Miguel– All I Want Is You- Kaleidoscope Dream (Album Review)

Miguel is not a regular Grammy-Award winning singer. His aesthetic speaks louder than his sound—a fuse of the 90s music feel and an inexplicable futuristic vibe that probably made Vibe Magazine recently brand him and Kendrick Lamar as “The New Classics.” From his sturdy creative direction, velvety voice, naughty yet catchy lyrics like [I don’t wanna be loved, I just want a quickie) to simply how he adorns and moves in the classic black trench coat in How Many Drinks? music video; it’s literally hard to point at what’s not to love about this man.

His debut album All I Want Is You, released in 2010 was pretty solid but still wasn't impressive enough for a lot music critics. I thought it was an ode to lost R&B and probably the first sign of Miguel coming to the rescue of the genre that in a few years would be overtaken by pop. Jodeci or Shai would in this decade easily produce a song like Miguel’s Teach Me—it’s lazy sexy and slurry beat echoes Jodeci’s baby-making hit Freek'N You. Only Quickie, Sure Thing and the album’s title track All I Want Is You featuring J. Cole shone, the latter’s hip hop/R&B combi pushing both artists to topping radio charts.  My stand out tracks in this album was My Piece and Girls Like You. In the latter, Miguel sings about single-hood  There’s always that guy/girl you can’t have but will always remind you that you’re lonely. Here, his electric guitarist delivers a stellar recording. Sure Thing is my all-time favorite Miguel song, also from this album. [Love you like a brother, treat you like a friend, respect you like a lover … this love is a sure thing]. I appreciate the poetry in this masterpiece.

In early 2012, Miguel released Art Dealer Chic Vol 1 & 2 EPs. The six-tracked two-part record birthed songs like Adorn and Gravity that would later feature in his sophomore album Kaleidoscope Dream, released later in the year ( September). The album’s first single Adorn went on win him many fans and the 2013 Grammy Award for R&B Song.

It’s a dream come true to find an album like Kaleidoscope Dream that needs no skip-a-track dial. The vocal arrangements in its title track Kaleidoscope Dream give the listener a whimsical and smooth welcoming into the album’s experience. I like that here Adorn was given the entirety it deserves. The first Adorn off the EP was only two minutes long and ends even without a bridge. Anyway, Adorn has probably one of the sickest kicks I ever heard and it’s just cute for anyone to say, “Let my love adorn you.” Other Must-Listens in this album include Do You (whose video’s love interest is Miguel’s actual girlfriend Nadia –sweet), The Thrill and Where’s The Fun In Forever? (Miguel originally wrote this song for Alicia Keys and took it back when it didn’t fit into her Girl On Fire album) that features Alicia Keys only shouting “Music Break” at the rear end—bizarre doesn’t start to explain this collaboration that never really was.

How Many Drinks? 4.33

This song slowly overtook my love for Adorn as my best Miguel song off the new album. I just like its feel-good vibe and story line. Here, Miguel wears the shoes of a man in the club and in need of a lay. Unlike the old trick of buying a woman gallons of vodka, he sings [How many drinks will it take for you to go home with me? I don’t want to waste your time or my time] The message in this song is deep. I am not championing picking girls or men in the club but the policy that when you want something, whatever it may be—go for it! [I aint’ judging if you decide that you might be f* tonight] How Many Drinks? Remix featuring Kendrick Lamar is a fantastic marriage and its video –clean, classy and classic! (Check that alliteration am ill

Pussy Is Mine 3.13

I just want to know why R&B lovers crucified Brian McKnight for singing about pussy yet Miguel’s pussy song wasn’t jeered at all. It must be an age thing. It just sounds wrong singing about pussy in your 40s but which girl wouldn’t want the sexy 28-year-old Miguel singing raunchy things into her ear? I love that the naughtiest song had to be the only acoustic song in Miguel’s entire discography and absolutely hate that I sometimes find myself singing it out loud [Tell me that pussy is mine]. Do guys actually go around saying, “That P* is mine?”

Candles In The Sun 4.56

A lot of good and bad things alike happen in life; while some happen around, others are miles away. But we are brought together by the power of media and music to know of gang rapes in Syria, illegal drug trafficking in Mexico, foreign house helps being mistreated in Dubai, Kony marshaling child soldiers in Uganda and our own country’s inequality among worldly events. This song is about such times. It equates humans to silly creatures that light candles in the sun, blowing in the wind. Miguel sings [If there’s a God is He watching? Is She watching? If not, where are we going? What are we doing? … They say that we are all created equal but that’s not how we treat each other… When the sun goes down, heroes are shot; will it be too late to find out?]

BONUS: “May we all live long, may we all be brave. And the bridges we burned only light our way,” Miguel. I just reviewed Miguel’s entire discography in one post. Biggest Kenyan fan.

“After Tom Mboya”

“About a fortnight before he was assassinated, Tom Mboya changed his mind about addressing a Sussex University conference on development. Had he kept his engagement, he’d probably be alive today. For the weekend he was due in London he was shot in Nairobi. But he had written to the conference organizers crying off because of pressure of business. now his business is with history.

The conference was to have opened with a day devoted to Kenya’s development problems. But the man responsible for the economic planning lay dead in Nairobi. Instead, delegates heard a moving tribute to Mr. Mboya, which he would particularly have appreciated. He was never more at home than at these gatherings of international experts. And it is one of those tragic ironies that he should meet his end because he could not find time to attend one …”

The above excerpt from the well-written article “After Tom Mboya” was first published in the Kenya Weekly News on July 18th 1969, just 13 days after Tom Mboya’s assassination. I bumped into it while at the Kenya National Archives, last year researching on the library article  Treasure Trove: The Kenya National Archives & Documentation Services I was then writing for Goethe-Institut Nairobi.

To read the full article that has among praises for what Tom Mboya had achieved for such a young Pan-Africanist, and the shocking reality that Kenya is still tackling most of the developmental issues she was faced with over 40 years ago; just walk into The National Archives.

BONUS: The above is his statue set up by the Kenyan government on Tom Mboya street, a few years ago. It is said to be just a stone throw away from where the man died.

 

11 QUOTES from Living to Tell the Tale, Gabriel Garcia Marquez

I recently bumped into some quotes I compiled from Living to Tell the Tale, a book by Gabriel Garcia Marquez also posted a book review on the same last year and surprisingly forgot about the quotes, well till I found them. So, here are my best 11, enjoy

1. “What you need is a good woman.” For my brother Abelardo, there were no problems in life that could not be reserved in bed.

2. “If this bed were the academy and you were the student, I’d be number one not only in class but in the whole school,” An adolescence Gabriel to his cougar lover (who was a teacher by profession).

3. I do not know what in fact I learnt from my captivity in the Liceo Nacional (elementary school), but the four years of harmonious coexistence with everyone instilled a unitary vision of the nation in me. I discovered how diverse we were and what we were good for, and I learnt and never forgot that the entire country was in fact the sum total of each one of us.

4. Bored with studying, I left everything to the mercy of chance. The reality was that I did not understand why I had to sacrifice my talents and my time on courses that did not move me and therefore would be of no use to me in a life that was not mine.

5. “If poetry does not make my blood run faster, open sudden windows for me onto the mysterious, help me discover the world, accompany this desolate heart in solitude and in love, in joy and in enmity, what good is poetry to me?”—a poem by one of Gabriel’s acquaintances.

6. Stealing books is a crime but not a sin.

7. Today, trying to recount my past days, I do not find them in my recollection, and I have come to believe more in forgetting than in memory.

8. I discovered the miracle that all things that sound are music, including the dishes and the silverware in the dishwasher, as long as they fulfill the illusion of showing us where life is headed.

9. In 1953, March 6 I would be twenty-seven years old. In the midst of the good wishes of my friends, I felt ready to devour raw the seventy-three I still had left before I celebrated the first hundred.

10. We did not use a tape recorder. They had just been invented and the best ones were as large and heavy as a typewriter, and the magnetic tape would tangle like angel-hair candy. Transcription alone was a great feat. Even today we know that recorders are very useful for remembering, but the face of the person interviewed must never be neglected, for it can say much more than the voice, and at times just the opposite.

11. There are books that do not belong to the person who writes them but to the one who suffers them, and this is one of them,” of his book, Memoirs of a Shipwrecked Sailor.

Moving onto 2013

Drinks, holidays, dropping parties and panties; it’s another end of calendar, and start of endless new-year messages, resolutions and god-knows-what. It’s another opportune moment to write off the wrongs and ills of the past year, and to write anew the thrills of a promising new year.

As I bid 2012 adieu, I am nothing less than motivated and made better and stronger by my achievements just as much as my shortfalls. It was great writing. It was great getting a promotion at my TV job. It was great managing a record label. It was great featuring on a magazine cover. It was great meeting and interviewing Dwelle, Akon, Erykah Badu and Joe among others. It was great resigning at some jobs that felt like bad relationships. And as for relationships, the one or two, all undefined—were good all the same. It was great to love, feel loved, wanted, unwanted, feel like a bother and then wanted again. In all these aspects revolving around my life, the biggest lesson I have learnt this year is to appreciate myself and learn to tolerate nothing less of persons who appreciate me, themselves and those around them.

I’ve learnt that, you’re the only obstacle between yourself and failure. The same way, you’re the sole road to your own success. I am sick of people treating others (including me) like less of humans because of [their] disorganization or ignorance. I am sickened by negativity and in the coming year, I am not taking anyone’s bullshit.

I want to be like London-raised, Nairobi-born, Kuljit Bhamra, composer and producer from London. His ‘Man in a Suit’ profile in the Intelligent Life Nov-Dec 2012 issue inspired me a lot. Kuljit contracted polio at the age of one and has since been wearing leg braces, which in the 53 years that he’s been alive, haven’t dampened his spirit. “I am not really sad about my leg because I’ve never run, I don’t know what it’s like to have that, and I’m not in pain. My sadness is that life’s amazing but it’s so short. I want to see everything, but there’s not enough time. We’re really such a small event in the life of the planet. I find that amazing and glorious and precious, but at the same time deep down I find it sad,” he said.

As I march into 2013, like Kuljit, my spirits are high. And would love to inspire anyone who’s bumped into this blog post to fuck past failure or triumph; let’s make tomorrow the best we can mould it to be, having in mind that tomorrow is now. That way we have the security of always celebrating our good times and move one swiftly once we fall.

BONUS: Here are some links to some fine people, books & places I encountered in 2012, enjoy And cheers! Thanks for reading.

Tobin Jones

Erykah Badu

Ayub Ogada

Living to Tell a Tale

Leonard Mambo Mbotela

A mystery into Lord Ergeton’s castle

The Newness

The unsung joy of tomorrow haunts me. The high possibility of rising above my fall flaunts the strength in me. It’s not the length of the journey but the ability to savor every moment. It’s not always about the honey or money but also the bitter moments. For they mature the mind and tongue, the same—that they may be sane and able to differentiate between tastes that last or not. And that they may not only take it in but measure what comes in. It’s the realization that the uncertainty of tomorrow is me. And that tomorrow is now. After all forever isn’t as much fun as today or is it? So I rise.

Living to Tell the Tale, Gabriel Garcia Marquez [Book Review]

From Sucre to Aracataca, I’ve been to Colombia (solely via reading Living to Tell the Tale). The temperatures were almost always high above measure and occasionally the insomniac rain, if not storm, hit hard just to boast of immensity. But even then, men and women in long rain coats and fancy hats walked down the streets, protected by divine intervention, even more than their perfectly round-shaped umbrellas.

More than anything, this book brings out the ingenious grit and wit with which Colombians treasure Spanish, great writers and utmost—the power of literature. “The greatest invention of all must surely be writing. Despite its complicated early systems, anyone learnt it. The reason revealed in the ancient Egyptian scribal-training texts which emphasize the superiority of being a scribe over all other career choices. The earliest scribes understood that literacy was power—a power that now extends to most humanity, and has done more for human progress than any other invention,” writes Tom Standage for Intelligent Life, in the debate—what’s the greatest invention of all time?

The magic in this book, Gabriel being the unparalleled fiction writer and literature’s father of magical realism, lies in the tales of his real life, that shaped the creative writer and journalist he became. A powerful lesson is that, we can spend years, and time traveling in search of ourselves while what we were searching for all along was right home inside of us only needing to be triggered. Gabriel unexpectedly, finally finds the inspiration he’d been searching for, to write and be his own man, in his childhood memories (which he recounts candidly, from breaking his virginity to a whore to being prescribed ‘less reading’ as medicine when his life-long suffering from insomnia began at the age of twelve) when the then budding journalist, in his twenties, accompanies his mother on a journey back to their native. “My mother asked me to go with her to sell the house,” the first sentence in the first chapter.

If you are familiar with Gabriel’s works, this book’s utter beauty is in the encounters that inspired and shaped his thought process while writing his books, some of which top among the world’s best books of all time including One Hundred Years of Solitude—which he makes a shocking revelation about here. Gabriel writes about his brother, “Yiyo in the most difficult years of poverty became a writer and journalist by sheer hard work. He died at the age of fifty-four, almost not enough time to publish a book of more than 600 pages of masterful research into the secret life of One Hundred Years of Solitude, which he had worked on for years without my knowing about it and even making a direct inquiry of me.” My copy of Gabriel’s One Hundred Years of Solitude has 422 pages. Did he get some excerpts from his brother’s? It’s not mentioned, so we’ll probably never know. But did his brother inspire him? I believe so.

Some mind-blowing discoveries include the revelation of the origin of Gabriel’s imaginations, so real, like Macondo (a famous fictional magical town often existing in his novels). Also as interesting is the fact that Gabriel’s parents’ previously forbidden love inspired the premise of his book Love in the Time of Cholera— the unconventional love story of an old couple Florentino Ariza and Fermina Daza, who were able to still fall in love in their olden days after their cat and mouse cataclysm that lasted half a century. When [his] grandparents finally permitted [his] parents to get married, Gabriel says [their] story was no longer captivating so to prolong and remodel his book’s characters he got inspired by the story of an old couple murdered on a deck (a case he encountered during his journalism days). To him, fascinating was the fact that the victims were at the time of death both married to different partners. FYI, Love in the Time of Cholera’s last scene is on a deck where Florentina and Fermina, old, are finally together, free from their former partners and falling in love. Anew.

It’s alleged that Gabriel locked himself in for over two years recalling and researching on [his] life whilst writing Living to Tell the Tale (his latest publication first out in 2002) in fear of looming death, right after his battle with lymphatic cancer. He writes, “While talking to papa about the difficulty many writers had in writing their memoirs when they could no longer remember anything, Cuqui, just six years old, drew the conclusion with masterful simplicity: he said, ‘The first thing a writer ought to write is his memoirs, when he can still remember everything’.”

At the point at which this memoir ends, Gabriel has risen from grass to grace and is now able to support his family. The bachelor sets on a trip to France for an international conference. The trip which was meant to take a few weeks eventually saw him stay there for a few years. At [it’s] onset he jokingly writes a letter to Mercedes, the woman he had been exchanging letters and pleasantries with, “This was not meant to be more than five lines to give her official notice of my trip. I signed it: ‘If I do not receive an answer to this letter within a month, I’ll stay and live in Europe forever.’ It was Friday. On Thursday of the following week, when I walked into the hotel in Geneva at the end of another useless day of international disagreements, I found her letter of reply.” That’s the last sentence in Living to Tell the Tale.

Mercedes waited years for Gabriel, who later married her. They have two sons.

By the time the book ends, none of Gabriel’s acclaimed books have been published, only his first novel ‘Leaf Storm’ which Gabriel (who BTW studied law under his father’s duress) highly recounts as his best expression and most honest to date. I have to find that book. Explains why Living to Tell the Tale was meant to be the first of a trilogy of Gabriel’s self-authored biographies but could sadly turn out to have been the last of his new works as Gabriel now suffers from dementia caused by the intensive cancer treatment. His brother J’aime whom in this book, he shared an affectionate relationship with says (via the Guardian UK), “Gabriel has problems with his memory. Sometimes I cry because I feel like I am losing him.”

At the finale, the man, who would years later, win the prestigious Nobel Peace prize of literature, has just discovered his calling for writing but still, is in search of himself. On the way to the airport now a well-respected writer in his country, Gabriel bumps into one of the porters from his former office who then asks, “What I don’t understand Gabriel is why you never told me who you are.” He answers, “I couldn’t tell because even I don’t know who I am yet.”

In essence, this book is about the struggle to find oneself, one’s art and path in a world filled with responsibilities and expectations.I pray that Gabriel writes again. If he doesn’t, I’ll still be happy he lived to tell tales and part of [his] tale. All that inspired me a whole load. The book is really deep and humanizes the legendary Gabriel Garcia Marquez making him that light-hearted vagabond and carousing yet insightful soul we all need to befriend. So much, sometimes I shed a few tears while reading it (Shhh … don’t tell anyone) that took me about five months—during which, my own life transformed a lot in many ways. It’s almost as if I was reading on his journey while I was on one myself. Heck, aren’t we all on one anyway?

BONUS: Living to Tell the Tale’s prologue, “Life is not what one lived, but what one remembers and how one remembers it in order to recount it.”

Dear God …

I come before you like a child lost because I am, and the one who never learns. I’ve gone astray and like the prodigal son, I am your daughter coming home. I have fallen prey to sin and many ills of this world. But in reparation, I am willing to learn. Through the mirror I was the queen. But now I am keen to look outside the window. I see thousands of people akin to me; making me realize that I am just a grain of sand you allow inside your massive life-hour glass.

I come to you like a weakling because despite the worldly gains, I am frail. I hope I am not late to apologize and trust that you will take me back into your arms. Whether weak or strong, surround me with your strength. Whether alive or gone, make me anew your image. Whether I fall, or uphold you, bless my lineage. Whether I hide or proclaim my commitment, make me truly spiritual, for the church is nothing if it doesn’t actually exist in the heart. And I am nothing if you don’t exist in mine.

Tuning into Channel Orange: Frank Ocean

Frank Ocean is no stranger to murky waters. Prodded by Hurricane Katrina from his native New Orleans, he moved to L.A to pursue a career in music. After experiencing waves with record labels, he broke out solo in 2011 releasing his debut, Nostalgia Ultra (NU), a mixtape. Its critical acclaim was a show for Ocean swimming good into genres broader than R&B/hip hop.

Delving deeper, Frank recently came out (labeling himself neither gay or bisexual) in an open letter via hisTumblr blog, declaring that a man was indeed his first love, amidst girlfriends and confusion. While some critics took the lackadaisical confession as uncalled for, a myriad of celebrities including Mama Blue Ivy, Jermaine Dupri and Russell Simmons showed their support. And Frank was well above his strokes at the verge of unleashing his official debut album cum sophomore effort; Channel Orange (CO) released in July 2012.

Half the time, there’s nothing (or nobody) like your first. So to speak, CO is rather a guaranteed will-fall-in-love-with album; as opposed to NU’s love-at-first-listen gift but nonetheless a befitting sequel, once again displaying Frank as an effortless juggler of innovative sounds, poetic lyricism and emotions running nude.

2. Thinking about you 03.20

This alluring entrée into the album is served with a falsetto that would put Usher to shame. The poignant composition is a quest of a carrier of love un-returned seeking THE answer, “Do you not think so far ahead? Coz I’ve been thinking about forever”. I heard so many covers of this song before this original version, and I’ve come to a conclusion that all other singers should be banned from it with immediate effect because only Frank killed it straight up that nothing was left.

7. Super Rich Kids feat Earl Sweatshirt 05.04

From big cars, money to drugs and servants, this is a story of the lives of super rich kids, laden with a heavy R&B beat, complete with a slurry hook, a melodic incarnation of Mary J’s chorus to Real Love. Earl’s lazy flow rap is the kind of stuff you want to be high on all year round. Sick collabo!

10. Pyramids 09.52

Half split into dance and dub step, respectively, this track is definitely a favorite! Also making for a serious club banger! The song is a weird yet beautiful lyrical journey starring Cleopatra as the stripper and the cheetahs; an analogy for ‘hungry’ men. They are set loose but her legion still stands tall as she’s working at the pyramids, a place where she makes many (including him) feel brand new and loved, though not for free. Someone please tell Frank to write me a book on poems. BTW the vocal arrangement in this one is the album’s most outstanding!

11. Lost 03.54

Certified iPod banger! Frank sings about love lost. The song is a mirror to the many worthless pursuits of the world. Like being hopeless in love with a girl who could never care that she was overweight more than unemployed, or her sightless thrills, even if urged to modify. Miami, Amsterdam, Tokyo, Spain, L.A, India or Kenya, wherever in the world, she’d still be lost and so would he, in the heat of it all, he sings.

Ok. I admit I added Kenya to that list. Nway the ad-libs on this one make me want to get so freaking lost that Frank would just serenade me back into my senses if not into his life. I mean I kinda have a model figure & a job too Something’s gotta give!

14. Bad Religion 02.55

‘If it brings me to my knees it’s a bad religion’.

The embodiment of short & sweet and probably the most beautifully written song I’ve heard since I can remember. It’s paradoxical twist will get to you if you listen keenly.  The song is a one-way verbal diarrhea at a taxi driver, the last resort to getting out burning emotions of love unrequited, a one-man cult, he sings. And after all that confession, the driver only said to him, ‘Allah Hu Akbar’.

It’s human nature that we nearly if not entirely worship those we truly love, even when they don’t return back the favor. Those un-reciprocating gods account for millions of followers of a bad religion (what Frank equates to being in love with someone who could never love you). He’s actually singing about [his] first love here. Did you cringe? I did, but probably for a different reason. The last 30 secs of his ad-libbing is the most heartfelt thing I’ve ever heard from Frank making me think of only two things I want to do: Kiss & Love Frank Ocean. I mean who could never love this man, and make him sad? Also this is the kind of song with two extremes, you either dig or not. And it’s true, we’ve all been in a bad religion, at least once.

15. Pink Matter feat Andre 3000

If you weren’t already acquitted to Frank Ocean, Pink Matter is by far the closest this album has channeled him back to the brilliance of NU. From Frank’s poetically jotted lyrics about a quest to know what lies beneath every matter (be it heart, a box or body), his sweet revarb-ing vocals, to Andre’s inexplicable rap/vocal prowess, this track is Frank’s best collaborative effort so far.

The complete Channel Orange has 17 tracks,  including must-listens like Forrest Gump and the guitaresque Sweet Life. I have new-found respect for Frank’s honest expression through his music. Away from fame and fortune or whatever else could come out of this, Frank is a beacon of redemption for any person ostracized for whoever or whatever they loved or stood for. For love is love. And music makes the world go round. And if anyone can’t understand that, then they should jump into an ocean already. I recommend Channel Orange, just be prepared for a good swim.

For more info dive into frankocean.com

BONUS: Check out this 9 minute interview of Frank talking about creativity, inspiration and how he appreciated his first chance to write his own songs for NU.

In silence, we speak …

While falling is to human, in love must be to humanity; and in silence–a rare occurrence. So pardon me when I confess that last weekend I fell for two men at first sight. Just like that. As you would imagine, it was overwhelming. But nothing I couldn’t handle, particularly because I fall a lot. I once fell on the stairs leading up to my office lobby, and a stranger walking in picked me up. Then he recognized me from Twitter. Now tell me that wasn’t a classic case of literally falling at first sight. Only this time, the one who fell hardly used their sight appropriately. Another time, after a rainy night I fell on the muddy terrain that used to be Mutindwa market’s ragged path. But those are embarrassing moments. So it’s with pleasure that I am sharing my love stories: sandwiches, pajamas, music, and most recently Downton Abbey have occupied my heart, to large extents.

But Yaaay! Finally, here is a non-slippery situation: two adorable men. One was quite small, the other; more of my size–big. The combi was father and son, the latter seemingly three years of age. His eyes were beautiful, his smile even the more. His tongue was cute, sticking out probably in oblivion but fused in careless mountains and valleys, that were his incessant giggles and chuckles. He was staring at me, and so was his dad. I was staring back at the little one, with my side eye through my shades, while pretending to be reading my magazine. But an entire feature later, I hadn’t comprehended anything. Maybe it was because reading Intelligent Life by The Economist is no mean feat. Not only for the intellectually challenged but for the masses in general. Or maybe it was the men around me who clouded my senses. And if it was them, why so? I didn’t have time to check out the bigger man. He was too close and it would have come off as rude. But overall, I appreciated the connection we had. It was so strong I didn’t have to check him out after all.

One and a half man, sitting next to a stranger, side to side in a noisy matatu driven like we were on the road to hell. But we were just heading to town. It felt though like the two were headed to a more joyous destination–a bright future, a great friendship and a lasting bond. It’s how the two were playing silly dad-son games, and sharing glances like (you-say-hi-to-her-first), and all that while, I was in adoration of them, just wondering what their names were. Because I had my shades on, I didn’t think they would have really known anything about me, but I was wrong. Right when we got to town, Mr. Fly Dad told little man, “Why don’t you say hi to her?” I lowered my guard–shades to be precise and the little one only stared at my eyes like I was a mysterious roller coaster running fast and wild. Maybe I am.  So I asked the dad, “What’s his name?”  Abdul, he said. Maybe I should have told them mine, but who really cared after the lovely brief and silent moment we had shared?

That experience made me think a lot on the issue of communication. How many times do we care to do it in silence? If it isn’t through social media, it’s via other media still, mostly outlets for outbursts as compared to verbal communication or even better, what the heart was made for other than pumping blood– just feeling. It’s common sense that silence is no communication. But it’s rather nonsensical to ignore that it’s also a form of communication, just that in it; a lot of signs are often misread and therefore misunderstood. However, I just discovered that little forms of communication come close to MUS (Mutually Understood Silence).

I know that Abdul’s dad wished me well, and that he knows I did the same for him. As for Abdul, he was probably checking out my boobs jonesing for milk and there I was getting all emotional about him. On the real though, I appreciated those two gentlemen. Wherever they are, God bless them. I felt the energy around them and it fed me some good vibes. Moral of this post– I am learning to appreciate the power of silence. Now somebody get me a hot miming man without a child already damnit

A chat with the young-spirited & gifted Mambo Mbotela.

For decades, Leonard Mambo Mbotela has been hosting, “Je huu ni ungwana?”, Kenya’s most famous and longest running radio program relayed on KBC’s Radio Taifa. Among Kenyan personalities, Mambo is in a class of his own. He’s also a TV host, writer, newsreader, sports commentator and musician but only one thing stands out. “Radio paired with my voice is my God-given talent,” he says as soon as I signal the start of what was intended to be a minor interview, but turned out to be bigger than I thought.

Despite his busy schedule, Mambo excitedly gave me an instant “Yes!” when I called for a chance to interview him. I asked him to provide me with some of his old photos, but he couldn’t get hold of any. That’s when I said to him, “Nitakupiga basi na camera yangu.” His reply,“Jameni ukinipiga si utaniumiza!” That warm sense humour isn’t the only thing natural about this man. “Broadcasting runs in my blood”, says the pied piper whose distinct husky voice, wit and eloquence in Swahili, has made fans across the country follow and adore him for years.

It’s a hot Friday, around midday, an hour to a recording of his TV show at the Norfolk hotel. We are right across the road seated at KBC’s restaurant having cold fruit cocktails. He literally shook hands with everyone as we walked down the corridors leading to the restaurant. Undoubtedly a man of the people, his viewpoint on age clashes with the ubiquitous mass celebration of it being “just a number!”

“When you’re young at heart, age is simply nothing. So I don’t talk about my age, “he says with a sneaky gleam. Smartly clad in a lesso-print shirt and perfectly ironed black trousers, he looks good too. As I ask questions, he seems very keen. Indeed, all his answers are straight forward.

Road to Radio

Born in Mombasa’s old Frere town, Mambo studied in Buxton Primary and Kitui High School. After which he immediately started working as a trainee at the East African Standard newspaper. However, his prowess in news reading is self-taught. “In high school, I would cut newspaper clippings, compile news and read them out to my classmates,” he recalls. Among his mentors were veteran broadcasters Steven Kikumu and Job Isaac Mwanto (I am probably too young to have heard of such people, he tells me–true and shameful).

Fuelled by a dream to be the voice behind the mic, Mambo approached the late Simeone Ndesanjo, who was head of radio at KBC (then Voice of Kenya, (VOK)), for a chance to be employed. As Simeone advised Mambo to start off as an announcer, he also made an observation that would later come into full circle, “I can see you have the potential of making a great broadcaster.” That was 1964. The same year Mambo started working at VOK as a freelance reporter.

In a short span of time he gained many fans, prompting VOK to offer him a permanent post as a program assistant. “I was so excited by the promotion. I couldn’t believe it. I even left my job without giving a resignation! Eventually, VOK had to compensate The East African Standard by means of payment for stealing me like that”, says Mambo with a reminiscent flash of that fateful day.

I hadn’t seen him this fired up since the start of the interview.

He then began hosting interactive radio programs, “Salamu za vijana”, “Uhalifu haulipi chochote” and “Nini maoni yako”. Through the shows he highlighted various societal issues while giving listeners a chance to air their grievances as well as share experiences. This would later turn out to be the foundation of a long-lasting “polygamous” marriage between three entities– Mambo, his fans and radio.

No etiquette & embarrassment creates ‘Je huu ni ungwana?’

In 1966, a casual visit to the Panafric hotel turned awful when Mambo and his friends stayed too long without being attended to. One of his friends lost it and started yelling for a waiter. As Mambo narrates the story, he re-lives the experience by also yelling and hitting the table. The man sitting across us at the restaurant flashes across a ‘STFU’ look. “Did you see that reaction?” probes Mambo. “Nobody likes such embarrassing behavior and especially at a prestigious hotel like Panafric. My friend could have just asked politely if not practice patience,” he asks?

That experience marked the inaugural year of “Je huu ni ungwana” and also served as the show’s debut topic. In 2009, 43 years down the line and the show’s ever growing popularity led to a TV show being conceptualized from it—of course with Mambo as the host.

With now close to celebrating fifty years on the airwaves, Black Roses sought the show’s top three recurring cases of etiquette deficiency:

1. Table manners

If you love multi tasking, don’t be caught talking and chewing food at once. Mambo also says that, ignoring side-plates by dumping the remains of food and bones all over the table is an insult to a waiter/host.

2. Disregard for personal space

Mambo shuns men who use queuing at banks/public places as pretence for touching or rubbing against ladies derrières.

3. DTP

“Move bitch get out the way!” Ludacris and many others have fallen prey to disturbing the peace. Shouting haphazardly in public places is crude. “There could be six Marys on the street at any one point, so when you are yelling for Mary, you confuse the other five you’re not calling. If and when you see a friend, just run across to them or call their phones”, he says.

Mambo adds, “I had to teach myself humility because I am a celebrity and a public figure. Everywhere I go people want to shake my hand. I let everyone, especially kids, run to me. Little do people know that God blesses the humble.”

Here Mambo’s thought process seems interrupted.

“Something very important, did you know that I was caught right in the middle of Kenya’s attempted coup?”

This is getting even more interesting.

While Tabuley played, my life nearly came to a stop.

After the coup, law and order was restored but Leonard still had to appear before court to outline his supposed involvement with the masterminds of the rebellion. He was acquitted. He still insists, “I had no prior knowledge of a plan to overthrow the government.”

The year was 1982, the day, August 1^st. On returning home from seeing off his sister at the airport, Mambo heard gunshots at around 4.45 a.m.

He narrates the ordeal to Black Roses …

“At the time, I was head of Swahili/vernacular services at VOK. So, when I heard someone knock my bedroom window I thought it was a colleague who needed the station opened earlier than usual. On stepping out of the house I was met by rebels who asked me if I was ‘Mambo’. I obliged to everything they wanted.”

“They took me with them to VOK and we got there at 5 a.m. The station had been invaded by other rebels and some unruly students from the University of Nairobi. Amidst the chaos, the morning presenter had fled and left the studio unmanned. One of the rebels jotted a message on a piece of paper and then put a gun to my head asking me to read it out to Kenyans on National radio. It said, ‘From today, the government of Kenya has been overthrown. All prisoners are now free and all police officers are civilians…’ and it went on.”

“After that, followed more disorder that saw the rebels leave me in the studio alone. I decided to run as I felt a sinking feeling in my gut. But not before putting Tabuley’s album on replay, ‘Baby love me’ was the track playing when I fled to a different studio, where I hid under a table.”

“After several hours of praying, I leapt out from underneath the table. Walking along the corridors I had to jump over corpses. The Kenya Armed Forces led by General Mahmoud Mohammed, then deputy commander, had come to the rescue. My first instinct was to get back to the studio and on my way there I encountered an army officer who had a gun pointed at me.”

“He was nearly pulling the trigger, so I immediately raised my hands and shouted, ‘Don’t shoot, I am Mambo Mbotela!’ In shock, the officer quickly put down the gun. ‘I have never seen you in person Mambo. I would have killed my beloved radio personality without knowing. Please forgive me,’ he said.”

“Scared stiff and conflicted, I went back to the mic to revert my previous statement that the government had been overthrown. For Kenyans to believe me, I first had to reassure them that I was the same old Mambo. I am glad they heard my message and more so, trusted me. I stayed at VOK for three days, running the radio station solo. The GSU guards at KBC today were deployed following that incident.”

“The man who had put a gun to my head (to read the coup statement) was rebel leader Hezekiah Ochuka. He was later hanged for treason. I didn’t think I would survive through that day, radio saved my life.”

Contemporary Radio & Longevity

With a fresh and clean luster blind to present-day radio, “Jee huu ni ungwana’s” prolonged existence is one to reckon with. Its driving forces have been Mambo’s research and the bulk of feedback from listeners and viewers. “Modern-day radio is dominated by selfish individuals who only care for fame and money. This has made up personalities disinterested in making the society better,” he says.

“However, Caroline Mutoko is tough, outspoken and cares for edutainment. I like her a lot,” says Mambo who then asks, “How can a DJ from the disco be a radio presenter?”

 His advice on the way forward for contemporary radio is simply, training. Something he says he’s willing to offer to interested persons. “Contentment and arrogance are the main ingredients to cooking immature careers,” he says. So, what’s the secret to longevity? “Be humble and prolific. If you have a show or job, don’t be satisfied there. Start another one.”

Freedom & Heroism

Mambo’s outstanding contribution to the Kenyan broadcasting industry has impacted many lives. “Among my most memorable moments was meeting a fan who changed from being a batterer after he heard me on radio shaming men who beat their wives,” he says.

1984-1990 saw Mambo join the Presidential Press Service under Former President Moi’s regime, a tenure he says gave him the chance to practice journalism extensively in Kenya and the world over.

Among countless accolades, he’s been granted the 1987 Head of State commendation (HSC) and in 1992, the Order of Grand Warrior of Kenya (OGW).

“During Kenyatta and Moi’s era, journalists had no freedom of expression. You must have heard of the torture chambers? You could never draw caricatures of the president like they do now. In terms of variety, for a long time Kenyans had no other choice apart from VOK. I am very happy with the new crop of media institutions and the current press freedom,” says Mambo.

In 2009, Mambo was among a handful of others named ‘Heroes’ by the Kenyan government. However, it is the same system that has left him feeling unappreciated because to him, just naming heroes is not enough.

“The government hasn’t honored me and many others like it should. We need land and jobs as most of us have the required expertise anyway. Joe Kadenge and James Siang’a are veteran footballers who made Kenyan football reach unimaginable heights yet they are now living in poverty. It must be greed on the government’s part. Otherwise, what’s the need of a Dedan Kimathi statue when his family is languishing in poverty?” he poses.

Road after Radio.

Mambo is married and blessed with three children, Jimmy, Aida and George Mbotela. “My kids are all grown up so I have more time and space to concentrate on my jobs,” he says. All work and no play makes Mambo a dull boy. Oh boy! I meant, man. Once every weekend, backed by a live band, he sings Kenyan oldies, better known as ‘Zilizopendwa’ at Vibro Club in Nairobi West area. “My lifestyle is not as tedious as it seems. I’ve been doing this a long time, so every part of it, is me,” he says.

Retirement is unlikely for such a young-spirited and gifted man. In fact, he’s currently planning to start a new show and authoring a new book, both on championing Kiswahili language. His inspiration for both ventures came from the modern disregard for grammatically correct Swahili. “Sheng’ is all over radio!” he exclaims.

It’s enthralling to hear him say that he’s been watching Grapevine (an entertainment show I host), without me asking. I am yet to coerce him into liking and reading my stuff. “You’re good. Soar higher but just don’t compromise yourself for anything, not even favors,” he advices me.

It was an honor to have a candid chat with the icon. I am thankful for that, and my long-finished-cocktail which he paid for. “I would want to start an institute of broadcast training and in my hometown Mombasa even a radio station, Inshallah. When I am gone, I want that to be my legacy,” says Mambo.

Mambo’s self authored book, “Je huu ni ungwana” is available in leading book stores. The radio/ TV show airs Saturdays at 12.45 pm and Wednesdays at 6.30pm respectively.