Photo by Yuni Rere
The Berlin Philharmonic is made up of virtuoso players from around the world; in this segment of Berlin Without Walls, we hear from the instrumentalists themselves, as they describe their experiences from the initial audition to performing with one of the world’s great orchestras.
Photo by Yuni Rere
In describing the rich sonic color of the Berlin Philharmonic, conductor Simon Rattle says that it “comes from the center of the Earth.” We deconstruct the orchestra section by section, and then put it all back together again to hear just how they make that incredible sound.
Photo by Lars Lapsus
We view the Berlin Philharmonic within the context of Nazi Germany, through the story of Jewish violinist Hellmut Stern. Stern, who fled Germany at the start of the war, returned to his homeland afterwards to join the Philharmonic — under former Nazi party member Herbert von Karajan.
Photo by Evan Chakroff
Furtwängler; von Karajan; Celibidache; Abbado — and the list goes on. These are just some of the forceful personalities that have led the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra during its long and storied history. We examine how each maestro brought his own particular style to bear on the ensemble, and how the Philharmonic always managed to maintain its own separate identity in spite of the man on the podium.
To the world, he’s known as Sir Simon Rattle. To the Berlin public, he’s considered a real “Mench.” If you ask the conductor himself, he’d prefer to be known as “just Simon.” We go behind the scenes with the Berlin Philharmonic’s music director, and hear from his friends and colleagues just what makes this particular maestro so well-respected and loved.
As of a month ago, a few more than 1,100 Iraqis had resettled in the United States since last year. The government hoped to have that number at 7,000, but blames the shortfall on an archaic bureaucratic process. The Augustin family are refugees from Iraq and feel lucky that they were among the chosen few. They had to flee Iraq because of their religious beliefs, and now they live in Detroit, Mich. As part of the Weekend America series “One Thing,” producers Ann Heppermann and Kara Oehler talk with the Augustins about the one thing they managed to hold on to as they fled Iraq: their home movies.
This year, the United States re-settled nearly 7,000 refugees from Somalia, the most of any African nation. Like many minority Somali Bantu, Omar Abdirahaman and his family fled to Kenya after being targeted by militia groups in Somalia. Omar, his wife and children spent 15 years in the refugee camp, and finally made it abroad in 2004. Like most Somali Bantus in Portland, Ore., Omar works at a fish factory in town. But on weekends, especially in the morning, he sings and plays traditional guitar and drums. That’s the one thing Omar brought with him, his music.
Abdiasis Mohamed: My name is Abdiasis Mohamed , I am one of the Somali Bantu community.
Women: Morning! Morning to you! Morning!
Abdiasis Mohamed: What we gonna show you today is mainly what is the Somali Bantu culture and what it’s based on. We usually sing together and come up with songs. Most of the Bantu songs, they come under situations. These kind of situations were like, when the civil war started in Somali, from 1991-92, when the civil war broke out in Somali. That’s when the song started.
Omar Abdirahaman: In 1992, the war break down in the Somali country. That war affected all the country, but especially, our community — Somali Bantu. In Somalia, there is a group called Somalia who are holding the power, and there is other small-small group like me. I am Somali Bantu. We are just people who are farming, people they go to farm in the morning and they come home in the evening. Just do some guitar, some song, drumming, play music.
Abdiasis Mohamed: The Bantus are the major farmer that grow all the stuff for the government. So the government will come use force - take whatever you grow by force and you can’t say anything.
Omar Abdirahaman: Our people the Somali Bantu was discriminated. So that’s why when the war break down, we doesn’t have any minister, any political person. So the whole system of our community was break down. My father was killed in front of me. Someone come to our home with a gun and shoot our dad. The next morning one of my neighbors, he was shot and killed. We walked 12 days. I didn’t bring anything because I couldn’t carry anything. Everything I have, I just left it.
Abdiasis Mohamed: These kind of songs are mainly based on the running away from home to the refugee camps. So you’re just running from Somali to Kenya for refugee. you’re running away. you’re escaping for your life. It’s kind of running and singing. You don’t know where to go. That’s how the song came over.
Omar Abdirahaman: We spent there almost 15 years in the refugee camp. Even in Kenya, there is no full peace. In the refugee camp, in Kenya even, one day what happened is, my wife goes some places to look for food. There is people who have a gun, they are walking around in the evening. One day my wife go out from the refugee camp, she has been raped and then beaten. The left side was broken and up to now, she’s not feeling well, that left side. In the refugee camp, we have a big board, with the name of the refugee families printed out. And every single week, they put on the board the names of the refugee and then what’s the plan. So I saw my name and all my family. It said that Abdirahaman, your case has been approved by the United States and you will be resettled in the United States. That is the day I start breathing even.
Abdiasis Mohamed: Actually we have a wedding party for two community members from our Somali Bantu Community. They’re gonna celebrate. Eat food, dance. Music, drum, and everything. We are here now, people go to school. Kiddies go to school.
Girls: I’m from Somalia. I’m from Somalia, too. We’re the same. We’re sisters. We have, like same grandma and grandpa.
Abdiasis Mohamed: It’s kind of a dream come true. And we’ve been waiting for a long here.
Omar Abdirahaman: Now I am in the United States and my life already changed, my kiddies changes, I get a job and the kiddies go to school, they already speaking English. But I don’t want them to forget the American culture or our culture too, so when I have the time, I just volunteer myself to call some of the kiddies to show them how to play guitar and our cultural dances and then drums. We are still thinking people that we left behind in the Africa refugee camp. The people are still there.
Woman: My name is Gedi Abdi. Mainly, I am alone here, my kiddies — one is in Nairobi and one is Somalia back home, and there’s no chances for me to bring them over here.
Abdiasis Mohamed: We sing this song for the struggle of freedom. May God give us our freedom. So we not going to leave any kiddies behind, ladies men women, youth, elderly people even. We’re not going to leave anyone behind until we all die or get our we get our freedom back. Anywhere you go, show that this is our culture and it can be known so that we are people that are known that we are here.
By the end of this year the United States expects to allow 5,500 immigrants from South Asia to immigrate to the United States. As the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan rage on, there is no doubt that some of those immigrants will be from these two countries. Ahmed Ali had been a military doctor in Afghanistan, but when the Taliban took over in Kabul, he feared for his family. He hid in the mountains, while his wife and nine children walked to Pakistan. There they applied for visas to the U.S. Ali’s family moved to Amarillo, Texas in 2000, without him. The one thing they all carried with them throughout their journey, and even once they resettled, was a photocopy of a picture of their dad. The family never gave up hope that he could one day join them. Ali finally arrived earlier this year. As part of the Weekend America series “One Thing,” producers Ann Heppermann and Kara Oehler talk with the Alis about the last seven years.
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Leena Ali: Hi my name is Leena, I’m from Afghanistan and I come with my family like my Mom.
Shafiqa Ali: I’m Shafiqa Ali, I have nine children.
Leena Ali: And my sisters and my brothers,
Mariya Sheer Ali: Hi, My name is Mariya Sheer Ali Sheer Ali, I am the oldest, of my family sisters and brothers.
Leena Ali: We all come together as refugee.
Leena Ali: We not worried about money in Afghanistan. Because in Afghanistan, my dad was a doctor.
Mariya Sheer Ali: We have a very big house in Kabul.
Leena Ali: I don’t even remember how many rooms on it…
Mariya Sheer Ali: The only reason we move from our country is because of the Taliban.
Leena Ali: We were sitting outside and we heard the bombing and the shooting stuff and my dad was like just let’s leave.
Mariya Sheer Ali: And we worry because my dad he was a doctor for the military. We heard the Taliban kill a lot of people who work with the Afghanistan government.
Shafiqa Ali: My husband say, “Just keep your children and you go. Because I go with you, the Taliban kill you and the children and me.”
Mariya Sheer Ali: We leave in the early morning but we don’t get anything with us, only the dress that we wore.
Leena Ali: We were on the mountains for thirteen…
Shafiqa Ali: Thirteen days…
Leena Ali: …and twelve nights we were traveling.
Shafiqa Ali: Sometimes coming walking, sometimes coming with the truck.
Mariya Sheer Ali: 20, 30 trucks follow each other. It’s all full of children and womans. They all take them to different place.
Shafiqa Ali: We come to Pakistan and my husband not with us.
Mariya Sheer Ali: I make a dress for people and we make a little money. We start life from zero, we begin again.
Leena Ali: There was a picture of my dad in my brother’s wallet, it was a black and white picture, when he was young. It makes me so sad and I start crying because I missed him so much and I said that I missed him so much and I say, I wished he was with us.
Mariya Sheer Ali: Somebody told my Mom there is an embassy if you go there they gonna help us with the food or something. And they decide to send us to the United States like a refugee.
Shafiqa Ali: I can’t believe you believe me. I say what? They say I’m serious, you go to America. With my children? They say yes. I just think like this, Oh God you help me because that’s too hard to go to different country.
Leena Ali: When my Mom came and told us that we were going to America, we were not happy to come in here.
Mariya Sheer Ali: Some people told us when you get to America, that the men’s hug you kiss you if you want if you don’t want it. We were really afraid of this stuff.
Leena Ali: When we came here,
Mariya Sheer Ali: The most thing that is important for us is Daddy’s picture.
Leena Ali: We make those pictures bigger, so we still have it.
Mariya Sheer Ali: When we come to the United States a few months they say that we should work and support our families and then I find a job at the restaurant like a Waffle House, I waitress there. I was working hard but the money is not enough but I think why I shouldn’t not open a little store for myself because I know a lot of refugee peoples here, they all need the stuff in our country but couldn’t find.
Shafiqa Ali: This shelf is for African food, this part is for Bosnian people, that one for Iranian people, you see?
Mariya Sheer Ali: And after that the Russian people come here, Croatian and African, everybody come and ask about their stuff,
Shafiqa Ali: We get a lot of refugee people heres.
Mariya Sheer Ali: My relatives back home they ask me is it hard to a woman run like a grocery foods, I told them no not at all. I feel more like Americans when I do this business this job.
Leena Ali: Baymont in, front desk.
Leena Ali: Now in Amarillo, I working at the hotel, I’m the front desk manager over here,
Leena Ali: Yes sir, can I help you?
Leena Ali: The other day I was checking somebody into the hotel was and he was asking me what my accent from and I said, I’m from Afghanistan and he goes, You’re not one of those Taliban people are you. And I go woah thanks sir but that’s really rude. Some people do say that stuff but who cares.
Leena Ali: We wasn’t sure if my Dad was alive or not.
Leena Ali: My little sister was so young when we brought her, the only way to remind her of my dad to show his picture but she knows him seeing his picture. We all sisters have one copy in our purse and always when I looked at that picture it remind me like he’s looking at me.
Shafiqa Ali: One day just somebody call me and said, “I want you to talk to somebody. Hello, and He said, Hello how are you ? Oh my gosh are you alive? And he say yes, I am alive, are you alive? Yes, I alive. We are together cry. We talk on the phone for thirty minute. So, after that we apply for his coming here after coming here.
Leena Ali: When my dad come from Afghanistan we…
Mariya Sheer Ali: …wait for him until he come out of the airplane…
Leena Ali: …and when he walked in…we just scream and yell and cry and hug him.
Mariya Sheer Ali: Oh I thought, I’m dreaming, I touch him and I say, am I dreaming daddy or it’s for real that my dad is here.
Shafiqa Ali: You know it’s right your husband is with you. (laughs)
Leena Ali: Even though I have my dad with me, it still I love this picture because it always reminding me of him. It always keeping to remind of him. We all happy to have him back.
Leena Ali: I keep taking picture with him and I feel like we a complete family now.
This year, the United States has received nearly 14,000 Burmese refugees, and agencies in Indianapolis, Ind., have resettled over 600 Chin refugees this year, mainly from camps in Malaysia. The Chin are one of the largest ethnic groups in Burma and mainly Christian. Here, many Chin have set up churches on the south side of Indianapolis, and are practicing Christianity openly for the first time in years. As part of the Weekend America series “One Thing,” producers Ann Heppermann and Kara Oehler talk with Sui Tluangneh who was forced to flee his country because of the item he brought with him: a poem.
Special thanks to Lila Dobbs, Amber Cortes and Sanda Htyte for production help and to Exodus Refugee Immigration in Indianapolis.
“Victory with Identity” by Midnight
One of my friends I met one morning
After a very long time had made us apart
Firmly his hands shaked mine; his face smiling
Surprise and joy supposed, no words I could start
Recalled were the old days we spent together
When he was the most handsome among my friends
Now his eyes …sunken; his skin also much darker
It’s sure he was with some invisible pains
Beyond my expectation was his sudden arrival
Taking out of his bag something he gave me
That was nothing other than the “Chin National Journal”
Which seemed to have appeared with immeasurable difficulty
The book he gave me was actually made of paper
But for my hands it seemed to be made of iron
The cause of the heaviness of the book was because of its cover
One thousand words may not equal its illustration
Alas! A dove pierced through by a dagger
Is not the universal symbol of peace “dove”?
Who dare harm this beautiful innocent creature?
Surely the arms could by no means come from “love.”
Once more I looked at the bird which was with strife
It was still able to struggle, raising its head
Though the arms with its utmost capability tried to take its life
Thank God! The creature is still living, not yet dead
Do you say, “How can I do for my land at the time like now”?
If you say so, know that you are dead, or you are a slave
Victory is never of Powers and Arms; why not you know?
Is not “now” the best time to everyone God gave?
Oh! My co-Chins! Are you still idly sitting?
Why not save the life of the pitiable creature?
Why not fight for your land which is under a deadly sting?
Why not start your national duty now with pleasure?
Change is the process of this world and of nature
Are you changed by somebody else other than “you”?
Unfortunately negative change is today’s Chinland’s feature
Oh Brothers! Let’s with international outlook fight against this foe
If you had to leave your home, the only place you know, what would you take with you? Last year, some 41,000 refugees resettled in the United States, their luggage filled with hopes, fears, scars and painful memories and for some, a few tangible tokens to remind them of home.
One Thing is the name of our new series. Traveling to towns and cities across America, we asked newly arrived refugees about their journey and that one thing they carried with them. Our first story takes place in Phoenix, Ariz., where a large number of Burundians are resettling.
Stories from the Heart of the Land, a five-part radio series hosted by Jay Allison that ranges across the world — from Australia to Newfoundland, Mexico to Tibet — to capture the human connection to land and landscape. The series features stories from some of the best producers around: The Kitchen Sisters, Sean Cole, Barrett Golding and many more.
For “Stories from the Heart of the Land,” Kara and Ann explored the Diorama Exhibits at the American Museum of Natural History. Dioramas take people to natural places that they may never visit in person, and leave them with the sense that they have been there…at least in their imagination.
Steve Quinn gave us a tour.
It’s blasting out of every other car window. It’s playing at the yogurt shop. Your little sister has it on repeat. It’s The Song of the Summer, the one that’s playing everywhere and practically defines the summer. We asked three music-minded folks–WFMU’s Liz Berg, CMJ Music Editor Kenny Rose, XXL Music Editor Leah Rose–to give us their predictions for this summer’s hit song.
You can hear Liz Berg on WFMU.
If she was making you a mix tape this summer, here’s what she’d put on it:
It can’t be much of a surprise that a developer has finally bought New York City’s Coney Island. It’s been a staple of New York City since the turn of the last century, known for its cheap, low-brow and just plain weird collection of games, rides, fried food, and freak shows. Coney Island catered to the middle- and lower- classes, for whom it was just a subway ride away. But that playground is changing drastically. A private equity firm has plans to build a glass-enclosed water park, hi-rise hotels, movie theaters, and chain stores. The landmark Cyclone roller coaster will stay, but developers say everything else must go. We hear from residents and visitors about the Coney Island they remember and the new one they want.
“Private Eyes”
Hall & Oates
People recall songs from their lives that evoke strong memories. Independent producers Ann Heppermann and Kara Oehler talk with Mike Daisey, who says “Private Eyes,” by Hall and Oats conjures up some serious memories for him.
? and the Mysterians
“96 Tears”
Rebel Chef Anthony Bourdain is best known for his raucous ways in the world of the professional kitchen, which he details in his book “Kitchen Confidential.” We asked him to put away his pans and think back to when he was a kid — is there a song from childhood that brings it all back? Bourdain can pinpoint his desire for a rebellious drug- and sex- drenched youth to one song: “96 Tears” by ? and the Mysterians. Weekend America asks him what he loved about that song.
