Thursday, January 29, 2015

Finding Khadija

For me,  it starts with the words.  Without the words there is no Village.  After it was decided to take my project "A Village Of One" to Morocco I did research about what language the songs should be translated into.  French?  No, that's not the language everyday folk speak in Morocco.  Arabic?  Well, in Morocco classical Arabic is not the language of choice.  People speak an amalgam language called Darija - a spice blend of Arabic, Berber and French with piquant additions from other sources.  I wanted the songs in "street language", so Darija it was.
I needed to start the work in the autumn 2014.  Song translation takes time.  The text has to be thematically resonant and fit over the melodies.  The words have to be sonorous as well.  When the translation was done into the Bahasa Indonesian language in 2012,  the challenge was that there were many more syllables.  A four syllable word in English became nine in Bahasa!  Although percussive, it took some doing to make the words fit the melodies.  And it was hard for me to learn!
Darija would also be challenging because of the written script.  Backwards and swooping,  I would have to rely solely on phoenetic pronunciation provided by the translator.  It made the job of translator even more important.
And where to find a translator, especially one with a poetic soul?  My Brooklyn neighborhood is diverse, but a Moroccan element would have to be searched out.  One day, in my local laundry, I looked more closely at the proprietors and all of a sudden a light went on in my brain.  "Where are you from",  I asked a certain quiet woman.  "Morocco", she replied.  There was a sparkle in her eye, a hesitating warmth.  I sensed something beneath the surface in her.
I was to discover that I had found my translator, Khadija Dannoun.

Khadija was born in Beni Mellal, Morocco, between Marrakech and Fez.  She spent her formative years in Rabat, and had moved to Brooklyn with her husband three years ago.  I asked her if she would be interested in translating my songs and she nodded her head.  We began working together every two weeks, systematically moving through my lyrics.  Khadija started to sing the words at our meetings in an small but even voice.  Sometimes she would bring in a few choices of words or phrases and we would have a lot of fun trying them out in the context of the songs.
There was no small talk, just poetry.  The body of work began to grow.

3 QUESTIONS FOR KHADIJA DANNOUN
January 13, 2015    In conversation with Paula Jeanine Bennett

P:  So Khadija, when you came to my house the first time and I presented the songs to you, what were your first impressions?
K:  Truly speaking, when you invited me to work with you, especially when I had read the topic that you were talking about, I was happy to translate it for you into Darija, which is my native language.  Actually I was enjoying the work with you.

P:  We worked over the last few months and you did a lot of translation.  As you moved through our process, how did you start to make a choice of one word or another word?
K:  Every time I was translating the words, I was carefully choosing the right words in Darija in order to be understood by Darija speakers.

P:  The two of us are from different worlds, different backgrounds, different countries.  Did you find it difficult building a bridge between us to do the translation?
K:  When I was working with you I didn’t feel any kind of tension or difference between our personalities.  I felt a very deep sense of harmonious trust that had taken place between us.

Sunday, January 18, 2015

The First Gate

I have been Morocco twice before.  The first time was fourteen years ago with a large r&b ensemble.  We performed for King Mohammed VI at his Agadir palace.  After the concert, we were asked to dine.  I remember lobsters the size of dachshunds and silent servers deftly walking around impossibly slippery marble pools.
The second trip was right after my dad passed away in 2003.  I needed to go and spend time with the gnawa healer musicians in Essaouira.  They calmed and comforted me.  The memories of walking through the narrow ancient streets have stayed with me since then.


How to return to Morocco?  I had an idea to bring my folk opera, "A Village Of One" with me.  I wanted to find an arts host that would make it possible for me to adapt "Village" for a Moroccan audience.   Last June I approached Culture Vutures, a successful grassroots artisan organization in Sefrou, Morocco, in the middle Atlas Mountains.  The invitation was secured, and the trip was anchored.
The joy started to surge in me, knowing that I would get to return and bring my songs and stories in an active sharing.  It was time.