sam_cronin

Cous-cous: the undeniable champion of travel food

Sam.Da.Man_99@hotmail.com (Sam Cronin) — Sat, 01 Jun 2024 13:42:36 GMT

It's light, cheap, exotic, flexible, tasty alone - oh, and only needs two minutes in cold water: what more do you need?

Let's get into situation:

Hungry ✔

Enjoy delicious food ✔

On the road ✔

Know how to prepare vegetables and spices ✔

No gas cooker or not working ✔

Limited carry space ✔

Camping or off the beaten track ✔

Low budget ✔

(Or simply, just interested in the wonderful world of what you can do with cous-cous?) ✔

Enter the Cous-Cous cookbook...

1. Pour into container.

2. Add equal amount of liquid: water, wine, beer, fruit juice,.coconut milk.

3. Watch it rise.

4. Consider your favourite foods - green curry, tagine, sweet and sour, tomato soup, bolognese...?

5. Find a flavouring mix that suits it - some can be store-bought in a packet or jar, others: be creative!

I usually flavour mine with whatever turns up at the time of shopping. Fresh herbs, local spices and exotic sauce can punk up your cous-cous and divine the easiest, healthiest, tastiest meal.

Pulses can send a surge of nutrition and flavour too, such as beans, chickpeas, lentils - often available in store-bought cans.

Then slice and dice your vegetables so they're not too chunky, and you have it - 10-minute nutrition-rich, leaving you with extra spending money, more free time and imagination for your next creation.

Tweaks of a Melody – Ali Khattab: Tracing the Arab Tracks of a Spanish Tradition

Sam.Da.Man_99@hotmail.com (Sam Cronin) — Sat, 01 Jun 2024 13:42:26 GMT

Flamenco music is a Spanish specialty, but its origin has long been associated with the 'Gitanos' (gypsies) - so how could Arabs be involved? Ali Khattab's music reveals the secrets...

During my travels with the 'Troubadours Tour' in Andalucia, Southern Spain, I was inspired to meet Egyptian-raised guitarist and composer Ali Khattab, who heard these echoes after confirming his love for flamenco music and moving to the town of Jerez de la Frontera, Spain, where his natural Arab musicality inspired the discovery of a cultural relationship that goes back through the centuries.

And from there all is revealed...

*–––> The large country of Spain connects to Morocco on the African continent via the Strait of Gibraltar, a tiny passage of water with which passage between the two is made easy (even more so today with a road bridge!) It was on adequate ships that the Muslim Empire, which spread from Saudi Arabia at the advent of Islam in the year 610 to conquer the Maghreb (North Africa) and thus Morocco, marched onto the Iberian peninsula (Spain and Portugal) and put it under Arab government and settlement.

Over the years, most parts of Spain and Portugal were Arabised. The Arabs left a lasting mark on the architecture and culture when they were sent back to the Maghreb when the Catholic houses of Aragon and Castille finally united and Christian Spain was eventually reclaimed during a period called the "reconquista".

For the Muslims or Arabs who remained in Spain, they came up against a brutal crackdown by the new government, a religious and ethnic cleansing legalised under the name "the Inquisition". Even Protestants were arrested, attacked and removed of rights (Ireland in reverse), and along with them the wandering Sephardic Jewish people, the travelling India-rooted Romani (gypsies) and the lost, displaced Muslims and Arabs.

The "gitanos" (Spanish term for gypsies) originated in India and they are best-known for their contribution to flamenco music and development of its song and performance, as they arrived in Spain in the 1400s with the culture of the Arabs still living and blending with the practise of the Spaniards who had gradually absorbed it, as well as the Arabs that had settled in Spain.

The music customs of the Sephardic Jewish communities were alive and present as well, also influencing the music of the era, and so flamenco organically grew as an inadvertent mélange of the nation's history. <–––**

In his performances and on his two album releases, Ali Khattab demonstrates the play of Arab music in this art form, while creating eloquent compositions - melodious and rhythmic - and evoking feelings of universality, open frontiers, but most importantly the unmistakable link between Iberia and the Maghreb.

Channeling Arab music through the Spanish guitar, Ali shows us the way to integrate with a new country is to find the commonalities, and through music he proves how they can these can harmonise just as easily as tweaks of a similar melody.

What more is to be discovered when we consider the songlines of the globe? ��

�� Listen to Ali's two albums, "Al Zarqa" and "Sin País (Without Country)" on Spotify HERE .

Troubadours Tour: First Stop in Budapest

Mon, 08 Apr 2024 16:39:36 GMT

The first leg of the Eastern Europe adventures of the Toubadours Tour!

3 weeks ago we landed in the Hungarian capital, after a 2-day bus tour from London with Flixbus, foregoing our plans to visit the UK & Ireland and fast-tracking to feed our hunger for Hungary & the East!

❔ DID YOU KNOW ❔

Budapest encompasses the two ancient cities of Buda & Pest, each on either side of the larger river pictured, the Danube, which runs a large stretch of the East of the continent.

�� MUSIC ��

Hungary has some wonderful traditional music, particularly a characteristic violin-playing style, which we sampled when we visited a "tanchaz" or folk-ball (vlog upcoming!). The Jewish and Rom (Gypsy) communities have all thrived and shared their music as well here, as we heard lilting from authentic national restaurants in the city.

�� FOOD ��

Hungary is actually very famous for paprika ��! This tangent, peppery spice different from chili pepper is a staple in Hungarian cooking - characterising the famous "goulash" (gulacs), as well as "paprikash". I love it - how about you? It's a different variety to the one you'll find in a Spanish "paella".

�� They also serve around a lot of "sourcream" (tejfol) as well my FAVOURITE THING: "nokedli", mini egg and dough dumplings, not too different from pasta!

�� For dessert, they have a wonderful thing known as "chimney cake" (kurtokaclasc), a hollow spiralled cake in the shape of a chimney, which can be civered in cinnamon, flaked with pistachio or filled with ice cream! ��

Apart from enjoying walks by the Danube, the historical monuments were very impressive, as well as the uniquely-styled churches. We stayed in a very fun old apartment block with an open courtyard and an old-fashioned lift with closing shutters I've only seen in old movies! ��

�� HIGH POINT though was the infamous "thermal baths" of the city, springing from natural hot pools underneath. For €9 (£7) - OR 3600 in the local "forint"- enjoy an all-day natural spa of varying temperatures going up to 38°C �� Soooooooo relaxing... best to cool of afterwards with a chimney cake ice cream ��

Album Back-Tracks: Migrant Workers Rights in the Arab Gulf

Mon, 11 Mar 2024 18:22:18 GMT

A theme of the coming album, in Middle Eastern countries such as the UAE and Qatar, there is a severe human rights violation and social inequality in the form of the modern-day semi-enslavement of migrant workers.

Rights Abuses

These violations involve poor accommodation facilities for the workers, minimal salaries and no minimum-wage system, long contracts for up to 3 years without a holiday, plus poor treatment by employers and employment companies. It’s even the case in places like Qatar where workers are forced to live in labour camps very much on the outskirts of the city where they are hidden from view, causing them to have to travel very long distances to get to their jobs and implying that they have a very low standard in society and are considered to tarnish the nation, even when they are the very ones at the forefront of developing the nation.

However, from one viewpoint you could say that these people are gaining immensely from the situation because they are gaining employment abroad when there are no jobs available in their countries of origin. Their minimal salaries are often worth a lot more in their home countries and by sending it home – which many of them do – they can help their families and friends and put their children through school, with the prospect that they may go on to learn a skill so they aren’t forced, like their predecessors, to become migrant workers.

Regardless though, definite improvement can be made to resolve the social inequalities that these workers face. In this article, I will look at some events and topics regarding migrant workers in the Middle East and give an overview of their situations, including why they are the way they are and how governments and policy-makers could go about changing them.

Case Study – Ocaya Moses, Uganda (Qatar & Dubai)

I will begin with a case study about a man I know personally called Ocaya Moses (first name Moses), who left his home in Uganda, East Africa, to work for a security company first in Dubai and then most recently Qatar.

Listen to the song I wrote about Moses here

Watch the video for the song here

I have also created a documentary version of the music video available here ,

where I interview Moses and learn more behind his story .

I have also discussed the song more when I was in Uganda visiting him, watch my interview here

In Qatar, Moses worked as a security guard for a British-system private school for the large Western expatriate population working to develop the recently-modernised gas-rich country. Within the school, Moses was treated well by the mostly-Western staff and students and his British supervisor.

However, by his employment company, run and financed by local aristocrats, Moses’ treatment was not as well met. His salary was merely enough for him to eat a standard meal once or twice a day, with the rest going home to his immediate family, taking care of his parents, wife and allowing his three children to take up education. His accommodation facilities were very poor, having to share a small room with 3 other people sleeping on blankets on the floor. Some people he would share rooms with worked nightshifts which naturally caused disturbances. The main issue with his company-provided accommodation was that it was very far away from his place of work, on the outskirts of the city where workers were “hidden”, meaning it took him at least an hour in a cramped company bus to get to and from work, worse when he had to be at work for half five in the morning and finish at half six in the evening.

"In Essence he would be getting very little sleep to do a job that isn't particularly active,

and in a country where the outside temperature ranges between 30° & 50° C"

Contract Durations

The next issue I would like to discuss is that of migrant workers’ contract durations. Moses worked six years overall in Qatar, with two in Dubai doing a similar job. In those eight years he only returned to his home country for a work-leave three times, all for just two-month periods. The length of time away from home allowed for increased stress and homesickness for Moses and in the case of, perhaps, your average white European person, this would have very negative effects on their work attitude, social demeanour and general attitude towards life.

However, people from backgrounds such as Moses are often much more positive in harsh situations such as this, as they understand that they are progressing their families through their sacrifice, as well as using rich countries to feed the economies of their own countries, allowing for their increased development.

The ‘real’ inequality

But even with this in mind, there needs to be a change in this system and to allow for fairness and less social inequality, especially in countries such as Qatar where the average salary of a native resident is the highest in the world, there is no excuse for such poor treatment of a very necessary workforce.

As fundamental as wealthy developing countries are to poor-background migrant workers, so are those migrant workers to those countries. Similar to immigrants in Western Europe, they often take the jobs no-one else wants to do and will work harder and in worse conditions than native residents of the country.

This allows the nation to grow faster, however, the case of migrant workers in the Middle East is very different from immigrants in Western Europe.

Immigrants in Europe often settle, with families and friends, and apart from the occasional demeaning attitudes of native people they are not made to face the same level of abuse and inequality as a developing-world migrant in the Middle East.

"One main factor in this is the levels of development of the two regions, and the rate of development."

Economic Transformations (Qatar)

Qatar, for example, has turned from its traditional setting of small towns, villages and nomadic camps dotted around the completely-desert country, to a giant modern sky-scraper metropolis in just over fifty years; Western states such as the United Kingdom have developed over centuries. This stark contrast is a very large factor in the situation of social infrastructure in places like Qatar.

You can learn more about the economic transformation of Qatar

with my song "Gas in the Ground", soon to be released on my debut album!

Whilst it only takes money and man-power to build a modern city, it takes a lot more to develop social attitudes towards how a modern society should be, and in very recently-established places such as Qatar, culture and traditional ways of thinking often influence attitudes towards the treatment of low-class individuals, much more that they are from foreign countries. Once again, nationalism and traditional hierarchical mentalities provide a precedent for the actions of governments today.

In Arab Gulf states, even white Westerners are never treated as equal. They often only go to these countries for work and are often treated like “white slaves”, or a different level of migrant worker. The big difference is that the white and Western migrant workers are treated as befits their employment & background, in comparison with those coming from developing countries: they are paid according to their customary salary in country of origin, and often given a high standard of accommodation. They may not be treated on equal levels with the indigenous natives but they are still very rewarded, standing at a sort of “middle ground” between the native residents and the poorer migrant workers.

"Social inequalities in the Arab Gulf states are very apparent and obvious,

and a large concern for people coming from a Western country."

The social divide is somewhat comprehensible - given the history and structures of those countries - but to be considered a developed, modern nation of the 21st century, these countries are going to have to make vast changes to their management of low-class foreign labourers.

Extreme Cases in the Workplace

It is certainly shocking to hear of cases such as those in Qatar where migrant workers have died from heat exhaustion and over-working, with reports and news coverage being heavily-controlled with these cases, in a bid to prevent the world media from having reason to portray the country negatively. There has recently been much speculation on the plight of migrant labour workers involved in the construction of the stadiums and facilities for the FIFA World Cup which Qatar is hosting in 2022 (at time of writing), with reports of heavy casualties on the part of the labourers. There is clearly a great deal of development in social attitudes in the Arab Gulf region required if it is to ever be properly given a developed-world status.

Steps towards solving this case of global inequality and social injustice could include: Firstly, establishing a minimum wage system, to allow migrant workers the benefit of a fair, standard income; better management of their housing and designating rooms for day-shift workers and night-shift workers is another thing.

You can learn more about the migrant construction workers of Qatar with my song "Man from the Mountain",

a song I've adapted from a Nepalese poet who tells the story of his countrymen - soon to be released on my debut album !

I have also made available to watch a pre-release music video , which you can watch here

But for there to be real change in a case such as this, as with many cases throughout the world, it must be through a shift in the mentalities of the ordinary people, which will reflect with the government. But dealing with other cultures and nations and criticising their way of doing things can be seen as colonial and demeaning, as it’s hard not to take a strong Western view towards such things.

The “Neo-Colonialist” Perspective

But I, and many in the Western world, believe there are fundamental principles that all cultures should work by, principles which would, or at least should, not counteract or undermine the rightful beliefs of a certain country or group of people. It can be fairly said - in an un-colonial manner - that places like the Arab Gulf states are very much a step backward in time, hiding this image with the allure of modern architecture.

Their society and social structuring and beliefs is very much a mix of medieval or Victorian England, but somewhat confusedly paired with the luxuries and material influence of modern-day England, forsaking the time in-between which European countries took to develop the level of social standards that they have today.

"With this view, I believe it is up to international organisations to change

countries like Qatar and the UAE to allow for any real development."

Continuing westernisation of this region brought about by the mineral wealth is certainly having some effect on this, but the real reality, I believe, is that the West is completely unable to tackle the social problems of these countries without engendering complaints of colonialism from the countries involved.

International organisations would have a better foothold if they take a more global approach to the problem, but really, if history is anything to go by, real social change is most effectively brought about by internal revolutions.

The sad point of the case of low-class migrant workers in the Arab Gulf states is that who, apart from those involved of course, is going to care? Worst thing is that the workers are in a foreign country, representing how the globalisation of labour has great impacts on social issues such as this. If the workers try to revolt or go on strike, their employers have taken their passports, so have immense leeway. Even then, in most cases I know very well that the employers would not think twice about deporting any rebellious employees and just recruiting another desperate foreign worker from the line of millions.

Conclusion

To conclude, feel the main thing to consider with this topic is that the workers are desperate; they are just looking for any way to have a better life, or to allow their next generation to. The powers of the Arab Gulf states exploit this, as this same exact thing is exploited throughout the world for the economic benefit of those in power.

In this essay, I feel I have partly laid the foundations for a greater argument about social change in the developing world, and made some basic suggestions to how this issue can be further discussed.

EP Back-Track: "Archangel"

Fri, 09 Feb 2024 17:58:59 GMT

The sanctuary of a home feeling in the dependable guidance of my sister's love.

I mentioned in " Back-track: Child of the Nile " the wisdom of my childhood friend Moses that it is important to always keep positive, don't look down, and "hope for home".

It has often been a wonder that home isn't this material, physical place on earth that can be defined by length lived, or memories taken, or birthplace. To me it has come more to define belonging, peace and comfort. When I think of these three feelings I go to my family. The family bond can be strong - some might say it is the tribal tie that our survivalism originates from, and should under no circumstances ever be broken - and for me my family were always that: my tribe.

We shared so much together, we moved country together, went on holiday together. When we had to adapt to a new place, get our bearings on a new life and form new friendships, we always had each other. Even our family dog, Kovu, introduced during our first year in Holland, gave life to the tribe.

But for me, there was a slight disparity between my older siblings, Lucy being seven years my elder and Josh five. Through my childhood I don't remember them much, though they were there, and it wasn't until I became a teenager and understood the value of family did I truly recognise them.

I consider this song a tribute to my sister, but in all honesty I wrote it the day my brother left us for university in England.

I couldn't address why at the time - sure life was chaotic enough at fifteen - but I have often felt the loss of my brother gave me a sudden realisation of what my siblings meant to me, and how to give closure to their sudden leave-taking.

"I know you love me, because I paid the price". This rings true for any goodbye, and sure the pain of goodbyes becomes a regular feature in the life of a TCK. Time immemorial has seen family's break apart, tribes disbanded, as one of them goes off to a new life, on another adventure - might as well sometimes be to another country. It's a normal passage, stronger the further away it is, the closer the tie, but no less a price that has to be paid for relationship.

As life went along, I actually grew closer to my siblings as I neared adulthood. The problematic times can be advantageous when you're the youngest of three, and you know two siblings who have tried and failed before you. Josh always had more of a strong hand, whereas Lucy graced me with her gentle touch. Mum and Dad were archangels to me too, for a lot of other things, but they were always there, until I flew the nest, with the wings they passed on to me.

But life didn't come easy, even with these guiding souls of support. When the world

turns too much the paler shade of blue, one can only rely on their self, can't they?

I remember when I started travelling independently - guitar, clothes and an open road - I thought I was alone in my adventure. The first day people had sussed me out as a wanderer, and all along helped me on my way. I'll never forget them, the care they shared, the laughter, the joy, the generosity of time and the benefit of the doubt. My life, and I hope and trust, all our collective lives in union have graced many 'archangels'. It's the spiritual notion that those who guide us are always with us, the wisdom-givers and light-bringers - the man at the cornershop, the hairdresser, whoever it might be.

For me it began with my close kin, but since it has been a Brazilian bluesist, a Belizean pirate, and all those featured on my upcoming "To We the World" album, spirit guides who have found me off-course and brought me on the wind.

We always have to say goodbye, but we can have time to give each other what we need, and the closure mends the void.

I am forever thankful to my "archangels", most of all my dear Lucy, who always brings her silver lines.

EP Back-Track: "Child of the Nile"

Fri, 09 Feb 2024 17:54:25 GMT

How my friendship with a Ugandan security guard healed my teenage blues.

In 2008, my family moved to Qatar, what would be the last step of my childhood world tour, our second in the Middle East, and our home for seven years.

Driving out of Doha airport at that time (a lot's changed now) the first thing that strikes you is the hot Arab night, of course. The minarets stand tall in every neighbourhood (naturally) and the muezzin sings his song of praise in an echo that reminds you where you are. Further on, you pass between the carpet and furniture shops, Indian delis and car retailers: a McDonalds, a KFC, a Burger King, Dunkin' Donuts, a French Carrefour, a German Aldi - any world delicacy under the sun the Qatari planners (or were they?) could pay for and develop.

From that time (I was thirteen and learning), it didn't occur to me how much people there were from poorer parts of the world to work and function the Arab and expat desires to delight in these Western chains. As it turned out, most of them were Filipinos. There was a system: an average Filipino was considered easier to understand than an Indian, Bangladeshi, Tamil ("South Asian" for reference), therefore many non-communicative roles - like cleaners, dish-washers, the like - fell to the latter. Makes sense right?

This carried to my school, and where it became the most personal.

At my school, the cleaners were again South Asians, the girls who ran the cafeteria (little more than a kiosk) were communicable Filipinos. The Filipinos maybe earned a fair slice more than the South Asians, they had a more personal service, and a fair slice less than the teachers, staff, receptionists, oil executive parents of the students, a Qatari sheikh, relative of the royal family... There was a system. A cross-cultural hierachy. That's how it was, and awakening from a pre-teen slumber into the dismal days of puberty, adolescence and progressive maturity brought to life more personally this multi-faceted immigrant world of which I and my family were apart of.

I began taking nightly violin classes at my school when I was fifteen. The instrument had long attracted me; I was happy with singing and the guitar, but felt I would enjoy another string to my bow. The nights were cool then, my brother had gone to university in England a year before, my sister long-since. Friends were disappearing to other lands, other Arab states or simply back home after a finished contract.

My family had recently moved house, smaller for the decreased numbers, but closer to school; so attending the lessons was a walk in the park . The lessons went great, just the one a week. A lovely but slightly terrifying classically-trained Romanian virtuoso led the dance, retired from her days at the Bucharest Philarmonic. A stern teacher was Lavinia, but good at heart. Our lessons ended well and on our goodbyes I began the walk home. Just before the gate, I met the eye of Moses, now my closest, most respected long-term friend.

Moses was from Uganda, which I knew nothing of, but apparently someone in the colonial era called it "the Pearl of Africa". He was one of a team working for a security agency employed at the school, to manage the comings-and-goings of the attendees and direct the cars during the morning and afternoon parking . He wasn't the soldier guard to protect us from Islamists or thieves; the Qatari police were also on call for that - but they didn't talk as much. Moses was friendly and kind, with a light of curiosity in his eyes. Bottom-line, we got to talking, briefly at first and prolonged after more weeks. Every night just him sitting there, drinking his tea and watching the quiet night.

As weeks went by, Moses took an interest in my music and we played some guitar in his booth. I remember some tea and possibly some "ugali" (semolina starch paste), an East African staple and beans and chaps (chapatis) for me to try.

"I want to write a song about you" I proposed.

So we did. Moses wrote out a script of text for me and I clung it to my bedroom wall.

The song carried itself, and the peace and good humour of Moses became contagious. Here was I: fifteen, at school, warm, comfortable house, my own bedroom, dulling at fleeing friends and school responsibilities, the pains of aging, this expat life. There was Moses: father-of-three, has to work in Qatar to provide for them, Ugandan opportunities bare. His flat room was shared by three others of his job, a mattress on the floor, a place to wash and to cook. Stairs leading down to the road where a bus would drag him back and forth from the school, ninety minutes each way now - they'd recently relocated all migrant flats to outside the view of the main populus.

But Moses had no choice. It was his lot and he knew why he was doing it, he had a responsibility and saw this as his only way to improve. "Don't worry, be happy" was his regular phrase, as well as "East and west, home is best". So keep positive, don't look down and always hope for home. That was Moses' teaching, and it occurred to me this was the thoughts of many of the other migrants, from whichever part of the world. It was wonderful how they interacted together, learned about eachothers' cultures and shared their experience. They all had come here for a better life, only temporarily, to seek benefit in Qatar's opportunity.

As a teenager, nothing is black and white; everything changes, and there are many questions that never get answered. No one can answer them. But Moses gave me a strong bond of friendship and whole-hearted confiance which I never felt before. He helped me through an awkward period, and reminded me of the Ibo man who took care of me as a child in Nigeria. He taught me perspective, very constructive for a maturing youth, that no one else could provide.

He taught more me more about the complexities of the world, and how we are all just players in a shifting society making our aims and desires possible with what we have to begin.

Like Moses of old, he led me to the promised land, and from the waters of the Lake Victoria came this wonderful child of the Nile.

EP Back-Track: "Summerdown"

Fri, 09 Feb 2024 17:42:18 GMT

How some time in England rooted me in a firmer sense of belonging and the

concept of "home" through growing closer to the spiritualism of my birth-place.

I never thought I could a write a song about my hometown.

Life as a TCK -or any other traveller who leaves their home for a long period of time - definitively deconstructs this worldwide human attachment to place - defined succinctly as "home".

As a child of expat parents, my connection with England was intermittent. I was born there, but I left after 6 weeks. We returned for summer holidays (we'd kept our house), we met with the relatives, dropped in on the grandmas.

When my family left Kuwait when I was 5 we went back for a few years. I did my nursery school and first years of school just down the road from our house. I made friends, I wore the uniform; I have fond memories of walking the green Wiltshire road to my classes with my mother and doing the same the way back, salivating to get to my peace-time with a cup of sweet, milky tea and biscuits and sit in front of the children's hour on TV.

We had school fêtes and sang hymns in the morning, sang at the village church for Christmas and I played with my friends in the woods (sometimes my friends garden with its elaborate, Dad-made treehouse). And then we left. England was no more.

Since then, it was the Netherlands for five years at a very international school, we returned to England for three months (there was some moving trouble so we had no choice), then Qatar for the rest of my youth . I can recall strongly in Holland when the school did an International Day. Fun right? Everyone brings something from their national cuisine, maybe wears a national dress, does a bit of stage performance of some kind - poetry, song, theatre, comedy. Sure, easy enough when you've been in your country long enough to know something, or there's something about your nation that you're particularly proud to share.

What did I share? What food did I bring? How did I dress? Nada.

My family were so much travellers that we weren't too interested in carrying England with us, we had more to bring from Nigeria or Kuwait than we could collectively exchange about England. On another note: what would interest people about England? I know more now, and it was an adventure over a long period of time to understand what there was to love and share about my country.

After visiting Uganda and Brazil in the winter of 2018-19, I found myself back at home in Wiltshire, where my parents had been living once again after leaving Qatar in 2014. It was on training for a planned bike tour of Wales that I properly got to know and fell in love with the English countryside. I felt once again in a foreign country, with so much to know and understand, and to explore. On my bike I was free to roam. Eventually I'd worked the strength to carry my guitar up Wiltshire's undulating hills (my money-maker and companion-to-be on the Welsh adventure) and began to busk in the towns and cities around.

From the Wessex Downs through the Pewsey Vale to Devizes, Marlborough, past the ancient stones of Avebury to the megalith of Stonehenge in Amesbury, I would soon land in Salisbury, spreading my voice around the stone facade of its grand cathedral. So much history in this little county of England. My mum once called it the "last frontier of the English countryside"; a few towns and small cathedral cities dotted around an almost untouched wilderness surrounded by farmland. Even then, the Celts built Stonehenge and the other megaliths 6000 years ago, the largest of its size on the isles and soon discovered to be a homing point for the ancient Celts of Western Europe to gather and pay homage to their gods and customs - a sort of Celtic 'mecca'.

It soon became apparent that my home was truly fascinating. I began joining folk music circles in pubs around my home, and was enthralled by the talent and tunes to be listened, bringing this - my - enclave of the English kingdom to life and enchantment.

Being English was finally fun, and I was growing more happy of what I had been given (in any 'loose' sense of the word) to call home.

Home is where the heart is, they say... Home is where I lay my hat... As a TCK, traveller, migrant, nomad - whatever - you can wear many hats, and fragments of your heart can be shared infinitely to each new place.

But defining a place as home, somewhere to cherish above the others, or more: your pin on the compass, your heart centre, "stopping point" - homebase - is valuable.

Just like the Celts had Stonehenge and the Muslims have Mecca; I have Wiltshire, my spiritual centre... and a little house overlooking one of its seven White Horse Hills, an iconic image of my childish mind. A house on the Avon River called "Summerdown".

EP Back-Track: "African Time"

Fri, 09 Feb 2024 17:29:14 GMT

How three months in the Ugandan capital

put a beat back in my step and got me back on track.

In late 2018, I found myself in a strange place in my mind. I'd just come home for the third time, dropping out of my International Relations degree at the University of Kingston, London (not Jamaica!) - this time because alcoholism had torn me against the world I lived in and thrown my last hopes of a higher education out of the window. I didn't care. I'm a musician and every experience = inspiration. I didn't study the degree to join the UN, join the government, work for an NGO. I wanted to travel and be a musician, but as everyone I knew was going to university I thought why not learn something detailed about the world I was travelling into.

Turns out student life didn't suit me. The schedules, the homework, the books, essays - all this work learning from the past or from other people who spend their lives in an office; not to mention the box of an apartment room, little but a cage against the cold English air and reserve. What does one do when they feel trapped, alone, isolated, estranged and fed up with it all?: they self-medicate. Sitting in my room in my countryside home, a place Mum chose for it's sanctuary, the whisper of Jameson's whiskey slowly airing from my system, my thoughts flew to Africa.

"I'm making a move in the right direction" I strummed, "Hakuna matata" (Ki-swahili for 'no worries'): Ie. You'll be alright... you'll figure it out... you'll get there in the end, just take it slow. Polé polé (slow down).

The next week, I get a message from Moses Ocaya, my teenage friend from Qatar (*who you can read about in " Back-track: Child of the Nile "). He's a Ugandan man in his forties, humble, kind and wise. Moses has dealt with it all, when I met him he was earning what he could as a security guard in the Middle East, sending most of it home to feed his family, school his children, nurse his ailing mother and build his house. Now he's getting married. Again. To the same woman! ��Long story short: Moses can finally afford a church wedding. The fees are so high that when a couple want to mark their unity they have a traditional tribal wedding, which can be fun if they're different tribes and different religions (like Moses and his wife).

I'm invited, the journey is long. I meet some US Puritans at passport control, on their way to aid the poor; (on the way back I'll meet more US Puritans with adopted African babies) but I'm not here for culture clashes - I'm in Africa for Africa. My friend picks me up in a borrowed car, a 4x4 he could never afford. He's joined by friends I remember well from my month here in 2014 - Mama Rose and the girls and guys of her guest-house, where I'll be staying.

Already, everything starts to slow down. . .

Life is so much easier.

The heat of the night is friended by a gentle breeze, not unlike how I feel. The palms swing to the rhythm of a new moment in time, a moment where life is less confusing. We cruise by in the car, stopping to nourish my air-weariness and welcome me to Kampala with a "Rolex" (omelette of red onion, cabbage and tomato rolled up in a chapati, the Indian-imported flatbread), a simple, delicious treat that eases me back to the country I have longed to return.

Oh Africa. . . I'm back!

I miss Moses all the time; he's been such a good friend to me over the years, and I love and respect his spirit and soul. I understand that life here is not free from anxieties either - in fact poverty breeds all types of stresses, naturally. But being here with him, I feel calm. I realise now, it's the relativity of our situations that renews my perspective: there's him, father of three, a wife to marry, school fees to pay. Security guarding in Dubai and Qatar got him so far, now he says he's helping load shipping containers going to America from a port in Kenya. But the work's not reliable, sometimes he has money, sometimes he doesn't.

And me: Expat kid, modest education at international schools, never lacked (apart from an identity), kind, generous, loving family (slightly broke apart a few years before); a promising musician but little other professional skills, defines travel as the ultimate goal to avoid having a home but can't even get a degree or a teaching certificate to help pay for it all. Plus the last of my money (save for this trip) I've just given away to the Kingston booze shop.

Moses wouldn't understand. It's not his business to know the problems of westerners, or the societal struggles of TCKs and sons of engineers. But I know he cares, I know he'd help if he could, regardless of his own difficulties. The relativity hits me when I realise our differences, how Moses is the one with the most problems but through practise he's owned them, he lives by them - he accepts them and he gets a move on. This is what I need. To be grounded... To escape the pressures of my "modern society" and be more like Moses, following the breeze, doing what I can, surviving, enjoying and being.

My hopes as a diplomat or journalist were never realistic, I will always be a musician; the world won't change whether I have a degree, or a modest, supportive family, I will still have to survive. And surviving is much easier without worrying: ie. anxiety and world-weariness.

One of my favourite lines of this song, music being my therapy, is "there is always something to prove when the world needs correction"... I believe that to be very true, and stand by this philosophy today. Like the body pushing out a virus, our lives passively get rid of their waste - we make decisions for all sorts of reasons (we don't know what to do, we have to make a choice, someone suggested it was the right thing; or simply, it just went that way) and we have to deal with it, and realise how unuseful it is.

And that goes for the world: is every war, political takeover, corporate scandal, oil spill or any other event great a small not a reaction to say 'SOMETHING IS WRONG'? I think it is. It would be easy enough in our own lives to say I'm not gonna do that because it's not good for me, and I'm sure mindfulness can help this, but somehow we are able to make things more complicated than they need to be. I would like a world where this doesn't happen, where all the parts of my life are balanced just like people could be balanced if some of them didn't undermine the potential of others.

I want to develop myself at my own pace, not the pace of the capitalist modern media, or the university programs where everything must be done NOW, NOW, NOW. I want to be like Moses, and the host of other wonderful, warm, gentle, pure-of-heart Buganda and Aloo, Runyoro, Tanzanian Masai and all the other people who made me feel most welcome, at ease with their small-standard but beautiful lives together in self-built houses, or mud-brick huts where solidarity and selflessness benefit everyone.

Who knows where the money's coming from, who knows when we can buy a "data ticket" to download the new Blockbuster. We have good music, good friends and a slow life. This is what Uganda gave me at this unstable moment of my life, a song I know is sung the world over. So why let this world torment us? There is nothing so important than our survival and well-being, mental health and spiritual centrality.

So I'm now a travelling musician, fair and straight. Not too much pressure, no deadlines, it will be done when I do it and if I didn't do it, it doesn't matter.

I'm in Europe at the time of writing, but in my heart and that of my 6-month-old Nigerian self: I'm on African time.

Troubadours Tour: The Galician 'gaita'

Fri, 29 Sep 2023 12:46:49 GMT

The region of Galicia on the north-west coast of Spain hosts a perhaps surprising and rich heritage of music traditions, which hold at the forefront a charismatic bagpipe.

Clouded – no doubt – by the vast coverage and international appreciation of the Andalusian art we all know as flamenco, Galicia (“Galiza” in the local language) has traditions going back centuries. With strong ties culturally and musically with the Celtic world, and international links further afield, you can find here an identity that today still shapes the way many Galicians see themselves, and ultimately, express themselves through their music.

Gaita - The sound of Galicia

The gaita (from a Germanic word which gave the English “goat”) is considered “the sound of Galicia” - in Cristina Pato’s words, a foremost international proponent of the instrument and participative member of the Silk Road Project. Essentially, a goat-skin bagpipe played much the same way as a Scottish Highlands bagpipe, with the mouth on the chanter, underarm on the bellows and fingers on the recorder.

The instrument is often associated with the region’s Celtic origins. There is a legend from the 5th Century of the historic figure Breogan and historians have traced the migration of British Celts to the peninsula. To commemorate this link, in A Coruña (a city on the North coast) you can find a “rosa de vientos” (windrose) in respect of the six other Celtic nations.

The Celtic connection though has seen some criticism over the years though, even being called an ‘'invented tradition” concerning llimited evidence. While enjoying this link and its value, chosen more among many over a further connection with the rest of Spain, many would prefer to call Galician heritage and culture a treasure entirely to itself.

Reach and Resonance

The gaita can be seen and heard all over the region, as well as Northern Portugal, where Galician links are still strong with shared history and language; even more it has found celebration among the Latin American diaspora. A bastion of Galician identity, its charming sound and eloquent nuances echo up and across the Atlantic, and year-round at home delighting tourists visiting the famed Catedral de Santiago de Compostela, even shortcoming the ‘peregrinos’ of the Camino de Santiago as they reach their sanctuary.

The provincia of Pontevedra in the south-east holds many heritage events in towns and villages where the instrument can be heard, involving local people of all ages and generations to learn and support this symbol of Galician music. Events can be found regularly in “ centro culturals ” as well as village gatherings, and during annual festivities in city centres and main streets, such as the February celebration of San Blas .

At these strong community assemblies, the gaita takes stage along with various traditional dance routines, vocal ensembles performing traditional songs, and a menagerie of drums and percussion, particularly “bombo” (bass drum) and “pandeireta” (tambourine).

The costume and pomp associated with these events is a grand spectacle as well – the gaita itself is decorated in many different colours and many different designs, and even comes in three tonal varieties, with gaita ensembles playing in harmonies.

The Minority Culture

History shows there has always been conflict between Galicia and the wider Spanish authority, particularly during Spain’s transition to democracy. As with all minority cultures, asserting itself and its values in the face of further centralisation can prove a struggle and a source of discontent. In Galicia, it can be more likely to feel as you were in Ireland – the weather and slow pace of life a main factor - in comparison with the fiesta -driven Anduluces or the more Mediterranean vibe further east.

The gaita and Galician music – albeit to some may be an ignominious symbol of the Galician past – is continued strong and pure by those who acknowledge and appreciate it, with over 50 groups performing year-round in the region, as well as many contemporary Galician musicians reinventing its unique sound. A real wonder for those who wish to experience another side to Spain.

Read and watch more about the ' gaita' on the Troubadours Tour Facebook & Instagram !