The field recording that inspired this composition features a Bayaka musician playing the geedal, an instrument whose sound is deeply connected to the forest, communal memory, and oral transmission. When I first listened to the recording, what struck me was not only the melody, but the space around it: the breath, the rhythm, and the sense of conversation between the player, the instrument, and the environment. The geedal, whose timbre closely resembles the adeudeu from Western Kenya, where I come from, felt less like a solo instrument and more like a voice embedded within a living ecosystem. This immediately shaped my approach to the composition, not as a reinterpretation that dominates the original or places it in the background, but as a dialogue with it, allowing the geedal to remain the bed of the music. As a Kenyan artist working across traditional African instruments and contemporary production, I was drawn to reimagine the recording in a way that honours its origins while allowing it to travel across geographies and time. I approached the piece asking how I could respond musically without erasing the cultural specificity of the Bayaka sound world, while also connecting it to my own cultural lineage as a Luhya artist from Western Kenya. The similarities between the geedal and the adeudeu created a natural bridge, making it possible to situate the composition within a shared African sonic language. Technically, the field recording became the anchor of the piece. Rather than heavily manipulating it, I preserved the geedal’s texture and rhythmic integrity. In collaboration with my friend and producer, Ambrose Akwabi of Mandugu Digital, we conducted additional research on the Bayaka people to better understand their world, sounds, and musical techniques. Through this research, we chose to reimagine the work through an East African lens, reflecting my Kenyan background and Ambrose’s experience as a Kenyan based in Tanzania. We noticed strong sonic and rhythmic similarities between the Bayaka, the Luhya community, and the Wagogo of Tanzania. We began by stripping the original recording of its vocal elements, leaving only the geedal, which we looped and layered with bass, hi-hats and muffled snare, and a restrained kick. I recorded shakers and udu to introduce a watery, grounding texture, and added my voice in response to the phrasing and emotional tone of the original performance. Chants were used intentionally, with lyrics written in Luhya to echo the ancestral roots of the piece. The words narrate the story of the Bayaka people as custodians who have resisted disconnection from the forest and from nature. Ultimately, this composition is an offering: a bridge between regions, traditions, and listening practices, inviting the listener to experience the geedal not as an artifact, but as a living, resonant voice. Balonyona playing the geedal (bow harp) reimagined by Liboi. ———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds
