It seems like humanitarian aid can include good music. Omeid International and Project Green Light have been busy connecting local hip-hop fans to benefit shows to help children victimized by the war in Afghanistan. After a sold-out show at San Francisco’s DNA Lounge and a massive free show in UC Berkeley’s main quad featuring f hip hop’s greats Immortal Technique, Chino XL, I was able to meet my old friend Shamsia Razaqi, who was speaking on a panel organized by the University of Santa Clara.

Razaqi is an organizer and long-time figure in the local hip hop scene as a writer for Silicon Valley De-Bug Magazine and a contributor to Cupertino’s 91.5 KKUP show Block to Block Radio. She now lives in the East Bay and co-founded the nonprofit humanitarian aid organization Omeid International to raise awareness of the conditions Afghan kids face. She is also working with Project Greenlight to build The Amin Institute in Kabul, an orphanage/school for children left without parents or an educational system. The name Omeid means hope in Farsi. Omeid International is a grassroots organization that came about after Razaqi took a trip back to the land of her parents.

Omeid International has been sponsoring concerts, fundraisers and speakers up and down California,and has a film festival in the works. This ambitious project will break ground in early 2009 on the initial facility that will house 20 orphans, three widows and provide medical and psychiatric facilities. Phase two will be a larger facility that will provide services to up 200 kids as well as offer a community health center and job training to those older than 10 years. Doctors will be on site to provide care to the countless children suffering post traumatic stress due to war, famine and lack of medical care.

Razaqi took some time to talk about what drives her fight for the kids of her homeland.

JC: Where did you grow up?

S: I was born and raised on the south side of San Jose, I went to high school at Oak Grove and then DeAnza College. I got my bachelors from Cal State Hayward in political science and pre-law. I am doing my Masters at SF State in international relations with a specialty in foreign policy of the Middle East and human rights.

JC : How did you meet Immortal Technique?

SR: I met Tech three years ago at Rock the Bells and told him about our cause and that we need help. By the way, we raised over $37,000 with Tech!!!

JC: Nice. How did you get your start in the nonprofit world?

SR: I started out as a writer for Silicon Valley De-Bug and other local magazines, then I started working as a health advocate for Afghan Refugees out here in the Bay at the Afghan Coalition and also worked on several political campaigns and as a recruiter for the Professors Union- CFA. It all turned when I went to Afghanistan and saw how serious the situation was there.

JC : What is Omeid all about?

SR: Our organization Omeid International is focused on restoring the hope that has become extinct in the lives of Afghanistan’s orphaned children. Over the past few decades, hope has been lost in the struggle to survive and resist the everyday ravages of war. We believe that by restoring hope to the lives of these orphans of war we can begin the healing process, and start rebuilding the country and its people. One cannot happen without the other.

JC: What is your title at Omeid International?

SR: I am a co-founder, vice president and chief operating officer. I, along with President and CEO Mariam Razaq, and CFO. Mojgan Mohammad, created Omeid International in 2006.

JC: Do you have any plan’s to write a book and document the cause?

SR: I hope I will write a book one day, God willing.

JC: What is your goal at Omeid International?

SR: The ultimate goals of our project are not only to house and protect orphans, but also to provide all the tools for proper development. These include access to regular medical and psychiatric care, education and nutrition. We deeply believe that the epidemic of violence that characterizes failed states in the Third World is a cycle that can and must be broken. States like Afghanistan cannot be rebuilt solely through infrastructure, but the people also need to be rebuilt. The past several generations have witnessed little more than war crimes and the rape of their nation, in the midst of all this they had to survive by any means necessary, a prime example being the Taliban, which was created by orphans in refugee camps. We want to prevent the rise of another Taliban, by providing another way out, by providing hope and breaking the cycle of violence.

JC: Do you think hip hop has a strong undercurrent of activism?

SR: Without a doubt, hip hop can be used as a tool for social change. I think Immortal Technique and his supporters are a testament to that. Music can be a beautiful and powerful expression that inspires some of the rawest emotions. Hip hop is a vehicle for truth and for telling your story to the world, a story that is otherwise overlooked by popular standards. Even from its roots hip hop has been about expressing the strife of urban life- the untold story. It has evolved, with the help of Technique and others like him, as a platform not only to speak on it but act on it.

Project Green Light is just that. Everyone is listening and agrees that something needs to be done and hip hop is the vehicle. But the people, the fans, the fresh minds that feel something when they hear a song, they are the ones who can mobilize true social change. Hip hop just plants the seed. The response from Project Green light has been immense. The number of donations and people interested in volunteering their time and help is proof that hip hop can inspire social change both at home and abroad. It’s been far too long that hip hop has been a sleeping giant, dormant amidst the vacant and vain top-40 rubbish. It’s time for a hip-hop renaissance.

JC: How do other artists get involved?

SR: The needs of Afghanistan’s orphans are so dire we do not discriminate against anyone willing to help. It’s not about hip hop, religion, politics or any of that hype and divisive rhetoric. It’s about finding people with the heart and determination to address such a serious issue. We are willing to work with a broad spectrum of supporters. But the reality of it is everyday people don’t have the time or passion to even think about these issues. They are just jaded in their own struggles. It takes passionate people to stand up and fight for these children.

JC: What is hip hop’s role in connecting young people from across the world?

SR: Hip hop already is a bridge between cultures and we have seen it transpire throughout South and Central America, Asia and the Middle East with young kids using hip hop to tell the stories no one else cares to report on. How we will use it is uncertain for now. We definitely want to offer children of the Amin Institute different artistic outlets. Perhaps hip hop can be one.

For more information on the work of Omeid International please visit Omeid

Two nominations at the upcoming Anugerah Industri Muzik 2008 (AIM 2008) this Saturday has got Boomerangx main man Coco Nantha all excited and talkative.

Boomerangx has been nominated in the newly introduced categories – best local Indian album and best musical arrangement in a song (non-Bahasa Malaysia).

The Jinjang, Selangor-raised Tamil hip hop star has waited for years and endured several line-up changes to get Boomerangx on the big stage – and there is every indication that the nation will finally wake up to the its infectious music when Boomerangx appears for a coveted live performance at the AIM 2008.

This year’s AIM awards also adds two other new categories – best local Chinese album and best Malay song performed by a foreign artiste.

This Tamil hip hop duo completed by MC Bullet may not be pulling several AIM nominations like pop rocker Faizal Tahir or songbird Siti Nurhaliza, but you can bet they will be out to give a good account of themselves at the glitzy music event.

There may have limited media exposure given to the Tamil hip hop but these guys are not complaining, and prefer to let the music do the talking.

At the AIM awards, Boomerangx will do a medley performance with pop singer Karen Kong, nominated in the best local Chinese album category.

“We’re just going to do our thing this Saturday, there is no need for nerves … we represent Tamil hip hop or more importantly, Malaysian hip hop, and we want to do the entire scene proud at the AIM awards,” said Coco, 32, with a chuckle.

The emergence of Tamil rappers is a story that is closely linked to efforts of the Indian Recording Industry of Malaysia (IRIM) – set up in the late 1990s to protect and promote the interests of music makers in the domestic Indian music industry.

Now, Boomerangx is on the verge of going further than any of its contemporaries into the mainstream.

Coco and the two original members of the collective – who opted out last year – started out as dancers while nurturing a fiery desire to make it big on the hip hop platform. The trio were taken under the wings of IRIM – which played a role in the creation of the Tamil category at this year’s AIM awards.

Six years of learning the workings of the industry yielded an impressive debut album, Nil Gavane in 2002, and a five-year wait for their second ensued and ended with Satriye Sambrajyem last November. Eleven years on the scene has led to a nomination at the AIM awards and Coco was quick to point out that this big break also doubles up as a fresh start.

“We never lost faith in the struggle of IRIM nor in our talent to deliver. We hope our accomplishment inspires budding musicians to enter the hip hop scene here but it is not as easy as it sounds,” cautioned Coco, who is the primary wordsmith in Boomerangx.

“Youngsters out of college think that hip hop is all about layering vocals over some beats and they believe in their own hype. They don’t search for guidance and, in their eagerness, think they are on the right path.

“These young people often end up not knowing to differentiate between bad music and songs that would be hits. We are more than happy to help them out. But they must be willing to grab the chance and utilise it properly.”

This is not a redundant promise. MC Bullet, who is 10 years younger than his Boomerangx partner, was initially a fan before he was invited to join the group. The Bangi, Selangor-based Bullet was not the first candidate – even though he was part of the Tribe 3 and Demolition Squad that made headways in the Blast-Off programme.

But Coco was impressed with his young sidekick’s determination, talent and dedication.

The AIM nomination is the breakthrough for Boomerangx. The album Satriye Sambrajyem is a deliberate departure from its debut and blends the old school hip hop that Boomerangx used as the base for Nil Gavane with contemporary hip hop sensibilities. The process of making the album also involved experiments with sampled sounds – synching empty bottle jingles with guitar tunes for example – and the use of the various languages and music instruments.

“The song Anaahatta – which features the serunai (reed wind instrument in traditional Malay music) – has attracted curiosity from the Malay crowd. The same is true of the song Liang Chai, which features singers from a number of races in Malaysia.

“This is no gimmick as we feel that we must to exert our Malaysian roots by using music that is available here. We should stop classifying music along ethnic lines and claim it as our own and I think this created the unique edge of Satriye Sambrajyem,” stressed Coco.

The duo’s hit single Liang Chai – to be unleashed at the AIM 2008 – is as unique as they come with Tamil, Malay, English and Cantonese verses flowing fluidly, and a shout-out to “the five-colour peeps” is street cool done with conviction.

With themes like empowerment, street respect, brotherhood and not forgetting some skirt-chasing mischief, Boomerangx has definitely been a hit with the young masses.

As the first Tamil rappers in the industry, Boomerangx also sees the need to uphold its pioneering credo.

The duo is keen to extend its fan base after releasing their debut album in Madras, India in 2006.

The hip hop market in south India is the target market with a growing fan-base. This development, Coco claimed, could be partly attributed to Boomerangx’s efforts in taking its debut album to that part of the Indian market where Tamil hip hop was non-existent.

“People in India respect would us if we make our mark in our own backyard and it is only when we do the business here that the opportunities from India trickle in. This AIM nomination has certainly helped take our music out there.”

Browse aim.com.my for the full list or nominees.

By NANTHA KUMAR (The Star Online)

Keenly aware that his dream might never come true, the 23-year-old musician decided to write about his feelings instead.

The result was a rap song called "Money".

"Colourful cars passing through my sight, it spotlights unequal lives," read his lyrics. "I look at back my life. There is no rice. I look at my pocket. There is only 500 kyats left. I want to have more than that."

Myanmar’s urban youth live in a country where censors for the ruling military strictly limit their access to international television, music and the Internet.

But even in this most isolated of nations, American hip-hop culture is influencing young people, who have adopted the music and style as their own.

"Except for breakdancing, I’m crazy about everything hip-hop — rapping, DJ-ing, graffiti art and fashion as well," said Ye, who goes by just one name and performs as YE2.

With half his face hidden beneath a blue baseball cap, and big earrings held in place by screws, Ye says he likes to write songs about "money, social prejudice and youth".

He started out performing with two rapper friends, and they scratched together some money to put together an album on their own and came up with a compact disc with four tracks, which they released in 2005.

"We didn’t have any spare money. We split the fees for the music arrangement. That was so expensive for us," he said.

Ye said he and his friends spent about 220,000 kyats, or 180 dollars to produce their four songs — a fortune in a country where many workers earn less than one dollar a day.

Even in a city where electricity runs for as few as six hours a day, Ye and other hip-hop artists say they rely on computers to create sounds that have never been heard here.

"Combining technology and creativity, we try to create something new. To find a beat for a song, sometimes we stay up all night working on it," said 21-year-old DJ Kavas.

"Our musical sense is not limited by theory or notes. Depending on the mood of the music, we can explore many forms of music," he said. "We have found freedom and originality in this music."

– Freedom is rare in Myanmar –

Freedom is rare in anyone’s life in Myanmar. The military has ruled here since 1962, maintaining its grip by deploying legions of secret police and informers to keep watch over the population.

The ruling junta beats down any dissent with a brutality that erupted into the international spotlight last September, when soldiers opened fire on peaceful anti-government protests led by Buddhist monks.

In such a repressive environment, 24-year-old rapper Thuta said hip-hop was the only way for him to express himself without fear.

"We can talk freely in our music. We can just sing by knocking a beat on a desk, while just sitting there. This way we can communicate directly with people in the streets," he said.

"Hip-hop is a spoken music," said another musician, 23-year-old Chan Duu. "It is like an outlet for us. We can open up our hearts through music."

They may feel free when they perform, but it’s another story all together when they record their music. Censors comb through their lyrics for any possible offence and often require changes before allowing them to sell their albums.

Thuta said the censors did not like the word "shout" in one of his songs — they ordered him to replace it with the word "happy".

"Then my song sounded crazy! Sometimes I sing the song and just mute out the censored words" so fans will know where the censors have ordered cuts, he said.

Censors also keep tight control over radio stations, forcing young artists to find other ways to reach listeners. So rather than hope for radio time, hip-hop musicians give free CDs to Yangon’s ubiquitous teashops to play on their small stereos.

If their music becomes popular in teashops, the musicians might win a slot at a music festival, which is the gateway to finding a professional producer and tapping into a bigger audience.

Ye succeeded in doing just that, playing at a festival where he won an award, which in turn led to a producer putting some of his music on a new compilation album.

With his newfound success, Ye said he no longer dreams of buying a luxury car.

"I want to buy some walls, and I want to write everything I feel on the walls, with words or with images, to practise hip-hop culture through graffiti," he said.

"I want to be free to tell people what I feel through my words and images."

First up, 50 Cent: “They say I walk around like got an S on my chest/Naw, that’s a semi-auto, and a vest on my chest/I try not to say nothing, the DA might want to play in court/But I’ll hunt or duck a nigga down like it’s sport/Front on me, I’ll cut ya, gun-butt ya or bump ya.”

Now Beijing: “In Beijing, walk along Chang’an Avenue/In Beijing, there are many exotic beautiful women/In Beijing, you can burn incense at the Lama Temple/In Beijing, study history at the Forbidden City.” It’s enough to make Snoop Dogg weep. China has accomplished what millions of disapproving parents could not: tamed hip-hop music. Chinese rappers deliver lyrics that glorify national pride, celebrate tourist attractions and preach against the dangers of adolescent impulsiveness. One group is so proud of its songs, it has affixed a sticker to its debut album asking fans to share it with their parents.

Of course, hip-hop is very young in China. Most of today’s crews – Dragon Tongue Squad, Kung Foo, Hi-Bomb and MC Bo Webber, from Yin Tsang – have been in the game for only a couple of years. Before that, hip-hop was proscribed, with most kids struggling to get hold of American albums. “Almost all hip-hop records were banned because of the dirty words and sexual imagery,” says Jian Wei, who runs the break-dance crew Underground Gang of Hip Hop. Now the Chinese hip-hop scene is exploding, with more cross-cultural links than any previous Chinese music. This month, for instance, Dragon Tongue Squad – consisting of Crazy Chef, Kirby Lee and the national freestyle battle champion J-Fever (aka Lil Tiger) – play the UK for the first time.

Yet, almost accidentally, Chinese hip-hop is managing its own sneaky act of rebellion. The first attempt to rap in Mandarin was by the Chinese rock star Cui Jian, on a mid1980s album. His problem, and one that still dogs Chinese MCs, is that the language doesn’t lend itself to the hip-hop flow. Mandarin is built from four vowel tones that have to be pronounced correctly. It’s also hard to break up words into syllables, so the sharp, broken rhyming and rhythmical style of rap is difficult for Mandarin-speakers.

Dragon Tongue Squad, and others, are reaching back to once banned dialects to create sharper, crisper lyrics. “Some Shenzhen people can rattle their tongue at high speed, and we think that could give us the Chinese Busta Rhymes,” says Crazy Chef. “Cantoese, with its nine tones, is a lot easier, and there are regional storytelling styles that include rolling vocals. We’re trying out those languages because we think they would be better for hip-hop.”

“Chinese hip-hop is a prism through which you can see the way the country is changing,” says Robyn Read, producer of Hip Hop China Style, to be broadcast on Radio 4 next month. “Although this is a generation that has little interest in political reforms, they’re breaking down the stiff rules on official language and rediscovering aspects of their own culture that were all but banned. It’s going to be interesting to see if it will bring them up against the Communist party in any way.”

Indeed, Kirby Lee admits that his involvement in hip-hop has led to some distinctly rebellious behaviour. “I got my first hip-hop CD from a French journalist,” he recalls. “It was A Tribe Called Quest. I loved the beat, the rhyme rhythm. So I got some old drum machines and would stay up until four in the morning working on beats.” He pauses. “And maybe take some mushrooms and smoke a bit. So my classmates thought I was a druggie.” He burst out laughing. “I guess I was.” Now that sounds like a rapper talking.

by Stephen Armstrong (The Times, London)

By Siddhartha Mitter
Globe Correspondent / January 30, 2008
NEW YORK – She’s as conversant in the arcana of classic, early-’90s hip-hop as she is in the folk music of her family’s native Punjab, India. Spinning on her turntables today, you might find Bollywood anthems, baile funk from Brazil, or neo-Balkan brass-band grooves from her adopted Brooklyn.

Rekha Malhotra, known to one and all as DJ Rekha, is as globalized, hybrid, diasporic – all those adjectives that attempt to encapsulate the cross-fertilizing spirit of our time – a cultural figure as you could ask to encounter.

Her monthly dance party, "Basement Bhangra," is an institution in the club scene here, having recently entered its 11th year at the downtown nightspot S.O.B.’s and still packing the house with its signature mix of South Asians and their multicultural friends. (She headlines the Middle East Upstairs in Cambridge tonight.)

Now she has a brand-new album, also called "Basement Bhangra," that, for the first time, documents the sound of the scene. It’s an exhilarating mix of club anthems battle-tested on the dance floor at her parties, alongside new tracks that she helped to conceive and produce with collaborators in the United States and the United Kingdom.

At her Brooklyn apartment on a recent evening, Rekha is amid her record crates, assembling materials for a quick weekend swing to Utah, where she’ll open for rapper Rahzel, and then Colorado, where she has a gig with the activist-MC Michael Franti. Earlier this month, she spun in St. Thomas at the opening of a reggae club.

"I love the challenge of these situations," she says, taking a break over a whiskey and soda. "I walk in there with a bag of tricks. I got it all, right? Because my musical tastes are diverse. But I bring them onto my side eventually. I won’t walk out of there, usually, without playing desi music."

Desi (pronounced day-see, it means "from the homeland") is the self-identifying term of young South Asians in the diaspora. As that community has gained visibility, Rekha has done as much as anyone to shape its soundtrack.

At the heart of her sound, of course, is bhangra – a traditional folk music from the agrarian Punjab region that emphasizes repetitive lyrical forms called bolis, to the beat of shoulder-slung drums called dhol.

The first stage in bhangra’s mutation took place in the immigrant communities of the English Midlands, amid the influence of house and other club styles and, perhaps most of all, Caribbean sounds. But with the spread of the diaspora and the rise of instant electronic collaboration, she says, the music is now made all over. One song, for instance, features Gunjan, a singer who flew up from North Carolina to record vocals in New York for a track assembled in Glasgow.

The taste for bhangra comes naturally to Rekha, who grew up in a Punjabi family, first in London and then, from age 5, in and around New York City – though she also points out that at home, Bollywood was more the fare.

"Being Punjabi definitely had some benefits, having some familiarity with the lyrics," she says. "And having ties to England helped a lot, having a cousin there, having that easy connection, in terms of access to music pre-Internet and all that."

Rekha feels bound neither by the "traditional" Punjabi folk sound nor by the strictures of the UK scene, which she finds insular and competitive. As perhaps bhangra’s foremost ambassador in this country, she offers a take on the sound that is more attuned to the American desi experience.

"There’s more hybridity here," she says. "We grew up listening to different kinds of music, whereas even the third-generation kids in the UK, the ones that listen to bhangra, only listen to bhangra."

That outlook helps explain the enduring success of Rekha’s party, says Dave Sharma, a producer who has collaborated with Rekha for several years.

"She’s found that formula that keeps Indian kids coming and they feel it’s an Indian party, and hipsters from downtown and Williamsburg feel welcome," Sharma says. "No other party even comes close to that."

As bhangra, hip-hop, reggae, Bollywood, and other forms of what she calls "international aggressive dance music" lap up against one another in the sets she spins, Rekha worries less about authenticity than about the way it comes together on the dance floor.

"That’s the fun about doing a live DJ set," she says. "You get to build that bridge. And to me the art of DJing is like that, when you are truly eclectic and really can just go anywhere. It’s a question of figuring out the balance and bringing them in."

"Fight the Power," "Don’t Believe the Hype," "It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back" – these were anthems of emancipation, empowerment and education, a lyrical call to arms charged with the poetry of Gil Scott-Heron and the fury of Malcolm X.

Today, however, political hip hop in the United States is as dead as disco. Flip through any of the music channels and a horde of diamond-encrusted children flog you with crass, self-indulgent materialism, vanity-label perfumes and a shopping list of expensive pretty things you will never own.

The articulate activism that once defined the genre has all but disappeared, leaving in its place a grotesque serving of the worst kind of capitalism – a vain, vacuous, self-serving materialism where you either get rich or die trying. Little wonder, then, that one of American hip hop’s most successful sons, Nas, entitled his last album "Hip Hop is Dead."

But, then again, don’t believe the hype. Hip hop as a political medium is far from dead. Throughout Africa and across the Arab world it is thriving. In particular, young musical renegades from Algeria to Gaza have embraced the genre as an exciting new sociopolitical platform. The subculture of Palestinian hip hop is adeptly captured in Jackie Salloum’s critically acclaimed documentary, "Slingshot Hip Hop," which made its world premiere at the Sundance Film Festival in Park City, Utah, earlier this month. Salloum’s film profiles a number of home-grown hip-hop groups, including DAM, Palestinian Rapperz (PR), Arapeyat, Abeer, Mahmoud Shalabi and more.

Another group at the forefront of this musical intifada is Beirut’s latest hip-hop sensation, Katibe 5. Refugees straight outta Burj al-Barajneh, these five talented twenty-something MCs are the heirs of Public Enemy and its ilk. As artists who combine Arabic music, political activism, social commentary and, of course, hip hop, they are creating a fresh, dynamic form of political resistance.

Each member of Katibe 5 goes by his chosen nom de guerre. Nadir, or Moscow, is the group’s stern-faced, serious and solemn pragmatist. The affable Amro, aka C-4, boasts a confident, extroverted charisma that is nowhere near as menacing as his plastic-explosives nickname would suggest. Katibe 5’s resident graphic artist is Tarek "The Butcher" Jazzar. Bobo is quick-tongued and articulate, originally from Sierra Leone. And Yousri, known as Molotov – "Or Molo," he quips, "What name do you want? I’ve got plenty" – is the joker of the pack.

These eclectic characters have been recording music together since they were 15-year-old mates in a Burj al-Barajneh school run by the United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA). "No, not a school exactly. It was a small prison," Bobo promptly clarifies.

The group recently signed a deal with Lebanon’s Incognito, an upstart record label and independent distributor associated with La CD-Theque, a record shop with branches near Sassine in Achrafieh and the American University of Beirut in Hamra.

"Like the name says, they’re not commercial," says Bobo. "They’re underground." Katibe 5’s first album, "Welcome, My Brother, to the Camps," is due to be released on Incognito in two weeks’ time.

The group’s music encompasses a variety of subjects, including the conditions of refugee life, corrupt humanitarian aid agencies and non-governmental organizations, Iraq, capitalism, Palestine, the 2007 conflict in Nahr al-Bared and relaxing on a Saturday night. Inspired by the older, more political generation of US hip-hop acts, Katibe 5 shares their same idealism.

"We’re the students of Public Enemy," says Bobo. "They succeeded in teaching people and we want to continue this. Our message is sociopolitical. You can’t separate the social from the political."

Chatting on the roof of the building in Burj al-Barajneh where Jazzar lives with his family, the members of Katibe 5 converse about politics, philosophy, literature and economics with the same passion and energy they put into their music.

"Have you read Nietzsche?" asks Moscow. "You like Frantz Fanon?" chimes Bobo. "What about Yukio Mishima?" adds Molo. "You don’t know Mishima? Kenzaburo Oe then? C’mon, man. You must read Mishima, Oe, all the Japanese writers, man. They’re good. They’re like this," Molo explains, holding his thumb and forefinger together to create an exact, precise point. "They give the wall its true image."

These well-read, fast-talking, wisecracking, chain-smoking refugees don’t present themselves as musicians but rather as Marxist revolutionaries – more PFLP than Notorious B.I.G.

"We are part of a revolution," says Moscow, "a musical revolution. It’s happening here and all over the world. We’re the adverb. We come before the verb. We’re preparing people for action," he says, a Che Guevara bracelet slipping out from under his sleeve to punctuate his revolutionary rhetoric.

Katibe 5 sees itself as being on a genuine musical mission to increase awareness, educate people and instigate global action and resistance.

"We want people to wake up and realize their rights and responsibilities. We want people to realize that companies are trying to control their behavior," says C-4.

The audience that Katibe 5 addresses doesn’t only reside in the refugee camps. The group expresses a Trotskyite solidarity for all of the world’s oppressed.

As Moscow explains Katibe 5’s aims, "We have a responsibility not just to reflect this life. We’re not just Palestinian refugees speaking about our problems, or our lives in the camps, because the problems we face are not only a Palestinian problem. All over the world there are people who are oppressed, people who are incarcerated, people who are suffering."

So what or who, in Katibe 5’s view, is the cause of this global suffering? "It’s the system, man," says Bobo

"The system" is a recurring bogeyman in Katibe 5’s music and ideology: a perceived, pervasive superstructure that keeps people ignorant, poor and backward.

"We’re fighting the system," Bobo expounds, "the system that makes people blind, and makes people ignore their rights and responsibilities.

"Look at hip hop," he adds. "The mainstream record companies want to say that hip hop is about cars, b****** and getting money. You should have this, you should have that. You should have a mobile phone because if you don’t have a mobile phone, you’re not a human. [But] hip hop’s not about that."

So what, exactly, is hip hop  about, then?

"Hip hop is a weapon for all oppressed people," says C-4.

"Hip hop is a movement," says Bobo. "It has always existed because hip hop is life. From the beginning there were always people living, people suffering. Hip hop is the art of talking, of expressing yourself. Lyrics are its base. You find it in poetry, essays and here in Arabic culture. It has existed from the beginning. As long as people are oppressed and incarcerated they will have something to say."

Illustrating their point, they start free-styling over the camp’s background beats: children playing, hammers hammering, the call to prayer coming from a nearby mosque and – this being last Sunday afternoon – the sounds of deadly riots in the Dahiyeh.

"Hip hop is based on the street and so it cannot be anything but political," says Bobo, satisfied with the clarification.

Perhaps it’s a reflection of their context, youth or political and musical influences but there is an ominous paranoia undercutting Katibe 5’s worldview, as well as an open acceptance of resistance by any means necessary.

"You know what, man?" C-4 warns. "They know what hip hop does to society and they want to kill it and stop its flow."

"You have to fight for your rights," adds Molo. "Peace means politics, politics means negotiations, negotiations are meant to sustain negotiations and not bring a solution. So I say, f*** negotiations, f*** politics and f*** peace."

Putting aside the philosophical musings and antagonistic worldview for a bit, what really counts is the music and, thankfully, Katibe 5’s debut album is good, good enough to give some merit to Katibe 5’s grand ideas and political pretensions.

The group’s sound – a mix of traditional Arabic melodies, rap, beat-boxing, poetry and sampled news footage – is in many ways unique. It’s a far cry from the majority of loved-up popular Arabic music and perhaps more importantly, it’s enjoyable to listen to. Think Public Enemy with an Arabic twist – loud, satirical, relevant and hard to ignore.

The contrasting voices and styles of the five members complement one another well, and they give the music variety and depth. To be sure, some songs are a little rough around the edges, but that is also part of the appeal. On track after track, Katibe 5’s sincerity, raw energy and youthful vigor carry their music. Furthermore, the group isn’t afraid to experiment. This gives them the potential to get bigger and better, and to receive the attention they deserve.

But ultimately, they couldn’t care less about what other people think. "All that matters is this," insists Molo. "Know your aim in life, do it and then die. There’s nothing else. Everything else is emptiness."

NEWS
21 January 2008
Posted to the web 22 January 2008

By Jude Katende
Kampala
MANY local music pundits have labeled hip-hop a dead genre in Uganda. However, the big turn up of youths at Lugogo indoor stadium last Friday challenged this notion.

In a bid to support the genre, MTN Uganda has started the anual hip-hop and R&B Battle.

Impressed with the turn-up and talent display from some teenagers as young as 12, MTN’s Gasper Mbowa promised to make it bigger next time. Several secondary schools had representatives of their R&B and hip-hop stars. Young and impressive Arthur Wasswa of Kololo Secondary School came top for hip-hop and Sarah Lakerry of Our Lady Gayaza emerged best in R&B. Wasswa rapped like an established artiste and convinced the four judges that he understood the "game" well.

At stake were a recording contract, ipods, airtime and phones. As is usually the case at local hip-hop events, fans and artistes seem to be in a fashion competition of sorts. This one brought out the best, worst, stylish and weirdest of hip-hop fashion. Bling bling, overalls, minis and tracksuits were favourites. Some youths had cornrows and Snoop Dogg-like hairstyles.

Other features included a fashion show and basketball skill displays. Klearkut’s Mith and Navio, Lyrical G, GNL and T’Bro, a Rukiiga language rapper, spiced up the show.

Frenzied fans seeking autographs besieged Navio and Bataka Squad’s Babaluku while DJ Shiru impressed with his music mixing skills.