Multiculturalism and Music

Il n'y a pas de hasard, il n'y a que des rendez-vous - Paul Eluard.

Also the first verse in Ouverture by Etienne Daho.

Babeldad is somewhere on a Swiss mountain doing what he loved doing best when we first met some sixteen years ago: looking at the night sky and photographing stars.

I, naturally, instead of going to bed early and catching up on some well-needed sleep, sit at the computer, typing furiously on the keyboard. And I listen to music.

Why Etienne Daho? Maybe because he used to live in Manchester and London. Maybe because he reminds me of some of the music I used to listen to when Babeldad and I first met. Or maybe because he was born and spent a large chunk of his childhood in Algeria, before being uprooted to France...

Music is powerful. It can bring up and trigger unexpected emotions. I do sometimes burst into tears when hearing or singing a song.

What is interesting is that being multicultural, I find myself responding to wildly different genres and languages. Below is a selection of memorable songs and artists to me, in different languages.

Dahmane El Harrachi	Yarrayeh (Arabic)
Abdelkader Chaou	Chehilet Laayani (Arabic)
Raina Rai	Mimouna (Arabic)
Nouara	Ammi azizen (Kabyle)
Enrico Macias	J'ai quitté mon pays and many others
Daft Punk	Something about us
Adriano Celentano	Don't play that song (that Italian accent!)
Carlos Santana	Moonflower

And too many songs by the Beatles and the Bee Gees to list!

Do you listen to music in different languages?

The Impossible Choice

Our daughters' school started offering paid music lessons back in Ocotber. A guitar teacher comes in during school hours, and offers one-to-one tuition to children who sign up to the class.

Now, the school also offers piano tuition. Because the lessons come with a hefty fee, I've asked DD1 to choose between guitar and piano lessons.

She looked at me tearfully this morning: "I cannot choose. I want to play guitar because of Papy, and I want to play piano because of tante Regina".

I can imagine lots of children being faced with a similar dilemma, though it is more emotionally charged in our case. It reflects our perpetual state of being torn as a family between two countries, two cultures, two identities. It's like being asked whether you like your father or your mother best.

I am probably reading too much into it. But DD1's soul-searching on this matter is way too familiar, too unsettling. Leaving my country and marrying outside of my culture have made me cling to what ties me back to my upbringing. I am also acutely aware of the multicultural identity of my children.
As parents, we constantly question and adapt how we bring our children up. I feel parenting is even harder for us MultiKultis as we juggle our own respective cultures in a country which is alien to both of us.

Oh Guitare Guitare

BK1 has taken up guitar lessons at school. The BabelDad is being all posh: "guitar players are so tacky! they sit around the fire and strum on their guitars to get the girls". He is unswerving, even when reminded that our own respective fathers play the guitar.

To counteract BK1's enthusiasm for the proletarian instrument, the BabelDad has splashed on a second-hand electronic piano, which apparently used to belong to Peter Gabriel; he even composed Sledge Hammer on it. Yeah right.

So, for the last week, we have been listening to Oh Guitare, Guitare by Enrico Macias. BK1 was intrigued by some unfamiliar words, reminding me how powerful songs can for learning a language:

Si j'ai mis dans ton coeur andalou

trop de soupirs à ton goût

chasse au loin tes sanglots superflus

This takes me back some thirty years ago; my parents have a collection of Enrico Macias' vinyls, and my dad often strums Enrico's songs on his guitar. Incidentally, I can't help being touched by Enrico's complex identity, a topic for another day...

The girls seemingly enjoy the oriental rhythms and catchy lines of Macias' music. They particularly like Les Filles de Mon Pays. I have told them that they are themselves some of Les Filles Enrico praises. After all, he is originally from Algeria, and they are Algerian too.

BK2's favourite bit of the live version of Les Filles de Mon Pays is a surprising verse at the end of the song... in Kabyle!

Sharing the music of my childhood with my own children gives me so much joy!

Musical snobbery?

The following post has got nothing to do with raising children multilingually. So feel free to skip it. I won't be offended, I promise :)

Some of my British friends are reliving their teenage years, as they, slowly but surely, approach the Big Four O. They attend gigs of bands I never heard of before: The Stone Roses, Inspiral Carpets, The Smiths...

I, too, am highly tempted to shell out £82 to go to a live concert. Of George Michael. George Michael, I hear my friends say? George flipping Michael? If I could, I would make fun of myself. I mean the guy has done some disgraceful stuff in his private life, and some of his music is not all that good, to say the least.
This is what my 37-year old self thinks.

Still, my 14-year old self  was literally in love with the guy. I had his posters all over my room, and was stalking every little piece of press mentioning him.

I am talking of a time where the only western modern music reaching a third-world teenager was that of the usual suspects: Madonna, Michael Jackson, Elton John, Sting, Whitney Houston etc.

I credit Kissing a Fool, Sacrifice and Like a Prayer for a lot of my 18/20 grade in English at my Baccalaureate. I spent many hours carefully writing the lyrics in my beloved lyrics books, and singing the songs at the top of my lungs, along videos on M6 and tunes on Radio Chaine 3.

Needless to say that on top of the mainstream "English" music, I listened to Polyphene, Raina Rai, Khaled, Ait Menguellet, Maatoub, Idir, Enrico Macias, Francis Cabrel, Jean-Jacques Goldman, Jacques Brel, les Negresses Vertes...

For someone who grew up in a third world country, I actually pride myself on my western musical "savvyness". I now listen to The Strokes, The Chemical Brothers and Crystal Fighters - mainly because this is what BabelDad listens to.

So, remember: next time you meet someone who likes George Michael, there is a good chance they have (at least) a second musical culture.

ps: I am thankful to my friends for helping me discover Northern-English culture. Let's hear it for Clint Boon and mushy peas!

Tataouine-Les-Bains

Today is Friday. We are at the breakfast table, chatting away before the school run. BK1 (7 in march) has been showing a particular interest in music lately. She wants to take her flute with her to play "Frère Jacques" at Golden time*.
I have been thinking of enrolling her at a music class, have been holding off as she will start music at school from September. Now I am thinking of finding a music teacher before then. The following conversation takes place, as usual, in a mix of arabic and french.

Me: "Would you like to have music lessons?"
BK1: "Maybe, yes"
Me: "Well, I will try to find a music teacher, somewhere in our village, not in Tataouine-Les-Bains"
BK1, puzzled: "Where?"

I was rolling with laughter. I had to explain that Tataouine-Les-Bains was an imaginary location to signify a small, very remote place.

It has to be said that Tataouine, a city in Tunisia, well and truly exists.  It used to be a penal colony during the French protectorate of Tunisia. Star Wars fans will recognise here the name of Luke Skywalker's home planet.

Tataouine-Les-Bains on the other hand is fictional. The appending of Les Bains (baths) is sarcastic as Tataouine is pretty arid and dry.

Equivalent expressions, that may be mistaken for real places in France:

• Aux cinq cents diables
• Clochemerle
• Perpète-la-Galette
• Perpète-les-Andouillettes
• Perpète-les-Oies
• Perpète-les-Olivettes
• Pétaouchnoc
• Trifouillis-les-Chaussettes
• Trifouillis-les-Oies
• Trou-en-Cambrousse

* Golden Time in a Primary school is a time for relaxation and fun as a reward for good behaviour during the week. Arrrgh!