Moldova, 2000
My much old cousin, Cher-El, had visited affiliated churches in the small country of Moldova, nestled between Romania to the West and Russia. The year before she spent entirely with them and many of the children became like her own.
After spending some time in Romania, this was a change. The language sounded Romanian while all the words were written in Cyrillic lettering. As poor as some parts of Romania had been this was a stark contrast, crossing the border. Friends drove me across after picking me up in the city of Sighet, winding through lovely grass valleys and incredible snow covered mountains in between. My first bit of culture shock came noticing that the guards on the Moldovan side were laughing curiously at me, talking to my friends, watching this American play with the stray puppies during our stop. It was something new to them, I found out. You don't touch the stray dogs. For good reason normally.
I'm told I'm not the first American in a foreign country to be unable to resist playing with the dogs that come near. I've done it in India too, to great amusement of bystanders. My hands would be black when I was done but worth it.
That night I went to sleep by candlelight under a goat-hair blanket. I was told an earlier storm had knocked out the national power grid. Power would come back, but much of the farm didn't use it. I rather enjoyed the feeling.
In a few days, we would drive to Chisinau, the capital, for the wedding of a daughter of one of the families nearby. All of these people, part of the loose denomination of my then-church, knew my cousin well and I was welcomed with open arms everywhere because of her. They were happy she sent a representative.
My third day, the father and sons I was staying with took me to an afternoon prayer meeting. I remember the hymns and that at least one voice stood out prominently. I was introduced to the young girl who, like many around, spoke a modest amount of English, practiced during my cousin's stay. I noticed a trend here, as in Romania, of a people that liked to talk and would eagerly exhaust every word in their limited foreign vocabulary to do so.
She was going to the wedding too, along with a number of other young relatives. Someone had the idea to do something special for the couple, and particularly to sing a song. I was in. Six of us met for a number of days at another house where I would be staying (I was passed between houses like a gift parcel) which belonged to a couple who seemed far to young to manage their own farm, but that was the norm.
We picked a song, an English, very pretty hymn. Partly in my honor, but largely because English was exotic and in vogue, something out of the ordinary. I taught them the words, the pronunciations, the harmonies. It was acapella in the beginning, though we would add another sister of the bride who had picked up the guitar herself (she proved extraordinary). But the sound was off. They had the time so, afternoons for several days we devoted just to the song. I remember twice singing myself hoarse. One of the girls was nearly tone-deaf, but I noticed if I put her next to the stronger girl, she improved. That worked on a bit who joined later. I ended up moving people around, practicing individually at times. As long as they were happy to stay, I kept pushing. And the sound became wonderful. When we got to the wedding, we added two Ukranians who had come to pick me up from there and take me to Lvov, part of the same church. The short practice was even better.
Unfortunately, the actual wedding song didn't turn out with the same perfection. Something degraded from that last practice, but it was still quite good.
All the time I'd spent part of choirs, this was my first time organizing anything of the sort. They wanted to do something nice and I had some ideas. Everything else came surprisingly naturally.
At the convention, I spent some time with two Romanian brothers, Reuben and Daniel. Among many others there, they loved singing. It didn't take much and they harmonized beautifully. I caught them singing going down the stairs to lunch and joined in. We tried a number of hymns, different languages (I'd already figured out that you needn't understand the words to pronounce them). We ended on "Mine eyes can see the Glory (Battle Hymn of the Republic), attempting it in a number of parts. English not being their native language (though they were fluent), one of the brothers missed the chorus and proceeded onto the next verse, while the other and I held the chorus part. And strangely, it worked. Whatever combination of pace and notes, we all heard it work.
After the convention, at the seminar, different groups of youth would get together and sing for the whole. Often it broke out by country (French, German, Polish) or language (the few Americans stuck together with the Canadians and Australians, with other non-English rounding out enthusiastically). An American girl had the idea to put together a larger choir. When we were trying to figure out what to sing, I suggested the version we had stumbled on with the Romanian brothers. That sounded all right and in order to explain it, I ended up in charge of the group of maybe 20, mixed nationalities. To get the parts right, we broke up into smaller groups that would handle the melody, counter melody, harmony, etc.
More drilling, more practicing. With English being foreign, I didn't like the sounds of some words. I figured out to get the metering and pronunciation right, skip the singing and have them chant for a little. This worked to, and then we were singing again.
It was impressive, at least for me standing in front conducting, voices hitting my ears first. A cousin of mine filmed it, but I've never seen the video.
I was winging it. It was all very informal. The hot, sticky summer air of the town didn't help. There were quite a lot of singers in the group way beyond me and if any of them had stood up and wanted to lead, I would have sat down. It was good enough for this group so they rolled with it and the those behind liked it.
Obsessive, drilled repetitions are among my naturally preferred methods for teaching. Get it second nature as fast as possible and then you can play around with the finer aspects.
Despite the mountains of what you don't know and can't do, if you have vision and a willingness to improvise, you can lead and accomplish things.
I would see later, that when something needs to be done, if you know slightly more than the others in the room, you're the expert.
I'm told I'm not the first American in a foreign country to be unable to resist playing with the dogs that come near. I've done it in India too, to great amusement of bystanders. My hands would be black when I was done but worth it.
That night I went to sleep by candlelight under a goat-hair blanket. I was told an earlier storm had knocked out the national power grid. Power would come back, but much of the farm didn't use it. I rather enjoyed the feeling.
In a few days, we would drive to Chisinau, the capital, for the wedding of a daughter of one of the families nearby. All of these people, part of the loose denomination of my then-church, knew my cousin well and I was welcomed with open arms everywhere because of her. They were happy she sent a representative.
My third day, the father and sons I was staying with took me to an afternoon prayer meeting. I remember the hymns and that at least one voice stood out prominently. I was introduced to the young girl who, like many around, spoke a modest amount of English, practiced during my cousin's stay. I noticed a trend here, as in Romania, of a people that liked to talk and would eagerly exhaust every word in their limited foreign vocabulary to do so.
She was going to the wedding too, along with a number of other young relatives. Someone had the idea to do something special for the couple, and particularly to sing a song. I was in. Six of us met for a number of days at another house where I would be staying (I was passed between houses like a gift parcel) which belonged to a couple who seemed far to young to manage their own farm, but that was the norm.
We picked a song, an English, very pretty hymn. Partly in my honor, but largely because English was exotic and in vogue, something out of the ordinary. I taught them the words, the pronunciations, the harmonies. It was acapella in the beginning, though we would add another sister of the bride who had picked up the guitar herself (she proved extraordinary). But the sound was off. They had the time so, afternoons for several days we devoted just to the song. I remember twice singing myself hoarse. One of the girls was nearly tone-deaf, but I noticed if I put her next to the stronger girl, she improved. That worked on a bit who joined later. I ended up moving people around, practicing individually at times. As long as they were happy to stay, I kept pushing. And the sound became wonderful. When we got to the wedding, we added two Ukranians who had come to pick me up from there and take me to Lvov, part of the same church. The short practice was even better.
Unfortunately, the actual wedding song didn't turn out with the same perfection. Something degraded from that last practice, but it was still quite good.
All the time I'd spent part of choirs, this was my first time organizing anything of the sort. They wanted to do something nice and I had some ideas. Everything else came surprisingly naturally.
Poland, 2000
My journey had begun in France, with a stopover in Germany and then a bus ride to Romania, pickup by Moldovans, pickup by Ukrainians, then a collective bus ride of young people to Poland for the choir camp, the church convention which would draw people from all over the world, and then finally the youth seminar.At the convention, I spent some time with two Romanian brothers, Reuben and Daniel. Among many others there, they loved singing. It didn't take much and they harmonized beautifully. I caught them singing going down the stairs to lunch and joined in. We tried a number of hymns, different languages (I'd already figured out that you needn't understand the words to pronounce them). We ended on "Mine eyes can see the Glory (Battle Hymn of the Republic), attempting it in a number of parts. English not being their native language (though they were fluent), one of the brothers missed the chorus and proceeded onto the next verse, while the other and I held the chorus part. And strangely, it worked. Whatever combination of pace and notes, we all heard it work.
After the convention, at the seminar, different groups of youth would get together and sing for the whole. Often it broke out by country (French, German, Polish) or language (the few Americans stuck together with the Canadians and Australians, with other non-English rounding out enthusiastically). An American girl had the idea to put together a larger choir. When we were trying to figure out what to sing, I suggested the version we had stumbled on with the Romanian brothers. That sounded all right and in order to explain it, I ended up in charge of the group of maybe 20, mixed nationalities. To get the parts right, we broke up into smaller groups that would handle the melody, counter melody, harmony, etc.
More drilling, more practicing. With English being foreign, I didn't like the sounds of some words. I figured out to get the metering and pronunciation right, skip the singing and have them chant for a little. This worked to, and then we were singing again.
It was impressive, at least for me standing in front conducting, voices hitting my ears first. A cousin of mine filmed it, but I've never seen the video.
I was winging it. It was all very informal. The hot, sticky summer air of the town didn't help. There were quite a lot of singers in the group way beyond me and if any of them had stood up and wanted to lead, I would have sat down. It was good enough for this group so they rolled with it and the those behind liked it.
I learned:
Despite only modest musical ability, I had picked up a lot of the methods from the choir directors and better musicians I'd been around. I could replicate their methods to a degree and achieve group results. If I see it, I can teach it.Obsessive, drilled repetitions are among my naturally preferred methods for teaching. Get it second nature as fast as possible and then you can play around with the finer aspects.
Despite the mountains of what you don't know and can't do, if you have vision and a willingness to improvise, you can lead and accomplish things.
I would see later, that when something needs to be done, if you know slightly more than the others in the room, you're the expert.
Complaining about what you can't do won't accomplish anything. You can move forward on precious little ability if you're determined and capable people are willing to help you.
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