The TCHNO Event Inspiring a Healing Music Movement in Nairobi

What are you doing this Sunday? I send the WhatsApp message on a Saturday morning. He says nothing, just chilling at home.

He asks whether I’m back in Nairobi. I confirm. And I invite him to indulge in underground music, intimate vibes and authentic food at Bambupelo Art Shrine the next day. 

He calls it the Furaha Homecoming Party. 

I say yes!

On Sunday 31st October, we meet at 12.40 pm and drive all the way to Naivasha Road. By 1.30 pm we are parked outside Bambupelo. We meet Coco Em, Justin a.k.a Huilly Huile and Emmaus Kimani at the entrance. We haven’t seen each other for months, probably since the previous TCHNO event. 

After confirming that we had indeed bought advance tickets, they issue us with wristbands and welcome us inside the charming art shrine.

S.E.M.A.

I had thought we were late but we are right on time for the SEMA live production jam. African timing is a thing.

The Santuri Electronic Music Academy team have just finished setting up their extensive sound equipment on the tables in front of the main stage. It’s a student showcase 2 weeks into the music incubator program running from 18th October to 26th November, supported by Goethe Institut’s Jenga CCI and GIZ. Like the podcasting incubator program I’m doing at ADMI.

Led by David Tinning of Santuri East Africa, the young Kenyan music producers embark on a live production session using flashy gear from Ableton, Native Instruments,  iZotope Inc, Adam Audio (monitors) and Shure (microphones).

At first, the electronic beats with the keyboards and Ableton Live machines sound out of sync. We give it time.

But after a while, it starts to sound more like music.

Justin explains the SEMA students have been doing other extra-curricular activities like film screenings. Later that week they will watch a documentary film about female music producers at Unseen Nairobi. Its name is, get this: Sisters in Transistors.

I notice there is only one female on stage. But there are many more in the program.

I go up close to see what they are doing. Before anyone can see me, I grab an African thumb piano that looks familiar. I call it the marimba but my friend disputes. We decide to ask the artists around us what it’s called. They all have different opinions.

Eventually, David gives us the answer. An ilimba, or cousin of the mbira from Zimbabwe. This one is marked Zawose, made by the one and only Msafiri Zawose from Tanzania. A Gogo musician from Bagamoyo and the son of the late musical giant Hukwe Zawose.

With the encouragement of [MONRHEA], I also try my hand at Native Instrument’s Maschine. Punch on the pads, create some beats, record them, and loop them to blend with the rest of the music. For a proud moment, I feel like a music producer. 

Can I also be one of the transistor sisters?

Changanya

Once they shut down the machines, we walk to the back section of Bambupelo – because this shrine has layers. Under the warm afternoon sun, we admire the newly painted black and white walls, kitenge upholstered stools and rough wooden lampshades. Smell the rosemary leaves and discuss rustic decor ideas. 

This Nairobi art space is full of interior design inspiration. 

I notice a rough wooden box engraved with the message “Do You Work With Nature Or Against It?” It’s signed Awa Roots. I recognize Breathren’s signature, my DJ friend who is probably playing at the Halloween costume party at Spikizi Bar in Karen at that same moment.

Back inside the dark room, DJ Raph and Nabalayo are on stage. We join the intimate crowd seated and pay attention like it’s class time. The latter is talking about the Kenyan sound she pioneered in 2019.

Because she grew up in Nairobi without a connection to her Luhya roots, she decided to learn from other Kenyan cultures. And thus Changanya was born – a mesh of different Kenyan and African folk sounds.

She invites other Kenyan musicians in the house to contribute to it. After all, it’s not just her sound. It’s ours.

DJ Raph then plays some of his favourite songs from her debut album – he admits he bought all her music. It inspires me to buy Changanya on Bandcamp that first Friday of the month so that most of the money goes to her. Also, it’s one of the best Kenyan albums of 2020!

I am reminded of this fact when Raph plays the first song. From the first beat, I feel the familiar African rhythm pulsing through My body. My insides soften as I close my eyes. Tears attempt to drown my eyeballs.

By the end of the song, I am singing along to the chorus of Gari ya Moshi even though I didn’t know the lyrics five minutes ago.

Raph blends one Nabalayo song with another using his sophisticated Roland SP sampler. Like the old head in Nairobi’s underground scene, he does it like a pro. And we applaud. 

Also, like an old head, he talks a lot in between songs – realizes he’s doing it, then reminds himself to shut up and drive. He then plays remixes of his favourite songs, his original tracks, and what he’d play at an underground club in Berlin. 

After a clear warning: “If you don’t tell me when to stop, I won’t.”

Lunch Break

As much as we want to enjoy his unique DJ set, our stomachs are rumbling. And we can’t stomach the hunger any longer. 

My friend and I are a tad disappointed Obwakss didn’t show up with his lakeside fish as promised. It was one of the baits I had used to hook J to come today. That is after sending him a photo of my full tilapia fish during the first TCHNO event back on 8th August.

I had missed the September 28th one because I was busy figuring my life out in Kilifi.

Luckily we have options today. At 5 pm, we sneak out of Bambupelo and take a 5-minute drive to Mama Oliech restaurant on Dagoretti corner. It’s only a stone’s throw away from Dagoz Bar and Artist Venue (when’s the last time you used that phrase?)

We try our luck as there’s no mobile phone number on Google Maps. Once we park outside, he walks out to check the status.

Yup, it’s open!

A young lady at the entrance stands next to a wide metal pan full of sizzling brown oil. Deep-fried fish are piled in stacks on a wooden table as if to announce today’s special offer to passersby. Without wasting time, we choose which fish we want and how we want it.

Inside, the restaurant is half empty. J is surprised. The last time he was here – which was years ago – it was dark and packed. It must be because it’s was a weekday. But then again, it was a different building. 

After admiring other people’s fish being devoured right in front of our eyes, ours finally arrive. Mine is swimming in a thin tomato soup, his dry with kachumbari on the side. Two small plastic plates of white ugali follow – but don’t judge an ugali by its size.

We assume the server must have forgotten about the cabbage – after all, it’s complimentary aka sosa.

Before we indulge, we give thanks to the fish who gave their lives to feed us (they were probably cousins), the maize farmers, the diligent cooks, and even Mama Oliech for starting this famous fish restaurant. 

And then we feast. 

From the first bite, I can’t believe how tasty this tilapia is. The one I ate in Kilifi two weeks ago did not even come close – it must have lost its signature taste along Mombasa Road. Or was imported from China.

Today, I close my eyes and savour the flavours of Lake Victoria. Scoop all the meat from one side, turn my baby over, and embark on round 2. And once I eat everything including the gills and the head, I turn to the ugali and cabbage. The finisher.

J starts to complain he’s getting tired of eating – I can’t relate, can you? And how oily his fish is, from the double deep frying. He has to accompany it with ugali for it to go down his throat. 

But what can you do?

Instead of complaining along with him, I wonder – what’s the solution? The answer comes in a flash: Cook your own fish at home. Marinate it overnight in the fridge with your favourite herbs and spices. Grill it in the oven with as little oil as possible.

Buy fresh greens which mama mboga cut with expert skill and in record time. Water fry your vegetables with lots of tomatoes because you don’t need oil to cook most foods – contrary to popular belief. Make brown ugali (mine) and white (his). Call up a few friends for dinner. Eat at the open rooftop, which he says is now colourful and vibrant with household plants from the neighbours. 

Enjoy fresh fis under the setting Nairobi sun. Play board games later on or watch an interesting African movie, like the ones which were screened by NBO Film Fest. Then thank Mama Oliech for the inspiration.

We finish all the ugali and vegetables and fis, because it’s rude to leave food on your plate. Satisfied, we drive back to Bambupelo with stomachs stuffed and hearts happy. 

It’s 6 pm.

The oontz

Inside Bambupelo, more coloured lights are on. Rathod is playing and he’s going heavy. No wonder he’s one of the best techno DJs in Kenya and one of [MONRHEA]’s favourites – last time I checked. 

But her favourite DJ set of the day is Kiambi’s (even though it wasn’t a full techno set), which we missed, all thanks to Mama Oliech and her fresh samak. 

As Rathod goes harder, I go to the back to get my face painted. Native Nairobi is on a wooden seat flanked by two girls, painting one girl’s hands with squiggly coloured lines and dots. Sogallo does the same but on my face. 

The Kenyan visual artist has transitioned from canvas to skin.

After my face beat, I ask him what he’s currently working on. 100 days of watercolour – it’s his third year doing it. Other than showcasing watercolour paintings he created in 100 days, he’ll also invite fellow Kenyan musicians to perform. A combination of visual art, music and spoken word.

The annual art exhibition will start on 20th November at Riverside Hotel in Kiambu. He also mentions doing a special event in an Airbnb, and the final one in late December will be a listening party for his music – which he describes as spoken word rap. 

He later freestyles and performs Kenyan hits by E Sir and Kleptomaniax that night during [MONRHEA]’s set. Which enthralls the late-night crowd. Tuendelee ama tusiendelee!

Being the versatile artist he is, he also shows me his photography portfolio enhanced by Photoshop. I recognize some of the Afrofuturistic pieces from the Afro Renaissance art exhibition at Alliance Francaise back in August 2018 – which feels like 5 years ago.

Before his phone dies, he shows me two gorgeous photos he took of two Kenyan queens I recognize – Jumadi who’s at the event, and Shikkiey the poet.

Native Nairobi, his Afro Renaissance partner, later joins us for some banter – he always has a joke up his sleeve. We talk about everything from Kanye West to high school R&B (rice and beans, not the music). 

DJ Shock who’s been sitting down next to us all this time stands up to say goodbye. But instead of leaving, she joins our conversation and reminds us why Beyoncé is more successful than other artists who can sing as well if not better than her (is that even possible?)

It’s called work ethic. You better work hard and play hard. 

I later find out she’s also part of the SEMA intermediate program for producers. DJ Shock, not Beyoncé. 

My legs are now getting tired and I can hear [MONRHEA] playing. I also feel guilty for leaving J all alone for that long. As soon as I announce my departure, the lights go out. That’s my cue to go. 

Back inside I sit down next to my friend. He doesn’t seem too bored, he’s been busy Facebooking. He introduces me to Mobius, the first Kenyan vehicle with a Chinese design – yes, he’s a motorhead. 

During the commercial break sponsored by the power outage, I also introduce him to my favourite ratchet Kenyan song: Pombe by Iyana. And I don’t even like alcohol. But with how sweet the muratina being served in the cow horns is, I’m tempted to sing leta pombe. 

We sit in the darkness and wait like the patient people we are. A few minutes later, one guy from the Bambupelo artist duo storms into the room announcing the lights are coming back. I wonder whether he saw them in a matatu on their way here. 

They had probably alighted at the Deliverance stage on Naivasha Road because one minute later, his prediction comes true!

The Aeipath crew spring back into action, setting up the lights and video stream on Mixcloud Live. They do a soundcheck for about 5 minutes. Then [MONRHEA] goes back on. 

The Queen of TCHNO

This time I pay attention. I sit upright on the cushioned chair, close my eyes and absorb the music. And it speaks to me.

It took a while, maybe years for techno to make sense to me. I still remember standing still during Temple Nairobi events at 4 am wondering what is this?

But when it hit me, it did. On this Sunday night, the bassy beats make me smile and nod my head and sway in my seat. 

The healing power of the oontz. 

I come up with a lot of sentences during this trance state. Including these ones. As my friend mentions, techno makes it easy to hear your thoughts.

When Mo fades out 30 minutes later, the whole room erupts into applause. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one enjoying this techno music. 

I’m tempted to stay longer but it’s past people’s bedtimes. We say our goodbyes to the last men seated – and standing. And [MONRHEA] reminds us the techno event happens every last Sunday of the month.

What a relief it is to travel and go home past 10 pm, I quip as we leave. Before the curfew was lifted, you had to stick where late-night found you. Whether at a boring party, in the CBD, or at your ex’s house.

This is TCHNO

From TCHNO 001 event back in August, one can see growth. It’s become a well-oiled machine, from the quick ticket check at the entrance to Branice making sure everyone is okay. The Bambupelo hosts now sell beer, water and fruit punch behind the bar – they even gave me a free banana. 

There’s so much potential for Bambupelo Art Shrine. You can host music listening sessions, artist workshops, art installation exhibitions, even music video shoots. With the right lighting, as J highlights

The TCHNO team includes Kenyan musicians who’ve played at the event before and friends of [MONRHEA]: Sayankah, Heka Muziki, Mbora the Explorer, Emmaus Kimani, Branice Mwanjilwa, Nabalayo, Kadallah, and maybe DJ Raph. Aeipath Studios take care of the sound, photography and videography. And they use Twitch to do test runs before the event.

TCHNO is more than celebrating Nairobi underground music and techno DJs in Kenya. It’s also about feeding techno heads with healing music, fresh food and natural brews (cue muratina and kombucha) on a relaxed Sunday afternoon. And bringing Kenyan artists together in a cosy intimate art space to commune, collaborate, and create art. 

Get to know more about TCHNO’s super unique lineup of Kenyan techno DJs on Instagram. You can also enjoy recordings of previous performances on their Currents FM channel. Including live performances by mama Changanya Nabalayo and nyatiti musician Kobleh Diploh.

So, what do you like to do on Sundays?

---