The Dj Afro Effect

Now Get This: Dj Afro's Narration Turned Ordinary Movies Into Extraordinary Experiences

Apr 30, 2024

**To the veterans, it’s not just a phrase; it's a journey. A buckle-up moment that is tantamount to the now cultural** **Tudum!** **as it steadily took us from the introduction- Ruti za mwanzo mwanzo was Sinema till the climax- kipindi cha lala salama.**

Ah! Oh rrrrrrrrrait. Asante sana, maridadi. Pozi tena pozi kabisa...

Does this phrase ring a bell? If you are a little wet behind the ears and you are wondering what on earth I am talking about, let me bring you up to speed. You see, way back when, before acquiring a passport at the Ministry of State for Immigration and Registration of Persons at the Nyayo House became a pain in the ass, this golden phrase granted a majority of us, those without a Passport, a Visa or Air ticket, an incredible chance to tour the exotic places in the world and experience the goodness of the land for free. Bure. From Bangkok Thairand to New Derhi India. To the veterans, it’s not just a phrase; it's a journey. A buckle-up moment that is tantamount to the now cultural Tudum! as it steadily took us from the introduction- Ruti za mwanzo mwanzo was Sinema till the climax- kipindi cha lala salama.

No one will blame you if you say you have never heard of James Muigai. But you’ll probably not be forgiven if you say you have never heard of one of the top-ranking DJs in the world -DJ Afro Amigos. He’s one of the initial architectures of the entertainment industry in our days and the phrase above is his phenomenal opening signature statement.

**DJ Afro: The DJ who made movies speak. His opening signature phrase took me on a cinematic journey.**

Where did I first encounter this magical statement that got me hooked on DJ Afro movies? To unravel this mystery and to fully understand the vast scope of DJ Afros’ influence in my life and probably the lives of many Kenyans, I must first rewind to a time long before streaming giants like Netflix and Showmax dominated the entertainment industry. My love affair with DJ Afro movies began in 2007 at Sansiro and sadly concluded nearly a decade later upon joining High school. Makoshaaaa!

Courtship

We’ve all got experiences that will forever remain etched in our hearts and minds, and my experience at Sansiro is no exception. You might be wondering what I was doing at San Siro, the famed stadium in Milan, Italy. Well, tulia nikushow.

San Siro, holds a special spot in my heart simply because it was the setting where I first encountered that magical statement. It was a huge mabati hall or complex; an entertainment hub for movies and football. Inside, it was as dark as your typical theatre when a movie starts. The only source of light emanated from a king-size TV. I repeat, a TV not a screen. Remember those cathode ray tubes or TV za mgongo as we locally called them? Yes, hizo sasa. At the entrance, there was a vendor selling njugu karanga the modern-day popcorn equivalent, and whatever things that are offered today at movie theatres. Unlike the foldable fancy seats in theatres, the seats at Sansiro were made of wood and arranged like a staircase, ensuring that everyone had the perfect view. The only thing that was missing was the 3-D glasses. But this should be enough testament that there is truly nothing new under the sun. To briefly echo Ecclesiastes 1:9,

"What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun"

Outside, there was a blackboard with movie posters attached to it, along with the prices. Besides, the showtimes were calligraphically written in chalk with various colors.

For someone like me who couldn't afford kobole or ngovo in class one, we used to hang around those curtains at the entrance and enjoy sinema ya bure. I did this despite occasional warnings from my mother to avoid such places, referring to them as spots for wakora.

One Saturday afternoon, on my way home from those dreaded Saturday remedial classes- tuitions, I decided to take a moment to unwind and catch a little movie, enjoying my usual sinema ya bure. Little did I know, that afternoon would linger in my memory, stubbornly hanging around the way the scent of a Somali Woman’s perfume sticks around after she is gone. The plan was simple: watch a snippet of the movie for maybe 15 minutes and head back home on time. I was in the zone. Fully immersed in my movie when suddenly, I felt a barrage of strokes raining down on my back.

**His voice added a whole new dimension to movie watching.**

Eii yawa. I exclaimed internally as I turned to see my mom holding her red Bata patapata slippers. “Hii ni saa ngapi huja f…ika kwa nyumba?” The last bit fika kwa nyumba synchronized perfectly with the rhythm of the beating I received. Each syllable landing with the force of my mom’s swift patapata on my innocent back. I couldn’t help but wince like a lizard. The pain could have been more excruciating were it not for the protective barrier provided by my trusty DASO backpack. It was then that I realized I had lost track of time, and it was now dangerously close to six o’clock. Eh eh my lord... With tears in my eyes, I had to make a hasty retreat home, with my mom in hot pursuit for round two of beatings. Wololo yaye!

**Yoow, legends. Let’s confuse the King’s collection gang!**

I could have made some pitiful sounds to showcase the magnitude of my sobbing but I could be lying to employ those exaggerated tanakali za sauti. My friend, Swahili is a scam. I mean, seriously, never have I ever heard someone crying with a “kwi-kwi-kwi” sound. Lies. Hiyo ni uwongo. Ama, have you heard such a thing? Despite being warned not to go there, I defied the rules in pursuit of a little entertainment on my way home from school. But alas, it ended in tears. I cried and cried and cried.

Marriage

Cheki nanii, this event was enough to change my unwavering passion for DJ afro movies but it didn’t. Okay, it almost but it didn’t. Almost. I must confess however I had to stop going at the Sansiro cause my mum had threatened that she would tell on me to my dad. “Niki kupata siku inginie nitaambia baba yako.” This threat was enough to keep me at bay because, my dad, uweeh. Aki that man was a waya ya umeme upande wa mkono.

But then, in 2008, a year later, everything changed for the better. My parents bought a TV, a fancy JVC set and a DVD player-an LG one. We suddenly upgraded to a member of the secret society (a cartel), if you will. Illuminati msee. In short, we were bowling, living the high life.

**His narrations added depth to my movie-watching experience**

This meant one thing: unlimited and uninterrupted access to DJ afro movies. My brothers and I quickly devised a plan to save up for those coveted CDs that packed a whole 20 movies in one. And let me clarify when I say CDs, I mean Compact Discs, not whatever the street slang might imply these days.

Where there is a will there is a way, they say. So, we started saving 5 bobs from our lunch money just so we could indulge in the magic of DJ Afro. Akili mtu wangu. We couldn’t dare ask our parents to buy us those CDs. That was out of question because they could have hit us with the quintessential: ni movie mta ona ama ni kusoma mtasoma? We became religious consumers and followers of his content. Watching a movie without DJ Afro’s commentary was like watching the modern day EPL without Peter Drury’s poetic touch.

Ah, those were the days of simplicity. Stress-free days. Where we could just rush home to watch Ben 10, Johny Bravo, Ed, Edd n Eddy, and The Powerpuff Girls on NTV.

**Do you remember these days?** Photo Courtesy: Know Your Meme

Cartoons were just cartoons, plain and simple. None of these fancy names, sijui anime, or animation. To be honest, I can’t tell you the difference between the two if my life depended on it. My mum calls them cartoons and that’s good enough for me. If you are an Anime/animation enthusiast and you find this offensive, I have two words for you: shida yako. Come shoot me if you can.

Divorce

Anyway. Where were we? DJ Afro, donge? Right. Ndugu, brother mpenzi msomaji, nataka unielewe na unielewe kwa makini. When I stepped into the high school entertainment hall on my first night, I was met with culture shock. Amidst the excitement, I innocently asked a fellow student in the entertainment hall “Kwani they don’t play za DJ Afro huku?” His response was not what I expected. Instead of a simple answer, he looked at me and then he burst into laughter. The dude laughed! And laughed! And laughed. To put it bluntly, let’s just say he laughed at me.

“This form one is saying that we play Di ...Di …Djjj A…Fr..ooo movies…” He managed to choke out between fits of laughter while pointing to me. The people around couldn’t contain themselves. The laughter spread like wildfire throughout the hall. “Mshow hizo ni za washamba” someone chimed in, adding insult to injury. How could they crucify a freshman like that? With the influx of memes, I strongly believe if Black Panther had been released at that time. Someone would have sprinkled the classic “We Don’t Do That Here!”

Where I came from, in my hood, it was beyond cool talking about all those things za DJ Afro. He was a household name. But I forget to embrace one vital law: when you are in Rome, do as the Romans do. And this was one cardinal mishtake that cost me my love affair with DJ Afro movies. Ahh, I was in Ukambani anyway.

I thought it was cool talking about rocket-propelled machine guns and koroboshta (I later came to realize it had a more complex name: Gustaf m/45) wielded by Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sylvester Stallone until, oh boy, I encountered this species of cool kids who boasted and debated about superheroes. These were the DC and Marvel nerds who dissected every detail and speculated about the release dates of the next blockbuster movie. You could argue they had direct links to Iron Man. I, who the only thing I knew about movies was the thematic intro song by the Fox 20th Century Studio:

Pom pom. Pom pom.

DUN DA DAAAAA! DUNDA DUNDA DA DUN DADADA!

Oo oo oooooo DUN DA DA!

Oo oo oooooooooo DUN DA DA!

Oo oo ooooooooooooooooo DUN DUN DUN DAAAAAAA!

I couldn’t argue with these people who knew the real names of Wonder Woman and Captain America. Najua pia wewe hujui! I didn’t have a say in such debates. My knowledge was limited.

With all the pressure to fit in and to be seen cool, I had to do the most honorable thing a kid my age could do. I had to go hard or go home. There was no other option but to step up and bid farewell to the village mentality. There is a great quote by the father of evolution, Charles Darwin:

It is not the strongest of the species that survives, not the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is the most adaptable to change.

And just like that, I had to part ways with state-of-the-art vocabularies that were only familiar to Kenyans, especially the DJ Afro fan base. I am talking about phrases like: waya ya shtima, kemoda, makosha, right on time, githinyaku, guza ororo, kipindi cha lala salama, pigwa kama drama za hallelujah and off course not forgetting the sound effects when the staring was ruthlessly brutalizing the villain-inda!

It was a heartbreaking and a harrowing experience for the then 14-year-old me. It felt like a real heart break from my first love. Extremely difficult to move on, but it was necessary. In his words kilicho na mwanzo hakikosi mwisho, loosely translated to “everything that has the beginning must have an end.” But when I remember that experience, natokwa na wazimu.

And that’s the thing with change. It’s inevitable. Sometimes it comes from within, and sometimes we have to adapt to changing times. I can’t help but wonder what happened to those companies that used to manufacture those TVs with backs. What about my local Sansiro? Do they still get customers? What about those who used to sell DVD players? I am also pondering about that person in the street who used to sell compact disks for a living, and my heartfelt condolences to the Movie shops that used to burn the CDs for 50 bob. Nowadays people are streaming either legally or illegally, the fun just never stops. I think in the next few years movie shops will be a thing of the past. A true example of anthropogenic extinction. Ona sasa huelewi.

I honestly can’t remember the last time I visited such places, thanks to some Telegram channels and Goojara. But before the era of streaming and digital downloads, I have to acknowledge that DJ Afro graced most of my childhood. He helped me and majority of us decipher those Yakuza movies ensuring that we don’t do that one big mishtake of getting the plot wrong. He basically gave us the ins and outs of the movie with his stratospherically commentary skills. But we were young. Who even gave a damn about understanding the story line ? I was honestly there for the action and the thrill.

It’s all too easy to forget the formidable effect of this living legend by the number of smiles he put on our nation back in the days and still today, hapo Mzalendo TV and I think Gikuyu TV. He deserves to be celebrated for his contribution. What is your favorite vocabulary of his that you still remember to this day? Mine is Jack Kadere (leave yours in the comment section below) Let’s give him his flowers while he can still smell them.

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