Some Christmas vibes.

It is that wonderful time of the year again. It is funny to think that last year around this time, I had just put in my final application for the Renaissance Award and I hoped (but certainly didn't expect) that I would be selected. If we rewind time even further back - 15 years to be exact - it was in Benin that on December 25, 1999 Radio France International announced to my family that a coup had just deposed President Henri Konan Bedie of his functions. The new president, the General Robert Guei, was welcomed by most as "Papa Noel en treillis" (Santa Claus in Camouflage). He promised to "sweep" the government clean and be on his way. Unfortunately, he failed to keep his promises and was eventually killed on September 19, 2002 during the night that marked the beginning of the first Ivorian Civil War.

However, it is not to these sad events that I want to dedicate my Christmas blog post. It is to a song by Yode and Siro called Victoire (Victory). The song tells the story of a brawl between Jesus and Satan in the popular neighbourhoods of Abidjan (i.e. Good vs Evil). Even if my analysis of the song will be somewhat limited, I hope that through the lyrics and video you will be able to capture the complexity of this musical genre made evident through its use of rhythm, dance, satire and humour. The message is also so Christmas-sey! Also, notice how Jesus is depicted as white-skinned and Satan is depicted as black-skinned? Hopefully more on that sort of self-violence later...

In the meantime C'est cadeau! On s'enjaille un peu non? (This is a gift! Let's have little bit of fun!)

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all =)

ORIGINAL

TRANSLATION

Dieu a créé son monde avec tous ses habitants... tellement amour il a créé aussi Satan... mais dans la vie tu sais qui peut te frapper, tu ne sais pas qui va te tuer. Lui Satan, tellement mauvais il a blagué Adam et Eve et il a pris le monde de Dieu. Ça a chauffé! (Victoire) Ça a chauffé! (Victoire) Dieu pour sauver son monde il a envoyé son fils unique, avec un plan de bataille. Jesus est arrivé il a créé beaucoup d'églises. Assemblée de Dieu: attaque tous le maquis. Royaume de Dieu: attaque les cinémas. Protestant-Baptistes: Eux ils se promènent pour prêcher. Tellement fâché il a créé des églises aux bords des plages, la bas on porte pas chaussures.  Ça a chauffé! (Victoire) Ça a chauffé! (Victoire) Un jour moi je passais c’est là Satan il m’a appelé. Il dit: “Jésus a les foutaises. Il a pris mes maquis. Il a pris mes cinémas. Aujourd’hui tout va finir” Satan est arrivé dans un Kimono noir, Timberland dans son pied. Son nez était percé. Tellement digba il ressemblait à Goliath, Goldorak. On dirait un cyborg. Une lumière jaillit c’est la Jésus est arrivé, dans un Kimono blanc, Sebago dans son pied, cheveux bien coiffes.   Tellement petit, j’ai dit Satan va le tuer. Ça a chauffé! (Victoire) Ça a chauffé! (Victoire) Jeux de jambes de Jésus, jeux de jambes de Satan, il n’y  a pas eu ouverture. Le gnaga était serré. Coup de pied de Satan, Jésus a bloqué. Coup de tête de Jésus, Satan a dribblé. Le gnaga était mortel. Ça a chauffé! (Victoire) Ça a chauffé! (Victoire) Tellement ça a chauffé, tout Adjamé était sorti. Abobo est venu. Koumassi était présent. Même le Gbata était témoin. Ça a chauffé! (Victoire) Ça a chauffé! (Victoire) Jeux de jambes de Jésus Ouverture de Satan Jésus n’a pas Dindin, un petit crochet. Le Goliath a pris KO. Oh Victoiiiiire!

God created His world with all its inhabitants, so full of love he also created satan... but in life you know who can beat you, but you don't know who will kill you. Satan was so evil that he misled Adam and Eve and stole God's world. It was a heated battle (Victory) It was a heated battle (Victory) In order to save his world, God sent His only son with a battle plan. Jesus came down and created lots of churches. Assembly of God: Attacked all the bars. Kingdom of God: Attacked all the cinemas. Protestants/Baptists: Those went around preaching. He was so angry that He created churches by the beaches where they don't wear shoes.  It was a heated battle (Victory) It was a heated battle (Victory) One day I was walking by, that’s when Satan called me over. He said: “Jesus is so disrespectful! He took over my bars. He took over my cinemas. Today we will settle this.” Satan came in black Karate Gi. He had Timberlands on his feet. His nose was pierced. He looked so strong, he looked like Goliath, or Grendizer; he looked like a cyborg. A light flash, and then Jesus appeared in a white Karate Gi, He was wearing Sebago shoes. His hair was neatly combed.  He was so tiny, I said Satan will kill him. It was a heated battle (Victory) It was a heated battle (Victory) Jesus does some footwork, Satan does some footwork. No opening. The fight was tight. Satan throws a kick, Jesus blocks! Jesus tries a headbutt, Satan avoids it. This fight was deadly. It was a heated battle (Victory) It was a heated battle (Victory) It was such a heated battle, that all of Adjame came out. Abobo came out. Koumassi was there. Even the Gbata witnessed it. It was a heated battle (Victory) It was a heated battle (Victory) Jesus does some footwork, Opening from Satan. No hesitation from Jesus He throws a little hook, The Goliath is KO! Oh Victorrrryyyyy!

Full song with lyrics available here: 

"Neo: I know ethnography… Morpheus: Show me."

If you’re a Matrix fan like me, you will probably recall which scene of the original movie the title of this post refers to. If not here is a little refresher: 

This past semester has probably been the most challenging one of my entire academic career. Between the unreasonable amounts of readings and writing I had to complete each week; the intellectually stimulating discussions with my peers; work; my own research and my ethics review application; I am surprised to have made it this far without giving up!

In September, I was catapulted into a class in which, I realized with profound horror, I was going to be a minority in every aspect (academic background, race, gender, age etc.). My initial fears were confirmed when I was first assigned 6 papers to read and "prepare" for the next class’ discussion. I had never been asked to read 80 pages of heavy theory on such short notice (one week). Moreover, my progress was seriously impeded by my having to look up every other word in the dictionary. While I was delighted to finish the last article in the 30 minutes that preceded the beginning of class; my excitement quickly faded when I realized that even though I had read the texts, I certainly hadn’t "prepared" them. My peers had come organized with detailed notes on each article complete with excerpts and references ready to answer the questions that had been pre-circulated. I, on the other hand, sat blankly staring at the papers I had read, yet never bothered to highlight, tab or annotate. At that moment I felt utterly inadequate; I was ready to throw in the towel and cry that the social sciences weren’t for me. However, with the support of my classmates and professor I managed to muster enough confidence to persevere on this foreign path. With each passing week, I understood with more clarity what the expectations of the class were. With each passing week, I also slowly began developing a different way of looking at the social field.

This new worldview would force me to trade theoretical and empirical equations – which until then were for me the only acceptable way to describe my environment – for more nuanced approaches to generating knowledge. I came to learn that, unlike in engineering where the behavior of materials could be predicted to various degrees of accuracy and error could be quantified, human behavior was significantly more complex, and thus less readily predictable. To further complicate things, the immeasurable amounts of interconnected variables affecting individual and social agency make the social scientist’s – and more particularly the ethnographer’s– task especially difficult.

So what exactly is ethnography? To be quite frank, I am not sure I can give a straightforward answer to the question. Some respected scholars might also not be able to. It seems to be one of those disciplines that everyone intuitively understands and practices, yet cannot easily define. At first, I understood ethnography to be synonymous with fieldwork, but I was very wrong. While the two are often hard to dissociate, I came to realize that ethnography is a very particular way of doing, reporting and analyzing fieldwork.  By using his/her body as a learning apparatus, the ethnographer attempts to access the social database in order to decode elusive messages and translate them to a non-trained audience. However as it is the case with language translation, cultural translation is often dependent on the translator’s skill and sensibility to nuances, as well as by the inherent compatibility between the language pairs.

This is what I am hoping to do over the course of my research. Understand Zouglou and Coupe-Decale as seen through the eyes of a variety of actors (musicians, scholars, producers and consumers etc.) and translate it to outsiders. I am hoping that by immersing myself in the culture, I can go beyond an analysis of the songs’ lyrics and uncover meanings encoded within the dances, the lifestyles and the discourses while paying attention to their relation to politics. I am hoping to hang out in universities, libraries, Afrobeat nightclubs (in Paris), dance schools, concerts, maquis (open-air bars in Abidjan) etc. to undertake my research. These places will constitute my laboratory and my body will be the instrument.

So far, this Renaissance experience has forced me to explore my own uncharted intellectual limits and completely kicked me out of my comfort zone. I am set to leave Canada on January 14 and return on June 17 of next year (God willing). As I quite literally put my other life on hiatus, I am excited to explore the opportunities that this new one has to offer. My adventures are set to potentially take me to France, Belgium, the UK, Cote D’Ivoire and possibly other places. You can expect a new and improved Juste upon my return!

Petit Yode and L'enfant Siro's "President" - An ethnographic analysis

President by Petit Yode and L'enfant Siro (2002)  

In 2002, it was against a background of revolts, rebellion and political turmoil that president Laurent Gbagbo was sworn into office. As the release of their album was coincidental with these events, it may have seemed fitting for Petit Yode & L’Enfant Siro to include a song discussing the socio-political conditions of Ivory Coast at the time, specifically as they related to Laurent Gbagbo’s rise to power. Even though the song only offers a limited amount of mostly textual data, accessible only through its lyrics, there is still value in dedicating efforts to study it so as to better comprehend the complex socio-political context of Ivory Coast in that particular era (i.e. 2002-2010).

Prior to diving into a semantic analysis of the song’s lyrics, it may be more important to initially note the genre in which this song is performed. This song is in fact delivered in the Zouglou genre, a musical style noted for being contentious and used to denounce the ills of society. Yet, the song’s message seems to oppose this convention since the artistes appear to offer their support the newly elected president. The phrase “C’est toi mon president” (translated: you are my president) chorused through the song suggests evidence of such support. As the artistes juxtapose these genre conventions against this non-dissenting message, questions immediately come to mind. Is this a simple appropriation of the genre for other purposes (i.e. the stage of social reconstruction as described by Emielu in his social reconstructionism model[1])? Or were there perhaps other social and political forces present in Ivory Coast at the time that limited the autonomy Yode & Siro’s discourse?

It is worth noting that even though the country was divided between government-controlled and rebel factions, the discursive space offered through music at the time remained heavily controlled and influenced by the government, even if indirectly.  Thus, any musician (or artist for that matter) who openly criticized the established power was automatically labelled as “anti-patriotic” and was quickly ostracized from society. Iconic musician Tiken Jah Fakoly and writer Ahmadou Kourouma are examples of such artists who confronted Laurent Gbagbo’s politics and were subsequently forced into exile. As the country became partitioned due to conflict, so did the music. Songs produced during that period fell into one of two categories “Loyalist/Patriotic” music and “Other” music.

This song may be said to belong to the “Other” category but also forms part of an emerging genre of popular African music termed by Daniel Künzler and Uta Reuster-Jahn as the “Mr President: musical open letter” (Künzler & Reuster-Jahn, 2012). If these artistes expected to gain any form of government-sponsored airplay, they needed to exercise a certain level of obligatory self-censorship. However, if actions can at times speak louder than words, one can speculate that their decision to sing this song in the contentious Zouglou style is perhaps a shy, yet muted expression of resistance against the new political order. Many Zouglou artistes chose, after all, to either remain silent during this period or switch to the less lyric-centric styles (e.g. Coupe-Decale).

By using heavy metaphors associated with sports (most likely soccer), the song describes the new president as an ex-, and heavily critical spectator of the political scene who has now been bestowed with referee duties.  The performers warn him that all the criticisms he used to cast on other political actors will in turn be cast on him.

Original	Translation
Aujourd’hui tu es l’arbitre et tu es sur le terrain/Il y a d’autres dans les tribunes qui crient sur toi comme tu faisais auparavant/Alors ne dis pas qu’on veut te tuer	Today you’re the referee et you’re on the pitch. There are others in the stands yelling at you like you used to do to others. So don’t say that they’re trying to stress you out

The choice of soccer as a metaphor to describe the political situation may be interpreted as an homage to the popularity of the sport in Ivorian society, but also as a translation apparatus to render to complex political context accessible to an audience who may not fully understand it. While this song is mostly rendered in French and can hence be understood by any person with an average understanding of the language, it is important to take Nouchi (Ivory Coast slang) into consideration in our analysis. A particular adage resonates throughout the piece. It says “Il faut nous excuser mais en Zouglou on dit “Gbeh est mieux que Dra” (translated: You must excuse us but in Zouglou we say “Gbeh is better than Dra”). This saying remained cryptic to me for a long time until I solicited the help of a few Ivorian friends in my attempts to decipher its meaning. Despite the variety of answers I received, they all suggested an interpretation along the lines of “It is better to be told the hard truth now, than to find oneself in an embarrassing situation at a later date”. “Gbeh” could then be ostensibly refer to the “hard truth” while “Dra” refers to “embarrassing situations”. If words used in the context of Zouglou language do not share a one-to-one relationship with English, one should then exert caution in interpreting (linguistically, ethnographically or otherwise) lest the true meanings remain persistently elusive.

Even if this song appears to be directed towards Laurent Gbagbo, his name is never uttered. The song thus becomes liberated from the historical context of its occurrence. It is a song that may have originally been directed to one person, yet remains universally applicable to any African president who may have gained power through “calamitous circumstances”. The reminder below is testament to this claim:

Original	Translation
Tu te rappelles President, ce sont les marches qui t’ont amene au pouvoir Mr le president ne pertube pas les marches	Mr President, you must remember that you came to power through protests. Therefore Mr President, don’t suppress protests.

Today 12 years after its original release, the relevance of this cautionary song is all the more emphasized as the ex-president of neighboring Burkina Faso, Blaise Compaore, was recently deposed through popular uprising after a 27 year reign. The new acting head of state, Isaac Zida, may very well benefit from the same warnings articulated in this music. Whereas archival records often offer an immobile depiction of the state of society at a given time, the bifurcated aspect of this song as a contextual depiction of socio-political landscape of Ivory Coast circa 2002, and as an independent piece that can transcend spatial and temporal boundaries makes it especially compelling. It therefore needs not be situated in a particular geographical context but rather amongst a set of given social circumstances which serve to highlight its relevance.

Bibliography

Emielu, A. (2011). Some theoretical perspectives. Popular Music, 371–388.

Kohlhagen, D. (2005). FRIME, ESCROQUERIE ET COSMOPOLITISME: Le succès du « coupé-décalé » en Afrique et ailleurs. Politique africaine, 92-105.

Künzler, D., & Reuster-Jahn, U. (2012). “Mr. President”: Musical Open Letters as Political Commentary in Africa. Africa Today, 89-113.

Yode, P., & Siro, L. (2002). President. Abidjan.

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[1] Social reconstruction: The main features of this stage include: multiple modes of expressions which may or may not directly derive from the original core essence; attempts at fashioning out a new direction and a new core essence for the product; and attempts at locating the musical stream within a new socio-economic, artistic and cultural space. (Emielu, 2011)

Don Mills to Kennedy: Interactions between strangers on the TTC - An exercise in participant observation.

So I'm not sure if I mentioned this before, but this blog is about a student with an engineering background hoping to complete an anthropological project. What exactly is he thinking? Thankfully, I have great guidance from Prof. Andrew Gilbert! I currently sit in his Ethnography and Research Method class and he sometimes makes us do "weird" things. Like sit and observe people on the subway for example! Below is a report I produced as a result of one of those exercises. The technical term is participant-observation by the way. There, have some anthropological knowledge; you're welcome. In other news, the president of Burkina Faso has fled to Ivory Coast. Seriously hoping that this doesn't dig out what seems to be a buried hatchet. More on that later.  

I still had not clearly conceptualized my topic of exploration when I set out to ride the TTC subway system on Friday afternoon looking for “interactions between strangers”.  Questions swirled around in my mind as I nervously walked across the parking lot that connects Fairview Mall to the Don Mills subway station. What exactly were these “interactions” that I was supposed to observe? How would I differentiate between strangers and non-strangers? What if people thought I was creepy? What were the factors that would determine whether or not my experience was successful? As I reflected upon these questions, the first obstacle of my trip presented itself: I did not have any change. Fortunately the attendant, in an unexpected display of sympathy and cooperation, granted me a free ride. The gods of ethnography must have been on my side.

Still unsure of what I was supposed to study, I climbed down the stairs leading to the train platform and took a mental snapshot of my surroundings. Undoubtedly, the architectural features of the space quickly attracted my engineering mind; I instinctively noted the use of acoustic baffles in the ceilings to mitigate reverberation, the gigantic scale of the corridors, the ceramic tile mosaics used to garnish the walls (probably selected for their ease of maintenance) etc.

Moments later, the train came hissing in and some patrons debarked whilst others boarded. For the first time in almost 8 years, I rediscovered the remarkable order and seamlessness with which this process occurred. Contrasting this with experiences of aggressive pushing and shoving necessary to negotiate my way around places back home in Benin, I took note of this convention of cooperation that exists within the TTC ridership culture.

From Don Mills to Sheppard-Yonge station, I decided to focus my attention on a pair of friends (let’s call them Friend #1 and Friend #2) that occupied the seat across from me. Their body posture betrayed their familiarity as they practically leaned against each other for balance while tapping away at their phones. The polarity I observed in this interaction – perceptually distant yet physically intimate – motivated my questions for the remainder of my trip.

How do TTC riders create distance or intimacy in the bustling environment of the subway system? How is the concept of personal space renegotiated in a setting that constantly attempts to upset it?

With a more focused problem in mind, I hopped onto the stainless steel clad train that serves the Yonge-University-Spadina line in search of more clues. On board, I was quickly distracted by the clear unobstructed views of this train and how futuristic the interior felt. The absence of partitioning walls between cars transformed the train into a clanging worm-like machine with ends extending indefinitely in either direction. Across from me, I noticed another twosome (Friend #3 and Friend #4), this time actively engaged in conversation. Despite my relatively close range I was incapable of discerning any words. The racket created by the train and other ambient sources of noise were remarkably effective at masking speech and creating privacy in the process. Using this trick, Friend #3 and Friend #4 could insulate themselves from the rest of us by naturally adjusting the volume of their voices in order to remain unintelligible. 

In spite of its relative openness, the train created an environment that allowed patrons to create clusters of immediacy or separation as necessary. By means of simple codes, individuals could either create physical/social barriers to isolate themselves from the rest of the train (use of earphones, video games, empty “buffer” seats, sleep, body language etc.) or engage in behaviours that promoted social interaction that shatter those barriers in the process (discourse, physical proximity, eye contact etc.)

Even though my original itinerary was set to take to me all the way to Union Station then back, I impulsively detrained at Bloor-Yonge station. So far, every train I had boarded had not really been congested and I started recognizing that my seated position probably restricted my ability to collect sufficient data.

Just as I had hoped, this new train was densely packed and no longer had any available seats. I was now forced to stand along with the other patrons, conceding to them more of my space and stealing a little bit of theirs too. However effective this new vantage point was, it also presented some practical difficulties. Writing in a notebook while simultaneously holding onto the grab bars for balance required a great deal of dexterity that I hopelessly lacked. My phone thus became my new notepad. At this point it dawned on me that I was no longer simply observing people’s behaviours on this train but was now a full-fledged participant.

In fact, cell phone/tablet usage is a very prominent method of creating social barriers on the train. More than simply means of distraction, these gadgets offer an opportunity to their users to reclaim some of the space they forfeit to other patrons by way of immersion in a profoundly personal realm. The claustrophobia induced by the train environment can hence be mitigated since physical barriers cannot always be practically constructed.

The use of accessories such as earphones further enables individuals to “trade” additional physical space in exchange for a deeper immersion in their personal worlds. In these instances, unintentional physical contact which is usually followed with prompt apologies is more readily tolerable and is even sometimes ignored. 

My journey came to an end at Don Mills station, my original departure point. The empty station where I had started my voyage was now swarming with commuters eager to begin their weekend. I understood the importance of the vast corridors as I re-observed this space now stressed by all this busyness.

My experience riding the TTC subway certainly gave me some insight into the instruments used by TTC riders to construct or deconstruct social and physical barriers in the subway environment. However, it also did raise some questions that are beyond the scope of a 2-hour exercise or a 2-page essay. For example what is the significance of puzzles and other cognitive training games such as Bejeweled, Tetris or Blocks for TTC riders? How do unexpected distractions caused by actors such as toddlers captivate attention and contribute to the destruction of the barriers that have been constructed by individuals? Those are all questions that could require additional trips and further investigation. 

My first attempt at something remotely anthropological...

Here is my first attempt at defining a research topic/question for my project. I'm sure this will need further refining, but it will be interesting to revisit this in a couple of months and examine how far away from my original plan my final output actually strayed.


Assignment: Write a statement, of no more than two single-spaced pages, outlining a topic, the social scientific problem it presents, some ruling question/s, and a specification of field site. The subject matter may be your research project or an imaginary, but otherwise feasible project. 

Since the early 1990s, Ivory Coast has faced an amalgam of political, economic and other forms of societal conflict. Even though the breakout of the civil war resulting in the partition of the country in 2002 is considered by many as the highpoint of this tension (and hence the focus of the greatest amount of academic inquiry), the reality is that Ivory Coast, like many countries that have been disturbed by civil conflict, moved and continues to move through a multiplicity of phases that have shaped its current socio-political landscape. Throughout these transformations, popular music has been recognized to have played a substantive role (McGovern, 2011). In this context, “popular music” is recognized as distinct from “traditional music” in what Austin Emielu defined as ”African pop”, “a social concept which is constructed or created through prevailing socio-historical processes” (Emielu, 2011). As such, the emergence of the Zouglou genre in the early 90s and Coupé-Décalé in 2002 - both periods being coterminous with heightened levels of social tension in the country - can be seen as forms of communal response to the perceived imbalances and injustices that these styles were constructed to confront.

This assumption is made evident through a study of the lyrics and themes of the music that has been produced during these periods; however, as noted by Rob Rosenthal and Richard Flacks, song meanings as constructed by audiences are a factor of several complex dynamics including genres, musical codes, sonority, live performance, artistes’ images etc. Lyrics are therefore not equal to the message received by the audience (Rosenthal & Flacks, 2011). This difficulty with semantics is further compounded by the impossibility to positively measure the impacts of these musical styles on the nurturing or resolution of the struggles out of which they arose. In this light, the use of ethnography as a set of methods and framework to present and understand the culture and motivations of the actors engaged in the structuring of the musical, social and political landscape of Ivory Coast seems to be a necessary task. Moreover, by studying the divergences of these two particular musical styles (i.e Zouglou and Coupé-Décalé) one might be able to unmask convergences and thus abstract generalizations on the relationships that exist between music and social dynamics, in particular war and peace.

Zouglou can easily be seen as a medium through which marginalized youths have asserted themselves as a group, and have created a discursive space to communicate their demands for social inclusion and intergenerational justice to a national audience (Schumann, 2012). In this respect, Zouglou has already been the subject of an extensive body of academic study and has since received the most of attention. However, Coupé-Décalé’s function in the conflictual relationships that have shaped the country’s socio-political landscape since 2002 is less readily definable. Described by some as a form of social escapism (Boka, 2013) and a mostly apolitical musical style (Kohlhagen, 2004), existing studies of Coupé-Décalé seem to view it through a purely musicological or sociological lens, with most focusing on the ostensible meanings recovered from an analysis of the song lyrics and the lifestyles that the artistes aim to project. This music is seen by many scholars and journalists as a way for Ivoirians to merely cope with the instability that debilitated their country during that period. In 2005, Vladimir Cagnolari wrote “For a few hours, the room was transformed into an ephemeral festive temple of recklessness and "fun" that confronted the socio-political problems of a country that is still waiting for peace. …In a musical landscape dominated by patriotic and military music, Coupé-Décalé arrives as a breath of fresh air to forget the difficult context in which Ivorians are living.” (Cagnolari, 2005)

However, if we agree with Rosenthal and Flacks in their claim that meanings in music are complex and dynamic things associated with a myriad of factors that are at times out of the artistes’ control, we can then reform Coupé-Décalé as a form of subliminal political confrontation whose concealed meanings need to be uncovered. By viewing Coupé-Décalé as more than mere music, but rather as a subculture of sorts with actors influencing it from both sides of its boundaries, we can attempt to delayer it and thus better comprehend the concealed political undertones it carries. Why for example, one might ask, did the original perpetrators of the movement (the ‘Jet Set’ as they called themselves) organize themselves as a form of “government”? (President Douk Saga, Papa Ministre etc.)  Was this purely coincidental? Or was it the result of a conscious (or subconscious) process that attempted to reclaim the political order of a country whose elected officials were failing to perform their duties.

In attempting to resolve the problems outlined above, spending time in the field is a necessary process that will be characterized with data collection and other means of empirical research. As such, the “field” will be defined as the landscape through which this music was birthed and the environment that contributed to its evolution. It may therefore be challenging to circumscribe this field to a definitive spatial locality since these two musical styles are transcontinental in both their inception and proliferation. Zouglou was indeed born in the harsh conditions of Ivory Coast’s universities but “exported” to Europe, while Coupé-Décalé was spawned in posh Parisian nightclubs and “imported” back to Ivory Coast. These styles can consequently be said to have had both “local” and “foreign” impacts, however defined from the frame of reference that one decides to take. The site of this project will thus span the same global expanses as the music it aims to analyze and occur both in France and in Ivory Coast, more specifically in Paris and Abidjan. Within these cities, any institution that may lend itself to the promotion of a discursive, observational or participatory process between the investigator and the identified actors will serve as a space to undertake research. Examples of such institutions range from university campuses to nightclubs, and from formal governmental bodies to concert venues.

As noted earlier, Zouglou and Coupé-Décalé were born amid troubling circumstances in Ivory Coast. Even though it is daunting to readily identify the specific impacts of these musical styles on the socio-political situation of the country, one can irrefutably claim that these genres did have an impact. By using ethnography to collect data on these influences from a varied collection of actors ranging from artistes to scholars, an account of the methods with which the musical arts can be used as a form of defense against societal angst can be created. This research would fit into a larger body of work aimed to better understand the nexus between music and social transformations as seen from an offensive (music as a catalyst to press for social change) or defensive (music as a means to combat external forces attempting to reshape the status quo) standpoint.

References

Boka, A. (2013). Le sens d'un genre musical en Afrique. L'Harmattan.

Cagnolari, V. (2005, 04 18). RFI Musique - Archives. Retrieved 10 12, 2014, from RFI: http://www.rfimusique.com/musiquefr/articles/064/article_15448.asp

Emielu, A. (2011). Some theoretical perspectives. Popular Music, 371–388.

Kohlhagen, D. (2004). FRIME, ESCROQUERIE ET COSMOPOLITISME, Le succès du « coupé-décalé » en Afrique et ailleurs. Politique africaine, 92-100.

McGovern, M. (2011). Making War in Cote d'Ivoire.

Rosenthal, R., & Flacks, R. (2011). Playing for Change : Music and Musicians in the Service of Social Movements. Paradigm Publishers.

Schumann, A. (2012). A GENERATION OF ORPHANS: THE SOCIO-ECONOMIC CRISIS IN CÔTE D’IVOIRE AS SEEN THROUGH POPULAR MUSIC. The Journal of the International African Institute, 535-555.

Portrayal of Paris in the social imaginary of Zouglou music.

“A Paris quand tu vois un blanc, il est sale mais sa maison est propre. Mais quand tu vois un noir il est propre mais sa maison est saaaaale…”

“In Paris when you see a white person, he is dirty but his house is clean. But when you see a black person, he is clean but his house is diiiiirrrrtyyyy…”

Since the inception of my project, I have often received commentary on the benefits that such an experience would provide. Yet, I cannot help but notice that to many of my interlocutors, their attraction to this project revolves mostly around France.  Comments such as “I can’t believe you will get to tour Europe for a whole year!” or “I really wish I could come enjoy some red wine on the streets of Paris with you” seem to drive this point home. Despite my attempts to mention that my European leg is followed by an even longer African one, I realize that the forces associated with North America’s fascination with Europe constantly undermine my efforts. Indeed, Paris is the object of much wonderment and admiration in many cultures. Love, romance, architecture, food and wine are just some of the prevalent archetypes associated with this city in the western social imaginary. Similarly some of the same motifs are also present in African societies (possibly due to globalization); however, there are other peculiar ones that are specific to their respective contexts.

The years 1999 and 2000 can arguably be described as the “confirmation” years for Zouglou music. It is during these years that Magic System released their 1er Gaou hit song which went on to top several African, European and American music charts (see previous blog post here: http://renaissancejuste.blogspot.ca/2014_02_01_archive.html). This success validated Zouglou as a musical style and provided a certain degree of exposure to other artists. During this period, several albums featured at least one song with Paris as its central theme.  Magic System’s Un gaou à Paris (Translated: An idiot in Paris) or Secret D’Africain (translated: African secret) or Petit Yodé and L’enfant Siro Bengué (Paris in Ivorian street slang) are all examples of such songs.

A striking characteristic that a lot of these songs share is the representation of Paris (possibly synonymous with France) as a form of societal aspiration. In Un gaou à Paris, Magic System recounts the challenges of an immigrant’s first day in Paris. The lyrics provide insight and stark observations on the realities of life in the West as seen from an outsider’s perspective.  Asalfo (the group’s lead) sings about things ranging from the cold weather to the “coldness” of the people.

Translation	Original
I left Abidjan and it was 34 deg C In Paris it was 2 deg C. … You don’t smoke yet you see smoke coming out of your mouth … What kind of country is this where people don't greet each other? Everyone seems to be in a hurry.	Je quitte Abidjan à 34 deg Arrive à Paris, 2 deg … Tu ne fumes pas, fumée sort de ta bouche … C’est quel pays où il n’y a pas bonjour Tout le monde est pressé

While most of the song deals with the disillusionment of the gaou faced with the harsh realities of European life, it begins with the following lyrics:

Translation	Original
My dream was to go to Paris I didn’t know what was waiting for me over there.	Mon rêve c’était d’aller à Paris Je ne savais pas ce qui m’attendait

This immigration “dream” accurately reflects the ambitions of many Ivorian and (without fear of over-generalization) possibly West African youths. Looking back at my experiences growing up in Benin, Ivory Coast and Ghana, Paris in French speaking countries, and London or “Yankee” (US) in English speaking countries, unquestionably had an important symbolic function in the social fabric in these regions. As youths, we all aspired to eventually further our education “abroad”.  Even though this was partly due to our countries lacking the proper educational infrastructure to accommodate our academic ambitions, I also believe that we unknowingly succumbed to some of the latent effects of colonialism. To us, “abroad” offered more than a space to pursue post-secondary education; it was also a means to socially assert ourselves amongst our peers.  In school, kids who had spent summers in those cities were considered with higher regard than kids who spent their vacations at home. Moreover, clothes and electronics purchased “abroad” held intrinsically more value in our eyes (It is fair to note that in certain instances such items were either simply not available on our local markets or their cost was prohibitive). In short, “abroad” was always considered better than “here”.

The pretense of Paris (France, Europe, The West, “abroad”, however you want to call it.) as a perfect place is strong in the social imaginary of young West-Africans. It is this notion that Petit Yodé and l’Enfant Siro attempt to combat in their song Bengué.

Translation

Original

Since our childhood, people keep telling us that France is this dreamland, a place full of fun, a true earthly paradise. But you know that white people don’t pick names at random. If they call you Sylvester Black, it means you’re black, or Francis The Goat it means you probably look like a goat. They named their country France. When as black people we heard the word “francs”, our minds went   directly to money. However, when they say “France”, “francs” are really for white people and suffering (soufFRANCE) for black people.

Depuis on est petit, on nous parle de la France comme pays de rêve, pays de loisir, un paradis sur terre. Vous même vous savez, blanc il ne donne pas nom cadeau. S’il t’a appelé Sylvain le Noir c’est que tu es noir, Francois Mouton, tu ressembles à mouton. Ils ont appele leur pays France, nous les noirs quand on a entendu “francs” directement on a pensé à l’argent Pourtant quand on dit la France, “francs” là c’est pour les blancs, et la souffrance pour les noirs

With obligatory humour and poignant observations, they attempt to demystify the myth built around Paris in Ivorian youth culture. Paris is not necessarily portrayed as a bad place, it is depicted instead as a place with its own set of challenges (racism, hard labour, culture shock etc.) that a young immigrant might not necessarily be equipped to tackle. The phrase “Bengué est dur, Paris est dur comme caillou” (translated: Paris is hard, Paris is as hard as a rock) echoes throughout the song as if to warn potential immigrants of the hardships and tribulations that await them on the other side. The song concludes with “À Paris là-bas faites la différence parce que il y a les bons djossi” (translated: The difference in Paris is that there are some good “Mcjobs”). With this, Yodé and Siro acknowledge that despite all of its flaws, Paris can still be a city ripe with opportunities for hard working immigrants. Yet, their key point remains: Paris is not an easy city.

In less than 90 days, I will also begin my very own experience in Bengué. Between the North American and African influences that have shaped my perceptions, I have developed a complex notion of this city which makes me apprehensive. However that doesn’t matter since I will probably develop new opinions as my visit comes to an end. One thing will probably remain unchanged though : Paris will still be expensive as hell!

Confronting Ebola with music and dance?

Even though my project is subtitled "Confronting civil unrest through music and comedy in Ivory Coast", today civil unrest is far less relevant in Ivory Coast (and possibly in the West African sub-region) than the Ebola virus. Unless you've been cut from all civilization for the past few months, you are probably aware of the highly infectious (not highly contagious) disease. Mortality rates are extremely high, and the symptoms are not very pleasant either. As with most issues, the media has done its part to escalate the matter sufficiently to make everyone paranoid. Since the end of July, all the comments I've received from people I told about my project were "Isn't that where Ebola is?", "I don't think you should risk it - your life is too precious", "Not worth it man". Well just so you know, there are currently no documented cases of Ebola in Ivory Coast (knock on wood). Then again, Ivory Coast's proximity to Liberia, Guinea and Sierra Leone makes you wonder how long the country will be able to preserve its immune status. My  hope is that by the time I am ready to actually start fieldwork in Ivory Coast (mid March), the outbreak would have been better controlled. However, I'm getting sidetracked because this is not what this post is about.

In a previous post, I predicted that it wouldn't be long before Ivory Coast musicians came up with an Ebola dance. It looks like I was correct (thanks DJ Lewis)! Scanning through my facebook newsfeed today, I came across the following video. 

 DJ Lewis - Ebola

From a very basic analysis, I sense that the purpose of this video is twofold. First and foremost it serves as Public Service Announcement to warn people of the dangers of the disease and what preventative measures they could take. In a very synthesized voice you hear DJ Lewis yell "Aucun vaccin n'est disponible - Attention - 90% des malades meurent - Attention" (translated: No vaccine is available - Warning - 90% of affected people die - Warning). If this doesn't qualify as awareness raising, then I don't know what does. But we should note that this is also a party song. It is performed in the "Coupe Decale" style, a type of Ivorian music that advocates excess, luxury and an overall festive lifestyle. Even though a terrible thing such as Ebola is not necessarily compatible with partying, something in Ivorian culture (perhaps in human nature) allow the two to mingle so as to produce refreshing music. It is not that Ebola cannot or should not be sung, however to most people the expectation would be something similar to this: 

Here, Ismael Yoroba gives us a mellow performance that outlines the risk factors, and presents a couple of pointers on how not catch Ebola (#boring? #effective?).

Ebola is terrible and is currently wreaking havoc in West Africa. However, if dancing and singing engages folks in ways that can uplift  their spirits while also providing education, then these populations are certainly getting closer to recovery. As we wait for the powerful figures of the world (Obama, Bill Gates etc.) to assist us, Africa let's dance our sickness away like Mamadee here!

 Full article available here: http://www.doctorswithoutborders.org/news-stories/story-front-line/boy-who-tricked-ebola