South African President Jacob Zuma with Maskandi artist Khuzani during the 6th Annual Matomela celebrations, 8 Oct 2016. Credit: GCIS/cc by 2.0

By Mxolisi Ncube
JOHANNESBURG, South Africa, Nov 28 2017 (IPS)

The crowd in the park gave out roars of approval as the next act was announced:  Mothusi Bashimane Ndlovu, one of Zimbabwe’s most popular singers and actors, who took to the stage with a small axe in hand.

It’s the trademark prop of his most famous role, Madlela Skhobokhobo: a Zimbabwean migrant struggling to make it in South Africa. The hearty artist, who now lives in Johannesburg, sent the crowd at Alec Gorschel Park in Hillbrow, Johannesburg, into a frenzy as he belted out one of his comical hits, “Bheyapeya.”"During our shows, attended by both locals and migrants, we preach messages of tolerance. The idea is to build one Africa based on love and unity." --Mcasiseli Gwaza-Gwaza of Bayethe Music

Bashimane was one of many migrant performers spicing up Johannesburg’s Heritage Day celebrations in September, organized each year by Inqama, a wholly Zimbabwean youth cultural group headquartered in Johannesburg.

It was a social cohesion event, of sorts: nine years after South Africa experienced what was arguably its worst xenophobic violence, in which at least 62 people died, thousands were displaced and property worth millions of rands was either looted or destroyed during the attacks in May 2008. Attacks have taken place in several flare-ups since.

But the feel of events like the Heritage Day celebration reflects the attempts by average people on the ground to try and tame the scourge of xenophobia and foster social cohesion between locals and migrants.

While it has largely been seen as the duty of government officials and non-governmental organisations to bring migrants and locals together in peace-building initiatives, these promoters and musicians have seized the initiative. Operating on a low or zero budget, they have held musical shows, built inter-country fan bases for musicians, held inter-country tours, initiated collaborations and brought together some traditional, political and community leaders from the two countries.

There are 2.1 million migrants in South Africa, according to the 2011 census — about 4 percent of the “Rainbow Nation’s” population.

During a regional integration and migration trends briefings in 2015, the International Organisation for Migration (IOM) said these were a result of push factors that facilitated migration included lax border control, the long and porous borders, internal conflict and dysfunctional governments. Factors that exacerbated regional migration included trafficking in persons, smuggling drugs, arms and money laundering. Poverty was identified as a major push factor.

The largest percentage of migrants in South Africa are said to be Zimbabweans, many of whom are fleeing economic crisis and political repression.

It therefore comes as no surprise that Zimbabwean musicians and music promoters are always at the forefront of organising shows of this nature.

“We have seen it as imperative for locals and migrants to come together in celebratory events, which will build familiarity among different nationals and bring them closer to one another,” said Mcasiseli Gwaza-Gwaza of Bayethe Music, a fledgling music promotions company.

“Usually, xenophobia flares because of problems that affect ordinary South Africans, who then vent their anger on foreigners because they somehow believe migrants are the principal cause of their suffering. During our shows, attended by both locals and migrants, we preach messages of tolerance. The idea is to build one Africa based on love and unity. We therefore, believe it is our duty as promoters to use music to achieve that goal.”

Bayethe Music is just one of the many migrant-owned companies whose activities have brought together Zimbabwean and South African musicians in collaborative work. As a result, more than 20 collaboration songs and a number of festivals have been held by musicians from the two countries.

“Our main aim is to foster grassroots co-operation as a way to achieve social cohesion,” adds Gwaza-Gwaza. “Our events, which pull huge crowds comprising both locals and migrants. We also invite community leaders, politicians and traditional leaders from all over Africa to come and give messages themed around the spirit of Ubuntu (humanity).”

Their efforts are bearing fruit. A number of migrant Zimbabwean musicians are now being recognised by South African promoters, with Zimbabwean maskandi (Zulu traditional music) singers like Zinjaziyamluma, Amabhukudwana, Amachwane Amahle and Insukamini among those that have been a permanent fixture at musical shows previously reserved for South Africans.

As fans continue to warm up to inter-country relations, popular South African maskandi musicians like Igcokama Elisha and Khuzani Mpungose now have Zimbabwean chapters of fans dedicated to them.

“I have enjoyed friendship with many Zimbabwean maskandi singers based in South Africa and received a lot of support from music fans from that country,” said Manqele recently.

“This kind of co-operation has helped us bridge the divide between South Africans and migrants and most music fans are now as united as we wished when we first started this journey,” said Zinjaziyamluma’s manager, Mlungisi Tshabalala. “Both sets of musicians have been able to preach peace to their fans across nationalities.”

Zinjaziyamluma has collaborated with an array of South African acts that include Bonakele Myeza, Mlethwa Majola, Sebedlile Ntshangase, Kaptein, Khandalenja, Zanefa Ngidi, Mshovo and Gearbox Mtshali. Most of the songs preach the need for Africans to unite.

“We have also made great progress as Zinjaziyamluma, having had four branches of our South African fans established in Mnambithi, KwaNongoma, Ethekwini and Mhlathuze, in the KwaZulu-Natal province. We have also taken some of the South African musicians we work with to Zimbabwe every December and this has helped a great deal in fostering co-operation.”

A crowd outside the Fábrica de Arte, a cultural centre that is managed by singer X-Alfonso and self-financed through its ticket sales, although a large part of the initial investment came from Cuba’s Ministry of Sports. Credit: Jorge Luis Baños/IPS

By Ivet González
HAVANA, Apr 23 2014 (IPS)

Standing in line for a concert at the Centro Cultural Fábrica de Arte, a cultural centre in the Cuban capital, Alexis Cruz anxiously checks his billfold, where he has the price of the ticket – 50 Cuban pesos (two dollars) – and three CUCs (equivalent to one dollar each) to buy something to drink.

“I can rarely attend these things, because they cost one-quarter of my monthly salary of 450 pesos [19 dollars],” the 26-year-old lawyer tells IPS. “But all prices are this high or higher, and at least here I can hear good music.”

The shortage of attractive, affordable entertainment and cultural events is becoming a problem in Cuba, where 20 dollars is the average monthly salary paid by the state – which still employs about 80 percent of the workforce, despite efforts to pare down the government payroll.

As family budgets have shrunk in a crisis that has dragged on for over two decades, it is nearly impossible for most to afford the steep entrance price at the new discotheques and clubs that have begun to liven up Cuba’s nightlife since economic reforms began to be introduced in 2008, opening up more space for private enterprise.

Since then, differences in socioeconomic levels have become more pronounced.

While Havana’s emerging elite are entertained in the glamorous private bars of upscale neighbourhoods like Vedado, Miramar and Playa, there are few options for the rest of society.

Although Cuba has nearly 300 cinemas, 361 theatres, 267 museums and 118 art galleries where programming is financed by the state and ticket prices are subsidised, the installations are increasingly run-down, the quality is irregular, the schedules are inflexible and the publicity is inadequate.

“If I want to go out and dance at a nice place, I save up for a month or two, which I am able to do thanks to my mom, who brings in almost all of the income in our household from cooking sweets for a private cafeteria,” says Jorge Mario Rodríguez, 24, who lives in the poor suburb of El Palmar.

Like other young people, Rodríguez, who works as a bill collector for the state-run Empresa Eléctrica power company, likes reggaeton, pop and salsa. But he does not frequently go to concerts, the theatre or the movies.

“Those places are downtown, and transportation is really bad,” he says. “When there isn’t a party at some friend’s house, I try to stay home watching series or movies on DVDs.”

Besides the programming of the five government TV channels, there is an informal alternative network that offers the latest international series and movies.

The network includes shops where people can rent and copy movies, TV series and music, and stalls that sell pirate copies of albums – businesses that have been legal since 2010, when the government expanded the number of areas where private enterprise is allowed.

Very popular is what is known as “the package of the week”, which weighs one terabyte and includes the latest series, soap operas, movies, documentaries, cartoons, videoclips, reality shows, music, software, antivirus updates, language courses, magazines and many other things – all for 50 pesos (two dollars).

Every Tuesday, Laudelina Rodríguez’s living room is packed with people copying portions of the “package” onto USB drives. Paying between five and 20 Cuban pesos, customers take home up to eight gigabytes of widely varying content.

Rodríguez, an officially registered “cuentapropista” or self-employed worker, distributes some 600 gigabytes and three or four complete “packages” a week to her roughly 300 clients in the Cerro neighbourhood. She says 65 percent of her customers are under 30 years of age.

“Most in demand are the ‘narconovelas’ [soap operas about the world of drug trafficking] and Mexican ‘telenovelas’ [soap operas], followed by series from the United States and reality talent shows like ‘La Voz Kids’ and ‘Nuestra Belleza Latina’,” Rodríguez tells IPS.

“They also like Cuban films and comedy shows. But national programming is almost never included, maybe because no one wants to have copyright problems,” she says.

Intellectuals are scandalised by this kind of cultural consumption in Cuba, whose socialist government has tried for 50 years to build “the new man”, guided by values that differ from those of Western capitalism.

The Apr. 11-12 congress of the National Union of Cuban Writers and Artists (UNEAC) called for efforts to combat the increasingly banal tastes of the population.

Havana’s International Book Fair is one of the most popular, and lucrative, cultural events in Cuba. Credit: Jorge Luis Baños/IPS

“We have to analyse the ‘package’ so people will understand that they are being cheated,” writer Abel Prieto, a former culture minister, said at one of the televised sessions of the UNEAC congress.

In an interview in the online magazine OnCuba, Prieto, who is now a presidential adviser, acknowledged the state’s responsibility with respect to what he considered the deformation of popular tastes.

He added that the production of entertaining national cultural programming was urgently needed – content that could draw in young people but wasn’t “empty of meaning.”

Those meeting at the congress also called for an easing of longstanding tensions between art and the market, in this socialist country where mass access to culture has been subsidised for decades.

The economic reforms, which reached the world of culture in 2010, eliminated the subsidies, and now artists and institutions have to find ways to become self-financing.

In 2013, the budget for culture, art and sports was reduced by 172 million dollars with respect to the 2012 budget. And only one percent of public spending went to that sector, according to official statistics.

The UNEAC congress proposed evaluating non-state management of cultural projects, such as cooperatives.

But the government tends to react to independent initiatives by adopting restrictions, as illustrated by the closure of privately run film parlours on Nov. 2, on the argument that they had never been authorised.

Although they cost more than the state-run cinemas, in just over a year the film salons had become increasingly popular, offering a broader menu of options in suburban areas.

Ulises Aquino, director of the Ópera de la Calle, which brings together 120 artistes, tried to make the company self-financing with shows in his private restaurant El Cabildo. But the government closed down his restaurant in 2012 over alleged management irregularities.

“We covered our personal expenses and financed our artistic productions,” Aquino tells IPS. “But [the authorities] got scared when international media outlets said I had built an ‘empire’ by improving the living standards of our artistes.”

Without the restaurant, Ópera de la Calle now depends on the budget assigned by the National Council for Performing Arts, which does not cover reparations of equipment, or musical instruments or costumes, and does not cover the cost of lunches and community work.

“Subsidised creations and creators must continue to exist – not due to tradition or name, but because they truly contribute to the spiritual and cultural welfare of the nation,” wrote Elena Estévez in the interactive section of the IPS Cuba website.

Economist Tania García, an expert on culture, tells IPS that subsidising ticket prices to cultural events is an investment in human growth.

In the last five years, the arts accounted for between 4.3 and 4.7 percent of GDP. But to that must be added, according to García, the value of cultural exports as well as taxes on the personal incomes of artists.

After brief and scattered successes, entertainment has gone back into hiding following bomb attacks by the Taliban. Credit: Ashfaq Yusufzai/IPS.

By Ashfaq Yusufzai
PESHAWAR, Pakistan, Apr 13 2014 (IPS)

Mushfiq Wali, a 22-year-old shoemaker in northern Pakistan, loves watching films in the local Pashto language. But he says the Taliban are a killjoy: their bomb attacks have led to the closure of movie theatres, again. “They don’t spare anything that brings happiness.”

The extent of freedom to listen to music and to go to the cinema has become a barometer of the influence of the Taliban, and of just normal living. Music and cinema have been emerging as the language of a challenge to the Taliban, as surely as the Taliban have attacked music.The extent of freedom to listen to music and to go to the cinema has become a barometer for the influence of the Taliban.

“The past five years have been very difficult for musicians because of Taliban militants. Now we are heaving a sigh of relief as acts of terror have gone down,” singer Gul Pana told IPS earlier this year. But the Taliban have hit back.

On Feb. 11, Taliban militants hurled two grenades at Shama Cinema in Peshawar, the capital of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province in the north of Pakistan, killing 15 people. The attack came soon after five people were killed at the Picture House cinema hall in another terror attack on Feb. 2.

“Such incidents are very depressing for people who seek a few moments of leisure after a hard day’s work,” Wali said. “We have no internet, TV or other entertainment facilities at home, so we would go to cinema halls for some happiness.”

Opposition to movies, music and dance has always been a part of the Taliban agenda. They killed Wazir Khan Afridi, a veteran singer who recorded 50 albums, on Feb. 26. Afridi had been kidnapped three times before, but was freed on those occasions on condition he quit singing.

“The Taliban have set fire to over 500 CD and music shops in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa to frighten people and force them to wind up businesses that are against their brand of Islam,” Ghulam Nabi, who seeks to promote culture in the region, told IPS.

The Taliban have many bases in the Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA) in the north bordering Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. They have been targeting music shops and musicians, and believe that music is un-Islamic.

In January 2009, militants had slit the throat of dancer Shabana Begum in Swat, one of the districts of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, and hung her body from an electricity pole. The incident forced other artistes to stay at home or leave the city. Thousands of dancers and musicians fled Swat from 2007 to 2009 when the area was under Taliban rule.

Peshawar used to have 21 cinema houses, each with a capacity of around 200, before the advent of militancy. The city is now left with just 11 movie theatres. Cinema halls are also being closed down in neighbouring Mardan district.

Jehangir Jani, 54, a well-known Pashto film actor, is perturbed. “It is highly condemnable that the Taliban are depriving people of entertainment. I am sure the insurgents will not be able to shut down cinema houses for very long as people cannot live without movies,” he told IPS.

Jani, who is a household name in Pashtun areas, has had to go to Afghanistan many times to film. “In Afghanistan, films are being produced for CDs. Pashtuns have traditionally been film buffs.”

Films in the Pashto language, widely spoken in Afghanistan, are popular in some Pakistani areas as well. “They are watched by people from FATA as well as Afghanistan,” said cine-goer Zahirzada Khan.

Cinema houses are a cheap source of entertainment, he said. “The closure of cinema halls after back-to-back bombings is very upsetting.”

Kashif Shah, manager of a Peshawar cinema hall, said hall owners received letters earlier this year asking them to stop the “shameful trade” of screening movies. “The Taliban warned that they would make an example of us,” Shah said. His hall is now shut.

Shah said the Taliban’s campaign would end up isolating them. “Even their well-wishers have turned against them.”

But the terror threat persists. Police say they don’t have enough personnel to guard cinema halls, and have directed cinema theatres to make their own security arrangements.

“We have told movie hall owners to install cameras and metal detectors at the gates,” senior superintendent of police Najibullah Khan told IPS. “We don’t have enough personnel, but we are ready to train private security guards to prevent such incidents.”

The police have arrested 15-year-old Hasan Khan, who was paid 80 dollars by the Taliban to hurl grenades at the Shama Cinema.

For the time being, Peshawar is going without films.

Jehanzeb Ali, a 35-year-old mechanic from Mardan, told IPS that he used to watch a film every Sunday. “We used to visit Peshawar, watch films and eat out. Now I haven’t seen a movie for a month.”

The cultural challenge to the Taliban had made tentative but isolated advances in recent years. “In the last few years, I have sung more than a dozen songs against the Taliban,” award-wining singer Khyal Muhammad told IPS in 2011. “I got threatening messages on the mobile phone,” he said. “But I will continue to sing because it gives me strength.”

For some time after 2010 it did appear that music and cinema were on a winning track – despite repeated attacks on musicians and music stores. Cinema houses that were closed down began to reopen.

But all along, those in the business have struggled to keep music playing and the show going. “The endless series of bomb attacks on CD and music shops has become the order of the day, but we are undeterred,” Sher Dil Khan, president of the CD and Music Shops Association in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa in the north of Pakistan, told IPS in 2011. “We will continue to produce new dramas and songs.”

The big encouragement came with the elections in 2013 when cricketer turned politician Imran Khan’s Tehreek-e-Insaaf party won the election in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. After the resumption of open sales of music, and the occasional theatre performance, music returned in full swing – in many if not all areas. Now, silence has advanced again.

The Watar band at a performance in Gaza. Credit: Khaled Alashqar/IPS.

By Khaled Alashqar
GAZA CITY , Mar 9 2014 (IPS)

Like almost everyone else in Gaza, these six are angry about the Israeli-imposed blockade and the resulting misery. Except that they are expressing their anger through music – without the music itself sounding angry.

There’s much to say – or sing if you prefer to say it that way. More than a million-and-a-half people in Gaza are living under a tight blockade. Poverty and widespread despair have radically increased as a result.There’s much to say – or sing if you prefer to say it that way. More than a million-and-a-half people in Gaza are living under a tight blockade.

Unemployment is reaching high levels, particularly among graduate students. Dreams of a better and secure future lie shattered in the impoverished territory.

In these difficult circumstances, these six have chosen to sing through their Watar Band; Watar means ‘tune’ in Arabic. The musical six mostly use Western instruments, and sing in Arabic, English and French.

Following the Israeli assault on Gaza in 2009 which led to the deaths of more than 1,400 people and massive destruction, Ala Shoublak, founder and leading member of the band, gathered musician friends to set up the band.

“Everything was destroyed, including schools, roads and buildings, and the only theatre in Gaza that belongs to the Palestinian Red Crescent Society was bombed. We just decided to take our music instruments and sit on top of the destroyed theatre and sing for peace and freedom despite the ugly smell of death all around.”

After that brave start five years back, the band developed further and became more structured. They bought new instruments and began to do public shows.

The group has gradually become well known and attracts many fans, especially among school and university students in Gaza Strip. This is not surprising, because they sing about the hopes and aspirations of youth for a better life, and for a peaceful future free of conflict and siege.

The band has two clear objectives, Ala Shoublak tells IPS: “To resist first the occupation and the blockade through music which delivers messages of peace and freedom, and second, to communicate the hopes of the youth amidst suffering in Gaza to the outside world. That’s why we use English and French in our songs as well.”

The band has recently produced a song called ‘Dawsha’ (meaning ‘noise’ in Arabic) that has become very popular. Many youth come up to sing with the band through such songs.

Media student Mariam Abu-Amer joined the band during a project called ‘Gaza Sings for Freedom and Peace’. “It was a unique and special experience to singe with Watar,” she told IPS. “My participation gave me the opportunity to express my dreams and hopes to my people and to the world as a young woman in Gaza. It also allowed me to encourage female participation in music bands in Gaza as it’s generally limited.”

Despite success, the band lacks the funds and professional support it needs. It’s unable to produce an album because of funding problems.

All along, the group face the fundamental problem that in the political and economic crisis, music is not a priority. The Hamas-led government is focused on urgent humanitarian needs.

Director-General of the Ministry of Culture Mohammed Alaraieer told IPS that the government is trying to “deal with the cultural needs and situation in all forms and encourage artists and culturists to focus on the just cause of Palestine and Israeli occupation, but the ministry is not able to give much assistance because of the blockade and closure.”

Groups like Watar band therefore seek support from international organisations and institutions that are based in Gaza. The French Cultural Centre has allowed the band to use its premises for workshops and to host concerts. It also has also connected them with European bands, and organised a cultural tour to France and other countries in Europe.

The Edward Said National Institute of Music is the only place in Gaza that teaches music and provides professional training. Until recently it had only a small a number of students attending classes, but the numbers increased following Watar’s success in finding international audiences.

Director of the Institute Ibrahim Al-Najar told IPS that the Watar band’s “education and good command of international languages and excellent use of social media allow them to develop their skills and present their work globally. They put on wonderful performances and deserve to be supported.” But, he said, that success only “represents individual efforts.”

But the success is in part a result of the very difficulties Gazans face. “The youth are generally ambitious and hopeful, and success comes also out of suffering, and this is what motivated Watar band to form and attempt to reach international audiences, especially given that the political circumstances here have cut the world off from the people of Gaza,” Prof. Fadil Abu-Hein, who teaches psychology and sociology at Al-Aqsa University in Gaza told IPS.

Periodic instances of using the arts to express resistance and anguish have been arising in Gaza. Last year Mohammed Assaf from Gaza won the Arab Idol contest. Many who cannot fight the blockade fight it their own way through music and the arts.

A singing performance in Peshawar that would have been unthinkable under Taliban dominance earlier. Credit: Ashfaq Yusufzai/IPS.

By Ashfaq Yusufzai
PESHAWAR, Pakistan, Jan 15 2014 (IPS)

For many years they could not sing, dance or play their favourite instruments. The performing artists of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province of northern Pakistan lost their voice as the Taliban carried out terror attacks and banned music, calling it un-Islamic. But after tentative advances in recent months, the Pakistani province is alive with the sound of music once again.

After the resumption of open sales of music, and the occasional theatre performance, music is now back in business in full swing – in many if not all areas. The big change has come in the months following elections in May 2013.

“The past five years have been very difficult for musicians because of Taliban militants. Now we are heaving a sigh of relief as acts of terror have gone down,” singer Gul Pana told IPS.“Thanks to a new government, the majority of singers and instrumentalists have returned to work." -- singer Gul Pana

The region’s Pakhtun people were traditionally fond of music. But from 2008 to 2013 musicians faced a hard time as the province was under the rule of the anti-Taliban Awami National Party (ANP), and militants carried out explosions and suicide strikes. The Taliban stopped musicians from holding programmes.

With the Taliban’s influence waning in the region and the new provincial government actively encouraging artists since it came to power, music is making a comeback.

“Thanks to a new government, the majority of singers and instrumentalists have returned to work,” said Pana, who is a student at the University of Peshawar, but is busy performing at concerts and marriages and doing playback songs in films.

Swat, a district in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, was once known for its singers and dancers. The scenic, mountainous region has many streams and rivers that were used as a backdrop for film songs. But the area ran out of artists from 2007 to 2010 because of the punishments handed out by the Taliban.

In January 2009, Taliban militants killed well-known dancer Shabana in Swat, sending a chill down the spine of the performing arts fraternity. Many fled or quit their profession altogether to avoid being targeted by the Taliban.

But music can be heard in the hills and valleys of Swat today. The Taliban were evicted from Swat through a military operation in 2010.

“We are back. Every night, there are musical functions that provide entertainment to locals as well as enthusiasts from the rest of the country,” said Muhammad Suleiman, a harmonium player in Swat.

Suleiman says his two dancer daughters were the only breadwinners in his 12-member family but, during Taliban rule, it became hard to have two square meals a day.

His 18-year-old daughter Noreen Begum said, “Now we are again receiving offers to perform at marriage ceremonies.”

She said dancing had always been a passion for her. “I enjoy music and dance. And with what I earn, my two brothers can continue their studies in school,” she said.

Musical performances are also back in Peshawar, the capital of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. After cricketer-turned-politician Imran Khan’s Pakistan Tehreek Insaf (PTI) party came to power at the head of a coalition in the province, the music scene has undergone a transformation.

“People invite us to perform at private programmes and pay us well. Pakhtuns are traditionally fond of music and shower money on performers to show their appreciation,” Shah Sawar, a budding crooner, told IPS.

Sawar, 25, says he recently performed in front of Imran Khan and won praise from him. “It was encouraging to get a pat on the back from Imran Khan.”

Nishtar Hall, the sole theatre in Peshawar, has sprung back to life and from tentative beginnings and now hosts musical functions almost every day.

“We get calls from sponsors every day. Besides local artists, singers from other parts of the country also perform here,” Karam Khan, an official at the government-run Nishtar Hall, told IPS.

Every function at the 600-seat hall draws hundreds of enthusiasts who flock to the venue well before the commencement of a programme, he said.

“Gone are the days when Nishtar Hall used to remain shut due to the Taliban’s threats. The situation is back to normal and cultural activities have gained momentum,” Karam Khan said.

Mashooq Sultan, a yesteryear diva, is also happy with Imran Khan’s party. “He has proved to be a blessing for more than 10,000 performers who had virtually been jobless before this party came to power. It had become difficult for me to provide for my family because there were few musical functions. We appreciate Imran for making the law and order situation better,” she said.

“The last six months have been very good for us. We have performed at Nishtar Hall and at private functions,” Sultan, who claims to have sung 5,000 songs on TV and radio, told IPS.

The Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA) near the Afghan border is still teeming with militants, depriving people there of dance and music. Some parts of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa where the Taliban still has influence can feel the restrictions on music even now.

But Sultan says music cannot be stopped in this part of the world. “Marriages and other festive ceremonies are considered incomplete without music and the Taliban cannot ban it forever.”

The global economic crisis has not hit Serbia for the first time, but this year it has bitten into Serbian culture. State subsidies for theatres, festivals, films and exhibitions have almost hit the bottom. State support for films is down to zero.

The Belgrade Philharmonic Orchestra has under the circumstances made an unprecedented move. Since last month it has been organising donation concerts and dinners in an aim to collect the 1.5 million dollars it needs for a planned first tour of the United States next year.

“The result was spectacular,” director of the philharmonic Ivan Tasovac told IPS in an interview. “We collected 599,860 dollars from major Serbian private companies, international companies with offices here, hundreds of friends abroad and at home, foreign diplomats, as well as ordinary people – students, pensioners. No matter how big or small the sums, they are all so worthy for us.”

The national 11.4-billion-dollar budget provisioned only 0.62 percent this year for some 10,650 institutions of culture.

Culture has traditionally been co-financed by many sponsors such as public enterprises, large companies, big businesses and individual investors. But such investments have been declining over the past few years.

The Belgrade Philharmonic faced cuts in state funds in its 90th year of existence. The ensemble includes 98 musicians, with an average age of 35.

“We then ‘found’ a dusty book on the shelf called ‘Serbian philanthropy’ and used it,” Tasovac said, referring to an old tradition of donations.

A concert on Jun. 7 was conducted by the celebrated Zubin Mehta (77). The Belgrade Philharmonic was one of the first Mehta played with, back in 1956. Mehta helped the philharmonic establish a foundation in the U.S. that will co-finance the tour in 2014, with support also from contributors outside the Balkans.

The concert and another that followed a week later were followed by donors’ dinners in a posh Belgrade restaurant, at 325 dollars a guest. Guests were also invited to make further donations.

“This is the first time in the region that anyone has taken to this form of financing,” Tasovac said. “Most of serious institutions of culture all over the Balkans are in the same situation as we are. We hope we can inspire them to do the same.”

The Serbian Ministry of Culture has faced harsh criticism for weeks now, after it announced its final budgetary allocations.

All funding was withdrawn for the Nishville international jazz festival in the southern Serbian town Nis. The festival has hosted some of the most famous jazz artists for years. The October Salon of Painting dating from early 1960s also failed to get any funding. The international Belgrade theatre festival Bitef saw its funds sliced to half.

“We’ll see theatres closing down, as we saw cinemas die, we’ll have exhibitions in the dark, our museums are on the road to death,” theatre director Milica Kralj told IPS. “We must ask ourselves what our country will look like for our children tomorrow.”

October Salon manager Mia David objected to the criterion the Ministry of Culture adopted for cuts. “Modern creativity is not a priority in Serbia,” she said. “My guess is that the so-called ‘patriotic projects’ have eaten the funds.”

Expensive projects are under way to mark a thousand years of the historic Edict of Milan, when Roman Emperor Constantine I endorsed Christianity as the official religion of the state. The emperor was born in Naissus, today’s city of Nis in Serbia.

“We are a poor country, but we’ll become a country without culture if things continue like this,” film critic Milan Vlajcic told IPS. “Our ministers – except for a handful of them – are completely uncivilised people and go to theatres only if the TV cameras will catch them. Culture means nothing to them.”

But for democracy like Mozambique’s to be robust, it needs artists and critics. Credit: Thembi Mutch/IPS

By Thembi Mutch
MAPUTO, May 27 2013 (IPS)

Mozambique is proud home to not one, but two female rappers who are both qualified lawyers. Yveth “Vauvita” Matunza is striking. She is tall, wearing shoes with enormous stilettos. She has on full make up and a smart, tailored dress suit. She is doing her masters part time while working full time at the Mozambican Human Rights League offices – and rapping on her off time.

There is no contradiction in this for her. And she is keen to move away from the heterogeneous “plastic” sound of American hip hop and rap, and create a sound that is distinctly Mozambican.

The other of Mozambique’s female rappers is Dama Do Bling “Lady of Bling”, who recently appeared on a glossy magazine cover, holding her baby daughter.

Mozambique’s constitution, which is in the process of being revised, is exemplary in many things. It recognises that all citizens have the right to an education, that men and women are equal in all spheres of life, and that all people have the right to freedom of expression and of the press.

But for democracy to be robust, it needs artists and critics, as the late, prominent female musician Lidia Sthembile Udenga Mate, from the all-female band Likute, told IPS in an interview in March, just before her death.

“The artists, the musicians are the most important voices in society. We mock, we hold a mirror, we criticise, we are honest, we celebrate… our role is vital,” she had said.

In 2010 the vibrant Mozambican rapper Azagaia directly named corrupt politicians during the bread riots that shook the country after prices of bread soared. He was harassed and arrested for one night before being released. But his case did not go unnoticed by the international media.

There are others, for example, who in their music also name the people involved in corrupt land deals. Like Matunza, it seems they are part of a new breed of savvy young Mozambicans who are openly “globalised”, who are not afraid, and who use social media and publicity, negative or not, to get people to pay attention to the issues galvanising this southern African country.

Matunza says she was obsessed with music as a kid.“Here there’s so much opportunity to play all kinds of music, a vortex that has opened up… Creatively, anything is possible.” -- Chude Mondlane

“And later issues of justice dominated. I was never even aware that there was a conflict between working as a lawyer in the day, and an MC and rapper at weekends. I am 100 percent Mozambican and proud – critical of our failures, proud of our successes, and I know I can reach the public.

“I rap about things that affect us, men who don’t stick around to look after their kids, human rights abuses and our leaders… I am indirect, I talk in riddles, my concerts are a complete sell out, and, yes, I am famous.”

At only 28 she is focused and sure. Her father, who was a miner in South Africa, brought home the music of Madonna and South African female singers Brenda Fassie and Yvonne Chaka Chaka, which influenced her.

“There’s huge domestic violence here – our culture is one of submission for women. I speak from personal experience. I come from a violent family, a violent community.

Mozambican rapper Yveth “Vauvita” Matunza is a qualified lawyer who works full time at the Mozambican Human Rights League offices and raps about rights issues and gender violence. Credit: Solange dos Santos/IPS

“What people do and teach and show, is that women must obey their husbands … the number of domestic abuse cases are increasing since September 2009, despite a new act (being passed in) parliament,” she says. In 2009 parliament passed the act on domestic violence, which became operational in March 2010.

She says rap is important to changing attitudes and bringing understanding to the issue.

The enthusiasm in Maputo is palpable. Paulo Chibanga, a music producer and musician who performed in bands, including the South African 340 mill, and Tumi and the Volume, has returned to Mozambique after 15 years in South Africa.

He is working with the Ministry of Women’s Affairs and Social Welfare to raise money, through music performances, for nursery schools in the Mozambican province of Gaza. A war baby, born in 1979 – the country’s civil war began in 1977 and ended in 1992 – Chibanga feels his generation is relatively un-encumbered.

“We are connected to our pasts without being dragged back … we have no resentments, we know our heroes, our culture. We are free, we are positive,” he tells IPS.

But, like Matunza and Mate, Chibanga is politicised, clear and determined to work to an African agenda.

“I think the Western world affects Africa drastically, we are forced to listened to Western music. In Mozambique we don’t have our own record labels, or the option to record. I am more interested in exporting Mozambican culture and musicians, through Bushfire (Swaziland’s pan-African and international music festival) and the AZGO music festival here in Mozambique,” Chibanga says.

Chude Mondlane is the daughter of the revolutionary president of the Front for Liberation of Mozambique or FRELIMO, Eduardo Mondlane. She is a musician, a performer and a big personality. Visibly radiant, she laughs and plays her music on a laptop in the five-star Polana hotel, oblivious to the turned heads.

She has also returned to Mozambique after years of international travel and playing with music greats such as Marcus Miller, Roberta Flack and South African pianist and composer, Abdullah Ibrahim.

“Here there’s so much opportunity to play all kinds of music, a vortex that has opened up…it’s all happening – the worst of the worst, the best of the best. It’s all mixed up. Creatively, anything is possible.”

She is, however, critical of the lack of funding for arts and culture, and the growing dependency on donors and foreign aid.

“We present this face to the donors … We need to be clear about which bits of tradition we want to keep, and which to jettison. Some of our traditions, like female submission, or women being second-class, are actually awful and we need to say this. We can’t only say what donors want.”

Solange Dos Santos is a dynamic female photographer with a degree from the New York Institute of Photography who has just opened up the first photography studio space in Maputo. Dos Santos, like many Mozambicans returning from years abroad, is excited about the future.

“I left in 1996, so coming back now is amazing. So much has changed. It’s buzzing, alive, more liberal, accepting. I love this about Mozambique. It’s very tolerant, very forward looking.

“The infrastructure is way more developed, the nightlife is buzzing, there are films, art (exhibitions), concerts in the park, dancing, theatre, live music every night – it’s so friendly!  There’s something in the air that makes you want to experiment, give it your best. Here you’re allowed to – completely.”

Dos Santos’s pioneering photographic project done with the United Nations Development Programme, which shows albinos in completely new ways, has toured Africa and New York.

“I want people to see the humanity and beauty in each other … We’re so globalised. I can wear a capulana (a traditional wrap), or high heels and still be a feminist.”

Visitors to Sound Central, Central Asia's Modern Music Festival, held at the French Cultural Centre in Kabul. Credit: Giuliano Battiston/IPS

By Giuliano Battiston
KABUL, May 9 2013 (IPS)

Another kind of war, less explosive than bombs and more subtle than night raids, is taking place in the Central Asian country of Afghanistan: a war of cultural influence. Its means are financial sponsorships and other support for cultural and artistic events.

Last summer, when the Queen’s Palace of the Bagh-e-Babur (the Garden of Babur) housed the Afghan branch of Documenta 13, many in Kabul asked themselves what role art and culture play in a war-torn country. They stated that artistic products could help justify the military occupation or reflect an image of Afghanistan far from its unstable and chaotic reality.

“Culture has become an essential tool to influence the perception about Afghanistan,” Aman Mojaddedi, an American artist of Afghan descent who with the Italian curator Andrea Viliani managed the Afghan section of Documenta 13, told IPS last July.

Mojaddedi pointed to France, Germany, the United Kingdom and the United States as countries that “are investing more and more money in the cultural field”. Their support “is aimed at demonstrating that the international presence in Afghanistan has been successful and that Afghans now do live normally”, he added."Culture has become an essential tool to influence the perception about Afghanistan."
--Aman Mojaddedi

“There’s no doubt, it’s a sort of manipulation,” he said.

Some disagree. Zabi Siddiq, a teenager whose family comes from the Panjshjr Valley, did not consider himself manipulated. “I am interested in new forms of arts, as they show that a better future is possible, even in a country like Afghanistan,” he told IPS.

Siddiq is among hundreds of young Afghans who attended the third “Sound Central“, Central Asia’s Modern Music Festival, held at Kabul’s French Cultural Centre from Apr. 30 to May 4.

The festival began several years ago, when Trevis Beard, a photojournalist and the founder and primary organiser of Sound Central, and his friends “felt unsatisfied with the music and cultural landscapes” in Kabul. “In 2011, we [held] the first big modern music event in Kabul. It lasted one day, hosting eight rock bands,” he described to IPS.

Since then, the festival has grown, along with the number of its sponsorships. The largest and most generous sponsor is the Swiss Agency for Development and Cooperation, but many other embassies and international public donors are involved, with few private ones.

The third edition of Sound Central hosted a range of events, from rock and heavy-metal concerts and rap performances to a photo exhibition and a show from Parwaz, a puppet theatre ensemble.

The audience was mainly comprised of expatriates – many of them journalists, photographers and employees of non-governmental organisations – and young Afghan boys wearing t-shirts, jeans and colourful sneakers.

In one open space covered with a purple tent, artists produced works of graffiti. One of them, Reza Amiri, about 20 years old, began to create graffiti a year ago, after participating in a workshop at Kabul University. He claimed to be a follower of Shamsia Hassani, a 24-year-old girl acclaimed by international media as the first serious female graffiti artist in Afghanistan.

Amiri realised he loved this new form of art because “through it you can address hot topics in a direct and effective way”, he said, showing a work depicting a female face next to the words “let me breathe”. “It shows the search for freedom of the Afghan women,” Amiri explained to IPS.

Twenty-seven-year-old Folad Anzurgar has pursued a more orthodox style of art. An oil painter, he told IPS that he enjoys subjects expressing the pain of war, “the beauty of peace” and “the Afghan traditional way of life”. “Things like graffiti and rock-music are for the youngest people and cannot replace our cultural heritage, which is much more rooted,” he noted.

Indeed, in Afghanistan, especially in rural areas where 75 percent of the population still lives, many believe that contemporary artists are introducing external values into local culture. Many have never heard of rock music.

Sulyman Qardash is the singer and leader of the rock band Kabul Dreams. “We now have a lot of followers within the country, as well as [outside],” he told IPS. Most of the band’s followers are from Kabul, and while Qardash has played in Turkey, Iran, India and Uzbekistan, within his own country, he has never played outside the capital city.

“It is undeniable that with our festival we introduce new cultural items,” said Beard. “But we do that without any imposition,” he explained to IPS. “We just provide Afghans a new platform they can choose to use.” Still, he is aware that in a war-torn country, such work has many implications and inevitably becomes part of the battle for “winning the hearts and minds” of Afghans and internationals.

“Despite the money we get from international donors, we are completely free of any political influence,” Beard added.

Mojaddedi approached the issue of traditional and modern culture in a more nuanced manner, underscoring the mutual enrichment of every cultural exchange. “Any culture is hybrid, and hybridisation is…in every place at every time,” he told IPS. “New tendencies are also creating the opposite effect here, with some Afghan artists trying to preserve their own, more specific culture.”

The push and pull of this hybridisation is an old story. As Gilles Dorronsoro, a prominent expert on Afghanistan, wrote in a recent paper, both the Soviets several decades ago and the West today “attempt to impose a social model of modernisation that is not acceptable to the local population, apart from the urbanised elites”.

Francisco (left) and Alfonso Ichu Tamo at work in their shop. Credit: Miguel Ángel Souza /IPS

By Anna Infantas
SANTA CRUZ, Bolivia, Jan 10 2013 (IPS)

They belong to the Amazon of Bolivia, where their people, the Moxena nation, are found, and they are brothers. Francisco and Alfonso Ichu Tamo came to this southern city to become the premier makers of musical instruments.

The work of Francisco, 36, and Alfonso, 33, takes place every day behind the walls of “Amatista”, their small shop in the southeastern city of Santa Cruz de la Sierra, one of the largest in Bolivia.

Far from the bustle of this city of nearly three million people, their shop is perfect for listening to the melodies emerging from the instruments the two brothers create and repair. They inherited a taste for music from their father, and took it a step further by becoming luthiers.

The Ichu Tamo brothers were born in a jungle area near the town of San Ignacio de Moxos, in the northeastern part of Beni, and for them the music is part of their existence.

“In 2000 I was one of 30 members of the Orquesta Hombres Nuevos (New Mens’ Orchestra). Played the violin. Had the problem that no one could fix our instruments. As a prank, I started repairing the bow of my violin … The teacher saw me, and told me I had a knack for becoming a luthier ,”Alfonso told IPS at his workshop.

Until then, the younger of the two brothers had never heard the word “luthier”, but it seemed very appealing.

That was how he ventured into a different field, which still kept him attached to his passion: music. Alfonso began combining two of his skills. To his musical talent he added his expertise as a craftsman and was slowly making his way.

A year later, the non-governmental Fundacion Hombres Nuevos (New Mens’ Foundation), driven and led by a Catholic priest, gave him a scholarship to pursue a specialisation in French masters. The training took place in Urubicha, an indigenous Guarayo town, famous in Bolivia for its school of American Renaissance and Baroque music.

The Instituto Formacion Integral (Integrated Training Institute), Choir and Orchestra of Urubicha are footnotes in the rescue of the little known classical Bolivian identity, which is a unique syncretism of string and wind instruments. So is the Bolivian New Men Symphony Orchestra that Alfonso belongs to.

This orchestra, participating in international festivals of early music, has rescued Baroque music composed in the 17th and 18th centuries in the Catholic missions established by the Society of Jesus (Jesuits) during the Spanish conquest.

They practically single-handedly preserve the oldest of the Chiquitos mission in Santa Cruz district, the one of the Moxenos in Beni, adjacent to the north, because other Indian missions were destroyed with all their wealth.

Some time after finishing his training in Uribicha, Alfonso encouraged his brother to move into the same craft. CAF, the Latin American development bank, took responsibility for completing his training, and helped him set up his workshop about 15 kilometres from the city centre, capital of Santa Cruz district.

Being luthiers was not difficult for these brothers, who left their native community to settle in a more vibrant city of Bolivia.

“One is born with the knowledge. It was easy for me, for example, to learn to build the sound box of the instruments, because my father taught me to carve. In the countryside, we created many things with wood … planes, cars, instruments, played with our imagination, and there was always music in our surroundings,” said Francisco.

Making and repairing musical instruments has become a way of life for Alfonso and Francisco, who can produce a violin, cello or viola in a period of between two and four weeks.

“Whatever you want! If we don’t have the pieces we make them,” boasted Alfonso, smiling. “You spend not only effort in making these instruments, but also feelings. Therefore, the instrument sounds according to the emotion of the maker… I do it thinking about big concerts,” he said seriously.

The brothers Ichu Tamo have learned the techniques of French, Swiss, Argentine, German, Venezuelan and Italian masters.

As a result, they know that to get a good instrument not only requires concepts of physics, mathematics or chemistry, but you also have to know how to choose good wood, know how to synchronise sounds and have talent, because each piece is an expression of the manufacturer’s deep feeling.

Their reputation as luthiers has risen to the point that the district’s various symphony orchestras come to them for the repair and manufacture of instruments. Several pieces have even been exported to countries in Europe and America.

“When we make a new instrument, we like to know for who it will be, because as musicians are jealous of our art,” said Alfonso, as Francis nodded.

The two Moxenos, who speak the native language of their parents as well as Spanish and some English, grew up with three brothers in a lonely farm in the Amazon jungle, away from neighbours and relatives.

“We didn’t travel to the city either, so there was only us and our imagination,” said Francisco.

The Bolivian Moxenos, also called Mojenos, belong to the Arawak culture that spread between the Caribbean and the Gran Chaco, composed of southern Bolivia and northern Argentina and Paraguay. One of its characteristics is the importance of music in ancestral rites and activities. It is composed of about 30,000 members in the urban and rural areas.

While the Ichu Tamo brothers work together, each develops his work differently.

Francisco is himself an artisan carver, who enjoys wood carving in total silence. Alfonso takes the baton on the sound, where his experience as a musician favours him.

He is responsible for the accessories, and calibrating each instrument to produce sounds according to the requirements of the future owner.

“To understand the instrument you have to know two things that go together,” says the artist. “We’ve been blessed,” said Alfonso, a way of recognizing that his tradition and artistry allows him to lead a dignified life.

“We like to perfect the art, so perhaps for this reason we do not worry about the financial issue, but we do not complain,” they said as a team, as Francisco’s meticulous and unstoppable hands gave shape to a piece of wood, which in a few days would transform into a violin.

Young members of the Simón Bolívar Symphony Orchestra. Credit: Courtesy Fundamusical Bolívar

By Humberto Márquez
CHICAGO, Illinois, US , Dec 3 2012 (IPS)

A group of young people walk down the streets of Chicago, broad grins on their faces. They have good reason to be happy: the ovations received by their repertoire of Latin American music when they played in the Simón Bolívar Symphony Orchestra of Venezuela still echo in their ears.

They are conscious that they are professional members of an orchestra with sold-out performances wherever it appears – in Europe, Asia or the Americas.

The orchestra is also the foremost symbol of an orchestral and choral system – known simply as “El Sistema” – developed as a social and educational project, which has benefited some 400,000 children and young people in Venezuela, mainly from underprivileged backgrounds.

They have spent many years immersed in musical studies, like any virtuoso. But in their case they were first gathered together in regional music schools, and later on for public performances in the pyramid of children’s and youth orchestras of which they have now reached the pinnacle, the acclaimed jewel in the crown.

Commitment to constant study and teamwork is the key. First bassoonist Gonzalo Hidalgo, a 28-year-old from the state of Barinas in the southwestern plains, several of whose uncles are folk harpists, and who has just graduated as a medical doctor, sums it up.

“How did I manage to play in the orchestra and study medicine for eight years? Well, I gave up days off; while other people were at the beach or out dancing, I was dividing my time, asking professors to schedule me to take exams early, and they were understanding, because I think two out of three of my teachers were frustrated musicians,” he told IPS.

As a resident physician, his day at the University Hospital in Caracas starts at dawn. He attends patients until 11:00, when he rehearses with the orchestra for three hours, then returns to the hospital. At night he studies. When he travels, a colleague looks after his patients.

“I remember beautiful moments, like playing in the Acropolis in Greece or in the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra concert hall, where I played a bassoon solo in Igor Stravinski’s Rite of Spring. But above all I appreciate what we have done in Venezuela to bring people to concert halls to hear classical music,” Hidalgo said.

Gabriela Jiménez, a 28-year-old cellist, lives in the busy centre of Caracas. “We belong to a demanding and very energetic orchestra, which moves sophisticated audiences like those in Italy or Germany, and defends our music, a Latin American repertoire,” she told IPS.

On its U.S. tour, which took them to San Francisco, Chicago, Philadelphia, Washington D.C. and New York, the orchestra played “Sinfonía India” by Mexican composer Carlos Chávez (1899-1978), “Tres versiones sinfónicas” (Three Symphonic Versions) by Spanish-Cuban composer Julián Orbón (1925-1991) and “La noche de los mayas” (The Night of the Mayas) by Silvestre Revueltas (1899-1940) of Mexico.

Also in the repertoire were “Rituales Amerindios – Chaac” (Chaac, the Mayan water god, from Amerindian Rituals) by the young Argentine composer Esteban Benzecry, “Choros número 10” (Choros number 10 – It Tears the Heart) by Brazilian composer Heitor Villa-Lobos (1887-1959) and “Cantata Criolla” (Creole Cantata) by Venezuelan Antonio Estévez (1916-1988) of Venezuela.

“I took music lessons when I was very young, and then I went to a núcleo (group) that was part of El Sisterma, and I won a place in the Bolívar Orchestra by audition in 2006. Once upon a time I wanted to be an architect, but now this is my world, everything is centred on the orchestra,” said Jiménez, who has a Master’s degree in Cultural Industries from the Complutense University of Madrid.

Mayerling Carrero, who is from the Andes on the southwestern border with Colombia, has 22 relatives who are musicians, 15 of whom play the trombone, including her brother Pedro who is the first trombonist in the orchestra.

It was natural for her to take up the instrument. “The trombone has seven positions; when I was a little girl I could only reach three,” she told IPS, laughing. Like her fellow musicians in El Sistema, she spent her mornings at primary school and her afternoons playing music. Later she completed a secondary school programme specialising in music, attended the University of the Arts, and joined the orchestra.

At 29 the mother of a 15-month-old daughter, Carrero is the only woman trombonist in the Simón Bolívar Orchestra, where she has played for 12 years. But she confidently says that “any girl who likes the instrument can play it, if she is willing to study, play and struggle.”

First percussionist Félix Mendoza also inherited a legacy. His grandfather Napoleón Baltodano, who arrived in Venezuela from Nicaragua in 1929, was a trumpet player and music teacher, composed meringues, and formed an orchestra in the Venezuelan plains region.

“They tell me I began much like other children, hitting pot lids with spoons in the kitchen,” he told IPS. “Later on I wanted to play the trumpet, but they told me I couldn’t because I was too small, and so it was easier to take up percussion, especially as an uncle of mine who was a drummer gave me lessons.”

His father, an evangelical pastor in El Tigre, a southeastern Venezuelan city dependent on the oil industry, “always supported my studying music, but was very apprehensive about whether it could really provide a livelihood and support a family. Now he can see that it is possible,” said the 27-year-old Mendoza, who is married to a violinist and is the father of a newborn daughter.

The 180 other performers in the Simón Bolívar Symphony Orchestra have similar stories. Their conductor, Gustavo Dudamel, another young man from the provinces who owes his stardom to El Sistema, is one of the most sought-after conductors on several continents.

José Antonio Abreu with children from the youth orchestra system. Credit: Courtesy of Fundamusical Bolívar

By Humberto Márquez
BONN, Germany , Oct 4 2012 (IPS)

Venezuela’s youth symphony orchestras that have enamoured audiences on several continents are a social programme aimed at fighting poverty and marginalisation, more than an artistic endeavour, says the founder of the initiative, José Antonio Abreu.

The National System of Youth and Children’s Orchestras of Venezuela, known simply as “the system” or El Sistema, got its start in 1975 in a basement where Abreu began to rehearse with a dozen teenagers.

Some 400,000 children, adolescents and young adults, mainly from poor families, currently attend the programme’s educational centres and take part in 90 preschool, 130 children’s, 288 youth and 30 professional orchestras and choirs.

One of them, the Caracas Youth Symphony Orchestra, completed its fourth international tour at the Beethovenfest in Bonn, Germany on Tuesday Oct. 2. The orchestra visited six European cities, accompanied by Abreu, who at the age of 73 still appears to be everywhere at once, taking care of details in rehearsals, participating in international tours, and managing relations with the world’s leading musical centres.

The charismatic Abreu, a musician, composer, economist and social visionary, has sat in parliament and served as minister of culture from 1989 to 1993. He is the patron of musical institutions in different countries, and has received numerous prizes and awards for his work.

Abreu sat down with IPS during a break in the Caracas Youth Symphony Orchestra’s European tour.

Q: If the system of orchestras is not only an artistic initiative, but a social programme to fight poverty and exclusion, how does it manage to simultaneously export quality music while defending the poor?

A: That is our great challenge. To develop a musical system of extremely high quality, where excellence is the watchword, while at the same time guaranteeing that all Venezuelan children and youngsters from middle to low-income backgrounds have full, free access to this training.

Q: Doesn’t that road to excellence mean playing the music of the elites?

A: Music has to stop being an art for the elites, it has to stop being a monopoly of a small part of the population, and it must become universal patrimony, especially of the poor. And a culture for the poor cannot be a poor culture, but one of extremely high aesthetic level and extremely high pedagogical and social level.

Q: But how do music and this system pull young people out of poverty, exclusion, their needs and problems associated with crime or drugs?

A: At the very instant that a child is given an instrument and a teacher, the child is completely rescued, because an infinite path is opened up before the child – the path of art.

Art means perfection, and the road to perfection has no limits. That is the path that opens up before a child who receives an instrument and a teacher, but the rest is up to us: providing the child with an education, adequate infrastructure, quality instruments, teachers, and encouragement to continue.

Q: That is what you mean by rescuing them from poverty?

A: That is it. Because poverty is not only material. The most terrible poverty is not being anyone. Mother Teresa of Calcutta talked about that a lot, about not having an identity, which is the most miserable poverty.

The artist takes on a lovely identity in the eyes of society, and these children acquire that at a young age – with their uniform, their instrument, their orchestra, their concerts, they feel proud of who they are and of what they do, and they aspire to a better personal and collective future.

Q: Nearly 40 years after you started this movement, how would you sum up what began as such a small initiative?

A: Well, we now have a total of 400,000 young people and children involved, counting both the network of orchestras and the network of choirs.

That is 400,000 families involved in this, which makes it a social project of extraordinary magnitude. And with the increase in the number of teachers, the construction of new centres, and the endowment of new instruments, there is no limit to how much El Sistema can grow.

Q: Is it possible to develop other movements like this elsewhere in Latin America? Does your system of orchestras and choirs work with other countries in the region?

A: We are already doing this. We are working with Peru, Colombia, Ecuador, Uruguay, Paraguay, Brazil, all of Central America, and Mexico, and also with Spain and Portugal, through the Ibero-American summits, with an orchestra of that bloc which has already begun to perform.

And in the rest of the world, we have links to systems being created in Scotland, Italy, France and Greece – programmes of cooperation and exchange for young people in Europe.

Q: Will this mean that more works by Latin American composers will be incorporated in the repertoire of the systems of orchestras?

A: Yes clearly, because this is not just for young musicians. The programme is also for young composers, young creators. And the development of orchestras and choirs opens up enormous possibilities for musical composition.

I am sure that in the next few years music in Latin America will have an immense creative splendour, because the young composers of today will be the maestros of tomorrow. They are steadily growing in both numbers and quality.

Q: Are you ever criticised because of the abundance of pieces by European composers in the repertoire of El Sistema’s orchestras?

A: This criticism comes out of ignorance and mediocrity – above all, it comes from a lack of information and culture. Because anyone who knows anything at all about us knows, for example, that El Sistema has a national programme dedicated exclusively to cultivating Venezuela’s instruments, the Alma Llanera Project.

And a huge sum was just granted to expand the practice of Venezuelan instruments and national music genres throughout the country.

The people who voice such criticism have not come to our concerts.

Q: Do you believe the system is sufficiently established to continue when you and the team that has worked with you almost since the very start can no longer carry out the work you are doing?

A: Without a doubt, because what we are doing now is training our replacement team. We are training the new generations.

This Youth Orchestra is 22 years old, the Simón Bolívar Orchestra, the head of the system, is now adult, and all of its members are teachers. The expansion in the number of music teachers to which the growth of El Sistema has given rise is indefinite, and fully guarantees its continuity.

Q: So it is a policy of the state, not of a government?

A: Yes, it has been from the very start. The position of the state has been unchanging, guaranteeing the right of young people and children to a musical education.

We see this as the exercise of a constitutional right of children and young people. And for that reason, the state guarantees it, as it guarantees secondary schools, universities or hospitals. These are established, deeply-rooted social rights, fixed and irreversible.

Excerpt:

Caracas Youth Symphony Orchestra in Vienna’s Konzerthaus. Credit: Nohely Oliveros - Fundamusical Bolívar

By Humberto Márquez
VIENNA, Oct 1 2012 (IPS)

Venezuela’s youth orchestras have gotten used to wild applause and standing ovations in Europe.

But this time the warm reception was not for the Simón Bolívar Symphony Orchestra, the most visible face of the National System of Youth and Children’s Orchestras of Venezuela (FESNOJIV), a network of youth and children’s orchestras that has put instruments and music scores in the hands of 400,000 children and young people.

The concert held in Vienna’s Konzerthaus on Thursday Sept. 27 before an audience of 1,800 people featured the less experienced Caracas Youth Symphony Orchestra.

The orchestra, whose 170 members are between the ages of 14 and 25, is about to complete a tour that has taken it to Ravello, Italy; Prague, Czech Republic; St. Petersburg, Russia; Ghent, Belgium; and the Austrian capital. The last stop is the Beethovenfest in Bonn.

“This audience that has gone crazy here has always been very demanding, shaped over decades by a repertoire like the one we present and which can be a challenge for any orchestra,” Dietrich Paredes, the orchestra’s 29-year-old conductor who was previously first violin, or concertmaster, told reporters in the dressing room in Vienna.

On Thursday, every piece was wildly applauded, like Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s Francesca di Rimini, Dmitri Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 10, Bacchanale by Camille Saint-Saens, Johann Strauss I’s Radetzky March, Klaus Wunderlich’s Tico Tico and Leonard Bernstein’s Mambo.

The spectators applaud and applaud until even the most reluctant are on their feet, and the youngsters in the orchestra pull off their yellow, blue and red jackets – the colours of the Venezuelan flag – and toss them to the audience, in what has become a tradition.

“The public is fascinated because these marvellous interpretations by people who are so young are a gift to the heart,” said Karl Schagerl, representing the Konzerthaus. “And for us, as a musical city and a musical country, it is important for the world of politics to see how important the music of these orchestras is for society.”

For over three decades, FESNOJIV, known in Venezuela simply as “the system”, has been one of this South American country’s outstanding achievements. Hundreds of thousands of children, adolescents and young adults have received a musical education in 90 preschool, 130 children’s, 288 youth and over 30 professional orchestras throughout Venezuela.

The system also has choirs – the Simón Bolívar National Youth Choir was performing in the United States while the Caracas Youth Symphony Orchestra toured Europe – guitar-making workshops, orchestras in prisons, a conservatory, and thousands of music teachers dispersed around the country.

From this nursery for young talent emerge musicians like Carlos Vargas, a percussionist who was named to the leadership of the youth orchestra and who stressed “the way these European audiences, for whom we play European music, have received us.”

Paredes’ explanation is that “the Caracas orchestra has a unique character that makes all the difference. For these very grown-up audiences, who are used to performances by orchestras made up of top-quality professionals, it’s something different to see an orchestra of young people who have such a particular sense of rhythm, strength, style and energy.”

Vargas told IPS “for us it is an honour and a pleasure to be on these stages, but it is also a challenge, because this is where so many leading composers and orchestras have worked and performed.”

Europe, he said, “has always had youth orchestras, but as a programme to train their musicians. We see it as a way of life.”

Andrés Rivas, 22, a concertmaster who is now a budding conductor, said his new responsibility was “first and foremost a privilege in a world where orchestras seek experienced conductors. That is why my wish is to direct this orchestra in the best theatres, and for the orchestra to get better and better.”

“We also want to continue transmitting our knowledge to the children, to the kids of the coming generations. We already have the future: this is it,” Rivas told IPS.

They said the system did not favour the Venezuelan capital at the expense of the regions. When the Caracas youth orchestra goes on international tours – like the current European tour or previous ones in China, South Korea, Norway, Portugal or Colombia – they invite musicians from youth orchestras in the provinces.

When the members of the youth orchestras talk about their experience, they invariably underscore the work of and the example set by their maestro, musician and economist
José Antonio Abreu, who founded the system in 1975 after inviting a dozen youngsters to start practicing in a basement parking lot.

Year after year, Abreu has led the initiative – which won Spain’s prestigious Prince of Asturias Award for the Arts in 2008 – raising funds, creating new projects, accompanying the youngsters on many of their trips, and helping other countries replicate the system.

Fortunately for the system, it has remained on the margins of the political polarisation in Venezuela, where President Hugo Chávez, in power since 1999, is set to win another term on Oct. 7, according to the polls.

Since the system was created, it has had the support of every administration. In the last year, it received 127 million dollars in public funds.

Environmental and community activists from Taiwan will enliven the United Nations Sustainable Development Conference, dubbed Rio+20, and the parallel People’s Summit, with one of the island’s most prominent social protest music groups, the Village Armed Youth Band.

Even though Taiwan’s 23 million people have not been represented in the U.N. since October 1971, several delegations will attend the Rio+20 conference and its side events, including a group of government officials led by Environmental Protection Administration Vice Minister, Yeh Hsin-cheng; environmental officials from the island nation’s five special municipalities; and a civic Taiwan Action NGO (TANGO) delegation.

Led by Taiwan Environmental Protection Union (TEPU) President Wang Chun-hsiu, who attended both the fist earth summit in Rio back in 1992 and the 2002 Johannesburg meetings, the 18-person TANGO delegation includes activists from the Homeworkers United Foundation, the Green Citizens’ Action Alliance Taiwan, the Community Empowering Society, the Taiwan Environmental Info Association, the Society of Wilderness and four youth delegates from the Taiwan Youth Climate Coalition.

On Sunday, the TANGO delegation held an event entitled, ‘From Energy Democrazy to Energy Democracy: Taiwan’s PPP (People’s Power Plant Movement) and Green Collar Taiwan.’

They also plan to hold two protest marches in Rio.

Wang said the TANGO delegation would enliven its activities with performances by the radical Taiwan folk-rock group, the Village Armed Youth Band, thereby introducing to People’s Summit participants the generally unappreciated richness of Taiwan’s social protest music.

Based in central Taiwan’s Taichung City, the three-person band has emerged as a potent grassroots voice for Taiwan’s anti-nuclear power movement and numerous other environmental causes as well as struggles by farmers to resist expropriation of their land by central and local governments for industrial development plans.

Village Armed Youth Band guitarist and vocalist Chiang Yu-da, usually known as “Ah Da”, composed a new song, ‘Formosa Etude’, specifically for the Rio+20 meet, which begins with the words, “Formosa, I have written a mother’s poem for you…will you not listen to my singing?”

“Taiwan should not just be seen, but also heard,” said Chiang, whose group features an almost entirely acoustic sound with Siao Chang-jhan (“Ah-Chan”) on djembe drums and Wei Hong-yang (“Lichun”) on violin.

“Most of our songs are concerned with the degradation of Taiwan’s agriculture and rural and land justice,” said Chiang, who stated that the five-year-old band took its inspiration from Taiwanese “rice bomber” and activist Yang Ju-men, who planted 17 small explosives made mainly of rice in the early 2000s to protest Taiwan’s entry into the World Trade Organisation and push the government to protect the interests of farmers.

“I brought that attitude of being armed into our music, whose ideals are the same as those which Yang Ju-men expressed with his bombs,” said Chiang, a graduate of the philosophy department at Tunghai University in Taichung.

A notable example of this theme was Chiang’s ‘The Song of the White Dolphin’, which protested the threat posed to the critically endangered marine mammal (also known as the Taiwan Pink Dolphin) by the government’s plans to build a major Kuokuang Petrochemical Project on Taiwan’s central west coast, on “reclaimed” land in the Dacheng Wetlands that are the white dolphin’s last habitat in the country.

The song, whose simple lyrics comprise a lament by the white dolphin that “cannot find its mother”, helped fuel a nationwide civic movement in which over 30,000 citizens offered to contribute to a proposed fund to buy 200 hectares of wetlands as a reserve for the dolphins.

The ‘Save the Taiwan Pink Dolphin’ movement gave national and international prominence to the decade-long campaign by local farmers and environmentalists to block the massive project led by the state-owned CPC Corporation and other petrochemical firms and played a major role in the announcement by President and ruling Chinese Nationalist Party (Kuomintang or KMT) Chairman Ma Ying-jeou on Apr. 22, 2011 that the complex “will not be built in Changhua County.”

Besides performing in numerous protest rallies, on university campuses and at NGO meetings around Taiwan, the Village Armed Youth has issued two VCDs, the first in 2009 and the second, ‘Return Our Lands’, a year later, while ‘The Song of the White Dolphin’ was included in a collection called ‘Petrochemical Nation’ issued by the Changhua County Environmental Protection Union in 2011.

‘Return Our Land’, which has also been produced as a seven-minute MTV video, was written and performed in support of the ongoing struggle of residents of Siangsihliao village against expropriation of their land for an expansion project of the Taichung Technological Zone.

Chiang said the group would perform mainly environmental and land justice songs in Rio. These may include ‘No Justice, No Peace’, ‘I Don`t Want to Work the Farm Anymore’ and ‘The Devil’s Gift’, a protest song about the government’s continued push to develop nuclear power.

Relating that he translated the band’s songs into English with photographs illustrating their backgrounds, Chiang told IPS, “I hope through our music we can have dialogue with people from other countries and explain Taiwan’s experiences, what is happening now in Taiwan and what the Taiwan people are doing about it.”

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