The New York Times
November 22, 2003
Helping Soweto Youths Make the Music of Their Lives
By Otto Pohl
SOWETO, South Africa — Although the immediacy has dulled after
10 years of working in this South
African township, there are little moments when Rosemary Nalden is reminded
of the desperation around
her.
"I saw a student of mine eating a lemon I had picked earlier in
my garden," she recalled in a recent
interview. "I said, 'Why are you doing that?' 'Because I'm hungry,'
he said."
She paused. "You forget."
Ms. Nalden, a 59-year-old transplanted musician from Britain, has had
enormous success providing
opportunity in her adopted home, but those around her still learn the
hard lessons of life in Soweto.
When the world gives you lemons, eat them.
Ms. Nalden founded and directs the Buskaid Soweto String Project, an
ensemble of string players made
up exclusively of young men and women from the township. Although few
of them played an instrument>
before they joined, Ms. Nalden has built and trained the group to where
they now play sold-out
concerts in South Africa and around the world.
They have played for the former president, Nelson Mandela, and the queen
of England. They have
released a series of CD's, played under the direction of the renowned
conductor Sir John Eliot
Gardiner, and received the support of Gillian Anderson, a star of the
television show "The X-Files."
The talent and lively style of the String Project have made it a growing
musical force in Soweto,
still one of South Africa's most impoverished and perilous places, and
it is winning Ms. Nalden
accolades worldwide.
For its members, however, the String Project is about much more than
music. It is a place where they
learn, often for the first time, about responsibility, teamwork and money.
"We are equipping them for something much greater than playing a
stringed instrument," Ms. Nalden
said, standing outside her one-story brick school as the sounds of violin
practice rose above the
street noise.
"The project changes them, focuses them," she said. "We
keep them so damn busy that when they make
that choice they have to deny the other side of life. There's no time
to go out and do drugs."
Ms. Nalden's involvement began when she heard a report on the BBC 10
years ago about a small string
school in Soweto that was going through hard times. A violist in London
at the time, Ms. Nalden
rallied her friends to raise money for the school by playing for money
in London's railway stations.
One hundred and twenty of her friends joined in, and in two hours their
busking raised more than
$6,000.
She thought she would just deliver the money to the school and then forget
about it. But when she
arrived, she realized how much there was to do. The school was being mismanaged,
so she founded a new
group in a room at a township church.
After a few years of commuting between London and Soweto, she quit her
orchestra career in London and
moved to South Africa full time. The String Project was officially started
in 1997.
"After years of sitting in a viola section, there was something
in me that needed to be the boss," Ms.
Nalden said.
It began with 15 students. Now there are more than 80. "They kept
turning up, and I kept not being
able to say no," Ms. Nalden said. She has had to learn, however.
Close to 2,000 students have
applied, and her school is at capacity, its three teachers and seven student-teachers
already doing
all they can do.
For the students that are accepted, most of them ages 9 to 23, Ms. Nalden's
school has become a
lifeline in an often senseless world. For Ms. Nalden, the line between
teacher and aid worker is
often blurred.
"I get too involved, but I can't help it," she said, her voice
excited and impassioned. "I don't see
how you can run a project like this and not get involved. People say I'm
too soft. I'm not, really,
I'm quite hard. But I want to know the context. I know that one girl was
raped by her uncle. She
told me that on her first day."
In an effort to be matter-of-fact, she added, "She's 12."
Three parents of students have been murdered, a student has been stabbed
on his way home from school,
and another saw his friend shot to death on the school playground.
In 1999, private donations and corporate support allowed her to build
her own school on the grounds of
a church. Within the white walls is a well-lighted universe where students
can escape into the world
of classical music.
In many ways, Ms. Nalden's life parallels that of her father, who in
the 1960's founded the first
practicing conservatory in New Zealand, where he moved the family from
Britain.
Still, this is rebellion. He wanted her to become an academic.
"I think I'm doing this because he didn't want me to do this,"
she said. "But what I inherited was a
terrierlike obstinacy."
As obstinate as she has been to overcome the bureaucratic, social and
financial hurdles of working in
the township, Ms. Nalden turns motherly and soft in the practice room.
She listens with dedication
and fusses with concern when the children play a new piece.
The sense of mothering is not accidental.
"I never had children," said Ms. Nalden, who never married.
"I think that this is part of what this
is about." She without children has come to those without childhood.
Many of the students have flourished under her tutelage, and two have
already gone on to study abroad.
The Buskaid Trust has taken a lead role in financing their studies. Buskaid,
in turn, is supported by
a wide variety of South African organizations, including the Nelson Mandela
Children's Fund, the
National Lottery Development Fund and Standard Bank.
Absorbed in the school, Ms. Nalden sometimes misses out on popular culture.
Two years ago, she
received a telephone call from an actress named Gillian Anderson.
"I thought, God, an actress! That's pretty useless as far as money
is concerned," Ms. Nalden
recalled. But when her colleagues explained who Ms. Anderson was, she
developed the contact and the
actress offered to support the string ensemble on their first American
tour, to Los Angeles and New
York. They have since returned to the United States, and played at a festival
in New Haven in June.
Although their tours have led them to such countries as France, Holland
and New Zealand, Ms. Nalden is
dedicated to developing the local music scene.
"I think the future is townships," she said. "There is
a huge warmth to this community and a great
sense of optimism."
But the problems of that community sometimes overwhelm her on the drive
home to nearby Johannesburg
after a long day.
"We have this little haven where we worry about our upbows and our
downbows," she said. "And out
there, it's life and death."
She waved across the seemingly endless expanse of the township, blanketed
under a pall of yellow dust.
The sun was setting over the local hospital, an ambulance pulling in.
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