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It's
not often that a true folk hero comes to Brighton. Appearing
in the festival this year is Dama of Mahaleo. Robin Pridy
gets a rare interview.
 During
the late Sixties, musicians like Joni Mitchell and Bob
Dylan sang protest songs that ignited an entire generation.
Mitchell sang about 'paving paradise to put up a parking
lot' and Dylan rasped that 'the times they are a changing'
with such conviction many thought the world would never
be the same again.
Thirty-five
years on, you don't see many of these ageing rockers tilling
the fields, feeding the hungry with their own soup or
walking the country with a guitar and a few good songs.
Yet
hundreds of miles away in the Indian Ocean, on the isolated
island of Madagascar which sits off the east coast of
Africa and has one of the most rare ecosystems in the
world, these rumbles of discontent hit a mark which helped
create Madagascar's most popular and powerful voice of
the people - a nationally adored musical group composed
of socially aware politicians, doctors and academics,
who for the past 30 years have put all their efforts into
digging their country out of extreme poverty, decades
of dictatorship and environmental disaster.
This
group, called Mahaleo, are literally at the frontline
of keeping the parking lot out of paradise - and that
is no mean feat in what is the eleventh poorest country
in the world, who's population of 15 million has doubled
in the past 40 years; a place where only ten per cent
of its original forest remains, and the average life span
of a man is 52 years old.
Yet
against this grinding backdrop of poverty, the country's
long love affair with Mahaleo is as strong as ever, and
they continue to draw crowds of up to 70,000 to their
outdoor concerts even today. In fact, their three generations
of ecstatic fans often drown out the band's singing with
their own screaming versions of the band's entire repertoire,
which to date consists of over 300 songs.
The
group holds a special place in the heart of almost every
inhabitant of Madagascar, not only because they possess
that unique ability to sing about everyday life with incredible
clarity and wit, but because they were the first band
to sing in Malagasy, the country's native language, while
most popular music was still using French or English.
They also do not shy away from playing traditional folk
rhythms using instruments such as the 'lute' of Madagascar,
known as the Kabosy, as well as an indigenous flute and
native percussion instruments, combining them flawlessly
with western instruments and vocal traditions.
Cultural
Studies professor at the University of Southampton and
self-professed Mahaleo convert Ulrike Meinhof works closely
with Malagasy people in her research. She says that there
is not one person in Madagascar who does not own a Mahaleo
record - in fact, many Malagasy expats she has met have
been known to cry upon mention of the musical group. "They
are the absolute symbol of everything the Malagasy have
left behind," she says. Meinhof admits that in translation,
the Mahaleo lyrics do not have quite the same effect,
but she believes they remain amongst the most poetic and
extraordinary she has heard.
One
of their well-known love songs compares a young woman's
skin to the 'heart of a peeled orange', while another
song about a village fool called Mbola has become so engrained
into the Malagasy culture that people refer to a foolish
person as an 'Mbola'. And they are not afraid of criticising
the powerful, with one protest song remonstrating the
richer city folk: 'The guitar is out of tune/ And so is
the voice/ So let's all listen carefully... A well crafted
lie appears to be unquestionable/ People of Promises City
compete in selling/ Their latest vain promises.'
The group's reverential popularity has rarely stepped
outside Madagascar however, with few Westerners even having
heard of their music. And the chance of them gaining global
popularity is remote, as the seven members of Mahaleo
cannot stray far from their homeland. They all have full-time
professions alongside their musical careers - several
are doctors, which makes touring and performing together
very difficult.
Mahaleo's
appeal is very much due to their leader, Zafimahaleo Raosolofondrasolo,
or Dama, which means 'of Mahaleo'. During Madagascar's
political upheaval in the Sixties and Seventies, when
the Malagasy people threw off French colonial rule in
favour of independence and a socialist government, a teenage
Dama was taking a great interest in what he calls "Anglo-Saxon
popular music", such as Jacques Brel and Pete Seeger,
listening to imported albums at the houses of "more
musical friends". But Dama had his own notion of
what made a protest song, and by 1972, Dama had formed
Mahaleo and was penning his own lyrics, singing popular
music for the first time ever in his native Malagasy to
thousands of people at the mass protests taking place
throughout the country.
He
is Madagascar's equivalent to the Beatles and Bob Dylan,
a man with an infectious laugh and genuine love for his
country, who is now as equally known for his grassroots
work as a sociologist and politician in some of the poorest
regions of Madagascar. "I have no money, but I have
a guitar," he laughs. He believes Mahaleo's continuing
popularity is simple. "We write lyrics from the life
of the people's everday life," he says. "We
live with the people and feel what the people feel. That's
why we can create songs."
In
addition to his status as the country's most famous cultural
icon, Dama has been an independent MP for the past ten
years. He now represents the country's largest, most isolated
and poverty-stricken region of Ambatofinandrahana. "It
is better to have one foot in the life of the people and
one foot in the parliament," says Dama of his dual
careers, "because we need to communicate our ideas.
Most politicians think we should develop Madagascar by
economics and money," he adds, "but we think
the foundation of important development is culture."
A
large part of Dama's job now involves spending full days
travelling from village to village on extremely poor quality
roads, sometimes having to walk to reach them in the rainy
season, where he then sings songs to the villagers, helps
with development projects and finds out what kind of difficulties
they are facing. Dama believes that being closely involved
with the trials of Madagascar's rural population is crucial
to the country's development, as 80 per cent of the population
lives in the countryside. "To be near the people,
that is my way of working," he says. "To promote
Malagasy culture, we must grow and learn from country
people,"
Dama's
training as a sociologist and agriculturist has certainly
allowed him to work much more closely with the people
in the countryside, what he calls the heart and soul of
Madagascar. His 'bottom-up' development projects have
involved the villagers at every stage in the decision
making and developmental process. This way he claims that
the projects will not cease to function after the foreigners
or developers have left. The villagers' local expertise
is combined with teaching them new ecological practices
such as solar energy and irrigation schemes that employ
gravity rather than electricity.
His
latest project involves installing a network of rural
radio stations throughout Madagascar, mostly for regional
farmers. "Malagasy is an oral language," he
explains. "It is better for farmers to develop their
ideas by talking." It was also an attempt to get
away from the government's stranglehold on most of the
country's media. "We are so used to top-down communication
because we have had a dictatorship," says Dama, "Always
top-down, top-down. By doing this, we can also promote
independent radio in the country."
He
is a busy man to say the least, his varying projects made
all that much harder by recent political developments.
A
presidential election in December saw President Didier
Ratsiraka, who wielded absolute power in the country for
a total of 17 years, return to office amidst claims that
he rigged the votes. For eight weeks after this election,
tens of thousands of people joined in a national strike
and took to the streets of the capital to force him from
power and to install opposition candidate and millionaire
businessman Marc Ravalomanana, the capital's previous
mayor.
Protests
at times gathered more than half a million people, and
though its beginnings were mostly peaceful, almost carnival-like,
the now four-month old political crisis has seen more
than 35 people killed, two presidential candidates claiming
office, and spiralling black market prices for food and
petrol. Madagascar's Supreme Court has now annulled the
results of December's presidential election, and the votes
are to be recounted.
In
the meantime, Dama soldiers on, refusing to let bombed
bridges manned by Ratsikara's supporters keep him from
reaching his constituents. He still fills up his car with
petrol, though exhorbitant black market prices mean a
full tank is now about £140 while the average monthly
salary in the country is £30. And his optimism remains
strong for a better future.
"Last
year, we had a government with a dictator and this makes
it very hard to be an independent MP, so I thought perhaps
I would leave," he confides. "But now, there
is a new government, and people in Madagascar want to
change." He laughs, "They say to me, 'We don't
want you to leave. You must stay', so I will stay."
And with that decision, it may just be that the entire
country breathed a collective sigh of relief.
Dama
and Charles from Mahaleo play for the Brighton Festival
on Thursday, 23 May, 1pm; tickets £6, Pavilion Theatre,
New Road.
copyright New Insight 2002
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