The HipHop Africa Summer Research (HASR) project is a summer research program that sponsors youth who qualify, to conduct research on Hiphop and African youth culture in different parts of the African continent. This program allows participants to study Hiphop culture in different countries and to observe the Hiphop scene in many cities. At the same time, the students will analyze what the social and political contexts of Hiphop are in different cultures and observe the various messages that are being relayed through Hiphop.
So far HASR research associates have conducted research in the following countries: Ethiopia, Kenya, Nigeria, Senegal, South Africa, Tanzania and Zimbabwe. Research, included video interviews with youth, Hip-hop artists, producers, and educators. If you are interested in participating or hosting participants, please email us at research@africanhiphopproject.org.
HipHop in kenya, Isaac Ochieng (2003)
The Development of HipHiop in Kenya, Hillary Mutisya (2004)
The Story of Sam Diop: A Real Day in the Life of an African, Okechukwu Warigbo Iweala (2006)
Report by Isaac Ochieng
Introduction
Working on this his project, under the guidance of Lidet Tilahun provided me the chance to look at things I’d looked at a thousand times before in a new light. Actually, I don’t intend to make this report sound very intellectual. The observations I made were largely first hand, and the conclusions I came up with largely subjective. However, I hope that preparing this report will provide an insight to other people who might want to research on hip hop in Kenya.
The reach of hip hop in Kenya
Most of the Kenyan population still resides in the country-side. I had the opportunity to travel across the country, though not all parts of the country. I stayed in Nairobi (the capital city) for 6 weeks. I also stayed in Nakuru, the fourth-largest city for quite some time. One observation I noted in my diary was that hip hop is still largely a Nairobi thing. In the other cities, hip hop is still trying to edge its way in, but it is still not the dominant type of music.
My Observations
I grew up in Nakuru, the fourth largest city in Kenya, though I always spent most of my school holidays in Bondo, a town near the shores of Lake Victoria in the western part of the country. This part of the country is largely inhabited by the Luos. The Luos, who live around Lake Victoria have a strong musical culture. Perhaps this culture finds its best representation in funeral rites, although the emergence of dance parties at the village level has also enhanced the musical culture. Personally, I believe that the practice of playing loud music in general in Luoland was largely a by-product of playing music at funerals and other festivities.
In the old days (as near as a generation ago), girls and boys were not allowed to interact at all. They would only do so at dances and other activities that were organized for that purpose – interacting. And the funeral ‘parties’ as well as the dance parties at the village level help meet this function. In parts of Luoland where traditions are held in high esteem, music played in funerals is still strictly traditional. Played with traditional musical instruments – not quite a good ensemble though, mainly consisting of drums and other local instruments including the orutu and the nyatiti, both of these stringed instruments – such music was generally accepted by everyone, including the older folk. This type of music goes by the name ohangla. My part of Bondo district falls into the more liberal group. As far back as 15 years ago, little ohangla music was played at funerals. Instead, loud benga beats blared from one ridge to the other. Luoland wasn’t and isn’t yet politically – correct, so no one would complain about the loud music. Moreover, anything done in honor of the dead was beyond reproach. And that’s how I got to know how benga sounded.
Brought up in a strong Christian background, my dad allowed us to listen only to gospel music. In addition to that, he had only one Traditional Nyatiti tape. That’s the only taste of secular music we had at home.
In fact, the culture of blaring loud music has spread so much in not only Nyanza province, but in Kenya as well. It is common to have all ‘music studios’ – actually, music shops – blaring loud music to beckon customers. The blaring of big speakers often welcomes anyone to towns in Nyanza province, the lakeside province that covers Luoland. The louder a music store can play music, the better the prospects of his speakers being hired for a dance.
I had not talked about dances.
In the village, there were no dance halls. Instead, dances would be held in so-and-so’s home. They’d just hire big speakers and the dance was set, taking place in the open after darkness set in. Somehow, everyone would know that there was a dance at so-and-so’s place. If you weren’t privileged to know in advance, the sound wafting from one ridge to another would always invite the party-savvy individual to the dance homes. And remember, no one would still complain about the noise, though these festivities were not related to funeral rites.
I must say, however, that these parties contributed largely to a high level of sexual immorality at the village level. Not just in my District, but in most of the districts in Nyanza province. So much that there are times the Provincial Administration tried to clamp down on those dance parties to reduce the incidence of HIV-AIDS for which this region bears the infamous distinction of being the most-affected area in Kenya. In fact, many of the best-known party-goers in my village are already dead and many of them are infected with the deadly virus.
While hip hop is a new phenomenon to the country, it was quite a surprise to hear hip hop tunes blaring across a ridge in one of those dance parties. But in the next few days, I got a treat to several hip hop tunes blaring from the village ‘music studios’. But the spread of hip hop is still very low compared to the overwhelming approval of benga music, which sounds authentically Luo. Benga bears close resemblance to the lingala music from Congo. I’m not sure if lingala influenced the growth of benga, but as you might have deduced, lingala remains the second-most popular music in the lake region occupied by the Luo. These are, however, my own estimates.
There is however, another class of music which is famous in its own right. A form of chanting, the Luo generally referred to it as nyatiti. The prominent voice of a soloist would almost drown the sound of his instrument, at least if it wasn’t drowned by the enthusiastic drums and other jingles. This form of Luo chant fused with Western-type hip hop to produce a distinctly-flavored African type of hip hop music which finds its best expression in the vivacious rap duo of GidiGidi MajiMaji.
The GidiGidi MajiMaji rap duo are best known for their smash hit single, Unbwogable, which began the unofficial Kenyan anthem during the 2002 election year. They’ve since risen to a continental stardom that is the envy of many Kenyan artists. Though the current most high profile artist in the domestic scene, Nameless, once referred to them as “chart visitors” in reference to their penchant to releasing hit singles and then waiting for several seasons before releasing another piece which often became a hit, it is true that this group is a repository of talent. The United Nations Habitat program just recognized them as messengers of truth for their contributions to humanity. In a glowing tribute, a UN-Habitat communiqué noted the contribution the song Unbwogable made to the political scene in Kenya: “[the song] represented for most Kenyans the struggle, the intimidation and the fear they had endured for years under the former regime.” No wonder it was an immediate hit with Kenyans.
The song indubitably remains the most popular song in Kenya ever. The immense popularity it garnered was phenomenal. In an interview, the duo intimated their views on what genre their music fell into. In their view, the song was popular because most people could identify with chanting. In fact, all the hit singles performed by the group, Ting’ Badi Malo, Atoti, and now the Unbwogable have all been distinct in their fusing of traditional Luo chants with modern beats to produce what most music listeners refer to as “vibrant, authentically-African music”.
But singing in vernacular languages what the rest of the world would still refer to as hip hop music wasn’t a GidiGidi MajiMaji innovation. Credited with that honor was hardcore rapper Hardstone who catapulted into fame in the second half of the 90’s before moving to the US. Apart from the difference in language, his rap tunes would still pass for American hardcore rap. In his footsteps would follow the music group Kalamashaka whose Fanya Mambo single catapulted them to continental fame as evidenced by their topping the continental “Channel O” music channel chart show severally.
These pioneer musicians had difficult childhoods living in the backwaters of Nairobi and it is the need to get out of this cycle of poverty that spurred them to sing themselves out of it. Most of their music talks of the difficulty of life in the ghettos, but also of the importance of the cooperation of everyone to reduce the cycle of poverty experienced by the country.
On the otherhand, there is an overwhelming demand for songs that “make people feel good”. The most high profile musician in the country, Nameless, who sings a range of music from hip hop to afro-beats fused with raga, says his intention has always been to make people feel good and to forget about their problems. The first time, I heard one of his hip hop tunes, I was immediately latched to it. It was the carrion call for Nairobians to party, and sure they did, raising the profile of his budding flower. It is interesting to note the approach of these two musicians to the problems facing the country. Nameless, who comes from the more privileged class chooses to sing people into forgetting about their problems while the more hardcore Kalamashaka prefer to tell people about what it means to live in the ghettos and their views on how people can assist in alleviating the problems. I just wonder why Kenyans stopped listening to good music and opted for the ‘feel good’ therapies. But I think I’m also a victim. Would you like someone to repeat you the problems you have when you can surely do nothing about it? Not me.
In the course of the study, a fellow research associate, Hillary Mutisya, got to talk to an upcoming artist who complained that the Kenyan music industry (but mainly the hip hop industry) was gradually becoming the preserve of the rich at the expense of talent. According to him, one needed money and not talent in order to succeed. And some facts speak to this.
While many top musicians in Kenya sing hip hop; reggae and other types of beats are represented at the top. In fact, it is becoming common to have musicians switching from one genre of music to another to get hold of the upcoming market. For instance, the best music group of the year, Necessary Noise, sings reggae, rap and hip hop tunes.
The gospel music market has traditionally been larger than the secular music market due to the strong conservative Christian background of the country. In fact, as one gospel musician notes, people like listening to the secular music on radio, but when it comes to gospel music, they buy the CDs. The hip hop revolution also already caught up with the gospel music industry and though it was widely opposed by the conservative Christian establishments it soon acquired a huge following. In fact, the 2002 joint winner of the Best Artist from East Africa at the continental Kora Awards, Henrie Mutuku, received the award for a hip hop tune. The song, Nakuhitaji, was quite inspirational but for a non-Swahili speaker would yet pass for a secular hip hop tune. In fact, the upcoming trend is to create danceable gospel music to serve a growing market of youth eager for a way to relax out without having to go to drunken, unruly and often sexually-charged atmosphere found in secular parties. There’s also the call to have “Christian” dance halls, and already, the first Christian dance party already took place in Nairobi.
We can’t also underestimate the role of FM radio stations in popularizing hip hop music. From none in the late 90’s to as many as 18 presently, their bent to playing hip hop music (initially foreign music), served to popularize this type of music amongst the youthful population, and later, when they started playing locally-produced tunes, it made the local artistes house-hold names. It’s important to note that more than 50% of the Kenyan population is below 24.
But as I said at the beginning of the article, most of the news in Kenya still happens in Nairobi, while the rest of the country lags behind. But still, most of the Kenyan population stays in the country-side. Actually, hip hop is still largely a phenomenon of the cities, in particular Nairobi. The rest of the towns are still largely affixed to the traditional tunes of those regions. For instance, while students at the University of Nairobi were diehard hip hop fans, students at Egerton University off Nakuru were largely reggae fans. But hip hop is definitely still making inroads into the country-side. As the UN-Habitat recognized, hip hop is not just ”a musical genre but a social movement against globalization” and in my view, a means through which the youth speak out. And the youth still need more avenues for speaking out against being ignored in Kenya’s political, social and economic agenda.
The Kenyan youth still need avenues for talking freely about sexuality and relationships and partying. The Kenyan youth still needs a way of freeing themselves from the patronizing attitude most of the older genres of music. And as long as these conditions apply, hip hop will continue to be a growing phenomenon in the country rather than a dying fad.
The Development of Hip hop In Kenya:
A report to the African Hip hop Research Project at Harvard University
By. H. Mucheru Mutisya
Introduction
Music is a powerful tool – serving as a mode of self expression, recreation and easily available forum for social/societal commentary.
In the present time, perhaps no genre is growing as fast as hip hop. Every musical genre is substrated in some culture (or sub-culture) and serves as the outward expression of that social grouping. In its case, hip hop is born of urban youth life. It has easily found a home in urban centers around the world, mostly among the urban poor.
Upon a cursory examination, one finds that hip hop is not unary in nature. It occurs in several incarnations and to appeal to different (or sometimes the same) listeners. The first, probably earliest form is as the voice of the oppressed. The music’s lyrics on poverty, struggle with authority, clash between the wealthy and the poor as well as messages of hope (“Baby please don’t cry/ you gotta keep your head up/ even when the road is tough/ never give up”)(Tupac Shakur) make it easy for those in urban areas to associate.
In its other incarnation, the music talks of wealth – bling culture – women, big mansions, never-ending parties and the like which is a somewhat selfish message. The artists brag about their lavish lifestyles, which are quite disjoint from those of their listeners. One wonders then why the audience keeps buying such records. A plausible reason would be that it provides momentary escape for the listeners from the conditions that surround them. Another would be that the listeners associate with the artists and when the artists make it big, the listeners feel as if the artists do it for them, or are some manifestations of possible selves (“had it been me that day and not him, I would be the one out there”). As evidence of this, you will find artists have most devout following in their growing up neighborhoods (not so much where they currenty live) and in neighborhoods much like their growing up homes.
These two incarnations, which I will refer to as social-message music and party music are by no means the only ones. Among the categories outside my categorization is the diss tracks – artists going toe-to-toe on the microphone.
So far, I have presented a rather rosy picture of the music. We cannot forget the messages of violence and crime that are common in rap music. It is claimed that the music encourages crime in its justification of it or even at times in glorifying it.
Motivation for research
The American Hip hop scene has been studied to a considerable degree – with conferences held and papers published on the sociology, musicology, psychology and other fields of knowledge surrounding the music. Its counterpart in Africa has received considerably less attention. There was doubt as to whether what was in Africa was real hip hop... would the music stay alive when transplanted onto foreign culture? What kind of mutations would occur as a result of the foreign-ness?
At this point, I must confess that I did not listen to much hip hop in my pre-college life. I grew up in rural kenya and the music was viewed as urban (more correctly Nairobian) and only the urbanites or urbannite-wannabes listened to it. The first kenyan records I listened to were from cds I had received from my friends as going away gifts when I was leaving for college in the United States. I had come to love this music, at first admittedly for its ability to link me to my home. As I kept listening to it, I started appreciating its art, and comparing it with the American hip hop I had all around me.
When Lidet Tilahun, founder of the African hip Hop Project at Harvard recruited me to research and document African Hiphop, I was understandably excited.
In addition to my desire to continue my amateur comparative study, Lidet’s extensive research and knowledge, I came to learn that rap had African roots in Senegalese griot tradition. It struck me as fascinatingto track the feedback loop on how Africa was reacting to its old creation, I was hooked. I got my camera, list of contact and research guidelines from Lidet and headed home to conquer, record and bring to the world the new culture of Africa’s cities.
See video…
THE STORY OF SAM DIOP: A REAL DAY IN THE LIFE OF AN AFRICAN
By Okechukwu Warigbo Iweala
At times in the discussions, literature, and organizational-speak addressing the notions of failed education and employment opportunities in Sub-Saharan Africa, the terminology obscures the individual humanity of those forced to struggle.
I traveled extensively throughout Dakar, moving from the most expensive, residential areas like Dakar-Fann and Sicap Mermoz where ambassadors and government dignitaries reside, to the outlying “banlieue,” like Diameguene where the working classes live in crowded, and at times very polluted conditions. One day in Grand-Yoff, a neighborhood of la banlieue, I stumbled into a telecentre across from the gleaming Saint Paul Church, looking to make a phone call, searching for the headquarters of ENDA-GRAF.
In Dakar, telecentres are ubiquitous, serving as a means of direct employment for individuals and a quick, and relatively simple way to make money; but for a small rate one can have reliable domestic and international phone service. However, the omnipresence of telecentres speaks to the larger problem of youth unemployment and the absence of job opportunities. Somehow, after I made my phone call, I began talking with Sam Diop. He explained to me his very difficult predicament: at 28 years old, graduating from highschool and gaining acceptance to Cheikh Anta Diop University, the national university, he had to stop going to school as he lacked money for books and his family could not even eat. Conditions thus forced Sam to make a choice students in the United States and other developed countries for the most part avoid, the choice between daily existence and education. Yet Sam also has been accepted at Cuyahoga Community College in Ohio, and has been waiting for three years for some form of transport and tuition payment, some form of exchange to United States so that he could begin his education and thus better conditions for his family. Fluent in English, I learned that Sam had already used his skills in aiding the Day in the Life of Africa project, the book featuring photographers shooting scenes of regular life from all across the continent, in part to de-exoticize Africa, and just capture its natural, mundane beauty. Yet, after working with members from the team of American journalists in Dakar and in Morocco, Sam watched them depart, with no sense of how he might better the immediate conditions for himself and his family. A Real Day in the Life of an African features the “lifeboat” choices that individuals like Sam are forced to make. Too often tourists and organizations arrive, rely on individuals like Sam for guidance in the real Africa or visions of exploitation—Sam recounted stories of his dealings and escape from Europeans involved in prostitution and drug trafficking—without necessarily placing the structures to aid in local development.
After treating me to a mixture of freshly milked Senegalese milk and wheat, Sam and I discussed his impressions of the politics in Senegal and opportunities for employment. For Sam, as for many young men throughout Senegal, rappers like Fou Malade, Positive Black Soul, Darra J, and Pee Frois speak the truth about the corrupt government officials who send their children to Europe for school and drive European cars while at home. Sam yearns desperately to complete his higher education so that he can transform his life and the life of his family.
It seems that a simple knowledge of the problems affecting African youth like Sam mandates some type of conjunctive action; the African Hiphop Research Project fosters exchange programs to aid by connecting students like Sam with partner institutions throughout the United States, facilitating in providing the education for groups of African students and generating a small stipend to support their families in Africa. The project also facilitates simple fundraising events designed to aid individuals like Sam.