In early May, 1987 my wife and I were attending a conference of the American Association of Pastoral Counselors in New Orleans. By good fortune, it coincided with the week of the New Orleans Jazz Festival (which was much more interesting than the AAPC Convention!) On May 4th we spent the entire day at the Festival watching such great artists as Benny Waters, Wynton Marsalis and Sweet Honey in the Rock. A very memorable moment occurred while we were watching Sweet Honey. They were performing on a stage in a large tent that was crowded with enthusiastic fans.

In their inimicable way they started with a few laid back spirituals, continued with some Gospel songs and then worked up to a frenzy with African freedom songs. As their set was nearing it's end, they were singing "All for Freedom" at an ever-increasing tempo. The whole place was swinging and swaying. While the group repeated "All for Freedom!" as a continuing riff, the large woman with the incredible baritone voice who was taking the lead started singing out the names of great African freedom fighters: "Nelson Mandela" ("all for freedom, all for freedom"), "Steve Biko" ("all for freedom, all for freedom"), etc. As she sang out these illustrious names she began dancing around the stage until it was literally shaking from her movement. Everyone in the tent was moving with her.

Then in her enthusiasm she took one step too many and fell precipitously from the stage (a good 5-6 feet), landing with a thump flat on her back on the ground below. There was a sudden and complete silence throughout the tent. Everyone was agasp. Was she unconscious? Was she DEAD? The other members of the group all came to the edge of the stage and at first seemed afraid to look, but then peered down with worried expressions, as if expecting the worst. Everyone seated in the first few rows got up and looked down at the visage of this huge, wonderful woman lying flat on her back, eyes open but not moving, cordless microphone still grasped firmly in her hand. No-one knew quite what to do and the silence seemed interminable. And then slowly..very slowly, her eyes began to blink, a smile came on her face, and first in a very weak voice she sang "Mandela, Biko,... all for freedom". With each name her voice grew stronger. The group, somewhat reassured, went back to the middle of the stage and hesitatingly resumed singing "All for freedom..." By the 5th name she was sitting up, and by the 8th or 9th was slowly climbing back on stage. Trying each leg to make sure it was still intact, she began to dance again, and then finished the song, dancing, singing loudly with that strong, resonant voice, and raising her fist along with those of her sisters-in-song in the South African salute to freedom. There was not a dry eye in the place, and I don't think I've ever been as hoarse as I was that May afternoon as the crowd, in one thunderous voice expressed its appreciation for a truly unforgettable heartfelt moment of song.

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