I find myself now in the strange position of being between journeys. My Fulbright year in South Africa is officially over and the next phase of my life has yet to begin. I am extremely busy, but everything I’m doing has to do with closing one chapter and opening another. I’m selling my car and moving out of my apartment, while trying to book camp sights in Botswana and fuel sources in Zimbabwe. It is hectic, but exciting. Times like these are special though, because they allow you to look at the past and future without being stuck in any one place. And it is through this lens that I have begun to look back on my year in South Africa.

It is strange to think that twelve months ago I was still nervously making my way, trying to figure out how to survive in this “harsh” environment. I was disoriented, worried about security, and hadn’t figured out where I would be teaching or even where I would be living. Now, I look back on that time with a bit of amusement. The things that seemed so difficult then are a breeze now and life in South Africa has become completely comfortable. In fact, the idea of living in the US again seems kind of strange to me now!

The experience of living in a foreign country and getting to know new and beautiful cultures has been one of the greatest and most defining experiences of my life. I have so many wonderful stories to tell from this year that I wouldn’t even know where to begin. I have traveled all over South Africa and have managed to see bits of Lesotho, Namibia and Zimbabwe as well. I have gotten to know the Field Band Foundation from the bottom up and the top down, and I have made many lasting friendships which I will cherish. I have bettered myself personally and have also learned a lot about life.

I originally thought that my year would be defined by my Fulbright project and the work I would do with the Field Band Foundation. But, I had no idea how powerful the experience of simply living here would be. The memories that stand out in my head are not the lessons I taught or the films I made, but rather the moments when I found myself hopelessly and happily fixed in present time, living.

I remember vividly the first time I visited a township and was shocked by the images of poverty which I now somehow take for granted. I remember staring out from my car window and gaping at a row of unearthly baobab trees in Limpopo and thinking, “I really am in Africa!” I remember watching a single tear stream down the face of one of my students when he found out that he would not be able to go to Norway with the National Field Band. I remember dancing one night in the middle of a township in the Northern Cape as two young black children stared at me with the most beautifully innocent curiosity. I remember so many moments like these, where time seemed to stop and the full perceptions of everything around me just took over.

South Africa is a unique and special place. I’ve grown to love it dearly, but did not always have such positive feelings. Life can be very complicated here. Crime is never far away, race relations are often troublesome, and basic infrastructural issues, like power outages, broken traffic lights, and failing roads, are becoming a major problem. These are the things that keep many people away from South Africa and which scared me quite a bit when I first arrived. But, once I got past this and began to really look at this country for what it is behind all of that, I saw something very beautiful.

South Africa is a multicultural society in the fullest sense of the term. Even within the many races that exist here, there are a multitude of cultures and subcultures. I have become fascinated with how it all works and the fact that somehow, despite the abhorrent history of this country and the cultural differences which abound, people can actually live together as South Africans. There is still plenty of racism, disparity, and governmental problems, but it is a free society and one which has triumphed one of the greatest tests in history.

No matter what people may say, the magic of South Africa, glorified during the years of Nelson Mandela’s rule, is still alive. It is alive in every person who can put race aside, even if for a moment, and treat a person simply as another human being, or as fellow South African. I see this happen all the time, even if it is never reported or even noticed. People are often so concerned about racial tensions and the many other problems in this country that they often fail to see the holes being broken in racial barriers.

It was a very special experience for me as a white man to work in black South African communities and to really get to know theses areas. I gained an enormous amount of cultural perspective and understanding of South Africa, which I will treasure forever. But, I think, perhaps my students gained more than I did from this arrangement. I showed them that they could trust me and may just have changed their perspective on racial issues in the process. I first became aware of this when Sello, one of my students, made a comment while I was filming him that I had showed him that “white people, they love black people.” This very innocent and generalized statement really struck me. If I was actually somehow responsible for changing my students’ opinions on race, what else might I be teaching them?

In my first post, I wrote that, “my project deals with the importance of music in childhood education.” And that’s very much how I looked at what I was doing for a long time. I was simply teaching music. But, while I was showing my students a certain technique or telling them about drumming in America, apparently there was more too it.

When I first started working for the Field Band Foundation, several people stressed in their conversations that the foundation is a life skills program which simply uses the medium of music and dance to reach children. While I understood this concept, it never really hit home until recently. The music really is just the thing that brings everyone together under one roof (or one field in this case). But, it is the interactions and the process of working together and learning from each other that makes the program really work. When I think about it, I realize that I learned an enormous amount from my students, and very little of it had to do with music.

In the end, I think that I may have had more of an impact than I suspected. And my drummers won the National Championships too! So, despite any doubts I may have had along the way, I am really proud of everything I did. I honestly can’t imagine a better thing to have done for a year. I managed to do all the things I love doing and picked up some true life lessons along the way. I think I will live the rest of my days with at least a bit of that South African magic running through my veins.

Thank you for reading my blog. It’s been a blast to write and I really appreciate the comments you’ve sent me and the interest you’ve had in my work. I will be starting a new blog soon and will continue my work in music and film. I don’t think I’ll be able to avoid doing a bit more teaching either! Feel free to contact me at jimcol@gmail.com. Thanks again, and, as they say in Zulu, Hamba Kahle – go well.

As you may recall from last year, the National Championships is the culminating event held each year for the many bands that comprise the Field Band Foundation. The groups come to Johannesburg from all over the country to compete for top honors in several different categories. Each band has to put a twelve-minute show together and compete in one of two divisions: the First Division or the Premiere Division. The First Division is for younger bands and low-scoring groups from the previous year’s Premiere Division competition. The Premiere Division is for the top bands. Also, as part of the two-day event, there is a solo and ensemble competition and a “prescribed piece” competition in which the bands perform a set piece composed for the event.

I attended last year’s championships just four days after I arrived in South Africa. I was feeling quite nervous about the fact that I had just moved to a country with one of the highest crime rates in there world, where I knew no one and had no idea of how to get around. But, as soon as the first band marched onto the field and began to play, my fears melted. I remember looking out at the excitement in front of me and thinking that this was going to be good after all.

A year later, I found myself in the same stadium watching the same bands perform similar music. Yet, this time around, it was a completely different experience. Instead of watching a sea of foreign faces, I was looking at friends and people who I had come to know and love. I felt a strong connection to each band since I had visited them all at least once during the course of the year. I knew where they came from, I could remember the school where they rehearsed, and I knew many of the personalities in each group. As I walked around and stadium, I found myself shaking hands and greeting people all over. It was like all the experiences I had had over the course of the year had suddenly come together in one massive celebration of music and dance.

As you may know, I focused most of my teaching efforts on the Cullinan Field Band. Even though they had come in last place at last year’s Championships, I was feeling a lot of hope for them and knew that they could win something at this year’s competition. I had spend many months working with the drummers, and the foundation had also put a lot of resources into the band this year. They sent the foundation’s top dancer to lead the group for several months, then they sent two Norwegian music teachers to work with the band, and finally posted two South Africans who had just returned from a year of study in Norway as the new band directors.

I watched the band grow over the course of the year and it was amazing to see the changes that hard work and competent leadership can create. Though the road to the championships wasn’t always smooth, the band had developed a core of dedicated plays who I knew could carry them through.

As you can imagine, my heart was pumping when Cullinan stepped onto the field at the Championships. Earlier in the year, they were devastated to hear that they would have to perform in the First Division because of their poor performance in the 2007 Championships. But, as I watched their faces on the field, I saw pride and confidence, not shame. They played their program far better than ever before. I found myself crying as I tried to rush around with my camera to film every bit of it

Later, I watched my drum students perform in the percussion ensemble competition while I floated around filming the many events in the Solo and Ensemble competition. I also watched Sello (the boy from several of my videos in earlier posts) compete in the percussion solo competition, and one of my students competed in the solo dance competition as well. It was a thrill to see so much creativity and individual talent as I walked around the various sections.

When the announcer came to the microphone at the end of the day to announce the winners, there were butterflies in my stomach. Though perhaps I shouldn’t really have cared about the prizes (the FBF is about improving lives, not winning competitions), I was rooting for Cullinan all the way. In the end, they did better than I could have imagined. They won for the best percussion and best brass sections in their division. They also won the percussion ensemble competition, and scored second for the prescribed piece. Even Sello and my student who entered the dance competition won in their respective solo divisions. Those last four were all out of the entire foundation, not just the First Division, so they really proved themselves. It was thrilling to see these kids who had worked so hard and who I had come to know so well get validated for everything they had done. And then to top it off, the band won the First Division championship! All in all, they collected seven prizes, far more than any other band.

The Premiere Division the next day had it’s own highlights though nothing for me could beat the previous day’s excitement with Cullinan winning. Many of the bands in the Premiere Division reached a level of performance that wouldn’t have been thought possible in the Field Band Foundation several years ago. Often, when people watch the field bands perform, they say how great they are considering the tough backgrounds they come from and the relatively few resources they have. But, the top bands have reached a level that is just simply good, no qualifications necessary. That is a big step for the foundation and it shows an enormous amount of progress.

It was a bit sad at the end of the day to realize that my year with the Field Band Foundation was over. For so long, it had seemed like the FBF was just another part of my life. As I walked back to my car I had the strange feeling that I had been just a small and transient part of a much bigger entity. One year is really not much time in the scheme of things, but I am still so proud of everything that I did. I was also really touched by the many thanks-yous and compliments I got from my students. One guy even gave me a trophy, which was probably the sweetest gift I’ve ever received. I will surely continue to help the foundation going forward, but I have the deepest respect for those who will continue to devote their lives to bettering lives through music and dance in the Field Band Foundation.

I’m including some photos below and also a few roughly edited video clips from the Championships, featuring the Cullinan band and the percussion ensemble (drum line). If I had more time, I would make a full video, but I leave South Africa very soon and there are miles to go before I sleep. I think you’ll get the picture anyway. Also, I will also be producing a DVD in December featuring all the videos I made this year. Feel free to email me (jimcol@gmail.com) if you’d like to get a copy when it’s finished.

Panamanian, by way of DR, Demphra got her first crash course in Reggae music after moving to PTY as a child. Shortly thereafter, she began penning her own verses, and was “discovered” at a local radio station as a teen. In 2001, Demphra joined La Factoría, meaning Music Factory, along with three other up-and-coming artists. Their debut album “DJ Pablito Presents La Factoria” became an international hit and sold over 200,000 albums throughout Latin America. Shortly after the success of their debut album, the male artists left La Factoría to launch solo careers—leaving the group “totalmente feminista.” Undeterred by their departure, Joycee and Demphra went on to record three more successful albums. They have recently been making a name for themselves in the United States with their popular hit “Perdóname” which they recorded with Eddie Lover, a fellow Panamanian reggaetonero. Check out excerpts from my convo with Panamanians’ favorite rude gyal:

Note: Interview conducted in Spanish. This translation is the author’s.

LARNIES: So, why Reggae music?

WILLA DEMPHRA: When I arrived from the Dominican Republic, I shut myself in my bedroom, and I put the radio to its maximum volume. I was listening to a radio station, I don’t recall the name of it, and they played Reggae for the first time. I was like “What is this?!” I started to dance alone and I saw that I had goose bumps. “This is what I like,” I said to myself. I spent days dancing by myself. For me, listening to reggae for the first time, for me it was almost like sex, it was an incredible experience. Truly incredible. The first reggae artist I heard was El General.

LARNIES: Oh, yeah?

WILLA DEMPHRA: And he amazed me. And because of this, listening to this clip, listening to reggae music [on the radio], I ended up working in this… working in Reggae.

LARNIES: Has society’s perception of Reggae changed since you first listened to it as a child?

WILLA DEMPHRA: Yes, it has changed a lot. Before in Panama, they considered Reggae something low-class. It was a music form that wasn’t good enough for certain societies. For example, those of the upper class didn’t listen to Reggae, because it was from the ghetto. But thank God, today, even the President dances to Reggae. Everyone dances to reggae. Now it’s like Merengue, it’s like Rap. Thank God… I feel very, very happy that Reggaeton—that’s what it’s called—is reaching new heights.* I thought it was a passing fad. I thought that Reggaeton was going to die. But thanks to the changes, to the fusions that we make nowadays, people are accepting it. I think it came; no it already arrived to stay because today even the salseros want to sing Reggaeton. Everyone wants to sing Reggaeton. And the great thing about Reggaeton is that you can fusion it with whatever you want. You can fusion it with Trance, with Rap, with Merengue, with Soca.

LARNIES: What’s it like being a woman in this male-dominated industry?

DEMPHRA: Well, at the beginning it was really difficult because there were a lot of sexual advances and false promises, you know what I mean? There were a lot of little problems. But when I focus on a goal, problems are like little stumbling blocks. I might fall, but I get back up and I keep on walking. I feel privileged being a woman singing Reggaeton. Because honestly, there are few, very few and today La Factoría is one of the most popular.

LARNIES: How has La Factoría’s image evolved? Why did you two make these changes?

WILLA DEMPHRA: Our image has changed greatly. Before, we were pretty, obviously women with meat, with curves, with big breasts, fine; but today I believe that the prototype of what sells is being really thin. So we made the decision to lose weight. Also, in terms of wardrobe, we tried to change, seeing as though fashion continues advancing and one as to keep up with the trends. Before, I wore hats and baggy pants or shorts like the men. Now I’m more elegant, I’m a little more refined now that Reggaeton is an established music form. It’s a brand. Now people see Reggaeton like any other genre in the world.

LARNIES: Do you consider yourself a feminist?

WILLA DEMPHRA: Completely feminist since the beginning, since I write what I live. Everything that I live, everything that you heard on the first CD “La Willla Demphra” is what I lived with every guy, with the boyfriend, with the neighbor…I lived it. I always write about what happens to me and love hasn’t been too good to me. So I consider myself a very strong woman in that sense. I have my little heart. I am weak at times, but the only thing that weakens me is seeing others’ sadness, poverty, abuse. Domestic violence against women concerns me a lot and therefore I consider myself a completely feminist woman.

The Norwegian Band Federation and the Norwegian Peace Corps (Fredskorpset) have done a lot for the Field Band Foundation. Every year they send six Norwegian musicians to South Africa to teach music, discipline and organization to the field bands. The Field Band Foundation also sends several of their members to Norway to teach South African music and culture. It is a unique learning experience and has produced many great results for the FBF and the Norwegians as well. The program is funded by the Norwegian government and the 2008 Field Band tour served as a showcase of the success of the exchange, as well as a very entertaining international highlight to the festival.

Whereas the Field Band Foundation prides itself on its energy, spontaneity and (for lack of a better term) “African-ness”, Norwegian marching bands tend to be much more formal, disciplined and militaristic. In fact, the country’s most highly regarded marching band, the King’s Guard, is a military band through and through. But, this stark contrast between the Norwegians and the South Africans was really wonderful to see and audiences at every stop were blown away by the energy and warmth of the field band. In one scene from my video (posted below), you’ll see the Kings Guard followed immediately by the field band, and I think you’ll see what I mean about this contrast.

Though the performances were spectacular and beyond all my expectations, perhaps the most memorable moments of the tour for me were the many fun and often hilarious events that happened in between the performances. Wherever we went, there was a constant flow of energy and enthusiasm though the band. Whether they were rapping in Zulu, cracking jokes, singing traditional songs or playing pick-up soccer, every moment seemed to be filled with activity and fun. I got to know the group quite well and really enjoyed spending time with them as a friend and not just a teacher. I generally only see my students in South Africa during the scheduled times that I teach, so this opportunity was really special for me and definitely one of the highlights of my year with the Field Band Foundation.

Though I joined the tour as an innocent cameraman, I got conscripted into driving the instrument truck, then shuttling people around in a beat-up van after our bus broke down, and even acting as tour director for a couple of days when the person in charge got sick! So the tour was definitely pretty eventful for me too and though it got a bit stressful at times, I thoroughly enjoyed the experience and would gladly do it again. In fact, I would love more than anything to organize a field band tour to the US. Perhaps I will set myself to that task when I get back home…

Take a look at the video below and let me know what you think. It’s the longest video I’ve made so far on the Field Band Foundation, but anything shorter just wouldn’t have done justice to the tour. I think mostly everything in the video is self-explanatory. But, if you are wondering how the band wound up singing and dancing along to a Romanian folk band, well I’m still a bit shocked about that myself! The Romanians were another international guest at the festival and apparently what started off as an impromptu drum competition between the South Africans and the Romanians turned into one of the most bizarre and amazing cross-cultural displays I could imagine. I hope you enjoy!

I learn to care more about the things and people of importance in my life. I care about the poor kids who have no pants, the sex worker who has no other choice, the corrupted who lost their way, and the hopeless who feel that they cannot change the world they see. I care for the people who spoke my name this one special year and helped me remember what my name means. I care for the people I laughed with, people I hugged, and people who gave me time. I care for the people who had taken advantage of me and the people who treated me with honesty. They are still people. I care for the people who I had not met and the people who I made friends.

I care for the man who cut me the fresh coconut juice. I care for the cyclo man who took me to Central Market. I care for the police officer that wanted bribe money. I care for the politician who wanted to shoot me. I care for the rich Cambodian kids who looked at me when I walk into their place; out of place. I care for the politicians whose corruption money helped him buy his Landcruiser(s). I care for the lady who sells me sweet mango and coconut rice. I care for Auntie who smiles at me every time I order rice and eggs. I care for the people who look and stare at an out of place person in an out of place country.

I care for Chariya who gave me hope and support for the year. I care for my ballerina dancer who left with memories of love. I care for Socheta who brought me a chocolate roll every time it was available. I care for Casmir who spent New Years with me. I care for Brother T who took me home when no one else did. I care for Kaa who gave me a smile every time we bargained for a mosquito net. I care for Kanal, for whom I lost his number and the bowl of noodles we both shared. I care for Bong Phany and Bong Long for the long trips to the countryside and constant word of guidance, laughter, and who made me feel like I was their brother. I care for Luk Kru and Nek Kru would never lost their humor even though most times, things were not funny. I thank my Cambodia Mother, Aunties, and Uncles who adopted me and welcomed me with hospitality. I care for my sugar cane girls who always remember to give me sugar cane juice without orange squeeze. I care for the orphan kids who I sit with and argue about WWE on the waterfront. I care for Nina and our made up T-shirt business. I care for Sarah Dee and Sarah Tee who were real friends to me and but who I failed to meet our friendship with expectations. I care for Noy, my sexy beast that always matches my laughter with hers. I feel for my motop brother who name I forgot that gave me a ride one day even though I had no money. I care for Rina’s DVD shop for keeping me busy with movies at night. I care for Sergio for always greeting me every time I see him. I care for Bong at the FCC who always smiles when we shook hands. I care for my fried banana lady who fries the best bananas in Phnom Penh. I care for the T&Coffee staff that always remembered when I shaved or had my hair cut. I care for the people in the countryside who I know one day life will be better. I especially care for my kids – my Tonle Bassac Kids who I come to call young brothers and sisters. I think about my fellow Fulbrights who speak condescendingly towards my work, that I am not doing nothing but I care for the laughs from them knowing that I have one of the greatest treasure in the world. I know of things they didn’t experienced, how to sit, eat, sleep, dance, smile, laugh, cry, sing, travel with kids who do not know nothing about what a Fulbright is. I care for the pretension of them towards Cambodia because I have enough of my time here to write a book that people I know will choose to read. I care for their pleasure on the decision making process of which expat restaurant or making happy hour but I make happy hour of enjoying my watching of my young brothers and sisters dancing. If my other Fulbrights only saw what I understood this year, then they would understand why I took this Fulbright experience to Cambodia not as resume builder, free vacation for 10 months, or a stepping-stone to grad school, but as an understanding to people in the world. I think deeply if their Fulbright really brought them a sense of Cambodia like it did to me but then I do not know what they talked about during happy hour, but I care to know what I experienced during mine time of happy hour.

PS: I will leave you with a 12 min edit of my video, if you want a copy and can’t wait for the full upload on the web, you can email me. Also some there some more items to boot. Photo credits go to Rany and Jenny.

I would like to finally thank Fulbright, mtvU, IIE, State Department, and my new and old family and friends for giving me this year. Thank You.

Here is a Transcript of the video:

1. Kids singing

I asked the kids to sing me a song, they started but then I stopped them and joked with them on how they are not doing the motion. They laughed and then told me I had to give them more money. Then we restarted the song which then lead in to the start of the teaser.

2. It starts with the first interviewee talking about the importance of this music by the deceased artist reveals a cambodian connection to culture and revealing of cambodian life. Then it continue to the next interviewee talking about how he remembers growing up how his mom and him used to listen to the music and how his granddad will save up money to buy batteries to listen put in the radio

3. Next, one of my kids I interviewed sings me a very moving classic song. Just the acapella reachs to the scope of the lyrics

4. Cuts to a local Khmer artist who is talking about the Khmer Rouge and how the people upon the return were so emotional upon hearing the music for the very first time

5. The founder of Cambodian Living Arts is talking about how these artist were called “legends” and then talk about the far reaching of the music. It then continues to next person who is talking about music preservations of NGOs to preserve the arts and culture of Cambodia.

6. It finishes with the process of a recent CD making efforts in cambodia

Lately I’ve been focusing on the bands from Cullinan, Daveyton, and Dobsonville, all in the Johannesburg/Pretoria area. I usually work with the drummers for about an hour and then observe the full band rehearsal to see how things are coming along. I’m happy to say that I’m seeing some nice progress all around. The national championships are just two months away, so attendance is improving and things are getting a bit more serious as everyone prepares for the competition.

I’ve included some clips from a recent rehearsal in Cullinan in the video below. It features a drum cadence I’ve been working on with my students and some footage from their full band rehearsal as well. Keep an eye out for my friend and colleague, Thomas, as he makes his debut “lemon curry” cameo. Thomas also taught the drummers in Cullinan for several months as part of the Norwegian Peace Corps program that assists the Field Band Foundation. Sadly, the six Norwegians from the group just went back home and the next group won’t arrive until October, so I will be without Norwegian buddies for a while.

Also included in the video are some clips from a recent performance I organized for my students from Cullinan. The Public Affairs Officer from the US Consulate in Johannesburg asked me if I could put a presentation together about my work for a group of American teachers traveling through the country. So, I assembled some videos for a short seminar and got the guys from Cullinan to come to Soweto (the biggest township in South Africa) to perform for the group. The clips feature some of the warm-ups and cadences I’ve been teaching them as well as a segment from their drum solo from last year’s championships. I hope you will be as impressed with them as I am. They are really coming along! We’re going to be putting this year’s solo together over the next few weeks, which should be a lot of fun. That’s when they get to use all of the fancy stick tricks and showy movements, like in the movie, Drumline. I will surely have a post about it once we get a little closer to the championships.

In other news, I am working on a video on the Field Band tour to Norway, which I attended several weeks ago. It was an absolutely incredible experience and I hope the video will do it justice. Look out for a post in the next couple of weeks. I’m also working on some songs for an album I’m going to be recording with a musician friend I met here several months ago, named Bham. The idea is to combine African styles with rock drumming and other international flavors. Hopefully it will be finished by November. I’m also planning some big trips for the coming months. I’m going to Zimbabwe next week and will be traveling to several other southern African countries in October/November. I’ve also got tentative plans to go to Tanzania and the Republic of the Congo. We’ll see how that all pans out. In the meantime, check out the video below and let me know what you think. My blog is now open for commenting, so please comment!

I often miss the excitement of travel and the many variables of a more fast-paced life. Before moving to Joburg, my life was far from predicable. At college, there was always something new going on and the idea of having regular sleep or time for “slow and steady” development was out of the question. After college, I traveled for several months and then, when I first moved to South Africa in September, I spent over a month traveling and visiting the field bands around the country.

So, I have some mixed feelings about my new “normal” life. But, I’ve managed to plan a few trips over the coming months that should hopefully balance the competing interests of the fixed lifestyle I seem to need and the adventurous lifestyle I love. The first of my excursions came a few weeks ago when my parents came to South Africa to visit me.

It was really exciting to have them here. It’s rare that you get to show your folks a place that is intimately familiar to you, but which they have never seen before. My goal for the trip was to show them the absolute highlights of the country and it turned out to be one of the greatest trips of my life and a very special experience for my parents as well. They are already planning to come back in October!

The trip really did put things in perspective for me and gave me a sincere appreciation for the unique and inspiring qualities of this incredible country. The adventure took us around the country, from the game reserves of Mpumalanga, to bustling heart of Soweto, the haunting mountains of the Karoo, and the magnificent coasts of Cape Town.

I tried to balance the trip between natural wonders, cultural highlights, and “down-to-earth” South African experiences. To see the extreme luxury of some of the world’s most sumptuous game lodges without also experiencing the extreme poverty of some of the townships, would be a one-sided approach to touring South Africa. Likewise, a visit to the high-strung economic capital of Johannesburg without a trip to the laid-back and cosmopolitan city of Cape Town, would create an incomplete picture of the country.

This balanced approach really made the trip special and it was very refreshing for me to get out of Joburg for a bit and appreciate South Africa as a whole.

Please check out the slide show I’ve put together from the trip. I tried to cover a good amount of detail in my captions, but feel free to send me a message if you have any comments or questions.

Ok, so I’m going to let you all in on a little secret…For the past few months I’ve been working on producing a documentary, currently entitled CONTRA CORRIENTE, based on my research! Surprised, right? Well, I’ve been wrestling with the idea of producing a documentary long before I left for Panama. Last summer, I interned with a Colombian Television/Documentary producer (and Spanish Reggae enthusiast) who taught me the fundamentals of production (and gave me some valuable contacts for my research). He was confident that a documentary about Spanish Reggae would be very marketable. (Remember the success of Boy Wonder’s documentary about Reggaeton, Chosen Few, released in 2004?) The only problem is the funds allotted for my research don’t exactly cover producing a feature-length film…So, initially I was very hesitant to devote myself to this very difficult endeavor. However, I believe that a documentary film would be the best way to actually do something with my research. Not only is film a very powerful medium, but it’s widely accessible for many people. For me, it’s not enough that I have all of this knowledge about this fascinating musical form. I need to share my knowledge with others! So I’ve decided to give it a shot.

As part of my strategy to attract sponsors for my project, the US Embassy procured an interview with ELLAS, a weekly women’s magazine that is distributed with Panama’s leading newspaper La Prensa. Although I told only two people that I was going to be featured in the magazine, most of my Panamanian friends/acquaintances saw the article and congratulated me. I was even recognized by a salesperson who works at GUESS! I admit I rather enjoyed my 15 seconds of fame!

Below is my translation of the article. The interview was conducted entirely in Spanish. I was a little nervous about speaking in Spanish so early in the morning (8:00AM!), but I think the interview went well. You can find the original article online HERE.

In the cradle of Spanish Reggae

Fulbright and mtvU created a scholarship to study the power of music, and the only woman out of the four who were selected is in Panama. Larnies Bowen is conducting an academic study and documentary about “el reggaeton.”

by Vannie Arrocha

How did you win this scholarship?

Over 100 students applied for this new grant offered by the Fulbright Program and mtvU. I created a proposal to use Reggae music to study identity in the community of West Indian descendants who came to Panama for the construction of the Canal.

What did you study in college?

I received my B.A. in Caribbean Studies* from New York University. My research about Spanish Reggae is part of my post-graduate studies.

*(The official title of my concentration is Deconstructing National Identity in the Hispanophone Caribbean. But for the purposes of this interview, I said Caribbean Studies because it’s simpler.)

How did you become interested in researching Reggae music in Panama?

I’m originally from Washington DC, but I studied in New York where they listen to a lot of Reggaeton. A friend told me that Reggaeton originated in Panama. I wasn’t aware of this. I thought this music was Puerto Rican. So I decided to investigate and I realized that Reggaeton does have some roots in Panama.

What is Contra Corriente?

Contra Corriente will be a feature length documentary about the beginning of Spanish Reggae in Panama. With my documentary, I am trying to promote a positive image of the genre, so that people will understand that it’s not all about violence, sex, and drugs. It’s also a music about protest and self expression.

Which artists have you interviewed?

Chich Man, Renato, Rene Renegado, Ness, Kafu Banton, Suppose, Aldo Ranks, La Factoria, DJ Black, Principal, Killa Ranks, Bakan, and Almirante. I still have others I plan to interview.

Your favorite interview?

Until now, Chicho Man (Jeffrey Donaldson). He’s dedicated his life to God now and he says that he wants to inspire the youth so that they don’t become involved in gangs. He is very intelligent. During our interview, he spoke about his West Indian heritage, history, and identity and how reggae serves as a means of expression for people from the “barrio.” I simply asked him one question and he expounded on all of these themes. It was incredible.

Who is your favorite “reguesero?”

El Roockie is one of my favorite artists. He has a more romantic style. He speaks about God in many of his songs. My favorite song is “Nos ama tanto” (He loves us so much) which he sings with [Jamaican Reggae artist] Anthony B. El Roockie is a more conscious artist, and although he doesn’t speak about “guns,” he still sells.

Will we see Contra Corriente on the screens of MTV?

I hope so. It depends on the [financial] support of the Panamanians….

Let’s do the math: if you can relate to the following entry, then I guess we have something in common. If not, do not feel left out. I still love you like my brother, sisters, father, mother– like my family.

Here are some random things to think about when you are sitting there thinking about your life, how far you have traveled, how much you have accomplished, and how there are those the things that you wish you had done less of.

1. Khmer people love to go the park (if you grew up in America and are remotely Khmer, then you know what I am talking about). We go to the park whenever it is hot and treat it like a family gathering: Always looking to buy those small, dirty clams and eat them at home with tamarind garlic sauce. If not, then we’re probably buying bok-la-hung from the Laos lady instead of the Khmer lady, because the Laos lady makes her homemade crab sauce spicier. When done with the bok-la hung, and looking for something else to eat, we head for the grilled chicken or beef (never touching the grilled fish because we know better. It was probably caught in the same lake we remember jumping and swimming in when we were young). Then our sweet tooth takes hold… and either we get some of that pink or green sweet drink stuff mixed with ice (that makes your teeth rot), reserving the coffee flavor drink stuff for the old folks or, head for the Khmer dessert: the green noodles with sugar and coconut syrup (we enjoy the latter the older we get). The whole day, aside from eating, is spent hoping to go home–when will your parents get tired from all the gossiping and card playing?– as we down our third bag of that green stuff. Just waiting… until the dust suffocates our lungs and observing the day slowly pass by from the light off the grass. And when we return back home, we sometimes forget to shower and just go to sleep. This cycles less and less, every week as one gets older and no longer are we willing to be stuffed into the family minivan–the same one that your dad use to drive to work, opting instead to stay home or, go somewhere else with our own car. And if we “choose” to go to the park, it will only be every once in a while, and we think back to our memories formed there.

2. Khmer people love roadside plants. In fact, we can probably eat everything and anything that grows out of the ground. If you can salt it, sugar it, pickle it–Khmer style– you can eat it. Mild diarrhea is not problem. We will just get a rub of white monkey tiger balm on our bellies and walk it off. And we knew better than to eat that unknown plant growing on the highway, but when it is next to that pra-hok or duk-krung, we can’t help ourselves. Remember how we didn’t like to eat Khmer food growing up? How we longed for hamburgers, hotdogs, and pizza, because that was more American and more in line with what we saw on T.V. (like when we saw them eat turkey and other American cuisine at their family gatherings, a la FULL HOUSE with Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen)! But now, we eat Khmer food with vicious ambition. But I digress…Going back then, to the Khmer people and plants, we don’t even know the plant’s name, only it’s location on the highway or, on the grounds of the shopping mall. And of course, there are other identifiers: what “could” be eaten is given a prefix of year and number identification. So that when something new becomes edible, the species discovered in that year will be called by plant year (2008) and then number of discovery (#1), so that there is no confusion. Plants discovered since the last follow the pattern until the end of that qualifying year. The information is passed to the community and soon the plant, its location, shape, taste, and cooking method is public information. In no time, the plant species becomes extinct because everyone will have stripped that sucker down to the bone (The same thing that happened to that crab apple tree and what’s happening to plant 1985 #01. 1985 #01 grows near the airport, is long and stringy, and is pickled and eaten with grilled fish). Yum.

3. Khmer people love their music, I will say it again; KHMER PEOPLE LOVE THEIR MUSIC. Growing up and going on family trips to the park, in the family first car (which was a wagon of some kind with un-tinted windows so other people saw the whole family stuffed into the Japanese vehicle), or going on trips to pick plant 1995 #56, we listened to that strange Khmer music with the language that we did not understand. We would have preferred to take those tapes, toss them out the window, or hide them from mom and dad before getting in the car. To really breaking our parents’ hearts, the night before a trip, we would record the top 10 countdown from the radio over the classic Khmer tape, so that in the middle of a Sin Si Samuth song, 2Pac or Bone Thugs and Harmony screaming “THUG LIFE!!!” or “It’s Da First of Da Month” respectively, could be heard loud and clear. And how our parents wondered if something was wrong with the stereo?! Being the smart one in the family, we would exercise our American education and reply that “nothing is wrong and that is how the stereo works.” Telling your parents that they do not know technology as well as we do because we are now officially American (having spent 9am to 3pm in a western educational setting on a daily basis and since we no longer associate ourselves as Khmer). But as much as you tried to erase those words of Sin Si Samouth, Pen Rom, Srey Sros Sothear, Ing Nary, Meas Samorn from those tapes, those words still stuck inside your mind. And even though you cannot sing along, you listen along and you learned. These songs slowly crept into our minds as we got older, and now we wish we didn’t erase all of those treasures. We no longer want to be American. We want to be Khmer. So we started thinking about every possible way to repent what we did in our youth. We started looking on the Internet for places to download (and if you are feeling guilty, places to purchase) the Khmer songs you used to hate. Until you discover Napster and then, boom!!!! We’ve got a whole, newly-refreshed Khmer musical library. We start playing the music every single day, and our parents are so proud that we like the things they cherish. That is, until they are tired of hearing the same stupid song over and over again. Now they are getting tired of us and our songs. They would prefer to listen to rap instead of the constant annoyance of Khmer music blaring 24/7. All of our friends think that we are crazy but we know that we are not. With the Khmer flag in our rooms, and all those Angkor Wat T-shirts we bought off eBay, we feel like the saviors of Khmer culture– popping our Khmer bangers in, bopping our heads, and rolling down the Khmer strip of our cities in our 1995 civics.

Then we hit a roadblock in our lives. We are older now and have seen how much of our lives are Khmer and not really Cambodian. We think about our need to go to Cambodia and see what Cambodia is like. So we dream about all the things in our hearts, about the country our parents left behind. But then when we look at our demeanor and mannerisms, we can see that we are far from being Cambodian, Cambodian/American, and far from being American. Holding that American passport in hand, we start to become unsure about who we really are. Then our identities come back to us in questions needing answers. We take that passport, get on a plane, somehow with whatever means, and fly to what we think is our motherland. We take a good look back at America and silently ask ourselves, “Who am I?” (often afraid to ask loudly because we are so proud to be survivors in America). Trying to find our histories, we got years of knowing how bad our days growing up American was instead of counting the contrary. Trying not to feel defeated by society, we wish that the country that we most feel connects us (the motherland), will help us discover our heritage and overcome the cowardice of ignorance from years of not knowing our story.

We arrive to taste the fresh air that is Cambodia, only to be choked by the dust and exhaust from the traffic there. We spend ten months avoiding being hit by motos, or being run over by Lexus and Land cruisers with RCAF and Government green license plates. We sit in places of solitude only to be disturbed by the “Beautiful Girls” ringtone. We hear people talking about how much their land is worth now, while their bodyguards sport AK-47s (They are nothing without their bodyguards we think, because their body flows blood like everybody else… and they breathe the same pollution as you). We sit there and think about how we have spent our lives trying to figure out how to win in this world and knowing full well that we are only playing with ourselves. Then we feel discouraged that more and more, Cambodians abroad reveal themselves by not appreciating their brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters who came from back home. We think about our gifts and talents and the hope we can give back to the place inside our hearts. Yet we only see the corruption that happens everywhere, replacing the light with the darkness, and we refuse to think that this is only a Cambodian problem. Then we hope for it to be over, and start counting the days until we come back home. We have given up on Cambodia and now know who we are. We are Khmer, more Khmer that we have understood. We are not Cambodian– Cambodians are people who live in Cambodia, there is no Cambodian living where we came from. We are just Khmer kids who grew up with Khmer experiences somewhere else… So how many more days ’til I go?

I am counting less than 100 and all I gave Cambodia is six kilos of my body. So in the meantime, I spend some better days watching old people exercise in unison at the Olympic stadium. That is how I manage my time amidst the problems, even though I lost 6 kilos since I got here. I wish I still had the motivation to dance with the people in the video but, I feel it better to share their smiles from behind my camera.

Click here to email Phally with your questions or comments

The views and information presented are the Fulbright grantee’s own and do not represent the Fulbright Program or the U.S. Department of State.

So with the string of bad luck running in my life, it only seems fair that a water blessing be in store. Not only was it a fun way to get naked but it was also fun for the monk to extract his anger upon an unexpected evildoer like myself. I swear, with every water splash onto my backside, it was almost like I was preparing for a haymaker or something. With every throw, my folded hands reacted… Look at my face, even laughter and humor couldn’t save me from that monk.

Well, all things considered, I guess I was deserving of my blessing. I mean, there is no other (or better) time to ever see me robed in a monk’s dressing gown. So with all “prep-ness,” shot by my friend Mongkol, I bring you Phally’s attempt for good luck and fortune in his future endeavors.

Click here to email Phally with your questions or comments

The views and information presented are the Fulbright grantee’s own and do not represent the Fulbright Program or the U.S. Department of State.