By Kameron Ghanavati
Five ordinary people walk into a prison….
No, this is not the beginning of a joke with a clever punch line. Rather, it was the beginning of a life-changing week for a group of five Eastman students and alumni.
This winter break, Hannah Harrow (MM ‘18), Stephen Morris (BM ‘17), Kameron Ghanavati (MM ‘18), Steve Harrow (BM ‘79), and Michael Craig (BM ‘15) embarked on a journey to the notorious Rikers Island Correctional Facility in NYC. This group, calling itself Raise Your Voice, spent January 10 through 14 at the prison, putting on a series of music workshops for 18 to 21-year-old young men. Hannah, the founder of this project, knew this would be the first to be many trips to Rikers. The group already plans to return over Spring Break.
The workshop took place in the George Motchan Detention Center, and we were the first group of this kind to visit the GMDC. The committed group of young men who signed up for our workshop spent four hours with us each day. We taught them to sing using gospel songs, to play drums and improvise in a drum circle, to read notes and rhythmic notation; how to perform, how to work together as a musical group, how to listen to and engage with different styles of music; we prayed together and studied scripture along with the lyrics of the gospel songs and spirituals. The group grew by leaps and bounds, from not being able to sing even a single pitch in unison to holding the tune to “Amazing Grace.” We finished the week with a mini-concert that moved us, and our audience of officers, other volunteers and guests to tears.
Rather unexpectedly, one of the highlights from the week was bringing in candy, snacks, and special meals for the guys. One day, we threw a pizza party, complete with chips, cookies, and soda. They stood in disbelief as we set out the feast before them on makeshift tables of school desks and upside-down garbage cans. “I haven’t poured myself a cup of soda in like … 20 months!” one young man exclaimed. “Man, it’s good to hear someone say to eat as much as you want. It makes me feel like I’m home.” We talked and ate together just like you would talk and eat with your friends and family.
But it was the music that broke down insurmountable cultural barriers and paved the way for lasting and meaningful friendships. I’ll never forget the moment the young men opened us to. As they filed in on the first day, some of us were already playing instruments. We offered each one a percussion instrument and invited them to join the jam session. Before we even knew each other’s names, smiles and laughter filled the room that first felt dark and uncomfortable.
Over the course of the workshop, all five of us were able to perform for the guys. I’ll never forget singing “You Raise Me Up” with Hannah. “We watched the music and words sweep over the room. It was hard not to cry. You could see the song’s message of hope penetrate right to their hearts. Their faces lit up and everyone began clapping with us as we sang the final choruses. They loved it so much we had to sing a chorus again so they could sing with us,” Hannah recalls.
The guys surprised us with their talents. Some played bongos, some had studied piano; some liked to rap and write lyrics, and some liked to sing. (You should have heard them all pretend to be opera singers!) For others, this was their first time singing, playing and engaging with music. As the week progressed, they all gained confidence and their creativity overflowed. They ended up arranging a medley of several spirituals that included rap and beatboxing. Hannah says she will never forget how their heart-felt and boisterous choral rendition of “This Little Light of Mine” reverberated so joyfully through halls of that jail.
However, even more moving than their musical expressivity was their ability to eloquently and beautifully articulate their feelings, hopes and dreams as we studied the Bible together. One young man hopes to attend seminary and become a jail minister; another wants to study more music so he can play in churches someday. They inspired us with their faith in God, and their hope in His forgiveness and purpose for their lives. On the third day, we asked the guys to write down their prayers. I was blown away by the selflessness of the requests: pray for my family, pray for my wife and five-month old daughter, pray for my enemies, pray for the man who stabbed me, pray that God would forgive me for the wrong I have done, pray that I would get a second chance to make things right. The guys showed me what believing in second chances really means.
“Saying goodbye on the last day was harder than I ever imagined,” said Hannah. “I didn’t say goodbye to ‘prisoners’ or ‘inmates’ or ‘criminals.’ I said goodbye to a group of inspiring young men whom I had learned from and grown to love. They walked away from our workshop not only inspired by the music we made together, but also committed to spreading light and hope and to believing in a brighter future.”
We used music to bring light to a very dark place. But, I realized that I needed these young men just as much as they needed us: the five ordinary people walking into that prison with a mission to give hope to the hopeless, voices to the voiceless. One young man summed up the workshop better than I ever could: “When we was all playing, and singing together…I didn’t feel like I was incarcerated no more.”