tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16921928617541528182024-03-13T23:25:18.934+00:00Maggie KnutsonDaftNotStupidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02243127396108361624noreply@blogger.comBlogger224125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692192861754152818.post-34428263501194649792023-12-24T18:10:00.010+00:002023-12-25T15:09:41.480+00:00IF CHRISTMAS TREES COULD TALK<p><b><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> IF CHRISTMAS TREES COULD TALK (the revised version December 2023)</span></b></p><p><i><b><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">By Maggie Knutson</span></b></i></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">As a late December sun was gracefully sinking below the village church opposite their cosy little cottage, Edith and Isabel were putting the final touches to their Christmas tree. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“That looks grand,” Edith said, and she gave her sister an affectionate hug. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Now we've got to see this from outside,” Isabel urged and despite the cold, they rushed out to have a look.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> They were pleased with what they saw: the tree nestling prettily in the window alcove of their front room. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“If anyone was passing by,” Isabel asked, “what would our tree tell them about us?”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Well,” Edith deliberated, “ the occupants have wonderfully artistic taste and . . . ”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“ . . . don't like hoovering,” Isabel added, “because the tree is artificial!” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">The two giggled like school-children as they made their way inside.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“I never thought I'd be happy again after Henry died,” Edith confided in her sister. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Nor me with Norman,” Isabel sighed, and the two sisters shared a sad moment remembering their much loved husbands. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">It was Isabel who broke the mood. “This is our chance of a new start and it's going to be just fine and dandy. So come on, let's have supper and afterwards we're going to do some detective work.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Detective work?” Edith asked, intrigued by the suggestion.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“We're going to wrap up warmly and take a walk around the village, unashamedly window-gazing to guess what other people's Christmas trees tell us about them.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Edith chuckled. “Now that sounds a lot of fun . . . just as long as we don't get arrested as potential burglars!”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Two senior citizens taking an evening stroll?” Isabel queried. “I very much doubt it. Although,” she added mischievously, “stranger things have happened.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Meanwhile, three doors away, Beth was just taking the Christmas cake out of the oven when Leo stomped into the kitchen. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“I don't believe it,” he grumbled. “You know how this tree is supposed to keep its needles on. Well, it jolly well doesn't.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“I've just taken the webbing off and most of the needles fell onto the floor, so now the tree's practically bare.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Beth placed the cake carefully on the cooling rack and turned to face her irate husband. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Oh dear, let's have a look,” she said, lacing her arm around Leo's waist. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">As soon as they walked into the front room, Beth started to laugh. “You're right, it looks as if the tree's been dive-bombed by a crazy bird.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Leo began to see the funny side too. “As soon as I touched it, what looked like spiky green snow hurtled downwards, and now we've got a green forest on our new carpet.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“I'm sure the garden centre will change it,” Beth reasoned. “Let's leave it here overnight and you can take it back tomorrow.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“What would I do without you?” Leo said affectionately, kissing his wife on the top of her head. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“I dread to think,” she teased. “Now come and have a look at my Christmas cake. I think it's going to be my best yet.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Having been fortified by Edith's steak and kidney pudding, Isabel and Edith strolled around the village arm-in-arm. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Most people had their Christmas trees in their front rooms so the sisters had plenty to assess. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“This is such fun,” Edith said as they came full circle back to their own street. “What a good idea this was of yours, Isabel. Don't all these beautiful trees come into their own when it's dark outside. The village looks quite magical.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“And what a surprise,” she added. “Just like snowflakes, every Christmas tree is different.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Yes,” Isabel replied, “although I can definitely see a pattern emerging.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Edith laughed. “You might be retired now, Isabel, but once a teacher always a teacher. So go on, tell me about these patterns.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“First we have the neat and tidy trees with just the right number of decorations. They tell us that their owners are very organised with everything in its right place. If they have children, they certainly don't rule the roost.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Then there are the trees brimming over with home-made decorations and smothered with tinsel. These are obviously family homes. Untidy and noisy, but full of love.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Next are the small artificial trees with a minimum of decorations, rather like ours. These are people who don't like a lot of bother at Christmas . . . ”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“ . . . or,” Edith chuckled, “Senior Citizens like us, so they're bound to be very nice people.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“And lastly,” Isabel said, with some irritation in her voice, “there are the trees with flashing lights, which make me feel quite giddy. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“The people inside are very thoughtless. They forget that they aren't the only ones to see their trees, and not everyone likes flashing lights.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“That's a bit harsh,” Edith responded, and then, after a pause, “but very true.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“I think we've had a most productive walk,” Isabel said, “but now it's time to head home and back into the warmth.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">But the two sisters stopped short when they reached Leo and Beth's home, just a few cottages away from their own.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Oh dear,” said Isabel. “This is a most unusual tree and it certainly doesn't fit into any of my categories. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“It looks like it was once a Christmas tree, but there are hardly any pine needles on it and absolutely no sign of any decorations.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Perhaps they'll decorate the tree later,” Edith suggested, “although they'll find it difficult to find anything to hang their decorations on.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Quite so,” Isabel said. “I think we deserve a large mug of hot chocolate after all our detective work.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Perhaps with a dribble of brandy?” Edith suggested. “It is Christmas after all.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">The next day, a jubilant Leo arrived home from the garden centre and headed straight for the back of the cottage, carrying a brand new Christmas tree. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Beth saw him from the kitchen window and popped out to greet him. “I see you had a successful trip,” she said.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“I did indeed.” Leo said. “They couldn't have been nicer. They gave me this tree and suggested I stand it in a bucket of water and leave it over-night outside. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Since there'll be a frost tonight, I'll put it in the back porch so at least it has some protection.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“What will we do with the skeleton tree?” Beth asked.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“It's going by the dustbin at the side of the cottage,” Leo said firmly, “so we don't have to look at it. The garden centre said that they'll pick up both trees in January. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“I was very lucky,” he added. “This was the last tree they had left.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">As Leo dealt with both trees, Beth topped her Christmas cake with a rich layer of golden marzipan. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Then she went outside again and hugged her husband. “I couldn't be happier,” she murmured, breathing in the comforting smell of his jumper which was infused with the fresh smell of pine. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">She looked up at him, her eyes shining with excitement. “It's our first Christmas in our new home and it's all going so well. Apart, of course, from the tree!”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">That evening, Edith and Isabel took another stroll around the village before settling down for some festive evening television. Passers-by exchanged greetings and the two sisters were beginning to feel less like newcomers.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">But when they came to Leo and Beth's cottage, they stopped in dismay.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“This is ridiculous!” Isabel exclaimed, as they stared at the empty front room and the abandoned Christmas tree outside next to a bin. “Who in their right mind would do such a thing?” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Deary me,” Edith said with a sigh. “I do hope everything's alright.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">The next afternoon, Leo took the new tree into the front room and gingerly took the protective netting off. He breathed a big sigh of relief. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Beth,” he called, “this tree looks to be okay. The needles are most definitely staying on.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Good,” Beth replied as she applied stiff white icing sugar onto the cake. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">But then she heard a wailing noise which had her rushing into the front room, fearful that Leo had seriously hurt himself. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Are you alright, Leo?” she cried, but then she stopped in her tracks. The tree was tilting at a dangerous angle with Leo desperately hanging onto it to prevent it toppling over. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“The trunk is too thick to stay in the tripod,” he gasped, exhausted by the effort he was exerting.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Lean it against the window,” Beth suggested. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Good thinking,” he replied, and with some careful manoeuvring he managed to do just that and was able to let the tree go.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Beth stood by his side and the two surveyed the scene.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“It looks like a ship's mast in a storm,” Beth said. “We really aren't having much luck with our trees.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Leo started to grin. “Maybe not but I'm not going to let this one get the better of me. I'll tackle it tomorrow when I'm not so dog-gone tired.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">There was a full moon as Isabel and Edith embarked upon their now regular evening walk. It was like a friendly face beaming down at them and they felt full of Christmas good will. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">But when they reached Leo and Beth's cottage, that warm, cheery feeling evaporated.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“This really does take the biscuit, Edith,” Isabel grumbled. “That's definitely a Christmas tree in their front room but it's leaning against the window and, I might add, without decorations.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Perhaps whoever lives here is an artist,” Edith speculated. “One of those modern ones who like to make a dramatic statement.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Or a lunatic,” Isabel retorted. “It's making me feel quite unsettled. What we need is a hot chocolate with a hearty dose of brandy. That will certainly do the trick, but I hardly dare think about what we'll see here tomorrow.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">The next day was Christmas Eve. Whilst Leo was cutting the tree trunk so that it fitted snugly into the tripod, Beth lovingly positioned a small Santa on a sleigh, surrounded by holly, on the top of her cake. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Then together they hung little wooden Christmas figures evenly around the tree. Leo wound a simple string of white lights over the branches and, finally, right at the top of the tree, Beth placed a radiant angel in white and gold with a silver star above her head.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Simple but beautiful,” was Beth's verdict. “And we've done it, we've actually finished our tree just in time for Christmas.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">That evening Isabel and Edith were beaming with delight as they looked upon the transformed Christmas tree.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“It's stunning,” Edith said, feeling more than a little emotional. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Who'd have believed it?” Isabel murmured softly. “It's perfect.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">At that very moment, Leo opened the front door.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Can I help you?” he asked, perhaps a little sharper than he intended.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Oh dear,” Edith replied, embarrassment flushing from her neck into her face.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“We didn't mean to be rude looking into your room. We live a few doors away and we were admiring your beautiful Christmas tree. Those little figures are exquisite. We've never seen anything like them before.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Now it was Leo's turn to feel embarrassed. “That's so kind of you,” he said, a smile replacing the frown. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“We bought them at a Christmas market in Winchester. They are rather special, aren't they. But we've had a devil of a job with our Christmas trees. Thankfully, we got this one ready in time.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Is that so,” Isabel uttered innocently.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Beth was now at the front door.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Did I hear nice things about our tree?”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“It is truly beguiling,” Edith said with passion.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Why don't you come inside and try out my Christmas cake?” Beth suggested. “And perhaps a sherry to go with it?”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Good idea,” Leo agreed, basking in all the praise.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Aren't you too busy?” Isabel asked. “We don't want to impose.” Although the idea did sound very tempting.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“We've just moved here,” Beth explained, “so it'll be nice to get to know some of our neighbours.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“And we've just moved here, too,” both sisters said in unison.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Well, that settles it,” Leo said. “Let the Christmas celebrations begin.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">As they made their way inside, Isabel whispered to Edith, “Absolutely no mention about our crazy speculations!”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Just goes to show,” Edith whispered back, “how easy it is to jump to the wrong conclusions. But it was grand while it lasted.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">On their way home, Edith asked Isabel, “So what's Leo and Beth's Christmas tree telling us now?”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Isabel thought about it for a while and then answered, “That tree is telling us that it's very lucky to be upright.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">And the two chuckled happily, knowing that this was going to be a very special Christmas. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p>DaftNotStupidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02243127396108361624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692192861754152818.post-51595202733168331322023-01-02T18:58:00.002+00:002023-01-08T17:00:45.028+00:00MY NEW BOOK REVIEW : The ISLAND of MISSING TREES by ELIF SHAFAK (2021) . . . Shortlisted for THE COSTA NOVEL AWARD <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhSaEwvxniMf0EskreZQJhitlxzRWFFM-bwM4ivMLYb2dGL4uw4h1z5KEoN-I9aTHhzSk8RLU7eN3D0zfYyOeoY6mWDbqArb9MAC_J5N7fMKZW9_4UNojpdYudKyU7l8tx-W8FjJNqvVprEkN_Eyj36AwxBXziDy_z_4wCXEBqok039dMo-0pDWDYyC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3356" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhSaEwvxniMf0EskreZQJhitlxzRWFFM-bwM4ivMLYb2dGL4uw4h1z5KEoN-I9aTHhzSk8RLU7eN3D0zfYyOeoY6mWDbqArb9MAC_J5N7fMKZW9_4UNojpdYudKyU7l8tx-W8FjJNqvVprEkN_Eyj36AwxBXziDy_z_4wCXEBqok039dMo-0pDWDYyC=w360-h400" width="360" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span><p>When I saw that this novel advertised in the women's writing magazine MSLEXIA was on the shortlist for the prestigious COSTA NOVEL AWARD, I reckoned that it must be a good read. And even better, the advertisement claimed that the novel was about a desperate and forbidden romance between a young Turkish Cypriot woman and a young Greek Cypriot man.</p><p>Cyprus is a country very close to my heart. I lived there in the 1970s and experienced the Greek Cypriot Coup in July 1974, and a week later the Turkish Invasion, which left me a refugee.</p><p>My home in Cyprus was just outside the very popular holiday resort of Famagusta, with its miles of golden beaches and a relaxed lifestyle. Add to that friendly people, plenty of cafes and restaurants, and a warm climate, so it was a great place to live. But now Famagusta is part of the Turkish occupied North and is mainly a ghost town, Turkey wanting to use it as a bargaining tool in talks. So I have never been able to return to my home or retrieve my possessions. Not that there would be any to retrieve because of the wide-spread looting which always accompanies war.</p><p>I'm now in the final editing stage of my own novel set in Cyprus during these times so I was keen to discover how Shafak presented <i>The Cyprus Issue</i>, as it is often called.</p><p style="text-align: center;">*</p><p>To fully understand The ISLAND of MISSING TREES you need to know the history of Cyprus so I'll give you a potted version:-</p><p>* Cyprus is a small, beautiful island in the Mediterranean, it's nearest neighbours being Turkey, just forty miles away. Since Cyprus has rich resources, ports which operate all year, and an enviable position for trading, it has been invaded for centuries by a great number of countries, including England in the form of Richard The Lionheart.</p><p>* Of all the countries which invaded the island, only Turkey left settlers there, so the island became populated by not only Greek Cypriots ( 80 % of the population) but also Turkish Cypriots ( 20 % of the population).</p><p>* From 1878 until 1974, Cyprus was governed by Great Britain and they established three military bases: Dhekelia, Episkopi and Akrotiri.</p><p>* There were good relations between the Greek and Turkish Cypriots for many years until the Greek Cypriots decided that they'd like independence from Britain. Some Greeks Cypriots even wanted Cyprus to become part of Greece, which they called <i>enosis</i>, but this was a step too far for the Turkish Cypriots, who most certainly did not want to be part of Greece.</p><p>* The Turkish Government wasn't too happy about this either because they still held onto the belief that Cyprus should be part of Turkey. Tensions broke out in violent ways, with much bloodshed, and the two communities separated from each other, most Turkish Cypriots living in enclaves guarded by Turkish soldiers as a form of protection. It's fair to say that most of the violence was directed by Greek Cypriots against Turkish Cypriots, so in a way they were sowing the seeds of their own downfall.</p><p>* In 1960, The British Government granted Cyprus its independence, as it did with many other countries also under its rule. A treaty was signed giving Cyprus full autonomy, with a written constitution and a Parliament set up to include politicians from both sides. This independence was guaranteed by the governments of Britain, Turkey and Greece. Britain, however, was allowed to keep its military bases on the island for security reasons.</p><p>* But the newly formed Parliament proved unworkable so it ceased to function and both sides set up their own governments. There were also new rumblings about enosis, fighting broke out again, and UN soldiers were called in to keep the peace.</p><p>* In July1974 there was a Greek Cypriot Coup organised by those wanting <i>enosis</i>, and a week later, the Turkish Army invaded the northern part of the island to prevent this from happening, and also to seize what they thought was rightfully theirs.</p><p>* Thousands of people were killed or became refugees or simply 'disappeared', whole communities were torn apart, Cypriots were forced to take sides, and without mobile phones to keep friends connected, most were separated forever, which is what happened to me.</p><p>* Zoom into present day and we find Turkey still occupying roughly one third of the island. Those Greek Cypriots in this third who weren't killed were forced to relocate to the Greek Cypriot part of the island, and Turkish Cypriots who weren't killed moved into the Turkish occupied north along with thousands of Turks from mainland Turkey.</p><p>* This Turkish occupation was deemed unlawful by The United Nations. There have been endless talks since then to find a solution but so far none have worked. Therefore, there is still, forty-nine years later, an unsatisfying political stalemate.</p><p>* It's my belief that most Greek and Turkish Cypriots became victims of the political mischief played out by the governments of Greece, Turkey, Great Britain and, yes, America. There is now evidence that the American Government was heavily involved in the Greek Cypriot Coup, knowing and wanting Turkish forces to invade the island.</p><p>* This is not the place to explain this more fully. I am, after all, merely reviewing a novel. But you do need to know that America played a vital role in the coup and the war and the resulting misery.</p><p>* And finally, that 1960 guarantee made by Turkey, Greece and Britain to respect the independence of Cyprus proved to be meaningless rhetoric, which tells us a lot about world politics.</p><p style="text-align: center;">*</p><p>How, then, does Turkish/British writer Elif Shafak present this very human of tragedies: two lovers coping with all the difficulties they would undoubtedly face against the backdrop of unrest and war?</p><p>So here's the novel in my own condensed way and with my own observations :-</p><p>* The story takes place between 1968 to the late 2010s, moving backwards and forwards between times and two capitals: London and Nicosia, which is the capital of Cyprus.</p><p>There are very few characters :-</p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Turkish Cypriot Defne</li><li>Greek Cypriot Kostas</li><li>Their daughter Ada</li><li>Defne's sister Meryem</li><li>Turkish Cypriot Yusef and Greek Cypriot Yiorgos, who run a popular taverna in Nicosia</li></ul><p></p><p>The main character, however, is the FIG TREE. But more of that later.</p><p>* Defne and Kostas have fallen in love but it's a forbidden love which would horrify their families if they knew. So they secretly meet at the taverna run by Yusef and Yiorgos, who understand such things because they're in a gay relationship which was illegal at the time. Sounds familiar? Think of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet but without the taverna and you're in the right area.</p><p>* Kostas is sent by his mother to stay with an uncle in London before the coup and war. This is because she wants to protect him from the same fate as his two brothers who are involved in the unrest. Therefore the lovers are separated, with no opportunity for Kostas to tell Defne that he is leaving.</p><p>* Much later, Kostas returns to Cyprus to find Defne and she goes back to London with him. They marry and have a daughter, Ada.</p><p>* They don't explain to Ada about their past and why they have no contact with their families in Cyprus, so she's a troubled teenager. We know this because the first chapter of Part One concentrates on Ada in her classroom at school. She's been asked to stand up by her teacher but then refuses to sit down, and proceeds to scream for a very long time.</p><p>* It's a very long chapter with no change of pace and by the time Ada screams, I also wanted to scream with frustration. As with all of the novel, Shafak relies on narrative so speech is kept to a minimum. Writers are advised to show rather than tell, with dialogue playing an essential part. But Shafak ignores this so there's an awful lot of telling in this novel, which I found tiresome.</p><p>* I won't tell you more about the plot in case you want to read the novel, apart from the fact that Meryem visits Kostas and Ada in London to try to repair the damage caused to Ada.</p><p>* For me, these characters are not fully rounded as individuals. We learn about them so very slowly and with such little detail that I couldn't feel any form of emotional attachment to any of them. We learn a little about Kostas' mother and brothers but nothing about Defne's parents. So I felt exasperated right from the beginning, and I would have put the novel aside if I hadn't wanted to see how Shafak presented <i>The Cyprus Issue</i>.</p><p style="text-align: center;">*</p><p>* So, back to the fig tree. I really do like the fig tree, and she is the subject of almost every chapter in-between the chapters involving the characters. This is where Shafak's writing truly comes to life and I must say here that Shafak's writing throughout the novel is beautifully crafted, which is probably why she was short-listed for the Costa Novel Award.</p><p>* The fig tree is growing in the middle of the taverna and she, the fig tree, tells us about fig trees in general right from the beginning of time. For example, it was the leaves from a fig tree which Adam and Eve used to cover their nakedness after they'd disobeyed God and eaten from the tree of knowledge.</p><p>* She also tells us about her own history and how she ended up in the taverna. She talks about the changing seasons and which birds, animals and insects visit her, many of whom are her friends. She also compares herself with other trees and in some cases adds to the story of the two lovers.</p><p>* I can see why Shafak does this, using the fig tree as a thread linking the different stages of the story. It's a clever devise and would, I believe, have worked if only her chapters about the humans had matched the well-developed chapters of the fig tree.</p><p>* Kostas and Defne find that this wonderful fig tree is slowly dying when they re-visit the taverna, now abandoned and in ruins after the war. Kostas loves the natural world in all its forms, and his work in London is in this area although Shafak doesn't tell us what that work actually is. We are just left to guess.</p><p>* Anyway, Kostas takes a cutting and lovingly takes it back to London to plant in his garden. With the onset of winter, he carefully digs it up, wraps it securely and puts it in a hole in the garden to protect it.</p><p>* I'm all for the fig tree and hope that she survives but she doesn't save my overall opinion of the novel.</p><p style="text-align: center;">*</p><p>Shafak claims that she interviewed many Cypriots to get a sense of <i>The Cyprus Issue</i>, but in my opinion she has no understanding about life in Cyprus in those days, and she certainly has no idea what it's like to live in a war zone.</p><p>Also, there's no passion in this novel, no change of pace, and the coup and invasion are covered in just several paragraphs. For those of us living in Cyprus, the coup and the invasion were absolutely massive, and by not making them central to the plot, Shafak misses out on all that drama that could have been exploited in her novel.</p><p>Here are two more examples of how Shafak doesn't understand life in Cyprus :-</p><p>Firstly, there's no way that Yusef and Yiorgos would have run a taverna together. Homosexuality was only legalised in Cyprus in 1998, plus they came from the two very separate communities. Therefore I doubt whether they would have been in business together and have clientele from the two separate sides.</p><p>Secondly, the two lovers conduct their relationship in the taverna in order to keep it a secret from their families. Gossip abounds in Cyprus. It is, after all, a small country, and taverna regulars would most certainly have passed on the secret to the families concerned.</p><p>Another piece of advice given to writers is to write about what they know. Of course there are a number of genres, such as fantasy novels, where the writer relies on a vivid imagination. But The ISLAND of MISSING TREES (which is actually one cutting from a dying tree) is not a fantasy novel. Shafak most probably knows about relationships and how they can go wrong, but she doesn't understand Cypriots and <i>The Cyprus Issue</i> in the depth that's needed for such a novel.</p><p>In fact, it's insulting to all of us who were so badly affected by the war to read a novel claiming to be set in those times when it gives scant regard to the coup and the invasion. Think about the recent Russian invasion of Ukraine. What if a novelist were to write a novel set in Ukraine about two lovers, say a Ukrainian and a Russian living in Ukraine, caught up in the turmoil of it all, but makes a tree the central character and doesn't explore in any depth the terrors of war.</p><p>My final word on the novel is that it belongs in the horticulture section in a book shop, not the fiction section. If you're a keen fan of horticulture and/or fig trees then I'd say that it'll be a good read for you.</p><p style="text-align: center;">*</p><p>So now is the time to tell you about my own novel set in Cyprus between 1973 and 1974 - <i>Cyprus Blues</i>. I have four main characters: a Greek Cypriot terrorist, his abused wife, a young English teacher thinking she's found love and her charismatic boyfriend. There are plenty of other characters too who are essential to the plot and, I hope, are as well-rounded as the main characters.</p><p>Cyprus Blues is written in three parts:-</p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Part One explores the developing relationships between the main characters in an increasingly unsettled Cyprus</li><li>Part Two centres on the Greek Cypriot Coup and how my characters cope with that</li><li>Part Three is all about the Turkish Invasion and the question is. . . who lives and who dies?</li></ul><p></p><p>No need to have an introduction about <i>The Cyprus Issue</i> because it's woven into the story . . . and no detailed description of trees either.</p><p>I'll be publishing <i>Cyprus Blues</i> in 2023 and I'll let you know exactly when that happens and where it can be purchased.</p>Maggie Knutsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09894181254839872491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692192861754152818.post-63897956451536289172021-01-20T19:06:00.127+00:002021-09-01T18:46:44.662+01:00JOE BIDEN'S INAUGURAL SPEECH....5pm, Wednesday 20th January, 2021. (Just how did I get it so wrong? September 2021)<p><i> I wrote this post before the American withdrawal from Afghanistan, August 2021, and now my opinion of Joe Bidden has radically changed. Turns out, he's just the same as other American presidents with a total disregard of human lives in other countries. Like Trump, he has betrayed the people of Afghanistan, placing them in a state of terror and their lives, particularly for girls and women, will never be the same. Shame on Donald Trump, shame on Joe Bidden, shame on Boris Johnson. shame on Dominic Raab, shame on all of those who did not prepare thoroughly for this withdrawal. In fact, shame on those who thought that a withdrawal was a good idea in the first place. Afghanistan has been handed to a known terrorist organisation and we will all - Afghans and the free world - rue the day that this happened. </i></p><p>Normally I find political speeches not just too long and too boring but also divisive and exclusive and I tend to avoid them if I can. However, I have just listened to Joe Biden's Inaugural speech, hanging on to every single word, and I now feel as if a great weight has been lifted off my shoulders, a weight I hadn't realised was there. And a wonderful sense of calm.</p><p>Critics say that Joe Biden is too old. I say that his age and his life experiences, often tragic, give him a wisdom rarely found in those who are younger. He's too part of the establishment, critics say, but that gives him an understanding of and respect for the political system which the former President had not a clue about, and has enabled him to establish contacts over many years with politicians on both sides and with world leaders, which is so crucial at our present time in history. He's boring, critics say. Well, if that means that he talks in a calm, reasoned way, without histrionics, in a voice which is pleasing on the ear, then I say give me 'boring' any day.</p><p>I can't imagine Jo Biden to lie or spread fake news, which is a massive threat to truth, democracy and progress. He is a man who shows integrity and ability and we need these qualities in those who hold positions of authority. Qualities which are so often absent in many leaders, including in the UK.</p><p>His speech was all about reconciliation and inclusivity and hope, and his desire to be a President not just for his own supporters but also for those who voted against him. He shows a respect for women, again, something the former President seemed incapable of, and it is heartening that not only is his Vice-President a woman (AND with a black/Asian background) but that in this ceremony women played important roles. And I'm particularly delighted that a Native American woman is part of his team. </p><p>Unlike his predecessor, he recognises that Covid-19 is not just real but a real threat to lives. He understands that Global Crisis is also real and a real threat to the planet. He sees the danger in the developing nuclear programme in Iran and will work with other world leaders to challenge this. He is not best buddies with Vladimir Putin and will not tolerate Russian influence in America. And he doesn't need to wave a Bible in the air to show that he is a true man of faith.</p><p>When the full facts emerge about Donald Trump's time in office, as they surely will, we will see him for what he is: a narcissist, a populist, a liar, a bully, a cheat, a misogynist, and a racist. He is anti-Muslim and anti-Mexican. A man who put himself and his family above the people he was supposed to be representing. A man desperate for adulation, who loves himself more than America. And certainly a man who does not respect democracy or the rule of law or the rights of others.</p><p>Joe Biden has enormous challenges ahead and he may not always get things right, because no-one is perfect, and probably, even as I write this, his vociferous opponents will still claim that the election was rigged, despite there being no evidence to prove this, and they will still spread fake news and plot to undermine him at every turn. Sadly, that is the world we live in. And sadly, we have not heard the last of Donald Trump. But I believe that Joe Biden can rise to these challenges and will try his very best to do what is right, what is decent, what is needed.</p><p>Joe Biden is not just what America needs right now but also what the the world needs. I sincerely wish that there were more Joe Bidens in the world. </p><p>And finally, I didn't realise that I was a Joe Biden fan but listening to his speech and seeing his dignity and grace, I do now. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Maggie Knutsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09894181254839872491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692192861754152818.post-56088345480938212482020-11-25T18:20:00.009+00:002022-01-09T18:15:45.133+00:00Walkies - a fun fantasy novel for all ages with talking cats and dogs and their many adventures - by Maggie Knutson<br /><p><b> </b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI3hg99jNCW1OcCljt539T8V_KCaEDWN31mJygnTYlg-X7mqsZ71r9-p_sE9_4I_RM9s4sVdnHpYih42vzgC6_i7AvEtl9Vd_upZC7fWz6p4ZXySOoiWHSoECRGnVFexWKPSRd7c7FmhI/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI3hg99jNCW1OcCljt539T8V_KCaEDWN31mJygnTYlg-X7mqsZ71r9-p_sE9_4I_RM9s4sVdnHpYih42vzgC6_i7AvEtl9Vd_upZC7fWz6p4ZXySOoiWHSoECRGnVFexWKPSRd7c7FmhI/w480-h640/IMG_5266.JPG" width="480" /></a></b></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Me and my novel <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Walkies-Maggie-Knutson-ebook/dp/B082583YND">WALKIES</a></span><u><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Walkies-Maggie-Knutson-ebook/dp/B082583YND"> </a></u></b></p><p><b><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Imagine if dogs and cats could talk</span></b></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>And, if they could, what would they talk about?</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>And what if dogs and cats could understand humans?</b><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Wouldn't that give them an advantage over us mere mortals?</b><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>And what if dogs and cats had the same variety of personalities as humans?</b><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>That would mean that no two dogs or cats were completely alike.</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Although if you're a pet owner, you already know this. </b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> </b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>But what if you think that talking animals is ridiculous</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>But an interesting idea to consider?<br /></b></span></p><p></p><p><br /></p><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">So, why not suspend disbelief and allow your imaginations run wild.<br /></span></b></p><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">After all, in these Covid-19 days, wouldn't it be a welcome distraction? <br /></span></b></p><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Particularly if you found yourself laughing out loud.<br /></span></b></p><p><b> <br /></b></p><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: justify;"><b><i> </i></b><u><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>So, here's my personal story</b></span></i></u></p><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Our first family dog, <b>Syder</b>, was a pure bred <b>Border Collie</b> and didn't he know it: a magnificently beautiful dog with a loving temperament but with a will of his own, a love of lying in snow, sucking on a snowball and chasing any kind of ball...endlessly. </span></p><div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Daughter Lou had been keen for us to have a dog so when she discovered that there was a litter of puppies at our local stables, she dragged my husband and myself to have a look-see. "We're just going to look," we said. "We're not making any promises." </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The puppies, of course, were adorable and one in particular, caught our attention by chewing on husband John's shoe laces. We were like babes to the slaughter. So, <b>Syder</b> came home with us and we had a wonderful fifteen years with him until he died, as sadly pets do.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><div><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXiHZG-Pk1JGK6N2ltWwbcZSzH3P33ri6H6citPMHJyWpyWBrsppBYjw4AhMkLM5xseAMmzUvmbkC0mo0D_46H3umNpFu0_LhPK3X0baNgwH46d1cHV9FtTS60QbZdY2o69AO6TpODDfI/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXiHZG-Pk1JGK6N2ltWwbcZSzH3P33ri6H6citPMHJyWpyWBrsppBYjw4AhMkLM5xseAMmzUvmbkC0mo0D_46H3umNpFu0_LhPK3X0baNgwH46d1cHV9FtTS60QbZdY2o69AO6TpODDfI/" width="320" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>Syder</b></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">It took almost a year before we felt ready to look for a new dog and so I visited our local <b>Blue Cross Animal Rescue Centre</b> every week, having decided that we wanted to give a dog who needed a home a new start in life. I didn't know what kind of dog I was looking for but I knew that I would know when I saw him or her. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Just when I was giving up hope and had decided that my next visit would be the last one, there was <b>Archie</b>, a <b>Jack Russell</b> crossed with a <b>Collie</b>, in his kennel, waiting for me. The staff told me later that whenever a visitor approached his territory, he barked at them furiously, which always put them off. But what I got from this spirited little dog was his paw held up as a greeting, as if<i> <b>he</b></i> was choosing <b><i>me</i></b>. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He'd had a very difficult life previously and I was told that he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown and needed a lot of care. We would be his very last chance. Luckily for <b>Archie</b>, I had fallen in love with the little rascal so that was that. And husband John did too. So, we had a new dog. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But while <b>Syder</b> was calm and well-behaved, <b>Archie</b> was excitable and difficult to control. The Jack Russell in him wanted to explore boundaries so we had to erect fencing all around the garden to keep him in and sometimes we lost him temporarily whilst on country walks. Training sessions plus advice from the dog psychologist (!!!) from <b>The Blue Cross </b>transformed him into a great family dog with a loving personality and an adorable cheekiness. When he died, also aged fifteen, we were devastated.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b></b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9YRrpMnCm3wQ0xYMx2bzUaUfOLuXa70p2UL3jEUN53c-13l8GggBkucV8hU1_msZhO5EHm6sHV-KIbDgtDAhY1JTfUnJZn7Uy6mlU35bkrWDT-nbBAF4c7Ujj2tzIQ45mvT7Ufz6GIQU/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9YRrpMnCm3wQ0xYMx2bzUaUfOLuXa70p2UL3jEUN53c-13l8GggBkucV8hU1_msZhO5EHm6sHV-KIbDgtDAhY1JTfUnJZn7Uy6mlU35bkrWDT-nbBAF4c7Ujj2tzIQ45mvT7Ufz6GIQU/w400-h300/IMG_6445.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Archie </i></b></span><br /></p><br /><p><span style="font-size: medium;">It took over a year before we agreed on a new search for another dog. I spent each day for months trawling the internet and viewing hundreds of dogs at <b>The Blue Cross</b>,<b> The Dogs Trust</b> and <b>Dogs 4 You </b>on their websites<b>.</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />
It was then that I saw that each dog had something different about him or her and that each one had its own personal story to tell. That was when my creative juices kicked in and I started to imagine how it would be if they could talk and understand each other and humans. I found this so much fun that, as a writer, I decided that it would be a real hoot to write a novel about talking dogs. So, I stopped writing the Murder Mystery novel I was working on to concentrate on this new project.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>***</b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> </b></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>N</b>ow for the <b>cat</b> in <b>Walkies</b>. When I was a teenager, my dad gave me a black, female kitten whom he'd called <b>Snowball </b>and I adored that cat until she came to a sad end, fast asleep under a bale of hay. But circumstances changed and it wasn't possible for me to even consider getting a new cat.</span><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Fast forward decades until we reach the day when my daughter,<b> Lou</b>, had an encounter that would change her life and that of her partner. She'd had a rough day in her teaching job in an inner-city school and was desperate to get home and collapse. To her annoyance, she'd had to park some distance from her flat but when she got out of her car, there was a tiny black cat desperate for a stroke.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">So, Lou being Lou, did so and the cat started<i> </i>purring<i> </i>happily. But when Lou set off for a cuppa and a lie down at home, the cat followed her all the way back. As soon as Lou unlocked the outer door, this tiny cat dashed inside. Ignoring the first door, which led to to the shop below the flats, it chose the stairs by the second door and dashed up them. Then, ignoring the neighbour's door, it sat facing Lou outside <i><b>her</b> </i>flat.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Tiredness now changed into concern for this cat with no collar and seemingly no home. And what would Lou's partner say when<b> <i>he</i></b> got back home and found a strange cat there, already making itself very comfortable?</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Turned out that he loved cats so that was one problem solved. But how to find the owners? They took it to their local vet, who found that it was a male cat with a microchip giving the name of<i><b> </b></i><b>Kato </b>and an address and phone number in London but these had been de-activated. Next, Lou and her partner spent days searching the nearby streets for signs of a missing cat poster but found nothing. And therefore Kato became their first ever cat.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">They had many happy years with Kato until he developed a fatal medical condition and so then they had no cat. But almost immediately, a stray cat whom they'd fed from time to time on the kitchen window sill, decided that she'd like to come inside and so there was <b>Hoover</b>. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Then a work colleague of Lou's partner desperately needed a new home for her cat and there was cat number two,<i><b> </b></i><b>Luna</b><i><b>.</b></i> And finally, their next door neighbours couldn't take their cat to their new home ... and <b>Socks</b> moved in with them. So, they had not one cat but three, each very different from each other, all in the space of a few weeks. <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I had intended to just focus on dogs as the main characters in my novel but Lou would often have funny stories to tell me not just about Kato but also her three 'girls' and so I decided that I would include a cat to act as a foil to the dogs. I called this cat<i><b> </b></i><b>Plato</b>, in memory of their very small, very black, very sweet-natured Kato. But I made him the exact opposite of Kato in breed, size, appearance and character. Therefore, <b>Plato</b> became a large, apricot Siamese cat with the nature of a devil. And like all cats, he increasingly demanded to play a central role in the novel. So, of course, he got it.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><p style="text-align: center;">***<br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> <br />And thus my novel <b>Walkies</b> was born. I had a hundred limited 1st edition paperback copies published and recently I made it available as an<b> e-book</b>
on <b>Amazon</b>. </span> </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">
<u><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Here's the blurb about the novel </i></span></b></u><br />
</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Anna has thrown off her high heels and boring office job to become a professional dog</b></span><b style="font-size: large;"> walker. </b><b style="font-size: large;">But she soon suspects that her dogs can not only understand humans but also </b><b style="font-size: large;">each other. Her </b><b style="font-size: large;">charges range </b><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>from</b></span><b style="font-size: large;"> Derek the hippy </b><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Alsatian</b></span><b style="font-size: large;"> to Tigi the cross-gender </b><b style="font-size: large;">cockapoo and boy do </b><b style="font-size: large;">they have some stories to tell. And then there's the evil cat Plato </b><b style="font-size: large;">lurking close by and just who </b><b style="font-size: large;">is in the bushes?</b></p><p><br />
</p><p style="text-align: center;"><u><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Character List</b></span></i></u><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p>
<b><br /></b>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Anna</b></span><span style="font-size: medium;">: <span>Professional Dog Walker and loved by all the dogs</span><br />
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<span><b>Kiz</b>: Anna's girlfriend - a children's party organiser<br />
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<b>Lottie</b>: a Scottie dog - rather critical of others - best friends with Derek<br />
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<b>Derek</b>: the hippy Alsatian - a failed police dog who far prefers to chill out</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">
<b>Rocket</b>: a curry-loving Jack Russell rescue dog - surprisingly well-balanced<br />
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<b>Archie</b>: a Jack Russell/Collie, also a rescue dog - a dog with attitude<br />
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<b>Boxer</b>: a Boxer dog - gentle and kind<br />
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<b>Tigi</b>: a 'cross-gender' Cockapoo - a nightmare of a dog - despised by the others<br />
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<b>Maisie</b>: a Golden Retriever - the 'mother-figure' of the group - who loves food<br />
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<b>Syder</b>: a pure-bred Border Collie - the natural leader of the group<br />
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and then there's <b>Plato</b>, a pure-bred Siamese cat who has a superiority complex and hates dogs, other cats and all people.<br />
<br />
and there's a<b> surprise late entrant </b>but you'll have to read the novel to find out who that is <br />
</span><i><span style="font-size: medium;">(As you can see, both <b>Syder </b>and <b>Archie</b> feature in Walkies.)</span></i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i> ***</i></span></p><p>
<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">We did find the perfect dog for us after all that searching: our fantastic<b> Betsey</b>, a </span><span style="font-size: medium;">cross between a </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Border Terrier </b><span>and a </span><b>Whippet</b><span>. She'd been found living on the streets in </span><span>Wales and had ended up at the same animal rescue centre where we'd found </span><b>Archie</b><span>. As soon </span><span>as we saw her photograph we knew that she was meant for us. She's a little cutie: so well </span><span>behaved, a dream to walk and so much fun. For such a small dog she has an enormous </span><span>personality. She is now staring in </span><b>The Great Adventure</b><span>, the second in the <i>Walkies </i>series, which is near to the end of the editing stage.</span><span>.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="font-size: medium;"> <br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsrKapFkOTX9OmS95T4iDZrpBNVnHQ978Sgyz3zfhkYLtcWx45lwKABbX8YsMS_MGQIQlRohTMxONTV9zErZVcdE8bVNpxwkPofs7wzIJqUkYxAUaqAaWdCi_7UN_3HGzgKiYvfyU_wPg/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsrKapFkOTX9OmS95T4iDZrpBNVnHQ978Sgyz3zfhkYLtcWx45lwKABbX8YsMS_MGQIQlRohTMxONTV9zErZVcdE8bVNpxwkPofs7wzIJqUkYxAUaqAaWdCi_7UN_3HGzgKiYvfyU_wPg/w300-h400/IMG_6028.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i> </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Betsey and me</i></b><br /></div><div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM-H56amesjIhxI-4rcTMgK5YypSmp2VXGns74FWrf0eRvNewa95zK3JCSE51xKrq3wUmpKtiGNIri6p79mtFc-dzR-ADC7VURqjmOue5JkOILXzQLAkWb8_islpiTQ82CjsRzFSCUFUk/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM-H56amesjIhxI-4rcTMgK5YypSmp2VXGns74FWrf0eRvNewa95zK3JCSE51xKrq3wUmpKtiGNIri6p79mtFc-dzR-ADC7VURqjmOue5JkOILXzQLAkWb8_islpiTQ82CjsRzFSCUFUk/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM-H56amesjIhxI-4rcTMgK5YypSmp2VXGns74FWrf0eRvNewa95zK3JCSE51xKrq3wUmpKtiGNIri6p79mtFc-dzR-ADC7VURqjmOue5JkOILXzQLAkWb8_islpiTQ82CjsRzFSCUFUk/" width="320" /></a></span></span></div><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><i>Betsey with husband John in Torreviaja, Spain. She is a well travelled dog and so perfect for </i></b><b><i>WALKIES 2: THE GREAT ADVENTURE, which is based in Spain and Morocco, both countries </i></b><b><i>she </i></b><b><i>has visited several times with us in our Motor Home. Absolutely nothing phases her.</i></b></p><p><b><i> </i></b><br /><b><i>
</i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">***</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><u><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>Front and back covers of the paperback version of Walkies</b></i></span></u></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b> </b></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b></b></i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivgAuDeMaEWkH6okFkRaxpCUQVxXmxIXc0mvOn9KoUMnpdCZfrVibpcBXHpcqFfOhJ5DEEHgQBY-7wna6XGJ-_zlP2eSPyqYgcNUF92DgNlPcyAtl8KEpDwVnPXbZ3oZ7ePribX3Oyg8s/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1367" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivgAuDeMaEWkH6okFkRaxpCUQVxXmxIXc0mvOn9KoUMnpdCZfrVibpcBXHpcqFfOhJ5DEEHgQBY-7wna6XGJ-_zlP2eSPyqYgcNUF92DgNlPcyAtl8KEpDwVnPXbZ3oZ7ePribX3Oyg8s/w426-h640/IMG_E6460.JPG" width="426" /></a></b></i></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b></b></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b></b></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b></b></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b></b></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b></b></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b></b></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b></b></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b></b></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYFTDN6mKq70WimaXZvnHhowUvMsT8SJN-g1MmHimSPYyyfCXGAB9hjjxwNGZgD0XbWq2hm-eAEOFizMq1XZQzprsiQiQHi4NTQANjBb6fXtPFBAigS1pZNXyj5EdBBaoO5L-vSFq7ga4/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1417" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYFTDN6mKq70WimaXZvnHhowUvMsT8SJN-g1MmHimSPYyyfCXGAB9hjjxwNGZgD0XbWq2hm-eAEOFizMq1XZQzprsiQiQHi4NTQANjBb6fXtPFBAigS1pZNXyj5EdBBaoO5L-vSFq7ga4/w443-h640/IMG_E6553.JPG" width="443" /></a></b></i></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b> </b></i></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b> <br /></b></i></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><u><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>The art work is by the brilliant Danish artist Pernille Harrtung</b></i></span></u></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></p><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> ***</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><u><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Previous publications of my work</i></span></b><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></u></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Short story <b> Renaissance</b> published in <b>Saucy Shorts for Chefs</b> (Accent Press) 2005</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Short story <b>September in Italy</b> published in <b>Quality Women's Fiction</b> 2005</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Short Story <b>The Love Bug</b> published in <b>Sexy Shorts For The Beach</b> (Accent Press) 2006</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Short Story <b>Breaking and Entering</b> published in <b>The Yellow Room</b> 2012</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Eight freelance articles</b> published in <b>The Hampshire Chronicle</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> </b><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <b> ***</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>To order a copy of Walkies from Amazon - priced £2.49 - <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Walkies-Maggie-Knutson-ebook/dp/B082583YND">click here</a> </b></i></span><i style="font-size: x-large;"><b> </b></i></p><p><i style="font-size: x-large;"><b> </b></i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>***</i></span><i style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><b> </b></i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><b> </b></i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><u><i><b>Original Paintings by Pernille Harrtung</b></i></u> <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmV_CE3TcHZlDtUc02b6Zpj2rJxVR2NmTCP0IAp94wVKWdtM3BR7Mnj2vseGBVyATHtWrFOFA8WOaxAYzvsvuDzJdA-1s8SOWX-7gY7p18lBQnsqT3sfp8Ub3j8t6d6I2QbTsycxJM3Es/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmV_CE3TcHZlDtUc02b6Zpj2rJxVR2NmTCP0IAp94wVKWdtM3BR7Mnj2vseGBVyATHtWrFOFA8WOaxAYzvsvuDzJdA-1s8SOWX-7gY7p18lBQnsqT3sfp8Ub3j8t6d6I2QbTsycxJM3Es/w480-h640/IMG_6465+%25282%2529.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdcXRZ2SU8NvReGH58_NXuGaWdCFHlbilCyFpN6FLkyPn_Zx7taVzw7m8IJwmiwE5k2mvDgkWgTLLb6OiF6rmXpiDo9KHgd82PZoYrfrBNwdwAKlETqPoKKEqARBxHQPjNyw1WaF5Wa6w/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdcXRZ2SU8NvReGH58_NXuGaWdCFHlbilCyFpN6FLkyPn_Zx7taVzw7m8IJwmiwE5k2mvDgkWgTLLb6OiF6rmXpiDo9KHgd82PZoYrfrBNwdwAKlETqPoKKEqARBxHQPjNyw1WaF5Wa6w/w480-h640/IMG_6463.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></div></div></div>Maggie Knutsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09894181254839872491noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692192861754152818.post-31140732268001438302020-11-01T14:17:00.001+00:002020-11-01T14:17:27.090+00:00The choice of two paths in responding to Covid-19<p>I was inspired to write this by a news article on Friday on Channel 4 News about the US election, so this is my version. Which is: We have two paths to choose from in dealing with not just Covid-19 but also life in general.</p><p>1. The path of<b> Individuality</b>. In the UK this is the 'I'm going to do what I want and fuck everyone else. If I choose to not follow the government guidelines to limit the spread of Covid-19 then that's my human right. If I want, I can party with my friends, have at least six people in my home, not wear a face mask, not social distance, not quarantine when I come back from a foreign holiday. If I catch Covid-19, then I probably won't even have any symptoms if I'm young and if I'm older, then if I die earlier than I need to that's my choice. And if I spread the virus to others, that's their problem. But if I need hospitalisation, then that's also my right to have treatment. If I'm an extra burden on already exhausted hospital staff, then that's their job so what are they complaining about? And if the crisis lasts longer than it needs to because of 'free-thinking' people like me and there are fewer jobs because businesses are going bust, then I can get state benefits because that's my right. </p><p>In the US, the greatest follower of this path is <b>Donald Trump</b> plus many of his followers, and it extends to the use of firearms to protect property and scare voters and, in the case of some police officers, it means the right to kill someone of colour because, heck, they won't get out of their car or they're running away from me or they deserve to be taught a lesson. Of the many tweets and statements playing down the seriousness of Covid-19, Donald Trumps' latest about 'we're turning the corner with this virus which is just a little flu' belies the fact that the virus is spreading in the US at an alarming rate and deaths are of staggering proportions.</p><p>2. The path of <b>Collective Responsibilty</b>. If you choose this path, you look after yourself but also others. You behave in a way that you, yourself, would like to be treated. You obey the government guidelines not because you're a dumb sheep following the flock but because you know it's the best way to limit the virus. And it's the right thing to do. <b>Even if</b> those guidelines are tough and restrictive and sometimes unfair. <b>Even if</b> too many people in positions of influence and responsibilty do not, themselves, obey the guidelines and brag that no, they're not going to wear a face mask and yes, they're going to have a full house at Xmas, and 'I thought the guidelines had changed about not going out when you've tested postive'. Think <b>Dominic Cummings</b> and my case could rest there except that although he was the first to break the guidelines he's not the last.</p><p>My theory of the two paths can also be applied to other countries with their own particular circumstances.</p><p>I am a great believer in <b>human rights</b> but I choose the second path. I choose to not exercise my rights if it's going to hurt other people and I feel <b>empowered</b> by that, not diminished.</p><p>Each one of us has the right to choose which path we take but each one of us must also live with our own<b> conscience</b> for far longer than this pandemic. <br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Maggie Knutsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09894181254839872491noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692192861754152818.post-76695701999767262892020-05-17T17:49:00.000+01:002020-05-17T17:49:20.490+01:00COVID CHRONICLE How Covid-19 has forced Mobile Homers to become Stay-At-Homers<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0.21cm;">
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhup5rBpaYnzo2lfo8UwWrQo7R4fKtv33kf5mDN7yZxQyjyHHJqB4FOdRTLTbty2YoNEPGF3xewBIWOeEsg32fBv_x1eOOSpmetLY6_G71-DVWOZLEiKQlVIXASxCxEPEqN2yrT229IZ5E/s1600/IMG_2101.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhup5rBpaYnzo2lfo8UwWrQo7R4fKtv33kf5mDN7yZxQyjyHHJqB4FOdRTLTbty2YoNEPGF3xewBIWOeEsg32fBv_x1eOOSpmetLY6_G71-DVWOZLEiKQlVIXASxCxEPEqN2yrT229IZ5E/s640/IMG_2101.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">My
husband and I became proud owners of a Motor Home two years ago and
quickly discovered the joys of travelling, with all its freedom of
movement and a life lived mostly outside. We have travelled with our
little dog to France, Italy, Switzerland, Spain and Morocco. We have
been amazed by stunning mountains and coastlines and enjoyed that
most wonderful of things – sunshine.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0.21cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Earlier
this year we drove to Marbella in Southern Spain and then slowly
made our way up the Mediterranean coast in ignorant bliss of the
growing Covid-19 pandemic. We'd heard about a virus in China from
short snatches of news on the BBC but had no idea how serious it was
and most of the focus at home was on 'Get Brexit Done.'</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">After
our last campsite in Northern Spain, we travelled back through France
to our ferry crossing in Caen, increasingly puzzled by the many large
signs above the autoroute saying </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Corona Virus</i></span><span style="font-size: medium;">
with a radio station frequency.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0.21cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Just
one week after our return, Lockdown was declared but by then we knew
how dangerous this nasty little virus was. We had already booked our
next travels to Morocco at the end of May, where we were looking
forward to two fabulous concerts showcasing Morocco's Gnawa Music. </span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Of
course, that's not going to happen now and, instead, we have offered
the use of our Motor Home for any key worker needing a safe haven. </span>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Like
everyone in the world, we are hoping for an effective and safe
vaccine so that life can resume. But we want a new way of life where
climate change is tackled seriously, where people will continue to
look after each other and where the NHS is properly funded. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-top: 0.21cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Naturally,
we'd like to resume our travels but we're wondering how long it will
be before countries feel safe enough to open their borders and when
they do, what kind of reception will we get? Even with proof of
vaccination, will we be viewed with suspicion? </span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">And in
tourist areas within the UK, how keen will residents be at the
prospect of an influx of holiday-makers given the large numbers of
unwanted visitors who are shamefully disobeying the Government's
travel rules and putting the lives of locals at risk.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">The
future is uncertain but it could, in the long term, be a better
future. And since I'm an optimist, I suspect that travellers will be
welcomed back because we may well be the ones to help kick-start
their economies. </span>
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Maggie Knutsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09894181254839872491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692192861754152818.post-82671030088259083222019-09-09T11:56:00.004+01:002019-09-14T12:46:13.066+01:00A personal account of the 1st ever TAROUDANT GNAWA FESTIVAL... 29th-30th June 2019<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>Ce reportage est dedie a <b>MAALEM ABDESLAM KARDAN </b>- puisse-t-il rester en paix</u></div>
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Imagine the scene: John, Betsey (our dog) and myself are doing some serious chilling out at <b>Camping Le Calme</b>, about fourteen kilometres outside <b>Essaouira</b>, after all the excitement, thrills and disappointments of <b>The Essaouira Gnawa and World Music Festival</b>, and feeling pretty exhausted. We have travelled through Spain and toured around Morocco for nearly seven weeks in The Beast (our Motor Home) and are ready to set off towards home.<br />
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And then comes a message from our friend, <b>Faysal Bou,</b> from <b>Taroudant,</b> which we had already visited. There is going to be a <b>Gnawa</b> festival in <b>Taroudant </b>very soon, he has sent a poster advertising it and <b>Medhi Nassouli</b> will be performing as one of the acts. Apart from some very special performances, we didn't have a very satisfactory festival experience in Essaouira because of over-crowding at the main venue, <b>Moulay Hassan Square</b>. In fact, I couldn't even get into the VIP area on the Saturday because it was so full.<br />
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So, we certainly haven't heard enough <b>Gnawa </b>and <b>Medhi Nassouli</b> is one of our favourite performers.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzXeLrFvOf40_XcA8k4HYSuRZZ3-UB29et5BVxHNoJudwcbFkXfI3urLC_iZtfUFsGeeZTM-6P3YWooT-8lRdLvKb5rAWr53T50_6H1gYGkudVPLsM2FbH2wzTnYb8AjPC3AQKD7yfwSU/s1600/Taroudant+2019+poster.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzXeLrFvOf40_XcA8k4HYSuRZZ3-UB29et5BVxHNoJudwcbFkXfI3urLC_iZtfUFsGeeZTM-6P3YWooT-8lRdLvKb5rAWr53T50_6H1gYGkudVPLsM2FbH2wzTnYb8AjPC3AQKD7yfwSU/s640/Taroudant+2019+poster.jpg" width="440" /></a></div>
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<i>This is the official poster for <b>The Taroudant Gnawa Festival</b></i></div>
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But <b>Taroudant</b> is in the wrong direction and we have a <b>ferry</b> to catch from <b>Bilboa</b> to <b>Portsmouth</b>.<br />
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John googles the festival but can't see anything ... we learn later that the Facebook page for the festival is in Arabic and neither of us can read Arabic. So I message Medhi Nassouli...is there going to be a festival in Taroudant soon? Yes, he replies, and I'm playing Gnawa there on Saturday night.<br />
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So, we look at our planned timetable and work out that we do have enough days to take in the festival and we can get there just in time.<br />
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The decision is pretty quick. We're going. This means driving through <b>The Atlas Mountains</b> on the <b>new motorway - the A8. </b>We've already done this but it's a stunning drive and doing it again will be quite cool, we think. It also means driving back that way after the festival but that's quite a cool proposition too.<i> </i><br />
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<b><i> </i>So, we pack up The Beast and set off for Taroudant.</b></div>
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<b><u>THE TAROUDANT GNAWA FESTIVAL - Day One <i>- </i>Saturday 29th June 2019</u></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWCMY95Ylx4Aq1A8apWmpWobJSF6WVkojG-mJ8audHUxKFoFlawgLt53Ls3KhUkl68tF8kT11RVo58LY-WjgkI9mXhZp4LbTPpU6ixxfkwuRhRMkFvr61N2HvuF3wTFOLhRZWaxeti5gg/s1600/IMG_4585+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWCMY95Ylx4Aq1A8apWmpWobJSF6WVkojG-mJ8audHUxKFoFlawgLt53Ls3KhUkl68tF8kT11RVo58LY-WjgkI9mXhZp4LbTPpU6ixxfkwuRhRMkFvr61N2HvuF3wTFOLhRZWaxeti5gg/s640/IMG_4585+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<b>The Ramparts of Taroudant</b></div>
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We arrive back to the parking outside the Ramparts, next to <b>Taroudant Palais Salam Hotel</b>, just where we parked several weeks earlier. There's the Guardian, who recognises us and greets us warmly. Just time to get changed and find a taxi to take us to the venue, <b>Place Assarag</b>, right in the heart of the city. It's a square surrounded by trees, cafes and shops. There's a stage facing the square, seating already filled and people standing behind and around. Much smaller than the main outside venues in Essaouira but that's good because it looks like we'll get a good view to take our videos and photographs.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwWhylu6M9zKTe9BKut_HvCYMDXDIJDdPF8iC7z_fmo-GW1b0EvT-czlhhhEUosoltRhUmQTPKi8i8nZodhaYAKbYtsGbSU0SqXQaJ9dns5GUmgziURVfI2QPnsGmhsRC6NvhNsTIwfEE/s1600/IMG_4213.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwWhylu6M9zKTe9BKut_HvCYMDXDIJDdPF8iC7z_fmo-GW1b0EvT-czlhhhEUosoltRhUmQTPKi8i8nZodhaYAKbYtsGbSU0SqXQaJ9dns5GUmgziURVfI2QPnsGmhsRC6NvhNsTIwfEE/s640/IMG_4213.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>If necessary, we can always climb up a tree like these lads </i></div>
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It's nearly nine o'clock but the music hasn't started yet and since we haven't eaten all day, we flop onto chairs outside a cafe and order something to eat. But just before the food arrives, the music starts. I'm itching to get up and go have a look-see but the food has now arrived and I know that this is the only time I'll have to eat. I actually can't remember what I ordered and I eat it as quickly as I can and then we're off, heading towards the music.<br />
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<b>So, where to stand and do our stuff?</b><br />
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We've already missed several short performances so we stop and start videoing the act that is on from a distance.The video is a bit blurred but that doesn't matter because I can see enough and already, there are lots of high leaps by the <b>Gnawi </b>-something that doesn't happen much at Essaouira these days. I love the energy and those leaps and loud drumming so it's very exciting.<br />
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After they have finished, we wander as close as we can at the side but John is carrying his camera and stand and we are ushered, without any badges, right to the front in the make-ship <b>press pit</b>. Given our repeated and futile attempts to get press pit badges at Essaouira for the last three years (after previously been given passes), we are slightly bemused but very grateful. John stands to the left of the stage and I'm at the right. It's not until the middle of Medhi Nassouli's act that I realise that I get a better view from the left because a large loud speaker is in the way. It's always a learning process.<br />
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Then <b>Maalem Omar Al Mahoudi</b> and his <b>Gnawi</b> come onto the stage and start their performance and suddenly I'm not tired any more and I'm smiling because this is just so good.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpiCz-lyJ-gT9VLn5kIor9pHEEbT8gM6V4p5p3FqgeJ5VrvQl_Q0zOos57QIJuziN2WZAlfR2wv2EP9q1k7HiBK83Hejq-Dt-In9nM3f1j1Mb705G6jsTjCZQwYFbpKcXiWjnasjl3j6c/s1600/IMG_4228.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpiCz-lyJ-gT9VLn5kIor9pHEEbT8gM6V4p5p3FqgeJ5VrvQl_Q0zOos57QIJuziN2WZAlfR2wv2EP9q1k7HiBK83Hejq-Dt-In9nM3f1j1Mb705G6jsTjCZQwYFbpKcXiWjnasjl3j6c/s640/IMG_4228.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWvPq2G4sDEUSdLaosP8Vk_hL7VSZFBLAqeYck7utSCmYu2o1CdGOZYSJREtpGZZtaQnEaewiLFUfNuIzVoXd-WbNJZ3y8hyphenhyphenN2GWqbc2KBklm0NgaaE76YkC2ZFzIHtj-evw0XM88_JJw/s1600/IMG_4257.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWvPq2G4sDEUSdLaosP8Vk_hL7VSZFBLAqeYck7utSCmYu2o1CdGOZYSJREtpGZZtaQnEaewiLFUfNuIzVoXd-WbNJZ3y8hyphenhyphenN2GWqbc2KBklm0NgaaE76YkC2ZFzIHtj-evw0XM88_JJw/s640/IMG_4257.JPG" width="480" /></a><br />
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<i>I love this photograph because of the look of pure joy on this Gnawi's face. </i><br />
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And then, something rather special happens: one of the Gnawi brings a delightful young woman onto the stage and she starts to do the Gnawi dance and she puts heart and soul into it. At one stage, her hat falls off but that doesn't stop her. It takes a lots of guts to be on that stage (I should know) so well done to her.<br />
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I'm already liking this festival. Not only is the music World Class but it's also inclusive and family-friendly and the audience are clearly loving it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF4pRLq6mAHc6DGkuOxSUulL4gT2tY0oMjG6SWlTbkbQ0tdd52X3kHgGMiawDte2Jm4JCZVoDhmggFraZajuRcZxvA6tzUlGYXNMsX9ty4U5A00L7o8OG7QSdSwuWi2hTjQDLPjyIlD2g/s1600/IMG_4280+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF4pRLq6mAHc6DGkuOxSUulL4gT2tY0oMjG6SWlTbkbQ0tdd52X3kHgGMiawDte2Jm4JCZVoDhmggFraZajuRcZxvA6tzUlGYXNMsX9ty4U5A00L7o8OG7QSdSwuWi2hTjQDLPjyIlD2g/s320/IMG_4280+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj3ZiCBhp4EihbYsiKGkE4w_s1L9_gAygv0yTUISMSxONrME2L8hLU00i_s8fSj2WzzcLOxdEpJ-A6O2CV5lyRfD-_1VKhi_G8JqglOKHn0L-6qSh3_JaYIHx4lX8epQTsxzinUYW1gVk/s1600/IMG_4277.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj3ZiCBhp4EihbYsiKGkE4w_s1L9_gAygv0yTUISMSxONrME2L8hLU00i_s8fSj2WzzcLOxdEpJ-A6O2CV5lyRfD-_1VKhi_G8JqglOKHn0L-6qSh3_JaYIHx4lX8epQTsxzinUYW1gVk/s320/IMG_4277.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<b>*</b></div>
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So now it's the last performance and it's the boy-from-Taroudant-made good - the brilliant <b>Medhi Nassouli</b>. He's broken off his world tour charming audiences with his inspired playing, his wonderful smile and his voice like melting chocolate, to play in his home town. So it's very fitting that he's playing at the first ever <b>Taroudant Gnawa Festival.</b><br />
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And then, to my great surprise and delight, he's greeting me from the stage and the audience give me a round of applause. I do a bow to the audience, all the time thinking that the audience must wonder who on earth is this strange English woman?<br />
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The music, of course, is divine and he's got a really good band of <b>Gnawi </b>supporting him. A big <b>SHOUT OUT</b> to all the Gnawi who are such an essential part of the performances but who rarely get mentioned. I would like to see the names of the Gnawi printed in programmes if that's possible.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnK7T4cTY0ZIZHSqvbiRe8d4QPkO5FbdykmiLTIT30FqTxJ5xruJKfjBLKH6gk6K0E-YYK-HzHxpyBC2KgII6Ku4QsbBsmT_hlpi8bibMKVhAJRJrPm-ueMWzXwjIE_ifRHpK-g79cNHg/s1600/IMG_4310+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnK7T4cTY0ZIZHSqvbiRe8d4QPkO5FbdykmiLTIT30FqTxJ5xruJKfjBLKH6gk6K0E-YYK-HzHxpyBC2KgII6Ku4QsbBsmT_hlpi8bibMKVhAJRJrPm-ueMWzXwjIE_ifRHpK-g79cNHg/s640/IMG_4310+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-btb_CIryGS-26KlY5zBp7yRo9Kzhpx2y2fGmSQyjrPEZMqYAo_7X62YSteD3aqfQZxf0_YZCdoRTzeBnJc7TDbLnaKJEZJBA1j5lpRlf49cXxF2RcU6exjg-dPONJZJIu8rNscKwYqk/s1600/IMG_4290+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-btb_CIryGS-26KlY5zBp7yRo9Kzhpx2y2fGmSQyjrPEZMqYAo_7X62YSteD3aqfQZxf0_YZCdoRTzeBnJc7TDbLnaKJEZJBA1j5lpRlf49cXxF2RcU6exjg-dPONJZJIu8rNscKwYqk/s640/IMG_4290+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRVUAiVub1K67VqBnjGCMFWWezrt19FYxtNUmofz-wKiUesXR29dCZzUrFWBmIcoAiUalGFfD5qieFeimE1_dA72lNRBy0kwoIusJByoAeWEZihOpT9WCP3TXaDODH3myiw1EKkIhvXBY/s1600/IMG_4292.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRVUAiVub1K67VqBnjGCMFWWezrt19FYxtNUmofz-wKiUesXR29dCZzUrFWBmIcoAiUalGFfD5qieFeimE1_dA72lNRBy0kwoIusJByoAeWEZihOpT9WCP3TXaDODH3myiw1EKkIhvXBY/s640/IMG_4292.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<i>Just a mention here of this Gnawi. I don't know his name but I've seen him performing many times at The Essaouira Gnawa and World Music festival so it's like being with old friends. </i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-GWOHn0BcsVNt7qoYYcoF4UdnophIwajgSXOTKgXcYmwAVKS4BZakU4XHe8AOiApxCh-Rc1HCLn3tDYq0VeIzeBCINueY_GxOFqWMH4M_7jrl7BhZ6r8kdZ3Fmd3NCZeMeIjfjF1yd8o/s1600/IMG_4297.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-GWOHn0BcsVNt7qoYYcoF4UdnophIwajgSXOTKgXcYmwAVKS4BZakU4XHe8AOiApxCh-Rc1HCLn3tDYq0VeIzeBCINueY_GxOFqWMH4M_7jrl7BhZ6r8kdZ3Fmd3NCZeMeIjfjF1yd8o/s640/IMG_4297.JPG" width="640" /> </a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyIVHUsPSJr9azWXvv87VkZWmU-ECHoSfC0r_qP62pogEmLjRF6hCTrJE3L4jo5d1Lx8RQBFRMriFwXqnR8XcVsbCUonNY5tSLpOL_7sLLmnEMH96KK3bCFACd4-R56yMjEVQ083mZZM4/s1600/IMG_4309.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyIVHUsPSJr9azWXvv87VkZWmU-ECHoSfC0r_qP62pogEmLjRF6hCTrJE3L4jo5d1Lx8RQBFRMriFwXqnR8XcVsbCUonNY5tSLpOL_7sLLmnEMH96KK3bCFACd4-R56yMjEVQ083mZZM4/s640/IMG_4309.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFd1SpLvVNBG6rinf9KlRr96qfMZKb44TaJuCp82wf1PBcwKop5hiVWyM5BQ4MzCLNTUZX6xfmOqKKEm-m2CCq26bJUQPb_yQqlxHOOzPpXVB0GteSQhchMRBtcl-W5qYPIEf3dPAEPDc/s1600/IMG_4317+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFd1SpLvVNBG6rinf9KlRr96qfMZKb44TaJuCp82wf1PBcwKop5hiVWyM5BQ4MzCLNTUZX6xfmOqKKEm-m2CCq26bJUQPb_yQqlxHOOzPpXVB0GteSQhchMRBtcl-W5qYPIEf3dPAEPDc/s640/IMG_4317+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2VCHkjho_Gow-ATeP7GcKaqwpm3gLD_ZmXaLa0Zukv0D1oQDomBHxySrerVo7g-Rg5wmmnW-cc4Mn7XReunHvO4-wOuctALKyQpeljRHQXnt_a42vHXnbnmcyl1e4kubgVCzmolRO5eA/s1600/IMG_4322+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2VCHkjho_Gow-ATeP7GcKaqwpm3gLD_ZmXaLa0Zukv0D1oQDomBHxySrerVo7g-Rg5wmmnW-cc4Mn7XReunHvO4-wOuctALKyQpeljRHQXnt_a42vHXnbnmcyl1e4kubgVCzmolRO5eA/s640/IMG_4322+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpEWqDbDVWo36b4aB15b9qJgDXx_70Gd9E1ldoNX19AtsRlvc07t7jeGbglEx8IX7HIaTl4hFq8Y5D6_JVZLrrHZwk6Cg0j1FYIEf4AYslZmNye5e4rkJKqfMfQzzc-5wm3xovy-m00aY/s1600/IMG_4324+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpEWqDbDVWo36b4aB15b9qJgDXx_70Gd9E1ldoNX19AtsRlvc07t7jeGbglEx8IX7HIaTl4hFq8Y5D6_JVZLrrHZwk6Cg0j1FYIEf4AYslZmNye5e4rkJKqfMfQzzc-5wm3xovy-m00aY/s640/IMG_4324+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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At some stage, a lady with two children come onto the stage to have their photograph taken. I'm guessing that they're relatives and are clearly delighted to be there. This is a festival for the people of Taroudant, which I think is great.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIK4Vy8jNQxzEgu4HS6QaeowtuG6jthjvLgZu5GFEcpQLxsHUnBLT06KaMSIFIcH_kxipiRiaonX3rPkKdTplr8fyxTEHIOtAC8ImKGanT4xTWK-2g7sjK1cAs3Tt_pbKJ5Gfz2pq6fKw/s1600/IMG_4337.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIK4Vy8jNQxzEgu4HS6QaeowtuG6jthjvLgZu5GFEcpQLxsHUnBLT06KaMSIFIcH_kxipiRiaonX3rPkKdTplr8fyxTEHIOtAC8ImKGanT4xTWK-2g7sjK1cAs3Tt_pbKJ5Gfz2pq6fKw/s640/IMG_4337.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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After the set has ended, there is a lot of activity on the stage, which had happened after the previous sets and I'm beginning to realise that this is very special. Each Maalem is being handed a <b>Commemorative Certificate </b>because they have played at the first ever <b>Taroudant Gnawa Festival</b>.What a great idea that is.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtaKMkswr_AqMpQAKJaNRGthZpZVUGrq7xfnjNdCv2mE5S0M_IU9LTWTia3ymXfzO7kaGaedi2xU2kCqmQaqI5t0NTgiF3ABHSPfVXhGtsPemH8mlXkuKMrrUy_fB9o4emAiZ9lDSOVBA/s1600/IMG_4364.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtaKMkswr_AqMpQAKJaNRGthZpZVUGrq7xfnjNdCv2mE5S0M_IU9LTWTia3ymXfzO7kaGaedi2xU2kCqmQaqI5t0NTgiF3ABHSPfVXhGtsPemH8mlXkuKMrrUy_fB9o4emAiZ9lDSOVBA/s640/IMG_4364.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7OtEQQCkfpefeoiMeNFy8cRxle7AhJHfO6FNvgK3bXHLBSwgLtGNt3FbfY-e_ImoLiRBX-mg4xDx3hzYf4zMmGc9GdHeZHIwkRScDKZL9JlHzHP6AkhWBaCwrmjA_KQQY1pJbDCzqp3M/s1600/IMG_4369+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7OtEQQCkfpefeoiMeNFy8cRxle7AhJHfO6FNvgK3bXHLBSwgLtGNt3FbfY-e_ImoLiRBX-mg4xDx3hzYf4zMmGc9GdHeZHIwkRScDKZL9JlHzHP6AkhWBaCwrmjA_KQQY1pJbDCzqp3M/s640/IMG_4369+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Maalem Addelmajid </b>handing a Commemorative Certificate to <b>Medhi Nassouli</b></i></div>
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<b>*</b></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><u>THE TAROUDANT GNAWA FESTIVAL - Day Two - Sunday 30th June</u></b></div>
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Quite clearly, John and I are not getting our timings right because the first act of the evening starts as we are half way through our supper at another restaurant behind the stage. ( I do remember what we had, though, because it was delicious: omelette, chips and a Moroccan salad heavy with coriander, which I adore). We can see and hear the first performance, which is a very good <b>Sufi </b>group, dressed in white and with very heavy druming, which sounds really good.<br />
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Next up is <b>Maalem Abdelmajid</b> with his <b>son </b>and <b>Gnawi </b>and here are some of the photographs I've chosen :-<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix8cxYPvxjsSE3YTP5xjdiUSmJZTsHmftj0z2MTCzKeYOcH0Ha3emkIWEuV0XiNedrMSGyqnSbUplhlC9hA51Zx4dfXEqdoFMsh5hqoCAIT2GcloS7upOpV0o6korBM1QTTxVkS5vPiBk/s1600/IMG_4399+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix8cxYPvxjsSE3YTP5xjdiUSmJZTsHmftj0z2MTCzKeYOcH0Ha3emkIWEuV0XiNedrMSGyqnSbUplhlC9hA51Zx4dfXEqdoFMsh5hqoCAIT2GcloS7upOpV0o6korBM1QTTxVkS5vPiBk/s640/IMG_4399+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<i>Second on the left is the Gnawi who played with Medhi Nassouli</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCwPXJ6nYK46xkgMdsFsHt1EiYMQRHGBrvbBjNgsxuoR4hzV6TW9ykvv595QEEoXF5HVLIHMNQ1C7EmGZ-jkI8MR31I-ljrZemvYs1_Tgr4u4lFEp0GTLV2OnjwSw8eqbHP91L9jNz2qQ/s1600/IMG_4395.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCwPXJ6nYK46xkgMdsFsHt1EiYMQRHGBrvbBjNgsxuoR4hzV6TW9ykvv595QEEoXF5HVLIHMNQ1C7EmGZ-jkI8MR31I-ljrZemvYs1_Tgr4u4lFEp0GTLV2OnjwSw8eqbHP91L9jNz2qQ/s640/IMG_4395.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_kwXr45AZn9ThAY9fiQHCrNdQLDwg90EbZX37qMJ7KpW9AQTWmaO8fBWqFyisyJyhDu8Hob3EBONJoWevlXy9uJs5yIf5iyU93SQ3FhWZvH_D0HkVwaIGhvbrkGAhA59PhsqnaPe6G9g/s1600/IMG_4397.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_kwXr45AZn9ThAY9fiQHCrNdQLDwg90EbZX37qMJ7KpW9AQTWmaO8fBWqFyisyJyhDu8Hob3EBONJoWevlXy9uJs5yIf5iyU93SQ3FhWZvH_D0HkVwaIGhvbrkGAhA59PhsqnaPe6G9g/s640/IMG_4397.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC-181BrOJWPf9x6qwKRfruem3DDICLt71eWFmARUVa3nKJDDrdA4eBNorNW_433GHd5X5EMrDDaYXhpgx44YbyUB5RQGB2OtBy1osucmDwvjok-IzyGq6dLNZt4QQm-5qnS8PI6ERrrU/s1600/IMG_4400+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC-181BrOJWPf9x6qwKRfruem3DDICLt71eWFmARUVa3nKJDDrdA4eBNorNW_433GHd5X5EMrDDaYXhpgx44YbyUB5RQGB2OtBy1osucmDwvjok-IzyGq6dLNZt4QQm-5qnS8PI6ERrrU/s640/IMG_4400+%25282%2529.JPG" width="480" /></a><br />
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The next performance is <b>Maalem Regragui Yumala</b> and his <b>Gnawi.</b> I am invited to stand on the stage at the side to do my recordings and photos. So, up the steps I go and stand near the front out of the way of the performers. It's now that I wish I was wearing black leggings, black top and flat shoes. I am very aware that I look as if I've just wandered off the beach. Hey ho ...something else I've learnt.<br />
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Even though it's a small stage, the Gnawi dancers still do their <b>acrobatic dancing</b> with many high leaps and as they advance to the front, the stage below my feet begins to shake violently and I quickly step backwards to safer territory. But this is brilliant - I'm getting such a good view of the group and I take so many photos that I couldn't add them all here. But here is my choice for this blog post:-<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXqgoSp8DrHoSOoANntQfKPL4fuBcEcuAiR0CLQ5ihuwTewTN-rieiZ85hnKrM_2ljpSmPv7WhYxu9HmxFVG_h1fsXHDmLuRHW4qiGmNy9pOI6U8ljOINOPmNDfQS9u85R9gIVNejXSu8/s1600/IMG_4448+%25283%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXqgoSp8DrHoSOoANntQfKPL4fuBcEcuAiR0CLQ5ihuwTewTN-rieiZ85hnKrM_2ljpSmPv7WhYxu9HmxFVG_h1fsXHDmLuRHW4qiGmNy9pOI6U8ljOINOPmNDfQS9u85R9gIVNejXSu8/s640/IMG_4448+%25283%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguQCjWAzr1-IJKGoznVIwQfWchAGwC8ixiave8zBKbUHBHJWWeK5_b4HC59CxSzQMwBd0M8VTOnPeW0-BmedWdtSozFjcFVFUvYRBsGeJNNsAKInmo7YHyamlXYaImUzA9VxCceLUgxfs/s1600/IMG_4462+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguQCjWAzr1-IJKGoznVIwQfWchAGwC8ixiave8zBKbUHBHJWWeK5_b4HC59CxSzQMwBd0M8VTOnPeW0-BmedWdtSozFjcFVFUvYRBsGeJNNsAKInmo7YHyamlXYaImUzA9VxCceLUgxfs/s640/IMG_4462+%25282%2529.JPG" width="480" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXeLy07m3q2NSMYbrBMKLpfPgQihYdMjcToU8CSGcYwn5iH-ujTydKI2a4ecMGH7p_bNvgt8epxI-uLkImD6fPnhgCC2ezZ_8RfP78zDRvnC8GPOkWzRDUZCP3muifVQemOiXGFC-xLj4/s1600/IMG_4471+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXeLy07m3q2NSMYbrBMKLpfPgQihYdMjcToU8CSGcYwn5iH-ujTydKI2a4ecMGH7p_bNvgt8epxI-uLkImD6fPnhgCC2ezZ_8RfP78zDRvnC8GPOkWzRDUZCP3muifVQemOiXGFC-xLj4/s640/IMG_4471+%25282%2529.JPG" width="480" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi82DmyFxRuffLM5g9N_zWNykYVMAkMzH3rVOqvok29Lo6M-RWJ0EpARdksnpVg3-iV-MDV-caWcRkreU5XGz8nzHTogBsNAfB6rr9WUJ9hb8JujdAG3sLOGRn25i6ozYeXFdr6bOW4Zns/s1600/IMG_4474+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi82DmyFxRuffLM5g9N_zWNykYVMAkMzH3rVOqvok29Lo6M-RWJ0EpARdksnpVg3-iV-MDV-caWcRkreU5XGz8nzHTogBsNAfB6rr9WUJ9hb8JujdAG3sLOGRn25i6ozYeXFdr6bOW4Zns/s640/IMG_4474+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfjlUB2x90e_6OM_UoYaKeoofc8cQHedGHIsPCN1Hj6jLU3cCbudeZeYWVbAFpK_Z7lbJ0eEFbgVU8sq_oPvpCecM8yFGrgPqPzg8XqRMWEp1RVN6fQ_fXJNB_2Oz207BLP8nZQObbImg/s1600/IMG_4476+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfjlUB2x90e_6OM_UoYaKeoofc8cQHedGHIsPCN1Hj6jLU3cCbudeZeYWVbAFpK_Z7lbJ0eEFbgVU8sq_oPvpCecM8yFGrgPqPzg8XqRMWEp1RVN6fQ_fXJNB_2Oz207BLP8nZQObbImg/s640/IMG_4476+%25282%2529.JPG" width="480" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNylogo4xsqSifvAOtQeklaj6xRH3nE-JMk1aGD2p2a2H7p3LOcW74YUDYrlE6QHBASgKizwO2seg7DJ0c1VkW2ekx6GvzyfIMOKEZkqrUQ-0CMyRF-0pMb4Nvck12oD9K5r8T5cHUZq4/s1600/IMG_4481+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNylogo4xsqSifvAOtQeklaj6xRH3nE-JMk1aGD2p2a2H7p3LOcW74YUDYrlE6QHBASgKizwO2seg7DJ0c1VkW2ekx6GvzyfIMOKEZkqrUQ-0CMyRF-0pMb4Nvck12oD9K5r8T5cHUZq4/s640/IMG_4481+%25282%2529.JPG" width="480" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3GClg5VxM3BsdFu7ZDc1jq8sq6vEPa_dmSozqjv-OlqoBk-FpDUBFlgkja6R86U67mqAQEYSqIJuSFDgRqh1xCFA2FuPU2a4a9bjjMxuO7q7UVIwLZOCICnf9089MD9QoIXKrcWq1nTs/s1600/IMG_4499.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3GClg5VxM3BsdFu7ZDc1jq8sq6vEPa_dmSozqjv-OlqoBk-FpDUBFlgkja6R86U67mqAQEYSqIJuSFDgRqh1xCFA2FuPU2a4a9bjjMxuO7q7UVIwLZOCICnf9089MD9QoIXKrcWq1nTs/s640/IMG_4499.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCj_6E19jhxgp3HDIlgyByLuIvNWbRhDHXjksWbn8E7_wbNGQ3a8dddL_fvWn-PCAM2jUyRFCv0UE17G3HP95hYs_mR1Wc8gh_-h9lYkxkkD18fCkqbZrg9qfj4bCod2XrESsMNFr91lw/s1600/IMG_4500.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCj_6E19jhxgp3HDIlgyByLuIvNWbRhDHXjksWbn8E7_wbNGQ3a8dddL_fvWn-PCAM2jUyRFCv0UE17G3HP95hYs_mR1Wc8gh_-h9lYkxkkD18fCkqbZrg9qfj4bCod2XrESsMNFr91lw/s640/IMG_4500.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzrfE4glSNMRFDpytOuTaGjm-trrmrVYZGE_jfYB4M3m3q8Grdf3tq2wEkEqmPVS86zwh0eKSocRvBSOD1h6vDSBc4FmdpqR6k-X3Wfs3UbyVA_z3IYWDONtuTBnrq8wbHKuYkzjY1hsE/s1600/IMG_4509.JPG" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm9RV60HhKg3XdgNHT_1oZIuWr2R6hpxIPc_nieFZM3UIWOuObXJx2JDI6ZNmgrwtWcdWgdE1Nz7vkrTByXbbxYeqFNWUgG3J4HczeWfqAsBXuRNqIv-tD0ouFkerR7lozcV3Yc3q0nM0/s1600/IMG_4515+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm9RV60HhKg3XdgNHT_1oZIuWr2R6hpxIPc_nieFZM3UIWOuObXJx2JDI6ZNmgrwtWcdWgdE1Nz7vkrTByXbbxYeqFNWUgG3J4HczeWfqAsBXuRNqIv-tD0ouFkerR7lozcV3Yc3q0nM0/s640/IMG_4515+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<b>*</b></div>
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The evening before, I was standing next to a strikingly beautiful woman, who looked like a goddess to me. She was taking photos of Medhi Nassouli as he performed and I wondered who she was. So, when I see her standing at the bottom of the steps leading to the stage, with a <b>guembri </b>in her hand, waiting to go on next, I think: Ah, that makes sense - she's a Gnawan.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Raja Titimba</b></div>
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She has with her two female <b>Gnawi </b>and two male ones and she performs a very different type of Gnawa. She places emphasis on the words and music in a different sort of way, reminding me so much of <b>Amy Winehouse</b>. It's a bit off beat and I like it, plus she has the most beautiful smile. So I'm enjoying this performance very much. At some stage, one of the officials asks me if I'll interview her and I get the impression that it will be back stage afterwards, hopefully with a translator. I jot down half a dozen questions on my note pad and then push it to the back of my mind.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_8rPYFkE-L51g9tBgzqygzHEEH4jLmv7QwL6MLjTRJnuMoHGRiuJ_IBgQrnHHTvtwBnu1Afz9PMJl-h6MyheNaqrqIHOyEBtRGGwwMZ42SwaQYOxR1ncP9g1SClyeCxq8IM-ZWriv8nI/s1600/IMG_4516+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_8rPYFkE-L51g9tBgzqygzHEEH4jLmv7QwL6MLjTRJnuMoHGRiuJ_IBgQrnHHTvtwBnu1Afz9PMJl-h6MyheNaqrqIHOyEBtRGGwwMZ42SwaQYOxR1ncP9g1SClyeCxq8IM-ZWriv8nI/s640/IMG_4516+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8A8khIb0vnHWiD2dfrSVF4u2FnJgvS6Ibk9_yd7CX_jBkjfphIxvkAs1BN0Cjulb3vDJ0cVhidzU4xiw9qZfvZya-9DzW5A5x3qn0-zsyOLJFc3y3Ccxh9nYM47nLDRMhH0oaVA1OFXE/s1600/IMG_4523+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8A8khIb0vnHWiD2dfrSVF4u2FnJgvS6Ibk9_yd7CX_jBkjfphIxvkAs1BN0Cjulb3vDJ0cVhidzU4xiw9qZfvZya-9DzW5A5x3qn0-zsyOLJFc3y3Ccxh9nYM47nLDRMhH0oaVA1OFXE/s640/IMG_4523+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWp_9UUC4FCw8eAx6XxnN320xLJyKJuQ2eb9_RqLyqLMMPg1EE40wGiDt3EZJWFtHOZMaxS4d61AlyrkqZ3-HZBNzE-XJSDrRa_kHGHY9qOlntwvZI-glihuEjlTJXsTuli6JF-i2dFao/s1600/IMG_4526.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWp_9UUC4FCw8eAx6XxnN320xLJyKJuQ2eb9_RqLyqLMMPg1EE40wGiDt3EZJWFtHOZMaxS4d61AlyrkqZ3-HZBNzE-XJSDrRa_kHGHY9qOlntwvZI-glihuEjlTJXsTuli6JF-i2dFao/s640/IMG_4526.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif3MayB_FSebIrSWRJgX2iyhk8u4CkYY5LZ76T5qu8rn9jQAPPjlidfjkhwprovZFbjoJ6W2FpegC327uz4fYiPbr4Yiq_nsnsTNcN5tdg27egoSq2MHNkOfvLE3yglL_7Vt9gKYiCQHE/s1600/IMG_4521+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif3MayB_FSebIrSWRJgX2iyhk8u4CkYY5LZ76T5qu8rn9jQAPPjlidfjkhwprovZFbjoJ6W2FpegC327uz4fYiPbr4Yiq_nsnsTNcN5tdg27egoSq2MHNkOfvLE3yglL_7Vt9gKYiCQHE/s640/IMG_4521+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>There's that Gnawi again on the right so this is his third performance</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi26HTKVQOfG1hbSO4LLP5ZK_vcVkvPAfwXFBeKuS3Hhi9Soijya9-r0GU9nSs2zzVY1acCy1PhMzUttBZCtA7hCPsuF-QLoRvVpDXNlPRL5wGTitgRIbYwAH7AEGfbo9xompgcgzArTUQ/s1600/IMG_4524+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi26HTKVQOfG1hbSO4LLP5ZK_vcVkvPAfwXFBeKuS3Hhi9Soijya9-r0GU9nSs2zzVY1acCy1PhMzUttBZCtA7hCPsuF-QLoRvVpDXNlPRL5wGTitgRIbYwAH7AEGfbo9xompgcgzArTUQ/s640/IMG_4524+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2hFvis2d5HbusHiyZUYihcuson0tyTrE41F22rl0WdrzuayaJKtzfL63q72InJB2lCilMF7GuwGURRf9uE6V_MU3IevMuCPq-PjD1F9uKUYL-g5bYjYvbwQd8QXQ4fY_u69M1VaR4BM8/s1600/IMG_4528.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2hFvis2d5HbusHiyZUYihcuson0tyTrE41F22rl0WdrzuayaJKtzfL63q72InJB2lCilMF7GuwGURRf9uE6V_MU3IevMuCPq-PjD1F9uKUYL-g5bYjYvbwQd8QXQ4fY_u69M1VaR4BM8/s640/IMG_4528.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhStJVHyXiwvFBEhslq9XsRn5xSIjSs2x5DQlEidjniWczrvS2hSih-f96zxoq-NE_V9VT2KT8xtfNdOy8ETmHO9aZjVYsmdeRL24UDqqdw26qtlYJ3ttrPhB0vUTtf_ig8mW7_n03GZKk/s1600/IMG_4533.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhStJVHyXiwvFBEhslq9XsRn5xSIjSs2x5DQlEidjniWczrvS2hSih-f96zxoq-NE_V9VT2KT8xtfNdOy8ETmHO9aZjVYsmdeRL24UDqqdw26qtlYJ3ttrPhB0vUTtf_ig8mW7_n03GZKk/s640/IMG_4533.JPG" width="480" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhxmaY8S9RfOyNifILStiO-60Qjh45TcLY_jmYGqUlQXTHlEEBMMrcxn2VpkcyhV4NmEs0RiSbi72_BkFNfeYnKsXtxGbw5btbcmyK6LIIDpa2vhVcQkEC9yhCPnqRMuJcc4fZWkZfoss/s1600/IMG_E4535.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhxmaY8S9RfOyNifILStiO-60Qjh45TcLY_jmYGqUlQXTHlEEBMMrcxn2VpkcyhV4NmEs0RiSbi72_BkFNfeYnKsXtxGbw5btbcmyK6LIIDpa2vhVcQkEC9yhCPnqRMuJcc4fZWkZfoss/s640/IMG_E4535.JPG" width="434" /></a><br />
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The performance is over and suddenly I'm being propelled up the steps, onto the stage and next to Titimba. Ah, they want me to hand her a <b>Commemorative Certificate</b> and talk a little about the festival. A microphone is thrust into my hand and I'm led to an optimum position on the stage to make my speech. But what speech? I'm on my own here and so I just open my mouth and hope that something reasonably sensible will come out.<br />
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I start with <b>As-salamu alaykum</b> and the audience seem to like that. Then I apologise for speaking in English and I say what a <b>fantastic festival</b> it is. Then the certificate is put into my hands and I whisper to Titimba: Do you speak English? She replies: No! So, what's a girl to do? Totally instinctively I raise my fist into the air and shout <b>GIRL POWER</b>. It's the only way I can show how much I appreciate her performance. I hope I didn't offend anyone by that but it just seemed right at the time.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK3aLQH5YwWaodTMGAFDd5C626Twi4iTvciJuhXmjhrWMgx79ZRBRncrLbiQurTKRIqE_aX-RXTpcrTtXTNYb4-LJHUcUVcZaKmqzH9UQjZVVWUpMB-fSUZm6ujdkg1CwUj0troPJbjXY/s1600/FB_IMG_1562013022853.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK3aLQH5YwWaodTMGAFDd5C626Twi4iTvciJuhXmjhrWMgx79ZRBRncrLbiQurTKRIqE_aX-RXTpcrTtXTNYb4-LJHUcUVcZaKmqzH9UQjZVVWUpMB-fSUZm6ujdkg1CwUj0troPJbjXY/s640/FB_IMG_1562013022853.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<i>Photograph courtesy of Mohamed Elkortas</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSixNmmy-az0Y6zPWvqLIMhEahVasYFh033m-PKjrk5EMeQYrSO8BEKJELNpa5_fXH25sBXECqPS75gtgYW3GFvvrcBiwZv3Vt6O7ULilwNeVuP0vTQ3TJqxrpPWmra-UFhuzt0IuhDso/s1600/FB_IMG_1562013031305.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSixNmmy-az0Y6zPWvqLIMhEahVasYFh033m-PKjrk5EMeQYrSO8BEKJELNpa5_fXH25sBXECqPS75gtgYW3GFvvrcBiwZv3Vt6O7ULilwNeVuP0vTQ3TJqxrpPWmra-UFhuzt0IuhDso/s640/FB_IMG_1562013031305.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<i>Photograph courtsey of Mohamed Elkortas</i><br />
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Very wisely, someone grabs the microphone off me because I could have gone on for some time and I give Titimba the certificate and we hug. And then we stand holding the certificate for the photographers to take their photographs.. I know what to do because I've seen this happen after every act. And then I'm staggering back down the steps, wondering : Did I just do that? But boy - was that fun.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0tK-UwrOk5lrY2ht1XPY3Cp_8bdom8GnB0KaCmM2euKIrp5jQhI1zwFtDkLKx0ZLYvVYkVgD_F0wOxfvyqKck49lBLBMNo97bLNL_UQ-aTEuKcmMpqpaAvRk1Imjc9Enrt4qsQn94t1s/s1600/FB_IMG_1562010135364.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0tK-UwrOk5lrY2ht1XPY3Cp_8bdom8GnB0KaCmM2euKIrp5jQhI1zwFtDkLKx0ZLYvVYkVgD_F0wOxfvyqKck49lBLBMNo97bLNL_UQ-aTEuKcmMpqpaAvRk1Imjc9Enrt4qsQn94t1s/s640/FB_IMG_1562010135364.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
<br />
<i>Photograph courtesy of Mohamed Elkortas</i><br />
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<b> *</b><br />
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And now to the last act - <b>Maalem Monsiff Bouboual </b> and his <b>Gnawi </b>and again, it's another style of Gnawa.<br />
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<i>That smoke, by the way, is deliberate</i></div>
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<b>*</b></div>
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The music is over but there are more <b>Commemorative Certificates</b> to be handed out. This time it's for the crew. So, a big <b>shout out</b> to the crew, without whose help no festival can take place. These back stage guys do a fantastic job and deserve merits in their own rights. I don't have names but I'm sure you'll recognise them from these final photographs.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTPYnDotBcwRuUX8mOIHba2TjucnoHOGenlGRUkCs9yXepAaPmWQgoFSBT35Dd876rmZxkj5Zj442jtQ-jX5UkTMC6-dhg54CjdklulkhFiiroLYy4TZBjvTzTF53IMuO3JimimmY-OBQ/s1600/IMG_E4575.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTPYnDotBcwRuUX8mOIHba2TjucnoHOGenlGRUkCs9yXepAaPmWQgoFSBT35Dd876rmZxkj5Zj442jtQ-jX5UkTMC6-dhg54CjdklulkhFiiroLYy4TZBjvTzTF53IMuO3JimimmY-OBQ/s640/IMG_E4575.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlm0Wg53gaVTCTbkidCIOnqwGM63Sgo7vAN26tvyOMh-9I66F1KekMi_DdowzZLHCxK7RrQXkLfoV5EPvhwtfXFe_AD-vgDnyyPYQt0o3qPvApSWQmjm3540TcU_Q0NCXFVVa3NOD-2Gw/s1600/IMG_4579+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlm0Wg53gaVTCTbkidCIOnqwGM63Sgo7vAN26tvyOMh-9I66F1KekMi_DdowzZLHCxK7RrQXkLfoV5EPvhwtfXFe_AD-vgDnyyPYQt0o3qPvApSWQmjm3540TcU_Q0NCXFVVa3NOD-2Gw/s640/IMG_4579+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkT-Za14eWvo7vbok2HRt8awyJYcAyryW4EYZlc-LP1CyMxwg2IUkgZtCxjMj8C46fwf60H08STOcbolfIgGkqKUAIDocrfgzNEz5crecg1BqTZI2zmACB_5IJfpLFxw24TAYIyXPadxM/s1600/IMG_4428+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkT-Za14eWvo7vbok2HRt8awyJYcAyryW4EYZlc-LP1CyMxwg2IUkgZtCxjMj8C46fwf60H08STOcbolfIgGkqKUAIDocrfgzNEz5crecg1BqTZI2zmACB_5IJfpLFxw24TAYIyXPadxM/s640/IMG_4428+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<i>I'm pretty sure that I have several photographs of the guy in the striped robe taken at The Essaouira Gnawa and World music Festival in 2010. He was taking part in the opening procession.</i><br />
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So, the festival is over and we've experienced a <b>fantastic display</b> of <b>Gnawa Music</b>, more than we could ever have dreamed of. All the acts were <b>World Class</b>, the music so <b>exciting</b>, the dancing <b>superb</b>, the costumes absolutely <b>gorgeous</b>, the atmosphere <b>electrifying </b>and the audience <b>appreciative</b>. </div>
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You don't need me to tell you what a wonderful tradition of Gnawa music <b>Morocco </b>has but I'm saying it any way. This is music grown out of the suffering of <b>slavery</b> but now enjoyed by the <b>free</b>.<br />
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In my opinion, Gnawa music is amongst the <b>best in the world </b>and the Gnawi dancers also amongst <b>the best in the world</b>. And there are so many excellent Gnawa groups not just in Morroco but also in other countries, for example <b>Simo Lagnawi's Gnawa London</b>, and many youngsters wanting to learn and perform. And it looks as if the <b>Taroudant Gnawa Festival </b>will be an important showcase for Gnawa in the years to come.<br />
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<b>Will we be coming back next year? Yes please.</b></div>
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<b>And finally, I want to thank again all those who took part in this festival and to the people of Taroudant for being such gracious hosts. May Allah bless you all.</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ZJIKeKzHYI8aC9-ToY7uaD_hoJeYFDzjClsjMjQRXuLoLHxby3shEwtPgkJUESZu_n372t0UvH5TkPC0x3nPdtGwg7LRmklcCdzUSkIfUmcIH4uR89jv6xElL7pxbJ9VuCF0Y_lVbL4/s1600/IMG_4393.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ZJIKeKzHYI8aC9-ToY7uaD_hoJeYFDzjClsjMjQRXuLoLHxby3shEwtPgkJUESZu_n372t0UvH5TkPC0x3nPdtGwg7LRmklcCdzUSkIfUmcIH4uR89jv6xElL7pxbJ9VuCF0Y_lVbL4/s640/IMG_4393.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<i>Maggie and Betsey by the Ramparts of Taroudant</i></div>
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<b>Maggie Knutson </b>is a <b>freelance journalist </b>and has been reporting on <b>Gnawa and also World Music </b>for nearly twenty years. She is also an <b>author </b>with <b>published newspaper articles</b>, <b>short stories</b> and several <b>novels </b>to her name.</div>
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Further music blog posts can be found on her blog site - <b>maggieknutson.com</b><br />
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<b>Photographs : Instagram and Flickr</b><br />
<b>Videos: You Tube</b><br />
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<b>Maggie Knutson </b>is also part of the <b>Daftnotstupid</b> team<br />
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And just a mention here - if you know the names of any of the <b>Gnawi </b>in these photographs, could you please contact me via Facebook giving details. If I get enough information, I'd like to create some sort of <b>catalogue</b> of Gnawi dancers. Thank you.<br />
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THIS POST IS DEDICATED TO MAALEM ABDESLAM KARDAN</div>
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<br />Maggie Knutsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09894181254839872491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692192861754152818.post-48042673677762576172018-11-25T12:09:00.000+00:002019-01-04T18:24:39.491+00:00LIVE CONCERT REVIEW - TITI ROBIN and MEDHI NASSOULI play their TAZIRI MUSIC with HABIB MEFTAH and FRANCIS VARISI first saw <b>Titi Robin </b>and <b>Medhi Nassouli</b> play at the <b>Essaouira Gnawa and World Music Festival </b>last June/July 2017, playing another of their compositions and it was, for many people, including me, the best set of the whole festival. Therefore, I was keen to see them perform again so I was disappointed when neither of them were at the festival this year. However, I discovered that they had recorded a CD called<b> TAZIRI</b>, so I bought a copy from Amazon and again found the music an absolute delight, playing it over and over again in my car, full blast with the roof down, just to let the good people of Winchester get a taste of some world class <b>World Music</b>.<br />
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Fast forward to this October. John Knutson and I were travelling through France and Italy in our Motor Home and by a wonderful piece of good fortune, we discovered that Titi and Medhi were to play their Taziri music with<b> Habib Meftah</b> and <b>Francis Varis</b> in Poitiers on Friday 12th October. We looked at our road map of France and saw that on that day we would only be 50 kilometres away. So, we changed our route so that we could go to the concert.<br />
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The venue was<b> La Quintaine</b>, a theatre built only three years ago with seating capacity of 240 people, therefore providing an intimate atmosphere, situated in the Poitiers suberb of<b> Chasseneuil du Poitou</b>. It's an attractive building with a large foyer fronted by glass windows with a bar (always a plus) and the auditorian has steep rows of seats either side of the central aisle so everyone can get a good view.<br />
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We arrived the day before and the receptionist,<b> Stephanie Millet</b>, could not have been more heplful. She agreed to give our cards to Titi and Medhi with a request that we could video and photograph during the concert and thankfully our request was granted. Also, Stephanie said that we could leave our Motor Home in the parking area for the concert and overnight, which made it so easy for us to just amble over for the concert and leave our dog, Betsey, inside without being kilometres away.<br />
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We got there early so that we could get a good seat and again fortune was on our side: we got seats right on the front row in the
middle. Could not have been better. The stage was ready for the
performers, with blue lights shining down on their chairs and
instruments, which added to the sense of
anticipation.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPcB8z6DPDahAo4Y9CM8amnawuqlFDvG_e2ZO13A3rMQ3bAKqOmzPzpyyQ8Z8MoRPC_bWSpKuLO8-vxcQTWSt1k_dCAhm08z81SVUtX5CFbNGSdXn78jqaZPuTyatY-pjp56iArTE7dvY/s1600/IMG_2364.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPcB8z6DPDahAo4Y9CM8amnawuqlFDvG_e2ZO13A3rMQ3bAKqOmzPzpyyQ8Z8MoRPC_bWSpKuLO8-vxcQTWSt1k_dCAhm08z81SVUtX5CFbNGSdXn78jqaZPuTyatY-pjp56iArTE7dvY/s200/IMG_2364.JPG" width="200" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdi3dsbjovRw2zTpNoGnDnTQb5LDu7Rbbtp2_LDPhkLobXr3i3LOlTatXVZtVtxy1zT3Iowpggro7fizSB0fDZt26m6TithpaYvJVn38aw73yA8N64yrZ8Y-X0pIOenrIjtqT5QSKioKo/s1600/IMG_2366.JPG"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdi3dsbjovRw2zTpNoGnDnTQb5LDu7Rbbtp2_LDPhkLobXr3i3LOlTatXVZtVtxy1zT3Iowpggro7fizSB0fDZt26m6TithpaYvJVn38aw73yA8N64yrZ8Y-X0pIOenrIjtqT5QSKioKo/s200/IMG_2366.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdi3dsbjovRw2zTpNoGnDnTQb5LDu7Rbbtp2_LDPhkLobXr3i3LOlTatXVZtVtxy1zT3Iowpggro7fizSB0fDZt26m6TithpaYvJVn38aw73yA8N64yrZ8Y-X0pIOenrIjtqT5QSKioKo/s1600/IMG_2366.JPG"></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyO4mtCYLhAOiGxWlkgn4FDV0dRdzCcBXiV39PeO01rpkgEJxvtCIz0KoiW4q6TSfsaAXJ4fxL2iJ3_zWvK6fVy5De1VsDL2y7qurF6O5ppCsu3TlmEwoIE2tPBWinCtUSilTqJN9KoE0/s1600/IMG_2363.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyO4mtCYLhAOiGxWlkgn4FDV0dRdzCcBXiV39PeO01rpkgEJxvtCIz0KoiW4q6TSfsaAXJ4fxL2iJ3_zWvK6fVy5De1VsDL2y7qurF6O5ppCsu3TlmEwoIE2tPBWinCtUSilTqJN9KoE0/s200/IMG_2363.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNCXm6D6pmxuVuR6DPNbchYoLhj4L4RM-18cqsA3e_clXpKw21EK3heY4iu_FsOqVGiBWpcTAckXACHCEKRvNzjT3QMaiQCzLtcflKDekFToc1eY9ABBUGusmGCy96Wa3nDsCDOxgzQSY/s1600/IMG_2365.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNCXm6D6pmxuVuR6DPNbchYoLhj4L4RM-18cqsA3e_clXpKw21EK3heY4iu_FsOqVGiBWpcTAckXACHCEKRvNzjT3QMaiQCzLtcflKDekFToc1eY9ABBUGusmGCy96Wa3nDsCDOxgzQSY/s200/IMG_2365.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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The auditorian filled up very nicely and then the main lights dimmed and Medhi and Titi came onto the stage and there was applause and then a hush and then they played the first track of Taziri. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhas4x0EJj-b8YUMbS4N663yfvQ8UsgTwtCoJC2peE4NCwoZGwKFOTpcVk5yFgVb0Kuj7TEAioXvT320oLOWDVscC-o4uMRpbnFYevFpu-hg-UhHYMYtdOBVWMCMq3VqRMNZPLdfZ-7yQ/s1600/IMG_2367.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhas4x0EJj-b8YUMbS4N663yfvQ8UsgTwtCoJC2peE4NCwoZGwKFOTpcVk5yFgVb0Kuj7TEAioXvT320oLOWDVscC-o4uMRpbnFYevFpu-hg-UhHYMYtdOBVWMCMq3VqRMNZPLdfZ-7yQ/s400/IMG_2367.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div>
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<b> Medhi Nassouli </b>(guembri, chant,percussions) and<b> Titi Robin</b> (bouzouq, guitare)<br />
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Then <b>Francis Varis</b> and<b> Hamid Meftah</b> entered the stage and Taziri continued.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzLLYfb2ZEbN9blOHCNvW6RfCQ4OtM_zq67gZ5EIE-efXL3Ix-xbZ1EWDsNXslxO_2AulnThYh90o2eEA5miDD_rNWE-6YgsLxof85iTlL9AGOy1uITHIHNR4GA0RhHC0MMePbzYu0Rnk/s1600/IMG_2404.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzLLYfb2ZEbN9blOHCNvW6RfCQ4OtM_zq67gZ5EIE-efXL3Ix-xbZ1EWDsNXslxO_2AulnThYh90o2eEA5miDD_rNWE-6YgsLxof85iTlL9AGOy1uITHIHNR4GA0RhHC0MMePbzYu0Rnk/s320/IMG_2404.JPG" width="240" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIBpliL8aTzlYn5iYKltEBaiPdWNqRFpJdInK8w_UfHnWRiGsBc-dhdbMsezYalF65N5Xh-0pu3zNMrRst9UtcHwqaIk7pUkl-iDQJP7USNju_RfSKIPh4IGR0NLOuBAIH-feexvNNdKw/s1600/IMG_2406.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIBpliL8aTzlYn5iYKltEBaiPdWNqRFpJdInK8w_UfHnWRiGsBc-dhdbMsezYalF65N5Xh-0pu3zNMrRst9UtcHwqaIk7pUkl-iDQJP7USNju_RfSKIPh4IGR0NLOuBAIH-feexvNNdKw/s320/IMG_2406.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
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<b>Francis Varis</b> (accordeon) and <b>Habib Meftah</b> (percussions)</div>
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We, the audience, were then treated to an evening of absolutely divine music, composed by Titi and Medhi, including Medhi's translation of Titi's French words into Arabic. The original line-up for the CD included <b>Ze Luis Nascrimento</b> (percussions),<b> Foulane Bouhssine</b> (ribab) and<b> Rumberos Catalans</b> (palmas).<b> Francis Varis</b> also featured on the CD and he played in this concert but the power-house that is <b>Habib Meftah</b> had to do the work of the missing three, playing a variety of percussion instruments with tremendous energy and timing. <br />
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It's such clever music, with a melodic tune which creeps away and then comes back full force. Sometimes the music is rather wistful, at other times so exciting you just want to get up and dance. And there are so many influences: Francis' accordian reminded me of France, Titi's guitars of Spain, Medhi's guembri of Morocco and Habib's percussion playing gave the music body and a rythmn that sometimes just went wild with passion. And then there was that tune again bringing everything back. Plus, of course, Medhi's vocals with a voice like melting gold. Genious.<br />
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One of the delightful elements of the concert was not just the way all the instruments and Medhi's singing worked beautifully well together but also their obvious joy in performing and making such fabulous music. They sparked off each other and sometimes Medhi and Habib would challenge each other with their playing and at one stage, Titi, Medhi and Francis just sat motionless, watching Habib going crazy with his interpretation of the music. <br />
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I have this idea that we all take from music, as with literature, what we want and relate to it in a way that touches our own experiences and feelings so I'll let you just listen to the music to enjoy in whatever way you choose. But I would add that this music, for me, gets better the more I listen to it.<br />
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These are the six videos I recorded. They are all on my You Tube site ( <b>Maggie Knutson - You Tube</b>) so you can watch them there as well.<br />
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At the end, when all four performers had left the stage, there was a standing ovation and eventually they returned to the stage. But Titi had a trick up his sleeve: he asked the audience to get up and dance whilst they played again. I didn't need any prompts. I kicked off my shoes, got down from my seat and let myself feel the music through my body, as did most of the audience. And then, Medhi invited us to sing along with the refains and that was great fun, too. And then they left the stage and again there was a standing ovation but it really wasn't fair to ask the guys to come back again so eventually we gave up and gradually people headed towards the bar, where Titi and Medhi were signing programmes.<br />
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It was an experience I shall never forget. John and I had seen a lot of beautiful places, in particular the stunning Alps, and met a lot of interesting people and done a lot of enjoyable things during our six week trip but, for me, this concert was way and above the highlight of our travels.<br />
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Just a few more things I want to say:-<br />
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* What is it about <b>percussionists</b>? They seem to absorb the music they are playing and go emotionally into a place of rapture, using all their body as they play. I have now seen four percussionists play like that:<b> Habib Meftah</b> in this concert:<b> Ze Luis Sacramento</b> (in Essaouira last year with Titi and Medhi, plus <b>Shuheb Hasan</b> and <b>Murad Ali Khan</b>), <b>Yacine Ben Ali </b>(Essaouira this year with <b>Maalem Mohktar</b> <b>Gania</b> and <b>Gnawa Africa Experience</b>), and the percussionist with<b> </b><br />
<b>Imarhan</b> (Essaouira this year). It seems as if they can make music from just about anything they touch.<br />
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* I've never seen the accordian being played before and I'd never thought that it was a particularly exciting instrument but I've changed my mind after seeing<b> Francis Varis</b>' performance. He really rocked that accordian and it seemed so unbelievably flexible in his hands, creating the most wonderful of music. And at times, he seemed to be on a different planet altogether, so consumed was he by the music.<br />
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<b>* Habib Meftah</b> is part of a collaboration of musicians who have just released a CD called <b>The Long Journey</b>, which is available on <b>Amazon</b>. The principle artists are <b>Roger Waters </b>(from Pink Floyd<b>)</b>,<b> Mahmoud Darwish</b> and <b>Mohammad Motamedi</b> and they call themselves <b>Le Trio Joubran</b>. <br />
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* <b>Taziri</b> is also available from <b>Amazon </b>(streaming, audio CD or MPS download)<br />
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* And finally, here is a selection of the <b>photographs</b> I took :-<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvfyPXcJktbhbGxpZN3ueOR3FDhpunBSeoqnuqp7MIYxBBB3X97uNpcUZyI96zo7ATKeZH8RdWEPWhNUZ_IF6xy-ywQ1H6rdtNCOVIEafX2fpNPucuRKzPmnxDYQS0Onb-w9O3DyDQ1bQ/s1600/IMG_2471.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvfyPXcJktbhbGxpZN3ueOR3FDhpunBSeoqnuqp7MIYxBBB3X97uNpcUZyI96zo7ATKeZH8RdWEPWhNUZ_IF6xy-ywQ1H6rdtNCOVIEafX2fpNPucuRKzPmnxDYQS0Onb-w9O3DyDQ1bQ/s640/IMG_2471.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8_yJZGWpc-1x_lKlXGcG0OgDcS5Sr10v-yvwUOmOedcTj8KX50nGmqMKipx7d2M0c6uSqtaYg-WFOfVVjUgw_bXfOJgThyphenhyphen0ke9ysxEgxuieo76bY3DoAZKSRaF3jNkBOJFpWrVVsQsqI/s1600/IMG_2445.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8_yJZGWpc-1x_lKlXGcG0OgDcS5Sr10v-yvwUOmOedcTj8KX50nGmqMKipx7d2M0c6uSqtaYg-WFOfVVjUgw_bXfOJgThyphenhyphen0ke9ysxEgxuieo76bY3DoAZKSRaF3jNkBOJFpWrVVsQsqI/s320/IMG_2445.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4RTmuX95W2mtmTxU_Ae18IUXmBp3QI46zyYK11CNQUoMh0ZT9cZ9GIaFSwINgmuEjjD8oVwiNOyoaBsggL7eATyXIWtTOIwiGyXkPYq8X-IjMzUgwl3h8_vaVKvuyddXXZongvsljmOk/s1600/IMG_2417.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4RTmuX95W2mtmTxU_Ae18IUXmBp3QI46zyYK11CNQUoMh0ZT9cZ9GIaFSwINgmuEjjD8oVwiNOyoaBsggL7eATyXIWtTOIwiGyXkPYq8X-IjMzUgwl3h8_vaVKvuyddXXZongvsljmOk/s320/IMG_2417.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFim8Bjq2JzKnvo7J3vM9p4WYC4w4-6SNlkrfSKcuNFSsaKfcI9IO_Sb_xtv4OdfmqHDC_vsYp70IRdYu8fdYaCvmDL1h8V1cUXluC_obwR14Cz0SJyJ_stStQovvbN-Agksk1J3YauC4/s1600/IMG_2420.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFim8Bjq2JzKnvo7J3vM9p4WYC4w4-6SNlkrfSKcuNFSsaKfcI9IO_Sb_xtv4OdfmqHDC_vsYp70IRdYu8fdYaCvmDL1h8V1cUXluC_obwR14Cz0SJyJ_stStQovvbN-Agksk1J3YauC4/s320/IMG_2420.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsSMokIEVIetmz3zdzwxTIJjd_rjm8QSfLtH345CLJ7m8yvAeAjuS0pXjCah1SfY0rbe_jSoWuxPNBXfidWumq8_py8rWtW9N7lXkbqTpgb1ba9CQqgKlOsQOFLCIgMTaBLE6hWUQal7M/s1600/IMG_2474.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsSMokIEVIetmz3zdzwxTIJjd_rjm8QSfLtH345CLJ7m8yvAeAjuS0pXjCah1SfY0rbe_jSoWuxPNBXfidWumq8_py8rWtW9N7lXkbqTpgb1ba9CQqgKlOsQOFLCIgMTaBLE6hWUQal7M/s320/IMG_2474.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXoBbsQHTqtC-a7279RKz4teoBFN8G6QuRGYUEgXLk9Mpk8LRlvTeYcib82XgvHZShviG8xvLFOuJjZzGfROTpFwBrjTFxMAS7yFfA9ENMKrnkUyEigHveaBD2RJjDyBap7KibH9qRpzE/s1600/IMG_2435.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXoBbsQHTqtC-a7279RKz4teoBFN8G6QuRGYUEgXLk9Mpk8LRlvTeYcib82XgvHZShviG8xvLFOuJjZzGfROTpFwBrjTFxMAS7yFfA9ENMKrnkUyEigHveaBD2RJjDyBap7KibH9qRpzE/s320/IMG_2435.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN6_5xxr1C9z71nor4eh7h5CssWuz1C1YyG9PrSw_GOkRZ0shpjF8PKseQF6-9zS_lX6o0rsz5scOT-hZ3O-33WjzvwKjdmBkunuJBuCfJLgJAWpIqqnhs-ZHsjIGNxdyPuWsmofYIop4/s1600/IMG_2438.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN6_5xxr1C9z71nor4eh7h5CssWuz1C1YyG9PrSw_GOkRZ0shpjF8PKseQF6-9zS_lX6o0rsz5scOT-hZ3O-33WjzvwKjdmBkunuJBuCfJLgJAWpIqqnhs-ZHsjIGNxdyPuWsmofYIop4/s320/IMG_2438.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5PyRzDIMGVpIDYCRrwpYluQzHYK3D_3Hvq8CKH671a2TlpPyBL8Ms9Ca4j7TwcFfIDBHjRqLlItG8wmaGLoqo725FxCJqWuS_8P_sy1ob8aLLxIdsauc82XNLCLvvm1JzDJ-7NHP10fU/s1600/IMG_2461.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5PyRzDIMGVpIDYCRrwpYluQzHYK3D_3Hvq8CKH671a2TlpPyBL8Ms9Ca4j7TwcFfIDBHjRqLlItG8wmaGLoqo725FxCJqWuS_8P_sy1ob8aLLxIdsauc82XNLCLvvm1JzDJ-7NHP10fU/s320/IMG_2461.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiegZYuM2PD6sdGS04W8A3z1XkHOB8kgXVx9d9D-GPA7-PJKZuPyXgJAax9cBkKFigjfoZKMkm342Rp1VRF3La8fUI0EpIz_BtYYy9oQRqxP9i6vJ2SW-3qzBAIhWBg-rjPcW0oeK9Wugc/s1600/IMG_2476.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiegZYuM2PD6sdGS04W8A3z1XkHOB8kgXVx9d9D-GPA7-PJKZuPyXgJAax9cBkKFigjfoZKMkm342Rp1VRF3La8fUI0EpIz_BtYYy9oQRqxP9i6vJ2SW-3qzBAIhWBg-rjPcW0oeK9Wugc/s320/IMG_2476.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRD7o8YKKoyBW8ua-CCcJEeGVv-YWtbwcuS4jpB1yzpYiZQynRTt1Hf-W6p1yVsib7a0phN3ui3oqV7kl8ksUKRYHsiNi4PeOj39D_9g7BuiwzDA-sboOjt0rjblKnSn6Jsoz00BZX7BM/s1600/IMG_2423.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRD7o8YKKoyBW8ua-CCcJEeGVv-YWtbwcuS4jpB1yzpYiZQynRTt1Hf-W6p1yVsib7a0phN3ui3oqV7kl8ksUKRYHsiNi4PeOj39D_9g7BuiwzDA-sboOjt0rjblKnSn6Jsoz00BZX7BM/s320/IMG_2423.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijdJn7pukdftzUXYn_xkzlVORaOXQA6yH6_-XzUFzEomVM-jcldYbONSlZHur1SnSxWpzMSOpDQqRF5BO36z51SipSvKn9FneqJJQKzBxa4mP0nz2IiMsobYb_om4cEJoRJscoV6DyOsY/s1600/IMG_2446.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijdJn7pukdftzUXYn_xkzlVORaOXQA6yH6_-XzUFzEomVM-jcldYbONSlZHur1SnSxWpzMSOpDQqRF5BO36z51SipSvKn9FneqJJQKzBxa4mP0nz2IiMsobYb_om4cEJoRJscoV6DyOsY/s320/IMG_2446.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzyySakf0m3x-obIbr5xkPlZ0Tmm_HH41XPN6BYqPR47sVxJW6Lc6RBV1Q7f56H4TurVcmaa51DxSlMsAM0F9zsg_ET802V34FGbNq1ir3EMc6sU-RvfCt3daJEQR_U_MHPqntfDLNuw4/s1600/IMG_2446.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzyySakf0m3x-obIbr5xkPlZ0Tmm_HH41XPN6BYqPR47sVxJW6Lc6RBV1Q7f56H4TurVcmaa51DxSlMsAM0F9zsg_ET802V34FGbNq1ir3EMc6sU-RvfCt3daJEQR_U_MHPqntfDLNuw4/s320/IMG_2446.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy9ea83WBhCHu4Kdf4p2P9rKnKzz6Isk9xfzJFeuCYM3Ma1LiqL0aiQIRtmOLwlo-Kl0jo02DknJo9Dc_yTKngPyAfS9dD6SWsQQUHO-wStP9x3s1n_5PHosKq1bFVMh6rUm2wseEPfgY/s1600/IMG_2428.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy9ea83WBhCHu4Kdf4p2P9rKnKzz6Isk9xfzJFeuCYM3Ma1LiqL0aiQIRtmOLwlo-Kl0jo02DknJo9Dc_yTKngPyAfS9dD6SWsQQUHO-wStP9x3s1n_5PHosKq1bFVMh6rUm2wseEPfgY/s320/IMG_2428.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZo5BBaNgiZhH3VzBj-CcU2UAm6wKzW1e7n42ZRBYInIt0LGO45Fb01twytPoFXv9jb1yvAZTbdmnxEzKMc6ezWEZyFcTv11e9o3kooi6Mkgi0ywVgHZGm90PbMbJz9-VVV7P8pGnGZfM/s1600/IMG_2439.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZo5BBaNgiZhH3VzBj-CcU2UAm6wKzW1e7n42ZRBYInIt0LGO45Fb01twytPoFXv9jb1yvAZTbdmnxEzKMc6ezWEZyFcTv11e9o3kooi6Mkgi0ywVgHZGm90PbMbJz9-VVV7P8pGnGZfM/s320/IMG_2439.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid-ECeEzJg5-ZDJ5VsqZjHB-3t8nrylQQGBPddZ7EnHwWOs6lSBpes3u7BNaB6CXJLa1yEAZGS41fnQ4PIrVfXekg-VcB-0WKQmgD9zKbwFsrp__puVDuKDl2_brHOFeb51CX7qn_ireg/s1600/IMG_2437.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid-ECeEzJg5-ZDJ5VsqZjHB-3t8nrylQQGBPddZ7EnHwWOs6lSBpes3u7BNaB6CXJLa1yEAZGS41fnQ4PIrVfXekg-VcB-0WKQmgD9zKbwFsrp__puVDuKDl2_brHOFeb51CX7qn_ireg/s320/IMG_2437.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7S_cgtSAH1MjpvgVxMQpRynHbh5iwb1bjyRjSi1WDu_NPKvG7HNneUJVnMUrDbWtWYjiY8VugGmzQKKlEQ4qw9-iwNvmP533nV8Se9RCtslNVyVuBmxwrShGdXQTyIcahsPtx0umvpnE/s1600/IMG_2479.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7S_cgtSAH1MjpvgVxMQpRynHbh5iwb1bjyRjSi1WDu_NPKvG7HNneUJVnMUrDbWtWYjiY8VugGmzQKKlEQ4qw9-iwNvmP533nV8Se9RCtslNVyVuBmxwrShGdXQTyIcahsPtx0umvpnE/s320/IMG_2479.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKdzolImnZhCsws3MZ3hdxHiwiN0JS-f1lDJvn5P9JepzzoniOaoOMU4xSVWE4bogmhdVo1c1ILyhBkduUwTWR7tj7K9s_bK65nt0-0ZERwRubRH8Xp5P_5GXaHRtE3sIKBzsTMi-SBKs/s1600/IMG_2472.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKdzolImnZhCsws3MZ3hdxHiwiN0JS-f1lDJvn5P9JepzzoniOaoOMU4xSVWE4bogmhdVo1c1ILyhBkduUwTWR7tj7K9s_bK65nt0-0ZERwRubRH8Xp5P_5GXaHRtE3sIKBzsTMi-SBKs/s320/IMG_2472.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiItbqmPBkqpwvtYUiJmht9ZTQonzlwXHocVUOiLrNPNxWEVmqmDgJiWG6UZtxd2144yfVPI9BWBFzMWk7iFdbIFwNke4QSOIXxPdm8w75ysCYo2qBT9APQW0cYU3FaDD175G8p0y8nl8Y/s1600/IMG_2411.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiItbqmPBkqpwvtYUiJmht9ZTQonzlwXHocVUOiLrNPNxWEVmqmDgJiWG6UZtxd2144yfVPI9BWBFzMWk7iFdbIFwNke4QSOIXxPdm8w75ysCYo2qBT9APQW0cYU3FaDD175G8p0y8nl8Y/s320/IMG_2411.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQD2fgWCFxmodQnViQ6QHafOumKyf036IrxQjCdI6EvpCNKKcf7GbvRs0lI_dlsdjcUQ-1ojekKuRXjSOwiMfL5m-rCqMih6Tl26IH3Ge3RnNYDjReRbCxbg6Ox6TLcRyXNlzA18bICN0/s1600/IMG_2454.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQD2fgWCFxmodQnViQ6QHafOumKyf036IrxQjCdI6EvpCNKKcf7GbvRs0lI_dlsdjcUQ-1ojekKuRXjSOwiMfL5m-rCqMih6Tl26IH3Ge3RnNYDjReRbCxbg6Ox6TLcRyXNlzA18bICN0/s320/IMG_2454.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1wnxatyP3K5OfdeI5U70dn_czTZoQ9y50NHOyQKnMCI0OwoNdXJeuHhuAUR2BPETyul1aV-2GCOpY3_9feefFk8u406uDOW_gCSw0kwHFXyfxl-o5-X23SB1tV8hDBHpB6oCewUMUu8o/s1600/IMG_2422.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1wnxatyP3K5OfdeI5U70dn_czTZoQ9y50NHOyQKnMCI0OwoNdXJeuHhuAUR2BPETyul1aV-2GCOpY3_9feefFk8u406uDOW_gCSw0kwHFXyfxl-o5-X23SB1tV8hDBHpB6oCewUMUu8o/s320/IMG_2422.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSjBgmpDhDPPoExz-yIySwQhbH9TZPWXhw-JzK2J3cmfDc_ogUC90KWhK1880DSrRKiI7iQN8fvWbx3Gc6wY02LnXO6xgGlZaLrB97MblYn8GHam9_H8W6ywDr3wDI-5sVlDXd1kYOS7k/s1600/IMG_2446.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSjBgmpDhDPPoExz-yIySwQhbH9TZPWXhw-JzK2J3cmfDc_ogUC90KWhK1880DSrRKiI7iQN8fvWbx3Gc6wY02LnXO6xgGlZaLrB97MblYn8GHam9_H8W6ywDr3wDI-5sVlDXd1kYOS7k/s320/IMG_2446.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNRdlZCkMLIlnOERVavsR9RCsvAm-4q4vDlg5afxoISz5QWt3lC-oWFKi6PL5pX9ruvYaa6OZ-vsDRcOI5rb6gq_pxNb3-bLsCWxHZFi9DwUr0ninmXxyZ1XEyTn_UqR6lhXCYfl7NV9Y/s1600/IMG_2474.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNRdlZCkMLIlnOERVavsR9RCsvAm-4q4vDlg5afxoISz5QWt3lC-oWFKi6PL5pX9ruvYaa6OZ-vsDRcOI5rb6gq_pxNb3-bLsCWxHZFi9DwUr0ninmXxyZ1XEyTn_UqR6lhXCYfl7NV9Y/s320/IMG_2474.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNqG47v60HHS1mSuM9dQr94MFfX8wZ9zzBDJVmkWpkFi-grsm16u3IRiPk74wS-jHY9wCxT2pMcx6vWU-MTSVVAU-fQ0u50MxlLMZCqrrlUytp0CwrZ7FUbfMX_PTMK-h8piXEq59-0Kc/s1600/IMG_2475.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNqG47v60HHS1mSuM9dQr94MFfX8wZ9zzBDJVmkWpkFi-grsm16u3IRiPk74wS-jHY9wCxT2pMcx6vWU-MTSVVAU-fQ0u50MxlLMZCqrrlUytp0CwrZ7FUbfMX_PTMK-h8piXEq59-0Kc/s320/IMG_2475.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYHQhEH_bOkaguyX8s9z-stCC_y4natofkaR0uAygw5dmCIX4RN-i2FGaUB2NVELLx7qX86Co6LPthDwP4x2BFEzftFsMXDYnYwucz9tcNuaRREBAdBESHvHZjE8cingrXFkLQx17KMsk/s1600/IMG_2473.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYHQhEH_bOkaguyX8s9z-stCC_y4natofkaR0uAygw5dmCIX4RN-i2FGaUB2NVELLx7qX86Co6LPthDwP4x2BFEzftFsMXDYnYwucz9tcNuaRREBAdBESHvHZjE8cingrXFkLQx17KMsk/s320/IMG_2473.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhuGNgkJf385E6yil0nRhDqZEOuple3K_emfgKyMyPLKEBcjzAKmsiXnYeQCJhod7nGEUXoOJqH1uWV-Rfdk5Ie9d8dXFOQL5wG-_tS1yKYSo4XklK5ZEvYWkqiQIkogGlZZiWst3iudI/s1600/IMG_2466.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhuGNgkJf385E6yil0nRhDqZEOuple3K_emfgKyMyPLKEBcjzAKmsiXnYeQCJhod7nGEUXoOJqH1uWV-Rfdk5Ie9d8dXFOQL5wG-_tS1yKYSo4XklK5ZEvYWkqiQIkogGlZZiWst3iudI/s320/IMG_2466.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<b>Medhi Nassouli</b> and<b> Maggie Knutson.</b> <b><br /></b></div>
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<b>Maggie Knutson </b>is a fiction writer, journalist, blogger and music fan. Her latest novel <b>Walkies</b> is available now - to order a copy, write to <b>knutsonmaggie@hotmail.com</b><br />
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<br />Maggie Knutsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09894181254839872491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692192861754152818.post-23993550243622642592018-08-27T18:24:00.001+01:002018-08-28T18:13:37.759+01:00Music Review - AMMAR 808 by MAGHREB UNITED<br />
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I'm a great fan of multi-talented <b>Medhi Nassouli</b>, who, as we all know, is Moroccan, so when I heard that he was part of the group<b> Maghreb United</b>, who have recently brought out a CD, of course I had to buy a copy, which was very easy because I found it on <b>Amazon</b>, although it can also be purchased via <b>Glitterbeat Records</b> and <b>Pan-African Music</b>. Available in CD form or for download or streaming (whatever that is).<br />
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So, I had absolutely no idea what to expect when I put the CD into the player in my car, opened up the roof, put the windows down and set off. What I heard had me almost jumping out of my seat. Because this music is very loud, very exciting and furiously fast. What the ....? was my first thought. This is serious rave music. But I'm in my car and I'm not dancing so it's not just rave music. And the more I listen to it, the more I like it. I hear something new each time it comes round on the loop and I'm thinking: 'Are those Scottish bagpipes?'...'That sounds like music to belly-dance to'...'There's that snake-charming instrument.'...'Now they're all chanting...I wish I could understand the words.'<br />
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So, in order to learn more about this intriguing music, I did what any self-respecting journalist would do; I turned to Google and I googled Maghreb, Maghreb United and Rai music and this is what I learnt:-<br />
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<u><b>Maghreb</b></u> (and apologies if you know this already but I find it fascinating).</div>
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Maghreb means West and in this context it means Northwest Africa including Algeria, Morocco, Tunisia, Libya and Mauritania (a much larger country than it is now). Plus Melilla and Ceuta - both controlled by Spain but disputed by Morocco (I don't know why the Spanish make such a big fuss over Gibraltar being British when they have these footholds in North Africa).<br />
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And, very importantly, it includes the disputed territories in Western Sahara, once known as Spanish Sahara.<br />
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The whole area has a very rich history ranging from the Berber Dynasties to invasion by Rome to conversion to Islam. But what is very evident is that it has been an area of war and turmoil for centuries, which is why <b>Ammar 808</b> is so very relevant today.<br />
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And finally, this year it was estimated that over 100 million people live in the Maghreb, making this a highly populated area.<br />
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<u><b>Maghreb United </b></u></div>
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I got really lucky here because this year <b>The Financial Times</b> and <b>The Guardian</b>, both very well respected newspapers in the UK, wrote favourable reviews this year about the group and the music and I admit freely that this is where I got most of my information from about this group.<br />
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So, Maghreb United is the brain-child of Tunisian <b>Sofyann Ben Yousef</b>, who is the producer and arranger and is responsible for the electronics. The vocalists and musicians are Tunisian <b>Cheb Haasen</b> <b>Tez</b>, Algerian<b> Sofiane Saidi</b> and Moroccan<b> Medhi Nassouli</b>.<b> Khalid Amrah </b>and <b>Jassine Gonzal</b> are Medhi's choir. Medhi also plays the <b>gumbri</b> and <b>Lassad Boughalmi</b> plays<b> gasba flute</b> and <b>zukra bagpipes </b>(both of which I sort of identified.)<br />
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All but one of the ten songs on this CD are traditional <b>Gnawa</b> and <b>Rai</b> but very quickly they lead into bass and percussion, with 'heavy distortion and samples filters,' producing 'rhythms and textures of African drums.' There are also hand-claps and repeated chants with no background music, which add texture and variety to the music.<br />
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The title of the music had me puzzled until I read the article from The Financial Times. 808 comes from the <b>Roland TR 808 synthesiser</b> used by many Western musicians as well and this provides the deep bass drum sound which moves the music along at quite some pace. But as yet all I know about Ammar is that it's an Arabic name.<br />
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Now, what had me very interested is this: In May 2015 the regional co-operative of foreign ministers of <b>The Arab Maghreb Union</b> met to discuss the need for stability in this region and this is the aim of Maghreb United through their music - a <b>united Maghrebi</b> <b>region</b>, which also celebrates the regional differences. While reading about this, I'm reminded of the unrest and fighting within all the regions within the UK and Northern Ireland in the past, including the recent past in Northern Ireland, and how we are now united but without losing those culturally rich differences. The same is true about the European Union. It's still within living memory of many that European countries were at war with each other. (And for the record, I did<b> not</b> vote for the UK to leave the EU.) So, it can be done. The Financial Times puts it most eloquently: <b>The music of Maghreb United is 'a deliberate projection of a positive possible future; insistent, relentless, entranced.'</b> <br />
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And finally<b> <u>Rai</u></b>.<br />
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I include this because I didn't know myself. Rai is a form of Algerian Folk music dating back to the 1920s and singers of Rai are called Cheb - hence <b>Cheb Haasen Tej</b>.<br />
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The three vocalists are very different and again, this adds to the variety within the music. However, I do have a favourite track and that's<b> track two</b> with <b>Medhi Nassouli</b>. Medhi just belts the song out hell for leather, sometimes holding notes for so long so that they defy gravity, and that makes it so very exciting.<br />
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My only regret is that I don't understand the words so if any kind soul out there who buys the CD, downloads or streams - and I strongly suggest you do - could give me an English translation of just one of the ten tracks, particularly track two, I'd be eternally grateful. <b>Merci Beaucoup</b>.<br />
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<b>Maggie Knutson</b> is an author, blogger and fan of <b> The Essaouira Gnawa and World Music Festival </b>and <b>Gnawa London </b>and <b>Gnawa Blues All Stars</b> (both led by the charismatic <b>Simo Lagnawi</b>), <b>Gnawa Manchester</b>, <b>Gnawa France</b>, <b>Gnawa Germany </b>and <b>Gnawa Japan</b>. This looks rather like an encouraging trend, folks, for those of us who think that the world should wake up to the wonderful music of <b>Gnawa</b>.<br />
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<br />Maggie Knutsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09894181254839872491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692192861754152818.post-24194547671878555542018-08-03T12:00:00.002+01:002018-08-03T12:00:40.270+01:00MY REPORT ON THE 2018 ESSAOUIRA GNAWA AND WORLD MUSIC FESTIVAL<br />
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<i><b>Maalem Mohktar Gania playing with Africa Gnawa Experience at The Borj</b></i></div>
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I can't really remember life before I started coming to the festival round about 2001 but I'm sure it was much duller than it is now. For someone who didn't like Gnawa music to begin with, I've done a complete turnaround and am now one of its keenest fans. So, the festival, which usually takes place in June/July and now lasts for three days, is always an exciting delight and each year is so very different from the others, discovering fantastic music that I've never known before, and this year I witnessed, again, some truly remarkable music.<br />
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But before I write about the music, I want to make two points:<br />
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Firstly, the <b>weather</b> was unusually kind: hot but not unbearable during the day, pleasingly warm in the evenings and nights. So often, we have had to battle ridiculous winds, sand storms and cold temperatures so the good weather was a real bonus.<br />
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Secondly, I need to tell you about the<b> Festival Press Office </b>because for the second year running they have totally alienated two of the festival's keenest Internet reporters - John Knutson and myself (The <b>DaftNotStupid</b> Team) - making our jobs (unpaid) far more difficult. If you want to take good videos and photos you really need to be in the press pit and for three years, the Press Office, recognising our contributions to coverage of the festival, granted us camera press passes. Last year, however, they refused, saying that since it was the 20th anniversary of the festival, there were too many requests for such passes. Fair enough, we thought, although there were a fair number of young women taking the occasional photo on their phone in the press pits and then chatting and dancing. And at the beach stage there were barely any photographers at all.<br />
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Same thing this year except the Press Office didn't even respond to our request. We only learnt from a third party that they had yet again refused our request. They just never replied to us. And again there was plenty of room most of the time in the press pit at Moulay Hassan and, barely a photographer at the beach, and all those young women with phones.<br />
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Luckily, we had bought VIP badges but at Moulay Hassan they proved to be almost worthless. That venue was packed to bursting with some people actually sitting on the floor. I reckon that they sold far more VIP passes than there was room for and I predict that if this continues, someone will be injured. And John was stopped from videoing in the VIP areas so he only recorded the sound which is not in any way as good as a decent video and John has been posting decent videos from the festival for years. With more than a million viewers he was obviously doing something right.<b> BUT NOT THIS YEAR.</b><br />
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As for me, I managed to get near the front to record Imarhan at the beach and was right at the front at the Borj for Maalem Mokhtar Gania and Africa Gnawa Experience so I captured some good videos and photographs. But as for Moulay Hassan, it was impossible to squeeze in at the front of the VIP area because I encountered such unpleasant opposition from people who were way taller than me and trying to get back out was also a nightmare. <br />
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Therefore, our coverage of this year's festival is far more limited than in the past and we missed some performances we really wanted to see, including <b>Maalem Said Oughessal with the jazz trio Holland, Hussain and Potter, Asma Hamzaoui and Fatoumata Diawara (</b>oh, how I am all for girl power and the short recording I saw later sounded absolutely awesome<b>)</b> and<b> Maalem Hassan Boussou with Benin International Musical.</b><br />
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So, if any festival performers or anyone who has influence at the festival read this post and value our coverage, could you please contact the Press Office next year and put in a good word for us. <b>Thank you</b>.<br />
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<u><b>So, to the music.</b></u><br />
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The festival opened at Moulay Hassan with<b> Maalem Hamid El Kasri</b> and <b>Snarky Puppy</b> and what an inspired fusion that was. Hamid is a real master of Gnawa, working the audience almost into a frenzy but also encouraging his audience to join in so by himself he is a formidable talent. But team him with Brookly-based Snarky Puppy, who play funk, jazz and R and B, and the music was very, very exciting. Snarky Puppy have such a following that there are people who are jealous that I actually saw them playing live. The violinist in particular was brilliant, playing so quickly that you could hardly believe that that was possible. Watch this video and you'll see what I mean:-<br />
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<b><i>Maalem Hamid El Kasri and Snarky Puppy - Essaouira Gnawa and World Festival 2018</i></b></div>
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(Since the festival, Hamid has played at <b>The Royal Albert Hall </b>with 23 year old musical whizz-kid <b>Jacob Collier</b> and the<b> Metrople Orchestra</b> as part of the<b> BBC Proms </b>and he and his four Gnaoui dancers blew the audience away. He was then due to play at <b>Nells Jazz and Blues Club </b>in London, organised by <b>Raxa Mehta</b> but that was unfortunately postponed due to unforeseen circumstances. However, he did have an impromptu playing at <b>Mo Mo Restaurant</b> in London, which I attended, and then performed at <b>Womad</b>. Maalem Hamid El Kasri is most certainly on a roll.)<br />
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Then I had to make a choice between <b>Hoba Hoba Spiri</b>t at Moulay Hassan and <b>Maalem Omar Hayat </b>in a much smaller venue: Zaouia Issaoua. I saw Hoba, Hoba Spirit some years ago and they were fantastic but I met Omar at Xmas so my loyalty was with him. John calls him: "The Little Richard of Gnawa" because on a big stage he is such an outrageous showman, with flag bearers and I don't know how many Gnaoui dancers. But at Zaouia Issaoua this was obviously a <b>Lila</b>, which is a very spiritual form of Gnawa music, with some people going into trances. Omar emerged with his Gnaoui like a wild man but very soon they sat down and I couldn't see Omar because there was a pillar in front of me. The Lila goes through a process of seven colours with incense and coloured cloths and by colour number four, I had had enough. As you can see, the guy in the red shirt was on his phone most of the time and another prat next to me kept singing along badly and calling out Omar's name and a woman from the audience did some kind of trance dance which diverted attention from the music. Not even sure if it was genuine. Anyway, it was well after one o'clock in the morning and sometimes enough is enough. But here's a little taster. I do, though, prefer Omar on the big stage.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyoz3h5y6w47zAqAbBkBlNb8M_AHFT8J0F2qUYPoN_yeNo314KQngsMOh-P2SeYOxywOIUZtrF28d0HSA1Q8w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<b><i>Maalem Omar Hayat</i></b></div>
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***</div>
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The next evening, I was determined to see Algerian group <b>Imarhan </b>at the beach so got there in time to get to the front of the VIP area. I had no idea what to expect, except that the beach venue often has young, exciting groups performing there but as soon and they started, I knew I was watching something rather wonderful. Not Gnawa but World Music. My Facebook post later that evening started with the words: "Wow, wow and wow again."<br />
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They reminded me of the French group<b> Thalweg</b>, who played at Bab Marrakesh way back when it was one of the venues and, in my opinion, the best, and who ignited my love of World Music. However, Imarhan are an incredible group in their own right and I danced almost non-stop as I recorded and took videos. The percussionist all in desert white drove the music along and again, here's a little taster:-<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLMvTuwywT1mruZn2wJN1p2WjM3HdVmVEbKTQDgKba0xz8tNldki8P5-GXgparLuCtTZjNo1zolxbS9vqanu8HCFPCBJwIN8qq2u_jo65N51Xnuzw_jth5ZbFHp25BbxKaYjL648Ugxl8/s1600/IMG_1312.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLMvTuwywT1mruZn2wJN1p2WjM3HdVmVEbKTQDgKba0xz8tNldki8P5-GXgparLuCtTZjNo1zolxbS9vqanu8HCFPCBJwIN8qq2u_jo65N51Xnuzw_jth5ZbFHp25BbxKaYjL648Ugxl8/s640/IMG_1312.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioo4ySJspQ2lkv2Xh_0Ry9Mr5Wcq4wfulXxGurMDRzj79c1AfyGk0qIbnu58Jzx0gMhnDPl8720MICB5FJnrHIKoqKsYxyPTg7ov_PLKrVAk4NWJNbo45-mVbV5Y908XKIudNwm-DIeSs/s1600/IMG_1292.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioo4ySJspQ2lkv2Xh_0Ry9Mr5Wcq4wfulXxGurMDRzj79c1AfyGk0qIbnu58Jzx0gMhnDPl8720MICB5FJnrHIKoqKsYxyPTg7ov_PLKrVAk4NWJNbo45-mVbV5Y908XKIudNwm-DIeSs/s640/IMG_1292.JPG" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd12HKyfsVQo2Q10xYU6trdPea0vornMEAqc31DtGVO1lUXL_miqhrBiLw1lWeXFHsX7TiSJ7J6odGxU4FhD8a7siMTNmFU0rkZszDdyUzzn7kFlkv5vkhW44Vfjmk9Pn-uHbERZVO-1I/s1600/IMG_1299+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd12HKyfsVQo2Q10xYU6trdPea0vornMEAqc31DtGVO1lUXL_miqhrBiLw1lWeXFHsX7TiSJ7J6odGxU4FhD8a7siMTNmFU0rkZszDdyUzzn7kFlkv5vkhW44Vfjmk9Pn-uHbERZVO-1I/s640/IMG_1299+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<b><i>Imarhan playing at the beach venue</i></b></div>
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***</div>
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It was returning to Moulay Hassan to watch the fusion between Maalem Said Oughessal and Holland, Hussein and Potter that I found the VIP area so very, very packed. It was such an unpleasant experience - one woman almost spat in my face - that I vowed that I wouldn't do that again. Here is the solitary photograph that I took of the jazz trio (the concerts were over-running big time) before I turned tail and struggled my way out.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbyc8mGGSx354tQyNnayZKVwKW_amfiDrpxCy0mkGkVjodDn-mBWma2JmEGctoPorFWW2EqxkIUJPWScKDbjQY0BRNOVSPjkOej6q1ZRcpyvI6ZDSAmkscw7yeclGm4jm0noch7_ta3b8/s1600/IMG_1325+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbyc8mGGSx354tQyNnayZKVwKW_amfiDrpxCy0mkGkVjodDn-mBWma2JmEGctoPorFWW2EqxkIUJPWScKDbjQY0BRNOVSPjkOej6q1ZRcpyvI6ZDSAmkscw7yeclGm4jm0noch7_ta3b8/s640/IMG_1325+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<i><b>Holland/Hussain/Potter Trio</b></i></div>
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I collapsed into the arms of a friend who was right at the back and after eating half of his chick peas, I returned back to my hotel so shaken up was I. However, the evening was not totally lost because we chatted with two fellow Gnawa fans: <b>Cherbatli Yassine</b>, who paints Gnawa pictures, which are really very good. He's based at the moment in beautiful 'Blue City' of Chefchaouen high up in the Rif Mountains; and<b> Ricci Inagaki</b>, who is Japanese. Apparently, Gnawa is becoming popular in Japan and these two are writing a book about Gnawa, which should be very interesting, particularly if it includes some of Yassine's work.<br />
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<b>***</b></div>
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Saturday night and a performance at the Borj to watch <b>Maalem Mohktar Gania and Africa Gnawa</b> <b>Experience</b>. I have a particular interest in this group because I was privileged to interview them at <b>Yacine Ben Ali's</b> recording studio<b> Planet Essaouira </b>at Xmas and I wrote a post about them on my blog. They were preparing an entirely original piece of music and had already been working on it for months. And just before the festival started, during Ramadan, John, myself and our dog, Betsey, saw them rehearsing at Dar Souira. So, I knew how hard they had been working and I knew how good the music was.<br />
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The setting of the Borj was perfect. It's a much smaller and therefore more intimate venue, set in a turret within the city walls, with the audience sitting on cushions. Very comfortable, thank you very much. It was one of those calm, barmy evenings with a bright blue sky transforming into a midnight blue night, colours which complemented the luxurious colours of the costumes, Mohktar looking particularly handsome in his, like a Regal King. There was an important addition to the group who I hadn't seen before - the renowned jazz saxophonist and improviser/composer <b>Geraldine Laurent.</b><br />
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Those of us who want Gnawa to take a more prominent role in World Music, are very excited about this music because it crosses so many musical genres and is beautifully sublime. It didn't take long for people to move to the sides and the back of the turret so that they could dance...it's just that kind of music. A European woman actually danced in the aisle for a while and she did the Gnawi dance in a most impressive way.<br />
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This music will hopefully be recorded with the addition of French/ Moroccan vocalist <b>Hindi Zahra</b>, who has a large following in both France and Morocco and has an incredible voice that can make the chandeliers shake or be as soft as a gently flowing stream. So watch out for the recording when it becomes available. For now, here's a little taster:-<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3oYq4G2VPi9DTkjLm5BiC8544-tooQBR1V-17uppeQBQvmOPfHgYYu_ppWn6n5B1M7m1nSyowtZVrU-NtxszRvE8enN1KIs0XAYtWFcQv6XxeHNGZxtlZnnLC3MsyuhIOo2o4xzswhYw/s1600/IMG_1354.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3oYq4G2VPi9DTkjLm5BiC8544-tooQBR1V-17uppeQBQvmOPfHgYYu_ppWn6n5B1M7m1nSyowtZVrU-NtxszRvE8enN1KIs0XAYtWFcQv6XxeHNGZxtlZnnLC3MsyuhIOo2o4xzswhYw/s640/IMG_1354.JPG" width="480" /> </a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMzDiXfYuBqWXE7fFEdMzvXSZsblxesHwp2WJ04pB5fE8CBK2WW0V3ZWErJqes42A507kJBOPGhx6oq8SPfbJYadW2eE2Npoh4p-Z6FI1x5HUiViwYG9l_SXxP53kdoNGWBFtBVGBS8yM/s1600/IMG_1355.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMzDiXfYuBqWXE7fFEdMzvXSZsblxesHwp2WJ04pB5fE8CBK2WW0V3ZWErJqes42A507kJBOPGhx6oq8SPfbJYadW2eE2Npoh4p-Z6FI1x5HUiViwYG9l_SXxP53kdoNGWBFtBVGBS8yM/s640/IMG_1355.JPG" width="480" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFihoZKFL3aHtZ5DWlTWs2JHTBdw-1AA8tXKD4OpkzXWqEmu22KKkMKLidAltfnP_0XqAVQGwdfksbhoHhJimFMpMuM98noG6mWkxId6cM5_Km8ueHcK378IEferOLmaYccIvgGp8EMxI/s1600/IMG_1364.JPG" imageanchor="1"> <img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFihoZKFL3aHtZ5DWlTWs2JHTBdw-1AA8tXKD4OpkzXWqEmu22KKkMKLidAltfnP_0XqAVQGwdfksbhoHhJimFMpMuM98noG6mWkxId6cM5_Km8ueHcK378IEferOLmaYccIvgGp8EMxI/s640/IMG_1364.JPG" width="480" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZwvLVo74WdGOHJCGg8KtVa_dj-kH5ftn5fQVI3ppAnRzSMCFwWP6mauG8Wa_mZh1CB3aGkwE2nhZysrwcRR4dvRwfIz2mDBsa2iNRfFxlLSIQnaKflgTolfEqp-QuPkNWm1UD_HfD1HQ/s1600/IMG_1367.JPG" imageanchor="1"> <img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZwvLVo74WdGOHJCGg8KtVa_dj-kH5ftn5fQVI3ppAnRzSMCFwWP6mauG8Wa_mZh1CB3aGkwE2nhZysrwcRR4dvRwfIz2mDBsa2iNRfFxlLSIQnaKflgTolfEqp-QuPkNWm1UD_HfD1HQ/s640/IMG_1367.JPG" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW5DCxEN4V3KLG09vgUVJeVFP_NL4nmCe94zO08_rhdfkZx_Ryd6hwybT1iOL2p70hKRGcfppXBvw-jFoLT9DP49TJm_uWPMtmEbzg5OqYP6Bhi6kpsUbuf6fcIfMHB7r7WKc3el9beTk/s1600/IMG_1357.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW5DCxEN4V3KLG09vgUVJeVFP_NL4nmCe94zO08_rhdfkZx_Ryd6hwybT1iOL2p70hKRGcfppXBvw-jFoLT9DP49TJm_uWPMtmEbzg5OqYP6Bhi6kpsUbuf6fcIfMHB7r7WKc3el9beTk/s640/IMG_1357.JPG" width="480" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0XZbbQXzYZ88EdPbR7FPA4jFgnPCZJmLOJxRWHHYHzquPANhKc88W8eMebVwWsNxzbXM4X_WikdaaAQhedAUFyru-2VpQVu-wFmvqZr_vRH-xW8qzCul0VrB5HXELY-gocYYyzZM1MFQ/s1600/IMG_1340.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0XZbbQXzYZ88EdPbR7FPA4jFgnPCZJmLOJxRWHHYHzquPANhKc88W8eMebVwWsNxzbXM4X_WikdaaAQhedAUFyru-2VpQVu-wFmvqZr_vRH-xW8qzCul0VrB5HXELY-gocYYyzZM1MFQ/s640/IMG_1340.JPG" width="480" /> </a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXWACqIna8XWqd4ubddVsv16r4w21Bpk8EnW7RU7dOoyYN5WTHoXADdEP9UI0mY3fbvimRgiCYELPLrRsVmZfqL9khBAWU1AMpynGz-amXaEk29KbOV5lrqGotvGQ7mfBbUAZypFXBw6s/s1600/IMG_1345.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXWACqIna8XWqd4ubddVsv16r4w21Bpk8EnW7RU7dOoyYN5WTHoXADdEP9UI0mY3fbvimRgiCYELPLrRsVmZfqL9khBAWU1AMpynGz-amXaEk29KbOV5lrqGotvGQ7mfBbUAZypFXBw6s/s640/IMG_1345.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<b><i>Maalem Mohktar Gania and Africa Gnawa Experience</i></b></div>
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We were watching this performance with<b> Raxa Mehta </b>who has set up a company called<b> The London Jukebox</b> which books exciting World Music musicians to play in the UK, Maalem Hamid El Kasri being just one. She was very impressed with Mokhtar and Africa Gnawa Experience so there's another space to watch. (I think that their music would play rather nicely at <b>The Royal Albert Hall</b> (home of <b>The Proms</b>.))<br />
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Afterwards, the three of us - John, Raxa and myself - set off to find a street vendor selling crepes so we could eat as we walked along the to the beach stage but we just happened to pass the famous fish restaurant in Essaouira - <b>Sam's Restaurant</b> - and we were all agreed that they were emotionally spent and decided to have supper there. And what a good decision that was. We certainly needed that break. Listened afterwards to some street music played by the lovely Simon who is doing film studies at <b>The University of Ouarzazate</b>. We became friends with him and his little rascal of a puppy called Puppy at our campsite. (Puppy will most certainly have an important role in my sequel to <b>Walkies</b> - my light-hearted novel about a group of friends who just happen to be dogs.)<br />
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However, I was determined to catch the final act at Moulay Hassan:<b> Maalem Hossam Gania </b>with his Gnaoui dancers, led by<b> Miizo Gania </b>(his brother), and <b>Shabaka Hutchings, Nyugen Le, David Aubaile and Omar El Barkaoui</b>. I remember Hossam and Miizo when they were small boys and we were at their home in Essaouira for a Xmas Eve Lila led by their father - the great <b>Maalem Mahmoud Gania</b>, who sadly passed a few years ago. So, how were the boys shaping up? I wondered. And did I dare return into the VIP area after my bad experiences on the Thursday?<br />
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Raza suggested that I stand in the VIP area by the side barrier almost opposite the green room and that is what I did and it worked very well for me. The concerts were again running way overtime so I caught the tale end of Snarky Puppy, playing for the second time, with Maalem Hamid El Kasri, although it wasn't billed on the programme. Hearing them again certainly put me in a good mood, as did not being pushed and insulted. And during the interval I got to chatting with a group of young Moroccans, some of whom I'd met before, and we had a delightful conversation. There were also a few Moroccan mums with their children and we managed to communicate in French. The mood was so very different from the Thursday. The audience was much younger and far friendlier. Perhaps it was because the people around me were Moroccans and not Europeans which had been the case on the Thursday.<br />
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And how did Hossam and Miizo shape up? Well, pretty darn well. In fact, pretty wonderfully. Hossam has the makings of a very good Maalem and I particularly liked the way that he took control of the stage as a good Maalem should. I also liked the way that he held his head back and steady as he played his guembri and sang. Your dad would be proud, I thought. Because of where I was standing, there was some light distortions on my videos but they are still reasonably good. Take a look for yourself.<br />
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<i><b>The traditional opening of a Gnawa concert with Maalem Gania Hossam and his Gnaoui, led by Miizo Gania</b></i></div>
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<i><b>The full fusion group with Maalem Gania Hossam, Shabaka Hutchings, Nguyen Le, David Aubaile and Omar El Barkaoui</b></i></div>
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***</div>
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The set finished at 5a.m. (!!!!!!!!!!!) but I danced along merrily, so pleased that I was there and enjoying every minute. The fact that I could hardly walk for days afterwards seemed a small price to pay.<br />
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So, the festival is now over and I have so many good memories as well as a lot of decent videos and photographs that I'm still posting on <b>Facebook</b>. I shall be downloading my videos onto my <b>You Tube</b> site and I'll also be posting my photographs on <b>Instagram</b> instead of <b>Flickr</b> where I have a lot of photographs from previous festivals if you'd care to take a look. And as for next year, who knows what that will bring. I'll probably faint if we get press passes next year but what I know is that the music will still be fantastic and Insh'allah I will be there to enjoy it.<br />
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<br />Maggie Knutsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09894181254839872491noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692192861754152818.post-36055394364595135632018-07-24T18:38:00.001+01:002018-07-24T18:38:12.183+01:00Maalem Mokhtar Gania and Africa Gnawa Experience<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/hZyUDpxeneU" width="480"></iframe>Maggie Knutsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09894181254839872491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692192861754152818.post-19235983066029024532018-06-17T20:32:00.000+01:002018-06-17T20:32:20.232+01:00Maalem Hamid El Kasri plays Essaouira and London 2018The great master of Gnawa, Hamid El Kasri, will be playing at Nells Jazz and Blues in London on Wednesday 25th July 7.30-11.30 with guest artists rapper and saxophonist Soweto Kinch Official and drummer Omar El Barkaoui and I can guarantee you that this is going to be one heck of a terrific gig.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8fboZeE1ymwDhyphenhyphenR9H4lmNF2TF5bW51SkfzVVNfUztmqf-VCiqIA9ykKcwE8MepOudNl0aPgXTgkUSPp156tAVIwEsADakGPFQ4Udjy_zAuVZwgSieOi_iXd3yvFu8_NjhpIooEBuYcIez/s1600/SCD_NJAB_TLJ_013_GNAWA_NIGHT_FRIENDS_A3_V4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1139" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8fboZeE1ymwDhyphenhyphenR9H4lmNF2TF5bW51SkfzVVNfUztmqf-VCiqIA9ykKcwE8MepOudNl0aPgXTgkUSPp156tAVIwEsADakGPFQ4Udjy_zAuVZwgSieOi_iXd3yvFu8_NjhpIooEBuYcIez/s400/SCD_NJAB_TLJ_013_GNAWA_NIGHT_FRIENDS_A3_V4.jpg" width="282" /></a></div>
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Hamid is one of the most respected Gnawa Maalems in Morocco with his distinctive mellow voice and perfect diction and is a great advocate for Gnawa music, not just in Morocco but also throughout the world. <br />
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Hamid was born in El Kebir in the north of Morocco close to the Spanish enclave of Sebta (Ceuta), which is just a half an hours boat journey to Gibraltar and mainland Spain.<br />
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He was introduced to Gnawa music and the guembri at a very early age by the Sudanese husband of his grandmother. Hamid learnt the art of guembri playing from his grandfather and other great Maalems from the north of Morocco, so much so that it has been said that "he is to the guembri what Jimmy Page is to the guitar."<br />
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<i>Photo taken at a different performance at Moulay Hassan Square</i></div>
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But Hamid is also a master of fusion, blending Gnawa music with other genres and this will be demonstrated at The Essaouira Gnawa and World Music Festival (set outside and mainly free) starting on Thursday 21st June, where he will open the festival with Snarky Puppy, a group of musicians who combine jazz with rock and funk and who have already won three Grammy awards.<br />
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Snarky Puppy is led by Michael League (bassist, composer and producer) and pianist Bill Lawrence, who played at the festival last year with Khalid Sansi and this is going to be an intriguing combination of sounds and something I'm very much looking forward to.<br />
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The Essaouira Gnawa and World Music Festival, now in its 21st year, is the showcase of Gnawa, Gnawa Fusion and World Music and it would be inconceivable that Maalem Hamid El Kasri would not be one of the star turns.<br />
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One of my favourite memories of the festival, which I have attended since 2001, was a Hamid El Kasri performance in 2008. It was the Saturday night at Bab Marrakesh Square just outside the city walls. Hamid was the third act on just before Ky-Marni Marley (son of Bob Marley). It was a beautiful night with a clear dark blue sky and just a hint of a breeze. I was watching from my hotel balcony which faced the square so I had a panoramic view of everything.<br />
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Bab Marrakesh Square was packed - I've never seen such a large audience at the festival and they had come to see Maalem Hamid El Kasri. In fact, the audience spread beyond the square and towards the sea and up the avenues leading to the square. And then Hamid started to sing and his voice rang out clearly to all of Essaouira and out across the sea. And it was electrifying. He had the audience with him right from the beginning because Maalem Hamid El Kasri really knows how to play a crowd. He let them sing the refrains and they sang with him too. They danced, they clapped, they cheered and I did too on the balcony. When he had finished, I ran down several flights of stairs to celebrate with others but I couldn't get out of the hotel because the street was jam packed. You don't forget that kind of experience in a hurry and in my case never.<br />
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<i>Video of the crowd during Hamid's 2008 performance taken from my hotel balcony</i></div>
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So, when Hamid plays at the Essaouira Festival I shall be right there and when he plays in London I shall be there also and if you can get yourselves some tickets then you'll have an experience you'll never forget.<br />
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*Nells Jazz and Blues is at 3 North End Crescent, London W14 8TG<br />
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* For those of you who don't know Gnawa music, here is a very basic explanation: Gnawa music was brought by the Gnawa people who travelled to Morocco mainly as slaves from sub-Saharan Africa. A Gnawa group usually consists of a Maalem or Master who plays an instrument called the guembri which has a unique deep sound and he or her also sings songs passed down through the ages. With him are his Gnawi dancers who also sing and play kraqebs which are something like castanets. They wear very colourful costumes so it's a very visual performance<br />
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* Essaouira is a beautiful white and blue old Portuguese fort city on the Atlantic coast between Casablanca in the north and Agadir in the south and popular with Hollywood directors<br />
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* Video courtesy of DaftNotStupid<br />
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* Maggie Knutson is an author, blogger and Gnawa and World Music fan<br />
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<br />Maggie Knutsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09894181254839872491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692192861754152818.post-8003342404248007152018-01-22T18:27:00.001+00:002018-04-28T18:49:23.822+01:00Majid Bekkas Maroc Jazz Trio with guest Goran Kafjes - Essaouira - Xmas 2017<br />
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This performance was at the same venue as <b>Othman El Kheloufi</b>, the magnificent <b>Dar Souira,</b> but was a very different music style of music, wonderful to watch and wonderful to listen to. For a moment I thought that I was back at <b>The Essaouira Gnaoua and World Music Festival</b>, that deep guembri call to attention, shaking through your body.<br />
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<b>Majid Bekkas</b> is a <b>Gnaoua</b> and<b> jazz musician</b> of great acclaim and like Othman he has an interesting background and wealth of experience. As well as being a musician, playing the <b>guembri, banjo, oud </b>and<b> keyboard</b>, he is a <b>singer, composer</b> and <b>former classical guitar teacher</b>. Also, Majid has been<b> Co-Artistic Director</b> of <b>Chellah Jazz Festival</b> in Rabat since 1996 as well as being involved in many international jazz projects and festivals. Plus, he gained a <b>Bachelor Degree in Information Science</b> in 1981, has been part of the <b>civil service</b> for a while and has held several positions in <b>The Ministry of Culture</b>. As I said, he's a very experienced man. Plus, he has many albums to his name. (A recent video I posted of <b>John Knutson</b> at <b>Bob Music</b> in Essaouira had one of Majid's albums playing in the background.)<br />
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Majid's style of playing reflects his love of fusing traditional <b>Gnaoua</b> music with <b>Afro-American Blues </b>and that's an exciting mix<b>,</b> and his fellow musicians complemented that sound.<br />
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<b>GUEST ARTIST: GORAN KAFJES</b></div>
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Goran is a <b>Swedish trumpeter</b>, <b>composer</b> and <b>producer</b> who enjoys mixing <b>Afrobeat, Ethio-jazz</b> and <b>Big Band Funk</b>. The winner of the <b>Nordic Music Prize</b> and many <b>Swedish Grammis Awards, </b>he leads the group <b>Subtropic Arkestra</b> and is part of many other bands. He also runs his own record label:<b> Headspin Recordings.</b> That such a busy musician took the time out of his holidays to travel all the way to Essaouira to play with Majid is a testament to not only the pulling power of Majid Bekkas but also to the reputation of Essaouira as an International Centre of outstanding music.<br />
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<b>OTHER BAND MEMBERS WERE:</b></div>
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<b>Mohamed El Babarti</b></div>
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<b>Mohamed Boufassi</b></div>
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We, the audience, were captivated by the beauty of the music and a standing ovation led to an encore. Pretty darn good if you ask me.<br />
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You can watch the entire Majid Bekkas concert on this <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y5c1UEavhsI&list=PLpEpa0QU8exl2A1hXWD5F0zNbkaTT5FEe&index=1">video playlist</a>, recorded by DaftNotStupid.com. Here's the first number:<br />
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<br />Maggie Knutsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09894181254839872491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692192861754152818.post-57789695929613882792018-01-21T12:31:00.002+00:002018-01-21T12:38:54.891+00:00Othman El Kheloufi at Jazz Sous L'Arganier - Essaouira - Xmas 2017<br />
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Picture the scene - we, the audience - sitting on very comfortable chairs (always a plus as far as I'm concerned) in the beautifully restored riad called <b>Dar Souira,</b> when <b>Othman El Kheloufi </b>appears on the stage with his group of musicians and the energy and enthusiasm he generates is palpable. And then they start playing jazz but not as you know it. (The short video above was actually one of the more subdued pieces.) Everyone is jiggling to the music and I'm sure we would have danced if there had been enough room.<br />
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Othman is a fascinating musician unlike any I've come across before and his decision to focus on jazz, with the saxaphone as his main instrument, is not the usual path for a Moroccan musician. But he is not just a muscian - he is the teller of stories.<br />
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Othman did not originally want to be a musician and his CV is as eclectic as they come: a lover of football, a maker of furniture, a dancer, an artist, a scenographer, an accountant, a manager. Plus, he is a <b>Professor</b> at <b>The Higher Institute of Drama, Art and Cultural Animation </b>and also at <b>The National School of Architecture.</b><br />
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For him, it just happened that music became such an important part of his life. It all kicked off when he took to the stage with the Lebanese jazzman<b> Ibrahim Maalouf </b>at the <b>Jazzablanca Festival</b> in 2014 and the two of them improvised together. And since then, he has played concerts not just in Morocco but also internationally.<br />
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Although he plays the <b>clarinet</b> and the<b> ghayta</b> ( a sort of oboe played by snake charmers in <b>Jamaa-el-Fna Square</b> in Marrakech), he chose the<b> saxaphone</b> as his main instrument because he felt that it was the instrument which most complemented his voice. That he is self-taught tells you something of his drive and passion, and during performances, he often switches from one instrument to another.<br />
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His songs are inspired by everyday life going back to childhood and reflect emotions, stories and sensations he has experienced and before each number he gives a brief description of his inspiration for that particular song.<br />
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His music, he says in an interview with <b>Bouthaina Azami,</b> is 'halfway between jazz, world music and pure Moroccan and popular tradition. He calls it a <b>'jazzy' </b>approach -<b> 'beldi</b>' jazz where the audience can both dance and go into a trance.<br />
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<b>His fellow musicians were:-</b></div>
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<b>Yassir Zaitat</b></div>
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<b>Philip Holzapfel</b></div>
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<b>Martine Labbe</b></div>
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<b>Oussama Mougar</b></div>
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<b>Oussama Chtouki</b></div>
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<b>Imad Innouri </b></div>
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<b> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi2gLFROnbrlS0DZ9vNlcJ56ggs5STFRHwCJRY2StlZRC48do8H7OmGwhjyFjkot91QzMxPryRbsXfCu_tpH7s8EfY5BBoh0a94omtuSZMIQg6u9YcLH-UW2DVW_aqeVkoGNOjrBaGVMM/s1600/IMG_1625.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi2gLFROnbrlS0DZ9vNlcJ56ggs5STFRHwCJRY2StlZRC48do8H7OmGwhjyFjkot91QzMxPryRbsXfCu_tpH7s8EfY5BBoh0a94omtuSZMIQg6u9YcLH-UW2DVW_aqeVkoGNOjrBaGVMM/s320/IMG_1625.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy0z6qot_i0gaBTLzgwLveohp9TR5iwPsh2IiCSnqEpb55blQ18oQRGI_TWPsrBov1A9Aa3i1yjTXDI5WqcyyoUTaEeYqg1ZeOYfhFKGAmoZepnjlriuneG3MewCErj0sQclmRZspGSus/s1600/IMG_1651.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy0z6qot_i0gaBTLzgwLveohp9TR5iwPsh2IiCSnqEpb55blQ18oQRGI_TWPsrBov1A9Aa3i1yjTXDI5WqcyyoUTaEeYqg1ZeOYfhFKGAmoZepnjlriuneG3MewCErj0sQclmRZspGSus/s320/IMG_1651.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggvMpl0cX7iF_OgH-gbS6azuaUl6cgLSef4PDNQ-EuCC2f-bkZGUTDveYN60q9XSCRwfROruAgm1QWWBC3htnNTsY_XTOp0PxnSDrScXJZhF9iz-clDI1ynjU-U_C7P1iyiwlJ6zX7HNg/s1600/IMG_1635.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggvMpl0cX7iF_OgH-gbS6azuaUl6cgLSef4PDNQ-EuCC2f-bkZGUTDveYN60q9XSCRwfROruAgm1QWWBC3htnNTsY_XTOp0PxnSDrScXJZhF9iz-clDI1ynjU-U_C7P1iyiwlJ6zX7HNg/s320/IMG_1635.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsU6yUPg4bEBCVKVLZBQ9zF14bM157mymh7-DXJ-grQTYLQoq5koHhgGZxLSO6Q6m3A3tTRwoGlEVLOmJhE3kTD2-DvlWzpPreVfGDO__i0U2x-0kWwRNwWOyuSxszYZ-LTzHsvJC_DTs/s1600/IMG_1641.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsU6yUPg4bEBCVKVLZBQ9zF14bM157mymh7-DXJ-grQTYLQoq5koHhgGZxLSO6Q6m3A3tTRwoGlEVLOmJhE3kTD2-DvlWzpPreVfGDO__i0U2x-0kWwRNwWOyuSxszYZ-LTzHsvJC_DTs/s320/IMG_1641.JPG" width="320" /></a></b></div>
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<b>All in all it was a very exciting performance.</b></div>
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You can watch and listen to the performance on this <a href="https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLpEpa0QU8exlwpep5KZqTHZrW0XEz76uT"><b>playlist</b></a>, recorded by DaftNotStupid.com, and here's the opening number:<br />
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<br />Maggie Knutsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09894181254839872491noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692192861754152818.post-68554959600745581002018-01-16T12:38:00.001+00:002018-01-20T13:29:39.472+00:00Yacine Ben Ali, Pascal Amel and "PLANET ESSAOUIRA"Listen up, folks...you'll hear it first here. <b>Yacine Ben Ali</b>,<b> Pascal Amel</b> and <b>Maalem Mokhtar Gania </b>plus a group of very talented musicians are recording an album of amazing <b>Gnawa Fusion </b>music in Yacine and Pascal's <b>Planet</b> <b>Essaouira </b>state-of-the-art music studio (Essaouira, Morocco) and when the album is released later this year, it'll blow your socks off.<br />
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Gnawa music was brought to Morocco by the Gnawa people of Sub-Saharan Africa. It's very exciting music with a lead gumbri musician (very often a master or Maalem) with his (or her) Gnawi singers and dancers, all of whom wear spectacular costumes and can perform dances and incredible leaps which take your breath away.<br />
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The traditional form of Gnawa - called lilas - are in small gatherings and are quite spiritual, trance- like occasions and are said to be very healing. Then there is the performance Gnawa, playing to a much bigger audience, and lots of fun to listen to and dance to. And then there is Gnawa fusion, where Gnawa music is fused/mixed with other musical genres such as jazz, reggae, hip-hop, heavy metal, pop, Sufi....in fact, just about every form of music. In fact, because this works so well, it's probably true to say that Gnawa is one of the most versatile music genres in the world.<br />
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Although Gnawa groups and artists perform throughout the world, the real showcase for all three forms of Gnawa (also spelt Gnaoua) is <b>The Essaouira Gnaoua and World Music Festival </b>which takes place every year (usually in June). It lasts for four days and is, on the whole, free. It's an incredible festival and world-class musicians come from all over the world to perform with Gnawa groups.<br />
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Now Yacine Ben Ali and Pascal Amel want to bring Gnawa Fusion music to a wider audience with the album Yacine is recording. <b>John Knutson</b> and I were very privileged to be invited by Yacine to the studio, tucked away in the old city, over the Xmas period to meet the musicians and listen to some of the music. Even at this stage, when more processing is needed, it sounds very new and very exciting. Of course, at this stage, we didn't record any of the music but I can give you a brief synopsis of the musicians involved.<br />
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<b>Yacine Ben Ali</b> is the <b>President </b>of the studio. He's the producer of the album, composer and musician. He is also very involved with music festivals in Essaouira, including the Jazz Festival this Xmas. This album has been eighteen months in the planning and now three months into recording.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsXsa844cj9GIHtKOOrquKtFNGX5j2C6svB8XpLes3l4byyoST4C-q61A9ZWTzu0mkPmeH-78Ihs8ZI3CSyB923svsjCULml6ZIPffWX6QZg3sBhOlxrzYWSY6dFb3WqO5WMwByIkidU8/s1600/PC240590+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsXsa844cj9GIHtKOOrquKtFNGX5j2C6svB8XpLes3l4byyoST4C-q61A9ZWTzu0mkPmeH-78Ihs8ZI3CSyB923svsjCULml6ZIPffWX6QZg3sBhOlxrzYWSY6dFb3WqO5WMwByIkidU8/s640/PC240590+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<br />
The main Gnawa influence, around which the music is based, is <b>Maalem Mokhtar Gania</b>, one of the most respected Gnawa musicians not just in Morocco but beyond. For example, he has recorded music in Copenhagen with <b>Torben Holleufer,</b> the Danish journalist, reviewer and musician, who also managed Mokhtar for a number of years.<br />
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Mokhtar comes from a most distinguished Gnawa family, who originally travelled to Morocco from Mali. His father was the legendary <b>El Maalem - Maalem Boubker </b>- and all three sons became masters (Maalems) of Gnawa music. Sadly, Mokhtar is the only remaining son, but his brothers - <b>Maalem Mahmoud Gania </b>and<b> Maalem Abdelah Gania</b> - were all renowned in their own rights.<br />
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Mokhtar has an amazing voice and can sing soft and sweet or so deeply that you can feel your body vibrate: a gentle man with the voice of a lion.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhkP1CSe5v3WyPEuC_fVFDQeVoOlEwQruBKpCqke6JbQ-4batRBBNgGFahB0CGA9ShaspPXDs72oTvuMI5N61kEhDcWaYwUC0xOAzLNAUWTUWiTefhGP0gl4lZ7Y4J0BuMODq3modYEGo/s1600/PC240588+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhkP1CSe5v3WyPEuC_fVFDQeVoOlEwQruBKpCqke6JbQ-4batRBBNgGFahB0CGA9ShaspPXDs72oTvuMI5N61kEhDcWaYwUC0xOAzLNAUWTUWiTefhGP0gl4lZ7Y4J0BuMODq3modYEGo/s640/PC240588+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<br />
<b>Youssef Iferd</b>, based in Los Angeles, has been staying in Essaouira for some time to work on the recordings. He is a music producer, a composer and a singer and very much involved with Moroccan radio. He also plays the guitar and guembri. Youssef has spent the last ten years fusing Gnawa with other musical genres and so his expertise is vital to this project.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHVJgRzjnq1TZWlZiKSDjaxqCv2IwM2hQTS57wusqdGcFpfw7cwYKWhP6Le7ENXBPhhTAUeWZPen9yFEYJvoD_OR-V4ayb_lE6Wq8qxNd-tK_TMi3tuUhwJA0j1m41bj-j6v5oB15grl4/s1600/PC240595.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHVJgRzjnq1TZWlZiKSDjaxqCv2IwM2hQTS57wusqdGcFpfw7cwYKWhP6Le7ENXBPhhTAUeWZPen9yFEYJvoD_OR-V4ayb_lE6Wq8qxNd-tK_TMi3tuUhwJA0j1m41bj-j6v5oB15grl4/s640/PC240595.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<b>Elkhabou Che Anoir</b> from France is an arranger, composer and lead guitarist. He also plays the oud and mandolin.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh92r7xQlSDI2DoYK_Wiroq96-3trj2JSzi0ib2GegyXB-pzsQasJR4bPHfRxhHh9RLjMF7edyxB8k1HQtXbpUL307QrAAYWW9wEBbgbQqcWlNCBVyzzGB9hwUxCtyPdjcusKt6i6MysHo/s1600/PC240576.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh92r7xQlSDI2DoYK_Wiroq96-3trj2JSzi0ib2GegyXB-pzsQasJR4bPHfRxhHh9RLjMF7edyxB8k1HQtXbpUL307QrAAYWW9wEBbgbQqcWlNCBVyzzGB9hwUxCtyPdjcusKt6i6MysHo/s640/PC240576.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<br />
<b>Nasr El Jaouhari</b> is a composer and singer and is also involved in music festivals in Essaouira.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGxjevfQqQtQc-2HW1Jf9Foe_WAjl4XzkuwM2CcWwKdyU3c-7bFppUlLOBeJm4TX7AfuB7rx5hWGvjalZz58SOIPErSas8EZ0dWFmWv4aTIn047MAehjJndmURRJMe-IPc11H7QfAZM2k/s1600/PC240581.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGxjevfQqQtQc-2HW1Jf9Foe_WAjl4XzkuwM2CcWwKdyU3c-7bFppUlLOBeJm4TX7AfuB7rx5hWGvjalZz58SOIPErSas8EZ0dWFmWv4aTIn047MAehjJndmURRJMe-IPc11H7QfAZM2k/s640/PC240581.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<b>AND FINALLY</b></div>
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<b>Pascel Amel</b> from France is the <b>Director General</b> of <b>Planet Essaouira</b>. Pascal is a renowned writer, director and art critic: he is editor-in-chief of <b>Art absolutely</b>, which is a contemporary art magazine, and has had stories and poems published as well as several books on art. And - and this is very close to my heart - it was Pascal's idea to have a music festival in Essaouira which led to the very first <b>Essaouira Gnaoua and World Music Festival</b> in 1997, now in its 21st year.<br />
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Pascal's aim for <b>Planet Essaouira</b> is that it provides a safe haven for talented Moroccan musicians, both established and emerging, to create their own music from recording, to production and then broadcasting, all to international standards. So, Yacine's album will be one of many. To have Essaouira at the centre of this fantastic enterprise is thrilling for all of us who love Essaouira.<br />
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<br />
Yacine's group with Mokhtar plan to play at this year's<b> Essaouira Gnawa and World Music Festival</b> in June and John Knutson and I, Insh'allah, will be at there<b> June 21st - 24th</b> and enjoying their performance. It's quite something to look forward to.<br />
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<ol><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiict8o4FNckxgg5xcKsY8tbsOsNy29xzxXQD5a51m7yPZ7ejJvuxDANUHjXMRps1dh0qPPMWH9fiEk-leZ-0TKbXhqr4oGWAQgKWCAKmh2-rnXci4mOL9lw4Gc6isKPOVe-JvFhO3KUMo/s1600/PC240603+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiict8o4FNckxgg5xcKsY8tbsOsNy29xzxXQD5a51m7yPZ7ejJvuxDANUHjXMRps1dh0qPPMWH9fiEk-leZ-0TKbXhqr4oGWAQgKWCAKmh2-rnXci4mOL9lw4Gc6isKPOVe-JvFhO3KUMo/s320/PC240603+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> <b>Yacine Ben Ali </b>and<b> Maggie Knutson. </b></td></tr>
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<br />Maggie Knutsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09894181254839872491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692192861754152818.post-52010754709261899472018-01-05T18:25:00.001+00:002018-01-15T18:34:26.791+00:00Marcus Ruud and Simohamed Hallhoulle - Essaouira - Xmas Eve 2017<br />
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<i>'Silver' and 'Curly' playing Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers' Mary Jane's Last Dance</i></div>
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Imagine the scene - John Knutson and I sitting outside our favourite restaurant in Essaouira - <b>Chez Ben Mostafa </b>- lunch-time on Xmas Eve. Not a harrassed last minute shopper in sight, no rain clouds or drizzle, no snow, no piped Xmas music blasting out of shops. Instead, we are sitting very comfortably watching the world go by, warmed by a gentle sun, greeting friends, talking to strangers and generally chilling out.<br />
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Now, Essaouira is famous for its music. There is the massive <b>Gnawa and World Music Festival</b> every year (now in its 21st year) which I'm crazy about, and even during our short stay, we heard fabulous music in the making at <b>Yacine Ben Ali's PlanetEssaouira </b>studio (more about this in my next post) and there was also a two-day<b> Jazz Festival</b> (and more about this in a further post). And there is also street music, particularly opposite cafes, and there's some pretty horrible stuff - pretend Gnawa that makes you cringe. But some of it is pretty darn good.<br />
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So, back to Chez Mostafa's. Not too far away to the left is the gorgeous sweep of beach heading off towards the desert and to our right is the large <b>Moulay Hassan Square</b>, one of the venues of the Festival, and beyond it the rather splendid but fierce Atlantic. And John and I are in relax mode but I can see two musicians opposite ready to start playing. On the left is a Nordic looking musician with long white hair and an enviable tan. On the right is someone I remember seeing at the Festival last June at Chez Mostafa. I remembered him because he looks like Jimi Hendrix and who doesn't like Jimi Hendrix?<br />
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At first I think they're going to play separately. "This will be fun," I tell myself, "they'll be competing against each other. I wonder who will win." But then it becomes obvious that are playing together and it sounds really good. In fact, it's so good that I take the trouble to get out of my chair and video the number they are playing on my phone.<br />
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<i> 'Silver' and 'Curly' playing John Lennon's Imagine</i><br />
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After they've had a break, they get up and so do I, and to my great pleasure, they start to sing <b>John Lennon's</b> <i>Imagine,</i> one of my favourite songs and probably the most appropriate songs for Xmas. And it's not just them singing, everyone joins in: me, customers at Chez Mostofa's and people passing by, most of whom respect my videoing and pass behind me. And in the 'cool corner' of Chez Mustofa are Yacine Ben Ali of PlanetEssaouira studio and friends and Yacine is very interested in these two.<br />
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What a brilliant way to spend Xmas Eve.<br />
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Talking to them later, I discover that <b>Marcus Ruud </b>is Norwegian but lives in Essaouira and <b>Simohamed Hallhoulle</b> is Moroccan. The two have know each other for a couple of years but have only started to play together recently. I have no idea what the future holds for them but judging from these videos, I think their future will be very bright indeed. <br />
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<br />Maggie Knutsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09894181254839872491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692192861754152818.post-43410129369246586372017-09-29T18:31:00.000+01:002017-09-29T18:31:56.311+01:00NEW BOOK REVIEW - BLACK WATER by LOUISE DOUGHTYI have just finished reading this novel and I have to say that I'm glad that I've finished it. It's not that I didn't enjoy reading it because I did but I didn't feel as engaged with it as I have with other novels.<br />
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I was first introduced to Doughty's writing when I read <i>Apple Tree Yard</i> last year, well before the excellent BBC adaptation, and I really loved this novel. Firstly, because the main theme of a middle-aged woman finding sexual excitement when she least expected it appealed to me and secondly, because I really admired her writing style. Envious in fact.<br />
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But <i>Black Water</i> is a very different kettle of fish. For a start, I didn't like the beginning which made it clear that something really nasty was going to happen to the main character, John Harper, and personally I don't think it's a good idea to give away the ending at the beginning. I could see Doughty's reasoning as she weaves a story - zig-zagging from different times and different countries - leading to the ending. Clever writing, yes, but perhaps too clever by half.<br />
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So, the central character, John Harper, which is not his real name, has had a difficult childhood with a dead father and erratic, alcoholic mother, who drags him from Holland to America where she marries into a lovely African-American family only to drag him back again to Holland after an awful tragedy.<br />
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Because he is of mixed race, he is of use as some sort of secret agent in Indonesia but he feels a misfit, belonging no-where. His job is to secretly pass on lists of potential communist members and sympathisers to the authorities in Indonesia. It's dangerous work and at times he has to be ruthless to save himself.<br />
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As a balance to this unsavoury work, he has a brief affair with Rita, a teacher, whilst he is hiding out in a shack just outside a town in Indonesia. Rita is everything his wife isn't and for a time we hope that his dream of a simple life with her (buy a small piece of land, build a house and just enjoy being together) will come true but given the beginning, it looks like an impossible dream, thus denying us any sense that at long last he will have a happy life.<br />
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I really liked the portrayal of Rita. She's a well-built lady with loads of confidence and understanding. Non-demanding and fun to be with. I could have done with more Rita in the novel. But as for Harper, I couldn't really connect with him. Not my kind of guy and with few redeeming features. And yes, the dreadful thing did happen so no surprise there.<br />
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I shall certainly read more of Doughty's novels because she is a splendid writer but for me <i>Black Water </i>didn't really work. Shows just how important character and structure are.<br />
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<br />Maggie Knutsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09894181254839872491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692192861754152818.post-63738852769080489362017-09-05T18:33:00.001+01:002017-09-06T18:47:58.989+01:00Dog In The Pram<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Dog In The Pram</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">by</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Maggie Knutson</span></b></div>
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Maggie Knutson <span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">©</span>2011<br />
Maggie Knutson has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work.<br />
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This is one of my short stories inspired by Archie, our previous dog, who had a very penetrating but endearing stare. It was a runner up in the Exeter Writers Short Story Competion a few years ago.<br />
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The dog would simply not budge. I hissed as loudly as I dared: “Scram … Scat … Scoot … Push Off … Get Lost” but he just stood defiantly in my Grass Enhancement Area and fixed me with his gaze. I took my shoe off and hurled it towards the creature. It struck him on the chest and pain flickered across his eyes but still he would not move. I am not given to anxiety but I could feel panic spreading through me like an injected drug.<br />
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“Go away,” I breathed. “<i>Please go away</i>.” I sank onto my allocated Square Block of Patio and switched off my mind for a moment to gain some composure. <br />
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The dog sank down, too, his back legs sprawling outwards like plump, furry chicken legs and his front paws crossed comfortably, as if he had settled down to watch The Screen or was waiting for supper. But one thing was for sure: he was in no hurry to leave.<br />
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In The New World, governed by the only political party left - the B.C. Party (originally the Politically Correct Party, then the Be Correct Party and now just the B.C. Party) - there were three categories of dogs: Working Dogs To Help The Human Race, Laboratory Dogs To Advance Science, and Pet Dogs To Reward Key Workers. <br />
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All dogs were chip coded, collared according to type, and monitored regularly by special vets, who had the authorisation to exterminate any dog that showed signs of sickness. All dogs had their teeth and voice boxes removed on birth to eliminate barking and biting, and breeding was strictly supervised. Added to this, no dog was allowed to wander freely and, appertaining to my own immediate dilemma, was to be reported instantly to The Peaceful Life Police. Every moment I delayed, placed me in greater danger.<br />
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It, the dog, was locking our eyes together with his penetrating stare and I was not so much hypnotised as mesmerised. I had long learnt not to engage in meaningful or prolonged eye contact. If one wished to progress at work or survive amongst neighbours, it was essential to adopt the Submissive Eye Technique. But, to my surprise, I felt pleasantly exhilarated by this unexpected canine encounter. <br />
It was a contact, a communication with another living being and it was stirring something within me, a hazy memory flittering shadow-like across my mind, of pleasurable times when all creatures, human and non-human, were free to interact. And, shockingly, I knew that by allowing these memories to surface, like a nuclear submarine flouting the rules and taking a little peek at life above the sea level, I was entering extremely dangerous waters. <br />
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I sighed. <i>You could get me into a lot of trouble, dog</i>, I thought, as I looked into his deep brown eyes.<br />
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<i>I know</i>.<br />
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I went as rigid as a corpse.<br />
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<i>Can you read my thoughts</i>? A silly question to be sure because he had just done so but it went against everything I had previously known or experienced or even read about.<br />
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<i>Yes</i>. This single thought-word scared but thrilled me. <br />
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<i>But it’s not possible. You’re just a dog.</i> Still disbelief.<br />
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<i>Excuse me! I’m not just any dog!</i> <br />
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A thinking dog with attitude – just what I needed!<br />
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<i>Obviously!</i> I replied.<br />
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This was becoming surreal. I drew within myself and considered the implications. Perhaps my imagination was playing silly tricks on me. But…I was also intrigued. If this was a laboratory dog, and its thin grey steel collar indicated as such, then who knows what kind of experiments he had undergone. <br />
It always chilled me to see the latest advances in science as shown on The Screen. Only last week, we had been told of a breakthrough in the use of DNA from horses to help fybromyalgia sufferers. Although these advances were to be welcomed on a personal level, it often worried me that we had crossed some kind of unnatural boundary. <br />
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The mixing of human and animal genes was, I believed, experimenting dangerously with the unknown. I might have called it playing God but religion had been outlawed and it was unsafe to express such views. Still, despite my distaste for such experimentation, I had to deal with the fact that I had a feisty dog-like-no-other lounging on my lawn.<br />
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He was a beautiful, too, with soft, short fur, which was predominantly white but interspersed with a splattering of fudge-coloured splodges over his eyes, ears and back, like a child’s inexperienced painting. He was compactly built and certainly some kind of hybrid. In this state of ultra concentration, I could see his nose twitching rabbit-like and one ear stood erect, as if it were an antennae.<br />
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His face was amazingly structured, a canine version of a piece of delicate art worked with bones and veins. His small chest was strong and muscular, and fanning out from the base of his spine was a long, pure white, furred tail that I was sure would feel soft, if I did but dare touch it. And here was another memory, even more clearly formed than the last, of the deliciously sensuous touch of rich velvet, rose petals, fine silk, and yes, the naked body of another human.<br />
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But, suddenly, the dog tensed. He sat up, all muscles alert. I strained to hear what he was hearing but in the fading evening light, I could only detect the muffled domestic noises of my fellow neighbours. <br />
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<i>Turn your Screen back on</i> the dog commanded. <br />
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<i>What?</i><br />
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<i>Turn your Screen back on!</i> he repeated, only this time more urgently. <br />
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My first instinct was to object. It was bad enough taking endless orders from my Sponsor, Irma, but to do so from a dog rankled. However, it wouldn’t hurt to put the damn Screen back on. It was mandatory, after all, and switching it off was certainly reckless. <br />
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To me, The Screen was not only intrusive but often obscene. The latest craze for Murder Reality TV disgusted me, and The President’s Daily Address assumed that we were all gullible idiots. Perhaps we were, but surely we didn’t need to be constantly reminded. So, I had spent one rain-swept weekend sitting cross-legged next to the controls and drinking endless cups of Happiness Tea, learning how to adjust both the vision and the sound so I could turn off either one or the other or both. At least my time as a technician with IBM (now both bankrupt and discredited) had been educational.<br />
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<i>What about you? </i>I asked the dog.<br />
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<i>I shall stay here.</i><br />
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I was sure I would wake up in the morning and realise that this was just one of those strange dreams you get when you drink too much Happiness Tea. Nevertheless, I dutifully trotted into my living area, readjusted The Screen and settled down to watch. <br />
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It was The President: a youthful, well-groomed man who spoke with an air of benign authority although I did sometimes wonder if he were the absolute power he claimed to be. Perhaps the B.C. Committee pulled the strings or even The Faceless Ones who were alluded to in muted tones at work. My speculations were too radical to articulate publicly. And anyway, who would I tell them to? Friendships were frowned upon and so I had no friends.<br />
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“I wish to remind you all,” he was saying, “that your Screen is state property and must not be tampered with. The punishment for doing so will be immediate removal to The Correction Area …” and so on. I had heard enough. Adding two and two together and making five, I deduced that there must be others, too, who broke the rules. My spine tingled with excitement at this idea. I was not alone. <br />
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It was then that I heard the ominous roar of powerful motorbikes. The Peaceful Life Police had arrived and I was in no doubt as to whom they were to visit. Thank God I had readjusted my Screen.<br />
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On gaining total supremacy of the country, The B.C. Party had immediately resolved the on-going problem of too few police and too many prisoners. In a neat and effective move, they had released all prisoners and transformed them into a new, ultra-tough police force, whilst locking up all police officers. <br />
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My visitors were two teenage girls: the most brutal of all the police. They might look like caricatures with their black leathers, chewing gum and layers of spiky mascara but their heavy silver chains clanging by their sides were feared by all citizens. <br />
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These two looked as mean as hell, so I kept my eyes averted. I could smell their disappointment on discovering the loud flickering Screen. They moodily poked their batons to displace the few possessions I had, but they could find no reason to give me a Chastisement and they brushed out as dismissively as they had entered. I listened as their boots echoed menacingly around the deserted streets (we were now past curfew time) and then the shock of engines as they sped away to some other hapless citizen. <br />
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I wondered who could have reported me but that was futile. It could have been any one of my neighbours. Life had become like that. After this unpleasant experience, I was tempted to pop a Diazepam (standard issue for all) but I sought out the dog, instead, inexplicably hoping that he had not been frightened off. <br />
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I couldn’t see him but I could feel him watching me. <br />
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“Thank you,” I whispered, and the shade of darkness altered by the wall as he emerged into moonlight. <br />
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And then, <i>Come on, Dog</i>, I projected. Come inside before any of my nosey neighbours see you.<br />
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<i>You called me Dog. Is that your name for me?</i><br />
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<i>I guess so.</i><br />
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<i>I’ve never been given a name before.</i><br />
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And I swear that Dog swaggered inside. <br />
<br />
I fed him warm cereal mixed with milk and sat on the floor close by, with a cup of tea, watching as he sucked in his supper, his eyes closed and long, ginger lashes resting gently on his cheek-bones. His chest was rising and falling in rhythm with his heartbeat and it occurred to me that this must be how new mothers felt, before their babies were taken away to their Allocated Homes.<br />
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But I checked this impulse of sentimentality and once he had finished his meal, I allowed my rational self to take control.<br />
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<i>I could get into serious trouble doing this.</i><br />
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<i>I know.</i><br />
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<i>So, what do you want from me? </i><br />
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<i>I want you to take me to The Land Of No Return.</i><br />
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I looked at him in horror.<br />
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<i>That’s impossible.</i><br />
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<i>No, it isn’t.</i><br />
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<i>I’ve got too much to lose.</i><br />
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Silence.<br />
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<i>‘I have a good job…this flat...’</i><br />
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More silence.<br />
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<i>I’d be risking everything I’ve achieved and then there really would be no return.</i><br />
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But Dog did not answer. Instead, his eyes became like a pair of secret screens that showed flashes of scenes of unspeakable brutality. I shrank back in shock and my heart, frozen for so long, burned with anger. I was seeing, as if I were there myself, the awful truth about animal experimentation and it was not the painless, cosy scene that we had all seen on The Screen. It was indescribably foul. <br />
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Dog showed little emotion but the earnestness of his expression revealed an anxiety for me to know. Yet, still, I demurred.<br />
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<i>You’re asking a lot of me.</i><br />
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<i>You are my last chance… as I am yours.</i><br />
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I sucked in breath. <br />
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<i>Let me sleep on it.</i><br />
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Sleep was a surprisingly peaceful sensation that night, given all that I had witnessed, for Dog was curled into a tight ball at the foot of my bed, so obviously trusting of me, and the last thing I could remember was hearing the sound of his gentle, controlled breathing, which was strangely comforting.<br />
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I resolved to go into work the next day. I needed to be able to think without Dog’s pleading eyes absorbing my every thought. All was normal until lunchtime, when I was leaving the office for my mandatory Teeth Perfection Treatment, and I felt an unaccustomed movement on my cheek. Instinctively, I checked myself in the mirror, which, in magnified form, covered all walls and ceilings.<br />
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There was a small black insect crawling over my cheekbone and the instant I realised that it was some form of dog parasite, my eyes locked straight into the puzzled stare of Irma. Irma had a Reward Dog: she would know about such things. I flicked the insect away casually and, with disguised haste, set off for my appointment but, once away from the building, I paused against a wall to regain my breath and to curb the surge of undiluted fear that threatened to betray me. <br />
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Irma was a loyal Party member. She would report me for illegal contact with a dog, despite my value as her most senior software creator. I would be arrested on my return, secretly bundled out through the basement and whisked away to a miserable destiny. My flat would be repossessed and Dog returned to the hell that I had seen in his eyes.<br />
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I ignored my appointment and headed straight for home. A Young Mother was carrying her baby inside a nearby flat and her brief, miserable glance my way strengthened my resolve. I must escape.<br />
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Dog was waiting for me, sitting as alert as radar, eyes bright with expectation. <i>Quick! We’re leaving!</i> I swept into the kitchen and pushed provisions into two plastic bags. Then I hurried to my secret hiding place and retrieved my most treasured possessions, all banned items. There was a well-thumbed photograph of a vase of sunshine yellow flowers, a mouldy bar of milk chocolate, and a battered old brown leather cigarette case containing a lighter and one cigarette.<br />
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I shoved them hastily into my pocket and opened the front door, Dog at my side. There, in front of us, was the baby’s shining new pram with sufficient room for one dog under my two bags. The problem of how to smuggle Dog out had been my most pressing priority and yet here the answer was provided for us. It was then that I realised that God had not deserted me.<br />
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Dog and I did not need to communicate, our thought patterns now so in tune, even after such a short period of time. He jumped as lightly as a soufflé into the pram, I placed the bags on top of him and thus we set off…<br />
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So, that is how the amazing partnership between Dog and myself came into being. And how did we reach the safety of The Land Of No Return (which is actually called The Land Of Freedom)? Now that’s a fascinating story. Perhaps Dog will tell you that one, when you have managed to escape, too.DaftNotStupidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02243127396108361624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692192861754152818.post-63432162550950931592017-08-03T12:32:00.003+01:002017-08-03T12:32:57.179+01:00Essaouira and World Music Festival - FINAL POST - BOB MUSIC- THE MUSIC SHOP IN ESSAOUIRA WHICH CELEBRATES BOB MARLEY<b>Bob Music</b> is probably the quirkiest and most interesting shop in Essaouira and well worth a visit. Owned and run by <b>Abdul</b> <b>Oubella</b>, it celebrates both <b>Gnaoua music</b> and <b>Bob Marley</b> (hence the name.) Bob Marley, as we all know, was a reggae musician, not a gnaoua musician, but he is<b> VERY</b> popular in Morocco and in a way, Abdul helps keep his name alive by his impressive display of Bob Marley photographs, just as many Moroccans do by sporting incredible dreadlock hairstyles, which are extremely fetching.<br />
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Inside the shop, which is at 3, Rue Youssef Ben Tachfine (close to 104, Avenue Sidi Mohamid Ben Abdallah) there are a wide range of musical instruments ranging from guembris (the Gnaoua equivelent of the guitar) to drums to krakebs to....just about everything.There is also an impressive selection of records plus posters of Bob Marley for sale. Added to this, is Abdul's knowledge of music - he's like a walking, breathing encyclopedia of music. Ask him a question and he'll probably know the answer.<br />
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When<b> Ky-Marney Marley</b> (one of Bob's sons) was in town to play at <b>Bab Marrakesh</b> (an absolute fantastic set I might add), he payed a visit to Bob Music and below is a photo of Abdul with Ky-Marney.<br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><i>Ky-Marney Marley and Bob </i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizFkk4dy64DnoaLDApfNMzeNmecCWIeRz2JtvL2zCnMuk8md-f5XsLFrT5UWyT5U7yXM-HPPu92AG4OiKous-lIFRbuWIFFFrOV8EVjLkKBWSLESIYZJChTzemk2UgxUAaZ-7r485I49g/s1600/IMG_1088+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizFkk4dy64DnoaLDApfNMzeNmecCWIeRz2JtvL2zCnMuk8md-f5XsLFrT5UWyT5U7yXM-HPPu92AG4OiKous-lIFRbuWIFFFrOV8EVjLkKBWSLESIYZJChTzemk2UgxUAaZ-7r485I49g/s640/IMG_1088+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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Abdul was at prayer when I took the following photographs but his assistant, Hamid was there.<br />
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<span style="color: red;"><i>John attempting to play a guembri</i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixtWiJeAP-Tv0eUB6m-NZXihtWzVyagwXLYiOWNqTUlW1wxKlBGsH7X6CjNsEYbe5fJMcXdEOdJQXgUuR4DKVD07MYqEZ5CAQjFTivKEHL_hzlEK-1OBXZWJSTYjnWTwYZiSbHzVG6nMQ/s1600/IMG_1089.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixtWiJeAP-Tv0eUB6m-NZXihtWzVyagwXLYiOWNqTUlW1wxKlBGsH7X6CjNsEYbe5fJMcXdEOdJQXgUuR4DKVD07MYqEZ5CAQjFTivKEHL_hzlEK-1OBXZWJSTYjnWTwYZiSbHzVG6nMQ/s640/IMG_1089.JPG" width="480" /></a><br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><i>Hamid on krabebs, John on the guembri</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: purple;"><i>Bob Music shop</i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgADNKJlpIno3JQBdpBlP2Jps2Y1PVVHdmRaToifRwVUCEngKRWiGUhIJoG_-7MM53m9BvFaHV-yJLM1ARJQWUv5xHzLcLFSK7QNsBxq4LHWHKE8MJ1xwCNEf33CYzjDRaPhgmQOe_W8ko/s1600/IMG_1078.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgADNKJlpIno3JQBdpBlP2Jps2Y1PVVHdmRaToifRwVUCEngKRWiGUhIJoG_-7MM53m9BvFaHV-yJLM1ARJQWUv5xHzLcLFSK7QNsBxq4LHWHKE8MJ1xwCNEf33CYzjDRaPhgmQOe_W8ko/s640/IMG_1078.JPG" width="480" /></a><br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><i>Some of Abdul's photos of Bob Marley</i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh50ms8YrIPODkuIZJH-EvCFLiBFi5TsEAKm-FeLjrVKhx1h187ALgdEb5n0EUzIpdSSUVRWN1dKg4cBP_bCnJ8uwM0AOuY-Sj83S3aZh_qLd24bsm7Xx4-OXimWD1tfFNkunNjFV-fhQg/s1600/IMG_1079.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh50ms8YrIPODkuIZJH-EvCFLiBFi5TsEAKm-FeLjrVKhx1h187ALgdEb5n0EUzIpdSSUVRWN1dKg4cBP_bCnJ8uwM0AOuY-Sj83S3aZh_qLd24bsm7Xx4-OXimWD1tfFNkunNjFV-fhQg/s640/IMG_1079.JPG" width="480" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq2KGsdDlvRZa6AHJObt8FIFp-WfAdeB8e8_5KDgc6v9hO1NcUm11PKSHXfth6L0BbCS3EWXKiYsIPjr8OS8rczU95nfNjksLElhUix8wAP9MDMOnJ1V75dSzvASHPyytRtAeHG_HGJd4/s1600/IMG_1082.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq2KGsdDlvRZa6AHJObt8FIFp-WfAdeB8e8_5KDgc6v9hO1NcUm11PKSHXfth6L0BbCS3EWXKiYsIPjr8OS8rczU95nfNjksLElhUix8wAP9MDMOnJ1V75dSzvASHPyytRtAeHG_HGJd4/s640/IMG_1082.JPG" width="480" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbh_87KvLbbKjlo9TZmgGUDP0ep-BZSnzvAFz8-UGHyKKkU00BMg4mzQmzm3VWmNfunu8zFHi8wabfD_SSzBr-LmDQC56c94TWThOblrpPRayjnANXS-11BHVTcg-ftE2OYj4gvbvmvvc/s1600/IMG_1083.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbh_87KvLbbKjlo9TZmgGUDP0ep-BZSnzvAFz8-UGHyKKkU00BMg4mzQmzm3VWmNfunu8zFHi8wabfD_SSzBr-LmDQC56c94TWThOblrpPRayjnANXS-11BHVTcg-ftE2OYj4gvbvmvvc/s640/IMG_1083.JPG" width="480" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_0my5zpTBhMizJeoWMNBDiLzmOsYQABZbJJ6SPkDC2MivPi1qx0KCKKEwMvIP2V16VZ-EwJi8AZLVU2cN1OOKR2AC0k4FsDOo8y_XSjzGJo4TJaRAqQIhoOnlj2j5Quq0v5Pm0wSvFec/s1600/IMG_1084.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_0my5zpTBhMizJeoWMNBDiLzmOsYQABZbJJ6SPkDC2MivPi1qx0KCKKEwMvIP2V16VZ-EwJi8AZLVU2cN1OOKR2AC0k4FsDOo8y_XSjzGJo4TJaRAqQIhoOnlj2j5Quq0v5Pm0wSvFec/s640/IMG_1084.JPG" width="480" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-9c4LjA9gQ_H4jbpYqHRRixjtlBHY-aq9EkcnFJuhrhKZt4OSrpTghWBYxz0YZvlpXn5eUgl5-ysACsYewplA1W9ACsidoW7pej90BEVD3hmQsVLyYegFdeOnBELLqy7q7EvBfC_2IDM/s1600/IMG_1087.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-9c4LjA9gQ_H4jbpYqHRRixjtlBHY-aq9EkcnFJuhrhKZt4OSrpTghWBYxz0YZvlpXn5eUgl5-ysACsYewplA1W9ACsidoW7pej90BEVD3hmQsVLyYegFdeOnBELLqy7q7EvBfC_2IDM/s640/IMG_1087.JPG" width="480" /> </a><br />
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Quite frankly, I could look at photos of Bob Marley all day and not get bored. I don't think he will ever be forgotten: his legacy most certainly lives on.<br />
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I would be remiss if I didn't mention that Abdul now also has a silver shop at 104, Avenue Sid Mohamed Ben Abdallah, close to Bob Music. This is worth a visit, too, because he has a fantastic range of beautiful jewellery. I bought four pairs of ear-rings and they are very much admired - and reasonably priced, too. And, good quality.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyb7l593Kx-objJWTE-NYh60lHQeEB5uZuwEAO7Q0rsMz08cCH9Wl59dlXTy0iwNX7oFI2NlEA9sjZ0Il4dHPmJL1x1x0ZKDI7wjlTmOjtr5fXCtzHPOtV9N3R7_fgbqRTnJfsJNxBMOk/s1600/IMG_1076.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyb7l593Kx-objJWTE-NYh60lHQeEB5uZuwEAO7Q0rsMz08cCH9Wl59dlXTy0iwNX7oFI2NlEA9sjZ0Il4dHPmJL1x1x0ZKDI7wjlTmOjtr5fXCtzHPOtV9N3R7_fgbqRTnJfsJNxBMOk/s640/IMG_1076.JPG" width="480" /></a><br />
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<span style="color: magenta;"><i>My four ear-rings </i></span><br />
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And Finally - my motto for The Festival is<b> IT'S ALWAYS ABOUT THE MUSIC</b><br />
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<b>Insh'alla, I shall be reporting on The Festival next year</b><br />
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<br />Maggie Knutsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09894181254839872491noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692192861754152818.post-76295733143874386352017-08-01T13:22:00.004+01:002017-08-03T12:21:01.477+01:00The Essaouira Gnaoua and World Music Festival 2017 - PART FOUR - RAY LEMA and MAALEM ABDESLAM ALIKANE (with special thanks to Mohamed Ali El Barnoussi)To start at the end, we, the audience, would not let <b>Maalem Abdeslam Alikane </b>and his eight dancers off the stage. He would finish a number and take a final bow and then we'd plead for another song and so he'd very kindly oblige and then, when that song had finished and he took a final bow, we'd plead for just one more song.....and so on until, was it two in the morning or later?...probably later...and Abdeslam looked in no hurry to vacate that stage. It was a truly great way to finish The Festival.<br />
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So, back to the beginning. In <b>2007</b> John saw<b> Ray Lema (piano/keyboard player from Congo) and Maalem Abdeslam Alikane</b> play the last set at<b> Moulay Haasan Square</b> whilst I was watching<b> Asian Dub Foundation </b>with a <b>Gnaoua group</b> (can't remember the name) from the comfort of our hotel room balcony overlooking<b> Bab Marakech Square. </b>When John returned, I said: "You missed a fabulous set," and he said: "So did you."<br />
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And then he played what he had recorded and it was pretty darn good and is one of our favourite pieces of music to listen to, particularly on holiday.<br />
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Now we jump to<b> 2017</b> and we've arrived early in Eassouira days before The Festival and John blags his way into the <b>Residence </b>where <b>Ray Lema </b>is<b> </b>practising with, yes<b>, <b>Maalem Abdeslam Alikane</b>, </b>in readiness for their set on the <b>Saturday night. </b>And during a break, John chats with Ray Lema<b> </b>about that memorable <b>2007</b> set and told him that he had recorded it and actually had a copy in the hotel room. Would Ray Lema<b> </b>like a copy? (John had brought loads of different recordings to give away to anyone who loves the music.) Of course,<b> </b>Ray Lema would like a copy and so John goes and fetches it and takes it back to the Residence and gives it to<b> </b>Ray Lema's agent. <br />
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So, the next day, I tag along with John to go listen to them practising again.<b> </b>Ray Lema's agent doesn't want John to film the practise but I sneak these two not brilliant photos. But the important thing is that they sound really good and once they've played a section, they go over it again and again to perfect it, which is most impressive. Had I had my wits about me, I would have asked the names of<b> </b>Ray Lema's drummer, guitarist and saxaphonist but I didn't so I can't tell you. (I was rusty about the whole Festival thing because we hadn't been for four years. I managed to get myself into top gear just as The Festival was finishing but I'll certainly hit the ground running next year... with a better camera!)<br />
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<span style="color: #741b47;"><i>Ray Lema, Maalem Abdeslam Alikane and Ray Lema's guitarist</i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjHQ8h1ujtUtXRZjETyePE2EN27ebyuR4ZoG-wSyD8qgWw6CiXFIVf2lvPcQjz-eEdYIr-dJEncNLsnV_laBAJbG-wyOCvQMBqK5M7KL39Zl5uLNtqFJW7yfvjK-0ddPXsxhEm-0iqCVg/s1600/P1010582.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjHQ8h1ujtUtXRZjETyePE2EN27ebyuR4ZoG-wSyD8qgWw6CiXFIVf2lvPcQjz-eEdYIr-dJEncNLsnV_laBAJbG-wyOCvQMBqK5M7KL39Zl5uLNtqFJW7yfvjK-0ddPXsxhEm-0iqCVg/s640/P1010582.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<span style="color: #990000;"><i>Ray Lema's drummer and saxaphonist</i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDpMXr-wBV7443v4xltEYse4RfUk38otf6TWU8adHJ3iKTDNVRiM1jK29xbc1O9EFAdTmfe1AUvh4EMTmRV-78P2mloS8NaAeQ_KDW-OKNdD1IvCuZDSSdYeH0uTzNc9ktDopc3wujVO0/s1600/P1010584.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDpMXr-wBV7443v4xltEYse4RfUk38otf6TWU8adHJ3iKTDNVRiM1jK29xbc1O9EFAdTmfe1AUvh4EMTmRV-78P2mloS8NaAeQ_KDW-OKNdD1IvCuZDSSdYeH0uTzNc9ktDopc3wujVO0/s640/P1010584.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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Now we jump to Saturday 1st July and<b> 'Scene De La Plage</b>' - the venue right next to the beach - and <b>Ray Lema and Maalem Abdeslam Alikane</b> were due to play the very last set, starting at midnight. Thankfully, the weather was quite mild compared with the evening before when it had been so cold and windy we couldn't face walking along the promenade to get to this venue, missing some acts we really would have liked to have seen.<br />
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The last set of The Festival is always a poignant affair because it heralds the end of The Festival and I really felt I hadn't heard enough music; partly because The Festival was only three days this year and not the usual four; and also because there's no such thing as 'catching a quick supper in a restaurant between sets.' What I really wanted was more Gnaoua Music and, thankfully, that's what I got.<br />
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Anyway, the VIP area was not so crowded at the beach venue compared with Moulay Hassan, which was pretty hectic, and I managed to wriggle my way almost to the front. The only thing between me and the barrier were two young Moroccan men. So, I asked if I could stand in front of them to take my photographs and they very kindly agreed.<br />
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Whilst we were waiting for the set to start I got into conversation with one of these charming men and he told me his name was <b>Mohamed Ali El Barnoussi </b>and that he was a great <b>Roger Federer</b> fan - even had a photo of him on his phone. I'm a great Wimbledon fan so we could have chatted for ages, plus we were both fans of the music, but then the set started and we focused on having a great time. So, thank you <b>Mohamed Ali</b> for allowing me to stand in front of you - it was very much appreciated. (We're now <b>Facebook </b>friends and hope to see you at the Festival next year, <b>Mohamed Ali</b>.)<br />
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With two lovely young men behind me, I also had a small child on either side of me who were fascinated by it all and a very pretty young Moroccan woman, totally dressed in white with a white headscarf, who almost knocked me off my feet because when the music started she began to dance in almost wild abandonment, so clearly enjoying herself. So, the only thing to do was to dance myself, obviously being careful not to knock either or both child over. Pretty crazy, is how I'd describe it and lots and lots of fun.<br />
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What Ray Lema brought to the set was his own Afro-jazz fusion with his guitarist, drummer and saxophonist so in a way it was a double fusion and the moving in and out of Gnaoua and jazz and then both together made for an exciting sound, as you can listen to later on. My only critisism is that Ray Lema's group were very much in the background and I would have liked to hear a few solo pieces from them. However, it was still a most enjoyable set.<br />
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<span style="color: magenta;"><i>Some okayish photos but I hope they capture the essence of the set</i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ3m0RbPwvpWMXALU_FOyIhNfbMasJ8ISLt-T1fhwV5CgC_PYmu3fpR7w6RXUAzi27jb82bhUIrt587l8mk7UUsFC_V3D2kepxPFRAEb1rh6mZSmEagkAcNgQFYrycjaGpbwEOS7wjy9s/s1600/IMG_1014+%25283%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ3m0RbPwvpWMXALU_FOyIhNfbMasJ8ISLt-T1fhwV5CgC_PYmu3fpR7w6RXUAzi27jb82bhUIrt587l8mk7UUsFC_V3D2kepxPFRAEb1rh6mZSmEagkAcNgQFYrycjaGpbwEOS7wjy9s/s640/IMG_1014+%25283%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a> <br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><i>Curtain call, or so we all thought</i></span><br />
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But after Ray Lema and his team left the stage, Abdeslam and his dancers remained and that's when we had a real Gnaoua fest. So, it was best of both worlds: we had fusion and Gnaoua. And those dancers should receive medals because they had to keep dancing and dancing and dancing. It was fabulous.<br />
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To see the<b> DaftNotStupid</b> videos of this set <b>click below:</b><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/faLjpeAvZxE?list=PLpEpa0QU8exnFmItC5NyfVChBQoz3c2ZL" width="560"></iframe>
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<b>THE FESTIVAL HAS ENDED - LONG LIVE THE FESTIVAL !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</b><br />
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<b>LAST POST</b> - coming soon - <b>BOB MUSIC - THE MUSIC SHOP IN ESSAOUIRA WHICH CELEBRATES BOB MARLEY</b><br />
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<br />Maggie Knutsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09894181254839872491noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692192861754152818.post-10435542941893996962017-07-26T18:49:00.002+01:002018-10-30T17:26:33.323+00:00The Essaouira Gnaoua and World Music Festival 2017 - PART THREE - TITI ROBIN, MEHDI NASSOULI, SHUHEB HASAN, MURAD ALI KHAN, ZE LUIS NASCIMENTO and HABIB MEFTAHJust occasionally, The Festival throws up a performance that you were totally not expecting - totally, different, totally unique and totally wonderful. I'm thinking, in particular of <b>The Korean Drummers </b> (<a href="https://youtu.be/H9f8SHTm-u0">Samulnori Molgae</a>) and <b>The Ali Brothers - Mehr and Sher</b> (from Pakistan)<b> </b>from way back when<b> Bab Marrakesh</b> was used as a venue. (In my opinion, this was the best venue of The Festival and it was such a pity when they stopped using it. I noted this year that it's been dug up - no doubt for shops or housing - and the place looks all wrong, bringing the new part of Essaouira far too close to the old part. <i>Since writing this, I have discovered that in fact this square is being made into mainly gardens, which I'm very pleased about.</i>)<br />
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I was reminded of both performances when listening to the set I'm about to describe: <b>The Korean Drummers</b> because they displayed an amazing sound and energy just using drums that quite took your breath away; and <b>The Ali Brothers </b>who were so spiritual that it made the hair on your back stand on end.<br />
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The <b>Titi Robin et al</b> set had both these elements and more because it also included a remarkable <b>Gnaoua Group,</b> led<b> </b>by <b>Mehdi Nassouli </b>who brought Gnaoua element into the mix, plus four remarkable musicians:<b> Titi Robin, Shuheb Hasan, Murad Ali Khan and Ze Luis Nascimento</b>.<br />
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Here's a little taster which, by some miracle, I managed to record on my little Lumix camera:<br />
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So, to start at the beginning, this was the first set on The Saturday night, the first of July, at<b> Moulay Hassan Square </b>and I really wasn't expecting to hear such Divine music which just got better and better as the set progressed until I really didn't want it to stop and still can't get out of my mind even several weeks later.<br />
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What follows are brief descriptions plus some okay-ish photos of the performers (going to get a better camera for the next Festival):<br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><i>Medhi Nassouli and Titi Robin </i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2tzcHSxSuHdLNpBzxVIoBRyHbTOce2uTHWCE6mLuXdTJck0n-RCiBzlq32mT16HLzlUuxHTFecKWpSnwyCacGU2of0Lqs9cI4Ecj5gRbvR5xCJmpdnRCWd9OaDu37O-17lXmp0NfsV_I/s1600/P1010686+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2tzcHSxSuHdLNpBzxVIoBRyHbTOce2uTHWCE6mLuXdTJck0n-RCiBzlq32mT16HLzlUuxHTFecKWpSnwyCacGU2of0Lqs9cI4Ecj5gRbvR5xCJmpdnRCWd9OaDu37O-17lXmp0NfsV_I/s640/P1010686+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /> </a><br />
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<b>Titi Robin</b> from France is a composer and improviser, and plays
the guitar, buzuq, mandelin and oud. He has been influenced by a whole
range of music - Mediterranean, Gypsy, Oriental, European and Arab -
plus poetry and paintings, and he's also written the film score for a
number of films, as well as recording a number of albums. So, quite a
talented musician to say the least.<br />
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Even more so since I have just discovered that Titi composed most of the music for the set, chose the musicians personally to perform the piece, weaving in some of the traditional Gnaoua music and allowing individual improvisations and directed it all whilst playing the guitar or a mandolin (with holes in!) That explains why it was such an exceptional, haunting set and now I know it's unique, which pleases me no end.<br />
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<b>Medhi Nassouli</b> is one of the most talented musicians I have ever seen or listened to and having watched numerous videos of him on You Tube in order to research this post I am actually in awe. He is far more than a Gnaoua 'Maalem' and that is no disrespect to Gnaoua 'Maalem's. Officially I couldn't find anywhere in my research that labelled him a Maalem but he certainly acted like one in this set, directing his four dancers with a small nod of the head or a smile.<br />
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I've found descriptions of Medhi as being an artist musician, a singer, a bassist and a frame drummer. But the truth is that his talent can't be fitted neatly into one label. In the many videos I've watched of him, he is often the star of the performance and he's worked with many, many other musicians. I suspect, though, that his collaboration with Titi is the most intense.<br />
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His main instrument as far as I can see is the guembri. For such a seemingly basic instrument it can make an incredibly vibrant, distinctive sound and Medhi appears to adapt it to the genre of music he's playing. I particularly liked the jazz videos and I'm wondering just how far Medhi can go in revolutionising the use of the guembri. Am I being fanciful in thinking that Medhi can do to the guembri what Jimi Hendrix did to the guitar? <br />
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So, Medhi travels the world playing with different musicians and playing different types of music but at The festival he led his Gnaoua group and played the guembri and a frame drum. I've never
seen him perform before because we missed the last four Festivals but I hope to do so many times in the future because he has
such a tender, expressive voice which glides effortlessly through the air, and a beautiful smile, which could melt a
thousand hearts. And sometimes his face is so expressive, it was as
if he was telling us a story that he cared passionately about.<br />
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One thing I haven't mentioned before are the wonderful Gnaoua costumes. I'd love to have a look at some close up to see just how they are decorated and I must admit I was green with envy seeing all the outfits that Medhi has. He has an eye for design and style as well as an ear for music.<br />
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<b>Medhi</b> and <b>Titi</b> have played
together before a number of times and there seems to be a really good
understanding between them, sometimes sparring against each other with
their instruments. There are some delightful videos on You Tube of the
two playing together and they have released a CD called <b>Taziri</b> (which I have ordered from Amazon) which also features <b>Ze Luis Nascimento</b>, who also played in the set.<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><i>Mehdi's Gnaoua Dancers (plus singers plus krakeb players)</i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg53qGXFjz_OpOnY6hXqVfg5u4sqYDQr7VNGZPKKP66no1N67KIcpYS0agJg2jRZTZ-1gsG7kqi97osx9BEHdFF7gGnfsLb9-OeeLYICYrkfKCGm1wNazosEZLgHwrZvngvDQUpRUPx-Ko/s1600/P1010688.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg53qGXFjz_OpOnY6hXqVfg5u4sqYDQr7VNGZPKKP66no1N67KIcpYS0agJg2jRZTZ-1gsG7kqi97osx9BEHdFF7gGnfsLb9-OeeLYICYrkfKCGm1wNazosEZLgHwrZvngvDQUpRUPx-Ko/s640/P1010688.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqPj3FErycwQkIwMeaYtAes5UlfYUmp99bXC1FfU2F4JAjO1a3Ljf8wDvMro0USVN-fKgE3K1Sg7s8mB9yEdAtZtN_taR5iSKOx4oVd6GfwlzI3794noalFFm9IGDHEUFGc6tXrzg9v-Y/s1600/P1010690+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqPj3FErycwQkIwMeaYtAes5UlfYUmp99bXC1FfU2F4JAjO1a3Ljf8wDvMro0USVN-fKgE3K1Sg7s8mB9yEdAtZtN_taR5iSKOx4oVd6GfwlzI3794noalFFm9IGDHEUFGc6tXrzg9v-Y/s640/P1010690+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtP64Opoa74bFISWW8Sync8HzVqDnW2uGvkTcwS11-ijRNMcRJRzQTtk8q9Vk8TnlqAdff2X0_HyuU0LW89Wz4OdvBssQNjobkl5OT4i7ocHqPBbNm5XKXrWl_l_tXWl6T6P6sScZUlvw/s1600/P1010693+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtP64Opoa74bFISWW8Sync8HzVqDnW2uGvkTcwS11-ijRNMcRJRzQTtk8q9Vk8TnlqAdff2X0_HyuU0LW89Wz4OdvBssQNjobkl5OT4i7ocHqPBbNm5XKXrWl_l_tXWl6T6P6sScZUlvw/s640/P1010693+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /> </a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ZIirAtvaSNlOhfbeUoM4fvryAD-CM5B7JF2aNCVdPw5nIoQOENHqQ0pwsiBd3bg_LI2XwnfP3H7-6DhUBFwx00LaqpGjkqlpvTso6-ToRDmAAc_Qx_mBh2eLd46MuCyaCXemuUGJtrM/s1600/P1010701.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ZIirAtvaSNlOhfbeUoM4fvryAD-CM5B7JF2aNCVdPw5nIoQOENHqQ0pwsiBd3bg_LI2XwnfP3H7-6DhUBFwx00LaqpGjkqlpvTso6-ToRDmAAc_Qx_mBh2eLd46MuCyaCXemuUGJtrM/s640/P1010701.JPG" width="640" /></a> <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfS-Kvm_hijml2BNQH6SiOE7MAL60LMsmOC-LjbVZ4NoCsltUW1WRcWAh7E91HjMk7fco3f7H1kNZRFrSYEAG1DULsD3NcqSFkKqhZfYcWZ9QCRQDzcBQw7J7bi6DM1YC5-0Ho1zfoCwA/s1600/P1010701+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfS-Kvm_hijml2BNQH6SiOE7MAL60LMsmOC-LjbVZ4NoCsltUW1WRcWAh7E91HjMk7fco3f7H1kNZRFrSYEAG1DULsD3NcqSFkKqhZfYcWZ9QCRQDzcBQw7J7bi6DM1YC5-0Ho1zfoCwA/s640/P1010701+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNVpE_PnQVCAPzTP5Uc68fk5zYC6G1y4vWmqJdhNFhy_IA9pyh7mHNhgYthyphenhypheniPf4mZL4Pjv4-9i9U1ywCz0G5dEnJ7rg1EJTn2YWCCjvVEoFk5hyphenhyphenK3S3jDGBDopJm10hY6EeWsKbu7iAI/s1600/P1010717+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNVpE_PnQVCAPzTP5Uc68fk5zYC6G1y4vWmqJdhNFhy_IA9pyh7mHNhgYthyphenhypheniPf4mZL4Pjv4-9i9U1ywCz0G5dEnJ7rg1EJTn2YWCCjvVEoFk5hyphenhyphenK3S3jDGBDopJm10hY6EeWsKbu7iAI/s640/P1010717+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<span style="color: #38761d;"><i>Shuheb Hasan and Murad Ali Khan</i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEXgRzSc6x6Fu2ur6w_01omEzb9NfAfh03D1LrX2wrRGo8iL1WmqED1tPNwmLH4Ad8JaLqCGExLLR8iRPDzzO84Jev-LzjUHelvJCbukvq-x8QNPanTG8oMFF8aEtV8wo_WkfBKKPkkqw/s1600/P1010689+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEXgRzSc6x6Fu2ur6w_01omEzb9NfAfh03D1LrX2wrRGo8iL1WmqED1tPNwmLH4Ad8JaLqCGExLLR8iRPDzzO84Jev-LzjUHelvJCbukvq-x8QNPanTG8oMFF8aEtV8wo_WkfBKKPkkqw/s640/P1010689+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /> </a><br />
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<b>Shuhab Hasan is </b>a vocalist from a distinguished musical family in India, also with an incredible voice and
lovely smile. Whenever he opened his mouth something beautiful came out.
His hands were most expressive and he also appeared to be telling a
story. And at times he sang a repeat so quickly and for so long I had no
idea how he was able to breathe. Although I'm no expert, I'm pretty sure that this was <b>Sufi </b>singing, which is most spiritual.<br />
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Standing serenely, in his pink tunic and black trousers and his hair ruffled by the wind, waiting to sing, he looked for all the world like a
Bollywood Film Star. And, I have to admit that I was intrigued by what appeared to be connected buttons down part of his tunic made of what looked like diamonds. But whatever they're made of they looked very classy.<br />
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<b>Murad Ali Khan</b> is also from a distinguished musical family in India. In fact, he is a sixth generation <b>sarangi</b> and <b>sitar</b> player, with an impressive CV including playing the sarangi in many major music festivals around the world as well as in India, and has won many awards. He's also played with<b> Lady</b> <b>Gaga</b> and <b>Yoko Ono</b> and for <b>Bollywood and Hollywood films</b>. He enjoys playing both classical music and rock and fusion music.<br />
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The sarangi is an incredible instrument. I'd never heard it before but I am truely hooked. Apparently, it's popularity was declining in India and Pakistan until Murad brought it to audiences around the world, raising its profile, which was Murad's intention. His passion no less. It's wonderfully melodic (with up to fifty strings) and at times sounds like a
human voice. It complemented the voices of Medhi and Shubeb and one
flowed into another into another effortlessly.<br />
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Unfortunately, I have no full photos of Murad because he was sitting down and because I was in the VIP area not the press pit, I couldn't move around to take good photos of either him or Ze Luis Nascimento, both of whom were mainly masked by photographers.<br />
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Just to let you know that both Murad and Shuheb play in an Indian fusion rock band called Soul Savaad with records available and Murad also has records also available. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu-wuMbgzdGmQkCMt-cliEVKi5OGAmujKTbcrjkrq7QMOC73Nw9w5snpspQc7luWWKTKeqhcz3vdAA9XlahrOvii3ZPwQS7u2mQ466QqdOcAuWG6JOnw9z2gDfwh-fPjE9_tO6mNr1tOw/s1600/P1010699+%25283%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu-wuMbgzdGmQkCMt-cliEVKi5OGAmujKTbcrjkrq7QMOC73Nw9w5snpspQc7luWWKTKeqhcz3vdAA9XlahrOvii3ZPwQS7u2mQ466QqdOcAuWG6JOnw9z2gDfwh-fPjE9_tO6mNr1tOw/s640/P1010699+%25283%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3lf6mFjDySWi5_GEeMJE8RZL8ZoWUt-eXe_jvI81gXL-9La4dhDJBCrmeeLjekcYmi-QiHJI12YaNNoXIgvONt1iRuSuevWFQTKGiuK2QfUXwELxh54fYz4pHSwiNTnFc4iPQdB9CMok/s1600/P1010715.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3lf6mFjDySWi5_GEeMJE8RZL8ZoWUt-eXe_jvI81gXL-9La4dhDJBCrmeeLjekcYmi-QiHJI12YaNNoXIgvONt1iRuSuevWFQTKGiuK2QfUXwELxh54fYz4pHSwiNTnFc4iPQdB9CMok/s640/P1010715.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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And finally:-<br />
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<b>Ze Luis Nascimento </b>- the Brazilian drummer and percussionist whose face expressed sheer joy and whose energy and skill was exciting to watch and to listen to. Ze Luis trained initially as a dancer with Bahian Folk Ballet before becoming a musician, which doesn't surprise me because he seemed to let the music invade his body through the drums, which he played with just his hands.<br />
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Ze Luis has developed his own unique style of playing and is in great demand as both a solo artist as well as working with many other musicians. He has an impressive list of CDs and albums, participating in the recording of over a hundred international albums. So, we were very lucky to see him perform in Essaouira. An absolute delight, in fact.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAqp1XPMtaz8nl6eGggdDm-OPoa8-fOWhCkhbEfLxuqzE1XJpEPNQ9ujoY4GE4df1fdCG8QUW8PZpO0ZLX5EfDh1XMjrz3eN0e8kdS-o8sB0XP_U6ln845TJE19hMfMfJRJm_K14VQW5Y/s1600/P1010687+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAqp1XPMtaz8nl6eGggdDm-OPoa8-fOWhCkhbEfLxuqzE1XJpEPNQ9ujoY4GE4df1fdCG8QUW8PZpO0ZLX5EfDh1XMjrz3eN0e8kdS-o8sB0XP_U6ln845TJE19hMfMfJRJm_K14VQW5Y/s640/P1010687+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj96It2f6jbEPUejPsPK6ZbfoXCkjrZspF5vlvuyh1L8Eyk6l87oIU0XG5A6pZAdVcQ6f07Q85gK1oAPb7qhYgibwD9a2eUQlEvcowpr5vrQlU7jm-XxF9lzqRgMUfMeyEijevJIYhZtUk/s1600/P1010700.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj96It2f6jbEPUejPsPK6ZbfoXCkjrZspF5vlvuyh1L8Eyk6l87oIU0XG5A6pZAdVcQ6f07Q85gK1oAPb7qhYgibwD9a2eUQlEvcowpr5vrQlU7jm-XxF9lzqRgMUfMeyEijevJIYhZtUk/s640/P1010700.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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The world-renowned Persian percussionist <b>Habib Mefta</b> was due to play with Titi Robin et al but unfortunately had another engagement and couldn't make it. <b>Perhaps next year they can all play again at The Festival, including Habib. Now that would be something. Come on Festival organisers, an early request.</b><br />
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But back to the set on the Saturday. What I was really impressed with, as well, was that each musician communicated with each mainly just using eye contact and their smiles showed just how much they were enjoying the fabulous music they were making.<br />
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Here are some more photos:-<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNyohZ2XvJMquWldkJw8ZsaCjimxC9pS70eV0BAjUB4eNWmYw-PWJp4-UA93MnR3jtPvVeMvzx3uaTODwHaADhikiM5jvsQE5l3af0jFbnT0sgu9ePLITDcE79gm38kNaXP40378TSwLo/s1600/P1010698.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNyohZ2XvJMquWldkJw8ZsaCjimxC9pS70eV0BAjUB4eNWmYw-PWJp4-UA93MnR3jtPvVeMvzx3uaTODwHaADhikiM5jvsQE5l3af0jFbnT0sgu9ePLITDcE79gm38kNaXP40378TSwLo/s640/P1010698.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyKvWw53p9NqnhqiSGTTcVIDWMVF_i-fIzLk4hFAV2tt6hr29dL9goD9MzzycNv3GGKq2mAHdiRpgR-oft8Roe6-MtruyhFCCyQjJT2FaDMuQyZB8d8c1tEEXrsR0RctvYR9Wkubg9bYE/s1600/P1010699.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyKvWw53p9NqnhqiSGTTcVIDWMVF_i-fIzLk4hFAV2tt6hr29dL9goD9MzzycNv3GGKq2mAHdiRpgR-oft8Roe6-MtruyhFCCyQjJT2FaDMuQyZB8d8c1tEEXrsR0RctvYR9Wkubg9bYE/s640/P1010699.JPG" width="640" /> </a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTcB0m4SmSgujPh_s7-poXzvdSyBsOYbO5KUsjDryQ0GbC_hWoSA9BBQt14WcgsKXxyi6vAvSfE6T9yFBmDS3baO7bixU8G3P55n3RlXy6lydub9ak_qpQuPG6xw2yjzhP8lACHS3U5Ik/s1600/P1010706+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTcB0m4SmSgujPh_s7-poXzvdSyBsOYbO5KUsjDryQ0GbC_hWoSA9BBQt14WcgsKXxyi6vAvSfE6T9yFBmDS3baO7bixU8G3P55n3RlXy6lydub9ak_qpQuPG6xw2yjzhP8lACHS3U5Ik/s640/P1010706+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /> </a><br />
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Can't tell you how thrilled I was to find <b>another</b> short video on my camera so here it it is:-<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/NGe_dHhnNaQ" width="560"></iframe>
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And to view the whole set, courtesy of <b>daftnotstupid</b> click here and .....enjoy.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/_ppzx6TlTNU?list=PLpEpa0QU8exlj-wIsJnKJqo3uc8NzlRuK" width="560"></iframe>
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But a<b> final plea</b>.I have spent hours watching videos on <b>You Tube</b> in order to write this post and have been highly entertained. We all do it, those of us who love music. But we don't pay a penny for it and the musicians don't get paid every time we watch them on You Tube. So, my plea is this: if have enjoyed a musician's music and he or she has a <b>CD </b>out -<b> BUY A COPY.</b> I have also ordered a copy of <b>Murad Ali Khan's</b> sarangi playing from <b>Amazon </b>and will explore how to find CDs recorded by <b>Soul Samvaad</b>, currently not available on Amazon.<br />
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<b>NEXT POST</b> - coming soon -<b> Ray Lema and Maleem Abdeslam Alikane</b><br />
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<br />Maggie Knutsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09894181254839872491noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692192861754152818.post-21109944959154955102017-07-19T10:55:00.001+01:002017-07-26T23:19:02.974+01:00The Essaouira Gnaoua and World Music Festival 2017 - PART TWO - BAND OF GNAWAThe last time I saw <b>Band of Gnawa</b> perform at The Festival was in 2007 from the balcony of<b> Bab Lachour Restaurant</b> overlooking <b>Moulay Hassan Square </b>with its spectacular view of The Atlantic Ocean close by and its small islands dotted tantalising close to the land. Firstly, when they practised the whole set on the evening before The Festival whilst we were having supper and then when they played for real during The Festival.<br />
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I had never experienced music like that before: musicans moving from one genre of music to a totally different genre so effortlessly. I wrote about this and also included some photos from previous Festivals in a recent blog, which you can see by clicking <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1692192861754152818#editor/target=post;postID=1148091251503558133;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=4;src=postname" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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Their two performances counted, for me, <b>among the best </b>that The Festival has had to offer and there have been many outstanding sets, I can assure you.<br />
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So, when I saw that <b>Band of Gnawa</b> were playing again this year I was delighted. They were to play in<b> Moulay Hassan Square</b> at 23.30 on the first day of The Festival, Thursday 29th July. Really wasn't sure whether I would make it because I'm still recovering from major heart surgery but I needn't have worried: I coped with staying up very late, enjoying the music and doing a fair bit of dancing. It's amazing what a person can do if they're having fun.<br />
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No press passes, of course, but armed with those wonderful VIP badges that<b> Loy Ehrlich</b> of <b>Band of Gnaw</b>a gave us - thank you again Loy - John and I were able to get close enough to the stage to do our recordings.<br />
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So, how did their performance pan out? It was brilliant, absolutely brilliant. <b>The Band</b> had the audience in the palm of their hands. We were dancing, singing, cheering and loving every minute and again, it was one of the best sets of The Festival.<br />
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First on the stage were <b>Maalem Said Boulhimas</b> with <b>four dancers/singers </b>and they played three numbers. I guess you could say they were acting as the warm-up band and, indeed, we were nicely warmed up thank you very much before the Western musicians joined them on stage. To see the first three songs click <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b5XooS5WFrI&index=1&list=PLpEpa0QU8exlTuAy9ROxp_ARzXPUIDqhg">here</a>.<br />
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(I do wish that Festival programmes would actually<b> name the Gnaoua dancers</b> because they are just as important as the rest of the musicians and without their input, the sets would be very diminished because they add a tremendous excitement and energy.<br />
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Having watched Gnaoua dancers over many years, I can safely say that they are world class dancers as good as the best. Watch their performances as they dance and sing for several hours and, from time to time, jump high into the air and wonder if you could do even a tiny part of that. Even their 'basic' dance is pretty complicated. And all this whilst whirling the toggles on their hats. You or I would be off to the chiropractor if we tried that.)<br />
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<i>(Apologies for the quality of the photos: they were the best I could do under the circumstances but at least you can get a sense of the set and the action.)</i><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47;"><i>Maalem Said Boulhimas</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><i>Maalem Said Boulhimas and his Gnaoua group</i></span> <br />
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<span style="color: #38761d;"><i>The Gnaoua group - my favourite dancer is second from the right. He worked with Ray Lema and possibly other groups too this year.</i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMuWoGY8xw50wQBDbRI2ZObe9uFlbw-h9o-GtgsI-kXlMiIuhSh14yyJ8vRhoeuvpRnc00qYnIChBVCoYJ0UDsPlNjbdE7qDo8o_EbN0bQ_nnTD5kGPud3xQlcRXUFxcTihnJFWCuQyHY/s1600/P1010647+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMuWoGY8xw50wQBDbRI2ZObe9uFlbw-h9o-GtgsI-kXlMiIuhSh14yyJ8vRhoeuvpRnc00qYnIChBVCoYJ0UDsPlNjbdE7qDo8o_EbN0bQ_nnTD5kGPud3xQlcRXUFxcTihnJFWCuQyHY/s640/P1010647+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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And then <b>Band of Gnawa</b> came onto the stage and it all changed: guitarists <b>Loy Ehrlich</b> and <b>Eric Lohrer</b>, drummer and percussionist <b>Cyril Atef</b>, seemingly as mad as a hatter in his green cutout fez, bright red shirt and orange and white checked trousers which I could have sworn were pyjama bottoms,<b> Jean-Philippe Rykiel</b>, keyboard player, <b>Tao Ehrlich</b> (son of Loy), drummer and percussionist, and last but not least, <b>Akram Sedkaoui</b>, lead singer, strutting around the stage in tight black leather trousers and a nifty little jacket for all the world as if he owned that stage and with a beautifully haunting voice once praised by<b> Bono of U2</b>.<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><i>From left to right - two Gnaoua dancers, Tao Ehrlich, Maalem Said Boulhimas, Cyril Atef, Akram Sedkaoui, Loy Ehrlich and Jean-Philippe Rykiel </i></span><br />
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And then they started playing the <b>Beatles song - Get Back </b>and we, the audience, were all singing away because we know the words and we're bopping along until, seamlessly, it all changed into a Gnaoua song and the Gnaoua musicians came to the fore. Now, I have no idea what any of the Gnaoua songs are about because I don't speak or understand Arabic but it doesn't stop me from loving the sound, the emotion, the energy and it being so very different to Western music.<br />
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Every so often, the Dancers strutted their stuff and the audience were whooping and cheering at every jump and twirl and glide across the stage (reminiscent of <b>The Georgan State Dancers</b>). These Gnaoua Dancers can adapt their dance to every musical genre, even including hip-hop, and what's even better is that they look as if they're having an absolute ball.<br />
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Then the music morphed into another <b>Beatles number - Come Together </b>and the Western musicians took centre stage.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDMQpcpOZn7Z0RDWlsLyLlcqhL26CnS05ZyUejNp1OZarJFiIRu4o11XQYL8bbCPD5yq7QJL0EaJ2OCiO1Q7p2eeEt3ZCOeep5JUCQrZLTbpBzGDk50iJ-uEzu_-nT-QK1YEGoM9PAY9E/s1600/P1010658+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDMQpcpOZn7Z0RDWlsLyLlcqhL26CnS05ZyUejNp1OZarJFiIRu4o11XQYL8bbCPD5yq7QJL0EaJ2OCiO1Q7p2eeEt3ZCOeep5JUCQrZLTbpBzGDk50iJ-uEzu_-nT-QK1YEGoM9PAY9E/s640/P1010658+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /> </a><br />
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And so it continued as we were led through <b>Immigrant Song</b> (Led Zeppelin),<b> Who Knows</b> (Hendrix), <b>Power of Love</b> (Led Zeppelin),<b> Four Sticks</b> (Led Zeppelin) and <b>Kashmir</b> (Led Zeppelin), all the time interspersing with Gnaoua songs. As the set progressed, the Gnaoua musicians and the Western musicians joined in whilst the other group took centre stage and so there became a total fusion of music. Quite wonderful.<br />
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<span style="color: #3d85c6;"><i>From left to right - Jean-Phille Rykiel, Loy Ehrlich and Eric Lohrer</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><i>From left to right - Akram Sedkaoui, Jean-Philippe Rykiel, Loy Ehrlich and Eric Lohrer</i></span><br />
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Photos and words can give a sense of a performance and reaction but you really need to hear the music and to see and hear the <b>daftnotstupid</b> recordings click on the video playlist below....and enjoy.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/1e2s9ih1bZY?list=PLpEpa0QU8exlTuAy9ROxp_ARzXPUIDqhg" width="600"></iframe>
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<b>PART ONE</b> - published last week - covering the press pass debacle and the horse Fantasia is available <a href="http://maggieknutson.blogspot.com/2017/07/the-essaouira-gnaoua-and-world-music.html" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
<b>PART THREE</b> - coming next - will be my report on <b>Titi Robin, Medhi Nassouli, Shuheb Hasan, Murad Ali Khan, Ze Luis Nascimento and Habib Meftah</b><br />
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<br />Maggie Knutsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09894181254839872491noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692192861754152818.post-58674035236344141122017-07-13T13:02:00.002+01:002017-07-13T13:02:20.327+01:00The Essaouira Gnaoua and World Music Festival 2017 - PART ONE - PRESS PASSES AND FANTASIAIt was wonderful to be back in Essaouira after an absence of five years. Flying to Essaouira from Luton Airport made a big difference and I'm sure that many more people will visit Essaouira because of this direct link, which will be great for Essaouira.<br />
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We were staying at a new hotel - Villa de L'O - and it was a real find. A riad hotel set into the old walls with terrific views across the bay towards the village of Diabet, made famous by the visit by Jimi Hendrix way back. Our room was the terrace room at the top and we could see the beach and beyond even from our bed. Breakfast was on the terrace once we had scared off the seagulls. I must mention this breakfast because it was the best I've ever had: fresh orange juice, omelette, croissant, fresh bread, butter and jam or honey, yogurt, fruit salad and plenty of coffee. A great way to start the day.<br />
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<span style="color: #073763;"><b><i>John on the terrace </i></b></span></div>
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<b><i style="color: #cc0000;"><b>Me on the terrace</b></i></b></div>
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<i><span style="color: #741b47;"><b>Seagull on the terrace</b></span></i></div>
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But the important thing was to get those wonderful <b>press passes</b>, which we had been given in the past, so that both John and I could film/record/photograph for our internet postings from the very best position right next to the stage.<br />
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We tried as hard as we could, even waited for an age to see the person in charge at Le Medina Hotel and explained our dilemma to everyone with possible influence but it just wasn't meant to be. The official line was that because it was the 20th anniversary of The Festival too many professional photographers had applied for passes and even some of those were denied.<br />
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However, the reality was that, apart from the first set on the Friday night when the press pit was absolutely heaving, many in the press pits were young women taking a few photographs on mobile phones and then spending their time dancing. I even saw people without press passes barging their way past the security guard into the press pit. To say we felt frustrated is an understatement.<br />
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We were, however, greatly helped by<b> Loy Ehrlich of Band of Gnawa</b>, who gave us two special VIP badges so we could go into the VIP areas of all the venues and therefore could get reasonably close to the stage. And it is thanks to him that we were able to record etc as much as we did. So, a very, very big thank you Loy.<br />
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Before The Festival started, John was invited by<b> Ray Lema</b> to his practice with <b>Maalem Abdeslam Alikane </b>and I tagged along. I took these two photos which aren't as good as I would have liked but I'm putting them on anyway. (None of my photos are of the standard I've achieved in the past but my little Lumix camera does not, I discovered, take good photos from a distance. Next year I shall come armed with a much better camera.)<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><i><b>Ray Lema is on the left</b></i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_G3goNHPlM2d7EwhJTIouu4hABZevGVmulP9LNOhmoL-4X5hVMZLHFT3ezkgfKk4GSj-rJRCMfLzUhKZgENHducCb3l9zWMr9NjGKKIGYCE5cueyWYgpV8rSQ9PYoG6g3EfSmBFAt3fo/s1600/P1010584.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_G3goNHPlM2d7EwhJTIouu4hABZevGVmulP9LNOhmoL-4X5hVMZLHFT3ezkgfKk4GSj-rJRCMfLzUhKZgENHducCb3l9zWMr9NjGKKIGYCE5cueyWYgpV8rSQ9PYoG6g3EfSmBFAt3fo/s400/P1010584.JPG" width="400" /> </a></div>
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<span style="color: #45818e;"><i><b>Ray Lema's saxaphonist and drummer</b></i></span></div>
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What was fascinating about this rehearsal was that they would play a piece of music and it would sound absolutely fantastic but at the end <b>Ray Lema</b> would suggest improvements and then they'd play it again and this happened repeatedly. It was incredibly hot and yet there they were, honing their skills: quite a dedication to achieve perfection. <br />
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And now to another form of perfection: <b>The Morrocan Fantasia.</b><br />
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This is a age-old tradition which is still very popular, particularly for special occasions. It involves about thirty or forty horsemen, dressed in beautiful traditional costumes, who execute their skills by riding hell-for-leather in a straight line for about two hundred yards, stopping dead and firing their muskets at the same time so that it seems to be just one very loud shot.<br />
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This<b> Fantasia</b> takes place before The Festival and it's a delight to watch, even scary if you stand too close to one of the horses, as I did. The day before The Festival started, they performed this tradition on the beach. At first, all I saw from our terrace was two lines of people standing some distance apart from the promenade to the shore-line, and then I saw the riders practising so I got my camera and off I went to get a closer look.<br />
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Up close, it really is impressive and I'm pleased to say that at least these photos are sharp and focused.<br />
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On the next afternoon, the day that The Festival starts, there is a procession through town of many of the Gnaoua groups and you can hear the music getting closer and closer and that's also very exciting. And just below our terrace, near to one of the gates leading into the old city, the horses lined up on either side of the road for hours waiting for I know not what.<br />
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I had hoped that the procession would come through the gate and proceed between the line of horses but it just didn't happen. They stopped short of the gate and eventually dispersed. Had I not been in my dressing gown having had a bath, I would have gone down to investigate but a girl can only do so much. So, the horses and their riders also eventually dispersed but to stand without moving for several hours was very impressive and I hope you enjoy looking at these photos as much as I do.<br />
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<span style="color: #20124d;"><i><b>View from our terrace </b></i></span></div>
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(By the way, there is at least one British Women's <b>Fantasia</b> team - some of the members were interviewed on BBC Radio 4 Woman's Hour).<br />
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It was interesting to watch the setting up of instruments on the stage at the main venue <b>Moulay Hassan Square, </b>all adding to the growing excitement of the music to come, particularly the familiar sound of the ditty-ditty-ditty-ditty noise of the Gnaoau krakebs heralding the start of The Festival.<br />
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This shows the team getting ready for the <b>Bill Laurance and Khalid Sansi </b>set in Moulay Hassan Square. John and I arrived just at the end and we're really sorry that we'd missed most of it because it sounded terrific.<br />
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We missed quite a few sets that we would have liked to have seen and saw some that didn't impress at all so I shall be focusing on the three that were outstanding, starting, in my next blog (PART TWO) with the brilliant <b>Band of Gnawa</b>.<br />
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<br />Maggie Knutsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09894181254839872491noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692192861754152818.post-72884140611237562642017-06-17T18:57:00.003+01:002017-06-17T18:57:40.742+01:00NEW BOOK REVIEW - AFTER YOU by JOJO MOYESFor some strange reason, unknown even to me, I didn't realise that this novel was the sequel to the highly acclaimed <b>me before you</b>, and I wondered whether I would find the central subject matter too distressing (euthanasia) but I needn't have worried<b>: after you </b>is a delightful novel, and a real page turner.<br />
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Louisa Clark is coming to turns with life after the assisted suicide of the man she was caring for and whom she fell in love with. Will Trayner had been the best in everything he did so when he was paralysed after a road accident he couldn't accept life as a quadraplegic and despite Louisa's best efforts, he still decided to end his life in Switzerland with Dignitas.<br />
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It's this knowledge that ultimately she couldn't save him despite all their happy times together that haunts Louisa for most of the novel. She also has to cope with her injuries after she accidently falls from the roof of her building having drunk far too much.<br />
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She has a pretty horrible job in an airport bar with an overdemanding boss and an absolutely ridiculous Irish-themed costume, and has a lonely existence, choosing to live away from her family and the snide comments of people in her own town. For a while, her only friends are an odd assortment of people who have also suffered loss as they all attend a bereavement group and for a long time she doesn't feel able to reveal her own situation.<br />
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But things change and two people enter her life who have a profound influence on her. The first is Sam, the paramedic who attened to her after her accident. He's the uncle of one of the bereavement group and a pretty gorgeous hunk of a man. And the second is the bombshell of a teenager who turns up at Louisa's flat claiming to be the daughter Will never knew he had.<br />
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Lily is a fantastic character, full of high-antics and insecurities. She has run away from her school and her home and it becomes obvious very quickly that her mother is unable to cope with either her daughter or her twin sons, the product of a failing marriage.<br />
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Lily is, indeed, Will's daughter and Louisa can't help but wonder whether Will would have ended his life if he'd know that he had a daughter. She also feels some kind of responsibilty for Lily but finds it difficult to deal with Lily's erractic behaviour, often fueled by drink and drugs. And whilst she's clearly smitten by Sam, she's frightened to get too involved just in case she loses him too.<br />
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And then we have the behaviour of parents. Will's parents have now split up and neither make a good impression on Lily when they first meet her, so hung up are they on the loss of Will. Louisa's parents are also experiencing difficulties, particularly as Louisa's mother has discovered feminism and is refusing to shave her legs or cook Sunday lunch.<br />
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All this is done with a very light touch so even Will's assisted suicide is handled with sensitivity. I was very impressed with Moyes' writing style: sentences just ping off the page and descriptions are woven effortlessly into the story. And it was often surprisingly funny, too.<br />
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But her triumph is in her characters. I warmed to Louisa straight away and wanted to know how she was going to deal with all these problems so I find myself picking up the novel to read more whenever I could. And all her other characters are well-defined too so, to me, they became real people whom I cared about.<br />
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No surprise then for me to say that I thoroughly recommend this novel. It's a very good read and I shall certainly read more of Moyes' novels, including the prequel <b>me before you</b>.<br />
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Maggie Knutsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09894181254839872491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692192861754152818.post-11480912515035581332017-05-25T18:39:00.000+01:002017-07-17T18:16:03.404+01:00 The Essauoira Gnaoua and World Music Festival 2017 and The Band of Gnawa<i>The photographs below were taken by me at a number of different Essaouira Gnaoua and World Music Festivals to give a flavour of how the festival looks. </i><br />
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The beautiful coastal city of Essaouira, Morocco, is hosting the 20th Gnaoua and World Music Festival at the end of June and the <i>daftnotstupid team </i>(John (husband) and I) WILL BE THERE, after a reluctant absence of five years. Whether we will get press accreditation or not remains to be seen but having those precious press badges for the last three years of attendance made an incredible difference to our reporting of the festival.<br />
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<i>View of Moulay Hassan Square from the terrace of Bab Lachour (restaurant).</i></div>
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John's recording and filming of performances are amongst the best to be seen on YouTube and over one million hits can vouch for that and my more humble blog and photographs certainly get a following, so we shall fight tooth and nail to be considered for press badges. Quite simply, being right next to the stage gives a fantastic view that we can then share on the internet.<br />
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<i>Gnaoua dancer (right). </i><br />
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<i>Maalem Hamid El Kasri, who is in the 2017 line up, and Gnaoua dancers. The dancer on the left also dances and sings with other groups and in my opinion, seeing him many times, he is the best. </i></div>
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The line up had now been published and it's a very exciting one, including the best Gnaoua groups in the country. Sadly, no Maalem Mahmoud Guinea, probably the daddy of all the Maalems, because he passed away two years ago but both his son and brother will be performing.<br />
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<i> Maalem Mahmoud Guinea (2010) </i> <i> Gnaoua dancer</i><br />
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<i> Mahmoud's eldest son (he'll be leading his group this year) </i><br />
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<i> </i>What I want to write about, however, is <b>The Band of Gnawa</b>, who are in this year's line up and who also performed at the 10th anniversary of the festival, in 2007, because their 'practice session' on the Wednesday evening of 2007, the day before the festival started, was an occasion I shall never forget. Quite simply, it was one of the best evenings of my life.<br />
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<i> </i><br />
<i> My favourite Gnaoua dancer - if anybody knows his name please let me know </i><br />
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John and I were sitting having supper on the terrace of our favourite restaurant in Essaouira, Bab Lachour, which overlooks the main venue for The Festival - Moulay Hassan - when The Band of Gnawa came on the stage to run through their set. The line up was as follows: <b>Loy Ehrlic</b>h (one of Essaouira Artistic Directors since 2000) on bass guitar,<b> Louis Bertignac</b>, guitar,<b> Jean-Philippe Rykiel</b>, keyboard,<b> Cyril Atef</b>, drums, <b>Akram Sedkaoui</b>, singer, and <b>Maalem Said Boulhimas</b> with four Gnaoua musicians.<br />
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<i> Maalem Omar Hayat, who is in this year's line up</i><br />
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When Akram Sedkaoui was introduced in French, we thought that he was actually Bono and John mentioned this in his blog posting. Later on he was corrected by, I think Louis Bertignac, who informed us that what had been said was that Bono had praised Akram's voice. I can't remember the actual words but it was something along the lines of being silver lined.And it was true: he had a wonderful voice.<br />
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<i> Maalem Omar Hayat</i><br />
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Just to set the scene, to the right of the Moulay Hassan Square, which is the main festival venue, is the Atlantic Ocean with small islands close by, and it was a beautifully warm evening and as the set progressed the sun set over the ocean until it changed from hues of pink to ink black and the square filled pretty rapidly, mainly with young men, so there was an enormous audience and a fantastic atmosphere.<br />
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The group played a fusion between Western music and Gnaoua and what a set it was! The Band played music from The Beatles to Jimi Hendrix to Led Zeppelin and each piece of music merged into Gnaoua music and then the Gnaoua group would play for a while and then it would merge back to the Western music and so on. And I must emphasize that this was music of the highest quality.<br />
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<i> Gnaoua dancers (left)</i><br />
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We were enthralled and delighted and wonderfully entertained and what made it even more special was that the crowd watching sang along to all the Western music, totally at one with the professionals on the stage. I couldn't tell you how long it lasted but it must have been more than an hour.<br />
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<i> Gnaoua dancers (right)</i><br />
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When the festival started for real, we watched this set all over again from the terrace of Bab Lachour and it was just as good second time round.Wish we'd had press badges then and certainly wished that I had taken photographs but I only started photographing and blogging the next year. John did record the set from the terrace of Bab Lachour during their official performance and that can be accessed on his YouTube site. Just click <a href="https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL3C29F6DAD037B96B" target="_blank">here</a>. Plus, there are plenty of other recordings of this set on YouTube.<br />
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<i>John setting up his camera on our balcony facing Bab Marrakesh Square when it was used as a venue (with Gulliver Travels getting in on the act)</i><br />
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I am the first to admit that I'm not a photographer and I very rarely take photographs when not at the festival but something just switches on in my brain when I hear the music and all I want to do is, firstly dance, and then stand below the stage and photograph away, particularly trying to capture the movement of the dancers.<br />
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Writing this post and looking through my photographs had wetted my appetite for the festival to come. Bring it on, is what I say. Plus, give this girl a press badge....please.<br />
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To see my festival reports click <a href="https://maggieknutson.blogspot.co.uk/search/label/Essaouira" target="_blank">here</a>.Maggie Knutsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09894181254839872491noreply@blogger.com0