WHAT MUSIC??,,,,WHO??

Sometime after or before the ’98 El-nino rains, while living with my maternal grandma in the old dusty village, one of my neighbors’ took to brewing local beer (kaluvu) for sale to the area population. At some point many more women also tried a hand in the trade. It was a trade ran by women, married women, single women, widowed, young and aged women, fat women, thin women, silent women and loud mouthed women. They had to make a living, provide food, clothing and an education for their many children. The customers were mainly men, casual labourers, subsistence farmers and primary school teachers. Yes, teachers; the guy who taught us Agriculture in class 4 was a regular. There was also one lady, the only one who wore trousers in the whole village.
Over Christmas that year, most of the village sons who worked in various towns and cities converged at my neighbour’s place to celebrate the birth of Christ in style. They made merry, drunk, laughed and sung. The one who bought more Kaluvu for the villagers became an instant hero; they vowed that they would swear him in as president as soon as Moi stepped down or died. Hopefully this post will remind some of them to make good their promise. Some lost money and cried, while others sorted out their year-long grudges through fists and kicks.
Before and after the festivities, the drunkards used to come in the evening and stagger away before 11pm. My famous (Famous for being the best dancer in the village, its adjacent hills and beyond) cousin, Kasunda and I used to hang around the customers but keeping a safe distance lest they crush on us while teetering to the bush to wet the grass. We found their stories interesting but there was a bigger reason why we hung around them; One fellow, a late immigrant into the village, used to call himself Mbalaka Mshe.. I didn’t know then that he was referring to Baraka Mwinshehe Mwaruka, the famous Tanzanian guitarist and leader of the Morogoro Jazz band. Lovers of Rhumba may remember him for his hit, shida; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QkgsPEZ0NUg
Mbalaka always had his radio cassette when he came for his drink. This was my first close-range encounter with a radio – so you can imagine how enthralled I was. Often his stones (batteries), 3 Eveready cells would run out of power. He would leave them with us to let them in the sun the next day and they would have recharged slightly by end of day. His radio played only one kind of music; Kimangu boys’ band cassettes.
Kimangu, led by Kijana Musyoki was the leading boys’ band in ukambani then and even later, till his death in the year 2000. I heard songs that prayed for rainfall, asking God not to punish us for our many sins, for straying from our ancestor’s religious ways. Kijana had many love songs for Marieta, a girl he urged to complete school so that they could wed. He sang about Joyce Nduku (Joyce we nduku-ii watwikie mukoma nthi). Then there was Kalekye, who after sneaking from her mother’s house in the middle of the night unexpectedly encountered her mother, who had gone out of the house to relieve herself. The mother thought she had seen a ghost and out of shock swallowed her tobacco snuff, nearly dying from the resultant chocking. There was also a special dedication to Kadogo, a girl who used to dance while crying. Apparently sweetness – muyo in Kikamba – made her cry. ‘Kadogo mwa viindya,vindya!! noivangula meethoi… Wendo usu!, wa kiimangu’
On Fridays and Saturday nights we’d sneak out and go to Kamandikos (local dance) organized by a group of older boys. My cousin, Kasunda, tried teaching me how to dance to such songs though I never quite learnt to do it as nicely as he did. He was always better at learning and doing things, from Dancing, hunting, ploughing to riding a bicycle. He was everyone’s favorite, best of all most beauties in the village, and its environs, kasunda did not have to go looking for girls, they came looking for him, all types of girls, girls with big bums, girls with flat bums, girls with beautiful faces and girls who looked like men, grown up men, all types would be seen around his double room house, a house build with money from Kamandiko dances, yes guys had to pay ten shilling for a round of dance, apparently a round being one side of cassette, and this proceedings would be shared between the host, the radio owner, cassette owners and kasunda himself. Kasunda didn’t have to avail anything, just his dancing styles. The only thing I was better than him was books, which didn’t really matter at the time.

The events were preceded by Mwee (millet) and maize harvesting exercises where the host would have dried the spikes and spread on the prepared ground. The ground is plastered with cow-dung mixture and let to dry. It forms a floor free of dust or soil. The millet spikes are then spread on this plastered ground and ‘beaten’ thoroughly with long sticks to separate the grains from the chaff. After the event, the reward would be a meal of boiled maize and beans and ‘strong tea’ followed by free music for all. Green-lodge activities on the way home were plenty, explaining the high rate of school dropouts due to early pregnancies and marriages. Condoms were rare, almost unheard-of in the village. My cousin and I were barely 9 or 10 so we lacked the guts, competence and even biological capability to partake in such. We nevertheless eagerly looked forward to coming of age.
I therefore grew up loving music by Kimangu boyz band, discovering hits such as Anita, Kyalo kya Mbuani, Pole Bondia, Show ya Kitui, Asante Muambi, Lesoi, Mulipuko wa Bomu, Amina, Katimba na Ndii, Kuluta, . Through his music I heard of Kamba greats such as Kyania Kang’aatu yambasi ya Mbooni, Simon Munyoki ‘Original’, Peter Muambi. Kijana nurtured today’s leading kamba musicians among them Bosco Mulwa the one-man guitarist, John Muasa Kineene (Mauda), Sammy Kasee of Simba 2, among others. The number two Benga musician in Ukambani today (after Ken Wa Maria), Kativui admits to having been inspired greatly by Kijana.
By the time he died at 28, Kijana had released around twenty albums, all music rich in content, teachings on kamba traditions, and memories of life before information technology. In one song, he sings of how he had agreed to a girl at some place. He waited for the whole day but the girl never showed up. He wonders whether she had fallen sick, or if her mother denied her permission; something that those of us born before mobile phones will easily identify with.
Yesterday marked 15 years since Kijana died from a road accident. His memories are well stored in my music collection, and in the hearts of those who continue to enjoy his music. As Kijana Musyoki Kikumbi rests in peace, this is a call to all Kamba musicians to learn from the late legend and produce music that makes sense. Lewd lyrics by some artists make it pretty uncomfortable for many of us to listen, let alone buy their albums. Music, like good literature is something that remains in the minds of fans for long. Filling the minds of our youth with pornographic videos, moves and abusive lyrics is irresponsible and regressive.

Lets go back to kamandiko values for once