by Janiece Petersen
In late 1998, I was fortunate to be able to travel with a People-to-People International expedition to South Africa, and Victoria Falls in the country of Zimbabwe. When I received an invitation to participate in the two-week excursion which planned to tour various facilities for people who are blind in these African countries, I jumped at the chance — and then stepped back! Looking at the financial investment (even though it would be tax-deductible) certainly gave me pause! Then came the opportunity to apply to ACB for a grant set aside for someone who would be a responsible delegate. I wrote my letter, explaining that I am a teacher of children who are visually impaired, a lover of knowledge and adventure, and a member of ACB. I sent my first installment to hold my reservation, held my breath, and waited! I held onto my hopes and planned well in advance, but the good news still came as a wonderful surprise: It was a time to celebrate, read up, and explore resources.
Art: A Window to Cultural Understanding
Many facets of the journey are interesting stories for future telling. One of my personal high points was what I discovered about art. Each culture has its unique forms, manners and materials even colors. Art awakens us to how many ways there are to express that which is most beautiful and personal in our surroundings and lives. In an essay on art, Maya Angelou says, “I believe that art encourages us to stand erect and stretch upward toward the higher ground. ... Without the presence and energy of art in our lives, we are capable of engaging in heartless activities without remorse and cruelties with a clear conscience.”
In many schools and facilities that we visited, the bulletin boards and displays overflowed with flowers and art created by the children. Except for the most impoverished schools, each campus had a garden which provided opportunities to explore, and generate art from models in nature. South Africa’s vivid colors, especially oranges and purples, were everywhere in abundance.
There were many crafts in the schools and training facilities, including basketry, wood working, weaving with yarn, knitting and chair caning. Although I considered these creations to be crafts rather than examples of fine art, since they were basically repetitive, and the students were not asked to be original, still, they were reflections of cultural energy and values. Several facilities had actual sales room outlets for these items and made significant money in local markets.
Mask-making not included in the curriculum
The making of masks as well as wood and stone sculpture figure prominently in African art. Therefore, it was a surprise to discover that these art forms were not taught in the facilities that we visited. I was able to examine everything from simple soapstone sculpture and wood carvings to elaborate stone creations in the marketplaces of South Africa and Zimbabwe. These intrigued me so much that a few small treasures did find their way into my luggage.
Ah — The Music!
Although the music in many of the South African restaurants and hotels was all too standard and commercial, the music I discovered in Zimbabwe took my breath away! In Victoria Falls, we were serenaded on two consecutive nights by mixed a capella groups, and we even got to contribute our voices to “Wimoweh.” But it was in the schools where the music had many stories to tell.
The first school on our itinerary was called Prinzof, and was for younger children. There, we were treated to a performance by the junior choir, made up of children ranging from eight to 12. One youth with a young professional voice like Stevie Wonder’s sang his solo and then put his arm around a younger singer who shared the melody on the next chorus. This group sang in Zulu, Afrikaans and English. The “Train Song,” not in a language we knew, was fun because we could tell, without being told, that it was about a train. When the children sang “Wimoweh,” they also danced, some barefoot, some with shoes. As one shoe came in contact with a bare toe, the second dancer adjusted to avoid more pain, and another youngster or two joined in with drums. The children's enjoyment and enthusiasm radiated from their entire beings faces, voices, and movements. They were truly at home with their art.
The next day, we were in a rural school called Sibonile. Although the school was already bursting at the seams with visually impaired children, sighted students from a nearby school which had been condemned had been assigned to the auditorium/cafeteria.
With the sun-heated asphalt of the playground as their performance space, they sang to an audience standing on a porch. I held my microphone as far out over the railing as my arm would extend. My recording caught their three-part harmonies — some less than traditional — and rhythms that still elude my American counting, although the group was completely in sync. They sang in Zulu and Xhosa. The chorus combined the gentle voices of young children and the more mature voices of a few older students whose education had started later than six to seven, when they were able to take advantage of an opportunity for learning at Sibonile School. These singers conveyed an earnest quality and tightly knit teamwork in the overlapping call-and-response style. Not as playful in mood, this music conveyed the strong emotions of the singers, their pride in their school, and the power that their combined voices generated.
In a third school called Pioneer, the senior choir had made a CD, which each of us received as a gift. Sadly, I must tell you that, since our return, the music director has moved on and will not be replaced because of funding priorities. Now no choir exists, and our CD captures an artistic expression that does not still exist at the school.
We met an eighth grader at this school whose name was Jeanise (spelled a bit differently from my name, but pronounced the same way); she told me that what she liked most was playing the piano and singing. She and another young girl sang a duet for us which they planned to perform later in recital. The brief a capella song was a true blend and involved poise, musicianship and a charming pride in their talent. We could hear the sounds of piano instruction, as the notes of a lesson in progress wafted through open windows during our walk through the flower-planted campus.
In the final school we visited, we heard the preschoolers from an adjoining room. There was the child who kept the rhythm after the music had stopped and another singing to herself as we came in. In the music teacher’s studio were three children. The chief drummer’s multiple disabilities were evidenced by his gait, his desk work, food handling, and other daily living skills. But when he played the drums, he was completely natural and very able. Another smaller boy insisted on manipulating the bass drum pedals with his hands, while a third youngster played full-blown two-handed chords on a synthesizer — not programmed chords, but accurate harmonies from four to eight voices at a time. And they all sang — I’m not sure what else, but I know they did go into “Wimoweh.”
Later, another staff person led a group playing steel drums, while the music teacher led a group of drums and brass players in the courtyard. Oh yes, the kindergartners have a special teacher who engages them in precise, rhythmic body movements, as well as free-form personal expression.
Along the way, while some children were on tea break, we saw a piano, and I played a little of a children’s song I had written. The children’s faces showed their wonder at who was playing, and then they just started clapping and moving to the beat. I must also mention that this is the only school that has Cakewalk or any other music program on a computer; but they need a speech program to make it accessible to their students.
Some of you are probably deducing the same concepts that I re-discovered during my travels in South Africa and Zimbabwe — about the timeless and indisputable importance of art and music, and how all our lives are made the richer when they are encouraged. In the schools we visited, the children took their education seriously, but their participation in music and other arts brought special rewards and a sense of accomplishment to many. Science can verify some affinities between the development of a “musical ear” and loss of vision, but one only needs to be present to view the art and hear the music, to recognize a special kind of fulfillment for people who are visually impaired which is transmitted through the arts, and which knows no cultural boundaries.