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A Soweto Massive

The first time I was in Soweto, I crossed the street in front of Mandela's house into a bar to have a shot called the Soweto toilet Yes, I had already gone to take the pictures in...

The sound of a community

If you have to ask what jazz is, you will never know Those are not my words, however much I wish they were I doubt I have come across a more poignant statement And, as an artisan...

The Alchemist

It rains differently on this other side of the big valley Here, the rains give you a warning and enough time The first sign is in how the weather changes; the brightness of the...

A woman jazzed

You've only ever seen her before in the stuff that dreams are made of, surrounded in beams That light, cloudiness That ethereal, magic She looks unassuming at first, though you...

Made of music

On many hot weekend afternoons in dusty Kitengela, 1994, daddy would plonk me onto our old brown living room table when his favourite song came on the radio, prodding me to dance...

Simon on the keys

When I was younger, way younger, a couple of decades ago, I was quite the precocious pre-teen Or at least, I like to tell myself that, because everyone likes to look back on their...

Music That Moves

The last time I was in Kisumu I went to our place in Ukweli There is nobody there these days Everyone moved to Nairobi Now it is like a ghost house A film of dust coats the dining...

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