My first, and my foremost Jew’s harp student at the Nepal Music Centre, Sangeet Kumar Mandal, organized a concert at his school for Merethe, the vocal teacher at the NMC, and me. We composed a program where we presented Norwegian traditional folk music, ballads, and psalms. Also, I demonstrated Jew’s harps from various parts of Asia, as well as some Norwegian munnharpe tunes from the Setesdal region. We were picked up by the school’s jeep, and made our way through traffic jams and bumpy roads, all the way up to the school at the foot of the Sivapuri hills. We were delayed by the traffic, and arrived some time after the concert should have started – some 900 students sat fully packed in the assembly hall, eagerly waiting for the two Norwegian artists to arrive! No time for sound check and final rehearsal! During our performance, the students expressed their surprise loudly and applauded. Afterwards, we learnt that they never before had heard such sounds of the metal and bamboo Jew’s harps, and they were deeply touched by the songs and the improvisations that Merethe gave them. Together with my student, who is also an excellent table player, we had prepared a few musical meetings between Norwegian and Nepali tunes, like the Manchare tune on the “Meeting in the Mountains” CD. As the final, we played the most popular Nepali song: “Resham Phiriri”, and soon, the whole audience sang the song together with my Jew’s harp and Sangeet’s tablas!
After the concert, both the principal and one of the vice principals delivered speeches of gratitude to us, and we were invited to a light meal together with the staff. On our way through the entrance hall, we were greeted by a number of students, expressing their gratitude and their admiration. Some also wished to have our autographs! We were so pleased with our first school concert in Katmandu, looking forward to more presentations of Norwegian music on later occasions . . .
Svein
Thursday, December 3, 2009
My first visit to a Nepali village
My first meeting with the village people.
On Saturday 12. September, my friends Bina and Amit and I decided to go for a mountain hike to the Phulchowki mountain south of Kathmandu. In a guidebook, I saw this mountain described as a place to enjoy the many butterflies and the lush green forest. Our taxi brought us all the way to the Godawari park at the foot of the mountain. This beautiful park area contains a botanical garden as well as a forestry research and development centre. Before our mountain climb, we had a nice lunch in the park. Bina had prepared some good food and a salad, together with fruits and yoghurt for our picnic.
At the research centre, we heard that near the top of the mountain, there is a nice village inhabited by people from the Tamang tribe. Amit, being a Tamang from a different area, became keenly interested to meet these people. So, we took off on a side track that would lead us up to a pass close to the top of Mt. Phulchowki. The path was steep, with a dense forest on all sides. No and then the singing of birds broke the silence, some of them I recognized as similar to the sounds I had heard in the forest near Kyoto in Japan. Large black butterflies passed us among the trees. However, before I got my camera ready for a shot, they flickered away. Now and then, we met some people from the village, carrying down heavy loads on their heads, or doing some maintenance work on the path, which had some places been partly destroyed by the heavy rain. In the heat of the present sunshine, we sweated on our upward climb – much more than I use to do in Norway, due to the higher humidity. The steep path seemed to go on endlessly. Two hours later, we still saw no sign of the village, just the dense forest and the cloudy top of Mt. Phulchowki.
At last: the ringing of cowbells and the laughter of children! Soon after, we came to a small group of houses encircling a water post. I took of my dripping wet T-shirt and cooled myself in the cold flow of water. We filled our bottles, and Bina had some words with a nearby boy. “ Khaani village is half an hour away,” he told us, pointing out the direction. We sighed. After a short discussion, whether to return or to continue, we decided to go on, even if it was already late afternoon. We had to take the chance to get some overnight lodge in the village. Luckily, the climbing was done, the narrow road led us along the ridge of the valley behind the pass. Now, we could see nice farmhouses spread throughout the valley, far down and on the other side. Soon after, we reached the village. Stopping at the upper farmhouse, Amit addressed the people who were doing some work on the courtyard. They looked very happy and chatted with each other and with Amit. They not only were of the same tribe, they even had the same family name as him! Soon after, a fire was lit in the kitchen and we were invited inside. Both the floor and the walls were of brown clay, neatly polished and kept nice and clean. We sat down on some small taburets by the fireplace. I noticed that the smoke was dense up under the ceiling. However, it found a way out through an open window upstairs. Bina soon assisted with the preparing of the food, and the conversation was in a gay mood. Sharing their local Dhalbath with us, we also were offered the local brew: A fermented soup of corn – drinkable, but not very tasty!
Around nine in the evening, we were shown upstairs to our bedroom: A boy’s room belonging to the teenager of the family – the walls plastered with photos of music and movie stars. Among some pin-up girls, my eyes fell upon a big photo next to my bed – Norwegian fishing boats at sea, in front of the mighty Lofotveggen mountains! After a half awake night on the hard matrasses, we woke up to a beautiful sunrise, revealing the nearby landscape, and a glimpse of the Himalayas encircled by the morning mist! While still in our beds, our new teenager friend came up to us with hot lemongrass tea, carefully prepared by him. I took a lot of photos in the yellow early morning sun. After breakfast, we set off on our return journey downhill. Our footsteps being light and quick, we reached the Godawari park after a little more than one hour. A trip by the local bus brought us back to Lalitpur, where we took a taxi back home. I looked through my photo collection from the exiting weekend, some of them I have posted here.
On Saturday 12. September, my friends Bina and Amit and I decided to go for a mountain hike to the Phulchowki mountain south of Kathmandu. In a guidebook, I saw this mountain described as a place to enjoy the many butterflies and the lush green forest. Our taxi brought us all the way to the Godawari park at the foot of the mountain. This beautiful park area contains a botanical garden as well as a forestry research and development centre. Before our mountain climb, we had a nice lunch in the park. Bina had prepared some good food and a salad, together with fruits and yoghurt for our picnic.
At the research centre, we heard that near the top of the mountain, there is a nice village inhabited by people from the Tamang tribe. Amit, being a Tamang from a different area, became keenly interested to meet these people. So, we took off on a side track that would lead us up to a pass close to the top of Mt. Phulchowki. The path was steep, with a dense forest on all sides. No and then the singing of birds broke the silence, some of them I recognized as similar to the sounds I had heard in the forest near Kyoto in Japan. Large black butterflies passed us among the trees. However, before I got my camera ready for a shot, they flickered away. Now and then, we met some people from the village, carrying down heavy loads on their heads, or doing some maintenance work on the path, which had some places been partly destroyed by the heavy rain. In the heat of the present sunshine, we sweated on our upward climb – much more than I use to do in Norway, due to the higher humidity. The steep path seemed to go on endlessly. Two hours later, we still saw no sign of the village, just the dense forest and the cloudy top of Mt. Phulchowki.
At last: the ringing of cowbells and the laughter of children! Soon after, we came to a small group of houses encircling a water post. I took of my dripping wet T-shirt and cooled myself in the cold flow of water. We filled our bottles, and Bina had some words with a nearby boy. “ Khaani village is half an hour away,” he told us, pointing out the direction. We sighed. After a short discussion, whether to return or to continue, we decided to go on, even if it was already late afternoon. We had to take the chance to get some overnight lodge in the village. Luckily, the climbing was done, the narrow road led us along the ridge of the valley behind the pass. Now, we could see nice farmhouses spread throughout the valley, far down and on the other side. Soon after, we reached the village. Stopping at the upper farmhouse, Amit addressed the people who were doing some work on the courtyard. They looked very happy and chatted with each other and with Amit. They not only were of the same tribe, they even had the same family name as him! Soon after, a fire was lit in the kitchen and we were invited inside. Both the floor and the walls were of brown clay, neatly polished and kept nice and clean. We sat down on some small taburets by the fireplace. I noticed that the smoke was dense up under the ceiling. However, it found a way out through an open window upstairs. Bina soon assisted with the preparing of the food, and the conversation was in a gay mood. Sharing their local Dhalbath with us, we also were offered the local brew: A fermented soup of corn – drinkable, but not very tasty!
Around nine in the evening, we were shown upstairs to our bedroom: A boy’s room belonging to the teenager of the family – the walls plastered with photos of music and movie stars. Among some pin-up girls, my eyes fell upon a big photo next to my bed – Norwegian fishing boats at sea, in front of the mighty Lofotveggen mountains! After a half awake night on the hard matrasses, we woke up to a beautiful sunrise, revealing the nearby landscape, and a glimpse of the Himalayas encircled by the morning mist! While still in our beds, our new teenager friend came up to us with hot lemongrass tea, carefully prepared by him. I took a lot of photos in the yellow early morning sun. After breakfast, we set off on our return journey downhill. Our footsteps being light and quick, we reached the Godawari park after a little more than one hour. A trip by the local bus brought us back to Lalitpur, where we took a taxi back home. I looked through my photo collection from the exiting weekend, some of them I have posted here.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
A Murchunga player in Nepal
A visit to a Nepali murchunga (Jew’s harp) player in Ilam, Eastern Nepal.
In a village near Ilam in Eastern Nepal, I met Chandra Maya Rungmangma, one of the few remaining murchunga players in this region of the country. She is now 62 years old, wife of Nanda Bahadur Limbu from the Sangrumma village. As we were seated outside their traditional farmhouse, overlooking the lush green paddy fields, groups of banana trees and bamboos, she told us about her memories from her youth with the murchunga and also the binayo, the Nepali bamboo Jew’s harp with a string. When they were young, they used to gather in the morning or in the evening, some played and some danced to the tunes that we played. She recalls that with the murchunga, they could easily play about fifteen or sixteen tunes or songs before getting tired. However, while playing the binayo, they would get tired after only one tune. According to her, the Rai and other tribes used to play the murchunga or the binayo when they took their cattle to graze on the fields. Now, she can no longer easily play the murchunga and the binayo, since her tongue is getting stiff. I showed her a Norwegian murchunga, and at the first glance she commented that it was made with a fault, it had no tail. Besides, these instruments are too large for her. She needs the small Nepali murchunga to play properly. Nevertheless, she produced some nice tunes when I requested her to play. I asked her why she no longer had a murchunga. It was broken after some friends borrowed it from her, she replied. The binayo however, she keeps in a secret place. She even hesitated to show it to me!
Svein Westad
p.t. Music teacher,
Nepal Music Centre, Kathmandu.
In a village near Ilam in Eastern Nepal, I met Chandra Maya Rungmangma, one of the few remaining murchunga players in this region of the country. She is now 62 years old, wife of Nanda Bahadur Limbu from the Sangrumma village. As we were seated outside their traditional farmhouse, overlooking the lush green paddy fields, groups of banana trees and bamboos, she told us about her memories from her youth with the murchunga and also the binayo, the Nepali bamboo Jew’s harp with a string. When they were young, they used to gather in the morning or in the evening, some played and some danced to the tunes that we played. She recalls that with the murchunga, they could easily play about fifteen or sixteen tunes or songs before getting tired. However, while playing the binayo, they would get tired after only one tune. According to her, the Rai and other tribes used to play the murchunga or the binayo when they took their cattle to graze on the fields. Now, she can no longer easily play the murchunga and the binayo, since her tongue is getting stiff. I showed her a Norwegian murchunga, and at the first glance she commented that it was made with a fault, it had no tail. Besides, these instruments are too large for her. She needs the small Nepali murchunga to play properly. Nevertheless, she produced some nice tunes when I requested her to play. I asked her why she no longer had a murchunga. It was broken after some friends borrowed it from her, she replied. The binayo however, she keeps in a secret place. She even hesitated to show it to me!
Svein Westad
p.t. Music teacher,
Nepal Music Centre, Kathmandu.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
