How long have you been teaching the Mande class at Brown? How long has it been offered?
89? 1989.
And what was the process like of starting the class?
Well, when I auditioned to teach at Brown the man that was on my selection committee was George Bass who started Rites and Reason. He had known about my work previously because I had taught at Connecticut college, I was teaching at Trinity Conservatory, the theater, and I on occasion gave West African master classes. So they asked me just to teach a small version of that in my audition class, and I did. And apparently the students really really liked it. So when I did get hired I would on occasion do that. That wasn't what I was hired to do, I wasn't really interested in teaching that here because of my theater work that's what I wanted to do. Well anyway, I would on occasion give the West African master class and again, there was this overall amazing enthusiasm for it. So John Amy, who became chairman, wrote a grant with Chef over in music and a few other people in Africana studies to start a—just to do one of these one time deal courses on the dance music and culture of Africa and the Caribbean, a huge topic. And that was an amazing success. I mean, there were so many faculty people involved in that. Almost the whole Africana studies department, ethnomusicology, theater, American studies, you know, it was just this amazing, huge thing. And over 600 students signed up for the class—I mean it was really, we were like “wow”--we did not realize, you know, the impact that this line of study—But anyway, we just saw that this was big, this was really important. And so money was given for me to do extra sessions and I had been doing research over in Senegal at the time, so, I was given support to bring a Senegalese musician, and... But anyway, so it was a huge huge success. We organized through the cultural activities board a huge opening ceremony to sort of kick off the event to see what the interest was--we did it in alumni hall. Thousands of students showed up. You couldn't even stand in there. People were hanging out the windows--I brought Babatunde Olatunji and the Drums of Fire from Senegal. So anyway, it was just a major deal. So its sort of been going like that ever since. We eventually put it into the regular curriculum because of the great enthusiasm for it. So it just grew, you know, year after year, we kept getting the funding, thanks to support from people like John and Nancy Dunbar, and you know, people saw that this was a really important line of study.
So basically, with the support of John Amy and the dean, you know the dean who was... we were able to keep building another two courses. It used to be taught once every two years, and that was crazy because 400 people would show up and I'd be able to select 75 and now it's once every—it's a different course. There's two courses, one is contemporary Mande performance and the other is the one that we're doing now, which is the introductory level.
How did you first become interested in West African Dance?
That's a good story. Um, I was an undergraduate at the University of Wisconsin in Milwaukee and they were associated with the Milwaukee ballet, so a lot of the people I studied with were sort of stodgy—I will have to say stodgy—ballet people, and I was being adjudicated, right, it's like a—okay, like our tests—but there's a board of people that are [makes face]—checking off, looking at you, scrutinizing, and one of the headings was about their weight, you know ballet is so obsessive about weight and everybody else was going “Oh, she's five pounds overweight, look at that ... [laughs] --- and there was this lady from Sierra Leone named Fern Caulker Bronson, she was on the adjudication panel, and she said, “What are you talking about? I loved how she used her weight.” You know, I mean her whole notion of weight and the body were completely different and I'm like, “You're so healthy! Let me follow you everywhere you go” because I'd been in the ballet world my whole life and it was pretty sick. You know where all my friends were anorexic, believe me, taking amphetamines, you know, doing all kinds of crazy things to stay, well, the ballerina—very sick notions of the body, and I just couldn't—I wasn't into that. Anyway, so I started taking class with her and really enjoying it and it was sort of my salve, it was my place that I would go to just celebrate my physicality and I would always come away feeling so good that—unlike ballet where you'd always be beating yourself up and going, “Oh I didn't do that—did you see I didn't do that pirouette very well and I fell out on my third pirouette and dadadah...” So it just started very gradually, and I eventually, you know I would do workshops all over wherever I traveled and I met—I was down in St. Louis doing workshops and I was working with one of Katherine Dunham's master drummers from Senegal and it was a very positive connection, and... So I went to Senegal with him, started studying over there, and then it just started every year I would just start going back, so for five years, er five different times I went and studied in Gambia and Senegal, and then basically the story is that any questions I would ask them about these dances they would all say, “Oh they're originally from Mali,” and I was like “Mmmmhh— maybe I better go to Mali.” You know and as my interest grew and sort of the research and really understanding what I was doing, I decided to go to Mali. So in 1990 I met Yaya Diallo who had written a book called the Healing Drum and he was Malian, he was from Sikasso, he was actually Minianka, and he and I talked and I said, “Okay Yaya, I really want to go, you know, Let's go together and I want to shoot a film and I want to you know just start my research.” And so I got a grant at [can't understand] from the University to go, I organized a cameraman from Panama to come with me, and you know there was a lot of organizing, and at the last minute Yaya pulled out of the deal. Because there was a war ensuing in the Northern region of Mali with the Tuareg at this time, and it was a very precarious political time. There were a lot of demonstrations out in the streets and so he decided not to go because he thought that he would get sort of pulled into the political brouhaha. Anyway, so I went to Mali and shot a film and that was it. My experience in Mali was so different from my experience in Senegal. The Malian people were so different.
What was different?
Well, I'll put it this way without going into too much detail. Every time I went to Senegal I was ripped off by my teachers. I would study with them for two weeks, you know we would go everywhere together, and sure enough every night before I left someone would come in and steal from me one way or the other. And so I just—you know I got pretty weary of all that—very weary, because they were really untrustworthy, and they would pretend to be your best friend. And it wasn't just once, it was five times, and I just thought, “what is my problem, you know why am I...” But the Malian people were just the opposite, just the opposite. They would rather die than lose their integrity or to steal. I mean I have some great stories about that that were so humbling...
Well I have taken a group of Brown students to Mali and one of my former students—actually I hadn't met him yet—he was a senior at Brown, and he was traveling through Mali doing his own research, he was traveling through West Africa, and he was traveling out into the bush and he had left his briefcase with all his money, his passports, everything, on top of a bush taxi. And I don't know if you've traveled in West Africa, but we're talking desolate. We're going 500 km in the middle of nowhere and he had left this briefcase and he didn't realize he had left it until he was like a whole day's journey out into like Dogon country. Well anyway, so it took him two days to get back. And, you know, he figured just like anybody “Alright, well that briefcase is gone, you know, I've lost everything”—because it takes you forever to go anywhere. So he comes back to the station that he was at and he sees this little man standing there with his briefcase and you know, walking up to him thinking alright I'm going to duke this guy out but it was two days later right, and this little man had sat there and didn't go home for two days protecting the briefcase. He had had his family bring him food there because he knew that this was an important bag and that someone would be needing it. Hadn't been home—he had slept there—now that tells you the difference between Malian people and the Sene—I mean my experience, you know, I can only talk about my experience. So I was like wow, this is amazing, this is unlike anywhere else I've ever been. So it was just like, you know, I fell in love with Mali, the Malian people, the integrity, the generosity, the—ughhh—it was just really great. So I just had to keep going back to get a dose of humanity, a dose of compassion. You know, the people, they were all like that. I remember walking down the street with my friends and seeing this woman in this beautiful boubou, you know, beautiful. And I just said, “Oh my gosh, that's so pretty.” Well she goes into her house, takes it off and gives it to me. I'm like, “I don't—I don't want your boubou.” And she goes “No no no, you really appreciate this and it's for you.” So I mean things like that were happening to me all the time and I'm like--I'm so like humbled by this amazing--way. Anyway, so I fell in love with the country and the people and the dances—actually the dances were incredibly complex— I mean, more complex than any ballet routine I've ever done—any. I mean, I just could not—I was just blown away by it. It was really so challenging.
What was it like learning from the teachers, and maybe how did being American affect your relationships?
Well, I never felt for one minute racialized in any way. Even though the kids run up to you and go “Tubabu, tubabu,” which means white person or European--it isn't specific to skin color, they just know you're a foreigner. But my teachers were amazing, they were very generous with me. There was none of this, you know when I had studied African dance in America there was all this racialized “Oh well white people can't learn these dances”. I mean it was really kinda harsh. And I'd go to classes in Boston and I'd be told get to the back of the room, and I'd be pushed. It was very dicey to be studying African dance in America. But the Malians were amazing—very willing to share anything they knew. And I have some footage that's wonderful where the director of the National Ballet introduced me in front of this big crowd of like 200 people, and he said to everyone, “I want you to look at this woman who has spent thousands of dollars to come here, to study our tradition, and you all are forsaking your tradition—you don't know what you have. And I want you to look at this example because”—at that time there weren't many Americans, there were a lot of French people, but Americans really hadn't—you know it hadn't really started like it is now. I mean Americans come all the time to study and do things. But it was a really important moment because I realized that Mali was in a really really—on the threshold of big big change and people had started to deconstruct their tradition and leave—you know a lot of the young artists were wanting to do hip hop, and they were wanting to do this, you know. So this was a call to attention to a lot of the young people to—know who you are. You know, you can go off and do other things but don't leave your tradition, because this is important enough—and the world is watching, the world knows that this is important. So, yeah, I was really honored by everyone. It was really—it was nothing but a great experience.
What were the traditions that they were talking about—where did they come from?
Now what do you mean by that?
Was it like family traditions, or just the general traditions...
Mande. Okay, if we look at the concept of Mande, it is both an emotional, spiritual, and historic connection that the glue is the great Malian empire, and people will signify Sunjata Keita as sort of the central figure in this. And what he was able to do, we're talking medieval times, the 1200s, and he was able to organize and to align the twelve major tribes of West Africa into one alliance, into an empire that was from the west coast of Senegal all the way up into Niger—really a very very large, large—down to Northern Ivory Coast, Burkina Faso, Southern Mauritania—I mean, it was a huge, huge area. But what basically gets acknowledged, or, you know, whether its fact or fiction—but, it was like the Camelot, it was really this time of great leadership, great accomplishment, unification of the people. And those precepts and those concepts from the Keita rule have really stuck with Malians. They really hang together, unlike many of the other partitioned Francophile and Anglophile countries. And they really—they have organisms, they have traditions built in, like the bantering relationships between families, where people can say to one another in benign insults, “Your family... eats monkey feet”. Do you know what I mean and it's all within this sort of insulting and joking and it relieves tension all the time. I mean you don't know—like if anybody in here, right—if this were in Mali, people would—pretty soon they'd go, “Eh, what's your name?” And you'd say Keita, and then I being a Coulibaly would say “Ah Keita you're my slave get down and go—” you know what I mean, it's sort of an acknowledged pact between clans and families. And pretty soon everybody would know everybody, they'd know something about where they were from, and people would be laughing, and insulting each other. But basically it's even deeper than that, not only is it sort of a catharsis and a pulling together of a people, its in the Keita and the Coulibaly clan, there really are deep bonds. Like if a Keita came to me, I would—I am beholden to the Keitas for what they did historically, so I would have to, without begrudging—I would have to do their bidding. Like let's say they needed two goats, I would have to go buy them two goats, I mean, people are truly beholden to each other through these traditions, through this lineage. That's one.
Well what was it like bringing back people from—you bring back drummers, right--from Mali—What was that like?
In 19—My first trip there, as I said I worked with Dji Diakite, who's one of the big patrons of Malian dance, both a scholar and a leader. I said, well you know I'm learning all of these amazing dances, they're so specific—they're so specific. I can't go back to America and try to teach these without the specific rhythms. And so I said, can you help me find a musician who you think is, you know, who I could bring back. Well, he found somebody that had been in one of his companies, who was sort of a mediocre—you know they weren't going to give me the name of someone that they really needed, right—so he was kind of a—a konkone player, and a new Djembe player, you know somebody that could help me—cause I was beginning in Malian dance too. So I brought back this guy named Abdoul Doumbia to work with me at Brown and then, little by little, a whole steady stream of Malian artists started coming. So now this is really the hub of Mande—Colorado, Abdoul's moved to Colorado and there's another artist, Djeneba Sako, who's in Colorado, but, it all started at Brown.
Do some of the Malians stay in the U.S.? Do any of them live here now?
[nods] There are probably close to twenty, twenty to thirty Malian artists who have stayed, married, become citizens, but who sojourn back to Mali and build schools and you know, they have used this experience in true Mande notion of the hero—you know they've gone off into the world, made money, made a name for themselves, brought honor to their family, and they come back and they—you know they're helping not only their families, but their communities.
What value do you see from the classes and from the interaction between cultures for Malians and Americans?
Well, it's sort of an egalitarian and, maybe not quite so, egalitarian exchange of ideas, resources, but basically--actually we're the ones that get the most out of it, because what we learn are life's bigger lessons, right. Americans, as culturally—very—again, these are generalizations, right, I mean when I say this I feel a little bad saying this because it's not always true...
What were you saying?
So what's happening right now is something very exciting. We have been able to build a school in Mali due to years and years of bringing students there. The school is almost finished, and what that school—it's mission is to create egalitarian exchanges between art, science, and entrepreneurial endeavors, where American students, European students, I mean students--anybody that calls me and wants to go, I set them up in mentorships, apprenticeships, with NGOs that are doing—like Save the Children, some people just went last semester to do volunteer work. We're now working with an NGO called the crisis of mothers which is to stop the exploitation of children who have been abandoned, it's just all very complex. We're working with an orphanage to bring focus to this plight of children. The issues of malaria infection—having had malaria three times and almost dying from it twice, and seeing that every thirty seconds a child dies in sub-Saharan West Africa from Malaria, I'm very committed at this time to using my art and my resources and all the artists to create theater that tours around Mali to look at the simplicity of using nets, Mosquito netting and proper nutrition to combat some of these infectious diseases. I'm not dealing with AIDS right now, there's another group that's dealing with that. But AIDS and Malaria do go hand in hand—you know if we're talking compromised immune systems. So, there is a lot of work going on. Over the years I have brought people there who have built 6 schools, one medical clinic, who have brought supplies, medical supplies, computers, educational supplies, you know I mean its really starting to happen now. And then also the door is open for Malian artists to come here. I've employed so many of them--I've had three Africanist Weekends, the festivals here, where Malian or I should say Mandinkan artists come and they're employed, you know it works both ways. So that's—but the real value is in the healing aspects of this art form—the music, and the community building, and—you know, what its about are the things that make societies and cultures function. You know, I just think it's—I'm always learning, I'm always, you know every time I go there I'm always—re-inspired by what I'm learning, I mean it's never ho-hum, there's just so much to learn and... So I hope to take as many students with me as possible every year to get people hooked—I mean you know there is a hook, right—once you go you have to keep going back-- And to really bring things that are necessary there. Mali is still the fifth poorest country in the world, it's one of the worst places in the world for women and children. In my own family—my husbands family—out of twelve children that were born, only nine survived. The infant mortality rate is very very high due to malaria. Economically, with something like malaria and AIDS that wipes out nations, it affects the economics—you know, they can't—they're always sick, they're always in this sort of—malaise--I mean I know I've been there. But being in America my treatments were very radical and efficacious, but I still keep getting it, so.
Do you think there's now a national movement in the U.S. surrounding African dance or West African dance?
Oh yeah, very big. Senegalese, Guinea, Mali, Burkina... there are practitioners in Mande dance in many big universities now, teaching... it's really exciting. And there are these big national festivals that happen all the time. One called Tamba Cunda, which is up in California, there's one up in New Hampshire. You know we used to have one, but I haven't done it for a couple years. Maybe I'll do it again, you know much more connected to the city, and Brown, and try to get RISD, Brown, Black Rep, try to get some other partners besides just the students at Brown.
Do a lot of students who take your class end up going to Mali with you?
You know, some. I mean right now we're on a very very high, potent initiative to take around 30 students to work this summer, to bring mosquito netting, to work with these NGOs, to work with Save the Children, Crisis of Mothers, Nothing but Nets—it's an American organization--and the orphanage to develop movement theater that addresses the issues of malaria. And we've been invited by the ministry of culture to perform at the opening ceremonies of the Biennale festival which is a big national, international festival in Kai. Yeah, so it's great. So we're trying to raise money, it's coming in at a little over $5000 dollars per student, we have to raise some money.
Wait is that New Works/World Traditions that's going?
Yup, New Works.
How is [New Works] different than the [Mande] class? Do you do the same type of dance?
New Works we develop new theater performances that are rooted in Mande tradition, I use concepts of Mande performance, ritual, the notion of healing, but the main idea in Mande performance is that performance is there to perform, to educate, to raise up both spiritual and intellectual pursuits, so, all of my pieces—and they were always like this, but I just found a house in Mande tradition—their first function is to educate, and to teach lessons about how to be a better person, how to be a better community person, how to take care of the nation, yourself and the nation. So our piece is about Malaria, it's called Bloodline, so we're developing—New Works develops new movement theater through image, through development of text. I have a lot of footage of children in different villages that I've gone to. I've shown a little bit to you guys—not much. But that's what we do, I mean we develop work for the concert stage, for tours, that addresses a lot of the issues that could help. You know, theater is that powerful powerful place that provokes conversation, involvement, social action. So that's what we do. You know I'm teaching you guys specific dances from specific regions that are social dances, that are ceremonial dances. Then we'll take some of that information and we will create around it—use those dances to, you know—they're sort of at the core. But it's really a very very big creative expression and I hope everybody will come see at the spring festival of dance what we're doing.
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