Can any good thing come from Nazareth?
It’d seem premature now for stock-taking, wouldn’t it? After all, it’s only been a little over a month since this trip started and I believe there’s still some road ahead.
Setting out wasn’t all that easy for me in the first place. What, me? Add to the dross that’s out there? Add to the rot and sheer horror?
The answer (if I’ve to tell you) was, well, why not? At least it’ll be my rubbish, my rubbish to afflict you with, and that’s something. At least I’ll be attempting to tell our own story, in our own voice, in a language that’s ours, in an accent that we understand, with a flavour that speaks to who we’re, a story whose every nuance we discern and apprehend no matter how it’s couched.
That explains, to a large extent, the place I’ve given Salia Koroma. I’ve seen a ‘video’ or two of S.E. Rogie’s music floating on the effluent that is Youtube, and God knows the images have nothing to do with the music to which they are tacked. What has a music with sometimes purely carnal love as its subject (that expression means I’m been tactful, not moralistic) to do with images of mutilation? Some lazy, not to say brain-dead, sap out there told themselves: ‘well, why not, for can anything good come from… there?’
So what I’m doing with Salia Koroma is my way of telling our story. But above all, it’s my way of thinking through what engages me in Salia’s work. It’s my attempt to crystallise, systematise, and articulate, for myself, as best as I can, something that I love. That way I can move beyond the tautological fascination that people tend to have with what engages their heart.