by James Collins
Before I came to South Africa, I sent a very naïve email to the CEO of the Field Band Foundation enquiring about the nature of their “facilities” in the townships. The reply I got back simply said, “Hi Jimmy…We have no facilities in the townships. Field Bands = fields I’m afraid.” Though this fact became clear to me when I began working with the bands in September, I suppose it never really hit home until a few days ago…
I was teaching in Cullinan and had just finished my usual warm-ups with the drummers. We started working on a new drum solo, but after a few minutes, I heard something hit the ground next to me. I looked briefly at what seemed like a small piece of glass lying there and turned back to continue my lesson, only to find a cluster of very shocked faces staring at me. Boy then screamed “ICE ROCK!!” and within seconds they were all gone.
I stood there for a moment trying to make sense of what had just happened. Where did they go? Had there been some sort of cultural misunderstanding? Or perhaps there was some danger I wasn’t seeing? Then another piece of “glass” hit the ground. Then a few more fell and it finally hit me that “ice rock” = hail!
I looked back at the field band truck and saw some kids frantically trying to get the instruments packed away. Only a few brave souls had stayed behind to save the instruments; the rest had fled for shelter. I listened for a moment to the surreal sound of hail beating against the drums and then ran to help.
I managed to find a hat and a plastic bag to put on my head. Others found umbrellas and most notably, Sello and Boy were shielding themselves with a set of plastic chairs they had found by the truck. Meanwhile, four kids had formed a pseudo assembly line inside the truck, trying to get everything in before it was too late. Then all hell broke loose outside as heavy rain and some very serious lightening began to mix with the hail.
The “assembly line” didn’t prove to be very effective and those of us standing outside of the truck wound up getting completely soaked as we waited to pass the instruments inside. It was a total mess. But, somehow, the initial shock and panic gradually turned to laughter and smiles as we stopped caring about the weather and began to enjoy this very strange experience we were having together. The hail had mostly given way to torrential rain by that point and everyone had already gotten so wet that it seemed pointless to worry about it. The instruments would have to wait until the assembly line was ready for them. And finally, after a few more soggy minutes, everything was safely inside the truck.
With our mission accomplished, a bunch of kids jumped into my car and I turned on the heater at full blast to the delight of more than a few shivering bodies. Then I drove them home and made the hour-long journey back to my apartment in Johannesburg feeling like I had just stepped out of a swimming pool. Yes, Field Bands most definitely = fields.
The hail begins and a few remain to save the instruments.
The assembly line forms inside the truck.
A very wet marimba makes its way into the truck.
Sello and Boy shield themselves with plastic chairs.
Panic gives way to laughter.
How did my camera survive all this?
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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.
