Mirage

Cold Handshake

Mystical, translucent and seductive. The works of Kenyan artist Paul Onditi are mesmerizing and intriguing. He is one of Kenya’s bright and upcoming contemporary artists who found his own style and voice a long time ago.

Mixing and matching genres, materials, techniques and media is Onditi’s thing. Filmstrips, prints, layers of layers of paint, and a variety of handpicked media-works are patched together in meticulous ways to visualize ideas and imaginative worlds. The result is an intelligent, deep and multi-layered aesthetic that requires deciphering and contemplation beyond the surface.

With an impressionistic sensibility and futuristic imagination, Onditi seems to deliberately hit the soft spot of our time, where we at once are longing for a brighter future, and are nostalgic about the less troublesome past. This longing is unveiled in Onditi’s dark and gloomy environments where his signature character ‘Smokey’ moves about. Smokey navigates in a vacuum. He is in between time, place, phases, and positions. And this vacuum is the artists’ ideal place for questioning, research, exploration and manifestation of ideas.

We rounded Onditi up in his studio at the Kuona Trust in Nairobi and had a chat with him about the becoming of an artwork, his significant style and recent success. Read excerpts from the interview below.

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You work in mixed media, almost collage-like canvasses patched together by different materials and techniques. How and where do you start an artwork?

First of all it starts with my imagination and idea of how the artwork will take form. Then I determine a technique of how to get what I want. This coupled with technique then, in a nutshell I have the artwork.

I’m a curious person. I’ve tried quite a vast number of materials, from oil paint to acrylic to bio materials. There’s nothing as far as my reach is concerned that I haven’t tried. Well, probably there is. So that means that after imagining what I want, , I execute my artwork by starting to implement different materials and techniques determined by what will work the best.

You incorporate a lot of media in your work. You find photos, texts, drawings online, copy them to your work etc.?

Depending on the subject matter, I often select from a variety of media. I use very old media releases/imagery to depict a current situation. I do this, because to me, nothing is new to the sun. Whatever we see today, have existed before in one way or the other. So I use this as a point of argument. It is not the first time we have a financial crisis, it has happened before. So I go back to old newspapers to find e.g. currencies that existed in the past to portray the current financial crisis.  So it’s a way of showing human behaviour in this recycling circle that keeps repeating.

Smokey Plus

A mystical, lonely figure appears in most of your work. Who is this figure, and what is his story?

I’ve named this solitary man ‘Smokey’. He is a kind of representation of the state of the human mind. It isn’t necessarily my mind, but more often it is because, he is part of what I do, and what I had imagined before I did it.

The mind of everyone to me is very vague, no matter what or how they may claim their faith. You never know what another person is thinking about. You see them, and you don’t know what is going through their minds. So this vacuum between people in communication is what I’m trying to explore, by putting this visual being whom you cannot quite describe because his face is indescribable, it’s a vacuum, a vague face. That explains why he sometimes is even headless. He is just a representation.

Does your work always evolve around this Smokey character? Is he always present?

One way or the other, you will always find Smokey somewhere in a little corner. I rarely do paintings without Smokey, but if he is not there in person, he is represented in other ways. If you don’t see Smokey, you’ll find mathematics, accumulative mathematics. This covers the same representation as Smokey. It is an attempt to cease the moment of a certain time, and to explore the human mind.

Smokey often walks around in mystical, gloomy, and dark environments that install an almost spiritual sensibility. What role does spirituality and the metaphysical play in your work?

You cannot dissociate the mind completely from the spiritual world. That feeling of a spirit around the mind, it is very essential in that it exists. Now, whether good or bad is debateable. The spirit ‘hanging’ over a painting can be a good or a bad it doesn’t matter. It’s just a reflection of a specific point in time. For me, whatever the occurrence that drove me to the execution of a given piece, remains in the work. For me it’s about freezing the moment and telling it as it is. How I see it or interpret it is how I will show it in the work.

Scape Walk

I’ve also noticed your use of urban landscapes. Towers, railway tracks, brick walls, bridges, road nets etc. are your preferred setting. What are you exploring in the urban environments?

You know, for a long time people imagined the so-called ‘African Art’ to be a primitive art with settings in the rural and as huts in the bush. But I live in Nairobi city. I have the same feeling in this city that I have when I go to London or any other major cities of the world. As an artist it is my responsibility to cease the moment right in front of me. I can only tell the story of my time. And the story of my time shows the environment where I live and spend most of my year: the city. To me, life right now evolves around the urban centres.

Another thing that strikes me about your settings is that they juxtapose something both backward and forward looking, something at once impressionistic, contemporary and futuristic. What is your take on that?

In my own interpretation, I tend to visualize things by judging based on the past, and trying to imagine them in the future. I believe that things that has happened before will happen again,. The sun will always rise in the East no matter what.  This is not new. And rocket science for instance is not new either. There is a biblical story, the Tower of Babel, that I have constructed a lot of work around. I reason that if people were brought together by the sense of reaching a God in heaven, and thus built a tower to get them there, something similar is happening today. You see, the only time when superpowers like Russia, China and America get together harmoniously, is when they want to go to the moon. Then they speak with one voice because they need each other. And to me, this story is very fascinating.

To imagine a future that is ignorant of the past and the present is vague. And so, as a visual communicator, I always try to imagine or fantasize of the future based on judgements that are done of the past and the present.

A Walk

Titleless

 
Something characteristic for your work as well is a continuous attempt to build bridges between opponents, between the positive and negative, physical and metaphysical, Africa and Europe. Does this occupy you a lot?

Yes, because as much as we may want to run away sometimes, the reality catches up with us. You know, I’m an artist born in Kenya, in an environment that never taught us to see and appreciate art. Then I trained in Europe where there’s a much higher appreciation and understanding of art. But while being in Germany, I always kept my Kenyan identity close. So then, I decided to use my art to bind worlds together, and for instance I decided to call my art Afro-European, because I see things more or less African and European at the same time. It doesn’t change who I am, but means that I see things as they are here and from different angles.

And what significance has your training and life in Germany had on your career as an artist in Kenya?

It’s had a big impact. I used to see things in a different way. As an African I must admit that we Africans are very literal and less conceptual. As much as I was very literal when I joined the University of Arts in Offenburg, I was still yearning to go conceptual, and somehow strike a balance between the literal and conceptual perceptions, and come up with artwork that had not been tried before. That’s why you’ll see that some of my works are looking a bit naïve and others are deepened into conceptual sides of life.

Life has two sides – a coin is only valid if it has two sides, the head and the tail. So for me the head and the tail is that we sometimes have to be interpretational and sometimes we have to go about life in a literal way. So I take two worlds again, trying to use the conceptual acquired knowledge to blend up an example of what is happening in the world around us. In life as well you have to strike a balance between different sides and opinion by the end of the day. At the end of the day, what I’m trying to express is what is before me.

The last couple of years you have experienced quite a lot of success –you’ve had solo shows in Kenya and will have one in Germany next month. How this success influenced your work?

I believe in creating what I have to create, and this is the only thing that influences me. I go into a work with an inspiration for what I want to do, and this is not determined by demands in the market. Because the demand might be there today, and be gone tomorrow, but that doesn’t mean that I will stop creating tomorrow. What it means is that I keep working as the inspiration is there and the ideas come home. I find it extremely difficult to bend my creativity to fit the needs of others. It doesn’t work for me. My success is driven by a curious mind, a mind that never gets satisfied. I always want to broaden my sight and go that extra mile to try out another thing, and another thing, and another… That’s basically my denominator when it comes to creation. So somehow, me and the market are good friends because of the people who has decided to appreciate my artwork as they found them, and that encourages me.

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Paul Onditi was born and raised in Kenya. After college he went to Germany where he studied arts at the Offenbach University of Arts. He has participated in many group shows in Kenya and Europe and has had several solo-shows in Kenya as well as in Germany. He has been runner up for the Nairobi Provincial Awards twice and he is one of eight Kenyan artists who are invited to the Bonhams Auction in London this year.

Soul in and Out

State of Mind 1

State of Mind 2

State of Mind 3

Money and Politics

Pop In

Baudouin Mouanda

By Hadrien Diez

They are young. They are skilled. They are fed up with the dark narrative international media keep reporting on their region. “Génération Elili”, the generation of the image in Lingala language, is a photographer collective born a few years ago in Brazzaville with the desire to see Congolese taking part in the building of their history. From urban jungles to deep forests, from disused shipyards to decaying railways they tell new, unheard-of stories and prove that creative photography is possible anywhere.

Documenting the city

Looking at Génération Elili’s work in their gallery of Bacongo, a vibrant neighbourhood of Brazzaville, or browsing their occasional exhibitions in town, one is struck by the diversity of techniques and approaches the collective proposes. Urban documentary photography takes a fair share of the attention. Works such as Boudouin Mouanda’s, a founding member of the collective, evoke the life of students at night. “Streets are a second home for them” says Boudouin. “There they can hang out together, meet new people and dream of rosy futures.”

Khelly Manou de Mahoungou: Une fille sortant de la gargotte de coupé coupé en courant une manière d’exprimer sa joie et sa satisfaction

Émilie Wattelier

Émilie Wattelier

Some use photography to cast the light on social problems. With her “Coupé-Coupé” series, Khelly Manou de Mahoungou explains the phenomenon of the low-cost meat that is increasingly popular in the streets of Brazzaville and Kinshasa, in neighbouring DRC. To get around the rising price of food, growing numbers of Congolese buy their meat from informal eateries, where quality control never occurs. A plate of “coupé-coupé” costs about the sixth of a kilo of fresh meat, and the choice is swiftly made.

Others prefer not to tell particular stories. They show the city as it comes to them: enormous, sprawling, ebullient craters where the lives of millions collide in the never-ending rumour of traffic jams. Add to this cocktail the absence of street lighting at night and you obtain the perfect hunting ground for photographers with a liking for urban landscape. Émilie Wattelier, a French woman based in Brazzaville, finds beauty in these dark atmospheres. “An African city on the equator line… The night falls early and at once… In this shade, one passes by ghostly silhouettes… At night, all the places are the same…” she writes as a label for her work.

Finding new ways

Others have more experimental endeavours. In “Elsewhere – a view from Elsewhere”, Richard Goma proposes a daring superposition of parallels universes: nature and cities. The result is troubling, images of garbage surmounting pristine canopies or cars lost in dense forests. “My work is a call to urban planners: they should consider the benefits of nature in their work. Flora is essential to fight against erosion or to give oxygen to our cities” he says. Goma’s work reminds of a nagging problem: in Congo as in other parts of the globe, massive urbanisation and poor urban planning have devastating effects on human health and the environment.

Richard Goma: Vue d’ailleurs

Richard Goma: Superposition I

Francis Kodia: Cimetière des Épaves

In a complete different aesthetic, but with a similar thinking, Francis Kodia presents a reflection on shipwrecks. There, among rusted carcasses or in humid containers, he meets a strange fauna: tramps looking for a temporary shelter, welders trying to fix what can be fixed, scrap merchants having just found their new El Dorado. Through the poetry of his work, Kodia wants to raise awareness. “The shipyard has destroyed our landscape” he explains. “And one must not forget that these shipwrecks massively pollute the river with significant leaks of oil and chemicals.”

Finally, Génération Elili counts daydreamers in its ranks. Arnaud Makalou, the artistic director of the collective, just finished a work where he uses railways as a mean to wander about in the country. “Railways link extremities together. Few people are aware of it, but railways are built for humanity to send itself messages.” Along Congolese decayed rail lines, Makalou encounters the country’s people – ageing seasonal workers, voluptuous women, mischievous boys – and discovers incredible landscapes.

Passing on creativity

Promoting contemporary artistic creation in their country has become a cornerstone of Génération Elili’s activities. Over the years, the collective has significantly matured. Today, it counts about 20 active members. They have developed partnerships with different institutions and captured the attention of big names of world photography. Hector Mediavilla and Philippe Guionie, two major contemporary documentary photographers, and Philippe Damoison, renowned for his portraits, have all supported the collective by giving master-classes.

Arnaud Makalou

In a Congolese society often cast by external commentators as docile and passive, Elili aims to plant a seed that will keep growing. “Everything started from emulation. Years ago, five of us had the chance to attend photography classes sponsored by a cooperation program. After this training, they started to teach others and the collective was born” explains Arnaud Makalou. “Today we want to repeat that story. We work with orphans, teaching them the techniques of photography, encouraging them to show their own perception of reality. It is not only about technical skills. We want them to be artistically aware.”

Taking pictures for fun or as a testimony, moved by beauty or to documenting their condition: the collective Elili wants to make sure that Congolese kids finally have the means to tell their own history.

For news and updates on Génération Elili visit the collective’s website and blog.

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About the writer: Hadrien Diez is a free-lance cultural journalist based in Nairobi, Kenya. Passionate about the vibrant African artistic scene, he endeavours to introduce it to Western audiences through several websites based in Europe and the US. Writing both in English and French, Hadrien likes to see his work as a platform between Francophone and Anglophone Africa. In that respect, he regularly drafts portraits of Francophone artists for various publications in English.

Richard Russell is the boss of XL Recordings (home of Radiohead, Vampire Weekend, Jack White etc.) and the producer of recent classics such as the late Gil Scott-Heron’s I’m New Here and Bobby Womack’s The Bravest Man in the Universe (together with Damon Albarn). In 2010 Richard travelled to Harar, Ethiopia, as part of the Africa Express along with fellow producer Rodaidh McDonald. Their Ethiopian visit resulted in the release of the four track Ethiopian EP last year on Angular Records under the name Fresh Touch (named after a Harari restaurant).

The lead track Harar Rythm is a co-production with Nick Zinner of Yeah Yeah Yeahs and is accompanied by a stunning video of archival footage of Ethiopian landscapes, Harari musicians as well as Emperor Haile Selassie (who was born in a village close to Harar). Harar Rythm and the other tracks on the EP is a thrilling mix of traditional Ethiopian chanting, clapping, various other sounds recorded in buses and hotel rooms across Ethiopia together with electronic loops and samples. The result is fairly unique and throroughly hypnotic.

Richard Russell. Photo: Sarah Lee

We recently got the chance to ask Richard about the wisdom he gained in Ethiopia. Find out how the Ethiopian visit influenced his recent productions and tune into Harar Rhytm below:

Although the Ethiopian musical tradition is incredible rich and nuanced, many foreigners’ knowledge of Ethiopian music is still limited to Mulatu Astatke’s ethio jazz. Was it a deliberate choice from your side that you wanted to do something very far from ethio jazz?

There wasn’t any plan. We didn’t even know we were making an EP. We were just inspired to create by our surroundings. Ethiopia is an extraordinarily inspiring place. It has an energy completely unlike anywhere else in the world.

How was it working in Ethiopia compared to your recent experience recording in DR Congo?

Everything about our trip to Ethiopia was different from our trip to DRC. Both were life-changing, and from a musical perspective you couldn’t ask for more broadening experiences. We went to Ethiopia simply to learn, to experience places. We ended up making an EP. It was very laid back. Whereas we went to DRC specifically to make an album for Warp, in a short space of time, so there was a bit more pressure. It felt like Kinshasa and Addis are like different planets… but I guess we see the world, as we are, rather than it actually is… so I’m sure our state of mind would have a big impact on what we thought of the place. Equally you only scratch the surface of any place on a visit like this, it would be amazing to spend more time in a place like Addis, in this lifetime or another…

Are there any particular techniques, experiences or other wisdom gained in Ethiopia that you have been able to use in your work afterwards?

I’ve probably carried the feeling of my visit to Ethiopia into everything I’ve done since. My rhythmic contributions to the album I produced for Bobby Womack with Damon Albarn were definitely influenced by things I learned in Ethiopia… not neccesarily in an overt way, but you can’t not be influenced by visiting somewhere as special as Ethiopia. I’d encourage any musician but especially anyone who is interested in rhythms to visit Ethiopia, because you end up learning so much, just by being there.

I picked up on a gentle spirit in Ethiopia, a sort of female spirit… strong, but gentle. Thats a great spirit for creativity… you have to be rugged to be a musician or producer, but you also have to be very sensitive, very open. We listened to some singers in a church in Harar who had many of us in tears, just the sheer beauty and power of the sounds they were making. I felt privileged to have witnessed that, and I’m grateful to have had the experience. And hopefully through trips like these we get to encourage the dialogue between African and Western musicians, its a gradual thing…

Somalia seems to have finally turned the corner. In 2011 Al-Shabaab withdrew from Mogadishu and last year Somalia’s first formal parliament in more than 20 years was sworn in. Now Mogadishu is booming with a returning diaspora and skyrocketing house prices. What is next for Somalia? A music revival against the odds?

The Somali hiphop collective Waayaha Cusub (meaning ‘new era’ in Somali) recently launched the Somali Sunrise Tour for Peace 2013 which will peak Wednesday and Thursday this week with the Mogadishu Music Festival. Yes, the festival is actually taking place in Mogadishu. The Somali Sunrise Tour is headlined by Waayaha Cusub and has featured performances by Somali stars as K’naan along with international acts from Afghanistan, Kenya, Sudan and the US. This festival – the first modern concert to take place in Mogadishu in two decades –  is co-produced by the Humanitarian Bazaar who is also behind the brilliant ‘Music Too Powerful to Ban’ documentary about the brave young Somali musicians defying Al-Shabaab to promote peace in their country through music.

Members of Waayaha Cusub. Photo: Reuters

While Somalia has become more secure it is still far from safe. And music shopping in Somalia is still something of a challenge as I discovered during a recent visit to the country. Safety is the obvious hurdle to crate digging in Somalia but the limited availability of music is another obstacle. After the collapse of the Siad Barre’s regime in the early 90′s many musicians fled Somalia. In recent years,  the ban on music (as well as movies, public sports watching on tv etc.) enforced by Al-Shabaab made most privately owned radio stations turn off music leading to a further weakening of the music scene in the country. The return to Mogadishu of musicians like Waayaha Cusub is the best testimony of a tide that is at last turning for Somali music.

While we are waiting for the Mogadishu music scene to bloom once again we are lucky to have Awesome Tapes From Africa around. Last week the blog/label reissued the incredible ‘Volume 5′ by Dur-Dur Band, one of the most popular bands in Somalia in the 1980′s, ensuring that these legendary recordings by Dur-Dur (meaning ‘little stream’ in Somali) are finally accessible to a broader audience. I was lucky to – via skype from Nairobi to Columbus, Ohio – get the chance to talk to Abdinur Daljir, one of the famous Dur-Dur singers featured on Voulme 5 (1987). I asked him what happened to Dur-Dur Band and their music in the past two decades after they left Somalia in 1992.

”First we went to Ethiopia, later some of us settled in Ohio, some band members went to London, others to Nairobi. We have spread all over the world but we still keep in contact,” he tells me. In Ethiopia, Dur-Dur performed and recorded in Negelle Borena and Somali region in the south of Ethiopia as well as in Addis on numerous occasions. They played with great Ethiopian singers such as Tilahun Gessesse and Mahmoud Ahmed plus Sudanese legend Mohammed Wardi at the national stadium in Addis. In Columbus, Ohio, they later performed with another Ethiopian music icon, Ali Birra, who Abdinur without hesitation names the greatest artist of Ethiopia.

In Mogadishu much have changed since Abdinur and the rest of Dur-Dur Band left. “The situation there now is not so bad but being a musician in Somalia is still dangerous,” he underlines. Throughout our conversation it appears that insecurity has been one of the few constant elements over the past decades for musicians in Somalia although the sources of insecurity have changed considerably. ”Now there’s no government. Back then the government was strong but it was still be dangerous to be a musician. Especially if your lyrics did not follow the government rules. We did not sing what the government told us to,” Abdinur explains. He adds that while the band was not popular with Siad Barre’s government, most Somalis adored Dur-Dur: ”The people of Somalia loved us. We were some of the best Somali musicians at that time.”

Abdinur tells me that the last time the Dur-Dur collective played together in the original line-up was 10 years ago in Ethiopia. Now they are eager to reunite and a potential return to Somalia is not out of the question. Abdinur has not been back to Somalia since 1992 but other Dur-Dur members have recently revisited Mogadishu. ”We are still waiting for peace. Then we will go back. And we will perform there again. Inshallah,” he emphasizes. While Dur-Dur Band’s return to Mogadishu might not be imminent,  Abdinur reveals that the band has concerts scheduled in London in May and possibly also in Nairobi and Djibouti in August. My fingers are crossed for a joint performance with the Dur-Dur heirs in Waayaha Cusub. Inshallah.

For further insights on Dur-Dur Band have a look at the great work done by Kezira and Likembe (The Dur-Dur tape posted by Kezira features the ‘Ethiopian Girl’ cover version of London Beat’s ‘I’ve Been Thinking About You’ among other gems). Dur-Dur Band also has a presence on Facebook. Corrections and comments to the above are welcome.  

All photos © Pedro Matos

Fashion is usually not the first thing that comes to mind when Darfur is the topic of discussion. Pedro Matos who worked three years in Darfur is slowly changing this through The Darfur Sartorialist. We asked Pedro why Darfur is fashion and how life is as a street photographer in Darfur. Read his thrilling story from Sudan and enjoy the beautiful images that Pedro shared with us.

Why is Darfur fashionable and what does the typical Sudanese fashion dress code look like for men and women?

The array of fabric patterns and the mix between the traditional abaya (arab tunic), the toub (many meters of colourful cloth wrapped around the body and head), and the westernised fashion made popular by Egyptian soap operas is incredible. You can find women combining tunics with chinese-made Chanel belts, with orange denim jackets matching their headscarf, or with pointy high-heeled shoes in desert sand streets. Men’s fashion is considerably more dull. Most men will wear a white jalabiya with or without a turbant, with white trousers underneath and white or leopard-pattern shoes. City people working in services (companies, public administration) will often wear a westernised outfit with pressed trousers and an untucked shirt in bland colours. Young people are now starting to show up in football shirts as a fashion statement.

What motivated you to start The Darfur Sartorialist?

I started The Darfur Sartorialist project when I realised the Sudanese did not fit at all with my pre-conceived image of the country. Women, in particular, were way more complex than the cliche of the oppressed, conservatively dressed, constantly fearing Muslim woman. Women in Darfur do not have the same opportunities or access to power as men, but in a way, it’s not that much different than in most of our countries. They are bound by cultural moral and societal codes, but they enjoy quite a lot of freedom in Darfur. I often dealt with women in mid-level positions in Sudanese ministries, the clothing was often quite bold, and there was a constant flirting between women and men in daily life.The project attempts to depict a little bit of that, while showing that the West is often bound by cultural codes (albeit different ones) that self-censor us into never dressing in certain ways. Finding an 80-year old woman dressed in bright orange or green would be frowned upon in most of the West, and there’s a few of those in The Darfur Sartorialist collection. That is not to say that Sudan is a freer country than most, it is not. But as muslim countries go, women and men enjoy one of the most free environments to mix and to express themselves through clothing. And that’s what The Darfur Sartorialist aimed to depict, without any captions or judgement from my side that would attempt to context the pictures. I try to leave the surprise and questioning to the viewer, hope it works!

Who are the people you portray and what is your relationship with them?

All photos are of people in Darfur, often internally-displaced living in camps or Darfuris working with humanitarian agencies assisting them. I found interesting the fact that is not always easy to distinguish which one is which. I know most of the people depicted in the photos, either because they were working with me, or because I spent a long time in the camps and became friends with some of the residents.

Taking photos in Sudan can be tricky and dangerous. How did you go about the official restraints and did you experience any skepticism or reluctance from the people you approached with your camera?

It’s true that the Government of Sudan does not particularly like foreigners going around taking photos. The list of things that may be considered sensitive is so long, one is bound to eventually run into government officials questioning you for photographing. Eventually, I spent so much time working side by side with people from the security services that a cordial relationship developed. After that point, the suspicion reduced considerably and that’s when most of the photos were taken.

What or who has surprised you most in the work with The Darfur Sartorialist?

The women with some of the boldest colour and clothing combinations I have ever seen, and the fact that it is almost impossible to see two women with the same outfit. In our Western world of fashionable dark colours and standardised Mango’s, Zara’s and H&M’s, we kind of forget how many possibilities for clothing combinations lie open before us.

The founder of the Sartorialist blog, Scott Schuman, now does features on fashionable and well-dressed people from across the globe and he recently visited South Africa for the first time. Do you have plans as well of shedding new light on other countries or regions that like Darfur suffer from bad images and misconceptions?

I am not sure yet… I am not a professional photographer and there are people out there photographing the known reality much better than me. I felt the need to launch The Darfur Sartorialist because I thought it was a story waiting to be shown, and a side of the reality the media never tells, with it’s constant depiction of Africa and the Muslim world under the same light. If I don’t find the same type of untold stories elsewhere, I will simply enjoy the photos of professional photographers showing the reality I see in a much more beautiful way than I could possibly could!

Vincent Moon filming artists from the Debre Berhan circus. Photo: Jacob Kierkegaard.

“Ethiopia is an island,” Vincent Moon explains. The French filmmaker has been on the road for four years now travelling and filming music and spiritual rituals across the globe and releasing them through his Petites Planètes label. 2012 saw him spending three months in Ethiopia exploring and recording Easter in Gonder and the sounds of Merkato among other things – either alone or with sound artist Jacob Kirkegaard (who we recently interviewed).

We caught up with Vincent after he left Ethiopia and asked him to reflect on the struggles and rewards of filming in the country, his explorations of sacred music and trance in Ethiopia and how his nomadic life is transforming him into a chameleon. Read his fascinating story below and enjoy the two incredible films that Vincent and Jacob graciously agreed to give an exclusive first release on Addis Rumble: GAMOGAMO depicting the polyphonic singing of the Gamo tribe and THE HARP OF KING DAVID portraying the legendary begena player Alemu Aga.

You have been traveling around the world documenting musicians for a few years now. What made you come to Ethiopia?

It’s a decision I took one day after exchanging mails with Danish fellow artists Jacob Kirkegaard and Malene Nielsen, who already knew the country. They wanted to collaborate on a project made there, I jumped on the idea as I dreamed for a long time of Ethiopia, and I decided to go. When I take a decision I usually never come back on it, so it was stuck in my mind. In the end Malene didn’t come and we made a very different project with Jacob but life took us on this path.

How does your work typically take form when coming to a new country? Where do you start and do you have any common themes that you explore across the countries you are visiting?

Usually I travel with a few contacts in a country, some people who have been in touch with me maybe in the past years (showing my films, or just exchanging ideas about music and cinema) and with whom I kept in touch and proposed them to produce some local films in their own city, country. I never work with professionals and I am always more inclined towards people who have never done anything like this – same for sound recording actually, I tend to ask local people to record the sounds of a shooting and I explain them on the spot what to do with it. So to collaborate with Jacob was definitely a very different challenge.

But as for me coming to Ethiopia in the first place, this time I had almost no contacts at all in the country and I thought maybe a bit too optimistically that I would find them there. Well, things went a bit more complicated! I arrived in the country two months before Jacob and went to explore many parts, the north, the east, the south. And I ran into so many problems it was almost like a joke. I really had a terrible time for a while there, until things started to get more harmonized. I didn’t have many plans beforehand anyway in terms of recording, all I knew was that, as I was familiar obviously with the Ethiopiques releases made by Falceto, I wanted to avoid anything related to it and dig into the unknown for me. Apart from Alemu Aga with whom we made a very nice recording (and God how wonderful this man is, it was a light in my trip), all the other ‘music’ I recorded there, I had no idea they were existing just a few weeks ago. There was maybe a common theme, which is something I am researching in all my travels now – exploring the sacred music, and relationships of the people with any religious rituals.

What was your approach to filming in Ethiopia? How much of your work done in Ethiopia was planned beforehand, and how much of it was improvised?

As said before, I don’t like to plan much as I give myself a lot of time in the places I visit. In Ethiopia, I didn’t plan anything specific, and I found all my subjects there on the spot. This is apart from Alemu Aga maybe, whose record I loved so much and which sounded from another planet, so I contacted him as soon as I arrived and proposed him a film – I waited to the end of my trip and the coming of Jacob to make it sound fantastic. I met the Gamo people from Addis early on and planned a recording later, again waiting for Jacob to arrive to make it better.

While hanging out at the Taitu Hotel and talking with some funny explorers there (I love Taitu for the incredible characters you bump into), I met some people who told me about the Zar practices still happening in the north and about the exorcism rituals in Addis Ababa. It’s through Japanese ethnographer Itsushi Kawasse that I heard about the Lalibalocc tradition. I planned to visit Gondar during Easter and wanted to make a recording of the ceremony, which I did in this magnificent Debre Berhan Selassie church. I went to Harar with the intention of reaching the Zikris rituals and I met there with Amir Redwan who opened the doors of its ‘nabi gal’ for me. And it’s Jacob Kirkegaard who told me about the fabulous sounds we could record in Merkato. All in all, you could say it was often very much improvised on the spot, with some intense researches made the days before in the same area.

Jacob & Vincent at Emperor Menelik’s palace in Entoto.

How is filming in Ethiopia different from of some of your other recent destinations?

To put it simply, so much more complicated! Ah, I laugh about it now but at the time, it was driving me crazy. Since then I have been traveling through Ukraine and the North Caucasus of Russia recording ancient music, and it’s been such a contrast, so easy on everything, that I looked back to those 3 months spent in Ethiopia with a very different feeling. In Ethiopia, first thing people didn’t care at all about being recorded. Most of the musicians I ran into were so pretentious and asked for so much money to perform (I never paid any musicians before for the recordings, so the contrast was a bit tough) that I was feeling very awkward – I didn’t have any money to give them, being completely broke myself (bad idea, you can travel being broke in many places around the world, but not in Ethiopia), and the simple fact of paying someone to perform was something I avoided always to keep a ‘true’ relationship to the musicians. Was I wrong? Maybe. So I paid most of the people I filmed in Ethiopia. Did they play better because of the money? I don’t think so. Did it create a weird relationship on my side? Most of the time, but it’s my own fault. I remember this quote from Michel Leiris: “Africa does not need me”. Well, Ethiopia didn’t need me!

For outsiders coming to Ethiopia the first time, Ethiopia often seems like a unique, closed and secretive society with strong traditions difficult to understand and interpretate. What was your experience like? Could you get access to the subjects, places, and ideas you wanted to work with?

Ethiopia is an island in my mind, that’s how I see the country – being so cut off from its neighbors because of its mountainous land, developing a unique culture in Africa and so on…. We know the story now. It’s a fascinating place, incredibly beautiful and with such unique traditions, I was quite blown away. I didn’t find it hard to access at all, people being very open although complicated to deal with sometimes. As long as you keep in mind that spirituality here have still a strong meaning, you can navigate easily and spend a fabulous time immersed in the culture. As I said, my only difficulty in terms of shooting was that almost no musicians was interested in what I wanted to do. I completely understand it although I suffered a lot from it. But you know, the eternal faranji paradox….

Your films from Ethiopia are quite an eclectic mix – from the sounds of Merkato via the begegna of Alemu Aga to the polyphonic singing of the Gamo and Dorze tribes etc. Do you have any favorites among your films done in Ethiopia?

Maybe two favorites. The most beautiful experience shooting was the Fasika (Easter) night in Gonder. I was alone and wanted to access the church for the ritual, I tried to get some contacts in town the days before but all of them were so unreliable that I dropped them and just went by myself, late afternoon. I was there before anybody, and little by little the church started to get filled with priests and so on. All of them were surprised to see me and asked me what I was doing, I just said I was curious, that I was a catholic who wanted to switch to orthodoxy. Little by little over 4 hours I gained their confidence by looking and smiling at each of them and then at one moment of the night I took my camera out of my bag. Nobody then asked me what I was doing, if I was making a film or anything like that. They just took me with them until the end of the night. It was a very powerful experience, and a very beautiful film although anybody who knows about the church in Ethiopia will probably look at it without any interest.

The second favorite recording was with Tilahun, the Lalibela singer. I got his contact through Kawasse, I called him and he asked for so much money that we couldn’t find an agreement. Two days later he calls me back and says he is in Addis, ready to record. I ask him to share a coffee with me, and bargain with him, smashing the table, saying this will be one of the most important moment of our lives. He is a beautiful soul, very quiet and he gets my point even though I used the aggressive method. He leaves and I realize I even forgot to ask him to sing! I don’t know at all how good he is. Very early next morning we are with Jacob in the dark streets of Addis, following this tall shadow going from one house to another, wondering why the hell did we woke up so early. He starts finally to sing in front of a door, his voice reaches such heights that we all shake. Maybe the most beautiful voice I ever recorded.

Vincent & Jacob recording Tilahun. Photo: Naode Lemma.

Several of your films from Ethiopia focus on the mix of music, religion and rituals, e.g. the Orthodox Easter ceremony in Gonder, the sufism tradition in Harar and exorcism rituals at Entoto Maryam. Was this a specific objective from your side or the result of Ethiopia being a very religious society?

I enjoyed very much Ethiopia being a strong spiritual place, but my choice to make such recordings already started in my recent researches on religious rituals, on relationships between music, trance and so on. I already made some films on Zar ceremony in Cairo (although there it’s a quite different story), filmed various sufi rituals in Indonesia, recorded trance rituals amongst afro-brazilian religions, made many experiences with shamanism and so on in Colombia or the Philippines. It’s a personal spiritual quest which is maybe my main objective in life nowadays.

When the conversation turns to Ethiopia, most non-Ethiopians still think of famine and long-distance runners. What is the first thing that comes to your mind?

Nowadays when I think back I remember a country so unique in its culture that it has no equivalent in the world. And I really wish I can go back there soon, and explore more of the southern part of it, the richness of its animism and so on. Also comes back to mind this extreme tension between a culture so rich, a nature so beautiful, and an economy so poor that it really made you seriously question the way we want things to evolve in such a place.

What started your move from doing the Take Away Shows of indie musicians (and others) to recording traditional music across the globe through the Petit Planètes series?

Curiosity, to put it simply. I can’t stop moving and doing something else, it’s more a sickness than anything else. 4 years ago I was still in Paris, still recording indie music, and I ended up homeless by accident and started to travel, invited in various places around the world. At first I continued to record indie music, in Chile, in Argentina, but then little by little I was more and more drawn into traditional music, ancient singings, sacred music and so on. It’s a very natural move I think for someone who travels, you leave your culture little by little, not from one day to another, and start to adopt other cultures for a short period of time. You become a sort of chameleon, your personality changes everyday and life appears as a game, a new adventure all the time.

And what keeps you motivated now after years on the road – the need to document and archive musical heritage, eagerness to explore the world, restless?

A mix of all this, but especially the feeling of being younger and younger everyday living such a life. There is no tomorrow, just the excitement of being with people you didn’t know anything about 5 minutes before and having an intense experience.

All Vincent’s films from Ethiopia will be available for free at Collection Petites Planetes here and there and at VincentMoon.com. 

Wanja’s works evolve around personal topics and the experiences of migration; the constant feeling of being in-between home and the longing for familiarity. Her artworks touch upon issues such as cultural adherence, identity, separation, and remembrance. Through various media, she weaves visual stories, reflecting personal considerations on ideas of home and displacement, memories and imagination, that are at once deep, melancholic and thought awakening.

Addis Rumble met Wanja on an October afternoon in the Serenade Art House in Addis Ababa. Although she has lived in the city for a while, she too got lost in the labyrinthic neighborhood of Amest Kilo where the gallery is situated. When we finally found each other she told me how it always amuses her that when she asks for directions, people assume she is Ethiopian and are inevitably shocked when they learn her Amharic is very limited.  The expectations and the whole newness about everything in Ethiopia kick a nerve in her. We had a long chat about her settling down in-between her two home countries, the challenges and fortunes a life as a diaspora brings, and how her art is a tool that allows her to make sense of her surroundings and the internal changes that take place within her on a daily basis.

You Have Not Changed, Wanja Kimani 2011

You Have Not Changed detail, Wanja Kimani, 2011

You Have (Not) Changed

Wanja’s recent works are recorded performances presented as video-works. You Have Not Changed (2012) was featured at DAK’ART Biennale for Contemporary African Art in 2012. The installation reflected the vulnerability of remembrance and longing between a father and her estranged daughter. A lace dress, worn at the moment of separation is elaborately embroided with the words exchanged between the father and daughter after 18 years of separation – hung on a washing line. Few days after the exhibition opened, the dress was stolen and Wanja responded by creating a new piece of work.

“After the dress was stolen, people were apologetic. It felt like I had lost someone rather than something. With the help of Claudia Zeiske, I created a participatory performance where I asked people to come and donate a piece of clothing and put it on the washing line, which was now empty. I explained the reason for the performance and made a call-out for anyone who might have the dress to return it or to send me a picture of the little girl who was wearing it as a way of tracing the new life the dress had taken on. People came and it became a communal celebration of the loss. There is something precious about ephemeral work, which links back to the idea of the fragility of memory.”

Concurrently the title of the work was adjusted to You Have Changed(2012). In many ways Wanja’s work at DAK’ART grew bigger with this unexpected change of plans. It created conversations with people on the topics of loss, remembrance and how objects can be closely tied to our memory of someone or something.

A sense of loss is a universal thing. It is something we all have experienced, will experience and thus can all relate to and Wanja is interested in the very objectification of the loss. She pinpoints that these feelings of loss are not something exclusive for a person living in the diaspora, but are rather common feelings for people anywhere in the world.

Works in progress

Wanja is currently developing two series of works entitled, Utopia and Objects of Memory, which simultaneously explore and reflect upon the fragility of memory, imagination and absence.

“Objects of Memory and Utopia are about memory, the imagination, on how you can imagine a memory that isn’t real. My memory of growing up in Kenya is based on personal snapshots, stories from older family members and what the media choose to show. When I visit, the place has evolved and my memories need to keep up. I’m interested in how objects can contribute to memory, our relationship to that object and how it changes over time.”

Her recent short film, Utopia (2012), which was featured at in the 4^th Short Video Biennial at the P74 Centre and Gallery, Llubjana and Institute for Contemporary Art, Zagreb, tells the story of someone who has arrived in their utopia.  It ties on to the relationship between the migration to the West; a journey that many take in the hope of finding something better and the reality that awaits them.

“The film does not focus on the negative side of immigrant life, but highlights the fact that stories and images of their destination is not always accurate in the same way that images of countries in Africa are often incomplete. Similarly, many living in the diaspora may carry certain ideas of the countries they left, which at times is not the reality that awaits them upon their return.”

Utopia still 1, Wanja Kimani, 2012

Utopia still 3, Wanja Kimani,2012

Utopia in Ethiopia?

Common for all of Wanja’s works are the close relation to her own story and experiences of living between countries and somehow creating her own Utopia: “This kind of in-between place is where I’m most content. It’s not just a physical space, but a place in the mind where I can appreciate migration as the creative act that it is.”

So, is Ethiopia Wanja’s own personal Utopia? At least it seems to suit the artist well to live in between the two countries that shaped her and to subtract fresh inspiration and food for thought from her new home country. To Wanja, exploring a new country does not only mean meeting new people, seeing new places, learning a new language, but also exploring within yourself as well. “Being in a new country is like being a child again. It enables me to see things from a new perspective, ask simple questions and engage with people and the place without the hinderances that can sometimes accompany familiarity”, she explains.

Wanja Kimani is currently developing works for a number of projects and exhibitions in 2013. For further information, please visit her website: www.wanjakimani.weebly.com.

Additional works:

SILENT WITNESS, 2009. Video work, duration: 2:04

BUTTONS, 2012. Video. Duration: 2:07

BUTTONS, 2012. Video. Duration: 2:07

BUTTONS II, 2012. Acrylic buttons on cotton. 15 x 25 cm.

The team of 1962, the last and only Ethiopian team to win the Africa Cup of Nations. Photo: Bezabeh Abetew

It has been a long time coming. The Ethiopian national team has been rare guest at the Africa Cup of Nations. In the years after the inaugural tournament in 1957 – in which only three teams took part and Ethiopia got a wild card to the final – the ‘Walaya Antelopes’ was a dominant force in African football winning the cup in 1962 on home turf in Addis Ababa and reaching the semifinals in 1963 and 1968. However, the glorious period of the 60′s was followed by four dismal decades and not a single participation in the tournament since 1982.

This week Ethiopia is making a surprise comeback at the 2013 Cup of Nations in South Africa after knocking out neighboring rivals Sudan through an aggregate 5-5 draw in the final qualification round. In the days after the qualification was secured in October last year, Addis seemed like a transformed city. Previously you would hardly notice any football celebrations in the city scape (other than of the usual English Premier League teams) but following the qualification most of the capital’s blue taxies and mini busses – usually the best way of distilling public opinion – started displaying posters of the national team with a ‘Yes We Can’ text added.

Despite being drawn in a tough group with defending champions Zambia, Nigeria and Burkina Faso, expectations are high in Addis. The manager of  ’Abeba Grocery’, our local neighborhood bar, recently told us he was convinced that the Walayas would bring home the cup for the first time in half a century and he has even invested in a TV to be able to watch Ethiopia’s matches. At official level, the hopes for a new golden decade for Ethiopian football are just as high. A new 60000-seat national arena is being planned along with a potential bid to host the Africa Cup of Nations in the near future.

At Addis Rumble, we keep our fingers crossed for the Walayas and we celebrate Ethiopia’s return to Africa’s finest football forum with a tour down memory lane through the photo archives. Enjoy the ride.

The legendary team of 1962, coached by Yidnekatchew Tessema who went on to become President of the African Football Confederation (CAF) as well as Ethiopian Olympic Committee. Some of the outstanding players on the team included Mengistu Worku who scored twice in the final as well as the Italo and Luciano Vassalo brothers.

1962 captain Luciano Vassalo receiving the cup from Emperor Haile Selassie. The Ethiopians defeated rivals Egypt 4-2 in a thrilling final. Photo: Bezabeh Anbetew

The 1962 team celebrates victory.

The 1960′s team on a visit to Moscow.

The team of 1968

Luciano Vassalo during Ethiopia’s match against Ivory Coast at the 1968 finals.

Footage from the 1968 Cup final between Congo and Ghana played in Addis Ababa and attended by his Emperor Haile Selassie. Congo won the game 1-0 to clinch their first Cup title while Ethiopia finished 4th.

The Ethiopian national team of the early 1970′s.

The team of 2012 that qualified Ethiopia to her first Africa Cup finals in 30 years.

The rumours of Ali Birra’s death have been greatly exaggerated. During his career, Ali has not only been jailed dozens of times. He has also been reported death more than once. First in the mid-70’s when the authorities in his home town of Dire Dawa told Ali’s father to travel to Addis Ababa to collect the corpse of his son. The father found Ali sleeping in hotel, rather hung over from the previous night’s performance, but still very much alive. In the past decade, the rumours of Ali’s death surfaced again and in 2009 he was announced dead on Wikipedia. In late 2012 in Addis Ababa, I met Ali – still alive and thriving – and he told me that the untimely obituaries and imprisonments are the price he has had to pay for playing Oromo music and promoting Oromo culture.

A story untold

The past decade has seen an implausible but well-deserved rediscovery of the astonishing Ethiopian music of the 1960’s and 1970’s. Artists like Tilahun Gessesse, Mahmoud Ahmed and Alemayehu Eshete have become known and celebrated outside Ethiopia. However, the majority of the attention has been given to Amharic music from Addis. One important legacy that has until now been left largely untold is the music of the Oromos, the largest ethnic group of Ethiopia numbering around 30 million people and occupying a territory the size of Italy stretching from the Sudanese border in the west, to Harar and Dire Dawa in the far Eastern Ethiopia and to Borena in the south on the Kenyan border. With Ali Birra’s own words: “Oromo music is still a virgin that has been left yet untouched.”

For several decades from the mid-60’s and onwards, Ali Birra was the most prominent representative of modern Oromo music. He was part of a golden generation of Ethiopian musicians, performing with the greatest artists and orchestras of the time but being Oromo he was always an outsider in relation to the Amharic musicians of his time. Yet for many Oromos, he was a hero, fighting their cause at a time where the promotion of Oromo culture was illegal and singing in Oromo language banned.

Half a century on

Ali Birra left Ethiopia in 1984 and has since been back only sporadically. But he has not been forgotten. Heading for lunch we tried in vain to find a restaurant where devoted fans would not overwhelm Ali. Throughout the day his phone was red-hot with new and old friends checking in and while driving around Addis with Ali, we were met by a continuous honking and passengers shouting ’we love you Ali’ through the car windows. This was Addis 2012 but felt more like driving around with Fela Kuti in Lagos in the 70’s.

Ali has returned home to Ethiopia to launch his own NGO called Birra Children’s Education Fund. He wants to give something back to Ethiopia and has started support programmes for children in one school in Dire Dawa and one in Galamso in West Hararge. “My father always told me that educated people know how to fight for their rights and to respect the rights of others,’’ Ali explains. He now hopes to expand the programme to other schools around the country.

He has also come back to Ethiopia for musical reasons. In 2013, Ali is celebrating his 50-year anniversary on the music scene and he is planning to commemorate this landmark with concerts in Addis and at home turf in Dire Dawa as well as with the release of one final record before retiring. During our chat, his wife Lily plays some of Ali’s newly recorded songs but Ali insists it is still a work in progress. “These things have to be done properly,” he emphasizes.

Ali Birra at the launch of his school support programme in Galamso, Western Ethiopia, November 2012. Photo: Lily Birra

The Oromo teacher

“I was lucky to be singer at a time with few Oromo singers around. I got the chance to influence people and their thinking. To be a teacher. To engrave my thoughts in peoples’ minds. The young Oromo musicians now are tough but they have not achieved this yet,” Ali tells me. And things certainly were tough in Dire Dawa in the early 60’s when Ali aged 14 at the time formed his first band Hiriyaa Jaalalaa and soon after started performing with the group called Afran Qallo or Urji Bachalchaa. Being an Oromo musician back then was risky business. Singing in Oromifa was illegal and the band members handed out their records to people on the streets as no Oromo music was allowed on the radio. “We were very young and courageous at that time,” Ali admits.

The emergence of Afran Qallo can be considered an early dawn for modern Oromo music and it was at a concert with this group that Ali earned himself his screen name – Birra meaning ‘spring’ or ‘break of dawn’ in Oromifa – through the singing of the ’Birra dha Barihe’ song. In 1964, the group was invited to play in neighbouring Djibouti but the 11 band members were denied permission to leave Ethiopia and had their music instruments destroyed. They decided to split in smaller fractions and travel anyway but when Ali arrived in Djibouti, he was arrested and detained for a month. On New Year’s Eve of 1964, Ali and three of his band members returned to Ethiopia and the next day, January 1^st 1965, they were again arrested. Ali who had now turned 16 spent the next six months in prison, jailed for singing in his own language and celebrating his culture. “I still remember it vividly. From that time on I knew that I wanted to fight for the rights of my people,” he recounts.

After his release Ali was still detained on numerous occasions, sometimes for weeks, sometimes for months, until he in 1966 left Dire Dawa for Addis. But although he left Oromia and 20 years later left Ethiopia, Ali has never stopped being a strong and outspoken Oromo advocate. Seven years ago he met with the late Ethiopian Prime Minister Meles Zenawi to discuss various Oromo issues and he has often encouraged the federal government to support arts and culture in Oromia by establishing a music school in the region.

The young Ali, ca 1964.

The Ali Birra sound

Many of Ali’s early lyrics were strongly inspired by the revolutionary Oromo poet Abubakar Musaa. But singing in Oromifa was only one of the ways that Ali tried to distinguish his music from the dominant Amharic sound. He and fellow Oromo musicians used grace notes and played in diatonic instead of pentatonic scales creating a less Amharic and more Indian or Arabian sound. “Nowadays Oromo music sounds similar to the Amharic,” Ali deplores. But simultaneously he praises the many new Oromo musicians: “Back then it was mostly Ali Shebbo and I. Now you have new Oromo singers coming forth almost every day,” he says and starts listing some of his favourite heirs such as Tadele Gemechu, Jambo Jote, Qamar Yusuf, Hachalu Hundessa and Elemo Ali among others.

While there truly are many talented young Oromo musicians out there, none of them have carved out a sound as unique as the one that characterizes many of Ali’s recordings from the 60’s and 70’s: the one of a guitar tuned as an oud. This was a sound crafted under rather peculiar circumstances. Ali and his childhood friend Ali Shebbo had learned to play the oud in Dire Dawa. In 1966, when Ali Birra went to an audition for Emperor Haile Selassie’s Imperial Body Guard Band, he was asked if he played any instruments. He replied that he played the oud but was then told they did not have an oud in Addis. Instead Ali was given a guitar, which he tuned like an oud because that was what he knew the best. Thus, the inimitable Ali Birra sound was born.

He has since tried to remain true to that sound. When I ask him about his musical philosophy, he explains: “I believe in small incremental changes to my music while staying faithful to its origins. I have tried to use new technological means while respecting the past. When I left Ethiopia, I was lucky to get the chance to study music in the US. It made me able to better analyse music and its scales. At the same time I can play many different instruments. Many new musicians today are only vocalists or they can only play one instrument.“

Stories from the palace

Ali is full of anecdotes. Some of the finest ones originate in his three-year spell with the Imperial Body Guard Band. Ali confesses that he enjoyed the prestige and fame related to the orchestra and that he was honoured to perform along with Ethiopian music legends such as Besunesh Bekele, Tilahun Gessesse and Mahmoud Ahmed. But being a young and idealistic Oromo musician in the Emperor’s band also posed many challenges for Ali and he did not really fit into the military lifestyle.

One of the first times Ali clashed with palace protocol was during an official visit by the Romanian present. When the Emperor and his visitor strolled by the Imperial Body Guard Band in the palace’s hallway, all the band members were supposed to bow and lie down on the ground. However, Ali was not aware of this etiquette and stood straight staring into the eyes of the Emperor. Ali was then taken to jail but when asked about his misstep, he told his superiors that being a Muslim he was not allowed to bow for any human being.

On another occasion, Ali was caught in the palace chewing chat, which was then illegal in Ethiopia. Ali admits that he was naïve back then: “There were so many cultural differences between life in Dire Dawa and in Addis and I did not speak Amharic very well.” In 1969, Ali finally quit the Imperial Body Guard Band and for a few years he quit music as well. He worked as a water machine operator on the railway between Ethiopia and Djibouti until he in 1972 returned to Addis and to music.

The disarmament

Ali’s second stint as musician in Addis proved to be more successful than his time in the Emperor’s band. He started performing again at various hotels and clubs in Addis and touring throughout Ethiopia. In 1973, a concert at an Islamic School in Jimma in Western Oromia turned out to be the most profitable performance yet for Ali and his band members. Ali describes, how at first the audience was not really able to understand his Eastern Oromo dialect but when he started singing a classic Arabic song praising the prophet Mohamed, the crowd went berserk and started throwing money at the band. Ali repeated the song and in the end the floor was covered with money. The group was originally paid 400 birr to play the concert but ended up earning close to 10,000 birr that single night

In 1977, Ali joined the renowned all-star Ibex band and in 1980 the Ethio Star Band.  Nevertheless, Ali also had his difficulties this time around: “When I joined the Ibex Band, I was disarmed my guitar. I was told that my guitar style did not match their vocal so I was left with singing together with Mahmoud Ahmed. At least, this gave me a bit more freedom to be a performer.” Some of the more serious artistic restrictions came from the Derg regime. “There was a lot of censorship during public concerts and the majority of the songs we recorded had to include some praise of socialism, Marxism or Leninism”, he elaborates.

Ali (standing in the middle) and his band mates in Jimma, Western Ethiopia, 1973

More than music

The night before Ali in 1984 left Ethiopia, he played with the Ethio Star Band at a wedding at the Hilton. “I never get paid for that job,” he notes.  A few years earlier, Ali had met and married a diplomat named Brigitta Alstrom working at the Swedish Embassy. When Brigitta’s posting in Ethiopia ended, she was transferred to Los Angeles and Ali decided to follow his wife to the US. “My motivations for leaving Ethiopia were mixed. I wanted to be with my wife, to escape the harassment of the regime and to explore new opportunities abroad,” he tells me.

In the US, Ali studied music theory at the university and used most weekends touring the US and Canada with fellow Ethiopian diaspora musicians. Diplomatic life later brought Ali to Saudi Arabia and Sweden and he continued to perform and record music throughout this period. Ali now resides in Canada with his wife Lily.

Before I part ways with Ali, I ask him to reflect over the biggest rewards during his 50 years in music. His replies promptly: “The biggest victory for my music and for me is that people after so many years still have an interest in it. Even people from outside Ethiopia. But it also goes beyond the music. Oromo music is much more than music. It is a struggle and a freedom fight.”

Thanks to Ali and Lily for their generosity and openness and to Yasin for his invaluable assistance. 

Many of Ali Birra’s recordings are not easily accessible. Mitmitta has made a few classic Birra tracks available on SoundCloud and last year Domino Sound and Mississippi Records released some of Ali’s 1976 recordings with the Aduu Birra Band. The upcoming éthiopiques release scheduled for March 2013 will also be featuring Ali Birra’s music, incl. 3 previously unreleased Birra recordings from the 60′s.

Timbuktu embraced by dancers from Stewart Sukuma’s band, Selam Festival 2012

The task of identifying the best artistic and cultural experiences in Addis in the past year turned out to be much more challenging than expected. Not because there were not a plethora of events to cherry pick from. There were, and many of them were as such interesting but also fairly safe. Only few of the events were really creative and managed to set new standards for what can be done within arts and culture in Addis. In the end, we settled on the ones presented below in random order. Revisit them and let us know what were your 2012 Addis favorites.

Dawit Abebe: X-Privacy. Photo: Michael Tesgaye

Dawit Abebe: X-Privacy

Dawit Abebe is one of Ethiopia’s most promising young artists and his solo show at the Alliance ehio-francaise galleries in October was refreshing, well-thought and most of all complete. There was a sofisticated red line throughout the show that featured works on canvas and paper in several sizes as well as a large installation. A truly breathtaking wall-size canvas in one end of the gallery stole the attention of the crowd and so did the installation in the other end. Abebe’s pen and palette is at once rich and rigorous, minimalistic and melancholic, and his almost cubistic humans inhabit the canvas with confidence.

Mahmoud Ahmed performing at Selam Festival 2012. Photo: Mario Di Bari

Selam Festival

The third edition of the Selam Festival showcased some of the best contemporary Ethiopian music. Veterans of the golden age like Mahmoud Ahmed and Alemayehu Eshete along with new talents such as Yeshi Demelash created some magic moments in the Ghion park in December. As did international stars like Timbuktu, while the performances of new Ethiopian rock entities like Jano and Janinites showed that there is still a lot work to be done before Ethiopia can claim to be the home of a rock scene.

The Fekat Circus crew

Fekat Circus: LAB-ART

In 2012 Addis Ababa was enriched with a new space for culture and performing arts: the Fekat Circus‘ LAB-ART. Fekat Circus is a non-profit organization aimed at promoting arts as an agent for social change and development. The LAB-ART is located in a beautiful old compound around Piassa and is a space for teaching children and adults about circus arts, for hosting exhibitions and performances. The Fekat Circus, the people, the project is purely magic. The Fekat spirit spreads smiles as medicine and circus training as empowerment of children, and the Fekat crew deserves applause for how far their hard work, talent and believes have taken them.

Dionisio González, Halong VI. Photo: Nora Kronemeyer

Examples to Follow: Expeditions in aesthetics and sustainability

There is great potential for art and artists to create awareness on and come up with alternative solutions to some of the problems that contemporary Ethiopia faces such as environment issues. However, it is rare to see an exhibition in Addis that pinpoints such difficult and problematic topics. Nevertheless, the ‘Examples to Follow’ exhibition at the Modern Art Museum and the Goethe Institute in May showed that such endeavors are both possible and necessary and it was really refreshing and inspiring to see a thematic exhibition in Addis arranged around a subject that is on everyones lips these days: sustainability. ‘Examples to Follow’ furthermore did one very important thing: it caught the attention of school-classes, creating an important link to the future cultural consumers of the city and reaching out to the local community. Although the exhibition is neither organized or produced in Addis and only a handfull of Ethiopian artists were represented, it can be an inspiration for local artists and curators on how to organize thematic exhibitions in Ethiopia in the future.

Melaku and the Ex at Fendika

Fendika

No, there was probably nothing particular new over the performances at Fendika asmari bet in 2012. But the venue is still the most reliable place in Addis to go to experience the wide palet of Ethiopian music and dance. From the exhilarating performances of Melaku and his Fendika or Ethiocolor ensembles and dancers, over classic asmari performances to young talents and old veterans like Alemayehu Fanta. Yes, it does get crowded, hot and rowdy there at peak nights but a visit to Fendika is never a disappointment.