Probably my number one musical hero,
John Lee Hooker. I discovered him in my first year at university and was simply
blown away. These are scans of second hand LPs I bought back then and were
sitting in my house in Zimbabwe for the past 20 years. After some agonising I
decided against trying to ship them. I have mp3s and you can stream them if you
want. For the most part, as I get older, I prefer the versions that play in my
head. Bottled music, like bottled fruit, loses a lot in translation. So I just have
images, complete with my signature on the back. Partly a product of living in
communal houses.
His technique was deceptively simple and quite often he
would play through a whole song in one chord. This confused backing musicians
at times, who would try to go through the twelve bar changes based on his
vocals. The result can be quirky, but sets up a tension that is much more
effective than everyone just following a script.
He could make a single note shake you to your core, and
the tone of his voice... To die for. I always felt slightly embarrassed singing
his songs, but I had to try.
It's all about tone, both guitar and voice (not to
mention foot tapping) He could unleash a flurry of notes at speed, syncopate
the rhythm, lots of little tricks. But in the end it was tone. Raw emotion. We
all fall for virtuosity at times, especially when we're young, but ultimately
music was born out of deep emotional bonding, around a camp fire, somewhere in
Africa tens of thousands of years ago.
He could harness that power. In spades.
In 1983 I was 32 years old and I had
been in Zimbabwe for a year and a half, teaching building at Rusununguko
Secondary School. The long holidays were coming up and I had this idea to write
a little building workbook to express my ideas about injecting a bit more
creativity into the subject.
It had been conceived before independence as an option
for the less intelligent black students, preparing them for the idea of working
in the construction industry, or at least acquiring some skills that they could
use in the rural areas.
I don't want to be too hard on this. Given the
realities of the time it was an attempt by educators to offer something useful
to teenagers who had little chance of getting a desk job or going to
university. But the mood after independence was a bit different.
Certainly in my mind I wanted Building to be a viable
subject choice for students of all ability levels. That's who I had in my
classes and I taught that there are many different options within the building
sector to suit your abilities and interests. Also, whatever the future held for
you, a building course was a great way to learn to apply book learning to
practical situations. It could be Maths and Science, English, problem solving,
group collaboration. I thought it was a great integrative subject, and of
course I loved building.
Rusununguko was a Zimfep school. In theory at least
they aimed to give a balanced education with a mix of academic and practical
work. I took my draft booklet to the Zimfep head office in Harare and they
decided to run off a number of copies to distribute to schools.
I don't think they saw much use in the classroom, but
the idea was to stimulate thought and discussion among teachers at these
schools.
More pages from the building
workbook I wrote in 1983 after 18 months of hands-on teaching at an
experimental school on a farm in Zimbabwe. I was the only white face in that
community which inevitably gave me time to think about how I could weld
together my drawing skills, my time in UK laying bricks, and the teaching
experience.
There was no such thing as YouTube of course, nowhere
to go to see a visualisation of trowel skills for example. So I thought I was
doing something quite ground-breaking.
When I was doing my crash course in bricklaying in
Sheffield with Mr Cox he would give us little dry bonding problems out on the
practice ground. I just used to love this. Have you grasped the basic
principles well enough to figure out how to handle a new and unexpected
situation?
In Zimbabwe 7 or 8 years later, involved in an educational experiment and totally immersed in a new and challenging experience, I wanted to share the excitement of this hands-on problem solving with eager young African teenagers with a real hunger to learn.
It's so interesting to read something I wrote half a lifetime ago, paired with a cheeky little illustration to convey the ideal of Education With Production. Also the cover of a book I was using in my attempts to learn Shona. Comrade Andrew is the name I was known by at Rusununguko during my first two years in Zimbabwe.
Photographs from 1982 when we were
still trying to maintain the illusion that the students could build their own
school. I was a volunteer building teacher at Rusununguko, struggling with
class sizes of 80 at times.
Twenty minutes walking down to the "new
site." A mad scramble to grab the few tools available. 40 minutes of
chaotic work. Wash the tools. Walk back to the "old site" Zero chance
to develop skills in a systematic way.
After one term like this I fought hard to bring class
sizes down and involve the whole class in a learning experience. Adult teams
were brought in to build most of the buildings and some kind of sanity was
restored.
Having said all that, it was an amazing experience for
me to be immersed in a community of returned refugees, to be stretched to the
limits of my own abilities and to figure out how to ride the daily
roller-coaster.
Natural beauty of sunsets with the radio mast on a
distant ridge. Babysitting while working on a classroom block. My trademark
white boiler suit and the mattress on the floor which was my sleeping space for
the first year. Telltale overage students given a chance to complete secondary
school on retuning so Zimbabwe from camps in Mozambique.
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