Grilling Festival

The text message I received from MTN, Africa’s biggest cell phone service, said there would be a grilling festival in a week. I held my breath with muted excitement. I hadn’t been out much. A public event promising grilled meats, beer and live music seemed like the thing I needed after weeks of work and solitude. 

When the evening arrived, I cleaned myself up, put on my flyest outfit and zipped on over to the Bio Guera roundabout on my moto. A landscape of bright yellow MTN canopies, flags and wacky inflatable tube men welcomed me with the sounds of thumping hip-hop beats and a rainbow of flickering strobe lights flittering off an empty stage. Two grills, looking like an afterthought, sat off to the side, adorned with a few lightly seasoned chicken thighs. 

I sat down at the last empty table and ordered a Castel. Not my preferred beer, but the event was co-sponsored by Castel, so it was my only option. The drum set on on stage hinted at a promise of live music. In the mean time, though, I sat through hours of a couple MTN-themed hip-hop songs on repeat, a game of musical chairs on stage, and two dance contests, in which they tried desperately to get just a few of the women in attendance to participate. These contests turned out to be fairly male-dominated, and the judges showed no sympathy for the couple of brave girls on stage. 

The thrill of winning a Castel t-shirt from a raffle I was entered into for buying two beers soon wore off. I was getting depressed about the fact that cultural events in African cities can only happen with the support of cell phone, beer or instant coffee companies. 

Even the Ganhi festival, the most important cultural event of the Bariba community was sponsored by the two biggest cell phone companies in Benin. The local chiefs entered on horseback, as is tradition, under yellow MTN umbrellas, as, I assume, is not tradition. Neon green signs advertising Moov, the other cell phone company, provided the background to their entrance. 

I once saw one of my favorite African rap groups perform in Dakar on a Nescafe stage, where young, attractive Nescafe reps dolled out as many free cups of their last-resort coffee as you were willing to drink at 1 AM. 

In Rwanda, the best way for a musician to gain a following is to enter Primus Guma Guma Superstar, the touring American Idol style tournament of rappers and singers sponsored by the country’s biggest beer company. The winner gets a cash prize and the obligation to appear in Primus advertisements. And please, cut off your dreadlocks for the photo shot.

By 10:30 the charm of the dance contests and the MTN girls performing on stage to the MTN theme songs wore off. I left without even tasting the grilled chicken. 

I rode home discouraged. 

As I approached my house on the edge of town, I thought I would just keep going. Just ride my moto into the bush and go on a midnight adventure. Few things have brought me more pleasure than just wandering rural trails and dirt roads. 

I passed my house and just kept going. I turned the next corner and was immediately confronted with the thumping sounds of drums and singing. The courtyard of a simple two-room cement shack was packed with men and women in a tight, layered circle. At the center, a young man led the singing while a few teenage girls, unaffected by the crowd onlookers, undulated their torsos to the frantic rhythms. Women howled their songs while the guys thumped their drums. Children danced independently on the periphery. Seasoned men banged metal percussion instruments from the comfort of their reclined reed chairs.

I leaned on the mango tree and bobbed my head to the sounds I had been looking for all along.

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This blog was unable to be posted in a timely manner due to the unreliability of the MTN internet service. Also, their internet is unfairly expensive and the software that comes with their modems should embarrass them.