Those Were The Days II: Sauti za Busara

Right. You guys must be thinking the pole-pole spirit’s gotten the better of me.

Apologies, and apologies again! I know a blog should be nourished like a plant. If you don’t water it regularly, it shrinks, dries, dies. So much for lousy comparisons – I’ve been having some persisting problems with my internet connection here for the past two weeks. Couldn’t access Facebook (oh mama!), Youtube videos wouldn’t load and, worst of all, my lousy modem wouldn’t let me reach my own blog. But! All that is, eh, seems, solved now. Time to reanimate this baby - there are stories to be told! First in line: the Zanzibar experience.

Those were the days, grandpa will sigh half a century from now. No doubt about it, the Sauti za Busara weekend’s been the highlight of my African adventure so far. I had pictured Zanzibar many a time in the weeks prior to my departure. In my head, I painted dream-like tableaux – white sand, a light-blue ocean, a gentle breeze tickling the palm-trees, ah well, all the usual “isla-bonita” suspects really. “The pearl of Africa!” it read in the books and on the blogs, and a typical Zanzibari [dhow] wallpaper adorned my desktop for over a month.

The real thing didn’t disappoint.

In grandpa’s 2062 account of it all, Sauti za Busara 2012 will doubtlessly have featured the best bands world music had to offer. People will have fluttered around on flying carpets, and the amount of peace and love to have sprinkled the audience will have put Woodstock (Who-stock?!) to shame. Ah well. The actual story is rosy enough. To me, Sauti lived up to its claim being “the friendliest festival on the planet”. At least it’s among the friendliest I’ve visited. Peace ‘n love there were, a whole lot of ‘em. Alright, didn’t spot any flying carpets, but let’s say they took on the form of another mode of transport, indeed one quite familiar to me: I was amazed to see so many bicycles in Stone Town! (One of the first things I saw upon setting foot on the island was an old man in a celestially white djellabah biking around on a bumpy street, the first of many picturesque scenes – shame the lousy photographer that I am didn’t have the camera within reach.)

The performances took place at an old fort in the middle of Stone Town, starting at around 5 PM, and the fun would usually continue until well past midnight. Dancing my ass off in a castle brought back some good memories – I recall epic nights at the world music festival in the Portuguese gypsy town of Sines last summer, an event which also featured performances in a castle, creating a magical atmosphere (it was here where my enthusiasm for researching African music was triggered, with Congolese soukous tunes bringing a thousand-something people audience in a state of ecstasy!).

As for the music: “Sauti” did feature a rich array of African singers, dancers, and drummers. I had been looking forward to a few of them in particular.

Firstly, there was Bi Kidude, Bi Kidude, East Africa’s greatest living musical legend, known both within and outside the continent as the undisputed queen of taarab. Taarab is a form of sung Swahili poetry and considered a uniquely Zanzibari genre. Mrs Kidude was one of the first artists to enter the stage, backed up by the “Womens’ Taarab Orchestra”, a band of big Zanzibari mama’s in beautiful purple-coloured dresses. Mind you – Bi is over a hundred years old. She was born at the beginning of the 20th century and already started her singing career in the early 1920s – would you believe it? And there she was, captivating the audience some eighty years later, old and feeble but with a powerful, piercing voice… (alright, let me be honest here for a second, taarab isn’t exactly your prime-example of easy listening, and sometimes her voice was, let’s say, painfully piercing) but come on, how cool is it to see such a living piece of history on stage? People were rushing forward to make the most of their Kodak-moments. Bi, like her audience, was having a great time and wouldn’t leave us until one of the purple dresses gently escorted her off the stage. “It ain’t over until the fat lady sings”, right? If she ever dies, I bet it will be heroic and on stage, in the heat of the moment. Like Sir Alex Ferguson who, as we all know, will choke on his gum one day in his beloved dug-out after a missed chance by one of his strikers.

Then, Leo Mkanyia. Now this guy was really something else. I had read about him in Holland while preparing my research and found out he is known as the figurehead of a genre called “Swahili Blues”. He has a very distinct sound and is a virtuoso on guitar, and – particularly interesting for me as a researcher – performs together with his dad, who was a Muziki wa Dansi star in the 70s and 80s. This former member of Mlimani Park did a good job passing on his skills. Given this interesting father-son collaboration, I had put Leo on my wanted-list of interviewees, hoping to snatch him on Zanzibar for at least a short talk. What I got was so much more.

Every afternoon between around 3 and 5, a so-called Movers and Shakers session was taking place at a particular hotel, meant for people who were in some way or another affiliated with the music, be it as NGO workers, government representatives, artists or festival staff. Small symposia really, where discussions on developments in the music business and – brrr – networking were the main focal points. Rebecca, my friend and founder of the Tanzania Heritage Project, was one of the invitees there and had somehow managed to get us (our friends Zoe and Geert, and me) in there. After one of those sessions, where Leo was present, Geert came up with an idea: could we do a video-interview with this man, and afterwards film him playing a few of his gems in some mystical Zanzibari alleyway? Of course, said Leo, hamna shida – “but I didn’t bring my guitar.” Because there is no such thing as coincidence, Zoe had brought hers along that particular day (I’d brought my uke too). So, an hour later there we were, on a quiet Stone Town street, filming the master of Swahili blues playing a private set on my friend’s guitar. Hallelujah! This truly was one of the most intimate, touching and true musical experiences I’ve had. Here’s a video Geert made with his camera (and edited).

Still awed by this sublime intermezzo, Zoe, Rebecca and I decided to jam some more.

That’s when the kids came out, jumping at my baby Lily at once. Man! It felt like seeing your hyperactive cousin running around with grannie’s antique Chinese vase, and I was waiting for an accident to happen – but it didn’t. Alright, they kind of tortured the strings, but didn’t break them, and the scene was unforgettable. A bunch of Zanzibari kids having a blast pretending to be rock-stars:

Leo’s show on Friday afternoon was a success. Even though he was the first act of the night (actually late-afternoon), he attracted a big audience. Throughout the set, more and more people joined the crowd, dancing enthusiastically to father and son’s riffs:

Thirdly, I had heard good stories about FM Academia, Tanzania’s no. 1 modern-day dansi group. They were Sauti’s final act, and although having to deal with some persisting microphone problems, concluded the festival in proper fashion. A funny bunch, really, guys with ingenious haircuts, some of them wearing Village People-esque outfits you’d be expecting on a party-boat in Amsterdam rather than a festival stage in East Africa!

Other musical highlights, for me, included Orchestra Super Mazembe – a Kenya-based collective who have been masters of soukous since 1967 and got the fort wobbling! -, Nneka, a Nigerian singer/songwriter who moved herself and some in the audience to tears with a powerful performance, and Tumi and the Volume, a South African group formed around rapper/poet/MC Tumi Molekane, an energetic, Willie Wartaal-like big guy who did an amazing job at getting the audience fired up (“I’M NOT PERFORMING FOR YOU, I’M PERFORMING WITH YOU! ARE YOU WITH ME SAUTI ZA BUSARA?!). Oh, and I shouldn’t forget the traditional dancing group from – I believe it was – Madagascar, whose front-man majestically pulled the Ozzy Osbourne – biting the head off a live chicken on stage (although I’m still not sure if I really saw what I saw, and if I believe it)!







On top of all this, I met a bunch of really nice and inspiring people on Zanzibar with whom I hope to stay in touch for a long time. Our nightly swim in the Indian Ocean (and in fact that entire night) I will most probably never forget. Zanzibari cuisine proved a welcome treat after the umpteen oily chipsi mayai I had in Dar es Salaam – octopus, catfish, shark, what a feast of seafood! And, to mix Woodstock with Zanzibar, who needs drugs when you’ve got sugar cane juice? Woah, heavenly stuff!

Alright, time to conclude this shower of lyrical chaos. Suffice to say it’s been a weekend of beauty: beautiful surroundings, beautiful music, and beautiful people. To Zanzibar I say not kwa heri, but tutaonana tena. Goodbye for now – see you again!

For a more in-depth take on the festival, read my friend Brenda’s article for ThisIsAfrica.me.

Official compilation video: