In a bloated House like the one in Uganda where numbers, money and shamelessness determine every single piece of legislation, it would be lunacy to think that one can make a meaningful contribution on the floor.
Indeed, our most celebrated MPs – by far the minority – have showcased their talents only outside parliament. Not speaking in parliament but remaining as relevant as Bobi Wine has showed is an act of commendable political maturity.
In early 2018, Bobi Wine released the now very famous single, Kyarenga, which has all the trappings of a love song but has taken the hue of a political song – a most unlikely song of the struggle that the singer embodies.
Interestingly, most lovers of the song do not know what “Kyarenga” means. Loosely translated from its Runyankore original, Kyarenga reads as “It is too Much!” or “She is Overwhelming!
But the song offers more than its mendacious title. Like all beautiful works of art—novels, paintings, poems, fashion—music mobilizes its own publics, and has the power to rewrite the lives of its creators.
The rise of China and increased Chinese investment/exports into Africa has transformed many things on the continent. The world’s leading factory has lowered the price of living and luxury.
Items, especially electronics — from TVs to smartphones (the problems with quality notwithstanding) — which used to be a preserve of the wealthy, are now affordable to many. With more TV stations, and actual TV sets in people’s homes, music nowadays has ceased being simply about vocals and melodious symphonies, but the message and pictures in motion.
It is not surprising, therefore, that musicians nowadays invest more time in producing videos than getting the lyrics right. In the end, the power and appeal of a song is better accessed only after both renderings—audio and video—are read side-by-side.
Kyarenga is a story of a beautiful country damsel that is coveted by two men. One of the contenders is rich and arrogant while the other is regular but more charming and creative.
While the richer bloke seeks to procure affection – corrupting the girl’s father and offering the girl loads of pricey foreign currency, and boxes of goodies — the underprivileged fellow invests in lyrical creativity and charm.
While the rich man shows up clad in a suit, a slight potbelly, smartphone in hand, wired up with earpieces, with his muscular bodyguard who doubles as a handler, the leaner contender shows up singly, in more creatively woven Afro-fabric and simply begs for love. He is more romantic than the wealthier urban dullard.
Once the rich fellow sees his fortunes becoming fast unfavorable, he snatches his money and goodies back, and resorts to violence hiring a gang of thugs to beat up the suave challenger.
The plot is rather too familiar for any humans who have once sought love in their lives. And it is this familiarity that renders it biting edge, making it powerfully allegorical to power and politics.
If we replaced this beautiful village lass with the country Uganda, contested for in a political space, we have seen many suitors offering to buy the virgin hearts of Ugandans. These money-blessed suitors often promise “work,” but actually are mere pompous windbags.
We have also seen them turning to violence – hiring police and criminal thugs – upon learning that “money does not buy love!” Have we not seen these powerful thieves taking their offers back once their lustful overtures were turned down?
To complete his rather subtle allegory, Bobi Wine deftly seasons the song with lines from different languages across the country. With a title coming in Runyankore, the song, which is mostly in Luganda, has texts rendered in Lusoga, Acholi, Ateso, Kiswahili and English.
He then spices it with some of the newest slangs out of the ghetto, which rewards the song with an unstoppable national appeal. With a video that features some of the country’s lead entertainers – Patriko Mujuuka, Salvado Idringi and Swengere – the song travels more than had promised.
The author is a PhD fellow at Makerere Institute of Social Research.
