When did it Become Shady to Sing and Dance like an African?

Was at a live concert recently. I only do live concerts. The ones that have a band as amazing as Dela's at Choices last Thursday. The post is not about Dela by the way. She is a soulful,belting Kenyan songstress. Done with the disclaimer. Now, one Koech and I kept discussing something that we have noticed of late in upcoming urban, to be specific, Nairobian musicians. 

Let me quote Eric Wainaina, as I heard a pastor do at AFLEWO 2008.

'West is not best. It's just that, West.'

                                                     Dela at Tribe Hotel last year (KWELI of course took the photo)

What is Afrofusion? What defines Kenyan music?

is it the person or the music that makes it African? 

This is a brief look at a topic you may have heard before. You might be tempted to switch off,but before you do, hear me out.

In my view, we have so many young Nairobians struggling, and yes the word is struggling, to sound like Beyonce, Wiz Khalifa, John Legend when surrounded by such greats as Hugh Masekhela, Sarah Mitaru and Juliani. Go out of this continent and they want to hear your story in your language and melody, rhythme, stye!

Hugh could play the trumpet as well as the Jazz greats of his time. They admitted it. However, one of them told him,' We have already heard that and we know how it sounds. We want to hear what your own sound is like.' In his interview with JKoinange he goes on to say how he had to call his grandma back in S.A. to get old traditional tunes/songs which he started to listen to. He listened to it the same way we idolize how Esperanza Spalding plays,practices,records, ad libs etc. He then incorporated these tunes to become a world Jazz legend.

               Hugh on the cover and Mama Afrika-Miriam Makeba. (Makeba-getty images. Hugh-RS Mag)

Does this mean we should stick to traditional chants and always go on stage with sisal skirts? Yes-twould be fun watching:-) Ok, not necessarily. Listen to Sautisol's Mwanzo to get the picture. 

This goes out especially to performing musicians. It has a lot to do with singers and songwriters since instrumentalists respect African melodies more than 'sophisticated' vocalists. Nothing makes a drummer so happy as to realise a Mzungu can't play seben.It doesn't matter the genre, put some African language n life into it. More than the mind, speak to the heart.

What do you bring to the table that is not 'China'? You can't master being someone else. You can't be good at being another person.

Question is: If John Legend were to collabo with a young musician from Kenya, how would the world know how Kenyans sound? Ever heard of Eric Wainaina feat. Oliver Mtukudzi? or Israel Houghton feat. Jonathan Butler or Dolly Parton feat. Ladysmith Mambazo, or India Arie feat. Dobet Gnahore or...I could go on and on.

 (N.B. Brett Dennen has an Indie song with benga accompaniment and probably has no idea:)

Finally, on a promotional note, this September, Lele presents THUM.Celebrate.Identity.

Oh No, Not Another One

Saitoti is dead. The others too. Bite me if you think I am ignoring other equally if not more important names. We have theories as to why the chopper was rigged, compromised, fishy, bewitched even.

We explain everything, even when there is no reason. We need a reason for everything-call it purpose. I get when we say there is need for a purpose in life, to give direction and meaning. I guess even that sense of identity comes from purpose e.g. how if your purpose was to save life by becoming a doctor, fulfillment of that gives you the identity of a caregiver/provider.

But then what about when you hit your head on the window or it starts to rain when you are indoors?

Once, my dad goes,

‘You see it was good that the cow started jumping in excitement because we Africans believe life and energy from man to animal to inanimate matter is interlinked. We are one; hence the jumping was a good sign.” (Story created due to writer’s memory lapse on what he said at the time. Put in small size fonts to hopefully escape your attention, which evidently did not work).

Now, expecting Mathe to refute that theory and replace the African with a more God-directed explanation, she goes “Now that’s an African speaking. The days when I used to do fieldwork, while working in public health in the 90s, you find a child is malnourished and is almost dying. Since the mother is also pregnant with another baby, she (this was the mzee’s opinion which was definitely hers) rationalizes it as the way it was meant to be.’ Mind you, this is not because she is necessarily superstitious, it’s just that for lack of a way to handle the situation, people turn to anything.

From that example we can conclude that human beings explain everything to find a way to handle situations. Fullstop. I tend to think if you are going to use the word ‘fullstop’ or ‘period’ at the end of a sentence then it doesn’t make sense putting the mark. It is redundant…and foolish i.e. does not make sense. However, we can explain that too. A paper titled, ‘the explanation of why humans see need to repeat themselves in symbol and word’ would make a good read.

African philosophy explains rain, sunshine, a dying blade of grass, an almost dying one and a broken one too.

Enehu, why not just leave some things as they are? I mean we have mistakes in everyday life-coincidences that do not add up-but when they don’t lead to a national disaster we assume them. Saitoti is dead, am sure wherever he is he would prefer if we looked into the crash to avoid future ones but not to stoke the human spirit.

Now, explain why the writer felt the urge to post this. 20 marks.

40 marks if you can explain why you need illustrations to elaborate your point.

and my Granma was strumming the guitar!

So, let’s assume I have forgotten everything up to this part of the dream. It starts with an advert of how this water company has brought water to our village, ocha where I come from. This boy, with a baby tired around his neck is standing by a large mass of water, smaller than a lake (aora). He sighs and takes the cup, not bucket, he was sent with to fetch water. I always question illogical things in my dream, but then I let this one go since it’s an ad.

        That place had an abstract animation-like effect of which this does not fully represent
(http://www.theroadscholar.net/Fairbanks.htm )

As the boy enters the village, there is the whole 3D thing of the grass-thatched rooftop getting electricity-lightning effect and everything in the homestead all of a sudden is brightly illuminated-think fluorescent bulbs.

(just continue with the story okay? Questions later)

I enter one of the huts that us boys chill out in and there is this relative, those who are always there with Dani till u consider them family, sitting and taking it all in. He asks me if it is possible to get water, like the way Dani did. I tell him yes. He then tells me how long a process he fears it is. I insist that most of this was done by my granny herself without help from her sons in Nairobi.

‘All you need to do is go to the offices, tell them you don’t have water, and fill the forms then follow up’. I am being honest since his face has a 'government doesn't give a crap' look.

After him getting my point, he takes a guitar and starts strumming, no sorry, plucking a Jeng’(Luo) tune and starts singing a beautiful, beautiful song. My granma walks into the room and I tell her how I have tried convincing this guy that the procedure is not hard. She nods in agreement.

‘Tell him granma,’  so she takes the guitar and starts singing to the same riff and hers is all drawly(like the way grandmothers sing) but really sweet and as I wonder what will happen to our two tunes, the other guy joins in a chorus with his previous tune and I jump in elation.

Kina my bro, Val my cousin and an uncle of mine (I figured who he was after waking up) can be heard entering the boma. So, I walk out of the hut to tell them to shush and come hear this awesome new song by Granny. My young uncle walks in and before I ask him, picks a guitar (perks of a dream) and starts singing a low ‘second verse’. And stops halfway.

He thinks it doesn’t fit in. I tell him to continue, ‘it’s perfect! After that the chorus blends in perfectly well...’

Then I wake up. I check the time. It’s 8 o’clock. My class starts at 8.30 a.m. Am late, but that tune plays in my head. Until I start typing this. Crap!

Good morning!

bc

The closest I got to a hut with lights

(http://greggsminiatureimaginations.blogspot.com/p/hagrids-hut-some-before-photos.html)

Music Makes Me...

Today, I'm stupidly happy! Past midnight and that bass is still in my system. It doesn't make sense to me how a low two weeks can be touched by a 2-hour practice session of a 2-year old song.

I mean, no fancy runs, no complex solos or deep lyrics(ok, the lyrics are deep) but its just the cry at the chorus and the throbbing, groovy bass and drums that has just made me smile as I type this ^_^

Ai! Hope y'all get to hear and maybe get an idea. The song is called Duara Dunia. The tune, the riff, the marimba at the beginning,Wangui's yeyeye...all that is awesome. But that wail and the bass just does it for me. Sululuu!^0^

By the way, usage of such expressions denote writer's inability to express himself in a civilised, coherent, conventional and other c's manner.

P.S. Such emotional posts must be forgotten as soon as the context looses relevance to yours faithfully and must not be quoted in future discourses.
P.P.S. I used the word discourse.

 Stolen image of practice session from random website(http://article.wn.com): That's my disclaimer

Ya Kwanza...

It’s past midnight.

Got internet just recently and I am raring to go all blogger/writer. I know, the rush dies off after a few months and then you have another dormant blog. You are giving me at most, a year? 2? Well, likewise..:-P 

If these circumstances remain a constant k, then am here for the long ride.

                                                       Amini jamani, tutafika

This blog is for my musings; mostly experiences around my life-music, art, family, friends, and news-the lot. 

I hate questions such as why do you do what you do? Why do you write? This is because I usually have no really good reason for half of the things I do. Ok, I lie. Enehu, I hate answering the question. I however ask a lot of whys, for the sake of fun but mostly to prompt people beyond the outer, superficial reason they give to more introspective, salient longings of the heart. Longing of the heart…lol, I think it sounds deep in a way.

                                                           I am serious!

I love talking; this spills to my writing as I am sure you might (not) have noticed. Here's to Bodo's Blog...haya, twende!

(usiulize wapi-sijui)

Goodnight.
bc