And Wuseli, 'Village of the Loonies'

"'They're loonies', I thought to myself. We were as nonplused as the audiences must have been watching us. Maybe it was a form of revenge.

"I looked closer.

"I saw a man dressed up as a monkey, with an orange fez on his head, swinging from the branches of a nearby tree. Monkey-man! He was blowing a policeman's whistle as he swung from the tree. The elders were still shuffling and hooting around, but I noticed that one of them had a long cotton tail dangling between his legs. And if one of them didn't have a horn, he blew on the end of his walking stick, making the sound of the horn just the same. And slowly, very slowly, that village was going wild. And a little millet wine helped; no doubt about it. Blow the roof off. "Not too much now," said Brook, knocking it back. Shuffle, hoot, shuffle, hoot, shuffle, hoot. Everything, everything to the rhythm of the crazy horns."

...

"And when you returned their sounds, they looked as if they could kiss you. It meant you understood... 'Come on! Come on!' they called us to dance. So we ventured into the circle of dancers, laughing. Shuffle, hoot, shuffle, hoot. Take it easy! they said. Keep the pulse! they said. Then you can hoot! And it went on for hours with the Village of the Loonies, the village who dance in trees, elect a silly Chief, miss their noses with warpaint, fall off horses, collect paper flags and policeman's whistles, make slapstick love, forget the names of their gods, make up new ones every day, forget they exist, forget misery, laugh, laugh at the discovery of themselves, at every limb and waggling tongue - everything is funny, everything.

"The people were wise.

"They understood the wisdom of craziness."

(Conference of the birds, John Heilpern, p216-7)

And the Peulh

This should probably be on the singing blog. Also from Conference of the Birds by John Heilpern:

"But it wasn't just the incredible sight of the Peulh. Even in the poor conditions, they were making music, miraculous music that seemed to come from another world. Swados was on her feet the instant she heard it. She knew the Peulh sound went to the heart of everything she was searching for.

"There, in one sustained note - a sound held for so long we weren't even aware of a voice behind it; a sound pure and simple, effortless - it was as if the whole meaning of everything that is so unintelligible and mystifying about life had somehow been shown to us. From where or how, I didn't know. But it was there, and it was as if the sound had a life of its own. The sound merged with others, vibrating. It was as if the sounds weren't human. They were beyond art, beyond culture, beyond everything except dreams. They were beautiful. They were beyond the human."

I'd like to visit the Tuareg

From 'Conference of the Birds' - a fantastic book about a group of actors in the 60s, including Helen Mirren, travelling around Africa trying to find a universal language for theatre that is beyond words.

"And to our astonishment, the field was suddenly full of leaping Tuaregs. Without warning, the men dashed into the centre of the field and started leaping up and down. It was a dance, a jumping-up-and-down dance. They rammed a walking stick into the ground and jumped up and down with such force that the earth vibrated. I couldn't believe it. It was as if they were using pogo sticks. They were going crazy! They were taking off! They were FLYING!" (p116)