Grandmothers Partnering with Africa

Grandmothers Partnering with Africa Concert January 16, 2013

Gila informed me that I had to write a blog about our evening so that she could remember the names of the musicians who performed. It was an amazing evening that I wanted to record even without her request.

The evening was a benefit for the Stephen Lewis Foundation sponsored by Darchai Noam. As it was a fundraiser, there was also a silent auction. Before we found our table, we both took a look at the items offered. There were gift baskets of South African treats, wines packages, vouchers for Cineplex, yoga, golf, haircuts, manicures and facials, tickets to a Blue Jay game and some art. But the most impressive items were trips, one to New Orleans and one to South Africa for a Safari.

Going anywhere with Gila is never boring. Gila was riveted by the description of the South African Safari. The starting bid was $4500 for two, excluding air fare, a lot of money, but still quite a discount for that particular trip. She called me over a number of times to show me what she was interested in and to ask what I thought of the price. It was definitely too rich for my bank account, but Gila was fascinated by the prospect of visiting Africa. She had just spent some time with a friend who had been on a Safari at exactly the same animal reserve that was offered in the auction. The trip spoke to her. Would I be interested in that kind of trip? It sounded like the experience of a lifetime for a very urban senior, but in my mind beyond my means. While I browsed and bid on a Cineplex package, Gila signed her name on the bidding sheet.

The walls of the club are filled with paintings of jazz musicians and the stage is on a lower level than many of the tables so viewing the performance in not encumbered. Hugh’s Room is a wonderful venue for music, but the noise during the meal was almost as deafening as the Sound of Music dining room on our cruise. Gila introduced me to the people at our table. I chatted a little with several of the women but the rectangular table and the decibel level were not conducive to any sustained conversation. The evening began with dinner. The food was tasty although by the time it was served it was less than piping hot. The Caesar salad was a small head of romaine sprinkled with bacon, croutons and dressing. My fettuccini entrée had a sundried tomato pesto sauce, wilted spinach and shrimp. Crème brulee for dessert and a bottle of cabernet sauvignon ordered for our table rounded out the meal.

Before the concert started, Gila went to check the status of her bid. She was still the only signature for the trip. I was not surprised. I don’t know many people who come to a silent auction and spontaneously buy an expensive trip. Gila had already started planning. When traveling that far, it hardly seemed worthwhile to spend only one week in Africa. Now, it was going to be a month away from home, visiting acquaintances, sights, private tours, volunteering at some village school. (In truth the idea of volunteering in Africa intrigued me even more than the Safari.) I felt like the trip, already far from simple, was spiralling out of control. I envisioned money disappearing on wings into the ether, I envisioned debtors’ prison and a scurvy ravaged trip in steerage to Australia. Another questionable voyage! Fortunately, I was able to return to reality with the realization that sending debtors to a far off primitive land was the practice of another century and another culture.

The music carried me off with no further Walter Mittyesque scenarios. Bruce Cassidy was the leader of the band. He was a talented musician who had played with Lighthouse, Bachman Turner Overdrive and Burton Cummings. He had gone to South Africa for a year to write music and ended up living there for twenty-three years, collaborating with such brilliant artists as Hugh Masekella and Miriam Makeba. In fact, the trumpet he was playing had belonged to Hugh. His comparison of the attitude of white musicians to black ones was funny but apt. Black musicians were spontaneous, easy going, loose. White musicians were uptight, formal and rigid. Black men had invented jazz. White men had invented the march. It was the main sentiment in one of the songs Bruce wrote and sang, ‘I’m so White, but I’m so Funky’. The band consisted of a keyboard/piano player, a guitarist, a bassist and a drummer, with each one having the spotlight at some time during the set.

Bruce played the trumpet and another instrument called the EVU, the electronic valve unit. It is a wi fi contraption that can imitate almost any sound and has the full range of a piano. He also sang, but then was joined by a young South African woman Sophia Perlman who happened to be the pianist’s wife. Her grandmother had been an activist in Africa long before she was a grandmother. Sophie had a rich throaty voice and sang songs in Zulu, Swahili and several other African languages. The animated set had the vibe and sound of the townships, wonderful and difficult to sit through without tapping toes, clapping and swaying to the beat.

During the intermission, people were invited to make their last bids. Gila wandered off. I stayed at the table chatting with the others, talking about our trip to Eastern Europe, adult literacy and the Azreli Foundation project of publishing survivors’ memoirs. Just as the second set began, Gila returned to the table with the news that we were going to South Africa. At that point it was difficult to return to the music, it was difficult to imagine a trip to Africa and it was difficult thinking about the preparation that would be necessary. I didn’t know if I was excited or terrified at the prospect of this new adventure. Usually when planning a trip I research the itinerary, look at dates, compare prices and gradually become conditioned and ready to get going. I have never been told that I am off to an exotic destination without any forethought at all.

The second set featured Jackie Richardson. The power of her voice and the emotion she conveyed drew me back to the concert. She sang/talked her introduction to the song Fragile and then proceeded to the  plaintive song. The rendition was very different from Sting’s interpretation that I first heard after 9/11 but not in any way less poignant. Among the other songs presented was Oscar Peterson’s Hymn to Freedom. I remember working on this song with the choir at Ashton Meadows P.S. Later when I had a chance to chat with Jackie, she told me that Hymn to Freedom had been specifically composed for children’s voices.

For the finale, Sophie returned to the stage and the three vocalists presented an extended rendition of Free Nelson Mandela. The harmonization on each chorus was heavenly. The concert was over way too soon. Everyone began to disperse, some to get their coats, some to chat with the musicians and others to pay for and collect their purchases. The organizers were very busy using iPads and iPhones to electronically register the payments. Gila was among the last to make her payment and it was no surprise to me that the purchase did not go through. I know I could never put that amount on my Visa without having to write a cheque or at the very least, make arrangements beforehand with the bank. Gila is always calm and logical whever any problem arises. She called the bank, talked for a while and then was authorized to use the card. Easy when she does it. I would have been a wreck in a mini panic.

I’m still astounded about the entire evening. The music was unbelievably engaging. The cause was awe inspiring, but most of all Gila caught me totally off guard again. I cannot imagine making such an expensive commitment on the spot. Actually, what is more amazing is that I am really considering taking this trip! Am I crazy? Or do I recognize a unique opportunity to have an adventure I have never even dreamt about? Do I have to spend the months leading up to the trip rationalizing this decision? Or can I just accept the fact that this something I want to do and there is nothing wrong in indulging myself?  

OMG I’m going on Safari!!!