Ceiling Fans

I first encountered ceiling fans in Kerala, India in 1978. My soon-to-be wife and I lived in a small village there from December through early March and while it wasn’t the hottest time of the year, it was plenty hot. But often the ceiling fan was enough to bring relief and a much more ecological solution than air conditioning. 

 

Since then, I’ve had the good fortune to still encounter them in some places and always happily so. Like now. I’m seated at the foot of my bed writing this in mid-day heat in Ghana with the ceiling fan over my head. Heavenly. 

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Back at my ceiling fan post at 10:00pm at night. Today was more delights, working with Hope, a different xylophone teacher and quite impressed with his well-thought out and intuitive feel for lesson planning. I began to dream of him coming to take our Orff Levels Course and my Jazz Course in New Orleans next summer, only to have my enthusiasm dampened by the news that there’s a one year wait just to get a Visa appointment and that you-know-who is about to put Ghana on the bad list. The ongoing ramifications of the White Supremacy holdouts is simply maddening and reaches into all corners of disaster, putting roadblocks on the paths to human connection and artistic collaboration, amongst the more devastating deportations and ICE raids. Aarggh!!

 

This afternoon I got to give two presentations away from the xylophones and it felt good to share the larger dimension of my work beyond helping teach Ghanaian xylophone pieces. The first class was an accent on pedagogy, body percussion and learning a Ghanaian Highlife piece with drums, rattles and bells prepared first in the body. I was poised to get into Part 2 of the class when ominous storm clouds appeared and the rains came down furiously. We scrambled to get the drums protected and huddled under the covered outdoor little stage. Then the power went out and the rains beat down yet heavier. After some 45 minutes of this, the second group decided we might go ahead with the next class. So I began where I left off with the first group. Twice in the class, I made a strong comment related to social justice and at just the right moment, the thunder roared and the lightning flashed, an agreement from World. We went on to learn a Steppin’ body percussion pattern and then divide into small groups to create four more patterns. Wholly satisfying and great group creations. 

 

Then the power went out again, a few students walked out into the open a la Gene Kelly, we huddled around the tables in the covered outdoor dining area and someone discovered that a cell phone laid face up with its light on and a plastic bottle over it made for a quite lovely and effective lantern. The soft lighting, the patter of the rain, the buzz of conversation between these truly delightful people enjoying each other so much—enough for my Miracle Du Jour. And then dinner came. 

 

Here near the equator, it gets dark early, so after dinner it was only 7:00 pm, the evening performance cancelled, no TV’s or movie theaters. What to do? Out came the various card games, including Pit, a personal favorite I introduced. The power came back on and it was simply 100% wholesome fun, awash with laughter. The tangible feeling of happiness was like the cooling breeze of a ceiling fan. We will all sleep well tonight.