Mental

One busy Saturday when I was around 10 years old I was standing in a shop on Biashara Street in central Nairobi that sold food in bulk. Wholesale. I watched as man walked in and proceed to buy 14 (I counted them) cartons of Weetabix each carton holding around 24 boxes of the stuff.

I have never been so jealous or impressed in my life.

All those bars of Weetabix for one guy? What a hero; what a show-off. My mother reassured me that he probably was not going to eat it all himself but was most likely buying stock for his shop but I preferred my vision of him surrounded by boxes of the stuff and having it for every meal.

Back then the most popular kid amongst us was a guy who not only OWNED a proper football but used to dish out free Weetabix if his team won. Unsurprisingly my brothers and I (although on the opposing team) regularly ensured that his team always won in the end. Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do! I loved the stuff.

A few years later when I got home and proudly announced to my older brothers that they were looking at the new captain of the school under-13s rugby team I was promptly informed that I can not call myself a rugby captain unless I could eat 8 bars of Weetabix in one sitting using only one packet of milk (around 0.4 litres).

I made it. Just.

I am not sure why I was so obsessed with those brown bars of cereal. I have my theories but that is for another post another day. The strange this a few years I thought back one day and realised that I had not eaten any Weetabix in over 5 years.

I am not sure when I stopped, I just did. Basically I had grown up and, in a way, out grown the obsession. It used to be important, it no longer was.

The point behind my Weetabix story is that as a 10 year I never fathomed that a time would come when my thoughts wouldn’t be dominated by Weetabix. In fact the sole motivation for becoming an adult was so I could eat Weetabix when I wanted without having to ask anyone. At the time it never occurred to me that that would be unreasonable.

That contrasts sharply with my flirtation with “Gangsta Rap”. From the very first time I heard a Gangsta Rap song (probably around 13 when NWA were busy telling us to “Fuck the Police”) I knew in my heart that although I loved this new, brash, in-your-face type of music at the time, a day would surely come when I would look at it with disgust. In fact I used to excuse it to myself as one of the excesses of immature youth. I was young, I was growing up, I was immature and thus, I was allowed to like it. But even then I knew that one day I would just have to recognise it for the nonsense it is. Till then I could go around singing along to Snoop’s DoggyStyle from start to finish and feel only slightly guilty.

And it wasn’t just me. At times it looked like the whole of Kenya had this fever. Every estate had a guy who would could describe the geography of Los Angeles like he was born and breed there, “you drive though Compton, pass Inglewood, and get to South Central” and of course us muppets who had never been to the USA would nod our heads wisely like we were talking about Ngummo, Ngong Road and Kenyatta Market.

I must admit that falling out of love with Gangsta Rap took a lot longer than I anticipated when I was 13. In fact although Gangsta Rap songs were quickly out numbered in my collection by the time I started university it wasn’t until much later the ridiculousness of the whole situation slapped in me in the face.

Live8! Concerts around the world to fight for Africa, MAKE POVERTY HISTORY, wear a white band. Woo Hoo! Simultaneous concerts around the world with the blue ribbon event in London. Now there were many ridiculous things about Live8 and especially the London concert. One was that the organisers constantly turned away African artists who wanted to perform. Instead they were, belatedly, give their own little concert miles away in the Eden Project, as my pal T said, they threw us in the only jungle left in England. OK it is their country. But when even brilliant black British artist such as Lemar were turned away things were thick. So a look at the line up to check out the black artists and who do you come across.

Our good friend Snoop Dogg.

Now as Lola rightly says it is obvious to any rational person that Gangsta Rappers do not speak for African American community, leave alone Africans and all black people on the planet. But when Snoop got on stage at Live8 he had an opportunity to do something, to be somebody. Of course he didn’t. All he did was show case just how stupid this whole Gangsta Rap thing is.

For one he was the ONLY artist as far as I can remember who did not mention Africa at all when he was on stage. Not a word on AID or Trade on injustice, nothing. Perhaps he needs to attend TED Global Secondly he was the only artist (apart from Madonna I think) who could not refrain from swearing on stage. Fuck this, fuck that, motherfucking this.

What makes it even more disheartening is that some of these guys have brilliant minds. You do not pull yourself up from the floor of society to make millions without engaging your brain cells. I just wish they would engage them productively. I was listening to Chuck D talking on the BBC a while ago and he was talking about how he happened to be on the same plane to Australia as 50 Cent and spent a while talking to him. According to Chuck D, 50 Cent is one of the most intelligent people in the rap game today. Yet a few hours later 50 Cent was in front of a large crowd of 50,000 plus people and urging them to all shout, “KILL THAT NIGGA” as he (50 Cent) asked what he should about some of his rivals in the rap game. Now having a stadium full of kids shouting KILL THAT NIGGA is, as Chuck D pointed out, not healthy.

However Gangsta Rap especially in an African context is full of illogic. For one Gangsta Rappers want us to believe that they live the hardest lives ever. Now I am not one belittle another man’s experiences (and having seen inner city Manchester close up for many years I know that “developed country” means a different thing for a crown prince who flies in a private jet to Argentina to play polo than it does to the young kids of Moss Side who do not even have a playing field in their school) but KM has a great quote from a K’naan the rapper born in Mogadishu, Somalia,

If i rhyme about home, and got descriptive/
I’d make 50 cent look like limp bizkit.

Mogadishu –v- Compton = no contest.

Secondly, Gangsta Rap sells itself as ghetto/street music but Gangsta Rap as far as Kenya and the parts of Africa I have been to is not the music of the street. That is reserved for reggae a.k.a freedom music a.k.a revolution music a.k.a Roots a.k.a Dub. Call it what you want, that is the sound of the street.

Thirdly, and in many ways the most serious, the disrespecting our sisters. That this has somehow come to be labelled a black thing is the biggest disservice that Gangsta Rap has served on us. In fact the disrespecting of women by Gangsta Rap is one of the biggest signs of male disempowerment in society this world has to offer. Again on the BBC a few weeks ago when this topic was being debated I heard another Gangsta Rapper who apparently is meant to be quite articulate, Xzibit, give the most nonsensical and ridiculous justification for using NIGGA and BITCH/BYATCH etc in rap music. Luckily for the sane amongst us the BBC also had the great Fats Domino in the studio to talk about proper music as well as share some thoughts on just how misguided the youth of today are!

Luckily we have gurus of very good music amongst our midst and even more so good music is everywhere around us in every genre including rap. Personally I have had it with “Gangsta Rap”. I should have stuck with the Weetabix.