rap saved Beah's life
i just finished teaching a summer writing course. the primary text for this course was Ishmael Beah's A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier, which is also the first year reader at the school where i work.
students in this summer course wrote their final essay on Beah's use of music. in their work, many students noted that music, in particular rap and reggae, saved Beah's life. he skirted certain death on a number of occasions, students observed, either by performing rap, by repeating meaningful Marley lyrics in his head, or by writing out complete soundtracks in a notebook. music triggered memories, the means for healing when Beah was in rehab, as the first grip of the AK-47 squeezed them out of his mind on the front.
Beah also experienced environmental sounds as music: the beat of rapid fire gunshots in the distance, the melody of dying gutteral wrenching, the percussive crack of dry branches under the weight of soldiers' boots, the soft timbour of rain on the underbrush. this music saved Beah's life, too, when he was hiding from the rebels and, later on, after he joined the boy soldier ranks; during these two periods, he didn't have a player with him, so to keep on, he listened as if the world out there composed tunes for him -- violent and anguished tunes, cautionary tunes, soothing tunes.
students connected to Beah because the music he listened to was also the music they listened to. although they did not live through a war of the same sort as Beah did and although they were not compelled to serve as boy soldiers, many students fought wars on urban streets, wars at home, and wars with themselves. many claimed to know a need similar to Beah's desperate moan for lyrics and bass and refrain. music saved their lives, too, even as it folded into wind around the lives of their friends and family.
to those of us who need music for transport to other worlds, who find music in our environments that sets the pace, who beseech music to time travel, who make music to tell a true (war) story, the power of music is power -- to know, to move on, to remember, to change, to stay alive.
the students this summer didn't even know who patti smith is, but they definitely gitR.
students in this summer course wrote their final essay on Beah's use of music. in their work, many students noted that music, in particular rap and reggae, saved Beah's life. he skirted certain death on a number of occasions, students observed, either by performing rap, by repeating meaningful Marley lyrics in his head, or by writing out complete soundtracks in a notebook. music triggered memories, the means for healing when Beah was in rehab, as the first grip of the AK-47 squeezed them out of his mind on the front.
Beah also experienced environmental sounds as music: the beat of rapid fire gunshots in the distance, the melody of dying gutteral wrenching, the percussive crack of dry branches under the weight of soldiers' boots, the soft timbour of rain on the underbrush. this music saved Beah's life, too, when he was hiding from the rebels and, later on, after he joined the boy soldier ranks; during these two periods, he didn't have a player with him, so to keep on, he listened as if the world out there composed tunes for him -- violent and anguished tunes, cautionary tunes, soothing tunes.
students connected to Beah because the music he listened to was also the music they listened to. although they did not live through a war of the same sort as Beah did and although they were not compelled to serve as boy soldiers, many students fought wars on urban streets, wars at home, and wars with themselves. many claimed to know a need similar to Beah's desperate moan for lyrics and bass and refrain. music saved their lives, too, even as it folded into wind around the lives of their friends and family.
to those of us who need music for transport to other worlds, who find music in our environments that sets the pace, who beseech music to time travel, who make music to tell a true (war) story, the power of music is power -- to know, to move on, to remember, to change, to stay alive.
the students this summer didn't even know who patti smith is, but they definitely gitR.
posted by clh at 9:32 AM
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