Sona Jobarteh interview: “It’s either education or your culture, and that was a big problem for me”

To what extent do you embrace your inheritance and to what extent do you carry it forward? This is the question that has guided Gambian kora player Sona Jobarteh down the path she has taken over the past decade of her career. Now, ten years after the release of her first album, we sit down to discuss that journey so far and to take a peek at where she’s headed next.

Sona is a musician by heritage, born into the renowned West African griot tradition. Those already familiar with griot custom may know that traditionally it is the women who sing and the men who play the instruments. But, feeling most comfortable as an instrumentalist, and not one to stand by and let traditions become stagnant, Sona decided to dedicate herself to the griot repertoire through the kora (the preferred instrument in the Gambia), as her father and grandfather had done before her. It is an instrument normally reserved for men, and overnight she became ‘the first female kora virtuoso,’ a headline that’s still cropping up all these years later even though she’s never been comfortable with that title.

“I will try to find a way to make it interesting, so it’s not just a repeat–” she starts to say, and looks relieved when I say that I don’t want to talk about the fact that she’s a woman. Not because it’s not interesting, or ground-breaking, or even print-worthy – of course it is. But because at a certain point, it should become normal. Traditions evolve after all, and that is something that Sona has a lot to say about. She agrees that it has done her career a great benefit to engage with the dialogue surrounding the gender issue, not to mention the inspiration she has been to other women, but with all that she’s achieved since her debut, it might be time to move the conversation on a little bit – especially considering the wealth of things one could talk about when it comes to Sona Jobarteh that are not limited to her gender.

A cornerstone of the hereditary tradition from which she comes is pedagogy, the passing down of knowledge from generation to generation. Talking about her first album, Fasiya (Heritage), she explains the significance of this lineage, and the responsibility that comes with it. “My father kept telling me, ‘you’ve got to find your sound.’ Because when I was learning with him, I sounded like him, and that’s not the goal.” To initiated ears such as hers, all the great kora virtuosos – Toumani Diabaté, Ballaké Sissoko, and not forgetting her father, Sanjally Jobarteh, and grandfather Amadu Bansang Jobarteh – each have their own identifiable sound. “You listen to them, a couple of notes, you know immediately who is playing!”

Having developed her own unique sound over the years, and today a firmly cemented artist in the griot line-up, Sona is now faced with making sure that this archive of living knowledge she’s inherited is passed down. Her son Sidiki’s tuition is already well underway (he sometimes accompanies her on stage), and his impressive deftness on the balafon is proof of his mum’s dedication as a teacher. But far from stopping there, Sona has set her sights on a much bigger legacy: educating generations of young Gambians by tackling the broken schooling system and reforming the curriculum. It’s no small undertaking, but she may be just the person for the job.

In 2015, The Gambia Academy opened its doors for the first time and Sona has been working tirelessly ever since to refine and expand the project. When she spoke to Songlines back in 2016, the school had 15 students; there are now 36, and she is seeking out volunteers, collaborators and funding to be able to expand it even further.

“I was fortunate to be able to have an education in schools like the Purcell School, and at the same time I was also extremely lucky to have the education that I received culturally – learning as a kora player, as a member of my family.” Studying in the UK, she was struck by the way culture was incorporated naturally into the curriculum, but that parallel, she says, doesn’t exist in most African schools. “When I started education here, for me that was amazing. It was like, wow! You just learn what it is to be a British person.”

Sona Jobarteh (photo: Rob O'Connor)

This revelation led, inevitably, to her questioning why the curriculum in Africa hadn’t yet shaken off that tragic, insidious vestige of its colonial legacy: why its own culture was still confined to ‘extra-curricular,’ if it featured at all. “It’s either education, or your culture,” she says, “and that was a big problem for me.” The antiquated system – even for those who can benefit from it – is creating what she calls a ‘road out of the country.’ “We are educating people in areas which are totally ineffective within [the Gambia],” she explains. “And then we start questioning why migration happens. Because you’ve got all these qualifications, you’re incredibly talented, and there’s no place for you here. And so, they have to go [abroad] to find a decent job.”

You can tell she’s used to presenting on these issues. Her activism is well informed and eloquent, and leaves no doubt that she’s spent years looking at these problems from every angle, picking them apart and stripping them down to their bare bones to work out what needs to change. The new curriculum that she’s developing is built around the most essential questions: what does the country need and how can those needs be met from within the country? Emphasising African culture and history, the Academy teaches students to be inspired by their traditions as well as equipping them with the theoretical and applied skills to succeed within and elevate their own communities. But it’s not just about studying their tradition. “You need to make sure they have a voice, and that’s really the main thing I could hope for – [for] that generation to feel they do have a voice within their own tradition.”

Hearing her speak, it’s hard not to feel swept up by the revolution of change that she’s set in motion – meaningful change that is sustainable and effective. Pulling off a project like this requires an unthinkable amount of energy, entrepreneurial skills, a crystal-clear vision of the bigger picture, an understanding of the cultural context, and all the logistical planning needed to get it off the ground. It is, in a nutshell, the perfect example of everything she wants those kids to be able to do themselves one day.

“We’re talking about the leaders of tomorrow. I can’t say that I have a positive outlook on African leadership without questioning, and actually treating it as an emergency, to deal with our education system.” And that’s exactly what she’s doing. A mammoth task, to be sure, but one that is already well under way, and they’d be hard pressed to find themselves with a better person at the helm. But how do her griot teachings fit into this curriculum? After all, the tradition is a huge part of Gambian culture, but as a role you are born into, not one you choose. What does that mean for her non-griot students? “I would say that the Academy is representative of institutionalising our traditions,” she replies. “Not in place of, but in support of the tradition. And where it’s still able to take place in that family context then you celebrate that. But we can’t rely on that.”

Lacking the industries needed to support successful musicians at home, many of the griot families in the Gambia are now fragmented. “We’ve had, probably, two generations now that have grown up without their teachers. And since it’s a family tradition, you can’t learn it anywhere else. If your father is abroad for 20 years, and you’ve grown up there by yourself, who are you learning from?”

In order for the griot tradition to survive, it needs to evolve. “Social structures have changed, and traditions have to adapt, otherwise they just fall away. I see this as a necessary and essential change that we have to start embracing. But we’re not going to be able to do that if we marginalise [parts] of the population.” Take Salif Keita, the legendary Malian musician, who helped put Mande music on the map and has undoubtedly been an inspiration to generations of griots, but who himself is not one. Then there is Sona herself. Both are examples of people who would customarily have been excluded from the realms of the music they’ve chosen. People who have broken the mould. “I don’t see it as anti-tradition, or going against tradition,” she argues. “It’s pro-tradition. It’s trying to support it, to boost it, to raise it.”

The pandemic kept Sona away from the Academy throughout most of lockdown, and touring too was obviously put on hold, but with things finally easing she will be playing at London’s Barbican in November and says there has at least been one silver lining as far as she’s concerned: she’s had time to work on her upcoming album. “It’s been a ridiculous number of years that I’ve been working on it – and it’s not been for want of working – but without COVID-19, I can tell you, I would not be close to finishing this album! So that has been a blessing in disguise, but it has made me realise how much of a mountain I set for myself when it comes to my music now.”

Her first album was a personal exploration of her ancestral repertoire, but now that she’s earned her stripes, she’s using this record to make some waves and sing what people need to hear, even if for some it might be a hard pill to swallow. “The griot had this unique role and responsibility to be the one that could voice the concerns of the people to the rulers… and it’s something, for me, that has been lost.” But in her own take on the tradition, she is starting to bring that element back. “I’m not talking about embedded traditional concepts like on the first album. I’m trying to actually talk about things that might be very new to the tradition and questioning the things that we embed. It’s been an interesting journey of how to express that and still make sense.” We’re talking social change, political issues and accountability – in the Gambia, in Africa, and universally. From what she tells me, no punches have been pulled on this record.

Sporting somewhat of a reputation already when it comes to breaking with tradition and doing things her own way, she’s eager, and perhaps a little apprehensive, to see how this album will sit with the elder generation of griots. “We do need to be able to gain the understanding of that generation as much as my own, and younger,” she stresses, before making a joke about how she might not be invited back to play for political leaders on the continent once the album is finally released. “But,” she adds defiantly, “I’m never shying away from making sure people understand exactly what it is that I’m going to be talking about.”

The album’s release date still remains shrouded in mystery. But she doesn’t hesitate to remind me, “five years is nothing, you know, this tradition has been here for hundreds of years, so I can take another year or two if it needs it. I don’t just feel like this is my album, I feel like it’s my contribution to the tradition. It needs to be right, and I need to know that I’ve done the best that I can do.” If this album packs the punch she’s promising, I have no doubt that it will be well worth the wait.

This interview originally appeared in the December 2021 issue of Songlines magazine. Never miss an issue – subscribe today