Sarah Mitaru : Voicing the Heart of Africa

Many who are familiar with the Kenyan Afro-fusion scene have discovered a gem in the sultry vocals and lyrics of Sarah Mitaru. If you have not yet heard her music below is a track that urges peace in Africa called: Stop the War

Just so you can hear what the buzz is about Sarah, here are a sampling of reviews

Drum Magazine,  a leading commentator on African artistes and events noted:

The first time Sarah Mitaru got a lot of publicity was on January 19, 2007 when she performed at the launch of Eric Wainaina’s album Twende Twende at Alliance Francaise Gardens. Sarah was backed by Wambu Mitaru and 2005 Kora Award winner Neema Ntalel (who along with two other backup artists have been fondly nicknamed The Spectaculars because they all wear glasses). Sarah and her backup team recently performed during Urban Legends, a monthly concert held at the Carnivore that showcases various Kenyan artists.

Sarah is a gifted vocalist whose range and command of her genre are enviably the most striking parts of her performance. She has performed in Kenya, the UK, and soon, is set to travel more sharing her music and her passion.

For those of you who are fans of Papa Wemba, she captures the track ‘Rail On’ LINK HERE

Have not seen this songstress in concert yet?  Watch “Stop the War” below.

Sarah Mitaru - Stop The War (Click Here For Video)

Dressing Africa, Dressed in Africa and African Dress

What would make for best dressed African? Would it be well coiffed microbraids or plaits, an African print outfit and some sandals. That is for women, and for men, should you always be seen in a dashiki shirt or some other flowing attire, preferably with beads. As many writers on Africa have pointed out, there is a language behind saying that you are writing about Africa, and it often involves strong prints representing what region your interviewee or subject is from.

The media would have us believe that Africa dressed up is a child starving, or crying in an ad for Aid, an HIV+ mother breastfeeding her child with flies jostling with the hungry child for her breast. The ‘I am African” campaign shows African as celebrities dressed in body paint, and touting their Africanness in the fact that we all have the same essential DNA, a biological fact. Biology also shows us evolution, and we know that is not universally accepted, as is the fact that we are all African. Wearing African, and being best dressed African is not as simple as Kente influenced jewelery on a young girl, you and I both know that. Walk with me through a few ways I have seen Africa right where I am.

Africa Dressed in an African Fete
Mrs Owiri.* is a long time staffer at the firm where I am spending my summer as an apprentice. Two weeks ago she had a lavish 60th birthday celebration. She is a beloved member of the Nigerian community here. She invited an African American female colleague, T’Shawna* to her celebrations, and the invitee reported this story to me. Apparently, T’Shawna had never before seen an African party. To those who are unfamiliar with the flair and pomp that our brothers and sisters from Nigeria carry into their celebrations, you may never have witnessed some of Africa’s finest. T’Shawna had never in her 40-some odd years witnessed the vibrant bright reds, yellows, the fine jewellery and well heeled folks that the birthday matron had invited. She marvelled over the delicious fufu, tasty egusu soup and the complemetary party favors at the celebration. The room where the party was held had been transformed into an African village, complete with a high-life band and African music spun by a well known African DJ. This was Africa, dressed for fanfare in America.

Africa Dressed By TV Special Report
I am of the school of thought that many black people in America can trace their roots to Africa, whether via the Caribbean or otherwise. In fact, a new documentary featuring Kenya’s own premier female rapper Nazizi, called ‘Africa Unite‘, looks at the role that we have in creating the united African world. Bob Marley sang a song titled the same which asks us to consider that we are from the same place.

Hence as I live in the US for this time, I cannot help but see what dress the African descendants have been traded. Studies on the making of the African Diaspora illustrate how the legacy of slavery is passed on to every black child born in the United States today. If the abolitionists resurrected today, would they really believe that slavery was over? Many black men lie in chains all day, imprisoned from a young age, many black women and families are imprisoned by their resource-poor communities and black children wake up every day to violence in the buses they ride to school with and go to classes that teach them little of tangible value. For many black people in America, this is the dress you have been left.

CNN, the world’s leading news network has created a series that looks at the being black in America, no doubt driven by the very real possibility that Barack Obama may well be the next prez. If you can catch the series, please do see what being black African American black in America really means

African in the Subway
If you ever have the unique fortune of living in and around MD/VA/DC area, you have probably ridden the Metro rail. If you have spent time in public transportation, notice that people never, ever speak to each other, ever. One learns to keep to oneself, and the only window to another person is when you start watching others around you. There are a lot of Africans going to work, and this time, the word African refers to people I see as I go to work who look more like Kenyans back home than you can imagine.

There is the mama with her two kids taking them to day care sporting all western clothes, except for a unique skin carving on her shoulder, the vaccine scar many people born in Africa bear almost from birth. She betrays no sign of having lived in Africa, her Americanese English is flawless. If you lok around the crowd on the Metro, you will see the African professor. There is one gentleman, who rides the same Metro that I do, and whose bespectacled fact lined with years of training betrays his role as consultant to a thinktank in the area, because we are on school vacation tight now. He carries his drycleaning home, lots of shirts, and I figure that his family lives elsewhere, maybe. His breast pocket bears heavy weights, his subway card and some pens, it reminds me of the economics prof at my Kenyan small college, after a long day at work. These are Africans dressed in the subway.

Africans Re-Dressing

I, like many Africans am a taught categorizer. Thanks to growing up with black Africans such as myself, with just but a sprinking of Asians ( South Asians, that is) and white people, I can tell someone is black and African very easily. Since arriving here, the definition is much expanded. What does an African face look like to me now? Well, it is like our school’s tennis and badminton instructor who came here as a tennis pro from South Africa, she is Caucasian, or my American friend, the Chinese-South African who grew up very near Kruger National Park and my gal from Ghana, who went to a secondary school at a high school which sounds remarkably like mine.

If we are to stop being labelled as poor black Africa, we have to recognize that the way we dress ourselves shows, the way we perceive who looks African and who does not makes a difference, and we have to shape up for ourselves as Africans all over the world. We have to realize that this issue of poverty, is our own, but that we had essential strength before the slavery, colonization, neo-colonialism, globalization and other world systems made us seem poor.

We have to wean our children on a diet heavy with world knowledge. Make the strong kingdoms of yesteryear come alive. Make the road that our forefathers tread clearer. Tell them about the modern heroes, have them write their own short stories, not teaching them about John and Jane, but of the Mekatililis and Koitalel arap Samoei’s and Dedan Kimathi’s who fought for freedom. And for those who are in the west, tell them about everyone back home. Pledge to them to make a united Africa. Call them by name, name them after these heroes, let them inherit more than a system. Build a village for your children to grow up in.

And if you think you cannot do anything as a solo being, ‘consider the impact of being alone with a single mosquito in a closed room’

I shall leave with that part of my missive written, and go to get dressed, and thank God that I know about dressing Africa a little bit more.

*Name changed to protect privacy

June Highlights!

Greetings and salutations,

This month has proved extremely insightful. It started with my reconciling my old trusty computer to the recycle center, because after years(3) of faithful service, a random incident left her incapacitated and she was no more. Enter Lady Dee, named for the royal Princess of Wales, whose high value did not detract from her ability to respond to the lowly people and needs of her world. She is a spry young gal, who has taken well to my tinkering and downloads and general online theatrics. May she live long and continue to be strong.

I joined the work force. I had previously posted that Nameless ‘Salari’ was a song that captured my heart as I thought of those who work very very hard to have a decent living. And then I began. I love love love my job, awesome supervisor. I take this Sunshine to the office every day and I have met some dedicated folks whose contributions to health in this country cannot be tallied.

Ushahidi: The project won the Netsquared Challenge

The project started small, locating incidents in Kenya, and then has been voted one of the top ten start-ups to watch. Our world is fast becoming a zone of conflict and hopefully one where there can be some solution through sharing information. Good job Ushahidi team!

Then, we need to start asking what happens when children get caught in war: Kenyan children were allegedly abducted and tortured in this AP story. We must remain vigilant and consider the application of the Childrens’ Act 2001 to protect the children in these turbulent times.

Happy Father’s Day

I watched today here as families celebrated Father’s Day. I live far away from my own Dad, but the day is no less significant for me, as a child of one dad, who has benefited from the wisdom of uncles, cousins, friends, workmates, acquaintances, pastors and neighbors too. Today, after services, a three year old said to every man that he would see near him, ” Happy Father’s Day” in a small voice with a smile from ear to ear and a hug for the men of the congregation. It was deeply moving.

In the train, on the way from the service, there was a man with a heavy bag who stood on a train where there were other seats. He looked uncomfortable, but stood, probably considering that for many of the people on the train, a heavyset olive complexioned man might frighten them, in this intolerant region. Many of the people on the train eyed him nervously. I offered him a seat next to me, and he began to tell me that he was headed for the Hard Rock Cafe for a good lunch. Turns out he was a serviceman on shore leave away from his family in Puerto Rico and wanted to have a decent meal for Father’s Day. He wistfully recounted his search for a baby supply store to go and get supplies of a certain kind of baby food for a friend stationed in Sri Lanka, who could not get that particular brand in local stores in Colombo, the capital. To him and other father’s away from their young ones, happy Father’s Day.

A friend put on his ‘away’ message, ” To the man who taught me how to be a man, happy father’s day” The best gift that a father can give to their child is to teach them how to be responsible members of the society. I can always tell who among the people I meet has been influenced by a strong father figure whether a grandpa or uncle or otherwise and those who were not paying attention during those early lessons. I say, to every man who has affirmed the dignity and worth of the women in his life, happy father’s day!

To all the single parent dad’s. To those who coach teams. To those who have mentored me. To those who have prayed with and for me. To those who protect and preserve our society. Happy Father’s Day.

Ageing, Alums and Attitudes

This weekend, all roads lead to the college campus for that one most revered of traditions, alumni weekend. My charges these last three days were the lovely ladies of the class of 1938 and 1948. For those whose math is challenged they graduated when they were 22, which makes them…crank that mental calculator…92 years and 82 years respectively. For shame so many of us young ones were struggling to keep up with them, not me, though, I used to hang with grandma when I was home so I was well covered. They are so at ease, I am learning the secret to a long life, do remember and be thankful for your blessings, and do not sweat the small stuff. The two oldest ladies live on their own still and they are so spry and happy with all the fussing we are doing over them.

I believe that the attitudes on ageing are so different here and at home. Here, in the US, nobody can imagine growing into a grey haired old lady, whereas at home, many of our mothers and grandmothers are the most regal when they are older. Of course widely accepted African culture assigns greater meaning to the older members of society and they get respect, are seen as sages, and are taken care of as major assets to the community. I want to be older in Kenya, where many an older person’s counsel is valued and cherished.

In these parts, an older person is maltreated and ill cherished. See the large number of old people’s homes, the number of older homeless people, and the way gray hair, wrinkles and age indicative effects are rejected wholesale by the vast majority of the people here. I would hate to be aged here. Even some people start the age conversation very early with their teens, with some mouthy young ones threatening to place their parents in homes when they are older when the parents threaten to revoke a privilege that the child has abused.There are no old people in ads except for drug company advertisements, over-65 ads and gardening ads. Its rather sad.

I think of my own grandma, and how she is cared for by her children and grandchildren and I am thrilled for her. I want to celebrate her wisdom, relish her yummy food and hugs and kisses for many more years and I want to have her advice in my life. Even if she were not as close to me as she is right now, I would never put her in a home, nor would I make her pay rent to live in my home, yes, that happens here…Gasp!

So wont you age gracefully today?

Update:

This week, I have been in research mode and I am happy to note that I am 25% ahead in my goal to raise money for breast cancer research here through the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation. The last few days have been phenomenal with the fundraising. I am so encouraged. Although there is a long road ahead for many of the people who are here, I am assured that we shall make a dent in the research dollars needed for breast cancer research. Why am I doing this, you may ask, if you are a new reader to the blog, you have to know what my mantra is. I believe that the money we raise will raise the early detection rates, bring us closer to a cure, and celebrate the lives of my friends, co-workers and family who have survived breast cancer, as well as those who are now angels. I am painfully getting fit, refusing to give up and growing along the way.