Of music and time travel
If Music be the fuel of travel, fill my tank and let it play.
May I traverse the world.
Take me on journeys uncharted, through its jungles and cities.
Tickle my taste buds, infuse me with the culture and its people.
Yet, to revisit sweet memories of days gone by is the quickest journey of all.
Ever hear a song that transports you to a time and place in your past? You recall with joy or remorse the mood of that era and like deja vu relive the experience virtually.
Siblings on holiday from boarding school. Black out nights, seated on the veranda under the canopy of a night sky illuminated by the moon and sprinkled with glowing stars. Engrossed in the tales of the school term we lean in. Suddenly electricity returns, blinding our eyes, the TV blips on arresting a conversation in mid sentence (who forgot to off the TV after the lights went out?). We dash to the sitting room, it's Thursday night, 10:00pm - time for "The Old Fox".
Music by ABBA transports me to sunny afternoons in the mid 80's, on Katonga road. In a quiet house, its occupants reading or taking a nap the music plays that is, until side A is over and the tape waits in silence to be turned over to side B. The pocket size cassette tapes made of plastic with the band photo inserted in the front jacket; 4 Swedes, 2 men and 2 women. The ladies; a blond and a brunette dressed in Maxi's, the men; in large collar white shirts and belly bottoms.
Dad's music collection neatly stacked in a red mini briefcase - our source of entertainment. Record albums the size of dinner plates lie in a pile below the record player. Favorites on the top: Bee Gees, Shalama, Michael Jackson, George Benson, Culture Club, Boney M, Donna Summer...
Recently, feeling a little home sick, I turned to YouTube for some Ugandan music. As I listened to Samali Matovu's "Omukwano" I was transported to Nakawa market on a hot Friday afternoon. A fish monger scales tilapia for a customer while a skinny brown dog naps under a tree. Two boda-bodas' are packed at the road side their owners eager to pick customers from the taxi that just halted at the stage. Across the road a special hire driver leans back in the driver's seat of a white Corolla, he contemplates the possibility of the next client. A lady emerges from the market salon with a green bucket full of grey water which she pours on the soil, it creates a map on the ground and quickly sinks in swiftly, the ground cools off with an "aaaaah!".
Hajat Madina sings "Bibuuza" and the taxi headed to Serere stops shortly after Kumi hospital. The driver runs into a kiosk. The shop verandas have open sacks of millet, sugar and rice stationed in front of each door, the shop keepers hidden behind wooden counters. A man walks past with a small radio close to his ear, he is cajoled by the ring of a bicycle bell behind him "egaali!, egaali!"
Further ahead 2 little topless boys run across the potholed street sticks in hand, they laugh to their hearts content. A woman wrapped in a green and yellow kitenge shouts "orwa emotoka!" (watch out for the cars!) the children disappear behind the wall. A cobbler mends shoes in a corridor, while 2 shops up, a tailor rocks his Singer sowing machine, his finished products dangle on the clothes line to his left.
I look out my window and see the neighbor walking her dog, she stoops to scoop the do and it starts to snow. I return to my present circumstances, reminded that we are oceans apart. Time to get on with the task at hand.
It's powerful, it entertains, enriches, relaxes... it takes you places but right now, it makes me homesick.
May I traverse the world.
Take me on journeys uncharted, through its jungles and cities.
Tickle my taste buds, infuse me with the culture and its people.
Yet, to revisit sweet memories of days gone by is the quickest journey of all.
Ever hear a song that transports you to a time and place in your past? You recall with joy or remorse the mood of that era and like deja vu relive the experience virtually.
Siblings on holiday from boarding school. Black out nights, seated on the veranda under the canopy of a night sky illuminated by the moon and sprinkled with glowing stars. Engrossed in the tales of the school term we lean in. Suddenly electricity returns, blinding our eyes, the TV blips on arresting a conversation in mid sentence (who forgot to off the TV after the lights went out?). We dash to the sitting room, it's Thursday night, 10:00pm - time for "The Old Fox".
Dad's music collection neatly stacked in a red mini briefcase - our source of entertainment. Record albums the size of dinner plates lie in a pile below the record player. Favorites on the top: Bee Gees, Shalama, Michael Jackson, George Benson, Culture Club, Boney M, Donna Summer...
Hajat Madina sings "Bibuuza" and the taxi headed to Serere stops shortly after Kumi hospital. The driver runs into a kiosk. The shop verandas have open sacks of millet, sugar and rice stationed in front of each door, the shop keepers hidden behind wooden counters. A man walks past with a small radio close to his ear, he is cajoled by the ring of a bicycle bell behind him "egaali!, egaali!"
Further ahead 2 little topless boys run across the potholed street sticks in hand, they laugh to their hearts content. A woman wrapped in a green and yellow kitenge shouts "orwa emotoka!" (watch out for the cars!) the children disappear behind the wall. A cobbler mends shoes in a corridor, while 2 shops up, a tailor rocks his Singer sowing machine, his finished products dangle on the clothes line to his left.
I look out my window and see the neighbor walking her dog, she stoops to scoop the do and it starts to snow. I return to my present circumstances, reminded that we are oceans apart. Time to get on with the task at hand.
It's powerful, it entertains, enriches, relaxes... it takes you places but right now, it makes me homesick.
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Hey! Thanks for dropping by :-)