"Nakozonga" - Lingala for "I Will Come Back"

Tale of the African seeking a better life abroad and nursing sweet dreams of home

The first time I heard  Congolese (DRC) singer-songwriter Lokua Kanza's beautiful song 'Nakozonga', I almost wept. I didn't know the meaning of the words, but there was something about the beautiful, compelling and simple melody that reached deep into my soul. I'm a lover of African music anyway, but at the time I first listened to the song, I was really missing home (Nigeria), and family and everything that was familiar.  It’s amazing how music can evoke all kinds of feelings and catch us off our emotional-guard.  Which is why they often say be careful what you listen to,  since the messaging in music can etch so deeply into one’s mind. Anyway, the song was just the light trigger I needed to wallow in nostalgia about my African home. In Kanza’s language, Lingala (a Bantu language with more than 10 million speakers, and spoken throughout north-western Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), large parts of the Republic of the Congo, as well  some parts of Angola and the Central African Republic (CAR) ), ‘Nakozonga’ means ‘I will come back’. The refrain of the song basically says:

 “I'm leaving today to go find a better living, but I 'll be back. I'm just travelling, I'm not dead. In the future, I will go back to my country, the country where I was born, because there is too much suffering in this foreign country”.

Home can mean many things. Home is where you long to go back to, the place that provides that giddy feeling of familiarity, a sense of security and comfort.  In the worst times, it’s where you shouldn’t be afraid to cry or laugh or just be yourself. Far from a physical location, home is really where the heart is. But it’s possible for your heart to be in two place at once, isn’t it? And home sometimes can be so familiar that is provides the largest source of criticism and expectation any human being could ever be exposed to. Every year, thousands of Africans still (yes even in 2012 and 2013) try to make the journey to Europe as illegal migrants  risking life and limb through smugglers, deserts, oceans and sea, and worse – in the under-carriage of aircraft - and the humiliating possibility of being sent back home, handcuffed or in the company of security services, on a plane with others who have voluntarily and freely preferred short-term visits as tourists, business travelers or students. Young Africans who have no means of seeking life overseas legally, risk that journey for one thing. The dream of a better life and future. The Sahara desert crossings, which many young, daring mostly West African men have dared to make, are among the most notorious of such transits – far from the rather comfortable, though not luxurious boat scene shown in Kanza’s music video.

I should  pause momentarily by saying there are now almost as many young Africans moving in the opposite direction – from the West back to Africa - searching for new opportunities to build a life and dream big in the new ‘rising’ Africa. But I’ll focus on those who are the subjects in ‘Nakozonga’ ; the poor-hungry-for-life Africans -who have left Africa in search of a better life. People leave for all sorts of reasons – to flee persecution, war, conflict,  to seek asylum, as students (About 50% of whom then up as economic migrants), or some who’ve genuinely fallen in love and built new lives in the West.

Whatever the reason, within them is a sense that they leave home and when/if they return, they should be better - financially and economically - than when they left. Till that glorious return dawns however, the expectation may be that they also contribute to the family pot – for education, small business, healthcare etc. – for their relatives.  In 2012, the World Bank estimated that the flow of remittances to the developing world exceeded $406bn. Of that estimated, one African country – Nigeria - accounted for $21bn, putting it amongst the top developing world recipients of remittances. But beyond the mega-stats on remittances, what most young Africans  want to return home with is the dignity of having travelled against all odds, overcome life and death situations, conquered and returned in a much better position that they left. Kanza’s song makes a reference to ‘suffering’.  While this this may to be too extreme to describe life for the ‘average’ African  (legal) migrant in London, it represents the daily struggles they still have to go through in ‘foreign lands’.

Earlier I alluded to the story of Jose Matada, the 26 Mozambican man who  was found dead in west London after falling from the undercarriage of an aeroplane on its way to land at Heathrow from Angola. Matada had wanted to come to Europe for a better life. But his aspiration was cut short, and he fell to his death  - he likely probably froze to death or near-death before he fell, since the plane would have flown at altitudes impossible for the human body to sbear. In his actions I sense the desperation that would have motivated him, and so many others, to go to such lengths to escape their sun-scorched lives, and I’m left in no doubt that our home – Africa – still needs a lot of fixing. In Matada’s case, he never came back. He never had the chance to build a life that would give him the chance to come back, perhaps better than he left. If there was an extra verse in Kanza’s song, I would add lines to this effect: “What suffering would you rather bear? The one in a foreign land, or the one in your own home?”

Re-thinking development, activism and race: In honour of Africa’s 'Bonos' at home and abroad.

Today, a friend of mine sent me a Whats App message asking me to look at page 24 of London’s Evening Standard without telling me what the story was about. I had been home all day sick with a stomach bug, so I hadn't done the usual robotic commuter grab for the Evening Standard. Anyway out of sheer curiosity, I went online to the Evening Standard wondering what the story could be. Suffice it to say that one story did grab my attention. That of American MollyMelching whose fight against the practice Female Genital Mutilation (FGM) in Senegal (a beautiful country, in which I once lived) had been so successful that entire villages had been successfully sensitised and educated to cease the practice. The article was titled 'The woman who is inspiring Africans to turn against against female genital mutilation'. As it turns out when my friend and I got chatting again on Whats App, he sent me picture clips of the same story, and my first reaction during our chat was; ‘Where all the African women fighting against FGM. We always leave the tough stuff to others..but credit to her’.  My friend  replied, saying that there were plenty of Africans fighting against things like that but it appeared  that only 'foreigners' got  the attention. I could sense a certain righteous anger in his tone. But should it matter who gets the attention as long as good is being done? His point is that Africans in the Diaspora do a lot for the continent but the papers generally tend to cover stories of the Madonnas and Bonos of this world. I was struck. His point was so obvious and so true. Perhaps stories of foreigners doing African charity tend to draw more attention. Call it the Madonna-David Banda effect. It’s true that media coverage of Africa as a continent has seen a radical shift. Indeed, with so many stories today of African growth, Africa rising, Africa’s much talked about consumer and middleclass (no one can still quantify who exactly is middle class in Africa!!!), and Africa as the last frontier, you would be forgiven for thinking that past coverage of the so-called ‘dark continent’ must have been the figment of journalistic imaginations past.

Yet, the efforts of African migrants to tackle development problems back home are still heavily under reported. In the course of conversation, my friend asked me to google, Dikeme Mutombo, who turns out to be a retired Congo-born former US NBA star who played with the New York Nicks and Houston Rockets. Heck, Mutombo is  quite the humanitarian! He founded the Dikembe Mutombo Foundation aimed at improving living standards in his native Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). Against all odds, Mutombo donated at least $15million to the completion of a hospital on the outskirts of his hometown in Kinshasa, the DRC’s capital. The hospital, which cost $29million – meaning Mutombo had financially contributed a little over half the cost – was the first modern medical facility to be built in that area for nearly 40 decades. There were several other obstacles he had to overcome to see that project to its conclusion (read more on the Wikipedia entry for Mutombo).  Now imagine the thousands of lives that would have been saved in the DRC from having such a crucial piece of social infrastructure which he remains committed to, till today. Perhaps the real story here is not Mutombo, but what he represents. Africans abroad, in the diaspora, 1^st , 2^nd or 3^rd generation migrants, call them what you may, but there are thousands more Mutombos who haven’t’ forgotten their motherlands, and who, daily, make meaningful and sacrificial contributions, unseen, unheard of by Western media.

I am not saying this to belittle the work of people like Bono, Madonna and other westerners who have, over the decades taken African development issues to heart, raised billions in development assistance and charity money and poured their own personal wealth behind Africa’s development needs. Actually perhaps part of the perceived (and actual) under-reporting of Africans’ contribution to Africa is not helped by the fact that still so many Africans abroad – like myself - who have the means and financial prowess to contribute to Africa’s development are still falling short of their responsibilities. Going back to Molly Melching, her educational programme against FGM has become so successful in Senegal that a mirror programme is now being considered for Paris and London, two cities with large numbers of African migrant communities some of whom still practice FGM.

Ironically, the article on Molly Melching does reveal that it can be much harder to uproot attitudes towards FGM amongst African migrant communities than in the communities in Africa that they have migrated from. This is not all too surprising given that migrant communities often hold tightly to traditions, cultures and practices, seeing them as the last emblems of 'home, when in foreign lands. Another point that should be highlighted is that fact that Molly Melching’s motivation was the fear her 9-year old daughter – who had been brought up in Senegal – had about being ‘cut up’ in the same way her Senegalese friends would. Melching does not strike me as the quintessential messianic , opinionated and condescending Westerner who has come to rescue poor Africans from their backward and archaic practices. Quite the contrary, she appears to be a woman who has lived and worked sensitively and sacrificially in Africa for many years. Melching launched her organised aimed at promoting human rights and women’s right more than 10 years ago, but had for a long time refrained from broaching the subject of FGM at her organisation’s (Tostan) inception given the sensitive nature of the subject. If you think about it, you’ll see that Melching was just the spark for a fire that helped local villagers consider and re-think the practice – she was an enabler of sorts. The first steps towards change actually  happened when a group of Senegalese women who had attended one of her classes, spontaneously and independently decided they would end the practice. They are also some of the real heroes of that story. For that also, Melching’s work is admirable. Let's not forget the brave Senegalese women who took a stand and helped raise wider community awareness.  I see Melching as 'African' through and through, if there was ever such a definition about what it meant to be African. Her understanding and care for the community she worked in was the differentiator in this instance. She wasn’t a one-time visiting rock or pop star, who wrote a  $10 billion dollar cheque for a massive new school building or hospital project disconnected from local realities. Her achievements have instead been borne out of years of selfless help, critical thinking, nuanced cultural understanding and genuine care.

U2 rocker Bono had temporarily been back in the news in February after giving a TED talk addressing global poverty. Bono’s ‘we are the world’ generation has raised billions in campaigns for Africa and other parts of the developing world. Suffice it to say that there’s been a major paradigm shift in the way the world thinks about aid to Africa. In the Dambisa Moyo world, we are all leaning more towards, trade, entrepreneurship and investment in projects that boost private sector participation, create wealth, build infrastructure and spark growth. Perhaps that shift should see more Mutombos and other African Madonnas recognised for their contributions to development efforts back home and on their own continent, since it is that very same class of new generation Africans that the ‘aid to trade’ paradigm shift will ultimately benefit.

On what Africans – within and outside Africa – are doing for Africa, there are many many stories of heroic African men and women bringing reform on so many issues beyond FGM. Yes there are a few celebrities among them like Mutombo, but the majority are just ordinary Africans with a  vision, and enough courage to act. I will name a few; the late Kenyan environmentalist Wangari Maathai, Leymah Gbowee, Liberian peace activist and Noble Peace Prize Laureate, whose efforts to bring peace and end the war in Liberia led to that country’s election of Africa’s first female president, and the promotion of women’s rights,  and Dr Isatou Touray, Gambian activist against FGM. There will be many more Melchings. The challenge for us all Africans in the Diaspora and on the soil is applauding her efforts. We should not be distracted by the lesser issue of what skin colour the main development protagonist is. Instead, we should also find that one issue that we're passionate enough about to be willing to see change.

Travelling Light to Kenya

What do pigs, the ICC and Masai men have in common?

 First appreciation on second visit 
 For the first time on one of my numerous African trips, I didn't check in any luggage. I only travelled with hand luggage on this week-long trip, and I surprised even myself. It was my second visit to Nairobi, Kenya in two years. For the very first time, I had a real appreciation of the city. The climate is mild, hauntingly so. The flora, a sure testament to why horticulture is a big export for East Africa’s largest economy. What about Kenyans? Graceful, self-assured, politically astute, commercially savvy, golf-loving. Tea, tourism and horticulture, big export earners for Kenya. There are not many African countries where their biggest export revenue earners, are actually evident in everyday life in one way or the other.

 Pigging around 
 The first full day of my second visit there, ‘Occupy Parliament’ protestors had made a pig’s mess – literally speaking - outside the House in uproar against Kenyan MPs plans to hike their own salaries. The civil society activists had actually brought pigs to Parliament to protest; the pigs symbolised the greedy MPs. The pigs were actually smeared with and fed blood during the protest. Animal rights activists would have been appalled as the pigs’ treatment . The newspapers and TV news stations carried the ‘bloody’ mess outside the House.. Among the protestors, were constitutional lawyers, young graduates, civil rights activists. For more than two hours, the protestors mocked the MPs. Eventually legislators signed the petition against their own agitation for increased salaries. In the mess, one poor pig was almost run over by a speeding vehicle. 

‘ICC or no ICC’! 
That was how a Nairobi cab driver started his response when I asked about Kenya's future prospects.  There's a back-story to that response. Earlier in March, Kenyans has elected the tag-team of Uhuru Kenyatta and William Ruto, in a nail-biting election, that was a crucial test of Kenya’s departure from the post-electoral violence that shook the country 5 years before. In a smart move, Kenyatta and Ruto, who hail from the two ethnic groups – the Kikuyu and the Kalenjin - that had been the two main opposing protagonists in that violent not-so distant past, joined forces to defeat erstwhile Prime Minister Raila Odinga of the Orange Democratic Movement (ODM). Even more formidable, was the fact that ‘KenRuto’ had both been elected despite International Criminal Court (ICC) indictments hanging over them for crimes allegedly perpetuated and incited by their supporters during the 2007 violence. Kenyan supporters of both men cried foul. The West implicitly debated the future diplomatic and foreign policy choices that would accompany an elected Kenyan government with two ICC indictees. Meanwhile Kenyatta and Ruto rode on the political capital that had been drummed up by local frustrations at the West’s perceived audacity. Anyway, enlightened self-interest saved the day. Two African politicians saw it expedient to join forces to ascend to office, propelled by the ballot box, and, if you like, psychological will of a people, keen to assert their political sovereignty over external interference. If you ask Kenyans today what that election meant, responses will vary from ‘Kenyatta was the best thing to have happened to Kenya’ to ‘The West will have no choice but to remain engaged with the Kenyan government, ICC or no ICC’.

(Of course I oversimply the events around Kenya's 2013 election for ease of understanding. Many of the issues were a lot more complex and historical, which space nor time won't allow for on this blog)

 Masai men and the spear! 
 A colleague tried to market the beauty, grace, and height of Kenya’s ‘alpha’ males to me (as she gallantly put it) – as if I was looking. The spear story I won’t forget in a hurry. Here goes. It is customary for a Masai man who has taken another man's wife to plant his spear outside the other man's hut during such encounters. Two primary conditions must be met: The woman must acquiesce in the encounter, and both her husband and her lover must belong to the same circumcision period (these occur about once every seven years). This practice stems from the fact that the Masai do not place great emphasis on biological fatherhood of children and make no distinction between adopted children and those born within the family. All are welcome and perfectly legitimate. #LessoninAfricanculturalpractices

 Reflecting many things I love about Africa, is how at once, very traditional, ancient values and beliefs sit comfortably alongside a modernisation and social discontent. I never did get to the bottom of why I was told the story about Masai men, but I later learned the pigs outside Parliament had eventually found a home.