Having said all this, it would
still be necessary to provide a broad perspective on one
dimension in which certain socio-musical activities can be perceived
artistically.
The performance of indigenous music is now frequently divorced from its original
social and religious setting. For example, the Apirede (Ashanti executioner's) dancemay be
staged
in a concert or on a national park as a form of secular entertainment without
any
accompanying execution (though this may sometimes be dramatised). Similarly a
war
dance, performed by school children in a festival, does not necessarily signify
hostilities
or tribal warfare taking place, and no one would expect to witness war
activities.
Various forms of tribal rituals are nowadays performed as musical, dance or
drama
pieces in theatres built in Western European fashion. Although these are
perceived
aesthetically, it is not in the same way as we may listen to a Brahms symphony
with
such "disembodied concentration". Whatever the music, whatever the
medium, and
wherever it is staged, it is evident that the audiences are not
"participant" audiences,
though they may frequently breach their designated space with shouts, clapping,
and
waving arms (Yi-Fu-Tuan, 1990: 243). Subsequently, throughout the country,
alongside
the developments in choral music there has been a steady growth in the number
of
'cultural' drama, music, and dance ensembles. Most of thesegroups take
inspiration and
guidance from the activities of the National Dance Ensemble. Even such art
works as
sculptures which
might have been created for exclusively ritual and or spiritual purposes,
.. are today increasingly produced for sale to tourists or foreign commercial
buyers. Many such 'made for export' works imitate traditional pieces, or in
any event continue a ritual artifact tradition beyond the survival of the
beliefs that underpinned it, indeed, beyond the life of the ritual itself
It is perhaps easiest to see an artistic dimension of music in a specific
cultural
ceremony. For example, watching a funeral celebration, we can identify a number
of
participating groups. First are the elders who are seatedto receive donations
on behalf
of the bereaved family. This group is culturally obliged to be present. The
second are
sympathizers and well-wishers; who must also fulfil social and moral
requirements. The
third group are by-standers. Their presence is largely to appreciate the whole
proceedings from which both cultural lessons are learned and aesthetic
pleasures are
derived. A funeral is, therefore, to a large extent, a kind of dramatic
performance but
based
upon cultural conventions. It is also a time to learn: like a work of art, it
teaches.
"The master-of-ceremonies, priest, [chief mourner], producer, or director
createsart from
the ensemble of media and codes
There are actors as well as
critics. These proceedings could occur without the accompaniment of music, if
for
example, the deceased was known not to have actively participated in communal
projects during his or her life time.
However, a few yards away from this group, the musicians-a highlife band, a
choir, a brass band, or any indigenous musical association
- set up their stage.
as "a summation activity for the expression of values, a means whereby the
heart of the
psychology of a culture is being expose" (Merriam, 1964: 225). To the
musicians, all
those present at the funeral ceremony - elders, sympathizers, and spectators-
constitute
a target audience who must be treated to a satisfactory performance. In the
musicians'
opinion, the occasion is also for them to display their expertise, and win the
confidence
and admiration of the public. In part, their invitation to future social and
similar
functions is dependent upon the success of that day's performance. They
therefore
strive to achieve the best level of artistic excellence. Furthermore, some of
the
spectators present may have nothing to do with the funeral at all. These are
drawn to
the arena by the music. Some may come from other villages, far and near,
attracted by
a particular musician or group of musicians in attendancethat day and their
presenceis
purely aesthetically motivated.
At this stage, then, the funeral takes on a different meaning besidesa mere
cultural
performance. It becomes a concert hall, though not in Western theatrical sense,
in
which activities are simultaneously culturally mediated, artistically shaped,
and
aesthetically inspired.
Let us take the extreme case of the Sisala of Northern Ghana as another
example.
The
gangaar drums have been sounded. "An elder is dead, and all sympathizers
are
invited". There, under the tree, are seatedthe drummers, and facing them
is a group of
women, wailing and pacing up and down to the rhythm of the drums. They are
surrounded by other members of the village who are looking on enthusiastically
though
not without sympathetic feelings. To the ordinary observer, the significance of
this
might be blurred, but to the main actors, who know the traditions and code of
values,
it is quite explicit: it is a musical activity.
Blending the sound of wailing
with the rhythm of drums is an artistic enterprise. It is a cultural activity which
serves as "a
moral and symbolic force, a symbolic indicator of change, and a link with the
past and
future" , but what is being presented on stage,for both
the living and
the dead, is art. Nothing seems to happen at random but activities are
musically and
artistically interwoven, controlled and directed by the master drummer just as
the
conductor of a symphony orchestra "blends and opposes the sounds of the
different
instruments to produce an often unrepeatable effect" (Turner, 1988: 23).
No matter how
deeply emotional one feels about the loss of the elder, you cannot join in this
musical
mourning if you are not an expert drummer or if you are unable to synchronise
your
steps with the rest of the singers. The performers are engaged in a creative
activity,
combining fact and memory on one hand, imagination and adventure on the other.
As
Richard Schechner has argued, "It is also clear that rituals are not safe
deposit vaults of
accepted ideas but in many cases dynamic performative systems generating new
materials and recombining traditional actions in new ways" (Schenchner,
1993: 228).
The question remains, what are the by-standers doing? Are they sympathizing or
attending a concert? It is unlikely that anyone present would not require both
a
musicianly and an artistic attitude in order to appreciate this artful cultural
performance.
Visually, it is a ritual, drama, but aurally, the spectators are listening to
music.
In this chapter we have raised several setsof puzzles, between old and new,
falsity
and truth, myth and reality. It could be said that the issue of what is social
and what
is artistic about traditional African music remains a challenging phenomenon
for
scholars. However, the ethnic creative capacity of traditional Ghanaian
musicians has
been pointed out, but this leaves some important questions unanswered. What
role do
children play in the socio-musicalactivities in Africa andwhat impact do
thesemusical
developments have on their creative experiences?
As
we now pursue the task of making education more relevant to the child's
environment, it becomes incumbent upon educators to seeknew insights upon the
world
in which the children live. Children are part of us; that is, they are part of
our
environment, but they also have their own world within the larger one. Every
adult has
beena child before and every child is a potential adult. Thus it could be
saidthat the
roots of our culture are the children. Children's educational needs may be
better
illuminated by an understanding of the ways in which they live in, build up and
increase
mastery over their surroundings. The next chapter surveys the underlying
musical
experience of Ghanaian children and the extent to which they are involved in
music
creatively.
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