Learning Abun-dance Through Mutupo

Somewhere between our survival instinct and the persuasions of luxury and excess is a notion that ‘more people means less’ – less space, food, time or learning capacity. What happens when the proverb ‘kuwanda huuya’ dares us to consider that ‘more people does not mean less’? It means we learn abun-dance, the choreography of conviviality.

A joyous, fresh way of thinking about mutuality and reciprocity in pedagogy

Somewhere between our survival instinct and the persuasions of luxury and excess is a notion that ‘more people means less’ – less space, food, time or learning capacity. What happens when the proverb ‘kuwanda huuya’ dares us to consider that ‘more people does not mean less’? It means we learn abun-dance, the choreography of conviviality…

imagine a relaxed atmosphere outdoors, night-time. storyteller wears a t-shirt saying 'i want to fill this town with artists', and is gently playing an ancient instrument. academic, dressed in a shirt and tie, is frowning as he fiddles with a gadget (phone or laptop). poet arrives. storyteller immediately stops playing and puts the guitar down, standing up. he urgently ushers poet to a seat, then addresses them both with a curious sparkle they recognise:

‘What happens when learning from the Global South and the Global North breathe the same air?’

‘What happens when that air carries the intercultural vibrations of an acoustic music played, spoken, or sung?’

‘What happens when that music-filled air flow into and through spaces of formal learning?’

This book is open access under a CC BY NC ND licence.