Lecturing on American jazz/culture in Nairobi, Kenya

Nairobi has a very different look and feel than does Addis Ababa—more urban, developed, humming with commerce. The British influence is everywhere, especially in the widespread use of English. Swahili is the other widely-spoken language.

Saturday my first lecture was at the RoMoMa Gallery, a handsome, non-profit gallery for African artists, with two floors and rooms of paintings and photography. About 60 people crammed the small auditorium for my presentation “Why We Need the Arts More Than Ever.” The audience was a thorough mix of Kenyans and expats and they paid rapt attention, smiling at Louis Armstrong’s Dinah and looking moved by William Warfield’s Ol’ Man River. As a sign of the generosity of the people in Kenya: when I finished and called for Q&A, a tall man paid me a great compliment: “In all my life, I’ve never been moved to tears, from beginning to end, by a man speaking.” There were many other comments—including a request for my script to take back to the school administrators where the questioner worked. And I played a number on the piano, a boogie-woogie version of St. Louis Blues, to warm applause, and then was swarmed by well-wishers and people eager to talk. Instead of the reception lasting thirty minutes, it went for two hours as the audience engaged each other in artistic conversations and I got endless one-on-one questions and comments from the audience. I even gave a short class on jazz chords to twelve-year-old girl who had keenly followed the lecture (and then, in appreciation, presented her parents with a copy of my book I Love You When, which expresses a parent’s unconditional love for a child).

A number of musicians attended, and several came on stage to play, among them a terrific young jazz pianist. One of those who attended was a saxophonist-singer named Patrick Sanna, who did a spot-on version of Louis Armstrong’s What a Wonderful World and was fascinated when I played for him the recording of Armstrong singing the entire song, including its seldom-heard but compelling verse. He asked for a copy. Later that evening, I took a taxi to Palacina restaurant to hear him and his band. It turns out that three of his sons are in the band—keyboard, drums, and bass, along with a trumpeter and, that night, a young lady serving as guest singer. I brought along the Smithsonian’s Louis Armstrong Jazz Appreciation Month poster--featuring Leroy Neiman's terrific portrait of Armstrong--for everyone in the band, and they were all glad to receive it.

On Sunday, I went to the residence of US Ambassador Michael E. Ranneberger to give my lecture “Louis Armstrong: American Icon” to an audience of 75 invited guests, including the Minister of Culture, the Hon. William Ole Ntimama (who had, in 1952, worked as a translator for a Smithsonian expedition and who recalled Armstrong’s 1960 performance in Nairobi), the French Ambassador, the German cultural attaché, other diplomats, university professors and deans, and a number of Kenyan musicians. I opened with the assertion that jazz represents some of the most admirable values to which the US aspires: freedom, democracy, cultural diversity, individuality, innovation, and creative collaboration, and then related Armstrong’s life story, illustrated with images, audio, and video clips.

The staff had moved the residence’s grand piano for me to perform on it, and after the lecture, I played St. Louis Blues, Summertime— both of which Armstrong recorded, and the Ellington-Strayhorn standard Satin Doll.

Again, many comments and questions followed, including some from a young Kenyan jazz band called Groove 360. The comment that totally surprised me was when a young Kenyan musician said to me, “You’ve changed my life forever.” Wow! I take no credit—rather it had to have been Louis Armstrong, and I’m very glad to have been a vehicle for Armstrong to inspire a young Kenyan.

I later learned that a noted professor from a major university in Nairobi said to my colleague Ellen Bienstock, the US Cultural Attaché, that he was surprised and impressed, given how bad he heard the racism is in the US, that a white man would extol the virtues and genius of Louis Armstrong so passionately. When I learned this later, I remarked to Kennedy Wakia, the Embassy’s Alumni Coordinator, “And I had thought my skin color might be a liability.” Ken replied, “No, it’s an asset.”

One professor of music said that he is hoping to introduce an entire course on the history of jazz. Among the dignitaries I spoke with was Wangari Maathai, the first African woman and the first environmentalist to win the Nobel Peace Prize.

Then we went to the studios of Capital Radio, where their weekly two-hour jazz show, Capital Jazz Club, was on the air. The host, Jack Ojiambo. and I had a lively conversation about jazz as an international, worldwide phenomenon.

Monday started with a trip to Citizen Television, where I appeared on the morning talk show Power Breakfast, the Kenyan equivalent of NBC’s Today show in the US. The guest before me was a mentalist from South Africa who demonstrated the most amazing feats—bending a fork, twirling a fork without touching it, guessing correctly the identity of a dear friend whom the program’s co-host was thinking of, etc.—bringing her to tears. I figured this will be a very tough act to follow but the other co-host, Jimmy Gathu, was lively and fun and our seventeen minutes sped by. He asked about American and Kenyan jazz, why I was in Kenya, what my impressions were, how the Smithsonian acquires artifacts, etc.

The final official business was a lecture at the Kenya Conservatoire of Music, where I addressed a group of officials and educators invited by the Minister of Culture, on “Why We Need the Arts More Than Ever.” The Q&A, which I thought would last ten minutes, stretched to an hour as the audience offered thoughtful questions and observations. One difference between the situation regarding arts in education in the US and in Kenya quickly emerged: in Kenya, every student has to take a big exam after 8th grade, in order to enter high school. If a subject—such as music or art—isn’t considered testable, and isn’t on that exam, the parents don’t support schools teaching it.

One man picked up on my comment, which I stated twice, that “While America’s diversity challenges us all, in fact our cultural pluralism is one of our greatest strengths.“ He said that in Kenya, it seems as if diversity is increasingly pulling the country apart. I replied that I while have no solution, I could offer the opinion that, all around the world, the number one problem facing humankind is—even more than environmental, nuclear, global warming, water shortages, etc.—that most people have trouble accepting difference among people. That our maker wants and likes difference—otherwise he would have made us all alike.

Cultural Affairs Officer Ellen Bienstock stepped in and nimbly answered a few questions about Embassy policies and programs. She has assembled a superb staff, including Ken Wakia, who showered me with kindnesses. Everyone was great to work with.

Finally, I sat for an interview with George Orido for the Sunday edition of the East African Standard newspaper. George was the scriptwriter and director for Obama, The Musical, which when it opened in Nairobi last fall, in advance of the US elections, earned worldwide publicity.

Throughout Kenya, President Obama, whose father was Kenyan, is a hero, and so I introduced myself as “from the other Obama-land,” to quick smiles. Kenyans are very interested in the United States, even more than previously, and look to the US as a great example of democracy. Many are interested in learning more about American music. I found the Kenyans a warm, friendly, forthcoming people with whom I connected readily, and now count Kenyans as among my friends and colleagues. I’m hoping to continue to work with them.