Follow the Music

Each morning, I wake up to the sound of Taylor’s red speaker filling the kitchen with a different song, choices ranging from Noah Kahan to Norah Jones, Jack Johnson and more. At the beginning of the spring semester, ZamFam ’26 created a collaborative playlist for us all to add music to. While the twenty-two-hour playlist seemed insignificant at the time, it has quickly become a soundtrack for our time in Zambia. “Electric Love” playing in our headphones on the bush plane, Meg singing along to “Willing and Able” as she makes breakfast, and “You’re so Vain” making an appearance during one of our slow-runner’s club runs are just a few moments that I won’t soon forget. However, our interaction with music has extended far beyond this extensive playlist.

On our safari in Botswana, Meg, Sarah, Taylor, Emi, Lauren, and I jokingly created a song which was quickly and continually shared with everyone around us, including Jeff, the guides, strangers, and the rest of ZamFam, all of whom indulged us. Chef P, the man who made dinner for our camp, played several original songs under the name Jay Bless music, utilizing it as an opportunity to uniquely share his story of struggles but also gratitude. When we landed in Zambezi, we were greeted by singing students from Chilenga Primary School, and at mass the next morning we serenaded everyone with a Lunda song we had attempted to learn the night before. Even last night, we fell asleep to blasting music from the bars in the market and woke up this morning to the same noise as we trekked to elderly aerobics at 6am.

While some of these experiences have left me struggling for breath from laughter, I have also noticed the special and unique role music plays in life, intensifying moments of joy or struggle while simultaneously connecting us with others. It extends far beyond language barriers or cultural differences, something I have discovered is especially crucial for our time in Zambezi. It supports us on our journey without controlling our path, even expressing emotions that our own words cannot.

The other day we read a chapter from How to Know a Person by David Brooks, in which he discusses the act of accompaniment. What struck me about his writing was how he utilized music to ground one of his points:

The pianist accompanies the singer. They are partners, making something together, but the accompanist is in the supportive role, subtly working to embellish the beauty of the song and help the singer shine. The accompanist is sensitive to what the singer is doing, begins to get a feel for the experience she is trying to create.

Music is a foundational aspect of my identity, from concerts to car sing-alongs and my passion for guitar, I cannot remember a time when I did not love music wholeheartedly. Music is inclusive, inviting everyone to the table regardless of their background or status, fostering a sense of connection and community with those around us. It does not expect anything from its listeners, it does not push them to conform to certain expectations, but rather it encourages them to embrace authenticity and the joy of shared humanity. Just last night, I watched Joe’s face light up as he finally met a Zambian who owned a cello he could play, and earlier this week some of us danced along to “Party in the USA” at the market, with several Zambian women joining in.

Empathy and accompaniment are deeply significant to me, as they are often a struggle to find at home in Dallas, TX. I have witnessed division and dehumanization deeply entrenched within within my community, and as a result it has often been a great source of frustration and isolation. Rather than working to support people where they are at, I have seen harmful expectations and aggressive pressure forced onto those who are unable to meet the unrealistic standards.

I have quickly discovered during my time in Zambezi the importance of “signing onto another person’s plan,” as Brooks describes, which sometimes even looks like starting class 15 minutes late each morning because people in Zambezi operate on “Zambian time.” While I find some common cultural norms confusing at times, I am learning to appreciate others’ journey and decisions, despite conflicting views I might hold. I cannot possibly begin to understand the nuances and complications of others’ experiences that shape their choices, and it would be arrogant of me to assume otherwise.

Unlike humans, music perfectly embodies the act of accompaniment by transcending any sense of ego or self-centeredness, choosing to let go of the reins while still engaging to support, uplift, and encourage others. It does not ask questions but sits in the challenging spaces with those in struggle. It is not a transactional relationship, but it provides attention to those in need regardless of personal beliefs. I believe we all have a lot to learn from music.

Hayden Smith
ZamFam ‘26
Class of 2029

Mom, Dad, and Hudson, I miss you guys so much and I cannot wait to crush some Mexican food when I get back. We should try to make our way down to Big Bend this summer or at least to a new bookstore a few hours away. Also, Dad keep me updated on Phoebe Bridgers and Radiohead. Love you so much and say hi to Riggins for me!

Allie, Silver Springs was playing last night, and I was thinking about Get it Gorl and our dramatic sing-alongs. I also explained to everyone what the dream day in college looks like, you know what I’m talking about. I can’t wait to see you and talk till 2am when we should definitely be asleep. I hope your sleep schedule is better now that you’re not living with me 🙂

Valencia, I tried poloni the other day which is like a hot dog and then we were all talking about Seds which made me think about the absurd number of nights we ended up there. Also, Clare you need to come to Zambia because I do not think we have stopped laughing since we’ve been here and we did elderly aerobics this morning which I know you would’ve absolutely loved.

My Texas besties, I am so ready for some summer sunsets and late night debriefs at Sonic and Whataburger. We need to update our bingo card and find things to do this summer that aren’t eating and shopping, I’m literally begging.