Funmi Iyanda

Woke up to the news of Michael Jackson’s death and I am devasted, it almost feels personal which is of course because he not only had exceptional talent but the charisma and magnetism of a true star. I grew up to his music and spent many sad, happy or confused days of youth consoled, uplifted or ignited by his music. Its a sad loss especially in the cusp of a potentially career relighting comeback.

Even my 8 year old feels a sense of loss. However the greatest lesson for me is that what will endure and triumph is the quality of ones work done passionately, dedicatedly and professionally. That is the true legacy, his wonderful catalogue of music and the power of that to move billions across boundaries of colour, geography, age and orientation. He was the "baddest", the best.

Back in Naija and loving it. My relieved and delighted shrimp, the okra soup with eba and fresh fish, the noise of the generator, the smells, texture and tone of home.

Talking about being back in Naija, the Man Magnet drew my attention to the facebook face-off between Abati and Generation Next over the interpretations of the socio-cultural shift that a new generation is championing, especially as expressed with 9ja hip-hop.

Now my first reaction was abeg leave them alone, but the more I read, the more compelled I felt to comment.

To start with, one of my core Aspen conversations was on the role of new media in a new world order and like all else, I was fascinated by the role of twitter in the Iranian protests. The thing that struck me in Aspen was not just the real attempt at understanding new media but the very psyche of the generation that powers it.

Unfortunately, as it seems to happen with many things, Nigeria is not having an honest, informed conversation about the post-IBB communication convergence and liberalization generation and her unique social and economic construct.

Dr Abati’s article is a typical knee jerk reaction by a generation that takes the seismic shift that is occurring amongst the Nigeria youth too literarily and dare I say, feels a little left out.

I can understand the young people’s frustration with Dr Abati as too often, no one has taken stock of how the dark post-second republic era and the complete breakdown of the physical, social and economic fabric of Nigeria resulted in the conditioning of the generation born and reared of those times. The seething resentment against the so called generation that did nothing, reared its head, as it is wont to at such times, whereas in fairness the generation before fared no better.  The Tiananmen Square or not argument though, must be left to another day.

Now, now doc, abbreviating the name of a country, place or person is a way of owning it. It is a term of endearment amongst the young. So the abbreviation of Nigeria into Naija or the even funkier and frankly twitter generation-friendly 9ja is not a crisis of identity, but the very first and tentative move by any Nigerian generation towards cultural confidence.

To castigate the use of pseudonyms or stage names by Naija (yes Naija) artists is frankly puzzling to me as this is an age-old productive/ creative exercise. Madonna, Sting, Anikulapo, KSA, KWAM 1. Should I go on? To the uninitiated, a stage name is a useful tool for artists to separate the self from the persona and often salvage one's sanity. Even those artists who use their given names alter it slightly, not just for commercial purposes but for creative or identity protection purposes. 9ice is called that because he is the nicest soul you can encounter plus he writes a song every 9th day. He is still Abolore to his family and can thus be Abolore at home and 9ice at work. Asa, so nicknamed by her mother because she is swift as an eagle. Ditto most of the others including the very cool Banky W and the very intelligent Naeto C.

Finally that vexatious argument about the meaning of the songs and so-called lewd, or (horror) immoral nature of the lyrics, irks me. Whilst there may be a few censor-worthy lyrics, the majority of the music is actually great and a real innovation in the way they are creating a new form of music unique to regions of Nigeria but with universal appeal. The deeper meaning of some of the lyrics, which comes from Nigeria’s peculiar street culture and realities, is actually beguiling. For example “Ori o foka sibe” is not sexual unless you want to interpret it so. It is really street talk for bringing your brain cells to the issue. Literarily you scattered your brains on that issue o.

I was educated in Ajegunle whilst filming TWF as to the origin and structure of dance forms such as Galala, Konto and Swo which are an amalgam of Yoruba, Ijaw, and Igbo dances with a touch of Ajegunle madness. These dance forms have interestingly made their way from Ajegunle to dance halls around Africa and certain parts of the world.

I can also understand and identify with the oft self-affirming words of Naija music. This is a generation that was completely disempowered, redefining and psyching herself to greatness. To begrudge them that is to be insensitive. They are also telling stories of Nigeria as she is. Note the haunting but strangely empowered telling of the Odi massacre by Timaya. We cannot wish a gentle Victorian nature on people reared of such realities. Our job is to unearth, understand and grow a better vision of self and nation.

Finally, the thing about even the innuendos and all, is that this is a generation which can laugh at herself and her own excesses. They know better than to buy it on surface value. So dancing Yahooze or Big Boy does not make you a 419ner or a glorifier of it, as dancing to Booty Call does not make you a streetwalker. This is adult music and parents are responsible for what they allow their children listen to as are broadcast regulators for what is put on the family belt. It is creative subversion that appeals to all but is clearly understood as that by a thinking, informed generation. It was irritating to read the brouhaha about Powell dancing Yahozee and thus glorifying Nigerian 419 by western media when they give awards to music, shows and films which use subversion as art form -- Pulp Fiction any one? So they can laugh at themselves and we cannot abi?

The girls who shake their backsides to Bumper to Bumper are as likely to be investment bankers or lawyers as hardworking traders. They are comfortable enough in their post-feminist skin to be sensual and smart or as someone aptly put it, “may just be that my skirt is short and my IQ is high."

If the young people begin to apply the same principles that has seen the emergence of this vibrant, evolving and eventually to be deepened music industry to other aspects of life, we will begin to head towards a new Nigeria.

The challenge of Generation Next actually is how to bring that to bear, otherwise in a decade or two, they too will be accused of being the generation that did nothing.

Now shall I retreat with the words of one of my favorite 9ice’s songs, “ohun t’o ba wun eni bodi l’o le f’enu won so. Omo o’ ran yan, omo j’o mo lo, omo mati jagbo lo, e fi won si le e’je kan ma so lo, orin yin ni o, e ma ko lo"… Remember not to take it all too literarily o. Peace.

Last week, was at Chimamanda’s book reading to coincide with her new book going on sale nationally in America. Ran into a few bloggers and Teju Cole then went to dinner with Chimamanda and her peeps including the beautiful Zadie Smith and Lola Ogunnaike of CNN

Chimamanda signs the books

The one thing that was clear to me at the end of our readings, conversations, engagements and interactions is not only that all we are all unified in the eternal quest for the definition and attainment of the good life for the largest numbers in our different parts of the world nor how similar the most common human challenges are but how inevitable it is that each must solve her own problems and that, it is the aggregation of such solutions that will evolve a better balanced world order which may preserve us.

One of the boys: Nuhu Ribadu, Maduka Emelife,Me,Nasir El Rufai And Foluso Phillips

It’s not going to be top down but bottom up, the real challenge being the evolution of a gifted new cadre of thinkers, leaders and doers in several parts of the world.
For the first time in such of a forum, I felt a little more confident to say that Nigeria had a good example in the person of Fashola of Lagos. There was of course the inevitable questioning around the situation around Nuhu Ribadu (more later) who was a powerful and compelling presence through out but there was the sense that Nigeria is at the cusp of something infinitely powerful which even or especially our present difficulties will catalyze.

Dele Olojede and Nasir El Rufai

Perhaps the email I sent to a friend of mine (reproduced below and adapted for you all) on arrival in Aspen is a more eloquent text of my feelings seeing as I am too exhausted from two days of slummy it as airports trying to get to New York to think. There were flight cancellation and delays, denial of responsibility by airlines, near fraudulent hotel reservation rule bending and the many other signposts to the flaws of the American system and a testament to the commonality of our search for a better life.

The very lovely very pregnant abby; deputy director leadership initiatives

I shall now go and wash and change out of my 24-hour clothes so I can go find decent food in the only city I truly like in America. Why? New York is honest to God rude, aggressive, nasty and dishevelled but she wraps you in her energy, sexiness and fun spitting expletives at all irrespective of colour, race and nationality whilst offering you anonymity and user friendliness, a feature sadly missing in many other cities of a gifted but insular nation.

Walter Isaacson, President/CEO of Aspen Institute, his daughter Betsy, myself, Okey and Ngozi

Nasir and Zoe

The Nigerian Mafia + 1: Nuhu, me, Roland Akosa, Ngozi, Phillips, Okey Enelamah, Dele, Nurudeen Lemu and Nasir

Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs Ajekigbe and I

Ndidi Nwuneli and Nasir

Peter Hirshberg Technorati chairman and I

Myself, Fmr. Deputy President of South Africa Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka and Ndidi Edozien

Ngozi Edozien and I

Beth Galante of Global Green, Queen Amina (Oyagbola) and the inimitable Keith Berwick

Barclay Snr. Executive Heather Sonn contemplates

United Nations: Mothomang, me, Mark, Heather, Zeona, Zoe and Hugo

Darling sister (brother) and friend,

How are you?

After 4 weeks of traveling round 5 states in Nigeria and penetrating all sort of communities to talk with people and finding myself swinging from abject despair to desperate hopefulness, I foolishly get on the plane and 17 flying hours later I am in serene Aspen feeling a little rootless and strangely fearful.

Then I put on the TV and a panel is seriously and intelligently discussing your book under an AWF reads series and slowly the tears drop. Of pain and frustration at my country, of my sense of entrapment in her continuous drama, the unspoken fear that I may be a bit stunted as a result mixed with the eternal hope which daughters and sons of that land such as your brilliant self represent.

Thanks my beautiful friend for always providing me inspiration and fuel to go on.
Big hug

I have always raised a “don’t mess with my head” brow when I get told I have a compelling story and must write it. Everybody says it, I ignore them all, secretly holding the belief beautifully articulated by Chimamanda in half of yellow sun, in describing mounting scales of horror as some things are so bad, they make other bad things ok. In other words kini big deal?

However as I sit this morning in my apartment in the ethereal Aspen meadow resort watching the clouds flow over the snow topped mountains (what horrible cliché) I had an epiphany. You see, much the same way as I sit and watch those clouds in one of the most prosperous places in the world, I had a month ago sat on a canoe in one of the poorest places paddled slowly by the hauntingly intense Dami through the dankest, blackest waters I had ever seen or smelt watching human faeces in various stages of decomposition flow by.



The power of my experiences is less about my person but about the stories, the people, the event that effortlessly weave through it.
Life does tend to happen to me and perhaps I will one day sit down and write my story.

At no time have I experienced life close up more than in the past six months.
After a turbulent 2008 (wait for the book), I hit 2009 running hard and what I will do over the next month or so is write a reverse diary. Reverse because I feel better telling stories once I step outside of them. Now, I promise you nothing as I shall digress from time to time in my moody, crabby way but then isn’t that just the way of life? The Bitch never promises you anything but she can give you so much if you want to ride with her.

So I will write what I shall call the TWF diaries. I don’t know how many I will write or in what order, if any, I will write them before I recoil into myself again but l promise not to bore you as I will not be so buried in the past as not to madden you with my unsolicited often rubbish opinion on all and sundry in the present. E ku ile o.

I left Lagos bloody minded; I had spent 4 weeks travelling from state to state filming on a frankly insane 10-hour daily schedule. We wrapped up on the Sunday, I get on the plane Monday morning. It virgin upper class (no, one does not require a sugar daddy, one requires a lot of air miles to get an upgrade) so I expected a pleasurable flight experience. It was good, better than most but I can see the cracks occasioned by the crunch, the bar extras are not as copious and the gushing love and extra pecks not as obvious besides I think the dainty cubes of eba and fabulous okra with beef or chicken stew on Arik’s first class is unbeatable. All in all it was a good flight and the British immigration if not friendly are not hostile and it takes only 25 minutes from plane to taxi.

Next day, I arrive bright and early at the airport to buy a business class upgrade for my United Airlines flight to Denver, it’s always cheaper to buy a last minute upgrade at the airport instead of buying a full fare business or first class ticket. I’ll be damned if I fly economy 9 hours to Denver in a United plane. I am a frequently flier mostly for work and thus I am scrupulously Ijebu with my air miles, flier club memberships and hotel discounts. God will not let me pay for what I have earned free or discounted, eewo! I am also travel savvy enough to know that most American Airlines are just glorified Ekene Dili Chukwu in comparison to their European or indeed, new Asian counterparts. I however was still dismayed by the jankara quality of the business class cabin of the United flight to Denver, the poor in flight entertainment, the shrew like air hostesses and the colon murdering food on offer. I grabbed the Sting autobiography I brought along to read, my nano and zoned out to naija hip hop for a truly miserable 9 hour flight beside a sizeable American business man who apparently had a gas emission issue.
By the way, why do they always ask you if you know you are at the premier counter when you want to check in? “Se won o ri oyinbo ri ni”? Can’t translate, meaning will be lost in translation.

Foolishly, as we have all fallen so hopelessly in love with the Obamas, I imagined the first couple’s charisma would translate to the American immigration. Hell no! You still get treated like a criminal when you attempt to enter America or indeed fly within America. Understandable perhaps but no less irritating. Aside the rudely barked questions and the dog sniffing for food imports (I wanted to kick the stupid mutt or mentally transport her into a pepper soup pot in Akwa Ibom), they take you aside for a second search and rescan through your claimed checked in luggage. I mean, gimme a break, I am a lot healthier than that red faced fart machine that flew with me and most of the people I saw on board, our most lethal disease is malaria, they are the ones creating all sorts of shit diseases by messing with nature. In addition, why profile Nigerians, we may do a bit of 419 here and there but we sure as hell are no bomb throwers being too cowardly and life loving for such arrant nonsense.

More nastiness at the Denver airport and a short bumpy flight into the truly splendid Aspen, a drive past Lance Armstrong’s home with the tantalizing possibility of seeing him walking with his new born as I was gleefully I informed he does by a resident and was nettled in my room. The calm cold air and the beauty of the mountains soothe yet infuriate me. I am angry at the memory of some of the things I had seen whilst travelling in Nigeria. I am jealous that the forefathers of these people had started something that got them where they are today, flawed as it may be but infinitely better than many nations of the world including mine. I am angry with our past leaders and a lot of the present ones, I am frustrated at us all as followers and secretly worried that my very heritage may have stunted me as a human. Even as I think these thoughts and flip through the truly pointless and mindless TV shows, I come across an intelligent panel discussion on Chimamanda's half of a yellow sun and I start crying. Its tears of exhaustion, fears and hope. I send her a quick message and I slowly settle down in my room. It is gorgeous here but I am homesick, I yearn to return to my own home, my own life, my own country and keep working and living in the hope that one day, the best and brightest amongst us will out number the others.

I am here as a fellow of the African Leadership Initiative of the Aspen institute, a network of leaders from all works of life from all corners of the planet. One of the most anticipated issues we will be looking at is what the world needs now. I am consumed about what Nigerian needs now and look forward to seeing the likes of Nuhu Ribadu tomorrow that will join us in that roundtable.

www.guardian.co.uk/books/2009/apr/05/chimamanda-ngozi-adichie-interview

Ali Baba

Asiwaju Bola Tinubu & Mrs. Remi Tinubu

Bisi Olatilo & Mrs. Omotayo Omotoso

Funmi Iyanda & Alhaji Lateef Adegbite

Funmi Iyanda with some Change-A-Life Beneficiaries

Funmi Iyanda, Asiwaju Bola Tinubu & Mrs. Remi Tinubu

Gbemi Shasore(Representative of the Lagos State First Lady), Funmi Iyanda, Deputy Governor Sarah Sosan, Asiwaju Bola Tinubu & Mrs. Remi Tinubu with Favour

Ireti Doyle, Sola Salako & Patrick Doyle

Jeremiah Gyang

May7, Bayo Haastrup & Funmi Iyanda

Patrick Doyle & Sunmi Smart-Cole

Reni Folawiyo & Bolanle Austen-Peters

Senator Tokunbo Afikuyomi & Dele Alake

Seyi Law

Sunmi Smart Cole, Remi Osholake (Remi Lagos)

Susan Eyo-Honesty, Mrs. Remi Tinubu, Ireti Doyle & Sola Salako

Timi Dakolo & Ade Bakare

Tunde Kelani & Guest

Yemi Sax

A Cross-Section of Guests at the Event

For more information about Change A Life Foundation, please visit www.changealifenigeria.org

10.30 pm, Friday eve of Valentine and I am in my office battling a recalcitrant cold whilst surrounded by my 80% female (one 9 months pregnant) crew. The guys are great too. It has been a tough week and next week promises to be even tougher as we work towards the formalization of our 7-year-old CHANGE A LIFE PROJECT.

The hard work is easy, we are used to working hard, the difficult part I have found is explaining to people that all this hard work is passion and belief driven. I so hate that term, "oh you are still at work, the dough must be rolling in o". I have never worked or lived for money.

Explaining the concept of working for passion or just living through your heart, your passions and your beliefs is hard in a transactional society so when one of my Tutu fellows, the razor sharp, super smart, super efficient, super cool Elsie from Tanzania (l can feel those beautiful eyes of hers throwing daggers my way;-) sent this TED TALKS video, l could only smile. Isabella Allende is one of my favourite authors and here she is on her wittiest form as she talks about passion and more.

I just woke up from a nasty nightmare about a party gone awry and people getting murdered whilst I conduct a meaningless interview with a drunken police officer that was trying to hit on me. I blame JENIFA. Last night, in a time honoured 6-year tradition myself and my girlfriends met Thursday evening to catch up on work, life, love and the purpose of existence. It's a no children, no husband, no boyfriend, no children, (oh l said that already) evening spent either at the one person's home, the cinema or a café, restaurant or bar.

We usually have fun whilst we talk about our experiences good and bad at work, home and life. We are one another's cheerleaders and thermometers, we don't do gossip not because we are not interested in other people, we just unfortunately don't hate, dislike or envy anyone enough, clearly badly programmed females.

So yesterday, after talking about work, Michelle's inauguration dress (okay we gossip but surely the obama are the most riveting figures in the world now and ladies, yes boys you too, leave Michelle alone. God knows the sort of pressure she was under to look good on that day) we decided to watch the most popular film in Nigeria right now called JENIFA.


Jenifa is a triumph in word of mouth marketing and exemplary in the variety of people it appeals to. Everybody and their cat told me how brilliantly funny jenifa was so we sat down to a mountain of dodo, rice and fresh fish pepper soup to watch the comedy of the year.

Funke Akindele the star actress is brilliant and hilarious as SULIAT aka JENIFA the village girl on campus bent on becoming a bis gal (big gal). She has created new urban slangs and phrases that you will be totally uncool not to get. Suliat kan! Ayetoro kan! Mo donjasi re! bisgas! Gbogbo bisgas! Ousssss! Yes all those mean something and will be used on the street but only make sense when you watch Jenifa.

Akindele is the best part of the film, actually it is her acting and comic skills that makes the film and rescue it from being 3 hours (part 1 and 2) of torture. Of course you do have to pardon the usual poor production, poor sound, poor editing, poor translation and parts where damn it they just sod vexatious things like translations and continuity. My take on those normal challenges of Nollywood is that technical production issues can be overcome easily with better funding but the heart of filmmaking is a great story, a fabulous plot. All forms of media are really about different platforms of telling a story. That is the central and cheapest part because it only requires talent, which is priceless.

I wish the film Jenifa had stuck to its simple and good central plot of the village girl seeking to fit in on campus and had maintained its sense of humour through out. Instead it oscillated between fairly good comedy, badly done drama, ignorant propaganda and sub plots that suspend credibility.

As women our skin crawled at the many stereotypes of women. One of us is a doctor who had had a rough day dealing with the fall out of ignorance and the bad place women generally are in our society. An example was a very poor woman who had a collapsed uterus, which requires surgery to remove it preferring to die than lose the remote possibility of bearing a male child for her even poorer husband. She has 3 daughters already. This is one of her fairly good cases.

The journalist amongst us pointed out the lack of consequence for the heinous behaviour of the male characters in response to real or perceived ego denting behaviour from their women. There was the campus lover boy who pulled a gun on an aristo (sugar daddy) he caught his girlfriend with. He and his friends robbed the man at gunpoint; he eventually participates in the eye gorging and eventual murder of said girl friend. A really macabre plot, the cause of my nightmare and a moment of surreality in the film was the rave turned ritual murder orgy by a group of campus cult boys which was never reported or accounted for again even though many partying girls where murdered.

Excuse me, when did we transit into a horror film or is the joke on me? Finally, there was a scene where the fiancée of a repented, badly cut maxi Ankara (I can kill those dresses) dress wearing, mum in law to be approved girl condescended to forgive her abortion caused (as concluded by a retarded doctor) infertility by admitting he was a former campus cultist who had murdered many. Help me someone, murder, promiscuity, murder, when did those things become equal in scale of deviant and criminal human behaviour?

The doctor amongst us cringed at the perpetuation of the erroneous belief that infertility is caused by promiscuity and abortions, she shook her head at the continuous assertion of the screen doctor that gonorrhea leads to AIDS. She knows the dire consequences of badly communicated or fear driven sexual education, which is the real culprit with sexual health issues.

l had a problem with the perpetuation of the myth of the girls making good only by direct or indirect prostitution and men's bad behaviour being excusable on account juju. No wonder a little shrimpet once asked my scrimp asked how a mummy can have such a home and buy so many things when actually in her own home, as is true of many homes, her mummy is the primary bread winner but the little one has been socialized not to associate those three words, women, work, actualization.

Most of our socially dysfunctional behaviour is not gender generated but an issue of poverty and breakdown of structures that regulate human conduct. It is a myth that there are big men who give women endless supply of money. On average most men and women in Nigeria are poor, the number of very wealthy men is small and they only give enough to keep the woman needing them whether she is wife, girl friend or concubine.
Most women l know work their asses off to support the husband and family whether in the market place or banking hall. There are a few exceptions to the rule but societies are not defined by exceptions. The younger girls may be easier to fool as their needs are less so the money required is not a much thus more men can take advantage of that, especially as both men and women have bought into the idea of expressing self worth only through the material.
Even then these do not constitute the majority and for those who are, it is not sustainable. I repeat it is not a gender issue, as most young men will do the same if the situation was reversed.

As to the argument that these films reflect our reality l say yes they reflect aspects of our reality, which is often magnified and distorted to grotesque proportions.

In any case, who says those stories of human elevation from Hollywood is the American reality. They take aspects of their reality, dress it up and present a vision of whom and what they aspire to be; the best vision of themselves even in the most brutally subversive movies. When last did you see an American film, sitcom or series that portrays the American army as anything other than clean, all conquering, all humane even when they maim and kill. Is this not the same army whose men news reports have shown to rape young girls in remote posting, and pee on prisoner whilst laughing and filming it? Do you see that in movies?

I do not advocate rabid senseless propaganda or the sort of censorship that murders creativity but please enough already with the ashawo woman, witch woman, juju woman, victim woman, and pseudo religious woman and give us a heroine to admire and love flaws and all. The tragedy is that handled differently that heroine could have been Jenifa, the all-conquering bad style icon of ayetoro! Suliat kan, Ayeetoro kan, jenifa kan, no sakin!! We have done it before; Baba Sala was nuanced, laced with irony and a little subversive especially with the stereotypes and a slapstick comic character. Oh dear! l see l have lost my sense of humour and become strident and incoherent exactly what happens with JENIFA, three unduly long, dazed and confused hours after the first scene.

As we watch the inauguration of Obama today, all senses and emotions (especially for us on the African continent and the black race world wide) engaged. It may be worth our while to not only read (or read again if you have seen it), the speech below from wrageblog given by Obama in Kenya in 2006 but to ingest the subcontext of what he was saying. How are we going to make the African dream come true? Actually who has defined what The African dream is in the manner of Martin Luther King? Perhaps more significantly, should the path be to an African dream as against a Nigerian, Kenyan, Cameroonian dream.....

Today is significant not only as America's moment or Obama's but for the sneering longing that it creates deep in the belly of millions of Africans and other people whose potentials are as yet unrealized. I am spending most part of the day in deep thought about all these even as I struggle to contain my emotions.

Thanks Sally Udoma and the ALI (African Leadership Initiative)community for sharing this.

August 28, 2006
An Honest Government, A Hopeful Future
University of Nairobi
Nairobi, Kenya

“The first time I came to Kenya was in 1987. I had just finished three years of work as a community organizer in low-income neighborhoods of Chicago, and was about to enroll in law school. My sister, Auma, was teaching that year at this university, and so I came to stay with her for a month.

My experience then was very different than it has been on this trip. Instead of a motorcade, we traveled in my sister’s old VW Beetle, which even then was already ten years old. When it broke down in front of Uhuru Park, we had to push until some joakalis came to fix it by the side of the road. I slept on the couch of my sister’s apartment, not a fancy hotel, and often took my meals at a small tea-house in downtown Nairobi. When we went upcountry, we traveled by train and matatu, with chickens and collard greens and sometimes babies placed in my lap.

But it was a magical trip. To begin with, I discovered the warmth and sense of community that the people of Kenya possess - their sense of hopefulness even in the face of great difficulty. I discovered the beauty of the land, a beauty that haunts you long after you’ve left.

And most importantly for me, I discovered the story of my father’s life, and the story of his father before him.

I learned that my grandfather had been a cook for the British and, although he was a respected elder in his village, he was called “boy” by his employers for most of his life. I learned about the brutal repression of Operation Anvil, the days of rape and torture in the “Pipeline” camps, the lives that so many gave, and how my grandfather had been arrested briefly during this period, despite being at the periphery of Kenya’s liberation struggles.

I learned how my father had grown up in a tiny village called Alego, near Siaya, during this period of tumult. I began to understand and appreciate the distance he had traveled - from being a boy herding goats to a student at the University of Hawaii and Harvard University to the respected economist that he was upon his return to Kenya. In many ways, he embodied the new Africa of the early Sixties, a man who had obtained the knowledge of the Western world, and sought to bring it back home, where he hoped he could help create a new nation.

And yet, I discovered that for all his education, my father’s life ended up being filled with disappointments. His ideas about how Kenya should progress often put him at odds with the politics of tribe and patronage, and because he spoke his mind, sometimes to a fault, he ended up being fired from his job and prevented from finding work in the country for many, many years. And on a more personal level, because he never fully reconciled the traditions of his village with more modern conceptions of family - because he related to women as his father had, expecting them to obey him no matter what he did - his family life was unstable, and his children never knew him well.

In many ways, then, my family’s life reflects some of the contradictions of Kenya, and indeed, the African continent as a whole. The history of Africa is a history of ancient kingdoms and great traditions; the story of people fighting to be free from colonial rule; the heroism of not only of great men like Nkrumah and Kenyatta and Mandela, but also ordinary people who endured great hardship, from Ghana to South Africa, to secure self-determination in the face of great odds.

But for all the progress that has been made, we must surely acknowledge that neither Kenya nor the African continent have yet fulfilled their potential - that the hopefulness of the post-colonial era has been replaced by cynicism and sometimes despair, and that true freedom has not yet been won for those struggling to live on less than a few shillings a day, for those who have fallen prey to HIV/AIDS or malaria, to those ordinary citizens who continue to find themselves trapped in the crossfire of war or ethnic conflict.

One statistic powerfully describes this unfulfilled promise. In early 1960’s, as Kenya was gaining its independence, its gross national product was not very different from that of South Korea. Today, South Korea’s economy is forty times larger than Kenya’s.

How can we explain this fact? Certainly it is not due to lack of effort on the part of ordinary Kenyans - we know how hard Kenyans are willing to work, the tremendous sacrifices that Kenyan mothers make for their children, the Herculean efforts that Kenyan fathers make for their families. We know as well the talent, the intelligence, and the creativity that exists in this country. And we know how much this land is blessed - just as the entire African continent is blessed - with great gifts and riches.

So what explains this? I believe there a number of factors at work.

Kenya, like many African nations did not come of age under the best historical circumstances. It suffers from the legacy of colonialism, of national boundaries that were drawn without regard to the political and tribal alignments of indigenous peoples, and that therefore fed conflict and tribal strife.

Kenya was also forced to rapidly move from a highly agrarian to a more urban, industrialized nation. This means that the education and health care systems - issues that my own nation more than 200 years old still struggles with - lag behind, impacting its development.

Third, Kenya is hurt from factors unique to Africa’s geography and place in the world — disease, distance from viable markets and especially terms of trade. When African nations were just gaining independence, industrialized nations had decades of experience building their domestic economies and navigating the international financial system. And, as Frederick Douglass once stated: “Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did, and it never will.” As a result, many African nations have been asked to liberalize their markets without reciprocal concessions from mature economies. This lack of access for Africa’s agriculture and commodities has restricted an important engine of economic growth. Other issues, such as resource extraction and the drain of human capital have also been major factors.

As a Senator from the United States, I believe that my country, and other nations, have an obligation and self-interest in being full partners with Kenya and with Africa. And, I will do my part to shape an intelligent foreign policy that promotes peace and prosperity. A foreign policy that gives hope and opportunity to the people of this great continent.

But, Kenya must do its part. It cannot wait for other nations to act first. The hard truth is that nations, by and large, will act in their self-interest and if Kenya does not act, it will fall behind.

It’s more than just history and outside influences that explain why Kenya lags behind. Like many nations across this continent, where Kenya is failing is in its ability to create a government that is transparent and accountable. One that serves its people and is free from corruption.

There is no doubt that what Kenyans have accomplished with this independence is both impressive and inspiring. Among African nations, Kenya remains a model for representative democracy - a place where many different ethnic factions have found a way to live and work together in peace and stability. You enjoy a robust civil society; a press that’s free, fair, and honest; and a strong partnership with my own country that has resulted in critical cooperation on terrorist issues, real strides in fighting disease and poverty, and an important alliance on fostering regional stability.

And yet, the reason I speak of the freedom that you fought so hard to win is because today that freedom is in jeopardy. It is being threatened by corruption.

Corruption is not a new problem. It’s not just a Kenyan problem, or an African problem. It’s a human problem, and it has existed in some form in almost every society. My own city of Chicago has been the home of some of the most corrupt local politics in American history, from patronage machines to questionable elections. In just the last year, our own U.S. Congress has seen a representative resign after taking bribes, and several others fall under investigation for using their public office for private gain.

But while corruption is a problem we all share, here in Kenya it is a crisis - a crisis that’s robbing an honest people of the opportunities they have fought for - the opportunity they deserve.

I know that while recent reports have pointed to strong economic growth in this country, 56% of Kenyans still live in poverty. And I know that the vast majority of people in this country desperately want to change this.

It is painfully obvious that corruption stifles development - it siphons off scarce resources that could improve infrastructure, bolster education systems, and strengthen public health. It stacks the deck so high against entrepreneurs that they cannot get their job-creating ideas off the ground. In fact, one recent survey showed that corruption in Kenya costs local firms 6% of their revenues, the difference between good-paying jobs in Kenya or somewhere else. And corruption also erodes the state from the inside out, sickening the justice system until there is no justice to be found, poisoning the police forces until their presence becomes a source of insecurity rather than comfort.

Corruption has a way of magnifying the very worst twists of fate. It makes it impossible to respond effectively to crises — whether it’s the HIV/AIDS pandemic or malaria or crippling drought.

What’s worse - corruption can also provide opportunities for those who would harness the fear and hatred of others to their agenda and ambitions.

It can shield a war criminal - even one like Felicien Kabuga, suspected of helping to finance and orchestrate the Rwandan genocide - by allowing him to purchase safe haven for a time and robbing all humanity of the opportunity to bring the criminal to justice.

Terrorist attacks - like those that have shed Kenyan blood and struck at the heart of the Kenyan economy - are facilitated by customs and border officers who can be paid off, by police forces so crippled by corruption that they do not protect the personal safety of Kenyans walking the streets of Nairobi, and by forged documents that are easy to find in a climate where graft and fraud thrive.

Some of the worst actors on the international stage can also take advantage of the collective exhaustion and outrage that people feel with official corruption, as we’ve seen with Islamic extremists who promise purification, but deliver totalitarianism. Endemic corruption opens the door to this kind of movement, and in its wake comes a new set of distortions and betrayals of public trust.

In the end, if the people cannot trust their government to do the job for which it exists - to protect them and to promote their common welfare - all else is lost. And this is why the struggle against corruption is one of the great struggles of our time.

The good news is that there are already signs of progress here. Willingness to report corruption is increasingly significantly in Kenya. The Kenyan media has been courageous in uncovering and reporting on some of the most blatant abuses of the system, and there has been a growing recognition among people and politicians that this is a critical issue.

Among other things, this recognition resulted in the coalition that came to power in the December elections of 2002. This coalition succeeded by promising change, and their early gestures - the dismissal of the shaky judges, the renewed vigor of the investigation into the Goldenberg scandal, the calls for real disclosure of elected officials’ personal wealth - were all promising.

But elections are not enough. In a true democracy, it is what happens between elections that is the true measure of how a government treats its people.

Today, we’re starting to see that the Kenyan people want more than a simple changing of the guard, more than piecemeal reforms to a crisis that’s crippling their country. The Kenyan people are crying out for real change, and whether one voted orange or banana in last year’s referendum, the message that many Kenyans seemed to be sending was one of dissatisfaction with the pace of reform, and real frustration with continued tolerance of corruption at high levels.

And so we know that there is more work to be done - more reforms to be made. I don’t have all the solutions or think that they’ll be easy, but there are a few places that a country truly committed to reform could start.

We know that the temptation to take a bribe is greater when you’re not making enough on the job. And we also know that the more people there are on the government payroll, the more likely it is that someone will be encouraged to take a bribe. So if the government found ways to downsize the bureaucracy - to cut out the positions that aren’t necessary or useful - it could use the extra money to increase the salary of other government officials.

Of course, the best way to reduce bureaucracy and increase pay is to create more private sector jobs. And the way to create good jobs is when the rules of a society are transparent - when there’s a clear and advertised set of laws and regulations regarding how to start a business, what it takes to own property, how to go about getting a loan - there is less of a chance that some corrupt bureaucrat will make up his own rules that suit only his interests. Clarifying these rules and focusing resources on building a judicial system that can enforce them and resolve disputes should be a primary goal of any government suffering from corruption.

In addition, we know that the more information the public is provided, the easier it will be for your Kenyan brothers and sisters out in the villages to evaluate whether they are being treated fairly by their public servants or not. Wealth declarations do little good if no one can access them, and accountability in government spending is not possible if no one knows how much was available and allocated to a given project in the first place.

Finally, ethnic-based tribal politics has to stop. It is rooted in the bankrupt idea that the goal of politics or business is to funnel as much of the pie as possible to one’s family, tribe, or circle with little regard for the public good. It stifles innovation and fractures the fabric of the society. Instead of opening businesses and engaging in commerce, people come to rely on patronage and payback as a means of advancing. Instead of unifying the country to move forward on solving problems, it divides neighbor from neighbor.

An accountable, transparent government can break this cycle. When people are judged by merit, not connections, then the best and brightest can lead the country, people will work hard, and the entire economy will grow - everyone will benefit and more resources will be available for all, not just select groups.
Of course, in the end, one of the strongest weapons your country has against corruption is the ability of you, the people, to stand up and speak out about the injustices you see. The Kenyan people are the ultimate guardians against abuses.

The world knows the names of Wangari Maathai and John Githongo, who are fighting against the insidious corruption that has weakened Kenya. But there are so many others, some of whom I’m meeting during my visit here - Betty Murungi, Ken Njau, Jane Onyango, Maina Kiai, Milly Odhiombo, and Hussein Khalid. As well as numerous Kenyan men and women who have refused to pay bribes to get civil servants to perform their duties; the auditors and inspectors general who have done the job before them accurately and fairly, regardless of where the facts have led; the journalists who asked questions and pushed for answers when it may have been more lucrative to look the other way, or whip up a convenient fiction. And then there are anonymous Kenyan whistleblowers who show us what is, so that we can all work together to demand what should be.

By rejecting the insulting idea that corruption is somehow a part of Kenyan culture, these heroes reveal the very opposite - they reveal a strength and integrity of character that can build a great country, a great future. By focusing on building strong, independent institutions - like an anti-corruption commission with real authority - rather than cults of personality, they make a contribution to their country that will last longer than their own lives. They fight the fight of our time.

Looking out at this crowd of young people, I have faith that you will fight this fight too.
You will decide if your leaders will be held accountable, or if you will look the other way.
You will decide if the standards and the rules will be the same for everyone - regardless of ethnicity or of wealth.

And you will determine the direction of this country in the 21st century - whether the hard work of the many is lost to the selfish desires of a few, or whether you build an open, honest, stronger Kenya where everyone rises together.

This is the Kenya that so many who came before you envisioned - all those men and women who struggled and sacrificed and fought for the freedom you enjoy today.

I know that honoring their memory and making that freedom real may seem like an impossible task - an effort bigger than you can imagine - but sometimes all it takes to move us there is doing what little you can to right the wrongs you see.

As I said at the outset, I did not know my father well - he returned to Kenya from America when I was still young. Since that time I have known him through stories - those my mother would tell and those I heard from my relatives here in Kenya on my last trip to this country.

I know from these stories that my father was not a perfect man - that he made his share of mistakes and disappointed his share of people in his lifetime.

As our parents’ children, we have the opportunity to learn from these mistakes and disappointments. We have the opportunity to muster the courage to fulfill the promise of our forefathers and lead our great nations towards a better future.

In today’s Kenya - a Kenya already more open and less repressive than in my father’s day - it is that courage that will bring the reform so many of you so desperately want and deserve. I wish all of you luck in finding this courage in the days and months to come, and I want you to know that as your ally, your friend, and your brother, I will be there to help in any way I can. Thank you.”