Check this out! I have had a hard time containing myself even as I write. That is because I am listening to some gems from Kumalo.com African Music Online. Here you will have the joy and pleasure of listening and viewing the full video clips of current pop and traditional music from the Great Lakes— including in Acoli, Dhuluo, Luganda and even Madi, etc. And, it is free! I have no idea what the business model is, but there is something about Lonely Hearts!
While many of the videos are relatively low visual quality Kumalo.com and associates are on the right track. Some of the dancers look really trashy, but there are a few gems.
The oil smooth voices of Mariam Ndagire, Lady Namu Mariam and Sarah Zawedde stole ma (sic) heart. They are in the league of the greatest crooner of all times: the one and only Rochereau. Lady Mariam’s story in Tinda Tine brought memories of the writer’s own adventures in the bush while tending cattle in his youth days. You wish you understood the language to get the unfolding love affair. But not to worry—you will get the idea!
Nya Pajule, Ruphina D’Nyeko deserves a special mention for her Cuna Kara Tek and Alcoholism. Her poetic ability shows up in lines such as “Ogwalpok ojem i kum twol. Twol ojem i kum Ogwalpok” Interpret that!
Our sista, Chelina in Madi Home Boyz was to be expected--a disappointment. Some cultures and languages should not try their hands at modern pop—pure and simple. I couldn’t see the video to the end. Check it yourself.
Another disappointment to me was Bosmic Otim. What is that military fatigue outfit all about? The gangster look and the bloodshot eyes may be appealing to some of his fans. In Politics of Revenge, which is what greets you as you enter the website, I thought I was listening and seeing a re-incarnation of Lucky Dube. Bosmic, if you are going to borrow, at least be creatively subtle about it. However, I have got to give to you: the message in the lyric is apt and poignant.
I have not checked the Gospel Music page. If you are into that kind of music, check it out.
I have saved Coltekwaro for last. It also has its own section, and most of the video contents are new shots. If you have Coltekwaro DVDs, you will notice some old clips of Aguma and Pawidi Boys. A funeral is a heavy topic, but the clip of the funeral dirge will haunt you awake and get you off your fanny to kick some dusts.
Click to get HTTP://KUMALO.COM
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
What Obama Has Done to Black Men
I parked my bike and continued to lock it when a young white damsel walked from the store to hers. She hesitated, moved about ten yards and began a stretching athletic routine. I all but ignored her presence.
Then as I walked passed by, she asked, “How is your day so far?” It was filled with such warmth that I was at a loss. I smiled and mumbled something and walked into the store.
I never dwelled on the incident—dismissing it as a chance encounter. As I was riding back home, and enjoying the evening breeze, I saw another young white girl sitting in the front steps of a house in the neighborhood. She waved her hands to say “Hi!” Of course, I waived back.
Two in a row? It got me wondering. You have to understand my neighborhood to appreciate. The city has been described as the whitest large city in the US. My neighborhood, that previously had the largest percentage of black folks, has been gentrified and many have moved to less expensive locales of the city. Before the gentrification many whites dared not come to North East of town. When our office was moved to the East area several of my workmates asked for security protection. Even my Jewish girl was hesitant in coming to the area until she eventually felt comfortable enough to buy a house in the area.
Now, I have a sense that white people when they meet me wonder what I am doing in what they no longer call the hood—exemplified by a neighborhood street festival which dissed the description “Festival in the Hood” for “Neighborhood Festival”—a subtle statement of having got rid of gangs, hookers and niggers.
Not again! I was jogging today, minding my own business, and then I hear a greeting from across the street, and turned to see another young white female.
What is going on? I asked myself as I tackled the Hill of Death. Is it my personality? Have I suddenly become a Casanova? That can’t be it. Then it occurred to me that Obama might be the cause. Suddenly I think the debonair well-spoken Obama is making all of us black men seem attractive. Is he debunking the myth of the black gangster who is up to no good?
Then as I walked passed by, she asked, “How is your day so far?” It was filled with such warmth that I was at a loss. I smiled and mumbled something and walked into the store.
I never dwelled on the incident—dismissing it as a chance encounter. As I was riding back home, and enjoying the evening breeze, I saw another young white girl sitting in the front steps of a house in the neighborhood. She waved her hands to say “Hi!” Of course, I waived back.
Two in a row? It got me wondering. You have to understand my neighborhood to appreciate. The city has been described as the whitest large city in the US. My neighborhood, that previously had the largest percentage of black folks, has been gentrified and many have moved to less expensive locales of the city. Before the gentrification many whites dared not come to North East of town. When our office was moved to the East area several of my workmates asked for security protection. Even my Jewish girl was hesitant in coming to the area until she eventually felt comfortable enough to buy a house in the area.
Now, I have a sense that white people when they meet me wonder what I am doing in what they no longer call the hood—exemplified by a neighborhood street festival which dissed the description “Festival in the Hood” for “Neighborhood Festival”—a subtle statement of having got rid of gangs, hookers and niggers.
Not again! I was jogging today, minding my own business, and then I hear a greeting from across the street, and turned to see another young white female.
What is going on? I asked myself as I tackled the Hill of Death. Is it my personality? Have I suddenly become a Casanova? That can’t be it. Then it occurred to me that Obama might be the cause. Suddenly I think the debonair well-spoken Obama is making all of us black men seem attractive. Is he debunking the myth of the black gangster who is up to no good?
Meritocracy is as Acoli as Dek Malakwang ki Layata
From 1986 to 2005 Uganda lived under the Movement system—a no-party government that banned political parties and was meant supposedly to curb sectarian tensions. Elections were done on individual merit—meritocracy—with no party affiliations.
Among other grievances against the government it is this meritocracy that goosed many an Acoli. To them meritocracy was equivalent to selfishness which they dubbed Pira Kena—literal translation: for me only. The suggestion seemed to be that meritocracy was foreign to Acoli and was being imposed from without. But, was it?
All indications, however, seem to suggest that meritocracy is as Acoli as Dek Malakwang ki Layata—a favorite Acoli dish.
In all Acoli clans succession to clan chiefdom—Rwotship—was based mainly on talent, and not on any measure of hierarchy in the chiefs’ courts. Thus even foreign adventurers who wondered into some courts sometime became chiefs.
The British came and found an Acoli population with young men eager to prove their individual mettle in the King’s African Rifle—dubbed Keya in Acoli. These men did not disappoint the British with their discipline and allegiance to the master. And this was to prove itself again and again in successive governments after the British were long gone.
Missionary schools and the few government schools, which then became the crucible for training Acoli young men and women rather than the family and clan, emphasized the notion and recognition of individual talent. And the products that became clerks, teachers and latter-day politicians all worked for individual excellence to please their employers and their immediate family. (Family in this context may include extended family).
If anybody is impressed with Phds and other wanabe educated, Acoli has an impressive relative number—a testimony to individual talent and merit. Acoli politicians and other leaders were weaned on individual merits. Let us accept meritocracy as an Acoli fact, and may be—just may be—we can begin to learn to pool the talent resources for the greater good of Acoli.
Among other grievances against the government it is this meritocracy that goosed many an Acoli. To them meritocracy was equivalent to selfishness which they dubbed Pira Kena—literal translation: for me only. The suggestion seemed to be that meritocracy was foreign to Acoli and was being imposed from without. But, was it?
All indications, however, seem to suggest that meritocracy is as Acoli as Dek Malakwang ki Layata—a favorite Acoli dish.
In all Acoli clans succession to clan chiefdom—Rwotship—was based mainly on talent, and not on any measure of hierarchy in the chiefs’ courts. Thus even foreign adventurers who wondered into some courts sometime became chiefs.
The British came and found an Acoli population with young men eager to prove their individual mettle in the King’s African Rifle—dubbed Keya in Acoli. These men did not disappoint the British with their discipline and allegiance to the master. And this was to prove itself again and again in successive governments after the British were long gone.
Missionary schools and the few government schools, which then became the crucible for training Acoli young men and women rather than the family and clan, emphasized the notion and recognition of individual talent. And the products that became clerks, teachers and latter-day politicians all worked for individual excellence to please their employers and their immediate family. (Family in this context may include extended family).
If anybody is impressed with Phds and other wanabe educated, Acoli has an impressive relative number—a testimony to individual talent and merit. Acoli politicians and other leaders were weaned on individual merits. Let us accept meritocracy as an Acoli fact, and may be—just may be—we can begin to learn to pool the talent resources for the greater good of Acoli.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Favorite Books of the Month
1. Please Don't Remain Calm--Michael Kinsley
2. Fate of Africa: A History of 50 Years of Independence--Martin Meredith
3. God is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything--Christopher Hitchens
2. Fate of Africa: A History of 50 Years of Independence--Martin Meredith
3. God is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything--Christopher Hitchens
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Kenya’s Grand Coalition versus Uganda’s NRM Umbrella Government
Mr. Museveni of Uganda is a master at using symbolism to portray his messages—his book, Showing the Mustard Seed; his party’s symbol of the yellow bus; his Bonna Bagaggawale (Prosperity for all scheme); his assertion of bringing “fundamental change” which has now turned into “No Change” chants by village peasants; and the list goes on and on. These symbols are crisp, catchy and custom made for the peasantry population who are less likely to reflect on the what, where, who, and how.
One Musevenian symbol that stands out is the NRM Umbrella Government where everyone competed in elections on so-called individual merit—not on party affiliations. By definition, all political parties were banned and all were NRM candidates, and subsequently NRM elected official holders. Any political party, if it existed by name, could have a headquarter in the capital but could not open branches in the rural areas lest the peasants be “confused”. There in lies the genius of the symbol. Supported by one of the three cooking stones (another Musevenian symbol)—the army—the NRM was practically entrenched. When political party hacks and well-intentioned Museveni associates realized they had been duped, it was too late. Now it will be a long road to dislodge the mighty NRM.
At the official inauguration of the Kenya’s Grand Coalition the amazing Mr. Museveni declared in his characteristically haughty ways that Kenya has come full circle to the NRM experiment. But has it? Kenya’s Grand Coalition is a government of equals. Kenya’s population has not yet been brought to its knees by war and deprivation such that it is going to be hypnotized by one crafty individual. If the coalition holds, Raila Odinga will emerge the big honcho—not by delivering a bill of goods a la Museveni, a.k.a NRM—but by delivering concrete and measurable dividends. That is the difference.
One Musevenian symbol that stands out is the NRM Umbrella Government where everyone competed in elections on so-called individual merit—not on party affiliations. By definition, all political parties were banned and all were NRM candidates, and subsequently NRM elected official holders. Any political party, if it existed by name, could have a headquarter in the capital but could not open branches in the rural areas lest the peasants be “confused”. There in lies the genius of the symbol. Supported by one of the three cooking stones (another Musevenian symbol)—the army—the NRM was practically entrenched. When political party hacks and well-intentioned Museveni associates realized they had been duped, it was too late. Now it will be a long road to dislodge the mighty NRM.
At the official inauguration of the Kenya’s Grand Coalition the amazing Mr. Museveni declared in his characteristically haughty ways that Kenya has come full circle to the NRM experiment. But has it? Kenya’s Grand Coalition is a government of equals. Kenya’s population has not yet been brought to its knees by war and deprivation such that it is going to be hypnotized by one crafty individual. If the coalition holds, Raila Odinga will emerge the big honcho—not by delivering a bill of goods a la Museveni, a.k.a NRM—but by delivering concrete and measurable dividends. That is the difference.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Sunny and Beautiful Saturday
At a popular river-front at the city center with my bike behind me. Click on Picture for Larger ViewingToday was such a rare sunny and beautiful day in as many months in my locale. I slept in late. I read something on the Bhudda and started on The Fate of Africa: A History of 50 Years of Independence by Martin Meredith. It is a fascinating read. No wonder, mention of the so-called Pan Africanism sends most of us, Africans yawning. I will write my thoughts soon on how one can operate, inspite of the African super-predators, and prosper mentally, spiritually and materially.
Back to today: I went and made some phone calls for Obama at the local HQ. Then rode my bike down-town along the river.
Overall it was a great day. How was yours?
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Let us go to Sota Afrika
The Winter Blues got you down?! It doesn’t seem like Spring in this part of the world. The daffodils have sprouted in my yard, but the sky is still dark and it doesn’t do justice to the colors springing around. So, what has a man or woman to do? My friend, UK Joe was lucky to have had to skip town for a working jaunt in Acoliland. Talking to him last night he was all pepped up—ready to tackle the last leg of his Phd—lucky son of a gun!
Yes, the Winter Blues; one cure are two ladies—I don’t mean in that way, you pervert. These ladies can warm a dead cold fish to rise up and swim—yes, even jump. You have seen fish jump, haven’t you?
Grab your favorite brew. Mine is black tea with two drops of honey and a dash of lime. Now, shift gear, kick back and let yourself ease into blessed week-end with sensual audio experience.
The irrepressible, raw, wicked and heart-throbbing township beats of Brenda Fassie will do something to you. Try Namokhanjani and Vulindlela.
Then take a stab with the uppity Yvonne Chaka. Do it with Who’s Got the Power, Mama Land, Umqombothi or Let Him Go.
If these women don’t do you, try Lucky Dube. All can be found in Congo Central to your right. If this is slow to get what you desire, just click on here View my complete profile and/or just here click on Audio Clip
Yes, the Winter Blues; one cure are two ladies—I don’t mean in that way, you pervert. These ladies can warm a dead cold fish to rise up and swim—yes, even jump. You have seen fish jump, haven’t you?
Grab your favorite brew. Mine is black tea with two drops of honey and a dash of lime. Now, shift gear, kick back and let yourself ease into blessed week-end with sensual audio experience.
The irrepressible, raw, wicked and heart-throbbing township beats of Brenda Fassie will do something to you. Try Namokhanjani and Vulindlela.
Then take a stab with the uppity Yvonne Chaka. Do it with Who’s Got the Power, Mama Land, Umqombothi or Let Him Go.
If these women don’t do you, try Lucky Dube. All can be found in Congo Central to your right. If this is slow to get what you desire, just click on here View my complete profile and/or just here click on Audio Clip
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Hillary the Movie(Pt.1 of 10, EXCELLENT quality)
Hillary, as some see her. Is this the real Hillary?
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Another Dysfunctional Afrikan Family-Zimbabwe
Yes, it is a given, and rightly so, that land re-distribution was a priority for Mr. Mugabe. However, it is also a truism that shrill confrontational politics is a losing game with those who are more powerful than you are.
While Mugabe led an armed rebellion against whites and won after a long potracted war of attrition in which many blacks died, the nuances of land politics called for different tactics. While it may have been the easy way to achieve his end by confiscating white farms, in the end he lost with devastating consequences for the blacks he wanted to help.
Now, Mugabe is hanging on to power because he is afraid of his shadows. His hangers-on are protecting their rare-ends by propping his rule. In the end the cerebral guerrilla hero has turned into another African buffoon.
While Mugabe led an armed rebellion against whites and won after a long potracted war of attrition in which many blacks died, the nuances of land politics called for different tactics. While it may have been the easy way to achieve his end by confiscating white farms, in the end he lost with devastating consequences for the blacks he wanted to help.
Now, Mugabe is hanging on to power because he is afraid of his shadows. His hangers-on are protecting their rare-ends by propping his rule. In the end the cerebral guerrilla hero has turned into another African buffoon.
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