Late July 2012 I’d arrived in Kathmandu. After a long wait sheltered from the rain in the doorstep of my friends bar. I was welcomed into Cookies place. He hugged me warmly and brought me chai and food, we talked. He said he would help me in any way that he could and that I could help by organising a jam session a few times a week. This was encouraging news and I felt blessed by a higher power. Somehow just when it all seemed so scary, alone in this foreign land I was protected. I booked into a really basic room in thamel. The cheapest I could find. I was instantly struck by the depth and darkness of the problems and poverty in Kathmandu. The groups of Dalit children, glue sniffers, beggars these amazing wild children, running around filthy dirty, some of them with baby’s in their arms or limbs missing, struggling along on makeshift crutches. One hand outstretched tapping the legs moving from tourist to tourist asking for the money. I could really relate to these guys. Outcast from society for whatever the reasons and with no safety net. I mean in the west you would have agencies all geared up to help the homeless but there is really nothing much like that in Kathmandu. Nepal is the second poorest country in the world and no one really asks too many questions about the untouchables. Out of site out of mind. Thats what Dalit means untouchable. The lowest caste. Some of these children probably did not come from that caste association but for whatever reason here they were homeless and at risk. Seemingly trapped in a self perpetuating cycle of hardship and discrimination. I was also very poor. I had no money, not even to pay for my room so I began busking on the streets of Thamel. Nearby the Kathmandu guest house its the main tourist area. There are a lot of tourists walking the trail. There are many trekking shops and people buying supplies for their trekking holidays, stopped off the plane on route to mount Everest base camp. It always was a profound and magical experience to me to sing in the streets. I think that live street music brings people face to face with their fears. Its so interesting these situations, I love reading the body language in people. They will either display fear or love. Its a clear cut thing. Many of the tourists would look at me like I was crazy. I don’t think many westerners turn up and start busking in the streets of Kathmandu. I would observe them spotting me from down the street and as they drew closer I would notice their walks change. Theyd start walking faster and the eyes dart uncomfortably from side to side. You can always read a person by the eyes. All thoughts are reflected there in a flash. So they would walk past and often shield their eyes or I would notice them making some deflective small talk to their friends and you hear it the fear in the tonality of the voice as they rush past.. like they don’t want to even look at you. Its a challenge its a test. Sad to say that here in this place most of the tourists appeared very challenged by my simple presence and by their ideas about my street performance. The amazing thing was that the locals totally loved me. They would be coming out of the shops like gobsmacked, taking photos and films on their phones. laughing smiling absolutely enraptured by what I was doing. “Can anyone spare 5 rupees for some Dhal Bhat” I would ask in a firm jovial voice between songs. Many of the locals would oblige me and I would always go away at the end of a day with a lot of paper. Many five or ten rupee notes. In a couple of hours I would receive many drops like that. The locals really wanted to help me. Sometimes they would bring me water or sandwiches. I realised directly how profound it is to sing out from the heart in the streets of this city. Its always like that busking but here in Kathmandu it was something very powerful. My heart was breaking wide open. The street kids also took a keen interest in me. It didn’t make sense to them. A broke tourist in Nepal ? The roles were reversed. I would often be moved close to tears those first nights in Kathmandu. I was filling up with raw emotion often. I remember it as a magical time but I was really on the verge at this point of breakdown. Occasionally a westerner would stop and drop me a generous contribution into my hat not everyone is locked up in the prison of the financial mindset but I was intrigued as to how in this place mostly it would be the locals who would support me. “why you here?” they would ask “what is the problem?” .. “No no, no problem” I would reply. “This is my job” I would tell them “I’m a musician” “in my country this is also my job”. Singing the love songs for the beautiful humans in the streets. There were favourite songs which I sang and they would love to hear me sing Mya Meri Mya. They would ask me again and again for this song on repeat. The most famous and successful pop song to ever come out of Nepal. I loved this song from the moment I heard it my ears pricked up and I wanted to sing it. Even though at first I didnt know what the lyrics meant to me it communicated everything that I was feeling at that time. In Kathmandu there is one melody and you hear it everywhere you go from the street sellers selling the Sarangi they would play it like a bright cheerful melody. The Sarangi is a traditional stringed violin type instrument traditionally from Nepal. “I love this melody what is it” I asked my friend Cookie. “Resham Firiri” he replied smiling. Very nice song for you brother They were all so excited to teach me that song and so I worked on it. Its a beautiful old iconic folk song of Nepal. So I worked it out and jotted down some of the words in my book. Within a few hours i was busking it and the people responded dancing in the streets. So now I had two famous songs from this amazing land and I was just getting started. I began to thrive and really enjoy my role here on the streets of Thamel. I was singing from my heart full power for the Dalits for those locals and for the 5 rupees, not so much for the tourists. I wanted to immerse myself fully in the Nepali culture. I got rid of my shoes. Actually I’d been walking bare foot more and more since Rishikesh. There’s something very magical about it. It connects us to the raw energy of the land. You wouldnt necessarily advise it though here in Kathmandu. Here is one of the most polluted places on earth. But I didn’t worry or think too much about that. When you walk barefoot you have to really be mindful of your steps. Its like a pure meditation to feel. To really feel the ground beneath you .. each little detail. If it was good enough for the street kids then it was good enough for me. “Where are your shoes?” the locals would ask me shocked. “I don’t have shoe’s” I replied “I don’t use them” they would be flabbergasted. In fact the amount of beautiful locals who offered me shoes during that time but I always declined the kind offers. I relished more and more challenging the set belief systems and I became close with the street kids. I would buy them food with the money we made. We would sing together often in a big group. Sometimes the whole street would come to a standstill and police would come shouting and raising their sticks but they were always so friendly to me. There were two young boys that really stood out. They were not sniffing glue, they were thin and malnourished and their tired faces spoke of genuine heartache and hardship. They were both fantastic singers. They helped me and I helped them. Within a few days were working effectively together. We watched each others backs. We would often get moved on by the police or by shop owners who didn’t want us singing outside their shops. So we would walk like a circuit and we had all our little busking spots where we would stay for a while and sing until we got moved on. I was touched deeply by these amazing children. I remember one evening after moving through the busy streets it was like I had just completely surrendered all my fears. They would carry my guitar, the money, the hat the bag and I would follow them through the sprawling dirt roads . “Here, here we will try here!” We stopped put out the guitar case for the money and we sang. One of the guys played guitar and I sat on the roadside and watched as they sang. I just started crying my eyes out. Uncontrollable tears came overflowing in me as I watched the scene once more unfold as the tourists shuffled coldly past us. Why are you crying one of the boys asked me.. I couldnt answer him I just looked at him wordlessly with so much compassion in my heart. I saw in that moment that he knew exactly why I was crying. They couldnt even look at the children. I guess it is hard to witness that kind of thing for people. Its so raw, so real, it touches a nerve and most people dont want their nerves to be touched. So I had tried to sell a live CD that Id made but none of the tourists could even look me in the eyes. I remember I started shouting FREE CDS FREE CDS does anyone want a FREE CD ... The money sickness was plainer to see than ever before in my life. My goodness me how we have become over this false paper currency. The only reason the shopkeepers were somewhat restrained with us was because I was there. These dalit kids would never be able to sing in groups like that without my white skinned presence. They would be beaten away with sticks and moved along. The kids told me this they said because you are here its ok. I saw it happen all the time. I was so emotional as I witnessed this madness unfold. This hopeless, brutal disconnection and discrimination amongst people. It was so clear to me that these kids are in need of love not hatred. They are amongst the most deserving of unconditional love and kindness in the world. We packed up and went to the jam session Id organised in Cookies. We walked along our little gang handing out the flyers I had made. Most of the kids were not allowed into cookies but I ensured that the musical guys who were not sniffing the glue came inside. I encouraged them to sing through the microphones and their little faces lit up with unbridled joy. The music went down well and they were offered some free rice and dhal. I had been in Kathmandu just a few nights but my adventure in the capital had only just begun. facebook/video.php?v=10151101511178397&set=vb.586748396&type=3&theater below is a video from that time when I first learned Resham Fariri. This is the stage where we played at Cookie Wallas
Posted on: Sat, 04 Oct 2014 23:14:12 +0000
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