A clutch of Bana Mazembe fans gathered outside my door holding burning torches and crude weapons after my last week’s review. They were unhappy with my “mischaracterisation” of their beloved band in the review.
“Your article smacks of ignorance and arrogance,” Okumu hissed in his email. “Who leaves a bloody bar at 8:30 pm? What did you go to do there anyway, play on a jumping castle? Omollo wrote.
I was informed that they are the hardest working band in Nairobi, and they have a massive following ranging from “popular media personalities like Gado, Madd, and Fred Machoka to politicians, judges, corporate heads, and senior government officials.”
How dare I disparage the great Bana Mazembe?
“8:30 pm is not a measure of a band’s talent,” one wrote, and that I should have “restricted my review to Quiver and its culinary dishes.” [That made me chuckle heartily].
“The ‘skinny guy’ you refer to is the band leader and is actually called Lingwa Ngoie.” Take your time to do your research, someone wagged a finger in my face.
The groundswell was overwhelming. It quickly occurred to me that Bana Mazembe isn’t just a band but a movement.
I ate a humble pie and responded to all of them. I bowed and admitted that I had erred, and I'd given Bana Mazembe another fair chance on a Thursday at Quiver Lounge Milimani.
Someone mentioned that they also perform at Kuche Kuche, which I have always wanted to visit, but avoid because the patriarch of our larger family holds court there and we generally avoid where our fathers are drinking because you might see things you can’t unsee.
Now that I have you here and we are on the rhumba frequency, I will be heading for the annual Rhumba Ya Yurop concert in Kisumu this weekend at Dunga Hill camp by Odongo Swagg and Johnny Junior.
I haven’t caught up to this genre of music yet, but I will approach the review with an open heart and mind. But importantly, I won’t leave the concert at 8:30 pm.
