to T-Pain

*Disclaimer: To all my readers who may not be in touch with the current state of popular culture, and more specifically popular music, in America you can ignore the clever and more wittier references in this update.

**Disclaimer to the Disclaimer: Given that I've been officially out of touch with popular culture for 3 months (and unofficially for pretty much my whole life) the aforementioned clever and witty culture references may no longer, in fact, be clever and witty. If so, please just ignore.

Dear T-Pain,

I would like to take this opportunity to officially thank you for having ruined the future of music in TWO countries, not just one. Thanks to you, hundreds, nay, thousands of people who realized they couldn't carry a tune in a bucket of water realized that they too can moonlight as somebody who actually has talent. I'll give you an example:

Yesterday I was hanging out after dark shooting the breeze with the night guards. They had a radio on, and the song that started playing was Carrie Underwood's "I Told You So" ft. Randy Travis. They listened with eager intent as I translated the song for them and went back and forth with emotion as if they were watching this poignant story of lost love unfold before their very eyes. Afterwords, they asked me if the song was sung by an angel because it was the most beautiful thing they'd ever heard (OK, they didn't really ask me, but I could tell they wanted to).