Joseph Kamaru’s music was less about instruments.
He shared his social-cultural observations in his music, particularly when entombed in proverbs.
His transition from colonialism to uhuru gave him great insights into social changes and inspiration for his music.
At 79, he left behind a solid legacy of music that captured Kenya’s moods - from colonialism to uhuru - from rural to urban areas.
He captured the social changes as the old order gave way to modernism, espoused by moral relativism.
He was a keen observer. He did not just sing but also sang about the realities of life, particularly of the ordinary men, women and their emotions.
I met Kamaru in 2016 at Kenyatta University where he appeared much at home.
The university gave him an award for his contribution to Kenyan culture.
Mr Kamaru joins the likes of Ngugi wa Thiong’o and other artists who chronicled the social changes as the winds of change blew when the Union Jack was replaced by the Kenyan flag.
We have repeatedly said Kamaru’s was a unique generation. No other will see such changes in their lifetime.
When I sit with my parents, my mum is 80 and my dad would be 100 years this year (do not over think ), I am always fascinated by their stories.
They lived under the British monarchy and then our government. Some can sing “God save the queen” as well as “Ee Mungu Nguvu yetu.” Their lives were shaped by another upheaval, the Mau Mau .
Contrast that with the younger generation whose lives are shaped not by reality but movies. It’s no wonder we are witnessing lots of events that are closer to movies than reality.
Our inability to safeguard the social anchors like proverbs, stories and experiential learning has been our soft underbelly.
Purpose in life
We risk ending up with a “hollow nation “devoid of the soul. Music, philosophy, religions, history and other traditions give the nation its soul.
It gives individuals like you and me meaning and purpose in life.These soul nourishers now have a very powerful competitor- materialism.
What you own, at times devoid of how you got it gives you more clout and status than what you believe or value.
The hollowness of the nation is best espoused by corruption.
We often forget that corruption is more of a social-cultural issue than economic.
That is why it’s so hard to uproot. Every country has men and women who keep the embers of the national soul burning.
They include musicians like late Joseph Kamaru, Daudi Kabaka, and Fadhili Williams.
They also include writers like the late Francis Imbuga, Ngugi wa Thiong’o, religious leaders and politicians who went beyond the call of duty.
Less talked about were missionaries, who ensured the next generation had values and something to hold onto once out of school.
Think of Geoffrey Griffin and Starehe Way or Alliance’s Strong to Serve or their neighbour’s motto, Walk in the light.
In other countries such soul builders or holders are heroes. As the Canadian philosopher Joseph Rotman (1935-2015) once put it, science empowers us; the humanities teach us to use that power wisely.
It seems we never learn how to use power wisely; no wonder corruption and others vices are ravaging us in the sea of plenty.
Curiously, in Kenya social-cultural matters have thrived under the invisible hand of the market not the governments, except beauty contests.
Yet worldwide arts sector is heavily subsidised by the government from museums to monuments.
Kamaru and other musicians have thrived because of personal initiatives, not subsidies.
The little we can do to such heroes is to preserve their legacy so that our grandchildren can marvel at their creativity and foresight and get inspired to do better. Such heroes can be our benchmarks.
Economic growth without a soul, capitalism without a human face leads to unhappy nations.
Michael Jackson
We can harness the power of our artists to help us find meaning and purpose in our lives, and avoid the long and winding road to meaninglessness.
Ever wondered why the US exports both iPhone and music from Michael Jackson to Taylor Swift? Why do they export cars and movies at the same time?
We do not just import machinery and other hard stuff from developed countries, but their culture too, their soft power, part of their soul.
Kamaru may have left us, but his beats and music will outlive him, his guitar will be heard across generations, long after our feeble bodies have crumbled into dust.
We may not realise that now, but in years to come, Kamaru’s greatness will compare with classical musicians like Beethoven, Mozart, Bach or Tchaikovsky.
We may not have recognised Kamaru in his lifetime particularly among the younger generation; they are too distracted by new types of music, social media and their own world.
But it will not be long before we borrow from Kamaru’s village, “iraguo yari iria yakwa.” (You will be praised after you are dead). They say a cow gave lots of milk once it’s dead.
-The writer teaches at the University of Nairobi.
