Ugandan link

My African drumming has taken me to many places over the last few years, and last weekend it took me to Deptford Green School in New Cross. The school, currently a poorly maintained 70s building, played host to a project which was both inspiring and unique. For the last nine years, the secondary school has run an international exchange programme with a school based in the capital city of Uganda, Kampala. Students from the St Kizito School in Uganda come to London every other year, with students from Deptford Green visiting Uganda in the intervening years. This year, the visit of the Ugandans had an added incentive, due to the Olympic Games being held in London, and the project was titled the International Olympic Youth Conference. My role was simple; to organise the drumming section of the music group, comprised of both Ugandans and Londoners, who would perform on the final day of the conference.

When among Westerners not intrigued by African culture, I stand out due to my dedication to playing African drums and my desire to study Africa at university. However, when confronted with the Ugandans, I felt like another English kid whose technical drumming ability was no match for their instinctive and natural rhythm. Richard Dowden wrote in his book Africa that he "was yet to find an African community - or an African - which does not celebrate with music" and the Ugandan group I was privileged enough to meet were no exception. My formulaic Western rhythms were soon replaced by polyrhythmic Ugandan beats and I could not have been happier. One of the Ugandan drums had a small hole in the skin, which was dismissed ironically by one of the East-Africans as a "factory error". Their drums produced a rich, deep bass tone which complemented the sharper, powerful sound of my Ghanaian djembe.

My own pre-conceptions of the school, I’m sorry to admit, were not brilliant. But I was impressed by the willingness of the Deptford Green students to come into school in the middle of their summer holidays to contribute to the workshop. This sense of community in an inner-city comprehensive is not necessarily the norm, and Deptford Green has arguably managed to harness this enthusiasm in young people through their “we’re all in it together” approach. Located in New Cross, a relatively deprived area of London, the school does not immediately have a reputation for success. But perhaps it’s because Deptford Green does not inhabit an expensive new building, and does not have an amazing reputation, that the students are so behind the school: they are eager to work together with each other, and adults, to improve it.

There were many comparisons between the Deptford Green-St Kizito link and the relationship between my old school, The Charter School, and their link school in Ghana. Both London schools boast that they have maintained their African partner school for almost ten years, whereas other schools only manage to keep the communication up for three or four. I left Charter last year, and when I started the school was only five years old. Similarly to Deptford Green, it had a “we’re all in it together” approach because it was a new school, attempting to establish itself. However, recently I’ve heard it said that Charter has lost some of its togetherness and underdog mentality due to its desire to be branded as ‘outstanding’ by the Office of Standards in Education. Deptford Green is soon to move into a flash new building, 100 metres down the road. This begs the question; will Deptford Green maintain its natural grit and determination once it’s moved onto their brand spanking new site?

As well as our music performance there was some poetry reading, a native Ugandan song which included traditional dress, and some speeches from important people, such as the head teacher of Deptford Green and the Deputy Major of Lewisham. The Deputy Major emphasised the importance of such international union, and made a claim to support the project, whilst making it clear he could not promise any extra funding! Eventually the presentation closed, in true Olympic spirit, with gold medals being handed out to those young people who had made contributions to the conference. I was genuinely surprised when my name was read out and then followed by the words "highly gifted musician", but I collected my medal nonetheless and was slightly disappointed as I walked away from the school knowing that my role in that particular project was over, or is it?

My Olympic day out

The second day of the Olympics in London, the 29th of July, and rather than watching on TV from home as Team GB attempt to surpass their 47 medals in Beijing, I jumped on a train to the Olympic Park. An hour and a half later, and having passed through stations that were not on my journey plan, I arrived at West Ham, rather than my intended destination of Stratford. Nevertheless, as I left the station I was greeted by purple-clad volunteers all waving 'London 2012' foam fingers at me, which somewhat blocked my view of the impressive stadium looming before me.

Before long I had found an illustriousness foam finger myself, one which had been discarded and cast to the wet ground, neglected by one of the 'have-a-nice-day' volunteers. I carefully placed the item in my bag, sandwiched between my copy of the Metro and the Daily Telegraph (which came free with my chocolate bar.) There it quickly dried and was shortly being waved around contently as Tunisia took on Sweden in an enthralling handball match. One friend dismissed handball due to the fact that it was "just a foul in football" but any man or woman who fails to acknowledge the athleticism and skill involved in handball merely acknowledges their own naivety. Eventually Sweden triumphed, as did Spain in the next match against Serbia. Serbia had the muscular advantage but were outdone by quintessential Spanish bravado and skill. Next stop: McDonald's.

A rumoured  £50 million was forked out by the American burger giants to be the sole restaurant sponsor of the 2012 games, a deal which seemed justified as the queue for what is apparently the biggest McDonald's in Europe was the longest I encountered all day. After my meal (which unfortunately didn't include a mayo chicken because the biggest McDonald's in Europe didn't provide a full menu) I was off again, this time in search of some good quality basketball. Team GB vs. Russia unfortunately didn't comply. Even our own NBA All-Star Luol Deng was not much more than a spectator as Russia (ranked 11th in the world) slowly and painfully dismantled a GB team ranked 47rd. This put me in a bad mood, why did Team GB seem to be losing all the time?

However my mood was lifted somewhat when the Basketball arena became drenched in light blue and green as the national teams from Argentina and Lithuania bounced onto the court. Perhaps surprisingly, both these teams are ranked in the top five in the world, but their quality was evident as a fiercely contested game ended leaving Argentina with more points, and many Lithuanians despondent.

Yes, the sport was great. The spectacle of having people who can run faster, jump higher and be stronger than possibly anyone else in the world in one place is wonderful. But it was as I left the Basketball arena shortly after midnight and walked back towards the station that my love for the Olympic Park was most deeply felt. The stadiums, both temporary and permanent, were impressively lit up, exhibiting some wondeful architecture. Protruding from the aquatic centre was a giant, graceful sweep resembling a whales fin, and the stunning circular velodrome reflected the geometry of cycling. Another thing that struck me was the fact that it's easy to imagine the Olympic Park becoming just that after these games; a park! The venues are fabulously and thoughtfully laid out, allowing them to be both impressive yet not overpowering. Also the size of the park means that congestion was not an issue.

Having visited the Olympic Park once, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't very keen to go again. But now I know that if I cannot, and Paralympic  tickets sell out faster than expected, I'll be able to jump on a train to Stratford and wander through the park after these games, thereby enjoying the London 2012 legacy for many years to come.