Papa Wemba

Nick Dwyer

I’m super excited about our next guest, and especially excited to have some representation from Francophone Africa. You know that one of the most incredible things of musical discovery is the constant discovery of old music. I think a lot of people in this room [have] had the pleasure of jumping down the incredible wormhole that is discovering African music - and the thing about African music is that every single country in Africa has its own regional styles, [styles] that have been developing for decades.

Obviously, many people in this room are familiar with the music of Fela Kuti and Afrobeat (and of course Highlife, which was a musical style that began in Sierra Leone and West Africa, and became very popular in Ghana), and obviously in South Africa you've had styles like Miriam Makeba and Hugh Masekela, and Ethiopia with the whole EthioJazz movement.

Like I say: every country has its own incredible style. But there’s one style of music that has had such an incredible impact all throughout Africa, and that’s the style of Congolese soukous and the music of Congo. Our next guest just so happens to be one of the biggest stars of Congolese music: he got a start in 1969 with a group called Zaiko Langa Langa, which went on to become one of the greatest bands Congo ever knew.

He performed in Zaire ’74, he then had a group called Isifi Lokole, and Viva la Musica - and still, to this day, is one of the greatest voices [that] the Congo has ever known. Also, if anyone has seen those photos on the Internet of those very well dressed gentlemen of Kinshasa, this was a movement that this man here helped to found. Needless to say, we’re going to have some great stories over the next couple hours. Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for Papa Wemba.

Papa Wemba, thank you so much for joining us today.

Papa Wemba

Thank you very much. I’m very happy to be here, and to share the work that I’ve done over several decades, with all the people present here today.

Nick Dwyer

Great. And by the way, one thing I will say: obviously, as most of the people in this room aren’t speaking French, we’re wearing these devices. So if there are any slow pauses on my behalf, after each translation, please bear with me. But look: Papa Wemba. It’s so great to have you at the Academy. It’s truly an honour. It must be noted that a couple of days ago you flew in from Kinshasa, the city where you were raised, and you are heading to Kinshasa tonight. Tell us about Kinshasa, right now, in 2015.

Papa Wemba

Wow. Kinshasa is a huge city, and it’s really diverse. There are foreigners here, and we’re very happy to welcome them - we house them, we don’t expect anything in return - but it’s a huge musical city as well. On every street corner you can hear music that’s broadcast all the time, very loudly. And apart from music, the locals also love football. They love football.

Nick Dwyer

You weren’t born in Kinshasa, but from a very early age you moved to Kinshasa. You were born in 1949, so all of a sudden you’re growing up in Kinshasa in the ’50s. Tell us about that. What was Kinshasa like to grow up in the ’50s?

Papa Wemba

My father was someone who had fought with the Belgian Army during the Second World War, and just after his military conscription he decided to settle in Kinshasa. My mother was still too young at the time, so she stayed in the village - and while she was pregnant, too, so I was born in a small village. A little time afterwards my dad decided to move us to the capital, which was called Leopoldville at the time because it was still a Belgian Colony. I grew up in Leopoldville (and I studied there as well), and that’s also where I started my career. I think that was 20 years after I was born.

Nick Dwyer

So Leopoldville, up until 1960: you know that 1960 was when Congo gained its independence. Just to give us an idea of the music that you were hearing around this time, what music were listening to growing up? What was Congolese music like in the ’50s?

Papa Wemba

Well, when we were growing up, every Sunday without fail there were traditional bands who came from all over the country: who would go from street to street, to play music in the open air; absolutely free, traditional music. In the Congo there were over 450 ethnic groups, and each of them has their musical style, so we were very, very lucky. We were blessed to have that incredible richness. So I grew up with all those musical styles and I listened to them from everywhere. And Kinshasa was also one of the first African cities to begin to import music from other places - music from abroad, basically - and that’s how I managed to take in a lot of different musical styles.

Nick Dwyer

All right. During this time, the modern music of Congo had a man named Wendo Kolosoy, aka Papa Wendo, and I think we’re going to listen to a track right now that was one of the biggest hits of the ’50s. Tell us a bit about Papa Wendo, the first time you remember hearing Papa Wendo, and his influence within Congo?

Papa Wemba

Well, Wendo Kolosoy was one of the greatest singers and guitarists of the Congo. He was hugely successful. From time to time he was in Kinshasa and Brazzaville, because they’re the closest cities in the world. There’s only a river between them and crossing that river takes 20 minutes. Kolosoy used to go to Brazzaville every so often, where he met his friend Paul Kamba. Paul Kamba had his own group [called] Victoria that played live really often. When Wendo heard [Victoria], he came back to Kinshasa and created his own rival group. This group was also called Victoria and that’s how Wendo got his success. In the beginning he worked on boats - he was a sailor, his boat went all over - and each time he went on his boat he’d take his guitar and he would sing for the passengers.

Nick Dwyer

All right. We’re going to listen to a track by Papa Wendo right now. This is a track that I think was released in 1953. It’s called “Marie Louise.” When you hear that song, Papa Wemba, what does it take you back to? What does it remind you of?

(music: Papa Wendo – “Marie Louise” / applause)

Papa Wemba

Well, actually, I’m going to tell you a story. Something I heard. Because I was still a kid when this came out, I didn't know it that well. But people said that every time he sang this song, people would come back from the dead. It’s true. It’s a true story. Because if you go into a spot, an open-air bar, and there aren’t many people, whenever he played this song lots of people would come seemingly out of nowhere. Beautiful ladies and well dressed men. People thought that they were people who came from some other world, so we really did believe that. And we still believe it now, actually. “Marie Louise” is a woman’s name. It’s Marie and Louise, two names together. And in Lingala, we say “Mali Louisa.”

Nick Dwyer

Just for people in this room that don’t know, what is Lingala?

Papa Wemba

In the Congo, there are four vernacular languages: Lingala, that’s spoken everywhere in the whole country, Swahili, that’s also spoken mainly in the East, Choruba, which is spoken in the centre of the country, and Kituba, in the South. But Lingala was a language invented by soldiers, to communicate amongst themselves. And Congolese Rumba is spoken more often in Lingala than anything else.

Nick Dwyer

I think what’s interesting in listening to that track is you get a little bit of an insight into the musical melting pot that was Congolese music in the ‘50s. And underpinning the track that we just heard is that base Highlife rhythm - that “da da da - da da” - and the influence of Cuban Rumba, in particular. What I’d like to know is, especially with the Cuban side of things, how was this music finding its way into Congo in the ’40s and ’50s?

Papa Wemba

Oh, great. The inspiration for Congolese music came initially from Highlife music. It was Highlife, and afterwards Le Grand Kallé, [that] brought electric guitar sounds to Congo. For Congolese Rumba in the ’50s, we listened to a lot of Afro-Cuban music. It was all those influences that made Congolese Rumba into what it is today basically: the incorporation of the electric guitar, of wind instruments; a plethora of like-minded singers, because we didn’t know that you just had one singer that played for one band. We had lots of different, interchangeable singers, and that went on for a long time. There was also an evolution happening in the world. Technology was moving forward, and that’s still happening today.

Nick Dwyer

I think one thing that’s really interesting about the Cuban influence is that, if you go back in time to the 16th century, it was in fact slaves that came from Congo and Angola that ended up in Cuba [who] brought music and rhythms that had been with them for generations and generations, and in a very interesting way. Now, all of a sudden, those African rhythms that were in Cuba came back to Africa. Were the Congolese aware of that history, and did they feel also that you know their music and their rhythms were coming back to them finally?

Papa Wemba

Well, it’s like a boomerang. As we were saying before, us - the Congolese - we weren’t slaves. And when we mention Rumba, we’re not the ones who gave it that name. Actually it’s the white man who [did]. Rumba at the beginning was a dance. It was a dance [called] Kumba - Kumba means “belly button” - and it was “the belly button dance.” The white man, instead of saying “Kumba,” used to say “Rumba,” and that’s the way things stayed. And people from Angola, a lot of them became slaves. Us Congolese, we didn’t have to experience that. But all those influences… well, there was one great musician from Angola, De Oliveira, who lived and played in the Congo. He also influenced Congolese music. So Congolese music had undergone lots of changes, from influences from all over the world.

Nick Dwyer

What was the moment for you, Papa Wemba, when you discovered that you had a voice yourself? Now I understand that your mother used to sing. If you tell us a bit about the role [she played]: she was what was known as a “mourner.” If you could tell us a bit about that and just, you know, when you started to sing with her, during this time as a young man in Kinshasa?

Papa Wemba

Lots of people never understand: at home in Africa, lots of things happen that will be difficult for you to understand as Europeans. Each time there’s a funeral we don’t take our dead to the morgue. They come back home, where they used to live. We set them up outside, and the whole village comes and cries for the deceased - for those who have disappeared. That’s changed a lot today, but in the past that’s how things happened. And there are people all around who come and sing on a voluntary basis. They weren’t professionals or anything like that. Basically, no money exchanged hands. They did this because they wanted to, and my mother was a mourner in this fashion. For decades, I was living alone with my mother and she would take me everywhere. She would sing [and] she would cry at various funerals. That’s it, basically.

Nick Dwyer

When did you start singing with her?

Papa Wemba

I never sang with my mom. She actually… well, from time to time, at home, when I was just starting to hum a tune and she’d hear me sing, she’d come towards me and listen to what I was doing. If I sang very well, she’d say, “Oh, well done my son,” but if I was losing the tune a bit she would correct me. She was my first audience and my singing teacher, and I wasn’t even 10 years old. When I was 11 or 12-years old, maybe 13-years old, in the neighborhood where I grew up with my friends, we would create our own instruments - our own guitars, our own drums - and [go] from street corner to street corner.

I was the only singer in this group of friends with our homemade instruments. That’s how I started, [between] 12 and 14-years old. I think that was in me already and I was more than willing to do that. When I was 15-years old, I forgot all about that and I got into football instead - because I love football as well - but you know, luckily or unluckily for me, I didn’t last that long in that field. When I was 19-years old I decided to leave school and sing instead.

Nick Dwyer

Just before we get to this kind of monumental moment in your career where you launch your own band, I just want to go back in time a little bit, to 1960. You would have been about 11 or 12-years old. There was another artist called Joseph Kabasele – or Le Grand Kallé, as he was known - and in the history of Congolese music, after Wendo, he kind of took Congolese music to its next evolution. But what’s really important about the next track [that] we’re about to play is this was the song that [was] played everywhere in 1960. This was the anthem not just for Congo, but also for much of Africa. What does this track [mean, and] how important was what happened in 1960?

Papa Wemba

Actually, in the ’60s, almost 50 African countries claimed their independence. At that time the Congolese government had asked Le Grand Kallé to bring a group of artists and musicians to the round table discussions in Brussels, where politicians were brokering Congolese independence. In turn, Kabasele and his band penned a tune, “Independence ChaCha,” which went all around Africa. Up and down the continent. I remember [that] three or four years afterwards, 17 African countries celebrated 50 years of independence and it’s the only song that went all over the world.

Nick Dwyer

Let’s have a listen to it with that great intro. Thank you Papa Wemba. This is “Le Grand Kallé” and it came out in 1960, as Papa Wemba mentioned, for the independence of Congo. This is “Independence Cha Cha.”

(music: Le Grand Kallé – “Indépendance Cha Cha” / applause)

Nick Dwyer

So, once again: Joseph Kabasale, Le Grand Kallé, “Independence ChaCha.” Can you paint us just a quick picture, Papa Wemba, of the feeling in the air? I mean: you were 11 or 12-years old, Congo was free; it was independent from what the history books will tell you was one of the harshest colonial rules, at the hands of the Belgians. Were you old enough to have an idea of what was going on politically, and was there celebration in the air?

Papa Wemba

I was. I’d just turned 10-years old and I know that, on that day, I’d come back from the football stadium. We’d just been to see a match between two big Kinshasa clubs and just as we left, near where I lived with my parents, there was a political meeting. I went there with my brother - we went to this meeting - and the person speaking kept on saying, “Independence, independence, independence in Lingala,” and everyone who was there kept on clapping and clapping and clapping for independence, over and over again. It was the 1st of January 1959 and on the 4th of January, there was this huge uprising. Everyone left his or her homes so that the white man could live, and there was a riot. Basically, people started killing each other all over the place - and I witnessed this. Even though I was only 10-years old, I still remember this. I witnessed this myself. And independence wasn’t as easy as all that. It [was only] after a lot of political discussion that the Belgians accepted that the country should be independent.

Nick Dwyer

I mean, it’s interesting, you know. And I think the track we just heard is quite telling. When you’re talking about the evolution of Congolese music during the time, you can’t help but talk about the political situation because politics and music were very intertwined. And you know… this is the Red Bull Music Academy, not the Red Bull Political History Academy, so we'll keep it kind of brief.

You know [that in] this period - where you were in your teenage years, just before Zaiko dropped - Congo was in a state of chaos. There was a very, very brief leader, Patrice Lumumba (who you know for full reasons, for, and I’ll leave it with you as to what happened to Patrice Lumumba), but then a man named Mobutu took power and I guess, for the next three decades, the image of Congo, which was now named Zaire, was one that was led by this man Mobutu. Just very briefly, can you remember this moment when Mobutu took power? And did the Congolese welcome it at the time?

Papa Wemba

Well, I'm going to ask [the] permission [of] all the participants who are here - because I’ve really come here to speak [not] about politics but about the art that I know, that’s to say music - but politics... that’s something that limits and holds all of us. And we’re all politicians in our way, because politics catches up with all of us and the politics of your country catches up with you. I’m from an African country, so it’s my duty to carry [and] it’s my duty to vote. It’s the duty of every citizen.

It’s true that we were all happy to be independent. Everyone was happy. It was the whole of black Africa that wanted to become independent. Whether we remember Lumumba, whether we remember Kumba, we’re even going to remember in the previous century - Mandela, obviously, everyone knows about. It’s just for the black man to be free in his movement and free to do what he wants to do, and also [to be] equal to the white man. And all of that’s a struggle that carried on despite us: because our blood is all the same colour, and we only have one creator; Godly father, whether we want that or not. It’s true.

So, humanity, we must all come together as one. And now, with our arms folded, we’re witnessing everything that’s happening in the world today because of that separation. If we were all together I don't think all this would happen, because God put within us one thing: like your brother, love your brother, as you love yourself. And even as God did this he knew that it was difficult, so we were delighted with [and] very happy to be independent. That’s why there were all those political movements. But you know, despite us, we still suffer. We still have to put up with this, but life goes on.

Nick Dwyer

I'll tell you what: for the technical team, we’re going to jump over the first video and I’d like to play everybody the second video that we've got lined up. This is a video of Zaiko Langa Langa performing on a TV show. As you mentioned, you were a very young man [when] you launched this band Zaiko Langa Langa, which I think [that for] anyone in this room who is Congolese or knows anything about Francophone African music, Zaiko Langa Langa is the one name that everybody knows. It began in 1969. Let’s watch video two first, and then we’ll chat about Zaiko Langa Langa.

Papa Wemba

Well, my daughter, who is in the room today, wasn’t born when I started. She wasn’t even born, so she’s going to discover this with you.

Nick Dwyer

All right. Here is the second video.

(video: Papa Wemba with Zaiko Langa Langa)

Oh man, what an incredible video, Papa Wemba, you look very, very, very, very, very young.

Papa Wemba

Thank you. Yes, that’s for sure.

Nick Dwyer

When you watch that video, what does it take you back to?

Papa Wemba

Well, old memories. Old memories – that’s it.

Nick Dwyer

Tell us about Zaiko Langa Langa. You know [that] we had kind of talked through this era when there were these old kind of very, very established artists, and then Zaiko Langa Langa came on the scene [in 1969]. It was like this new breed had come through. These young Congolese men - or boys, I should say - who were really about to take Congolese music to all new places. Tell us about Zaiko Langa Langa.

Papa Wemba

Well, actually, we brought a lot of things [to Congolese music] when we turned up on the scene. We thought we were The Beatles. It was a kind of revolution like that: we brought styles of dance, a new type of animation. Because music from elsewhere had invaded the town of Kinshasa in the early ‘70s, that was a time [of] big black American singers like James Brown and Otis Redding (and lots more besides), and in Europe there were bands like The Beatles [and] The Rolling Stones, Johnny Halliday for France, and so many more. [Those were] really the influences for that time and we really thought we were the Beatles - even our fans [did] as well. They thought of us like that, too, so we were really successful at the time.

Nick Dwyer

So what was it like being 20-years old and being the Congolese equivalent of Paul McCartney?

Papa Wemba

Well, it’s true. We were a bit crazy. In our heads, we actually wanted to measure up to them. That’s what we wanted. And there was also the influence of Cuban music, too. Bands like the Fania All Stars, and artists like Johnny Pacheco, Ray Barretto and Celia Cruz. Artists like that. And it really was the time: there was this effervescence, [with] all these young people making Congolese Rumba.

Nick Dwyer

When did the word “soukous” [appear]? You first started to hear the word soukous in reference to the music that you guys were making, and Congolese music and dance at the time?

Papa Wemba

Well, we never called our music soukous. We never called it like that. It’s something that was made or sounds abroad. Soukous is a dance where two dancers move apart from each other, and take part in a kind of battle [that they] try to win. And it’s true: when we came here in the ’80s, in France, we started to hear people talk about soukous musical genre. But otherwise, at home, when you mentioned soukous, soukous is a dance. It’s dancing, and that’s it.

Nick Dwyer

One of the things that underpins all Congolese music, this kind of new, vibrant music that was coming out of Congo, that bands like Zaiko Langa Langa were creating, is this thing known as the Seben. Basically, for those that just watched that video, we have a track that starts with a slower Congolese Rumba (which a love song, or what have you), and then all of a sudden there’s always a point in the track when it hits the Seben. We get these guitar phrases that start repeating over and over and over, and it kind of moves into this up-tempo part. Tell us about the importance of the Seben.

Papa Wemba

Well, I mentioned the Kumba (“belly button”) earlier, and Rumba is “the belly button dance.” Congolese Rumba is divided into several sections: the introduction, the verse, chorus and then Seben. The Seben comes from “seven” in French, and that rhythm is “seven seven,” but instead of saying “seven” we called it “seben”: that’s when the two dancers come apart and try to win a dance battle, and that's [also] when the solo guitarist is trying to get noticed; to show off in the track, because in this section (at the end, [and] all through the track) they only accompany the singers with small riffs. During the Seben, we give the guitarists enough time to express themselves. But it’s funny. It’s only in Congolese Rumba that you have this thing. I’ve never heard it [being] anywhere else and I’ve never seen it anywhere [else].

Nick Dwyer

All right. Well, this is a track that has a great Seben, if I’m allowed to say. I’m not going to try the pronunciation. I’ll get you to pronounce it for me.

Papa Wemba

Yes.

(music: Zaiko Langa Langa – “Ndonge” / applause)

Nick Dwyer

Zaiko Langa Langa there, with a track called “Ndonge.” Something else that you mentioned, Papa Wemba, and [that] we saw it in the video: you know this moment when the Seben hits, and then all of a sudden we see some of the most incredible dance moves we’ve ever seen? A lot of the different bands at the time were coming with their own different moves. You know [that], as legend would have it, Pepe Kallé or Kanda Bong (depending on who you talk to) brought the Kwassa Kwassa. I remember reading that when the moon landing happened there was a dance that swept Congolese dance halls called the Apollo. There was even a dance about going bald. Tell us about dancing [and] the importance of bringing a new dance to what you guys did?

Papa Wemba

Actually, in my country, I’d say that when a baby is born the whole village comes and sings and dances for the baby. Throughout one’s life, there are lots of causes for celebration, and dance and music are always part of that. Also, when you die, music and dance comes back one more time to accompany you to your final home - so that it’s secure. I mentioned the 450 ethnic groups: each ethnic group has a musical varra and a dance, so dance is incredibly diverse as well and is something that could never be emptied. You can go from North to South, from East to West - and even in the center - and there are infinite dances. Each group, when they turn up with a new repertoire, they create a new dance. They always have to have a new dance. Otherwise, you’re not going to get noticed. That’s where the importance of dance is in Congolese Rumba up until now. It’s even like that today.

Nick Dwyer

Papa Wemba, what was your favourite dance from this era?

Papa Wemba

Well, there were so many of them. I created the Moku Nyon Nyon, the Kabasha, and lots of others as well.

Nick Dwyer

Could you potentially - if it’s not too much to ask - give us a very quick demonstration? I'll play some music.

[dances]

Papa Wemba

Oh, wow. Just yesterday, when I was a young man, I danced a hell of a lot - but today? Well, as time goes by I still try to dance, but it’s not what it was.

Nick Dwyer

Can you give us a bit of an idea of what the experience was like in the early ’70s, inside these clubs that you guys were playing at? How long would you guys play for each night? I get the idea that sometimes the Seben would just get drawn out for minutes, and half-hours, until it was just so hypnotic that dancers would get dizzy and fall over. It was a vibrant time inside nightclubs. Can you paint us a picture of the live shows that you were doing?

Papa Wemba

Well, in the early ‘70s, when we started out with friends, we were still very young and our parents didn't want us to go out very late at night. When we started to making our records, we started at 2 PM and we'd continue [making records] until 6 PM because we had to be home by 8 PM. Our elders would stay behind because they were all grown up, so each group also had their way of playing the Seben. A track could last for 20 minute or maybe half an hour. It depends on the group of musicians. It varies from one group to the next.

Nick Dwyer

I think it’s fair to say, as I mentioned in the introduction, that out of all African music, the nation that’s had the biggest musical impact across all of Africa by far is Congo - and in particular the guitar playing. That very Congolese style of guitar playing [has] had such an incredible influence. Before we move on, as we’re running through this history of Congolese music, we have to mention a guy called Franco, who many would say was the greatest guitar player that Africa has ever known. Tell us quickly about Franco, and your experiences [of] witnessing him play guitar?

Papa Wemba

I’ve always repeated that Congolese music is the mother of African music, and has influenced lots of other African countries. Even now, when you listen to music from countries like Nigeria, you can find the sounds from Congolese Rumba, and Franco was one of the rare singers and guitarists who really had helped shape that popular guitar sound. He was incredibly successful. In fact, he is the godfather, the very icon, of Congolese Rumba. This year, in my capital city, we actually built a huge monument to the glory of Franco.

Nick Dwyer

Technical team, we’ll go back to video one right now, because it would be great to show everyone this video of Franco playing live. The one thing [that] I just wanted to add to that is this whole thing of the Seben - this very Congolese thing of taking these phrases and repeating them over and over and over again – it’s almost like a trance thing. You know, you go into a trance. There are modern day Congolese artists like Konono Number 1 who have a similar thing. There’s this element of a hypnotic, trance-like thing in Congolese music. Is that something that’s deep-rooted, do you think?

Papa Wemba

Well, you could put it like that. You don’t necessarily have to [though] because my experience [of it] was like what I would say to my friends: it was too loud for me. Just recently, I was singing a song that I had written for my parents that I lost at a very young age. Each time I think of my parents I feel regret, and I wrote this song where I sing about my parents - my father, my mother - and when I interpreted this song on stage… I don’t know. I guess it’s personal, but I got the impression that my feet weren’t on the ground any more. It was as if I was floating in the air - and that’s a form of trance as well. It’s falling into a trance. It’s something [that] you can’t really explain. I don’t know how to define all that: to help you understand, and convince you that you can also fall into that trance in different ways. It’s not easy to explain.

Nick Dwyer

So we’ll go to this video right now. This is a video of the most legendary guitar player from Congo, Franco.

(video: Franco)

Nick Dwyer

Can you remember the first time you saw Franco live? At the same time, you can see he’s really having fun playing like that. It’s visible.

Papa Wemba

Yes. I was still a young kid [when] he started his career in the ’50s. The first time I saw him it wasn’t just him playing live. We actually already knew him because his wife was a local girl, and when he came to port with her, we (the local kids) would go and have a look. Just to see how he was. We went up to see him - to talk to him, to shake hands with him - but our parents didn't let us go to concerts at the time because we were really young. As I grew up, I became a musician and worked alongside him. He really helped me. He helped me a great deal. If I was just to mention my own family today: these men adopted my first daughter.

At the time, he had a lot of money. He was very wealthy and his whole family resided in Europe, and he actually took my daughter into his family in Europe for several years. I’m very grateful to him for that and, even posthumously, I would like to say “Thank you” [to him] because it’s thanks to him that my daughter has managed to make a life for herself here in France. These are things [that] I have to say. He was almost like family to me, and someone who was very well respected. I think it was just two weeks ago that this monument was inaugurated in Kinshasa: by the government, on Place des Artistes, in his honour.

Nick Dwyer

So in the early ’70s, you know that Mobutu was very much in power and wanted to bring in this ideology called “authenticity.” For many reasons, [authenticity] had positive and negative effects, but there were actually a lot of positive effects that came from authenticity. What was authenticity, Papa Wemba?

Papa Wemba

Well, it was very good. For me, it was a good thing. [Mobutu] wanted his people to be identifiable, so we rejected Western forms of dress. For example, I couldn’t wear a suit and all of that. You had to dress as he would have liked you to dress. I think it [happened] after he travelled to China. He went to meet Chairman Mao at the time, and when he came back he promoted this ideology and set up this system of going back to authenticity: to be conscious of the fact that we were a people who had their own culture and way of seeing things; different to that of the white man. And that was welcomed because, even abroad, people would point at us when we were wearing a Western suit.

If you were wearing an Abakost suit people knew that you were from Zaire, and to me that was, “Well done Mobutu,” because he pushed us forward on a worldwide stage and gave us our own pride. It’s thanks to [authenticity] that musicians and artists became inspired from these 450 ethnic groups that I mentioned earlier, and that’s what made the very strength of our culture and our music - thanks to Mobutu, and obviously the artists themselves.

Nick Dwyer

Something that happened around this time as well, which you mentioned with the Abakost suits, you were mentioning - what you know when people saw you guys wearing it?

Papa Wemba

I’m wearing an Abakost suit today!

Nick Dwyer

People would identify you as coming from Zaire (because obviously the country was now called Zaire), but there was an event that happened, though, that Mobutu put on, and all of a sudden the whole world knew about Zaire and what was going on [there]. Obviously, it’s the thing that we read in history books, and we read Internet column inches and see movies about it, but for us it’s just something that we can’t get our heads around. It just seems like the most incredible thing.

Mobutu staged a boxing event between Mohamed Ali and George Foreman in 1974 called “The Rumble in the Jungle” and, leading up to that, a music festival called Zaire ’74. He brought James Brown, Bill Withers and BB King to perform alongside all of the biggest Congolese stars at the time - and you guys, Zaiko Langa Langa, performed. Just give us an idea of the feeling and vibe in Kinshasa and Congo, building up to “The Rumble in the Jungle” at Zaire ’74.

Papa Wemba

Kinshasa had reaching boiling point. They had welcomed thousands of people from all over the world, especially the United States, and Kinshasa had set up everything so that everything would take place in the best possible conditions. For three days, there was this music festival in the football stadium. It was full to the brim. There were 120,000 seats, but there were more than 200,000 people who came just to attend the festival and it was, for me, the very first time that I shook hands with the great Afro Cuban singer, Johnny Pacheco.

There were other singers as well, like BB King. I saw them come to play in Kinshasa and that was thanks to Mobutu's cultural policy. He also wanted to put his country in a new light, which is understandable, too. And us, Zaiko Langa Langa, we were still very young in ’74. We actually opened the festival. We were the first to play, but they didn’t let us play very long. Maybe just for 45 minutes. And there was Franco, and Tabalay played as well - just those three Congolese combos - and then there were foreign bands on after that.

Nick Dwyer

We’re going to watch a video right now. This is video number three: a little something taken from Zaire ’74, just to give people an idea [of the event]. One of the interesting things is that, if anyone has seen the documentary “Sole Power,” an incredible camera crew from United States went there and filmed the whole thing just so incredibly. They filmed all of the Congolese artists as well, but sadly no one has edited yet. They’ve been talking about it for years – still, to this day - but maybe one day they will put together a documentary of the Congolese artists. But – here’s a little excerpt from Zaire ’74.

(video: James Brown – “The Payback” live at Zaire ’74)

Papa Wemba

I was there. My neighborhood is just behind the stadium. On foot, it took me 15 minutes to get there. That was really late at the night, [around] 1 or 2 AM, and I had to be there.

Nick Dwyer

Just how influential was it? I mean, from what I'm told, that wasn’t the first time James Brown had performed in Zaire, but obviously it was the first time he performed in such a grandiose fashion. How influential was it for local Congolese artists to see James Brown - if at all?

Papa Wemba

Well, that wasn’t the first time. That was the third time (I think) that he had come to play in Kinshasa. Lots of different artists played in that stadium and lots of music fans from Kinshasa wanted to meet James Brown - and we also wanted to. Everyone wanted to shake his hand as well. Everyone wanted to speak to him. Everyone wanted to take a picture with him. It was the same thing with James Brown. He came to Kinshasa three times, and we were happy because we listened to him. We knew about him already.

Nick Dwyer

Was there an incredible sense of pride after Zaire ’74 and did it instil - I don’t know - even more of a fire in Congolese musicians? Like, “Yes, we’re doing something.” You know that the world is watching, and that your music is now on a global stage.

Papa Wemba

Well, it was very welcome for us. We were very, very proud - really very proud - that Kinshasa welcomed so many people to such a huge festival, because they had brought equipment with them. When you listened to the crowd, it’s completely different to the sound of my old recordings at the time - completely different. So we were very, very proud. And today, if we become what we are today, it’s thanks to all those influences, too. The Congolese artists and musicians wanted to move forward, and this actually gave us the strength and the will to do so.

Nick Dwyer

One thing it gave you the strength to do, Papa Wemba, was to quit your band one month after Zaire ’74 and decide to go solo. Why - at the height of Zaiko Langa Langa, one month after you performed at Zaire ’74 - did you decide to quit and pursue a solo career?

Papa Wemba

Well, it’s true that when you live with friends there will be small worries – problems between friends - and then suddenly, like that, I thought; “I’ve got to do things by myself.” I'd wanted to do that for a long time, and this solo career was welcomed [by others] because I was very lucky. I was lucky enough to travel all over the world and lucky enough to become what I’ve become today, thanks to my solo career. I really do thank God for giving me this calling to follow - and I thank myself too. I didn’t just stay there and do nothing. I’ve worked on going back to Kinshasa. Tonight I’m going on a tour that’s going to last for (I think) 21 days, in three different countries. I’m 66-years old and I still work as I did yesterday - and I still love it.

Nick Dwyer

I think the incredible thing with you, Papa Wemba, is that we could sit here and have this conversation for like three days straight and still be entertained, but unfortunately I’ve got to keep it to a couple of hours. So, moving ahead in time a little bit. You quit Zaiko Langa Langa, you established a group called Isifi Lokole, and had some great success with that and some other projects, but the really big next chapter in the history of Papa Wemba was the forming of Viva la Musica.

I think we’re going to watch a video right now. This is video number four, which is of Viva la Musica on a TV show in Congo, at some point in the ’70s. It’s a really, really beautiful video, for a number of reasons, and you’ll see why. We’re going to watch it for a bit, because as the video progresses some really magic stuff happens, so here we go.

(video: Viva la Musica (live) / applause)

Nick Dwyer

So amazing to see that dance, by the way. What was the name of that dance?

Papa Wemba

That was the Moku Nyon Nyon that I gave you a demonstration of just now.

Nick Dwyer

Good to see it in action. There are a couple of amazing observations in watching that video. One of the reasons why I wanted to play it [was that] I think that video was filmed in around ’76-’77, but to give people an idea: you were at this point you were the biggest star in Congolese music, and especially with young people. As we saw in that video, you've just got the young people of Congo – of Kinshasa, I’m assuming that's where that was filmed – mobbing you mid-performance. Tell us about this time? What do you think it was about your music that you made particularly resonate with young people of Congo?

Papa Wemba

When I started my solo career, I split up with my friend from Zaiko Langa Langa and I decided to strike out on my own. I made a lot of young people dream because I brought them hope in their life. I said, “Well, the sun that shines doesn’t just shine for some people. It shines for everybody. That is the luck that we have that God gave us, and we must seize that chance.” And as I wanted to break out of the ordinary, I brought lots of things [to my music].

I made young people dream about the way that they would hold themselves, that they would dress, the way they would be elegant. By that I mean [to] have the right hairstyle, be clean-shaven and smell nice, because you mustn’t smell bad or have bad smells within you. It’s all of these things that made the youth accept me, and lots of them actually followed that example. That’s what made me someone who was a bit different from the rest. And it’s through that - maybe my teachings, if I can say that - that I became what I am.

Nick Dwyer

Well, look. I think you know you’re getting us to a point in your career which we'll go into quite a bit very soon, because it’s incredibly interesting, but before we move into that I just want to ask quickly about Molokai. You started what was, I guess, a community - like a village within a building - called Molokai. I’m assuming maybe it’s something similar to what Fela Kuti did in Lagos, with the Kalakuta Republic?

Papa Wemba

That’s good what you said: you mentioned Fela Kuti. At one time, there was a big festival in Lagos and we asked a great Congolese singer, Tabalay, to form a band. Unfortunately, I wasn’t included in that band. I wasn’t recruited. There was a friend of mine who was part of that delegation and went to the festival in Lagos, Nigeria, and when she came back she talked to me about Fela Kuti. She talked to me about him by saying, “We met this singer - this Nigerian singer over there - who really is extraordinary, doesn’t want to follow the policy in his country, and has actually created a republic within the republic - the republic of Kalakut.”

When Mobutu asked us, he promoted authenticity. That’s when those ideas came back to me. In the late ’50s, in the town of Kinshasa, there was a single cinema and there was this priest who would walk around with a screen, from neighborhood to neighborhood, to show open-air film screenings. He came to my neighbourhood and he showed a film that took place on the island of Molokai. The star was a Jesuit priest, Father Damien, and his mission was to heal people who had leprosy. After the projection of this film, the elders in my neighbourhood called our neighbourhood Molokai.

Looking back on those years, I said, “Hey - in the late ’50s, the neighborhood elders called it Molokai, so why wouldn’t I? Why can’t I use this name?” I wanted to call it The Republic of Molokai. I thought, “Maybe I'm going to have a few worries with the politicians in my country, but I’m going to try and stay in keeping with Mobutu’s authenticity.” I called my village Molokai and it brought me good luck. It’s quite tricky. It’s quite hard to understand. If you haven’t experienced this, it’s very difficult to help you understand what I’m saying.

Nick Dwyer

What sort of things happened at Molokai? What kind of people found themselves there? I understand that you, as we saw in that video, had a massive following with the youth. The youth of Congo were most certainly on your side, and I believe that a lot of young people who didn’t have parents found their way into Molokai? Tell us a little bit about what kind of activities would happen in Molokai?

Papa Wemba

Actually, Molokai is my family land. This is where I grew up with my parents and this is where my parents died. I stayed there as the only master on board the ship - of this tract of land called Molokai village - and I’m going to tell you some stories that may be difficult to understand. This Molokai village is a modern village in the heart of a huge working class neighbourhood of Kinshasa, which is the capital of the Democratic Republic of Congo.

In that village, in that neighbourhood, there was lots of tourists who actually came just to the village and to the tribal chief of Molokai village – me. I would receive tourists from Japan, Europe, and other African countries. The Molokai village was replicated in several towns. There’s a nightclub called Molokai in Washington and Tokyo, and there's a group of musicians called Molokai. In Libreville, the capital of Gabon, there’s also a place called Molokai village, and that’s down to me, basically. Us African say, “Big man is not the small one.” So I’m a big one I guess.

Nick Dwyer

Okay, so something that you brought up before, in reference to the young people of Congo being on your side. You know the things that you instilled in them - having pride in your appearance, the art of dressing well, making sure you’re well groomed, that you smell good, that you have good clean underwear on, all of these things - you managed to turn into a cultural art form and which then turned into a cultural movement.

As I said in the introduction, I’m sure that a few people in this room are familiar with La Sape. About five or six years ago, there was an Italian photographer (Daniel somebody, I forget his name. Sorry Daniel, if you ever watch this) who went to Brazzaville and took a whole lot of photos. There have been other photographers that went to Kinshasa - there was even a Guinness ad [filmed there] – but we’ve managed to see La Sape on the Internet. It’s got historical roots, but what we know now as La Sape and the Sapeur was that it was actually founded by this man - Papa Wemba. We have some images that we’ll put up on the screen just to give people an idea, but while you look at those images: Papa Wemba, how did La Sape come about and what does it stand for?

Papa Wemba

At home on Sundays - every Sunday, in each Christian family - we would dress up and try to look as elegant as possible. Father and mother might wear traditional African clothing to go to church, and the children would put on their best clothes. Towards the ’70s, when we started our musical career, there was a group of youth from Brazzaville who came to take part in clothing battles in Kinshasa. They would dress as well as possible, and we repeated that when we came to Paris in 1980 (quite near where we are now, actually, at Bonne Nouvelle Metro station). There was a nightclub called REX, which still exists, and that’s where it all started.

That’s where it all began with the La Sape duels between people from Kinshasa and Brazzaville. These Congolese are from Brazzaville. This is the way they dress. And these ones are from Kinshasa. They liked a more relaxed style of clothing and we used to be criticized for this. Our parents didn't like it, but today, everyone says that they’re “Sapeur” in their own way. It spreads all over the place, and that’s it.

Nick Dwyer

So, Papa Wemba: you created an ideology almost with La Sape in the late ’70s. It’s a whole ideology. You had a religion. Tell us about Kitende.

Papa Wemba

I’m not the creator of it, but I'm the person who took part in the launching of this ideology. I really can’t say that I’m the person who invented this. My colleague helped me at the time. There was “Black Big Mac,” the film that was successful in France that features La Sape. That really helped to promote it, too. I really do regret that Bisou is dead now. He was a great French journalist. He also did a lot for La Sape here in Paris.

Nick Dwyer

What was Kitende?

Papa Wemba

“Kitende” means “cloth.” “Kitende, in Kikongo. It’s a language, which is from my homeland, too. So basically, “cloth.”

Nick Dwyer

And is it true that back then there was a hymn that you would sing that would, depending on who was the fashion house at the time, was the choice of the sapeur?

Papa Wemba

Yes, of course. It was our way of showing off what we had and what we were wearing. It’s true that when we came here to Europe - especially to Belgium, but also France - we understood that great fashion houses existed and that there were people like Valentino, Francesco Smalto, and Jean Franco Ferrer. What we liked even more were Japanese designers and French designers as well. Italian, too, but British, not so much.

Nick Dwyer

Can you remember how the hymn went?

Papa Wemba

The thing is - it wasn’t just about the clothing. Obviously the clothing was a very big part of it, but there were 10 commandments as well. You had your own 10 commandments. One of them was like, “Eight different ways of how a sapeur must walk,” but all of that was part of a whole movement. You had to know how to walk and you had to have the right deportment. You had to dress properly. You have to behave properly. This whole ideology came through me, and the Molokai village. I was enormously lucky. That’s why, in Africa, we say, “A great man is not a small one.”

Nick Dwyer

You talked a bit before about this moment when you first came to Paris. Considering the history and the relationship between the Republic of Congo, the Democratic Republic of Congo, then Zaire, and France and Belgium: there’s so much of your culture, so much around you, and the language that you speak is French. You finally made it to Paris in 1977, I believe. What was that experience like - finally getting on a plane and landing in Paris?

Papa Wemba

Oh my God. It’s true that taking the plane was not accessible to everyone at the time, and when I arrived for the first time in Brussels - because that’s the first town that we landed in, that I visited - all I can say is that I was very angry. I thought, “How can a country like this and a town like this, which is so beautiful, have light everywhere?” There’s no light in Kinshasa. I knew that things weren’t as simple as that but coming to Paris, it was “The City of Light” at the time. There are other great towns, obviously - Tokyo, LA, there are so many towns from around the world that had become amazing - but originally everyone wanted to go to Paris. Everyone wanted to visit Paris. And there was a saying, “See Paris, and die.”

Nick Dwyer

It obviously influenced you a lot to the point where you started spending more and more time in Paris. As the ’80s were coming along, things back home are a little bit more politically chaotic. Can you give us an idea of what was happening in Zaire at the time, and what were your decisions behind spending more time in France?

Papa Wemba

Well, actually, it wasn’t a question of politics for me. I want to tell you the story of my wife. We had decided the two of us to raise our children in France so that our children could have a French education - and that’s what we did. We left our country in the mid ’80s. In ’86, we decided to come and settle here. My daughter, who is in the room, was born 10-15 years after the day we actually came to France. It wasn’t so much a political question. I'm going to show you my passport. I've always got my Congolese passport with me. I’m proud to be Congolese and I will stay Congolese until the day I die.

I came to settle here because I wanted to go further in my career, I wanted to raise my children in another way, and also God had given me enough means to come and live here in France. Also, I’d like to thank France, because France also allowed me to explore the whole world. France allowed me to go all over the place. For my life experience, I really would like to thank France. I don’t want to get into too much detail, but it’s a country that has helped me a great deal.

Nick Dwyer

I think that leads perfectly to the next video. This is video number 5, technical team. You talked about moving to Paris, which obviously gave you a gateway to the world. There aren’t regular flights going from Kinshasa to LA, Kinshasa to Tokyo - Kinshasa to anywhere - so being in Paris gave you the opportunity to take the music of Congo to the world. It must have been a really, really exciting time.

In the mid ’80s, thanks to you (although it must be noted that Zaiko Langa Langa kept going, and I think they’re still going now) there was this great moment when Congolese music was being received really well throughout the world. This video we’re going to watch right now is of Papa Wemba [playing] live in Tokyo, in ‘86. Can you remember the first time you went to Tokyo? You mentioned before that there’s a poor side of Papa Wemba. You know Comme de Garcons: these big Japanese fashion houses were your favourites. Was it a wild experience going to Japan for the first time?

Papa Wemba

Yes, absolutely. I didn’t go by myself. I brought my wife and one of my children with me - her big sister, because she wasn’t born yet - and I think the flight was 12 hours long. That was incredible. We’d never done that before. My wife was exhausted - and me, too – and what with the jet lag, we weren’t actually tired anymore when he arrived at nightfall because of the time difference.

It’s true that when you travel you discover lots of things that you’ve never seen before, and I discovered all these things with Japanese people who really stay loyal to me. They stayed with me because I stayed to work with them for several years, and I was also lucky enough to go on tour in Japan. That lasted for three months. I was with them in Japan for three months. It was part of my job, but I was also lucky to do that before everyone else.

Nick Dwyer

All right, let’s watch this video. This is Papa Wemba live in Tokyo, ’86.

(video: Viva La Musica live in Tokyo, 1986 / applause)

Nick Dwyer

Did you ever think in those early moments in your career - in the ’60s, when you started Zaiko Langa Langa, when you grow up in a city like Kinshasa and had this big idea of yourselves as The Beatles - is it very difficult for a musician in Kinshasa to imagine him in a few decades time? Playing soukous in Japan, and taking Congolese music to the world?

Papa Wemba

Well, you can’t count your chickens before they hatch. It’s so difficult, and life is built like that. There are highs and lows, ups and downs, but I was so determined and I trusted myself. I knew that I was going to take that music very far. With my voice, my songs, and my music, I had this feeling within me. I was talking about my 66th birthday. I’m still upright. I still get up on stage. I can still stay like that for two or three hours and I don't feel tired afterwards. It’s because I love what I do.

Nick Dwyer

One thing that happened throughout the ’80s for your music is that you definitely made a conscious effort to produce two kinds of music. There were two sides to what you did: music for African listeners, and music for European listeners. I’d like you know just talk us through this: very much making a determined effort to take soukous to Europe, and the world, but somehow in a way that was a little bit easier for them to digest?

Papa Wemba

Actually, when I first started singing, before I was successful, I would spend time with friends because my father wasn’t rich enough to buy me vinyl records. I would go to my friend’s house to listen to songs that came from abroad. That’s when I began to take all this information in. Once I had my career I had this bag full of information, musically speaking, I began to take some things out of that bag and decided to set up shop in France.

I met Martin Meissonier and when he saw my band, Viva la Musica, he said (looking at me right in the eyes), “What you do is good, but it won’t work here. Please let me create a group for you with other African musicians who are going to make another style of music, but you keep your old group as well.” That’s when I started to play differently, and with two different groups: my Congolese Rumba group, and this other group called the Molokai Group. At the time, I knew that Martin Meissonier set up world music here in France. Everything started with this man. He is actually the man who encouraged me to play in another style.

Nick Dwyer

We’ll just listen to a track – quickly, right now. This is a track called “Mandola” which was released by Real World - which is, if anyone knows, was Peter Gabriel's label that promotes world music throughout the ‘90s. How did you meet Peter Gabriel? We’ll play this track first. We’ll talk about that after this. This is Papa Wemba with “Mandola.”

(music: Papa Wemba - “Mandola” / applause)

Nick Dwyer

Tell us a bit about that track. At this stage, you found yourself in a position of [achieving] that dream you had always wanted. You were signed to Peter Gabriel’s Real World, which was the label that really was taking world music to the world. How did the meeting come about with Peter Gabriel?

Papa Wemba

Well, Peter Gabriel had heard of me before and he was looking for voices from around the world. I wasn’t the only person. There were also singers like Yousou Ndour, other African singers, and also European singers who were on his label Real World, and the Worldwide Festival took us just about everywhere. I was part of the staple of festival singers. When he did his world tour he called me and, several months [later], we went all around the United States together with him - and also Europe. [We toured] the whole of Europe with him, and that’s where it happened. I didn’t contact Peter Gabriel. He came to me. He heard of the singer that I was and he really wanted me to work with him. And we’re still in touch. We still get on.

Nick Dwyer

Going back to what you were saying before, Papa Wemba, about how you were very, very determined at this point in time to take your music to the world. I just wanted to ask the question: because I think that a lot of the producers in this room will want to know how to take their music into different directions as their profile builds; to develop a core audience, too, and since you have a very big core audience back in Congo. How did the Congolese people react to your new directions and, I guess the proper question was, how do you go in your new directions and still keep your loyal fan base happy?

Papa Wemba

Well, everyone loves a singer. Musical genres are all good and well, but it’s the singer that’s the focus. Everyone knew what my musical standpoint was. Everyone knew that I didn't just look at what was right in front of me. In my country, I already diversified my repertoire. I would go from one style to another. I wasn’t just limited to Rumba, because I am also a singer who knows how to interpret. I was taught to interpret. I was taught that I had to know how to sing other people’s music. You start off by interpreting very faithfully, and then you can go wherever you like. So my fans like me as I am, with those different styles of music, so it’s not a problem for me and it’s not a problem for them either. That’s my strength, I think.

Nick Dwyer

In terms of talking about your career, you know there was an incident a few years later that occurred - in 2003, which I think some people that live in the French-speaking world would know about – and off the back of that you discovered some new faith and it took your music in a new direction. Can you tell us about this experience?

Papa Wemba

Well, as an African I interpret things in my way because when God wants to do God’s work, he works with the people he has chosen. That’s how I feel things. That’s how I understand what happened. I was alone in my prison cell and I was visited. Seriously. I was genuinely visited by a being - a foreign being. It’s the sensation that I had, that’s what I believe happened, and when I came out of where I was I said to myself, “The first house I will enter will be his home.” So I went to a church to thank God for helping me out and allowing me to leave the place I was in. But I was brought up in a Christian Catholic household, and I believe in God and the Catholic faith.

Nick Dwyer

In terms of that experience shaping you and you finding yourself walking down this new path, how did that effect the way that you looked at La Sape, for example? Because you were still very much one of the spiritual leaders - and walking down a new path that was viewed as a somewhat materialistic life - were these two new ideas, these new two philosophies, in conflict for you?

Papa Wemba

Actually, no one really took on this new standpoint. I didn’t give anything up. I had nothing to give up. When you believe in God, you don’t just do things halfway. You go all the way with him. But I didn’t give up La Sape. That has nothing to do with it. I didn’t give up songs that I wrote for a woman, or songs that I wrote when I was sad. I’m not going to change my whole songbook and just sing hymns to the glory of God because God is permanent. He’s everywhere. I never made a pact with Satan or anything like that. I mean, Satan didn’t exist to me before and Satan has never been on my side, so people didn’t really understand where I was coming from when I said, “Well, I’m going to start off singing for God, but I wasn’t singing for the devil before.”

Nick Dwyer

Right. I think we’ve got for a few more and then we’ll throw it over to everyone for questions, but I think this kind of brings us to a modern day point. We’ll play this last video. This is video number six, which is a live performance from Papa Wemba from more recent times.

(video: Papa Wemba live)

Nick Dwyer

Papa Wemba, that’s one amazing coat.

Papa Wemba

It was loaned to me. I borrowed it for that stage. It was Francesco Smalto who lent it to me.

Nick Dwyer

Okay, I’m going to throw it over to these guys very, very soon, but I guess one of the last questions that I’ve got for you is this. Particularly when you think about the Congo - and I kind of touched on this, but the history books will tell you that the Congo has suffered a very harsh colonial rule at the hands of the Belgians - it was a very unhappy, awful, and tumultuous time. You know that as independence came, then political upheaval and civil wars, Congo, almost more than any other country on the face of the Earth, had it really, really hard for a long, long time. But somehow, during and through all of this, they’ve managed to produce some of the most joyous and rousing dance music the world has ever known – and that the continent of Africa has especially known. Why do you think that is?

Papa Wemba

We’re going to have to talk about politics again. I’m going to talk about Sarkozy. When he came on an official visit to the Democratic Republic of Congo, I wasn’t that interested in what he said: when he said that, “You Congolese, you have to know how to share your riches with your neighbors.” That basically meant that there was something going on. The North dominates the politics of North and South, but luckily we have our music. We are a people who love music, and being open, independent, and free.

When you come to Kinshasa, you’re going to realise what I’m saying to you here and now [is true]. Music is permanent. It’s in every single neighborhood, and it’s very loud. There are people playing music absolutely everywhere. You don’t even need tranquillity. We don’t even need our neighbours to keep quiet: even at 10 PM, midnight, 1 AM. There’s still all this incredibly loud music. That is our pride and that is our strength, because not everyone takes care of politics.

You know that there are people who take care of their other interests. The West knows why they’ve always wanted to get their hands on this country. It’s because of what’s in the ground. It’s a very rich country in terms of natural resources - an incredibly rich country - and that clouds the vision of all these people who come and lecture us and tell us what to do. I mean that’s what they’re doing, basically. They’re moralising at us, and all we do is put up with it because we have no choice. But maybe one day we'll have complete independence, and will manage to live with our riches without any foreign people trying to control us. We don’t know. I don't know.

Just this morning on TV, I saw that Sarkozy had visited Putin. All of that is politics and where does that bring us, all of that? We don’t know where the world is going. The only one thing that I do know is that the holy book, The Bible, says that until you begin to experience things you have never experienced before, it won’t be the end. But you have to be very careful. And us as Africans really do believe that - and we are very vigilant. If you as Europeans get distracted, that’s up to you.

Nick Dwyer

Okay, Papa Wemba. You’re flying out tonight. UNESCO is presenting you with an award. Can you just tell us quickly what the award is?

Papa Wemba

Tomorrow evening, I’ll be promoted to an Ambassador for Peace by UNESCO.

[applause]