Kajwang’ and the legacy of protest music

As we prepare to bury a master in the genre of protest music – Senator Gerald Otieno Kajwang’ – let us take a moment to cast his art within emerging trends in Kenyan popular music.

Prior to the 2002 General Election, few politicians had had the nerve or the flair to jump onto the stage in unrestrained song and dance.

The post-independence tradition revolved around choreographed choirs and women’s groups singing songs of praise to what increasingly became a one-party state.

A few examples veered off this track with protest anthems to comment angrily on defining moments such as the curious deaths of various leaders – Tom Mboya, JM Kariuki, Kung’u Karumba and Robert Ouko.

Other moments of protest song accompanied inhumane incidents such as the destruction of Nairobi’s Muoroto slum in 1990.

The subsequent push for multi-partyism generated a new catalogue of choruses.

Most of them never grew beyond chants and we are that much poorer, as a nation, for not having a properly catalogued archive of these ingenious creations which were driven by the heat of the protest and the enthusiasm of the crowds at Kamukunji and Uhuru Park. Chants like “mambo ni yale yale” and improvised hymns such as “yote yawezekana (bila Moi!)” remain engrained in some of our memories as the codes that lent tangible goals to the pro-democracy movement and the promise of change in 2002.

IGNITED THE STAGE

There had been moments in that long season of demanding multipartyism when closet poets like Salim Bamahriz ignited the stage with witty mashairi. But, of all the songsters who emerged in that period, two stood out, partly on account of their contrasting styles – Gerald Otieno Kajwang’ and Mukhisa Kituyi. Kituyi was the king of modified zilizopendwa.

He substituted the reckless, plate-breaking wife described by George Mukabi in “Kweli Ndugu (sikilizeni niwaambie)”, with Moi whose management of the economy had left the nation in near-ruin.

Dr Kituyi’s delivery – perhaps on account of his professorial personality but maybe also on account of the drabness of the subject of economics – was never comic. It was the kind of dry satire that makes you sit up to untangle the meaning behind a wiry smile.

But it was very effective campaigning for the way it deflated the larger-than-life image that Moi had built for himself. Kituyi paralleled the state of the nation with images that everyone could relate to – an untidy, clattered kitchen in the hands of a laggard housewife whose lazy ways leave her open to the meddling of her in-laws.

When Otieno Kajwang’ took the microphone, bemusement grew into thunderous laughter. Everything – his animated face with dilated twinkling eyes, his agile dancing and his booming voice – urged the crowd into believing in the urgency of now! Change could not wait and the right to demand it prevailed over every other need.

CONTINUED SINGING

After that momentous 2002 election, it was almost impossible to get Dr Kituyi singing on the stage again. But not so Kajwang’. He animated the referendum rallies of 2005 and 2010 telling everyone that the mere change of faces at the top did not amount to a revolution.

One of the legacies of the successful fusing of popular song and politics in the 2002 election was the appetite that government agencies developed for roadshows, complete with musical entertainment. When these songs are borne of the creativity of the artist, they stand a fair chance of becoming both critical and commercial successes.

But like the charity songs made famous by Sir Bob Geldof and his fund-raising for the Ethiopian famine, Darfur and now Ebola, sponsored songs can be terribly drab. The tunes are invariably rushed and mechanical and the message-driven lyrics lack poetry, wit and catchy memorability.

As music journalist Bill Odidi recently asked me, “Just how much value do we get from songs like the katiba CoE tune by Suzanna Owiyo, Sauti sol, Achieng Abura et al? Does anyone remember those songs?”

How much did the defunct Committee of Experts spend on this bogus communication strategy when all that they needed to do was to give Kajwang’ two quiet days to add three verses to his already famous “Bado Mapambano” anthem, and record it for free Internet downloads and cellphone ringtones?

The ability to make others smile is a priceless gift that Kajwang’ had. He lit the fire of rebellion with grace and robust humour.

In Kajwang’s honour, we should focus on the positive and find time to bring a smile to those around us.

Dr Nyairo is a cultural analyst – [email protected]