It takes a special kind of courage to fight for something the society calls wrong, or even criminal.
This is the reality for Kawira Mwirichia, 32, an artist who uses her creativity to champion her cause for love in whatever form it takes.
Kawira’s medium of choice for creative expression is the kanga, traditionally used to pass messages, from proverbs and ancient wisdom to quirky modern quotes.
She got her idea from a friend’s wedding that she attended in 2015.
“I was a chauffeur for the bridal party. When the bride stepped out of the house, the ladies laid kangas all the way to the car for the bride to walk on,” says the artist.
“I’d never seen that before and was amazed at this poignant symbol, that her path to happiness was paved with beautiful messages on beautiful cloth.”
Kawira decided she wanted to do the same thing to help pass a positive message, urging society to accept its diversity. She’s planning to design and print 197 kangas, representing 197 countries, including the Vatican City, under her highly controversial but daring project, To Revolutionary Type Love.
You’re taking a stand on a cause many would oppose purely on principle. How do you intend to make it a success?
I’ve found that art changes the world, because it poses issues in an aesthetic, non-threatening fashion that most people are able to look at and begin to see things from someone else’s point of view. I am hoping that is what will carry this project: good art displayed well and championing a human cause.
Your plan is to design 197 kangas representing the countries of the world. How many have you done so far?
Twenty-two. My intention is to have completed all 197 by next year June when I’ll have an exhibition to showcase my work.
The very first exhibition I did was at the Goethe Institut in 2017. It was a collaboration with other artists, including photographers, DJs and musicians, who were also telling the stories of people who don’t fit the traditional mold of society.
It was very well received, with a full house on opening night and good attendance for the two weeks that the exhibition lasted.
Did you make any money from this exhibition?
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Absolutely. I received a grant of Sh500,000 from the Goethe Institut. I have received grants from other institutions around the world, including Astrea, a US foundation, that gave me $5,000 (Sh500,000).
You refer to your kangas as a project, are they, though, an actual business?
Yes, they are. All art is business. Sure, I make the kangas to pass a message, but they’re also a source of income for me.
Each one goes for Sh4,600. The high price is because I use polyester as a fabric, which is pricey, especially since I don’t have the capacity to do bulk printing just yet.
Eventually, when I can print in bulk, I’d like to price my kangas competitively at approximately Sh500, like any other kanga in the market.
Take us through your process. How do you decide on your designs and what country to focus on next?
When creating my designs, I’ll first do research on the country, study its culture and traditions, particularly the history of love. It’s from this research that I decide what caption or designs I’ll put on the kanga. Once I complete the design, I upload the kanga on social media sites and my website and market it.
What are some of your more iconic designs?
It’s hard to pick them out because they’re all so different. But some of the stories that stood out for me are the South African and Tanzanian ones.
In South Africa, I picked an activist, the late Simon Nkoli, who was fighting against apartheid and fighting against discrimination based on one’s sexual preferences.
I just thought he was so brave, to take on two huge issues like that. The slogan on the kanga is, ‘Black and white are not the colours of love; they never were’.
In Tanzania, I featured organisations that were fighting discrimination and agitating for everyone to get the same clinical treatments, particularly when it came to HIV and Aids.
I honoured organisations like The Nest in Kenya, as well.
The Kenyan slogan is, ‘My love is valid’, coined from Lupita Nyong’o’s Oscar speech where she said: “Your dreams are valid”.
Being such a niche project and fighting for a cause that’s often opposed, how do you intend to get the audience you require?
Many of my big publicity moments have come from international parties that seem more open to ideas that go against the mainstream norm.
I just got featured on OkayAfrica’s third annual 100 Women list, which recognises African women making waves while driving positive impact.
And in early 2018, I got to meet Anthony Bourdain, a celebrity chef and TV personality, when he travelled to Kenya to shoot his CNN show, Parts Unknown, in collaboration with international comedian, W Kamau Bell.
They were covering the diversity of Kenya.
Anthony Bourdain died in June that same year, and the Kenyan episode of Parts Unknown was the premiere posthumous episode of the season and the last time Anthony Bourdain’s voice was heard as a voice over for a show. The voice of support from someone departed resonates with me, because my mother died in 2016 after living with cancer.
She left me an inheritance that has buoyed my work, especially when I didn’t have other money coming in.
What did your mother think about your project?
My mother was a strong woman. She believed that once you decide on a path, you need to own it.
She always told me to occupy my space. “Claim who you are,” she would say. Those words have kept me going during some of my toughest times.
When I get a big break, I often wish my mother was here to see it, like last year when I was featured on WeTransfer, a file-sharing platform that attracts about 150 million hits a month. That got me plenty of publicity.
This year, I’ve enrolled with the Heva Fund, which is an economic investment forum aimed at promoting creativity in the East African region.
I recognise that I need to improve on the business end of my project. My mother was great at business, and I want her to see me trying, to know she left me with wisdom that has and will help me thrive and succeed.
What does success look like for you?
I dream of the day when To Revolutionary Type Love might become an icon, might be considered this different and powerful thing that came out of Kenya and spoke on behalf of many marginalised people, people who should be accepted as part of the fabric of society.
In a sense, my kangas stand for that; being a fabric of society. I think society will catch up one day and when it does, I want to be one of the people who stood in the gap to get it there.