What can a smile, framed with the deep wrinkles carved by a lifetime of farming under the sun reveal?  

Can his eyes sing of joy, when his voice is weak, and he offers his praise from a chair?

The author of Ecclesiastes asks:  What do people gain from all their labors at which they toil under the sun?

We were invited to assemble, to sit, to hear the melodies, to celebrate their dances and experience the rhythms of praise. 

But praise?  There is toil under the sun to fetch water, to find firewood, to tend fields and care for livestock, to pound cassava into fufu, to scrub the red dust and animal dung from clothes, and to build homes block by block.  

We built a studio under a massive tree, its branches lifted up, poised for celebration. Dozens of indigenous songs were carefully prepared by two choirs.  When everyone was ready, they began.

The praise grew slowly until the crescendo of drumming unlocked voices and the choir transformed from singing to praise.

After checking on some of the video and recording gear I sat down next to Beth. I reached over to squeeze her hand.  She tried to speak, but her voice was so full of emotion she could only smile, her eyes glistening.  She finally just exclaimed, “Do you hear the harmony – it is so beautiful”.   

Enjoy the videos below, even though the short iphone videos could not capture the richness of the music (we will produce the audio tracks from the studio mics later).

Penned 3000 years ago, it remains a relevant question.  “What do people gain from all their labors at which they toil under the sun?”

When we stop chasing the wind and follow the Lord, will our toil under the sun bring satisfaction? Can our lives blossom with joy?  Beneath the shade of an old tree, the bright colors, vocal harmonies, and complex rhythms were woven together into a musical Kente. The answer is simple.