Anikulapo's Ghost:   African Music Power!
By Kangsen Feka Wakai

The myriad images that have instructed my generation's worldview and formed the bulk of our conception of reality were very contradictory--warfare outgunning peace, greed killing generosity, terror over compassion, guitar loops over grenades.  

I am a child of the eighties.  

Music is the Weapon!

Seun Kuti &   Bandmates at Chicago's Millenium Park Stage

I had this in mind when I went to Chicago's Millennium Park one Thursday afternoon to see the heir to one of contemporary Africa's most luminous musical dynasties--The Anikulapo-Kuti dynasty, knowing the pivotal role they've consistently played in articulating the aspirations, sentiments and frustrations of possibly an entire continent.  

Fela Kuti, pioneer overlord of the dominion understood the function of music as medium for social dialogue and fodder for spiritual nourishment.    Music became his weapon of choice against a tyranny that was as shortsighted in its vision as it was in its judgment.     The Pharaoh Kuti's numerous incarcerations have been widely heralded but his vitriolic lyrics are timeless and are still capable of churning the inflated bellies of homebred demagogues and their neo-imperialist cronies.      

Francis Nyamjoh and Jude Fokwang have already surmised in their study of politics and music in Cameroon that music, 'pregnant with political meaning is there to keep hope alive in the face of current [political] setbacks.'

Their conclusion invokes what Sule Greg Wilson suggests in his narrative, The Drummer's Path, where he writes,   "Music is sacred...it is the invocation of vital energies that ensure a community's survival.   Music helps maintain harmony within the visible and invisible world."    

Seun Anikulapo-Kuti is Seun Anikulapo-Kuti.   He is not Fela Anikulapo-Kuti.  

When he first saw the light of day, Mandela was still in Jail, the conflict in Angola was still scorching and Mobutu did not imagine himself other than being eternal god of Zaire, his silhouette, a fixture in the clouds.   When Seun was born, the HIV scourge had just raised its monstrous head; Reagan's shadow reigned over the jungles of Central America.    In fact, when Seun was born Museveni was still in the bush.   When Seun was born, music, in its different variations, intent and purposes was the only reliable armor to the exploited masses of African people in the continent and its Diaspora confronted with a sophisticated adversary, cunning but malevolent, greedy and merciless.   When Seun was born, Hip-hop had already transcended the confines of its birthplace; it was spat from sound systems in the Caribbean to the grimy streets of the Bronx.   Boom boxes began transmitting transatlantic messages to the streets of Dakar, Paris, London and Nairobi.   Music mends broken bridges.    

Across the African continent and its Diaspora, along the chaotic bevy that are commercial street corners, in dilapidated off-licenses, studios, villages and churches, musicians immersed themselves in this ancient alchemical process, redefining their realities, reclaiming their voices and fighting the power!  

Show Boy, Egypt 80 saxophonist and close confidant of   Fela, an Egypt 80 since the seventies attested: "We did it for the people and we believed in Baba." When it comes to Fela devotees, Show Boy has company.    It was only after attending a Fela tribute party in the Boston area in 2005 that I really began to appreciate the scope of Fela's impact.   About two thousand people packed this hall, which I later found used to be a church, repeating the words to Coffin For Head of State . A massive altar was made in his honor at the entrance.   

Anyway, Show Boy is in his late fifties but moves like a twenty eight-year old, no body fat, chiseled muscles and a medium frame.    Running back and forth on stage during sound check, Show Boy, trumpets directions with the authority of a schoolmaster.  

"I cannot hear my keyboard...raise the drums."

He confesses, raising his fist that this music thing was never about the money, never, he insists.   He said unlike in the west where people have access to instruments irrespective of their economic circumstance, in Africa the musician, castigated by the bourgeoisie as losers, must struggle to afford an instrument.   And if he or she succeeds in acquiring that instrument, he must surmount countless impediments before achieving expression that is empowering, inspiring and genuine.