Born to sing: Fiji's "singing culture" and implications for music education in Canada

McGill Journal of Education, Fall 2001 by Joan Russell

ABSTRACT. The first part of this paper describes the singing practices of selected Fijian communities, and identifies some of the social conditions that support widespread and skillful singing. Next, in order to interpret Fijian musical practices, it proposes a cultural grammar - a set of guidelines or rules that define what individuals within a society, community, or group have to know, produce, predict, interpret or evaluate within a given setting or social group in order to participate appropriately (Heath, 1982; Heath, 1983). In the second part of the paper the proposed cultural grammar is used to generate suggestions for developing a singing culture in a Canadian school.

NE POUR CHANTER: LA "CULTURE DU CHANT" A FIDJI ET LES IMPLICATIONS POUR L'ENSEIGNEMENT DE LA MUSIQUE AU CANADA

RESUME. La premiere partie de ce rapport decrit la pratique du chant de certaines communautes fidjiennes tout en mettant en evidence quelques unes des conditions sociales contribuant a repandre l'art du chant. Pour interpreter les pratiques musicales fidjiennes, l'auteur propose une grammaire culturelle, a savoir un ensemble de directives ou de regles definissant ce que les sujets d'une societY, d'une collectivite ou d'un groupe doivent connaitre, produire, prevoir, interpreter ou evaluer dans un milieu ou un groupe social donne pour y participer pleinement. (Heath, 1982; Heath, 1983). Dans la deuxieme partie de ce rapport, la grammaire culturelle proposee Bert a emettre des conseils en vue de l'elaboration d'une culture du chant dans une ecole canadienne.

Scene One: On a hot Sunday morning in Namake, a village not far from Nadi, the small Methodist church is packed. Friendly people guide me to a seat near the front. As the choir and congregation sing the opening hymn in Fijian, I recognize the hymn, a well known tune from the vast repertoire in the Protestant, Christian tradition, and I realize that I am witnessing something special. The skill and conviction with which the congregation sings are remarkable. The richness of the sound makes me think that I am hearing an organ. I glance around surreptitiously, looking for the organ, but there is none. All around me, people are singing - sopranos, altos, tenors and basses. Each voice has a place in the harmony. Especially notable is the power of the male voices, providing the bass notes of the chords. The rich harmonics reverberating off the church walls account for my impression that I am hearing an organ. I join in the singing and immediately find a "place" for my voice. I am an insider in a familiar culture and an outsider in an unfamiliar culture (Bresler, 2001). Fijian language, ethnicity and social structures, such as views on land ownership and commercial and political practices, are unfamiliar to me. What is familiar, however, is the musical experience itself: the order of service, the hymn tunes, the nature and intensity of feeling that come from singing in harmony with men and women, with no instruments to obscure our voices. On this, my first visit to Fiji, I have not set out to investigate Fijian singing practices. I have come as a visitor and, as Geertz (1995) might say, the project finds me.

Scene Two: Darkness falls quickly and early at the equator, regardless of the month. In villages along the Korolevu coast of Viti Levu, there is little in the way of commercial entertainment, electric light is dim and the long evenings offer villagers opportunities for indoor social activities. On this, my second visit to Fiji, it is a quarter to eight on a Thursday evening, and I am crossing the darkened field between my hotel and the little village of Vatualalai. I am going to choir practice. In the receiving room at the home of one of the villagers, some choir members have already arrived, others will drift in later. We sit on the floor, a large space, devoid of furniture, but furnished with soft mats. A standard feature of Fijian house design, the receiving room is an ideal space for gatherings. We chat as we wait for the choir leader to arrive. This rehearsal is particularly important: in villages and towns all over the Fiji Islands choirs are getting ready for the big choral festival to be held a few weeks hence, in Suva. We are going to rehearse an anthem that has changes of key, tempo and metre. Although I will not be in Fiji for the festival, I am anxious to immerse myself once again in Fijian singing.

As I chat with a choir member, I tell him that as a music educator I am interested in helping my student teachers to sing with greater confidence, to believe that they can teach their students to sing. I explain that many of my students are embarrassed to sing, that they claim that they can't sing, a phenomenon that I know is due not to lack of ability but to lack of experience. I mention Fijians' ability to sing, and to sing well. I note that singing appears to be a widespread activity, practiced by many. I tell him that the power of Fijian voices singing in harmony has moved me to return to his island just to experience Fijian singing once again. I ask him for an explanation. His reply, "We were born to sing!" resonates with my own belief, which comes from my experience as a child in a singing family.