I can’t help but to wonder about Osama Bin Lauden. I mean what keeps this guy going. Hunkered down with his army dissapearing. The whole world knows who you are, so you can’t never go shopping. Winter comming, and it’s getting harder to get to the food packets every day. Perhaps he could use a whistle at this time.
Yea, He could use one stuck through his skull. He killed a lot of people, you know. He doesn’t deserve a whistle.
Maybe he does deserve a nice 12 gage low whistle! He could play that nice air “Farewell to Kabul”!
[ This Message was edited by: Tom_Gaul on 2001-11-17 20:28 ]
When I was in Afghanistan there was
lots of music, achingly beautiful,
on the streets and in restaurants in Kabul. Especially popular
in Afghanistan was
a sort of folk fiddle that was played
brilliantly on the street; also drumming
was done wonderfully. I don’t remember
hearing flutes or whistles in Afghanistan, but they must be there. The music of that
part of the world sounds like
it goes back thousands of years.
Asia is full of music.
One day in India I came out of
a train station in the middle of I-remember-
not-where and found two boys
sitting crosslegged on the sidewalk
outside. They were about 10 years old,
one of them was playing a drum, the
other was playing a zither-like affair
with a plectrum, and they were both singing.
It was the most beautiful music I
have ever heard in my life. Confirmed
me as a street musician.
There are, of course, plenty of flutes
and whistles in India, including whistles
made of aluminum and heaven knows what
else. I had an aluminum whistle which I
now know is a G whistle, fingered exactly
like our whistles. I hitchiked around
India on trucks, finally I was sleeping
on the streets, along with millions of
other people. My principal concern was
that I would get stepped on in the night
by an elephant; religious processions
came through at all hours. One felt one was a grain of sand on a beach full of grains of sand, that one was nobody and everybody at once, and always there was music. I would
play along on my whistle with people
chanting and singing, become one of them,
playing all night with people with whom
I had ten words in common.
Afghanistan was a fierce place–
people spat on me, threw stones,
signed that I would have my throat cut
if I continued down this or that street
in Herat. On one occasions I ran out
of a mosque with a crowd of people
chasing me; it was because I wasn’t
a Moslem and it was
Ramadan. Yet they were oddly polite
about it–the stones were never
thrown very hard, the people who spat
were trying to pretend they weren’t
really doing it. The crowd stopped
at the perimeter of the mosque and we
all bowed to each other.
But in India I was often in tears
because I had never been treated so kindly
in my life, and often these were people
poorer than anything I had ever imagined. I sometimes walked from
city to city, and people fed me, took
me home. A truck would pull up beside me and a man would lean out and say: ‘Will
you do me the honor of meeting my mother!’
So home I would go to meet the toothless
old lady, a virtual goddess in her home,
who laughed like a child when I played
the whistle and who wanted to adopt me.
I was barefoot, I carried only a thin bedroll, a shoulder bag and a pouch with my passport in it and a lot of passport photos. Often, with people who knew no English, I would give them a photo
and write on the back of it, hoping that someday someone would translate it for them: ‘When I think of India I will remember your
kindness.’
[ This Message was edited by: jim stone on 2001-11-17 21:01 ]
Jim, exactly what does that have to do with bin Laden?
I’m not sure what it has to do with Osama, except for the perspective on the people of Afghanistan. However, it was a beautiful story.
bin Laden isn’t an Afghani, he was chased out of his country and ended up in afghanistan because that’s the only country that would tolerate him. I think he’s actually from saudi arabia.
But anyhow…
I don’t know what
OBL is doing right now or where he is,
but he may not need a whistle–certainly
there is no poverty of music in that
part of the world. A view of the
place through a lens other than a bombsight,
as I saw it in 1972.
[ This Message was edited by: jim stone on 2001-11-18 04:25 ]
Thats a beautiful story Jim,Thanks. Peace,Mike 
Great reminder, if we need one, that the terrorists are our enemies, not the Afghani people…thanks
Thanks, Jim. I very much appreciated your account of human cultural interaction through the eyes of a musician. I wonder if an eastern or arab brother/sister musician travelled thorugh the “west”, whether the experience would mirror yours.
Thanks to all. I’m afraid TV really
did us in as a musical culture of
the sort I found in Asia. Well,
we’re doing what we can about that,
aren’t we–you and I.
Also people who visit us from
countries that are pretty hostile
to the USA often come away struck by the
kindness of Americans. Happy Thanksgiving to all!
Apropos Jim’s comments, music in western societies has been a spectator sport for many decades now. I’m afraid the invention of recorded sound has done in the parlour piano, et al. Dance in this modern age is no longer an exercise in close-order drill; people just stand in each other’s vicinity and gyrate.
The result of all this is that people nowadays cannot keep a beat. I went to see a movie a couple of years back, in a movie house that has a HUGE Wurlitzer pipe organ in it. The instrument is really too big for the auditorium, and when the guy strikes a chord the walls bulge and the roof lifts a foot or two. Well, the organist was playing songs like Yankee Doodle, and the like, and the audience was ( trying ) to sing along. I counted no less than five ( 5 ) different pockets of people all not only singing off the beat, but off with respect to each other as well. It wasn’t as if they couldn’t hear the organ …
We on C&F are part of a group of people who refuse to forget how music is played out where people live. I think that’s very important.
Wow, Jim! I loved your story. I’m too shy to play my whistle in front of friends and here you’ve played for complete strangers and made your daily bread at it in strange countries. I envy you.
As far as Osama goes can a heart filled with so much hate be capable of the joy of music. If a whistle could cure all the hate in the world I’d say let’s start air dropping Clarkes and Sweettones now. But I’m afraid TelegramSam might be right and Osama would only understand a twelve guage one.
Peace on Earth, please and good will to all.
Jim,
I enjoyed your story very much and you certainly have some very wonderful memories. Although we can hate psychopaths like bin Laden and his crew, we must remember that, although they wrap themselves in the cloak of religion and ethnicity, they have no true country or religion except killing. They poison the area that they inhabit and are no reflection on the unfortunate people around them. I was never in Afghanistan but learned a lot about Muslim people and religion when I was stationed in Morocco, which at the time was still under French rule. I became good friends with two Arabs who worked on the base and, along with a friend from NY, the four of us took many weekend rides in the area on rented bikes. Our common language was French which I had learned to some degree having been taught by French nuns. I was anxious to learn some Arabic so they taught me to recite the five pillars of Islam which is the prayer that is recited from the towers during the call to prayer. They loved to have me recite it to friends that came by when we were sitting in town in a sidewalk café. This would usually result with the friend throwing his arms around me like I was his long lost brother! I don’t know if they thought I had converted to Islam or if they were happy that an American had enough respect for them to learn something about their culture.
This prayer did get me out of trouble once. I was walking alone in town at night during Ramadan when tempers sometimes wear thin. Some guy pulled up on a bike and started yelling at me in Arabic and acted like he wanted to fight. I don’t know what it was all about but I just started to recite my prayer and he looked at me in surprise and got back on his bike and rode away!
The Moroccan music that I heard was mostly songs accompanied by complex rhythms and simple melodies. I believe that the words are the important thing in their music. My friends also loved the Flamenco music from nearby southern Spain. I wish I could play for them the Flamenco that I learned many years later! I hope that we can put an end to terrorism and live as brothers and sisters in a world where the most serious debate is over music and whistles!
Best wishes, Tom
End terrorism? Nah. Not gonna happen. As long as there are people, there are going to be a few loonies out there to mess things up for the rest of us.
\
“…‘You are a silly little boy,’ said the Lord of the Flies, ‘just an ignorant, silly little boy.’
Simon moved his swollen tongue but said nothing.
‘Don’t you agree?’ said the Lord of the Flies, ‘you’d better run off and play with the others. They think you’re batty. You don’t want Ralph to think you’re batty, do you? You like Ralph a lot, don’t you? And Piggy, and Jack?’
Simon’s head was tiltled slightly up. His eyes could not break away and the Lord of the Flies hung in space before him.
‘What are you doing out here all alone? Aren’t you afraid of me?’
Simon shook.
‘There isn’t anyone to help you. Only me. And I’m the beast.’
Simon’s mouth labored, brought forth audible words.
‘Pig’s head on a stick.’
‘Fancy thinking the Beast was something you could hunt and kill!’ said the head. For a moment or two the forest and all other dimly appreciated places echoed with the parody of laughter. ‘You knew, didn’t you? I’m part of you? Close, close, close! I’m the reason why it’s no go? Why things are what they are?’
The laughter shivered again.
‘Come now,’ said the Lord of the Flies. ‘Get back to the others and we’ll forget about the whole thing.’
Simon’s head wobbled. His eyes were half closed as though he were imitating the obscene thing on the stick. He knew that one of his times was coming on. The Lord of the Flies was expanding like a ballon.
‘This is ridiculous. You know perfectly well you’ll only meet me down there–so don’t try to escape!’
Simon’s body was arched and stiff. The Lord of the Flies spoke in the voice of a schoolmaster.
‘This has gone quite far enough. My poor, misguided child, do you think you know better than I do?’
There was a pause.
‘I’m warning you. I’m going to get angry. D’you see? You’re not wanted. Understand? We are going to have fun on this island. Understand? We are going to have fun on this island! So don’t try it on, my poor misguided boy, or else–’
Simon found he was looking into a vast mouth. There was blackness within, a blackness that spread.
‘–Or else,’ said the Lord of the Flies, ‘we shall do you? See? Jack and Roger and Maurice and Robert and Bill and Piggy and Ralph. Do you. See?’
Simon was inside the mouth. He fell down and lost consciousness…”
(cookie for whoever tells me what that comes from)
Thanks, Tom, for the great story about Morocco, a place I’ve never been. Yes, wouldn’t it be nice to go back and play for
our old friends the things we can
play now?
I think I know where the quote is from, Sam,
but I’m desperately trying to lose
weight. On the other hand I’m a sucker
for cookies. Must go off and wrestle
with my soul.
Lord of the Flies is a great book, but it’s not exactly about terrorism. It’s about how humans cope with stress, extreme stress. If we let our stress get the best of us and shout “They, whoever they are, are wrong, and we, by right of our chosen Gods are right, therefore let’s kill the bastards”, then I don’t see how we’re much better than the people who do whatever they do in the name of their gods.
Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord. I’m not the lord of anything, so I’ll just do what I can to make things positive, to build, not tear down. I don’t say it’s a solution, but it’s better than going native.
I loved your story, jim, and I think we need a lot more of them told on both sides of this whole problem.
stimps
I heard that one of the things the Taliban did, when they came to power, was to outlaw music, or at least they outlawed all non-religious music. Perhaps someone could verify that. This ban would rob the general folk of much of thier heritage and culture.
I want to emphasize that many of the Taliban’s strongest supporters and enforcers are/were not native afghani. It seems that a lot of radicals, that were no longer welcome in there own country, came to afghanistan. Perhaps they came to help them in their struggles with Russia, but it seems that rather than free afghanistan, they re-enslaved it to thier own radical views.
I’m hoping that the tribal nature of afghanistan does not leave it open to this type of domination in the future. I hope that they can come up with some form of government that protects their heritage; that protects and nurtures thier diversity. It is my hope that they find some mechanism for self government that allows them to prosper, and work on restoring much of what has been lost in the decades of wars, domestic and foriegn, they have endured. I hope that the afghan people realize that yielding to any one sects desire to dominate the government, yielding for the sake of restoring order, just doesn’t work.
Some of the comments and actions of the afghans, since the Taliban have begun to fall, indicates they may have learned this painfull lesson. The cost of intolerance has ravaged thier country, perhaps they will find a new way, a way that expresses the beliefs of all of the afghan peoples, an islamic approach to asuring tolerance, freedom, an peace.
Hope and …
\
Enjoy Your Music,
Lee Marsh
[ This Message was edited by: LeeMarsh on 2001-11-19 11:14 ]
“Lord of the Flies” is about human nature in general, and how it is flawed. It is about the struggle between order and chaos within human society under all circumstances, not just under extreme stress. It has everything to do with terrorism, and all other forms of violent human behavior…