Solfamara!!! I’m in a band!

One of the concerns i had before leaving the UK was about music. I’d juat crowdfunded £6k to make an album and I ‘should’ have been all hands to the greasy pump to promote it and get everybody to listen to it. I never felt comfortable with all that jazz. But I was dead proud of what we’d made. The reality of the situation came slamming down at the album launch, which despite being magical and lovely and wonderful was a barely-break-even affair, and only really because  all the splendidly talented and very busy super-musicians who played on the album did the launch gratis. But to get that full band out on the road, I’d need to get gigs paying close to a grand. To get those sort of gigs you need to ‘be someone’ or have a decent following on things like social media. Have you ever run a social media marketing campaign. Urgh. So in the summer I did a few solo gigs like I always used to do. Great fun, but not GREAT fun like standing on a stage with 7 or 8 instruments, minds and souls all playing together. I could have tried to get a band together in the UK. I didn’t. I moved to Kenya, wondering what musical adventures I’d stumble into.

Here we go... Solfamara. A band. We’ve played 3 gigs already, one in a cool as eggs nightclubat the witching hour, one warm up practice gig in a tent and then this Sunday just gone, a two set, twenty song gig. The video footage was a bit ropey, but this track came out alright. Feelin’ Good.

Enjoy!

You're Never On Your Own

I found some time to scribble a song and then record it, rough around the edges, all good fun. A song for anybody wondering whether or not to jump in the river and go swimming to somewhere entirely different and new. It doesn't matter where you go - you're never on your own :-)

In the meantime, Solfamara, the band I've joined, went gigging this weekend and it was fab. Soooo much fun. Footage to come soon.

You're Never On Your Own

I've been walking in these feet so long I do not know where we belong

My love, just sing along: cos I do not know quite yet where we belong.

We can find most anything we need

In a landslide or another's eye
(oh the way she looks at me)

But hold on - don't wash yourself clean.

This river's running faster than you can feel
(if you let it in)

Heaven knows there's no place I'd rather go than right here in this moment.

Welcome home, wherever you may wander or where those feet do roam.

You're never lost in life.

You're never on your own.

Take care of what you find there.

You're never on your own.

Ease that weary mind.

You're never on your own.

You'll be alright.

www.davidgreensongs.com
YouTube

Video evidence - yes I am really here....

Here you go folks, with some shameless plugging of the last track of the album. I wonder how many of you reached it :-)

The Bluest Skies
(written with just a stick and no guitar whilst walking across Spain !)

Swallows Dive in a heat haze shimmering Fish fly in the river there, glistening I'm gonna sit right here and take it all in You walk by like a ghost in a hurricane Blown by, you don't feel anything Sit right here and take it all in The rest of the world is a distant dreaming thing Far from the city on the mountain's skin Go you and I with brand new wings We changed our lives We don't ever have to go back and be it again Do you get the feeling it will be alright Do you get the feeling it will be just fine When I'm walking and you're walking by my side There's nothing but the bluest skies I don't have a destination I don't have cares to mention I don't have worrying on my mind Don't have no fear of failure Don't let that chain derail you Hold your head up high and walk on by

Buy it on itunes :-)

Update... I'm here...

So what's been happening? I've been here over a month now, settled into a groove... it's time to send a mission report back to my loved ones and anybody else who may alight on this blog.

Greensteds School, Nakuru, Kenya, Earth Date 2018...

All is well. I am fine. I am happy.

My life is what I'd hoped for and more. It'll do :-) What did I want?

To be healthy. I am. I eat smoothies every morning with banana, avocado, dates, flax and chia seeds, magic powders, ginger, turmeric, yoghurt... there's a danger it's too healthy and my body won't cope. I swim some days, play football twice a week at least, and there's yoga on Mondays and pilates on Tuesdays. Most mornings I throw myself up on the wooden frame of my porch and do pull ups too. Why not?

To have more space and time. I do. My little home overlooks the rift valley. Storms swirl in the distance, birds flutter, mist crowds the trees in the mornings and no dawn is ever the same. I see it through my window at the foot of my bed – I've stopped shutting the curtains to let it in. My commute is, on a good day, about 45 seconds, but I still have almost complete privacy up in paradise villas, as my neighbors and I affectionately call our cul-de-sac. A small but massive benefit of this – I don't drive anymore except for the rare occasions I take charge of somebody else's car, which is exciting for the novelty. Well-being boost of not sitting in a car everyday doing the same journey... unquantifiable. I also employ a cleaner, which is expected - a way to filter some of the earnings into the local economy, and quite frankly, it's fabulous.

To be able to teach. I can. Class sizes are between 10 and 18, which means I can form relationships quickly and target the learning to individual needs... you know... teach. Every circumstance has its challenges, and they exist here, but with the numbers trimmed to where they should be (perhaps a little beyond), everything unmanageable about comprehensive education becomes manageable. The argument in the UK used to be economic and is now structural too, but 30 kids in a classroom is just not conducive to any form of real education (leaving aside the absurd curriculum), never was, never will be. They can tinker with the system as much as they like but they'll make no progress until they find a way (or divert the money from the Capital) to make class sizes practical. Rant. Can't help it. I'm programmed to throw mud at psychopaths and millionaires. I am also teaching in a private school in Kenya... I know. It hasn't escaped my attention, but herein lies complexities to be tackled another time.

To run with the river of life. And experience new things. In abundance. In just over a month I've been... holy moly... I can barely begin to list it all. Climbing in Hell's Gate, swimming in geothermal spas, Lake Boringo (wow), Lake Elementita, Lake Naivasha, hippos, giraffes, wild boar, birds, birds, birds, and people! I'm lucky to be living next door to Meg and Rose who basically tell me what to do with my spare time, and for the moment, I'm happy with the arrangement. Every weekend has been fabulous and in a week we're all off to Mozambique to cuddle whale sharks.

 

To rekindled my gratitude.  For the days. For every morning of wake up and smell the life pulsing through you. I felt it so strongly during and after Bhutan, but somewhere along the way, I got worn down by stuff – it's my fault perhaps. Commuting contributed, and parochialism, the sleazy politics of a gouty, decaying nation (I became Irish just before I left), the prevalent attitude of 'yes it's all screwed up, but we must look after ourselves before we do anything about it', and - grrrr - house prices (blurgh). And none of the above really... just having good stuff to do, a bit of space to be creative, lots of variety, good people around and no absurd levels of pressure in work is enough. And of course, the blissfulness of mornings on my porch. I had much of this on the farm in Brinsea, and I was grateful for it, but not the 30 minutes in the car I had to spend to see my city friends.

Anyway, this school has a good vein of humanity flowing through it, and a healthy respect for life, which is not synonymous with 'work'. I can do the work and live, without too much compromise. This is a good thing.

To decouple my concerns from money. In Bhutan I spent a year with no relationship whatsoever with my bank account. The money I earned was never enough to afford any kind of meaningful savings, but it was more than enough to live on, and there was nothing to buy in the shops. I checked my bank account once to see that – oh surprise – nothing had changed. Similar (ish) story so far: during the week, I spend nothing and never think about money. At the weekends, I spend without thinking. Net result – no thinking. I don't know if I'm rich or poor anymore J The company who hosts my website wants $400 dollars for the next 3 years. Ouch.

The big surprise...

1) The Band On Sunday I'm playing with Solfamara, the band I've joined. Piano, bass, lead guitar, acoustic guitar, drums, bongos/percussion, saxophone, singing shared by me, the drummer and the saxophonist. Practice room is 20 seconds walk from my house. And they're all amazing. Most of them are working here with the kids so are super talented and technical too... I'm having to life my game and learn. We had a trial gig last Sunday. Imagine how surreal it was... I'm walking out onto the stage, the only white guy in the room (festival-style tent), with four guys behind me and we launch into You Can Call Me Al and everybody gets up dancing. I play By The River next with the band, and everyone is still dancing and hollering out and having fun and it feels like... where the hell am I and how did this happen??? I can't wait for the gig this weekend.

The Big Irritation...

I'm up writing this at 5:45 am because I got fed up with the mozzies that have suddenly swarmed into existence after lulling me into a false sense of security, and the crappy net I brought won't stop falling into my face. The mozzies can bite through the gaps. I eventually got up and thwapped five, all bloated with my blood. Blurgh.

In Conclusion

That's a brief (ish) update of me. I'm well - all is good for now. I've written 4 songs in the past few weeks which is a good indicator of my sense of well-being, but I haven't made any progress at all with the novel, which is still tantalizingly close to the end. The plastics drive will continue and my new batch of crime fighting superheroes are limbering up. I'm coaching a football team, and a local team has asked me to play for them too. That's it. Newsround over.

There's always shadow sides and complexities to the way we live our lives; they have to be explored and interrogated because therein lies the edges of our self and the lines of our values, but for now...

Next stop Mozambique.

 

The 'Beyond' Begins...

This was always about Bhutanical adventures, and wow! What an adventure that was in the Land of the Thunder Dragon. Years have passed by but these restless wandering legs of mine don't settle easily... so the 'Beyond Bhutan' bit finally begins...

(warning - this post is a bit 'involved')

  

Part 1

I was idling by a river last week enjoying the play of light and the maundering burble of purling waters. Like this:

I was wondering about 'Africa'. Why? Because I'm going there. For 2 years. I've taken a teaching job near Nakuru in Kenya.

I've been wondering about 'Africa' since leaving Bhutan. I thought to myself, "if I ever do this again, where would it be?" And there was nowhere else: Himalaya or 'Africa'.  Kenya is my way in because that's where I found the school I wanted. There's plenty of reasons to go. You probably know most of them. There's plenty of reasons not to go too. This post is largely about reasons. But it was written in Great Britain before leaving. That Great country of ours. Still Great, after all these years. Some people might want to stop reading now (eek), but here we go...

'The UK' - a relatively safe and splendid pocket of the world. You can still live well if you find a decent job and work hard (ish), eating Argentinian beef and New Zealand lamb, mixing gin and tonics and watching millionaires kick footballs. All the natural teeth have long ago been pulled - we  killed anything wild that might kill us. The 'insert adjective' Empire furnished us with such an absurd headstart that wealth still runs like rivers through select channels - some of my friends don't even need to work much because their family houses turn the work of those less fortunate into an income for leisure; the landed gentry has swelled to encompass those who still stick their flags in the ground  of liberals and socialists, an impossible balancing act. 

Old Blighty has its share of devils - it's an aggressive country with a government that excels in sophisticated corruption, visibly on the decline with tatty airports and falling apart schools and hospitals (see 'sophisticated corruption'), not to mention being peopled largely by functioning workaholic/alcoholics - but as Kylie opined, better the devils you know. 

The fabric is tearing on this idyllic couch of ours and even when it feels hunky-dory - perhaps after a stroll in the white-washed countryside and a few pints with a pie - tiny cracks are chasming. We tell ourselves its ok, partly because pessimism isn't really allowed, and we recycle! And we're all good people.

It's ok!

Unless you have kids. Then it niggles at you  deep down that this lingering simulacrum of a cosy existence, be it carved out or inherited, just isn't going to last. In ye olde times, people used to leave things for the next generation; the new norm of borrowing forward doesn't work when the next generation is facing bankruptcy, both economic and environmental. Barring a miracle of science or the supernatural, we are the dying embers of the profligate age and our children's children look set to be the first ashes. 

A friend once told me that the arrival of children signals the end of despair because you can't have a child and simultaneously not have hope. She didn't mean that the child brings this hope into your life. She meant that if you love your children, your heart will break and break again if you let hope slip. So you fudge it or mangle it or make do if you have to - you make it not go away, even if it means a loosening of principles, a shift in politics, changes in behaviour. Or a pulling down of shutters.

What do we do in a world of ridiculously melting away ice, heatwaves, plastic up to our knees, species armageddon, tech-billionaires buying bunkers and forests burning?

Quick! Buy a house and hide in it. Work more. Only allow manageable quantities of the world in. Strive hard for comfort and security, resist change. Buy I-Pads. Shop on Amazon. Watch football or Netflix. Get drunk.  Pull the shutters down, for God's sake. Get through. Eeeek... 

In the Chinese Classic Yueh Chi - the Memorial of Music - it states that: music expresses the accord of heaven and earth. In that case...

We've slipped out of tune with the world. Our way of life lacks basic harmony.

Part 2

Back to the purling waters. What was I thinking about, sitting there wondering at the ripples? That I could make a simple choice...

1) Be like the water that pools at the edges (supporting a narrow biome of life but growing fetid with time - symptoms: hoarding stuff, buying houses, seeking security, pretending we'll live forever etc).

2) Be like the water that purls and meanders in the middle (playing with the light and keeping pace with the fizzling of existence - symptoms: minimal stuff, tread lightly, engage with new experience, live as if you'll be dust).

I went for the second option. This time. Perhaps as much out of habit as principle, but I shunned the security of the backwaters and slipped into the river. Great Britain is a backwater, for sure. From the vantage point of Bhutan it resembled a doddery, old, farting, retired general trying to get the VHS working and banging on about the sodding war all the time. I do love it. Parts of it. But I wish it would stop wetting itself and dribbling on about immigration and the royal family. I wish it would drop the Great and be honest about its place in the world. 

So I won't be putting fuel under the belly of the banks by buying a house and I certainly won't rent it for profit, pension or travel money to those less fortunate than me. I may be an idiot on this front, but if I acted otherwise, the feeling that I was something worse would gnaw at me. RANT: nobody should charge rent way beyond the cost of their mortgage just because 'the market' says so, especially to people they have the temerity to call friends; a free house should be enough - shame on you. 

(I mentioned this to Ammato, my new neighbour - exactly this - and I asked him if he thought I was an idiot, and he turned to me and said - NO! you re a socialist. Thank you Ammato - you are the first person who hasn't treated me like a weirdo for it. He went on to point out that socialism is not possible any more, so I may still be the idiot. Capitalism has crept into everything; we used to call it greed, now we call it necessity, when often it isn't. In Kenya, the government actively legislates against socialism, possibly as a reaction to the failed 'socialist' states that emerged out of the post-independence scramble, mostly headed up by egomaniacs who confused socialism for industrial revolutions and the gathering of huge personal wealth and stature... where was I?)  

I certainly won't change the world or any of these things. In Kenya I'll see wholesale corruption on a crazy scale amid a Chinese land grab and an infrastructure campaign that's being replicated all over the continent. If Russia and the Middle East now own London, the Chinese are getting hold of Africa, which makes Mrs May's trip all the more desperate and hilariously out of touch. 

I'll try to keep pace with the fizzling of existence and playing with the light by going somewhere alien and unfamiliar and find myself being... me. I'll strip back again, live with less and tread lightly with small footprints. I'll go with the living waters and try to put my concerns, cares and fears where they belong... in the air. Fear makes us run to our fenced-off back gardens, and I get it - it should. But let the wind have my fears, as it will one day have all of me when this ends and I go back to the river. 

Bhutanese monks are taught to envision their own annihilation and the end of everybody they know and love on a daily basis. It's terrifying in our culture, liberating theirs. We cling to permanence where there is none, they cleave to transience and change. So - move to Africa. Why bother with why when you've got why not? As the deputy head said to me, of course coming out here is nuts, but you get to live in Africa! Meanwhile half the world is struggling to survive. The other half is struggling to live well. And the Earth is struggling to keep it all going, and more people are coming everyday to add to the mindless trampling. But the light still plays on the rushing waters that purl and fizzle and give life, time ticking by inexorably, as a steady illusion that binds our egos to it all. 

Take your clothes off.

      Let go your industry. 

             Let slip some ambition. 

                     Jump in and go swimming :-) 

Part 3

Is this why I am going to Kenya? Not entirely. I was forced to drive at 30mph on an empty four-lane M5 at midnight. That contributed too - bring on the flow of unregulated traffic, let slip the controls. So partly, that too. And of course, lions. And hippos. And colour. This sort of thing:

Next post will be less intense :-) and more 'pictures'