A week ago I learned a new word – Bagamoyo. It means “where you leave your soul.” Yesterday I toured was in Bagamoyo and had the priviledge of touring the small town that served as a slave port for slaves rounded across the East Coast of Africa by slave traders and colonial powers. From Bagamoyo, these slaves were either shipped to Arabic countries, Persia, India, South Africa, Reunion, Mauritius to work on various plantations till the end of the 19th century. It is said that about 1.5 million slaves walked on the shores of Bagamoyo. Continue reading “From Bagamoyo, with so much soul”
Just like last year, Nyege Nyege started early and smooth, a beginning I was familiar with. I’m not going to compare the two editions – They are different in size, magnitude, performance levels, lineup, weather, duration… everything and not to mention the ending for me- a real BANG! But not the type of bang you would tell your friends who missed out, rather the type that takes to a hospital with a complete broken jaw and last thing the doctor tells you before you leave the hospital with both jaws stitched together is « Do not talk. Do not laugh. For six weeks! » Damn someone finally managed to shut my big mouth. And he did it smoothly in a space of two selfie clicks. Why? For a fuckin Tecno phone. What a world! Continue reading “My 2018 Nyege Nyege Experience”
À l’heure qu’il est, je devrais être à Goma. Mais je n’y suis pas. Enfin plus. Je suis rentré au Rwanda plus tôt que prévu. Je n’en pouvais plus.
En fait depuis que je suis parti de Goma en Août 1994 pendant la crise de réfugiés du génocide au Rwanda, des exilés, des milices interahamwe, des militaires du régime Habyarimana, je n’avais plus remis les pieds à Goma. Pour ceux qui ne savent pas, Goma partage la frontière avec le Rwanda. La frontière on ne la voit pas parce qu’elle n’existe que sur la carte de l’Afrique que nous ont dessiné “les propriétaires de la planète” en direct de Berlin en 1885. Continue reading “Retour à la terre natale, en force”
One thing you’ve gotta know about me is that I take my night life seriously. So seriously that I wouldn’t waste a second if it doesn’t lead to rocking the boat on the dance floor. I love to partyyyyyy!!! I’ve been partying for a while now but if you need a reference time, let’s say when Cadillac, Planet, Black & White, and B Club were banging. I know some OG’s who’ve been killing it way before when Cercle, Cassablanca, Kigali Night were the bomb! About 6 years ago, I remember publishing a list of my favorite hangouts with weekly activities around Kigali. Continue reading “Kigali, dead by night”
Growing up poor in the 80’s in a small village with no electricity somewhere at the border between Rwanda and the Democratic Republic of Congo (Zaïre then), I didn’t know what television was till I was about eight or nine years old. My grandfather’s small radio operating with batteries, which I pounded gently and exposed to sun rays for recharge (miracles of science!), was my only source of music entertainment. I remember the distorted sounds of soucousse, rumba, zouk machine, reggae, funk, and pop due to bad reception when my granddad wasn’t listening to the News about wars ravaging almost every part of Africa. Continue reading “Encounter with The Culture”