Circute’s unmaking by Manyake and his return journey to God

It was an idea that came to mind as he weighed a chunk of beef in his father’s butchery, inspiring one of the most controversial songs in Kenya’s popular culture.

But more than a decade later, there is little sign that Mr Victor Gerald Wagana – the doting father of three posing for the Lifestyle photographer next to his smiling wife – was once a flamboyant rapper known as Circute, whose lurid lyrics in the hit song Juala (Manyake) sparked a divisive morality debate.

“Discussions about the song were often sandwiched between major news items featuring Raila Odinga and Mwai Kibaki on national TV!” chuckles Circute, who is now a born-again Christian.

Even though he has resigned to the reality that he will never shake off the stage name Circute, there is little similarity between his life now and then.

Mustering the best of his story-telling skills, he looks back to 2002 when the country was on the verge of a historic General Election that would for the first time remove the Independence party Kanu from power. The Gidi Gidi Maji Maji duo ruled the airwaves with Unbwogable — a song that captured the imagination of the nation and lent itself to the Opposition coalition’s successful campaign. 

In the meantime, Nonini was scheming the release of Wee Kamu – a risqué song that would rattle panicky parents witnessing an unfolding culture shock. The era of conservative afro pop dominated by Five Alive, Shadz-O-Blak, Hardstone and other artistes was fast giving way to a more audacious generation starring E-Sir, Redsan, Nameless and Prezzo among others.

Circute himself had earlier been part of an eclectic group, the Rap Community, which tore into Kenya’s gospel music space in the mid-1990s with their brazen style that included a flashy sense of fashion that was then a novelty in the genre. 

The group featured its founder Thomas Kwaka “Big Ted” (currently a deputy director at the Presidential Strategic Communication Unit), and Kevin Ombajo “Big Kev” (who runs the True Blaq events company) among others.

Circute calls it “the dream team that premiered the infusion of rap into gospel music in Kenya”.

But despite what he says was “overwhelming support” from zealous youth and a few progressive pastors, the group’s mettle soon began to melt under the heat of relentless criticism.

“We were gruesomely crucified for our music and our dressing,” he says.

Born in 1975 as the last born of five siblings, Circute was brought up in Nairobi’s Buru Buru Estate by staunch Christian parents. Not even a derogatory phrase used by his peers to ridicule his unusually light skin could put him down. The name “Circute”, he says, was a shortened version of “Circulation of yellow albino” that was his nickname in primary school.

He loved acting but his passion for rap music was dramatically kindled by a childhood friend who lent him a copy of American Rapper LL Cool J’s second studio album, BAD.

But while at Equator High School, he got saved and devoted his time during the holidays to youth activities at the Kenya Assemblies of God in Buru Buru. After high school, he joined the rap group that he believed would revolutionise contemporary Christian rap music.

BREAKUP OF THE GROUP

But the breakup of the group led the forlorn young man to manage his father’s nightclub businesses — and to a life of drinking and debauchery having been ex-communicated from his church for being part of a “demonic” music group.

“When everybody begins to doubt your salvation, it’s easy to start doubting yourself,” Circute says, adding that his love for music was never extinguished.

One day in 2002 as he was weighing a client’s chunk of beef at the club’s butchery, the manyake idea (which literally means meat, but figuratively refers to a woman’s backside) hit him. He immediately called his musical cousin Jo-el, with whom he had recorded other unreleased singles, to share the idea of the suggestive song.

They would later settle for the title Juala — the sheng word for condom. But the name Manyake, which was repeated in the chorus followed by the refrain “all sizes”, stuck.

All his friends, including his wife Cathy Gathoni, trashed the song when they first heard it.

“I just thought it was one big joke!” Cathy told Lifestyle. “I couldn’t possibly envision anyone liking Manyake!”

But Clement “Clemo” Rapudo, then a fast-rising producer whose Calif Records was engineering the Genge genre of Kenyan music, so believed in the song’s commercial potential that he sponsored its video. When the song, which Circute insists was “simply about responsible condom use”, received considerable airplay in most radio shows, the young artistes knew they were on to a good thing.

Lucrative offers for performances and media interviews soon followed — as did debate on the song with some criticising its lurid lyrics and calling for its ban.

For the next few years, the duo basked in the fame and infamy of Manyake. More than a decade since the song sparked controversy, Circute says society “totally misunderstood the song” and applied “double standards”.

“Manyake got fried while other unbelievably graphic foreign music videos were still being broadcast on Kenyan TV. I just couldn’t understand the logic,” he says.

He explains that after the song hit the airwaves, he was often confronted by people who accused him of degrading morals while others gave him the thumbs up. The musician was particularly disturbed when a woman complained of her four-year-old son’s use of the word manyake. 

“The day that lady approached me about her son’s lewd comments to his little sister happened to coincide with my daughter’s first birthday,” he says.

As a new father, he grew concerned about how the song could eventually impact on his own children.

Circute says his marriage and personal life were also disintegrating as he got engulfed in the flames of fame.

“Although I was happy for my husband’s career breakthrough, I watched him being swept away by the winds of fame. He became such a mess,” Cathy recalls.

The musician’s parents, like his wife, were also worried. Circute says his mother started praying for him, asking God to give her prodigal son a second chance at salvation.

Years later in 2009, a Bible-clutching Circute accompanied his old friend and fellow musician, Rufftone to attend a service at Rev Teresia Wairimu’s Faith Evangelical Ministries in Karen.

“I knew he had gone through a lot in his life during and after Manyake, and I just wanted to be there for him amid all the rejection,” Rufftone told Lifestyle.

 It was at the event that Jemimah Thiong’o, a prominent gospel singer, confessed she had been praying for him over the years since he released Manyake.

“She informed me that for some reason she just couldn’t stop praying for me.” Circute says, adding that he got saved on that day.

As the interview ends in Curcute’s house in Nairobi’s Komarock estate, his wife of 13 years is in no doubt about the path he has been walking in the last few years, putting teh controversial song behind him.  

“It took years for me to see any real change in him, but now he is the staunchest Christian I know! I’m lucky to have a man of God who even commands things to happen in Jesus name and they do!” she says.

Today Circute runs his family’s real estate business. He retains his interest in gospel music even though his attempt at a comeback with the song Cha Kutumaini never hit the levels he expected.