Wednesday, November 23, 2016

A Singing Circle Begins at the Refugee Center

The uphill ride was easier today than yesterday, and the weather a little warmer. I took Miguel´s "80's-boy-bike" this afternoon, proudly riding the high bar frame and turquoise blue-green triangle patterns. My bike, Rosy Rosa, is breaking (or the chain needs tightened, or something) and - of course - I have not had quite enough time to get it checked out. Yesterday my little Rosy crackled and popped at record slow speeds uuuuuup the small hills towards the Malberg AZC, or "refugee center" in English. With each THUMP, the pedal gave way and I fumbled. Any weight I put on forward movement was quickly thwarted. 

Yesterday I was approved by the Malberg COA (Central Agency for the Reception of Asylum Seekers) to promote my music activity at the weekly information session. This is where asylum seekers can ask questions regarding paperwork, living situations, doctor visits... basically anything they need help with. This is also the best chance I had at recruiting women for my singing activity. Out of the eleven women that live there, I personally handed out fliers to 6 of them. I thought that was a good start. Some women were sick, others had appointments or simply didn't come to the information session. I hoped my smile and enthusiasm would make up for our language barrier, though I also put translations on the poster itself in English, Dutch, and Arabic. 


Singing Circle Poster:

I left the center yesterday feeling quite confident that I would have enough women for the activity. For the most part, all the women I spoke to (or attempted to speak to) were friendly with open expressions. Time would tell...

I arrived at 3pm to help set up for our first day. The COA coordinator was very encouraging throughout the whole process which made things much easier. This young woman printed out the fliers for me, made coffee and tea for the event, and even knocked on doors of all the women she could think of that would be home during the activity. We were met with disdain and enthusiasm, depending on the door. Luckily, some women said they would join. 

We went down to the infobalie to wait. The first woman that showed up was just a girl. Eighteen years old. She was one of the few women from Eritrea, and though her mother-tongue is Tigrinya she also spoke a little Arabic, English and Dutch. She was helpful in translating when she could. She seemed the most eager to sing, but when I started the warm-up (stretching, stomping feet in rhythm, "warming" our hands) she looked just as confused as everyone else. I tried to explain we needed these body parts for rhythm, but that was lost in the language abyss. 

So, I moved on. 

There were six of us in total, including my COA friend. Two had small children who disrupted quite a bit in the beginning, but were much more calm once we got a groove going. We started with an "ooooh" sound. I gave a pitch that was more or less matched by the ladies. There was giggling, strange looks, and phrases I can only imagine were "What are we doing? What is this?" Then I moved on to a simple rhythm: "Ch, Ch, Ch, Ch". I paired this with movement, showing a right, left stomping pattern. After a little repitition, they seemed to be familiar with it. That's when I divided them into two groups and let them explore together. Three women on the "Ch" and three on "oooh". It was working for a little while, but the rhythm was RUNNING! I had to find a way to express "keep the steady beat" without words. So, I started the "ch" rhythm and went wildly fast, feigning a loss of breath and sweat. Then I said a dramatic "no", they laughed,  and I showed them (with my full body) the rhythm I wanted. This seemed to get the message across a bit better. 

Our next exercise incorporated Arabic rhythm words (dum, and tek). Check out this great write-up on Arabic Rhythms. These sounds are a simple representation of the sounds a darbuka makes when struck in certain ways. The "dum" is the bass sound, and the "tek"s are brighter and sharper. I demonstrated first, in 4/4 time, "DUM, tek, tek, tek" the DUM was accompanied by tapping our legs, and for the tek we tapped our heart space. They caught on quickly. Then I taught the next part. Salam means "peace" in Arabic. Since it has two syllables, I incorporated two movements. "Sa" - hands go up, back arches a bit. "Lam" - hands land back in the heart space. This caused a little more laughter as the women had to actually sing and they felt a bit uncomfortable. However, within seconds we were all singing "peace" and throwing our hands in the air.

The confusion came when I tried to put both parts together. I split them in two small groups again (three and three) and attempted to gesture what I wanted. The women were confused which part they should be doing and I had no words to help them. In an effort to save the good feeling we had previously (and not fill them with musical doubt) I cut the exercise off quickly and went back to "Salam". Then I made a signal to continue by rolling my hands to 3 of the ladies (like wheel's on the bus). They did. The other two ladies - with me - started the "dum, tek, tek, tek". It worked! For a while things sounded beautiful. It quickly fell apart, but I am happy with the sounds I heard. 

We ended the session with listening. I asked for favorite songs and they either found one on their mobile device or wrote down the name of the famous artist. I promised to incorporate these melodies or rhythms the following week (though I'm not sure they understood that). Next week, a friend and Arabic speaker will come with me to the session. Not only will she be able to translate small things if needed, but there will be another female voice in the class and THAT will be exciting. I am confident that 3 out of the 5 women that I met this week will be back. I have to be very happy with that as this is quite a strange request to ask a woman who has been through so much and is now in a strange land with a strange language and strange rules... 

However... I think my little experiment may actually be working! By the end of the half hour class, the Eritrean woman was making eye contact with me when before it had been "eyes down". The women in general also seemed a little more "lifted". Like the conversation (though words were limited) was easier. Music as communication. 

Next week I'll bring a small questionnaire and consent forms translated to Arabic. Hopefully I won't scare them away with all the words and we can just sing together once again. 

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