Kora Musician Baba the Storyteller

I couldn’t contain myself! I had to get this journal written before any of it lapsed from my mind. Earlier today I was visiting a school in San Bernardino, California. I was scheduled to visit the 2nd grade classrooms and teach on the concept of “Telling Your Own Story”. While I was walking into the school a young 5th grade student blocked my path and stood in front of me. She walked up to me and said, just as sweetly as she could, “I really like your clothes.” I was wearing the colorful robes I typically wear. She explained to me that she wears African Clothing also and that, and these are her words without any embellishment, “I am proud to be an African-American!”

Yes, the little girl actually walked up to me and said that she was proud to be African-American. I stood there for a second and for some reason sounds and images of Maya Angelou’s poem “Still I rise” raced through my mind. I felt like I needed to do something for this child or, at least, give her something. I asked her if she liked stories. She smiled up at me and said, “Yes, I love stories!” I then asked her if she would like me to play some music and share a story with her. Her eyes lit up like candles as she yelled, “Yes, Yes, Yes!” It was at this point that this excited young child turned, screaming yes and began running down the hallway of the school, away from me. I stood there a little dumbfounded but I could hear her screaming yes as she ran all the way from around the corner and down another hall. She hadn’t told me her name, I didn’t know what classroom she was in and I didn’t know if I could locate her to share the story I wanted to share with her. Anyway I went into the office, signed in and headed to share the day with my 2nd grader classes, accompanied by my friend and liaison, the wonderful and talented Amy Ruth Ellison (a gifted pianist and all around communicator).

After two visits to two separate 2nd grade classrooms I had a short break. I explained my predicament to Amy about the young girl I had met earlier, before school. Amy promised me that she would track down the child’s classroom and that I could fulfill my music and story debt if the teacher were willing to give up a little class time. It didn’t take much tracking for Amy to find the child. Her name is Noel and apparently she has somewhat of a reputation for being a bit of an extrovert. Amy and I agreed that after I finished with the second graders we would make a visit to her class.

Here’s another reason why I love what I do. During the third session of 2nd graders, Amy was with me but she wasn’t as engaged as she usually was. You see Amy is someone I can usually rely on to be as animated as the children. She the type of teacher/administrator, who sits down on the floor with you and the children, raises her hands with the children to answer questions and laughs out as loud, if not louder, than most of the children. During the third session she was seated at the teacher’s desk, head down and absorbed in writing. I didn’t question her; I just thought that today may have been a little different for her and she was doing what she needed to do.

Once I finished the third session, I started saying my goodbyes to the children when Amy stopped me. “Wait,” she said, “I have something I want to share.”

I sat down with the children and all of our eyes were on her. Amy explained to us that she had felt inspired by the music and storytelling that the class was experiencing and was motivated to write a limerick. She then asked, “May I read it to all of you?” The class, in unison gave her a resounding “Yes,” me included.

Amy stood in front of us and then said excitedly, “The title of my limerick is Asha’s Baba!”

You could have scooped my chin up off of the floor with a forklift. I smiled one of those smiles where the corners of your mouth are beating against your earlobes. You know what I’m talking about, one of those smiles that, when you try to contain it, it just gets wider and wider until the person seated next to you has to move.

The children and I sat quietly waiting the few seconds for her to read the limerick. Here is what Amy wrote:

“Asha’s Baba”

The African harp he will play,
Children will ask him to stay,
Words have great power,
Thoughts bloom like flowers,
Imaginations soar each day.

When Amy finished we all clapped, especially me, really loud. I loved it! I don’t know if or when I have ever inspired someone to write poetry but it felt better than good. Man! I mean really really good! I gave Amy a hug and told her that that was the most wonderful gift. I asked her if I could share it with some of my friends on the web. She consented and so here it remains for all to read.

Amy and I finished with the 2nd graders and made our way to the one 5th grade class that I wasn’t supposed to be visiting today. You know, contractually you’re scheduled to do something and do only that thing and once you’ve completed the contract you’re supposed to be done. Right? Well not if you are a storyteller who loves his work. I promised the young girl a story with music and by darn a story with music is what I was going to give her.

Her teacher consented to the interruption of her very busy schedule, for which I was especially grateful. When we entered the class I caught Noel’s eyes and she was absolutely beaming; that made me feel good. Due to the fact that my visit was an interruption to the schedule I tried to limit the amount of time I took up of the class. Before I got started Amy read the limerick to the class and told them that I had inspired it. When she finished, I did some interactive storytelling fused with music and song. When I completed the session and was about to leave the classroom, the children began clapping and wanting to ask questions. I didn’t want to take anymore of the teacher’s instructional time away so I handed the class over to Amy. Amy stood before the class, smiling a very wide mischievous smile and said, “Asha’s Baba inspired me to write another limerick; can I read this one to you also?” The group of eager 5th graders gleefully answered in unison with, “Yes!”

There I was again, grinning like “Mr. Ed.”

Amy began to read her limerick:

“The Kora”

Mandinka is a language he shares
For the African Harp Kora, he cares
Bahteeoh, Bahtee
All listen and see
Mankind he inspires and for life prepares.

The words “Bahteeoh, Bahtee” are actually words that I use which come from the Kru Language but I wasn’t about to stress it. I was riding high. I was feeling good. I don’t know if there is anything that could have brought me down after this visit. Amy and I left the classroom, she escorted me to my car and we parted with a really good hug.

Man do I love my work! I can’t imagine doing anything else.

Now, this is why I do what I do.

“Dooni, dooni kononi bè nyaga da.”