Musical Adventures

A few days later, we set off to Busoga, Eastern Uganda, to record traditional music. Who would
have thought I would find myself wildly dancing and shaking my pelvis as fast as is humanely
possible with Andy, to exciting xylophone music in a remote Ugandan village in 1992. The huge
crowd that had gathered screamed and shouted happily as they watched the Bazungu (white
people) engaging in Busoga dance. The hot sun shone brightly on the beautiful rich red soil, and
we were surrounded by bright clothes, huge smiles, laughter, and wild greenery. I noticed that
Peter was desperately trying to get his recording gear set up quickly. He assembled the
microphone in a tree over the instrument near the main vocalist just before the musicians started
playing. He looked relieved about not missing any of the amazing musical feast.

We travelled to Nakibembe Xylophone Group where Ugandan musicians and dancers
warmly welcomed us. It took several hours of chatting to our excited crowd before the musicians
had dug a huge pit in the ground. I wondered what they were doing. I then saw them laying
down the 21-key embaire on two banana stems while vast crowds gathered in amazement and
wonder at the only Bazungu for miles. I felt very at home; the atmosphere was electric. I ordered
a 15-key xylophone to be made and was informed by a xylophone maker that I would also need
to pay for a chicken. I tried to ask why but was told it would be a surprise. We all returned to
Kampala, with me questioning why I had left money for a chicken.

Sometime later, I received a message that my wooden xylophone was ready to be
collected. We all drove back to Busoga and left the vehicle in Iganga, the nearest small town to
Nakibembe. We boarded a matatu and then rode on the back of boda boda (motorbikes) with all
our recording equipment. I had fallen in love with Uganda, the friendly hospitable people, the
beauty of the country, the rolling green hills and glorious red sand, and the wealth of colour.

As we entered the wooded rural area, each of us riding a small motorbike, a sense of
foreboding crept up on me. Goodness, we could be kidnapped or murdered, and no-one would
ever know, I thought to myself. Uganda’s history with the atrocities conducted by Amin and
others was etched in my mind, but this trip was to open my mind. As we got closer, I spotted my
15-key wooden xylophone very beautifully painted on every note. All my morbid thoughts

immediately left my head and were replaced with excited enthusiasm when I saw the beautiful
workmanship that had produced my delightful new instrument.

I was asked by Mugwisa, the xylophone maker, to go into the banana plantations, where
I was met by the leaders of the group as well as a live chicken – squawking aggressively as if it
knew something was about to happen. One of the musicians held the chicken and suddenly cut
its throat. Blood spurted everywhere. Oh, I do not much like this, I thought, being a vegetarian.
The musicians poured the remaining blood on the middle key of the xylophone.

‘Why do you do this?’ I asked quizzically, and Mugwisa replied. ‘Whenever we make a
xylophone, we pay our respects to the elders who started the xylophone-making tradition in this
village. We pour blood on the middle key to give the xylophone its heart, otherwise it will not
sound good’.
‘Oh, I see’, I said, feeling very privileged to learn the history of this musical tradition in
Busoga. ‘What do you kill if I buy a twenty-one key embaire?’
Mugwisa laughed. ‘A goat’, he replied with a smile. I also smirked, although I did not
approve of an animal being slaughtered.

The wild music continued to celebrate the christening of my xylophone with eight
energetic musicians. They sat over the instrument whilst frantically beating an octave with a stick
in each hand, four musicians on one side and four on the other. The most amazing sound
emerged from the interlocking tunes. The largest twenty-one key was so big that the musicians
also used it as a drum, beating the centre with their hand whilst playing the xylophone at the
same time. The embaire players were joined by other musicians shaking nsassi (shakers), and
endingidi (tube fiddles) – a small African violin with one string – and a flute player.

The crowd got bigger and bigger, with people coming from all the surrounding villages.
Screaming pierced the air as two male Ugandan dancers suddenly appeared wildly wiggling their
hips and pelvises as fast as humanly possible. It was very sexy, energetic dancing. On occasion,
they would move remarkably close to unsuspecting women in the crowd, who would look very
embarrassed and then hand the dancers Ugandan schillings. Andy, Peter, and I became red in the
face when the gyrating male dancers ‘shook their jigs’ in front of us. We all laughed in
embarrassment and gave money, then joined in with the energetic hip wiggling much to the
hilarity and screaming of the gathered crowd.

After a couple of very enjoyable hours, the performance reached its climax and ended
when it had become dark. We made our way back to Iganga, where we stayed for the night in a
dubious hotel. We stopped for lunch on the way home and listened to our recordings. We were
all still feeling extremely excited and elated by the beautiful sounds, lively audience, musicians,
bright colours, my embaire xylophone, and of course the mysterious chicken.

…I brought the Ugandan 21-key embaire back to my house and had a stand made. I managed to
obtain lottery funding for my friend and Ugandan musician Seby to teach Ugandan embaire to
the local community in Leamington Spa. This included teaching to performance level, as well as
the other traditional instruments and dancing. Our performing group was named ‘Embaire
Strikes Back’ after the Star Wars film. We performed at several festivals and events, including for
the Queen at the Jubilee celebrations at Westminster Abbey. We also performed at the 25-year
anniversary of the World Wildlife Foundation in London, together with other musicians
including Brian Adams, Peter Andre, Kiki Dee, and Elton John.