Thread by @paushinski

REMMY'S BRAINS.
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1. There was a man, from Kivu, Congo. John Paul was his name. He lived a good life. To afford the godd life, he did bad things on the behest of evil greedy men who could pay for the bad things he could do. The kind of bad things that gave him, even, nightmares.

Bad things that gave even worse nightmares to people who survived his encounter.

Soon, he had a ‘Road To Damascus’ encounter. And the voice in the bright light that shone on him demanded his life. He changed his life, distributing his portable possessions as he headed East...

East out of DRC and fled. Fleeing his demons, and those of the people he did bad things too.
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2. There was a boy from Kindu, in the greater Kivu region of DRC. Right at the border of Democratic Republic of Congo, and the United Republic of Tanzania. The son of a single mother.

His father, a traditional musician and percussionist, long dead, and left a poor family. The boy barely a teenager. A diligent farmer but an adventurous spirit. He wanted to see the world but more, he wanted the world to see him.

He'd experienced hard life since his father died.

One day he came home with a guitar. He said he had been given by a preacher who said he used to be soldier. Where they now lived in Kisangani.

The soldier man gifted him anyway. And the boy from Kindu spent his evenings learning guitar, drums, and listening to shortwave radio.

The boy from Kindu was called Ramadhan Mtoro.
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3. When music finally called, Ramadhan Mtoro had had his feel of a tough life. He had tasted a bit of what by then he really did consider was the very good life of artists, traveling through his home country as a guitarist in bands.

But he was always scared music would not work out as he predicted, because of his father. He knew tilling land was more predictable. So he spent a lot more time farming.

When music finally called, Ramadhan Mtoro waited was still young, and handsome, and he was not yet a doctor.

He took his precious jembe, crossing the border on foot from his hometown of Kindu, into Tanzania.

By then he was now a young man. In his possession were a change of clothes, and a letter from his uncle, Kitenzogu Makassy, that had been delivered by a trader.

He had a few coins for bananas as well. The jembe was for little work here and there as he sought a place to sleep. He would lose it in a few days.

Ramadhan Mtoro’s other name was Ongala. The guy the world would soon get to know as Remmy Ongala. Soon to be, Daktari.

Soon to be a thorn in the flesh of the Tanzanian elite. Soon to meet a woman who would think he was the most handsome thing on earth. Soon to stop being handsome. Soon to be Sura Mbaya Remmy Ongala.

I say the world, because Remmy was not a well known session musician by then.

His uncle Makassy, who had also relocated from the same home just a small distance from that border, had his own band called Orchestra Makassy.

Orchestra Makassy’s lead guitarist brought his head and the short tempered leader who preferred to be called Mzee, lost it completely.

He kicked the guitarist into eternal oblivion.

Orchestra Makassy was a tiny but effective unit made up mostly of Congolese and Ugandan musical rebels. They were no push-overs, and were going on a Kenyan tour to take on all the other bands headlined by Congolese artists head on.

The plan for Remmy was to play in the tour and then go back home. Hopefully to try and make a name for himself in Kinshasa.

He arrived tired, rusted and desperate. He played with the band for a few weeks before the Kenyan tour and he really liked Dar. What's not to like in Dar?

He made a decision to stay a bit longer, and see what it offered. Meanwhile, his uncle was actively seeking a new permanent position for a guitarist.

When Makassy landed in Kenya, everyone who played the guitar took to Remmy’s kind of play. A fine blend of Congolese Rhumba.

Better yet, he could play almost everyone’s music by ear, thanks to the SW reception of radio Tanzania. In terms of Kenyan music, he could play, especially, everything Hodi Boys, and D.O. Misiani.

While in Kenya, Kenyatta and Nyerere had that big fight, and TZ closed the border.

Makassy decided to tour Kampala impromptu before going home but Remmy stayed on in Nairobi briefly, playing as a session guitarist.

While he was around, he interacted with the Benga artists of that era and learnt a thing or two about conscious music.

As if.

But he missed TZ.

In Nairobi, he met a businessman who introduced him to another businessman for Dar. He had a proposal to form a band and needed equipment. The businessman agreed to get him equipment and a place for them to play at provided they named the band after him until the debt is repaid.

They came to an agreement and band was then named Orchestra Matimila. Matimila mostly blended the Congolese Soukous with Tanzanian music and Kenyan Benga.

In a few short years Ongala and Matimila were already lined up to tour the world over. And they were the biggest band in TZ.

With age, Remmy felt the groove and the dance floor was not the only thing he can do with his music. Like the people he listened to, he wanted to play impactful music.

And turned his writing a notch higher. And often criticised the poor leadership in the country.

The jubilee of TZ had had enough and decided to deport him back to Congo on immigration charges. But there were threats of mass public unrest if that happened. And because of his global fame, that was tricky.

Instead, govt granted him full citizenship to try control him.

Wapi?

Now, what we know as ‘Bongo’ music, is a term coined by Remmy Ongala himself. Same way we know ‘Genge’ was coined by the premiere Calif Records duo. ‘Heavy thinking music’ is what he called it.

He pushed for 'Bongo' music from everyone and advocated for it at every opportunity.

When Remmy breathed his last on Monday, December 13, 2010, sickness had had its feel feeding on his body. He'd been confined to a wheelchair because of an earlier stroke. He was a diabetic and had generally left music in its entirety.

He too 'fled' leaving his guitar for others.

He had met his Lord and Saviour and was living for him, and he felt music was too worldly for him.

He left impact, and the greater foundation for the Bongo flavour.
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Ramadhan Mtoro Ongala.
A gem from Kivu.