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Sankofa, Azawi’s unfinished work, and Murakami obsessions
What you need to know:
- In the passage of time, Valentine’s Day also happened; the day when our hearts willingly play into the mills of capital.
A quick update on life – I have been simmering in the world of Murakami – Murakami is a gem – his writings, a Chrysanthemum. The thing about Murakami as with all greats – Murakami is unpretentious – no word is used where a simple one will do – it is truly a Murakami world – an invitation to belong. With Murakami, there is two ways to him – you will love him or dread him.
In the passage of time, Valentine’s Day also happened – the day when our hearts willingly play into the mills of capital. I am not against rituals – What would life be without rituals – how would we deal with the groans and pains of existence. Rituals – those days that seem silly to the pretentious thinkers – those are the things that remind us – that even in a personal Gaza – the human spirit is the last thing to die. But the mills of capital – these mills of capital are always out to swallow every ritual – our rituals soon become a simulacrum. And for those of us in ‘emerging economies’ – let us be reminded that the best of flowers, leave Uganda for Europe – the rejects make it to our markets – to our lovers.
When I first listened to Sankofa – that album by Azawi – I was convinced we had arrived at something. That finally – something was being cracked – our stone pillow (thanks to Murakami) – would henceforth be stone dust. Then I went out – praised Sankofa with all the love and thought – our generational moment had arrived – music was now playing its part in society. But the gatekeepers of music thought otherwise – the album was just that – the album named Sankofa. The passage of time produced Masavu and once again – the mercantile standards won.
Was I wrong? Had my ear deceived me? Had my soul conspired in this? Impossible. I forced myself to keep re-listening to this Sankofa album. On long drives, in moments of solitude, in those spaces of transition – there was something hidden in it – yet also something too incomplete. And incomplete because of some fear, because things should also make money. But should they always? Without fear and trembling (for the Soren Kierkegaard adorers) – Ortega says Sankofa was a bridge, but an incomplete one. And Azawi must return and complete that bridge.
For starters, Sankofa is many things, imagine it is a renaissance. That when one is lost, they must go back into their past and find something, some clue of that which they did not pay attention to. In a way, it is also like the concept of Janus, that Roman god with two heads, one facing into the past, and the other, into the future. In the Twi language of Ghana, Sankofa is a bird that looks into its past and creates its future. You know, these are the very bu-things Azawi says on the album intro. “How can I journey into the future when the past is not clear … we are lost… who are we… aren’t our ancestors Kings and Queens of Old… Sankofa go back and find it…”
There must be a Sankofa album 2.0 or else we shall be staring into the greatest betrayal. Because you see, Azawi started us on this journey. And then midway on the journey, the mills of capital called – albums must pay back – in views, in listenership, in money. But the artiste has travelled ahead of those they lead – the artist cannot succumb to those they lead – for they have not seen what she has seen.
As a son of Azawi (since the Ffumbe clan forms my maternal roots) – I dream of Sankofa album 2.0. On that album, I would scrap off all the collaborations. Sankofa can only be announced in first person singular (wait, another Murakami book). And the first half, what the Hope Mukasas would call ‘Side A’ should have songs that reflect our past, then we shall bridge and have Side B. Side B will speak to this future that Prophet Azawi has seen.
There is no doubt that Azawi is a musician magnifique. But Sankofa 2.0 is her life’s work, it is akin to Chinua Achebe not having written Things Fall Apart, this is Azawi’s generational mission. Wait, I am not imposing these things, but I could sense this spirit while listening to Sankofa 1.0. And oh yes, that Banger Boyi should produce Sankofa 2.0, strictly him, nothing else. That is the challenge to Mama Azawi, and Monsieur Kyazze.
Now onto lighter things. The situationships in Kampala must be crazy. Because I could not explain this line; “Hello Ian, I have just received some flowers with no name of the sender, is it you who has sent them?” How am I supposed to answer these queries? Why would my friends think I am capable of these romantic atrocities? The closest I came to flowers in that lovers’ week was witnessing the production at Garden City. That mall! It represents everything Uganda could have become. And to show it is truly great, even in its collapse, it could still win the award for Uganda’s best shopping mall.
Postscript: Artificial Intelligence (AI) is so here. Can you imagine Co-Pilot wants to hijack my MS-Word process? And have you noticed, all the bu-Ugandan corporates have rebranded and added AI to the subject expertise. Banamwe ani alibasonyiwa?
X: @OrtegaTalks
