CHINUA ACHEBE : 50 YEARS SINCE FIRST NOVEL

..."Things fall apart;
The centre cannot hold
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.”

With this quote from "Second Coming" by the Nobel Prize winning poet, William Butler Yeats,, Things Fall Apart, the first novel of Nigerian writer Chinua Achebe was published in 1958.
50 years ago.
When I was a sixteen year old back at Ilboru Secondary School that historical book was one of the few (the very first few) to have a profound impact on me. Mainly because we had a great teacher, Mama Victoria Chitepo exiled from Zimbabwe -who opened our eyes to literature, other parts of the world and what Achebe was trying to say. The story of Obi Okonkwo a village wrestler with a strong character who crumbles during the coming of the Europeans in Nigerian society really fascinated us.
I recall some of the more funny classmates like Albert Kanuya, a natural gifted comic (nowadays a consultant publishing editor in Dar es Salaam and still a humorous gentleman) jostling with Amalinze the Cat, one of the characters in the novel. We seemed to live in the book. It was like a real place for us.
When you are a teenager you just gulp, swallow and take in knowledge. When made possible (like it was thru Mama Chitepo) you have real, good fun.



...Playing music with classmates ( also great fans of Achebe's novels at the time) middle Rashid Othman and the late Mike Kiwelu in 1972. Pic by Emmanuel Yuda.

I was struggling to learn the guitar to express myself. My late father an extremely skilled musician had inspired and encouraged me (he and my mother recorded few songs at the same time Achebe was writing the said novel, in Mombasa, Kenya).
Yes.
I eventually read more writers dealing with similar themes and by late 1970's was working as a reporter and columnist. Come 1980’s now in my twenties I was composing music, writing songs and performing professionally with Sayari Band.
In 1985 I read Ngugi wa Thiong’o the Kenyan writer commenting about the ongoing Live Aid concert in London in 1985. He questioned whether charity was a solution to Africa's problems...
I had similar thoughts so I was suddenly inspired.
We were touring in Scandinavia with Sayari when I began writing “Song of Ethiopia.” I performed the song at a concert in Stockholm in memory of 100 years since the infamous Berlin Conference chaired by Emperor Otto Von Bismarck of Germany. It was this conference that initiated the scramble for Africa and colonialism in 1884.
Only now do I realise how Ngugi’s interview and Achebe’s "Things Fall Apart" indirectly influenced my lyrics. The sense of history, the fallacy of neo colonialism.
In 2000 I recorded “Song of Ethiopia” in Constipation.
This week a conference on Achebe’s novel fifty years anniversary is on at Brunei Gallery, SOAS in London. Kadija George is part of the organising which will feature various writers who like myself got touched by this eminent Nigerian.

FROM THE BOILING PAN INTO THE FIRE...

This month (of June) the respected broadcaster and writer Darcus Howe, impressed me with a short piece regarding teenage murders in his London’s The Voice, column (“Vex in the City”).
Giving an example of his recent holiday in the Caribbean he broadens the subject by citing youth killings in Trinidad, Barbados and Jamaica. As he returns to the UK headlines scream the same chilling problem(29 murderers so far in 6 months). YOUTH MURDERS ARE A GLOBAL PROBLEM, he reminds us.
“The Caribbean, Latin America and Africa have produced a mass of young men who have taken to killing each other like ducks to water…They are casualties of an increasingly globalised world that offers them nothing but a disconnection from values of the generation that preceded them.”
In other words values that we of past generations learnt (and still, luckily upheld) are out of reach with this feuding, green generation. Of course throughout history young men have had fights. But this is different. Children are scared. Parents are worried...in the old days there was honour, kids used fists; you defeat me, i accept; today it is about cemeteries. No winners.
Bad vibes. Full stop.

But what are the values that Darcus Howe is talking about?
Humility, respect, good manners; which youngsters learn via respective parents, religion, school and community education.
Today the young see (and have) more possibilities, opportunities and information yet lack stability (broken families); broken politics and role models some who are themselves, broken celebrities. Celebrities with ragged egos, drug addict entertainers, arrogant entertainers some so stupid that they happily pass their rubbish to these eager hero worshipping youngsters.
Remember the young fella with a hood, hanging pants and a sulk playing his loud music on his mobile phone in the bus which irritates you but you (impontently) cannot do anything? Not because you are scared of him (a baby) but of the law, the consequences of, lack of citizen's power, common sense...
One such "hanging pants" confessed to me. When he listens to rap music it (sometimes) makes him feel like ripping someone’s head off. In other words: Inspired Aggression. Negative Energy. Some of today's Pop Music has become substitute to that essential basic education. For good manners, good behaviour, etiquette, respect.
And hence.
You stare at me, I stab you.
You give me bad looks, I stab you and END your life.
You step on my foot, I KILL you.
That is one story.

The other is Aserma Dawitt.
A promising 15 year old school girl from Eritrea, in East Africa, killed in London beginning of June. Arsema was living with her mother and two siblings, having fled the fires of war in her homeland to find solace, peace, education and a possible future in Europe, but met her death in a lift of her flat(pictured above). Arsema was a remarkable student who went to church, devotedly. Ironically, it was in the same church that she met her 21 year old, killer who became obsessed with her.
The mother of the deceased criticised the police for not protecting her victim after informing them of the threats.
There are thousands stories to tell.
Loads.

African Youths visit UK

You know what?
They came.
Brought by the British Council.
Youths on a study tour.
I met them at Ramsay Hall, University of London, Thursday 23rd August, 2007.
British Council has always been at the forefront of education across the world. While still a young reporter in the 1970’s I used to benefit a lot reading global newspapers, borrowing rare- to- find film documentaries and even audio cassettes from the British Council Library in Dar Es Salaam. BC has always been an invaluable source of information, free of charge, clean, decent, accessible.

You know what?

You hardly see this angle living in the UK, however, it is those overseas, those studying (and struggling) who benefit. Historically, this world wide knowledge house was began in 1934 to propagate British values in a neutral sense. Just to give you an idea. You find BC in 233 cities and towns through 109 countries. It was awarded the Communications and Humanity Prize in 2005.
So they came.
They visited London.

I received a phone call from the African Community Partnerships (in New Cross, South London) to entertain with live music and poetry. Usual expectations. Prepare a few songs pluck in my guitar, get my Djembe drumming ready. A gig to entertain young people between 16 to 24. I had a repertoire of World Music songs plus rap tunes which I would drum along with fellow musician Gwang, of Kitoto Band. But….

You know what?
I was in for a shock.
It has become a worry.
Young people in hanging trousers, panties and bums peeping out; hoods, moods and attitudes. To entertain them is an uphill task, I am always doing it in schools and prisons. I have witnessed teachers being called the four letter word. I have seen teachers in tears. I have heard teachers wishing they had more powers…
My audience this evening was however, from Nigeria and Tanzania.
No sooner was I settled then these guys and girls were saying hello, shaking hands, asking to have a drum to accompany them, very communicative.

Hamis Kassim, (dancer-dramatist-singer), myself Blogger, Farida M. Ashu (stand-up comic), Michael Dalali(photographer),Sanyu the singer, dancer and poet (partly hidden) and footballer, Omary Wahabi.

They were so easy going; cheerful, so different from youths growing in the so called developed world. It was an eye opener. We spent hours singing, playing and dancing. Each of them had a specific talent. Here were dancers, dramatists, stand-up comics, poets. By the end of that Thursday evening in August, one thing slithered up my mind.
These might have been unusual, free spirited entertainers…but…
Young people are fun.

The news we consume of attitudes, guns, gangs, drugs, rebelliousness, knives and such negative stuff is only a small part of the equation. And something else. Youths from Africa can teach all of us, especially the youth here, in the Diaspora and Rich World, a thing or two. Fun, humility, respect, hope and what else? That being young is still the most beautiful thing… Not something we look at with exasperation, trepidation and fear each time we see hoods, sulky faces, hanging trousers, peeping knickers and smell whiffs of Ganja and skunk.





Felista Rugambwa or as she is known, Sanyu, from Tanzania recites her poem entitled "Africa"....

The two stand-up Nigerian comedians and storytellers, Stephen Oguntayinbo and Farida M. Ashu mesmerised everyone with their funny tales.

18 year old budding footballer, Omary Wahabi, told his audience how young people make their own balls out of recycled paper and rubbish. He has high hopes both for himself and Tanzania's Taifa Stars who are currently second to Senegal in Group 7 of the Africa Cup championships due to finalise in Ghana, January 2008.

London youths were represented through the creative and unassuming Jesse, who also presented a short play with his mates and benefited from the mutual educational exchange .

Plus some of the adults who had to see it all going according to plan.

Gerson Oloo (right) Director of African Community Partnership flanked by DJ and engineer, Eric Ochola, both from Kenya.

Musician and percussionist Gwang (Grenada) who accompanied me under the banner of Kitoto band.

Last but not least, to document the occassion through photos and video, Sam Jenkins from Kenya.

Yoruba's Talking Drums

Father and Son,
Busy on stage.
Father and Son playing the Doum Doum... Most of us know it as the West African “talking drum.”
Father and Son are Yoruba speaking.
Yoruba the language of Nigeria.
The language of the music called Afro Beat which the flamboyant musician Fela Kuti made so famous.
Father starts to teach the crowd a song...the song is easy. The Yoruba section of the audience, jubilantly, joins in. It is a count. I am told later it is a numbers songs called Iyeyewa. One to ten . Eni! Eji! Eta! Enrii! Anrun! Efaa! Ejee! Ejo! Eson! Ewaa!
As we chant the numbers Father and Son rumble on with their talking drums. The crowd loves it. After a while Father says his 9 year old Son will teach us a Yoruba song. The crowd is really grooving...
Now Father says Son will sing. Son says hello to the crowd. Crowd loves it. Son plays the Doum Doum.
Again.
Tell me.
What is a “Doum Doum”?
Before the mobile phone came, Africans had talking drums. They were means of communication. This is, seriously speaking, classical music...
A while passes and I am talking to the Son. His name is Ayanlakin...so proud of his drum and the guidance of dad, Mr. Ayan Ayandosu.

…and it got me thinking.

Where do you see Fathers and Sons celebrating life together these days? What with the current trend of our un-guided (and mis-guided) young males, not so pretty, large, menacing hoods, scowling (but innocent) faces, trousers hanging down thighs as if ready to do a pooh, (a big s...), any second...thinking it is heroic!
So far as we speak Nineteen young people killed by other young people in the UK, this year.
Sons need Fathers. To be a good man, a son needs his dad.
And there is nothing better than what i saw.
Where was this?
Barking. At the market by the railway station. East London.
Friday 17th August, 2007. You might have missed them but here they are.
If you want to hear good talking drums and are thinking of where to get one. You could hire Mr. Ayan Ayandosu and his son Ayanlakin. Phone (+44) 7956-482148.
Or (+44) 7960-877447.

I guarantee you won't be disappointed.

A photo from the past

Everyone was a teenager once…
Ilboru Secondary School, Arusha, north Tanzania, Autumn 1972.
We are all studying hard.
Main O levels exams are around the corner. We have just done sports, showered, now we are breezing in the late evening sun with tea mugs; waiting for dinner, then prep.
Prep meant more reading, more digging, more books.
Everyone wanted to do well and pass.
Ilboru was highly regarded those days with teachers from all over the world. You couldn’t be a lazy pupil and be at this school…You had to have very excellent grades to come here.
Boarding schools are intense places. We would be there for almost five months, away from home. The bondage amongst the young is incredible.
If you look closely you will notice we are all wearing jeans the new “bad boy” trouser of the early 1970’s. We would swap into bell-bottoms when going out to dance and meet the girls…
I was in a gang. The gringos. But the word gang didn’t mean guns and knives. It meant sharing similar tastes. Music, dancing, sports, arts, hanging out. Four years of sweet youth. A few months after this photo was taken by a boy named Emmanuel, I never met these guys again. In fact almost all of them have vanished from my life. Meciri, with glasses on the right, I heard, died. Bandido the second, was shot in 1981 in very mysterious circumstances. Actually, I was with him earlier that day before his demise. I had not seen him for nine years. He was a charismatic guy and you can tell by the way he is standing; like a model. He had been abroad studying and he was doing well.
Tony, on my left, passed away, last year.
I am the shy guy peering into the tea mug. What the hell is inside that cup? A fly? I was very broody. Really into myself, my music and my writing.
I don’t know what happened to Miro (from Zanzibar) staring into the distance, standing on my right. Although the soft spoken Miro was older and a class ahead, he loved hanging out with us, juniors.
Youth is a strange time and hanging out, the ultimate good time.
And what about Emmanuel the photographer? He was the unofficial multi-talented snapper of the school. Rarely spoke, always chuckled, patient, a budding bio-chemist. Never heard of him, never saw him ever since.
And those trees, behind us. Under them was a lovely stream. I can still hear the water dripping and chirping birds, wow...singing. Arusha has one of the most lovely scenes and retains wonderful landscapes, wild game tourist reserves, lakes and mountains. Serengeti where the famous "Lion King" Hollywood film story is based is not so far away from here. Beautiful Arusha is today the most expensive region of Tanzania.