Mizizi Yangu

It has always puzzled people when I tell them my ethnicity. Whereas I was born and raised in Uganda and my father is Ugandan, my mother ensured that I am a racially, ethnically, and varied person. (some would say confused) Although being born and raised n Uganda as well as Kenya, from my mother I receive Tanzanian, Irish, Greek, and Ugandan roots. It is important for me to a own and celebrate all these aspects of my identity. Recently, I've been most fascinated with my Ugandan and Tanzanian roots. It is this fascination that has led me to my decision to learn Swahili. The language of my family and ancestors. A language that rolls off the tongue of my mother and aunt a they attempt to recapture childhood memories. The language in which my Tanzanian grandmother learned to smile. Swahili has been whispered in grass thatched huts, cried on battlefields, and echoed in parliaments. It is spoken by over fifty million people, across the eastern coast of Africa and beyond. Among these speakers are much of my family. In the Sankofa performance that I was in last week, there was a poem rected which dealt with kniwing one's histiry and carving out one's identity. It is impossible for me to carve out my identity without speaking the tongue of my ancestors. My parents were responsible enough to ensure that I learned Luganda before another language. Because of this, I have always felt welcome in the Buganda culture and have never strayed from my Bugandan roots. Now, in an attempt to connect with Tanzanian culture, I hope to learn Swahili and carve out my roots.
My roots: mizizi yangu.

Sankofa: Looking back while moving forward?

This year I partook in Sankofa: Black history month performance for the second year in a row.
The culmination of our work will be on Thursday and Friday of this week.
The productions have consistently been a wearing and rewarding experience. However, as I continue to invest my self in the celebration of a history, I can only help but question the morals of my devotion.
Before I began taking part in the Sankofa show, I had already had strong sentiments on the issue of black culture and history. Whereas I respect all history and culture, and think it important remember she celebrate, I can only wonder if in the world we life in today, there is still room for cultural lines divided by color.

Unfortunately, slavery and segregation imposed a racially separate for the majority of US History. Regardless of its beginnings, It would be unfair to ignore the centuries of black history and culture that have taken place on US soil. It is important to remember and celebrate the good parts of history. That's where shows like Sankofa come in, however. Now that many of the racial chains that previously held us back have been lifted, it is our responsibility as humans to address the not woo good parts of our history.
In think that in order to progress as humans, we should promote the division of culture and society on the basis of common belief and interest as opposed to race.
Due to the unfortunate history of this country (and the world for that matter), it is impossible to ignore that there is a black history, but in order to ensure the harmonious future of this country, the beauties of black culture and history should be extended to anyone who relates to its message abs moral, regardless of freed and color.

Life in Silver Spring

For the latest video challenge we were meant to capture life in Silver Spring. For the first time we were allowed to partner up. I worked with Jasper and we focused on the proximity to Washington D.C. and the diversity as some of the best parts about our area.

In the Dawn of Death

"The optimist sees the rose and not its thorns; the pessimist stares at the thorns, oblivious of the rose." (Kahlil Gibran).

In this respect, the thorns of death are sharp enough to turn most into pessimists while the flower of life passed, is beautiful enough to turn pessimists into optimists. This beauty, in my opinion, is the power of unity.There is nothing greater than the power to bring people together, and in a world that is so firm and divided, death has the ability to break the walls that separate us as people. At a funeral, politics don't mater, wars are irrelevant, all the worlds conflicts are out the window. In that moment, all that is important is the good that has come from any particular person. Funerals are not about dreading death, but rather celebrating life. Just as it has the power to sharpen the thorns of a rose, death is capable of brightening the flower; the power to turn pessimists into optimists.

In this sense, your life will never be as important as when you lose it. If someone were ever able to touch everyone on earth, in the dawn of his/her death, the world would for once be in a state of perfect harmony.

Something From Nothing: The Art of Rap (Review)

Renowned rapper and now film director Ice-T has joined forces with producer Paul Toogood, and co-director Andy Baybutt, along with dozens of Hip-Hop icons to create one of the most thorough and encapsulating documentaries in Hip-Hop history.

The film begins with an establishing narration by Ice-T playing over shots of various shots of New York. (the birth place of Hip-Hop) This introduction very effectively establishes s the theme and purpose of the documentary, which is the unlikely spawning of Rap and bringing to light the effects and Hip-Hop music and culture. It then kick starts the over 2 dozen interviews conducted through the movie, starting with DJ Grandmaster Caz and going through the likes of Run DMC, Kanye West, Raekwon, Common, Nas, Snoop Dogg, and Dr. Dre, among countless others. Since the film focuses on the "art of rap," each artist interview includes an acapella rap performance. The film is framed around the several sub-genres that exist within in Hip-Hop. There is a constant back and fourth between the definitive sounds and culture of New York and Los Angeles. The contrast between these two scenes helps capture the culture in its entirety. Producer and co-director, Ice-T made the decision to insert himself into the production. Rather than use the traditional question answer interview scheme, the film captures Ice-T casually talking and socializing with the interviewees. The whole movie is very casual; which I like. I think that it protrays a friendly, brotherly,and solidarity aspect of Hip-Hop, something that was integral upon the forming of the genre. The film closes with concluding monologue by Ice-T, again over shots and images of New York and this time Los Angeles as well.

Personally, I would recommend the film. I think it very effectively captures the culture and essence of Hip-Hop as well as highlight the artistry of the genre; which is often overlooked. The film focuses on the poetry that exists in rap. I think this is very significant. The filmography, especially in the B-Roll is exquisite. I commend the creators for taking time to focus on that key element. I could have done with a little less Ice-T and it would have been incredible if the verses performed by each artist somehow tied in to the overall theme. I was also disappointed not to see significant artists such as Jay-Z. Other than that, the film was great and I recommend it to anyone who has a genuine interest in Hip-Hop or music in general.

Title: Something from Nothing: The Art of Rap
Length: 111 minutes
Rated: R
Rating: 4 out of 5

 

The Graceless Limp of a Befuddled Fox

A few weeks ago, I wrote a review of K'Naan's third and latest studio album, "Country, God, or the Girl." In the review I criticized Somalia native for ineffective features and an overall ingenuine feel as he strayed from his usual subjects and inspirations, to a more pop and Top 40 worthy soundscape. I was not alone in my sentiments. Millions of fans worldwide were discontent with the straying sound and fleeting poignancy of their beloved "Dusty Foot Philosopher." In yesterday's Issue of The New York Times, K'Naan addressed these issues in an introspective essay about the age old tension between success and artistic truthfulness.

The essay begins with a Somalian fable about a fox who had a beautiful walk but lost it in an attempt to imitate the walk of a prophet. After he failed to match the prophet's gait, he finds that he had forgotten his own walk and was left with the unremarkable way the fox walks today. K'Naan proceeds to explain how he, the fox, was pressured by his record label and the music industry as a whole, to imitate the walk of the popular artist and as a result, forgot his own once beautiful walk.

Censorship is any artists worst nightmare, and K'Naan suggests that in the interest of success, he was forced to censor himself. Before recording the album, his record label had urged him alter his style. They didn't tell him what to do or give him specific choices but rather " raised [a question] in the quiet of [his] soul." Was success worth separting from his lyrical and artistic identity? In a desperate attemot to alter his walk, he was jammed in a corner of self censorship, that left "bruises on the unheard lyrics of [his] yet-to-be-born songs." Whereas his previous albums are strongly inspired and centered around Somalia, this latest release strays away from his usual artistic and lyrical chakra. On "The Dusty Foot Philospher" he spoke of his cousin Mohammed who was left in the war zone of Somalia on the account of insufficient funds and on "Troubador" he sang longingly of a lost love, Fatima who was shot and killed in mere adolescence. Those extremely emotional and powerful anecdotes are unfourtunately, exactly what the general public doesn't like. "Radio programmers avoid subjects too far from fun and self-absorption." As a result, K'Naan's subjects shifted from memories of war to school bullying and drug use. The Islamic and Afro-Centric names of his childhood mates where given western alternatives. "Mohammed became Adam and Fatima became Mary." 

"One cannot hide his historical baggage. His sense of self. His walk," he concludes. In this essay, K'Naan is more aware of himself and has greater appreaciation for his genuine sound. After being unable to match the gait of the music industry, this befuddled fox is desperately trying to rediscover his own stride; and although he may never find his "old walk again, [he hopes] someday to see beauty in the graceless limp back toward it." 
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/12/09/opinion/sunday/knaan-on-censoring-himself-for-success.html?_r=0

Life and Death at the Main Hall

Over the years, I have heard endless family stories which I am continuously amused and amazed by. The surreality of many stories is incredible and I often feel as if the scenes are taken from books or movies. This is one of the more commonly told stories  and one of the many memories that my grandfather had of the notorious Idi Amin Dada.

The scene is Kampala, Uganda's largest and capitol city. It is a sunny afternoon in August 1977 , and  a 51 year old Senteza Kajubi has just returned from an overseas business trip. It had a been a long flight and his wife, Elsie was urging him to rest up for the work week ahead. Senteza contemplated this, but is fixed on popping in a the office, seeing as he been gone for so long. He had a hunch that something big was going on.
He left their home on the Makerere University campus and walked to the NIE (Natioanl Institute of Education), a building that he had built with a grant from the Carnegie Foundation. As he walked around the campus and building, he realized, significantly less people about. The whole campus was dead. When he finally found someone, he asked where everyone was. They told him that the president, Idi Amin,  was giving a Speech at the Main Hall. As he made he approached, he saw masses of people crowded outside the Hall. It was completely packed inside but there were speakers outside, projecting the presidents deep, powerful voice.
It was odd for such an unexpected visit so Senteza was naturally curious. Amin didn't seem to be saying anything warranting a personal visit but Senteza hoped for a surprise: and  that's exactly what he got. After standing outside for a few minutes, Amin said something that caught Senteza's ear. From out the loudspeakers, the president announced the immediate removal of Professor Joseph Lutwama from the position of Vice Chancellor. What followed was the surprise Senteza was waiting for. Out of the loudspeakers, in heavy broken English, Amin stated that in the University's best interest, the new Vice Chancellor, would be non other than William Senteza Kajubi, effective immediately.
Appalled, the young Professor maneuvered the dense crowds and made his way inside and to the stage. There he met the tall and burly Amin who proudly shook his hand and formally presented him the position. After the meeting, Senteza rushed home and told his wife the news. It proved too much for her to embrace. Frantically, she prayed and devised outlandish plans flee the country. Idi Amin was the most ruthless leader of the time and  anyone working under him was gambling with their life. His eccentricity lead him to act often act violently and irrationally. Senteza calmed his wife and explained, he had to take the job, knowing very well the danger it prevented.
For the next few days, Senteza sat in his armchair and thought silently. Had he not been at the assembly that day, Amin would most have most likey irrationally ordered his death. If he were to refuse the offer, he would no doubt be killed. The decision seemed simple, but even  in accepting the position, he knew that  death was always a possibility.