Nairobi in a Song A Boy, His Father, and Old Tunes

To Kenyans, 2023 feels like the year the country dies. But within this Rhumba and Jazz establishment in Nairobi’s Tao, it could as well be 1970,’ Ogwa writes. ‘Perched behind a corner table with two cold bottles of beer sweating before me, I pass a quintessential moment, watching folks of all ages waltz elegantly to Cabo Verde Barefoot Diva, Cesária Évora’s “Partida”... For me, old music is not just entertainment, it’s a compass with which I always find my way back to me.’

It’s 2023. Nairobi’s air is acrid as ever and the government has invented yet another tax. The shilling is having an unprecedented stoop against the dollar. National IDs now cost money as if being a citizen of this country is such a hot sell. Meanwhile, passports are unaffordable because there’s no escaping hell, and thousands are losing their jobs as corporates flee the land of Hakuna Matata. A week earlier, Kenya’s leading boy band, Sauti Sol, in a one-last-time performance, took a final walk on the stage they’ve built for 20 years. They bowed, raised the curtains, and turned off the lights; the end of an era. To their fans, 2023 feels like the year music dies. To Kenyans, 2023 feels like the year the country dies. 

But within this Rhumba and Jazz establishment in Nairobi’s Tao, it could as well be 1970.  Perched behind a corner table with two cold bottles of beer sweating before me, I pass a quintessential moment, watching folks of all ages waltz elegantly to Cabo Verde Barefoot Diva, Cesária Évora’s ‘Partida’. If there’s any care in the world, it does not exist within these walls. There is the sunset couple, dancing to the song’s beat, and their hearts. The missus cocks her head and smiles proudly after a number of elegant waltzes—a befitting tribute to Évora who disdained false humility, often citing that she achieved success simply because she is an excellent singer—the very best...