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Some years ago, I was an intrepid tourist visiting Indonesia (Bali) for the first time, retracing the steps of hippies from the 70's who sought to discovere paradise. Bali was a land of sun and surfing , tolerance and acceptance. Some things in the city hadn't changed, but experience told me there was more to see. On a rented motorbike, I explored the less travelled road far inland from the colourful crowds. Stopping my motorbike bike along a dusty roadside, a young man approached. He invited me to visit with him and his family in the compound they called home. I accepted the invitation and was welcomed with enthusiasm. I was treated to a bottle of Coca Cola, a luxury I could not refuse, but a reminder, these people were not living in the past. They were off the grid by misfortune. I watched as women washed clothes on the side of the road.
The young fellows parents were poor rice pickers living in less than ideal circumstances, not advertised on any travel broshure. Sitting uncomfortably, I gazed through the holes in the roof of the compound as the sky drifted by. The young man interpreted the words of my broken english to those all around, as though some importance was attached to my visit. The fact is, I wasn't important. I was only a weary , but wealthier traveller than others on this dusty road. In my mind, these poor folks shared the same poverty as millions of others, in world gone mad in circumstances similar or worse than here. All of which had nothing to do with me. I had simply taken the proverbial "road less travelled", it is not every day, I choose right instead of a left, but as darkness neared, I looked forward to the path that would take me out of here. My return to the comforts of city life and poolside hotel was a sharp contrast to surroundings I found my self in there. As twilight fell and the stars appeared through the holes in the roof of this shanty, the boy's father appeared with appeared- a homemade bamboo Zylophone. The Silence quickly fell away in that desolate room as the poor man played. I was entranced by the beautiful music he played. It revealed as rich a man as any I have ever known. Indeed , there was magic here and I had a glimpse of the only paradise these poor pickers could escape to. Music. Upon my return to Paris, I quickly dispatched gifts in gratitude for that unforgetable experience. I never knew if the gifts arrived or not- on that "road less travelled".
Some time later I had a similar experience on my travels to Kenya. Returning from Safari to my hotel near Mombassa’s beach. I was soon drawn outdoors by the sun and the beauty of the sea. An untanned pasty fleshed white guy walking on a sandy beach in Kenya was about as inconspicuous as an elepant in a bird bath. For local lads, tourists are the catch of the day. Within moments I was sold scuba diving charters and guided tours.. Chamba, a young rastaman and Bob Marley look-a-like..was less interested in the job of guiding than he was in describing his real talent and goal in life. He had an old guitar and a dream. That was a familiar story. Millions of people share the dream of realizing their potential. Few succeed without some kind of support.‘Let’s make a cd’ I suggested spontaneously and Chamba looked at me with wide shining eyes. ‘Ahh…whah..a real CD??’ ‘Yeah! What about this? Tomorrow you and I will write the lyrics of a song in English and you’ll translate it into Swahili. I will take my video camera with me to register you when you’ll rap or sing the song. Then I’ll mix the stuff in Paris and I’ll send you the final results as ready to sell CD’s’. What do you think?’ And so we did. We wrote a rather political song inspired by Chamba’s stories about the corrupt government. I recorded his performance on the beach, -took the recording with me to Paris. Put the sound through a studio program, mixing a backline in with a concert of 40000 fans dubbed in, and voila! Chamba has something more to focus on than the snorkel tours. He could sell copies of his music. Chamba was the star. I sent him 10 CD’s with designed jacket. I included a usb-stick with all the digital materials to be able to make new copies. It was great to help him out, good fun to make the CD, but, there was something to be realized from these two encounters. I decided to create something much bigger : a concept based "Musicians of the World". ‘Planet Music’ has to become a social network where music lovers and musicians will meet and enjoy playing and listening to music. Where musicians can put themselves on the world map and will have the opportunity to post and sell their music to create some extra income for themselves and their families. Where music lovers can discover the music of the world in their own language. This is an opportunity for Where foundations, working in what is no longer -far away countries. Planet Music- can connect the social needs of those -isolated to a global network. Local talents in far away places don't have to be annonymous but heard around the world. The concept also involves music albums to help fund ground level projects and many other things. My chance encounter of 2 talented people and benefiting from their "paradise", suggests that a much larger source exists out there in a world that has become -less tolerant and acceptive. Poverty is not exclusive in the new world of "good and evil". I want to invite you all to join. http://planet-music.ning.com ThePlanet-Music. Music makes a better world.
vr gr Erik