Angélique Kidjo gets down with fan.Image by heartonastick via FlickrMost people don’t know that the pantheon of the “Vudun” Gods from Benin is as rich and complex as the Greeks’. Our rhythms spread throughout Brazil, Cuba and New Orleans during the period of the slave trade. I have been to Salvador de Bahia and Havana and heard people sing songs from my village, all kept alive for centuries by the African diaspora.
Angélique Kidjo
As a French colony, Dahomey provided lots of civil servants for much of the West African region. It used to be called the “Latin Quarter” of Africa because of its number of intellectuals and doctors. And so although I was already making a living as a teenager with my singing career, my parents insisted that I dedicate myself to school because we lived in such a great educational and cultural environment. By the 10th grade, I was already studying philosophy, and debating the merits of Rousseau and Camus with my friends.One could expect that independence would be an easy path for my country. But Dahomey was plagued with the same problems that affected other African countries. Colonists had drawn the borders of these countries without any ethnic or historical consideration. Different traditional nations were forced to coexist and the French rulers always favored a particular group – in Dahomey’s case, the people from its Southern region – to help them govern the country. I was from the South, and, though my family was not rich, we were privileged.
When the many political intrigues made the country unstable, a military group came from the North and took power in 1972, hoping that wealth would be redistributed equally. This group also thought that eradicating Western culture and influence would be a solution to all of our problems. Marxism-Leninism was officially adopted by the state. Before I could speak with anyone I saw on the street, I had to salute them with “Ready for Revolution, the fight goes on!” Everyone stood behind the revolution when the famous French mercenary Bob Denard, following orders given to him by the French secret service, tried in vain to invade Benin.
But the revolution cut off the country from the rest of the world and almost destroyed its educational system. As a singer, the only thing I could do was to praise the revolution and sing at political gatherings. I felt I could no longer express myself and one day in 1983, without telling anyone, I escaped the country. I realized on that day that the dream of a proud independent Africa had been broken.
Since that day, even though I’ve lived and worked in exile, I’ve drawn almost all of my inspiration from the incredible richness of my culture. Most people don’t know that the pantheon of the “Vudun” Gods from Benin is as rich and complex as the Greeks’. Our rhythms spread throughout Brazil, Cuba and New Orleans during the period of the slave trade. I have been to Salvador de Bahia and Havana and heard people sing songs from my village, all kept alive for centuries by the African diaspora.
Read entire essay @ Daughter of Independence - NYTimes.com
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