A story about Gwoka

I often check out the local experiences available through Airbnb, because they offer some wonderful inside information and activities that we wouldn't normally have access to as tourists. We've previously done a paella-cooking workshop in someone's backyard in Barcelona, where we got to discuss politics with our host during a time where there was a strong Catalan uprising and election during our stay, as well as an evening of Flamenco with one of the dancers, who then took us to a local bar where the dancers hang out after their shows, and we talked about daily life and food. I lucked out this time, finding an night of initiation in Gwoka, taking place on a local beach, and then finishing at a bar where people gather in the evenings to jam together. Of course I booked right away.

First challenge is to find the place - the directions indication the Plage des Raisins Clairs, near Saint-Francois. Turns out, the beach is LONG. And there are a lot of carbets. We don't really know where the meet-up point is. We stop in a parking lot, under a street light, and wait for someone to flag us down. We watch every car that turns into the lot, but none come our way. Next, we investigate a nearby section of restaurants off the beach, hoping maybe one of them has a groups of musicians jamming, and we are just in the wrong place. Finally, we opt to exit the lot, and drive to the other side of the beach, near the cemetery. It doesn't seem likely, but sure enough, we spot a carbet with lights, and several people gathered around some drums, and someone waves in our direction as we pull up. We join our host, Claude, who greets us like old friends, as well as the three other people in our group tonight, Anais and Zoe who are travelling together and just arrived last night, and Mathilde, a dark horse of sorts who does not divulge too much about her travels. Claude offers us snacks:  some plantain chips and Gwosey Peyi juice, this time infused with ginger, the gets down to business teaching us about Gwoka.

Claude is not a musician, nor is he a teacher. He is a lover of music, an aficionado of the history of Gwoka, a world traveller, and someone who has worked both in tourism, and as a recreational therapist in hospitals. He loves the music and wishes to share his passion for its root and history with travellers who are interested in knowing more about the culture of Gwoka, and have a better appreciation for the spirit of the music they are listening to.

Claude teaches us the very basics: the instruments that create Gwoka music, the seven basic rhythms at the base of all Gwoka music, the spirit in which the music is played, and in what circumstances you would play Gwoka. It is so much more that just notes. It is celebration, it is death, it is sadness, it is harvesting of sugar cane, or call to acts of rebellion, or simply played at the end of a long work week, to celebrate getting paid. And in a culture that was once enslaved, that in itself is a big thing.

He then explains to us the instruments. Two Boula drums, made of old rhum casks, of course, provide the base rhythm, and have to be played in perfect synchronisation with each other. At the centre, the Markeur, or Maké, drum, plays the more complex melody, accompanied by often impressive and completely improvised solos. Often, the Maké bases his solos on the moves of a single dancer who joins the group, in a sort of musical conversation - each move elicits a beat, and vice-versa. The Chacha, a cleared-out calebasse filled with dried seeds, and Ti'bwa, sticks to hit together, add more rhythm and percussion. Sometimes there is even music played on a conch horn, or an empty bottle, and usually singing. Once we understand the make-up of the bad, we learn some basic beats, and get to try all of the instruments, because you can only really appreciate the complexity of the music when you've had a chance to play it yourself. The Chacha proves the most difficult for some, as you have to realize that it's not a shake so much as a back-and-forth motion that makes the sound.

We help Claude pack up all the instruments and head over to Saint-Francois, to the Filet du du Pêcheur bar next to the Marina. For the past 20, 30, maybe 40 years, there has been a Léwoz - a Gwoka jam night - held here. We grab a drink and head outside where the musicians are already beating away on their drums, and join the onlookers in the street. There are some tourists, but most are locals here to enjoy the night, all with a glass of Ti'Punch in their hand. We watch the musicians play off of each other, often times rotating through the instruments when one of the other gets up to take a break. Our host, Claude, even gets roped into playing one of the Boula drums, and we cheer when we see him show all the techniques he had just taught us about. A woman in a gorgeous red skirt and matching headscarf gets up and begins to dance with the rhythm of the Maké. For every move, every giration of her hips, or shoulders, or flick of her wrist or even her skirt, the Maké responds with the beats of his drums, and now we can see and understand all of this happening, thanks to Claude. Other dancers tap in, one by one, and the Maké follows each of their movements with his rhythm. It's fascinating, and like a foreign language, something we now understand, thanks to our initiation, and Claude's fantastic explanations. It is a wonderful evening, and a great way to continue our learning about the culture in this beautiful place we love so much.