Nuwa Wamala Nnyanzi’s Experience at CMA Fest 2011, in Nashville, Tennessee, USA

Uganda Mon 20-06-2011

Nuwa Wamala Nnyanzi’s Experience at CMA Fest 2011, in Nashville, Tennessee, USA
By Nuwa Wamala Nnyanzi

Its June 9th, 2011 the first day of the Country Music Awards (CMA) Festival in Nashville, Tennessee, USA. It is 0900hrs and the queue is getting longer and longer on 1st Street and Broadway, downtown Nashville. Top notch country music stars are scheduled to perform in a four day do, climaxing on Sunday June 12th.

The 2011 CMA Fest

The 2011 CMA Fest, Nashville, Tennessee, USA

I join the queue at 0915hrs and make conversation with a group of people around. Most of them are from out of state such as Nebraska, Arizona, Michigan, Louisiana, and of course yours truly from Uganda, the land of friendly people or Africa as they routinely say here in the US. To them Africa is one big country like the US.

My friend Frank Dobson, a professor at the prestigious Vanderbilt University and an author of substance, gets irritated when his fellow African Americans refer to Africa as a country, yet they are proud to call themselves African Americans. According to him if they cannot get it they should just drop the African bit of it. Period.

Back to CMA Fest, a blonde middle-aged woman hands me a card bearing images of two young pretty blondes. I slide it into my pocket. As I chat away with a couple from Nebraska, they inform me that they are here to watch their son’s girlfriend perform with her sister.That is when it strikes me that the card stuck in pocket bears images of the sisters they are talking about. I get interested and ask for more information.

The bombshell drops. The blonde who was dishing out cards is actually the stars’ mother and another beautiful blonde young lady next to her is their elder sister. The three sisters resemble each other so closely that I ask if they are triplets..

I immediately take out my Sony Camcorder and ask for an interview, which is readily granted.

At 0945hrs, finally the queue starts moving and everyone is excited. As we approach the entrance, a policeman asks me to open my backpack to make sure there is nothing to provoke the ‘breaking news’ liner. As we are about to enter, the blonde sisters are introduced on the loudspeaker by a woman emcee. They sing out the US national anthem so heartily, it makes me wonder why at our functions in Uganda it is not the Kawalyas, Babiryes or Kanyomozis who are charged to do that.

Next, I have to secure a vantage point from which to witness history in the making. I squeeze myself between an elderly couple and a mother and her daughter. Initially I feel that I am intruding but I realize that this is the US and one needs to claim one’s right. Just a few years back this would have earned me either a jail term or lynching. Mind you this is Tennessee. Deep South.

I have learned to make myself confortable even in the most unlikely situations. The elderly couple on my left pretend to create a bit of room for me but the young lady on my right won't budge. Things dramatically change when Gary Allen hits the stage and causes some involuntary movement from the young lady. It somehow creates elbow space for all of us to enjoy the show.

Clad in a black T-shirt and blue denim jeans, accompanied by a professional band with decent sound system, the party begins under the scorching American Southern summer sun.

As I endeavor to record the events, a young lady in the front row decides to hold up a green placard. Very irritating indeed but what can one do in such circumstances? The only people I believe who would appreciate such an act are those watching on TV in the comfort of their homes. Next time I see a placard raised on TV, I will remember to empathise with those in the audience.

Gary’s perfomance is remarkable. He has a velvety voice and sure knows how to caress a guitar. He strums over six numbers and at the end he earns a deserved applause from the audience.

The emcee clad in a black top and white pants comes on stage to announce a string of performers to follow, before reminding us that Gary Allen looks cool when he sweats. The response from the audience is as you have guessed.

I am making these notes under a hot sun while dripping with sweat. Do I look cool? I doubt it, but am certainly wet. Unless my neighbors share the emcee’s taste. The elderly neighbor offers his sprinkler fun before he retires under the platform of the deck for the VIP covered shed.

An upcoming artiste appears on stage and mixes with the crowd in the front row as he continues to do his thing. The front of his T-shirt bears words: ‘Muzzled-Lab’. His keyboard player works the crowd. The Hawaiian guitarist, too, does not disappoint.

“It is good to be home” he announces as he reaches for his box guitar. Clearly he is a Nashvillian who has just been to the studio working on a new number soon to be released. He unleashes the number and it is hot, reminding me of a song in the 80s with lyrics: "If you really love me… don’t you think I am sexy?”

He has a good voice and has a promising career, because he knows how to make the audience sing and swing along with him. By the way I have just been informed that last year on the first day 600 people visited the Red Cross tent.

My cousin Arthur calls and offers to take me to lunch. I am supposed to be fasting but after losing so much fluid through sweating I decide to accept. I do not mind visiting the Red Cross tent as a tourist but not as a client.

The young woman on the right has now moved in front of me and is dancing with all the emotion and motion she can muster. In the process she reveals a tattoo on her lower back, kissing birds on her right shoulder. Did I mention a rose on her right leg? How about a butterfly on her left wrist? Artistically put, she is a walking canvas.

Each person in the crowd is wearing an average of a meter of cloth. Only a couple of policemen and I are in trousers. I intended to spend most of the day in the library researching for my book and reviewing the Kyambogo University-proposed Bachelor of Vocational Studies in Art & Design with Education. The library can be very chilly especially in summer because of air conditioning.

It is 1128 hrs and Cory has bowed out to a standing ovation. Most people are carrying handheld fans and the emcee is encouraging people to drink as much water as possible. But it looks like their idea of quenching thirst has water at the bottom of the list. Beer is on top followed by soda, juice and then water.

The perfomance is on the river stage on the bank of a river. Across is the LP field, a modern football stadium, and on the right is a beautiful bridge. It is 1335 hours and I am back from lunch with Arthur and David. It was David’s idea of welcoming me to Nashville. I had a chicken burger, French fries and two medium glasses of Coke in a nice airconditioned restaurant. No wonder some North Americans put on excessive weight.

The artist on stage is singing seranading numbers. No wonder he was given a lunch time slot.

Hats and fans are on high demand though I have not bought one yet. Those who know the state of my head must be wondering how I am managing the sun without headgear. Right now I have decided to stand under a tree.

I spot a kiosk with a wide range of cowboy hats and baseball caps and I check how much they are. They range between $10 and $30. Have I mentioned that I am the only black person among over 8,000 people except for the policeman at the entrance? I now know how Bazungu feel when they go to Kadongo Kamu concerts in Mityana or Masaka.

1407 hrs. Rock’n Road-Guitars, Cars and Stars are the buzz words. Nothing has been going on for the last 20 minutes. Is this Kampala or Nairobi? Commercial after commercial. They are now irritating. This reminds me of a fitness instructor on one of the TV stations in Kampala who advises her audience to exercise during the break. I wonder if she is aware that advertisements fund the airing of her program.

14:12. Finally the stage comes alive as two artistes appear. Dressed in multi-colored sleeveless mini dress with a wide belt, the blonde artiste matches well with her counterpart, who is draped in tight-fitting white shirt, buttons undone to reveal a grey T-shirt.

He is an accomplished guitarist and singer. Their voices merge and emerge as they sing together so well that none submerges the other. Sporting an artificial flower at the back of her head, she has a commanding stage presence. Her voice, eyes, hands, waist and legs move in a well coordinated manner.

He is now doing magic with his electric guitar, uncharacteristic of country music artistes who use box guitars. Quite typical of Americans’ desire for comfort, lawn chairs abound. These are short legged with a back rest made of fabric and aluminium frame. A mini version of poolside reclining seats.

This reminds me of one of Kabaka Mutebi 11’s birthday celebrations at Nile Hotel in Kampala, when the crowd was almost becoming unruly because organizers had in their wisdom placed a few chairs for the so-called VIPs (who could not fit in the royal tent) in the center of the field facing the stage. People behind them were expected to stand throughout a 3 hour concert, where the famous Afrigo Band was to play. It would have been more practical to get everyone to sit down so that there was no need for straining one’s neck to get a better view.

The river bank is terraced and user friendly to concert goers.The duet ended their act to a standing ovation.

Then the emcee drops a bombshell. One of the anticipated artistes is not going to show up because he did not make his flight. But James Ardow from Washington State is in town. He hits the stage backed by a band dominated by the brathas, unlike the earlier ones.

James Ardow comes from a 3 generation military family including himself, and recorded a song with Jimmy Johnson, which achieved song of the year status. He is followed by another artiste who lures the audience into doing an acapella with his song as he switches instruments. And the audience does not disappoint.

By 16:40 the audience is beginning to shrink. Many revellers are heading to their hotels to prepare for dinner and thereafter a hectic night aka honkie tonkin, or bar-hopping. In terms of attire for male musicians, tight-fitting shirts or slim-fits as they were known in the late 60s seem to have replaced T-shirts. Dark shades remain a common feature though.

The performer after Ardow too has a good voice, but unlike musicians who before him he is not playing a guitar. As he sings I feel that he would do well with R&B. Common among all perfomers of the day is the mentioning of Facebook and Twitter addresses. But this one has gone a little further. He has the audacity to brag that he knows a 47 year old on Facebook, lol.

I wonder what he means, because I am on the other side of fifty and I have been on Facebook for some time. It is ‘ignorance punctuated with pride’. I wonder how many over 47s he just put off today.

Forget the PR goof. His talent is abundant and he soon confirms my suspicion of his ability to do soul by belting out: “we gonna have a good time… keep on rolling…” which would have made James Brown (RIP) really proud..

The concert ends at 16:30 and as I move out to go and catch a ride with Arthur I see tempting bottles of water in coolers full of ice and a young boy in charge holding a sign that reads: “Free Water with one dollar donation”. Well, that is the US for you. The color that is embraced by all that is green. That is the color of the dollar, not Mao’s or Lubega’s and who else’s DP in my beloved country Uganda, the land of friendly people. Tear gas notwithstanding.

Posted By: Allan Kapten

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