Small problems in Slemani

Greetings loyal readers and worried family members! Sorry about the hiatus in posts. Internet access, like the power grid in Iraq, can be iffy at times, and I just couldn't get online at the few times I've had free to post.

Teaching continues at an exhausting pace (although of course I never feel exhausted til we actually get home). I teach a wind class for two hours each morning, have a three hour rehearsal with the band in the afternoon, and then teach lessons in the evening until 9 or until my translator drops.

The kids here are hungry. Every moment that I am not actually running a class, they swamp me with questions about their instruments, beg for more method books, ask me for private lessons, and generally keep my head spinning with requests and advice. I'm keeping two notebooks to try to stay on top of things.

It would take me forever to recap everything from the last couple of days, so I just pick up with today-- it should give an idea of the pace and the atmosphere here.

Bayanit Bash! (good morning) Breakfast at hotel. Orange juice (sticky and sweet from concentrate), a kind of round Lebanese roll, and eggs. I put butter and honey on the roll-- there's also carrot jam and rose water jam available-- interesting, but after a couple of tries I'm back with the tasty Iranian honey.

The academy runs a bus from the hotel to the complex where we teach, but it's an easy fifteen minute walk so I use the opportunity to get some exercise. The streets are bustling; I pass a school, headquarters for one of the Kurdish political parties, and several roasting hot naan shops on the way over. I have to cross one major street on my way there; probably the single moment each day when my life is in the most danger. Iraqi streets have no traffic lights-- with the power constantly going off and on, what would be the point? The intersection in front of the school is manned by a team of traffic cops at least 16 hours a day.

I usually get to the school early enough that I can organize music that kids have requested from the day before. We have sixteen boxes of donated music here. The kids are eagerly copying every method book and solo they can get their hands on. A lot of the music is not actually useful though, and what we have is not comprehensive. The clarinets are crestfallen that we don't have more solos for them, and the flutes are disappointed that we have no method books. Everyone is happy with the shipment of reeds though, and I am happy to distribute the slide grease and valve oil that Osmun Brass kindly donated. All of the music is being catalogued and will be donated to institutions and libraries when we are finished here.

Chony! (hello) I usually begin my class with some breathing lessons. I wasn't sure how those would go over with this crowd but it's become a popular part of the day. I wish I had Sam Pilafian's repertoire of ideas for breathing but I'm trying to get creative. Then I move into a masterclass format. This is less popular and some kids have even griped that they are not participating enough, but with 20 kids at wildly different levels, from total rhythmic and tonal incompetence to professional potential, and my limited classroom skills, this seems the best way. I try to involve everyone as much as I can and I'm nothing if not a storyteller in the classroom so my loyal translator Vasim is really kept on his toes.

Bash ni-e! (not good) Lunchtime seems a good time to mention a couple of the problems we've been having, because lunch is one of them. The catering is provided by some company that American Voices was forced to hire for political reasons. It consists of some kind of Iranian flatbread which makes cardboard seem tender and flavorful, rice and a vegetable. Today it was okra. No matter how hungry I am, the lunch leaves me cold, so my calorie intake is dropping.

Another problem has been lack of rooms. A couple days ago I might have mentioned that I would have an office to work in. Fantasy. The building with offices has been declared off limits by the political branch in residence there, so we are left scrambling for any available space. My wind class is now in what we call the "garage", a decrept building with a makeshift stage, leaning walls, and a fan-studded ceiling that continually drops bits (and occasionally slabs) of plaster onto the group. No air-conditioning or windows. The portable airblower we brought in is noisy and dirty, and anyway during the regular blackouts doesn't work, so that we are plunged into stifling blackness for a minute or two. (The students whip out their cellphones to provide a little light).

After lunch I have the luxury of being on stage, where I am conducting the band. It is largely a pre-formed ensemble called the Sulemani Wind Orchestra, supplemented by the students that I have begged to play. The conductor of the band, Mr. Najat is apparently a rather politically powerful and short-tempered figure and some students are afraid that they will get in trouble if they play in the group without his permission, even when I am conducting. I've met Mr. Najat and he has been gracious to me, so we'll hope there are no lasting repercussions.

The group still consists of the following: six reasonably competent flute players (and piccolo that I have yet to actually hear audibly when the band is playing), seven clarinets of varying skills. My best clarinetist, Akam, plays baritone sax, where he is seriously needed (there would be no bass in the band otherwise). I have an earnest tenor sax and an alto sax who always wears a baseball cap but plays more or less correctly if I glare at him. Oh yes, TWO oboes. One of them is not entirely clueless. Oboe is tough as reeds and decent instrument maintenance is hard to come by here. A bassoon appeared today, to my great joy.

I have a trombonist-- disaster! Doesn't know his positions and plays random notes (I mentioned him in my last posting). I've been breathing down his neck but he has taken it well. Today, he took me aside, and in broken English said, "Mr. Andrew, I love you! You are my rose!" Very heartwarming, and probably the most romancing I'll ever get from a trombone player! Gene, (the other wind teacher) and I have been giving him no end of trouble and now he occasionally plays in rhythm, so I guess he is appreciative.

After band I teach a series of lessons. I have one horn player, but I've given two people intro-to-horn lessons. I've also taught a nine-year-old piccolo player Minuet in G (well, the proper rhythm for it), and several trumpet players. I wrapped up today helping the really good clarinet player start to work out the Mozart Clarinet concerto. Tons of fun.

Well, this entry has gone on, to make up for the last few days. Obviously there's more to tell. Hopefully, internet will be up tomorrow as well and I won't fall behind again.

Thanks all for posting comments or e-mailing about the blog! It's nice to know that I'm not writing for the ether. Any feedback or communication is most welcome. I haven't figured out how to post photos with captions here, so I may soon begin adding them to a special folder on my facebook page. Keep an eye out!