Dame Joan Sutherland: Grieve, Heart, and Rejoice in Happy Memories

Dame Joan Sutherland
(Credit: Noosa Federation of the Arts) 

Dame Joan has died, and many of us are very sad. Our lives were so enriched - made so beautiful and so much happier - by that glorious sound, and while none of us is surprised about the aging process, true fans keep wanting the inevitable to be put off... and off... and off.

The memories are many, and mine - just another fan's but including several occasions when Dame Joan and I actually interacted with one another - are I suppose no more or less than anyone else's.

Still, it pleases me to think now about Dame Joan and share some of those memories.

They began many years ago, as she was first making her name in America. I'm not sure of all the specifics (I'm relying on my memory here), but my first encounter was when I was at university. Joan Sutherland was travelling about the United States under the sponsorship of her managers and participating in something called the Columbia Artists Series. It was the organization that brought artists to the Grounds of the University of Virginia, and I was a student at Mr. Jefferson's University at the time.

Several young performers gained valuable name recognition with these recitals (I remember Marilyn Horne was another singer who visited us in Charlottesville), and the recitals - held in the University's famous Cabell Hall - were very popular. I don't remember my connection with the Music Department (I was a liberal arts major not a music major) but for some reason some of us were asked to volunteer for particular tasks, like insuring that the route to the dressing rooms were clear, dealing with backstage visitors, and similar little tasks.

And for some reason, after the recital and when the crowd was moving away, I was still in the area with someone from the music faculty (don't remember who it is was) and we were chatting with Miss Sutherland. She expressed an interest in seeing a little more of the Virginia countryside, and as she did not have a train out of Charlottesville until late the next afternoon, she asked if it would be possible to have a drive. As it turned out, the faculty member wasn't available (or perhaps he didn't have an opportunity to offer since I - not being a shy fellow - possibly forged ahead with my offer - I don't remember, thankfully!).

So I volunteered my little Hillman Minx, and we agreed on a time to meet at her hotel. I got there on time, and Miss Sutherland and Mr. Guy had a delightful drive all about Albemarle Country (and beyond). We spoke about everything under the sun, and she made me promise to come to see her whenever she was singing somewhere and I was in the audience (and it was a promise she kept, for whenever I sent a note backstage - even at the Metropolitan Opera - I was admitted to join the group congratulating her on her performance, and she always greeted me warmly). She always remembered me, and even years later, when I would send a newspaper clipping or a birthday card, I always had a nice note back in return.

Not only a great singer, a great lady.

And the performances! I cannot begin to enumerate all of what I heard over the years. It so happened that my time in New York began just as her career was in its very best years, and for more than two decades I got to hear her in so many spectacular performances in New York and even - sometimes - in London and a few other places. Memories - performances - I'll never forget.

On the mantle in my sitting room there is a lovely photograph of her - signed to me - in that voluminous white gown from "La Traviata," to me one of her greatest roles. And across the room is a happy photograph - also signed to me - of her in costume as Marie in "La Fille du Regiment," which the Met mounted just for her and Luciano Pavarotti. One of her greatest successes (not surprisingly, since Joan Sutherland had a rather wild and very delightful sense of humor - she loved to laugh and have fun!).

And far too many other performances to list, but oh, how I loved her in the famous "Lucia," the three heroines of "Les Contes d'Hoffmann," "Norma" (with the great Marilyn Horne - who could ever forget their "Mira O Norma"? - hear them sing it it here in a 1979 recital) and so many more. And after an absence of a few years from the Met, she came back with Alfredo Kraus for a revival of "I Puritani," which was worth the wait. And as my then-wife and I walked across the Lincoln Center Plaza to go into the house, we were approached by a man with a big sign: "$1,000 for a ticket." My wife suggested we sell him our tickets and go off on a great vacation. No way. We were going to hear Joan Sutherland and Alfredo Kraus in "I Puritani." A vacation simply paled by comparison.

Then, toward the end of her singing career, a splendid Sunday-afternoon recital at the Metropolitan Opera House. Two memories: In the first, I knew someone who worked in the house and he happened to be standing next to her as she and Richard Bonynge were speaking before she went on stage. She was having great difficulties with the huge blue hoop skirt of her gown, and she turned to her husband with a great frown on her face and said: "I'm getting too old for this!" He simply smiled and gently pushed her out on to the great Met stage.

And the second memory: Not so nice. Two uninterested older ladies were seated just behind me and my friends. They spoke all through whatever prelude was played to start the recital off (I don't remember what it was) and they continued to speak during the first aria, even when Miss Sutherland was actually singing. As my friends tell it, I kept getting more and more agitated, and my friends were actually looking at me, worried about what I would do. I wasn't aware that they were watching me, but I didn't disappoint them. When the aria ended, during the applause, I jumped up in my seat, turned around, and screamed at the ladies: "If you don't shut up I am going to kill you!" We didn't hear another sound from them (and they didn't return after the intermission!).

OK. Perhaps not a Joan Sutherland story. Or perhaps it is. Perhaps it demonstrates the kind of passion this lady's talent brought out in her fans.

Thank you, dear Dame Joan, for all you gave us. We have been so blessed to have you with us.

Egerton Castle

And now it's time to give some thought to Lord Egerton.

Have been fascinated with expatriate life in Kenya, from the turn of the last century up to (and sometimes including) World War II, I greatly enjoy reading about the personalities involved. And yes, I've read (twice) James Fox's good history of the infamous Happy Valley crowd, White Mischief, and I highly recommend it. The early days of the country's colonial history are pretty gripping, and just about anything you find about what went on in those days, from the commercial exploitation to establishing the government, is well worth reading.

The other favorite book on the subject is Karen Blixen's Out of Africa, and both the book and the film are now classics. Blixen's home outside of Nairobi is good excursion for anyone interested in the expatriate life (or simply interested in how a fine writer lived at one point in her life). It's in a town called "Karen." I've heard both that the town was named in her honor and that it's simply a coincidence that both she and the town share the name,  but I've never checked it out, since how the town got its name really isn't part of the story. (I wrote about my visit to the house here.)

Now I've become intrigued with Lord Maurice Egerton, the elegant gentleman farmer who is generally given credit for bringing agricultural science to Kenya, and for developing agriculture as a business, leading to its role now as the country's primary economic resources. He established a training school ("a farm school") for agricultural science in 1939, and it became the now-famous Egerton University, known internationally for its excellence in the study of agricultural science (and, incidentally, as the site of a knowledge management course integrated into the Agriculture Information and Communication Management  curriculum).

Egerton, 4th and last Baron Egerton of Tatton, was well known as an innovator and, according to one account, "a man of great inventive and technical skill." He was an early aviator, photographer, and filmmaker and in addition to his work in agriculture, Egerton achieved a considerable reputation as an early motorist.

When he came to Kenya to set up his work, he acquired huge land holdings, much of which at his death in 1958 became the grounds of Egerton University. Additionally, though, Lord Egerton build a rather fabulous home on his estate, and my friends and I recently had a splendid visit to "Egerton Castle," as the house is now known.

Used by the university for ceremonial events, the house, now empty, is lovingly cared for by Robert Onyiego, 76, who came to work at the house when it was being built (his parents were working there as well). Onyiego eventually worked his way up to being deputy engineer for the construction of the house, which went on over a period of several years. [Photographs of our visit are here and include snaps of Mr. Guy and Nerisa and Charles and even of Mr. Onyiego himself, who was extremely gracious in leading us about.]

Built for a lady to whom Baron Egerton wished to become engaged, the house is something of an anachronism. As it happened, the lady refused him, not once but twice, and Egerton's heart was broken . He lived the remainder of his life totally without women in his life, even to the point of excluding them from the grounds of the estate. The story is well told by Beatrice Obwocha here in an amusing - and sad - version. It will stretch your imagination and make you wonder about how some of these people came to think the way they did.

My favorite part of the story - not surprising to anyone who knows me (and not much emphasized in the Egerton legend) - is the Baron's great love of music. One great end of the mansion was his music room (the huge room shown in the photographs). The remains of the great organ for which he brought famous musicians to Egerton Caster is still in place, and the story is told that - even when there were guests - Lord Egerton loved to sit in one of the window alcoves with the heavy draperies closed, to listen to the music in his own solitude. It is a spectacular room, and obviously was the setting for great entertainment in Lord Egerton's day.

Quick Announcement: National Geographic on Migrations

For friends and colleagues who were following Mr. Guy's posts about the Great Migration, just had news that the National Geographic network will be showing a series on migrations. [The posts were uploaded August 27 - September 25 - see Archives List to the left.]

Called "Great Migrations: A Global Television Event," the series begins November 7.

The preliminary information indicates that a couple of the programs will have to do with Africa's Great Migration, but I could not confirm the exact dates for those showings.

Might be worth viewing. I certainly intend to watch this, since it connects so closely with what I experienced when I viewed Africa's Great Migration in Masai Mara. People are already asking about how they can view the migration in 2011. The person to ask is my driver, Charles Masese charlesomasese@gmail.com, who will be happy to provide guidance. He arranges all my safari trips, and has been doing so since November, 2009.

World Habitat Day - Sharing Knowledge about Cities and How We Live in Them

In the public arena, knowledge development and knowledge sharing (KD/KS) is often experienced in official observances and celebrations. Most participants are usually not aware that they are engaged in an activity as significant in their lives as KD/KS, but that's fine, too. Knowledge development and knowledge sharing are such a universal human trait, it's not necessary to be always aware when it's happening.

Nevertheless, when there are such events, it's good to take notice of them, for they are an essential element in society. We are  better people (and better informed) when we take part in these activities.

A case in point is World Habitat Day, observed internationally on the first Monday in October is. This year - October 4 - the theme is Better City Better Life.

Designated by the United Nations to call attention to the right of all citizens to safe and secure urban housing, World Habitat Day is sponsored by the United Nations Human Settlements Programme (UN-HABITAT), headquartered in Nairobi, Kenya.

Started in 1978, UN-HABITAT is mandated by the UN General Assembly to promote socially and environmentally sustainable towns and cities, with the goal of providing adequate shelter for all. The programme is a fully fledged programme of the UN system, positioned squarely in the mainstream of the UN’s development agenda for poverty reduction. Through its work (known as the "Habitat Agenda"), UN-HABITAT contributes to the UN's overall objective to reduce poverty and promote sustainable development, with most of the programme budget coming in the form of contributions from multilateral and bilateral partners for technical cooperation (with about 5 per cent from the regular UN budget). Its partners range from governments and local authorities to a wide international cross-section of Non-Governmental Organisations and civil society groups.

Executive Director Designate Joan Clos, the former two-term Mayor of Barcelona and most recently Spain's Ambassador to the Republics of Turkey and Azerbaijan, takes office on October 18. Until then, Deputy Executive Director Inga Björk-Klevby is UN-HABITAT's Officer-in-Charge. In a recent statement, Mrs. Björk-Klevby discusses World Habitat Day:





In her comments, Mrs. Björk-Klevby identifies five steps for society to take if sustainable urbanization is to be realized:

1. Improve quality of life for people living in slums and other sub-standard housing
2. Invest in human capital
3. Foster sustained economic opportunities
4. Enhance political inclusion ("bringing government into the reach of ordinary people")
5. Promote cultural inclusion, noting that culture has in the past been conventionally left out of the international urbanization agenda

Probably one of the best examples of KM/knowledge services in action, World Habitat Day provides an excellent opportunity for strategic knowledge professionals to consider their role in society and, particularly, their role in addressing one of the major global issues of our time.

[Disclosure: UN-HABITAT is a current client, and I am presently working in Nairobi as a consultant in knowledge strategy development for UN-HABITAT.]

The Children of Gachie

I have often remarked about how happy I am in Kenya, and particularly with the happiness that seems so evident among so many of the Kenyans I've come to know.

The situation is especially pleasant when visiting a typical Kenyan neighborhood. On these occasions, one is almost swept away by the beauty - and the joy of the children. There's something about being around the little ones that brings much delight.

Such was the case when I visited Gechie - a village near Nairobi not far from where I live - last Saturday. I went - as I like to do - to have lunch with my driver. Readers of these posts know Charles well by now, and I love to go to his house where he fixes me good African food (and, yes, we eat it the African way, with out fingers - which I love to do!).

As we take Charles's son Justine along with us on some of our safaris and day trips, Justine has become very adept with the camera (readers of these posts will recall some of Justine's good work shared in previous blogs). So while Charles and I were planning to spend part of the afternoon working on the arrangements for our big December safari, I said to Justine and Charles's cousin Steve Onpinta that they should feel welcome to take my camera outdoors and have some fun.

Look at what they did!

Delighted with the results, not only because Steve and Justine obviously exchanged the camera back and forth and got some splendid photographs (see them at Gachie Children). In doing so they captured some real beauty and happiness - as I noted above - that I as an visitor would never have been able to achieve.

I'm very grateful to Justine and Steve for giving me these photographs to share with my readers - these children are our real Kenyan friends (even if one little boy is kind of shy), and we're so fortunate to have them for friends.

Sunday Lunch

When we're able to get together, the Great Four (or Three or Two or however many of us are about) like to have Sunday lunch out.

African restaurants are of great interest to me. The "culture" - you might say - of eating out is a little different in Kenya than in Western countries. For one thing, not as many people do it. I've been told that in America as much as 65% or so of our food expenditures is spent on eating out. That is definitely not the case here, and I would suspect just about anywhere in Africa.

And what we would call "middle class"-type restaurants are very nice and, oddly, often not very crowded (and sometimes - as here - just plain empty). There's another group of restaurants, too, what we would think of as the "high-end" restaurants, catering to the muzungu crowd and the well-to-do, but this kind of place - spotted on the road as we drive along - is more our style.

Despite the name, this one is not a country club at all, in our sense of the phrase. The Small World Country Club (photos at Africa - Sunday Lunch) turned out to be a very pleasant stop on our Machakos sojourn. Good food, pleasant surroundings (very beautiful and well cared-for) plantings, even a rabbit hutch right in the middle of the tables but, alas, no rabbit on the menu.

And as I've discovered, when one travels, connecting with local art forms is sometimes not as simple as it looks. Could not quite make out what was going on with these two pieces of sculpture. Certainly not pretty, not representational, so I don't know. I suppose I could revert to the old tried-and-true "hmmm. very interesting." But worth a photo or two for a reminder later on.

Machakos: Water Runs Uphill and Cars Drift Uphill, Too

"Right!"  "Tell us another one, Guy."  "No way."

I can hear the skepticism.

OK. Got it. But bear with me and I'll tell you about it, even show you some pictures.

Yes, there is a place in Kenya where the water runs uphill, and if you turn the engine off and put the car in neutral, the car will drift along - uphill - as if it were drifting down the hill.

You can experience this phenomenon just outside the town of Machakos, not far from Nairobi (about an hour's drive or so) and it has a reputation. In fact, the whole area has a reputation for connections with magic (some say "witchcraft" but I think they mean magic), so it's not surprising that strange things happen on the roadway at its 45-degree (or so) incline.

I suppose it's pretty well known, because before Charles and Nerisa and I went there, other people had told me about how it's on the news from time to time and in fact, to see the water flow uphill was why Nerisa induced us to go there, as she had never been to Machakos.

And I had found this on a  travel site from an October, 2008 post:: "While in Kenya visit Kituluni Hill in Machakos.... You actually get to see your car moving uphill while in neutral gear. It is even said that cyclists experience ease of cycling once they reach that place, and also if you pour water on the tarmac you get to see it flow upwards!"

Let's go! We were game!

So off we went, driving through some beautiful countryside on the way and even, for goodness sake, spotting a herd of camels grazing in the field as we drove past. I knew there were camels further north in Kenya, but I was surprised to see them in this part of the country. They seemed very contented, and very much at home.

We drove on into Machakos. Not a very interesting place, but has some claim to fame, as a treaty of one sort or another was signed there a couple of decades ago. And when Princess Margaret came to visit in 1956 the town leaders erected what must be one of the ugliest clock towers I've ever seen. Presumably it did not have adverts hung on it when Her Something-or-Other visited, but I would have liked to have seen the look on her face when she was told the tower had been built in recognition of her visit. Poor Margaret!.

But the place did get interesting when we began hearing stories about strange happenings (more of that later), and when we made our way to where the water flows uphill. We asked several people and got a number of different directions, but Charles finally heard one that sounded trustworthy, so we took that person's advice: "about six kilometers on this road," he said, pointing "and when you get to a very sharp curve, you'll see where they are making bricks, and go on a little way and you'll be there."

Yep. There it was. As we climbed the pretty steep hill (as I say, about 45 degrees, as you can see in the photos at  The Machakos Adventure), we saw the curve up ahead, and then we saw the pile of bricks, and we pulled over. Pretty soon a young man came down to speak with us. He and Nerisa and Charles conversed in Kiswahili, and I listened very politely and they interpreted for me (which I appreciated but I felt very foolish later - as we were leaving - when the young man spoke to me and started a delightful conversation in one of the finest Oxbridge accents I've ever heard - I suppose he had been educated in England - or had had English schoolteachers!).

Our young man then got a jug of water and brought us over to watch, and sure enough, as he poured the water gently on the road, it started to drift uphill. Then he got a big jug of water and sloshed it down the pavement, and of course it flowed downhill for a bit, from his pouring it with so much force. But then - wait for it! - the water started to slow down and came to an eventual stop and, yes, starting drifting back up the road.

I am not making this up.

Then our host suggested Charles pull the car out into the road (directing him to the spot) and, yes, put the car in neutral and turn the engine off. This he did, and we all stood by dumbfounded as the car drifted up the road, with Charles running along beside it. Amazing!

Is it magic? Of course not. I presume it is some sort of anti-magnetic field under the road. Or some other scientific explanation (note to scientists reading this post: tell us what's happening!).

But it does happen. I saw it happen. And at the Muthaiga Country Club with friends a few nights later, I told my dinner companions about our experience and learned that there is another place in Kenya, nearer the coast, I think they said, where the same thing happens. In fact, one of the couples I was dining with (my hosts, as a matter of fact) was going there for a holiday the very next week-end. Interesting coincidence.

As for the magic? I don't know what I want to believe, but I heard some strange stories when we were driving about in the Machakos area. One will suffice: apparently there is no theft in the area and indeed people sleep with their doors unlocked. It's a very safe place and no harm every comes to anyone.

Why?

Because if anyone tries to do anything bad to one of the Akamba people, he will regret it.

An example: suppose you go onto a farmer's land and you steal a big bunch of bananas. You're walking across the farmer's land with the bananas slung over your shoulder and he sees you. Due to his powers, he can fix things so you can never - that's NEVER - take the bunch of bananas off your shoulder. Until he permits it, and if he wants to, the farmer can have you carrying the bananas for a long, long time. The Akamba people have these kinds of powers, they say. And there's more, for when the farmer does allow the thief to finally take the bananas off his shoulder, he is doomed, and he will die before too long.

There's another story, too, about the magic powers of an Akamba husband who has been cuckolded and what he can do when he catches the couple, but we'll save that story for another time.