Dear Chief Falola,
From my hideout in Florida, I have been observing with admiration, and curiosity, your new and impressive COVID-19 pastime: threading our needles of despair with songs that soothed us in the Rainforest.
You have gone to the land of Bob Marley and Jimmy Cliff, passed through that of Sonny Okosun, gotten yourself into a little trouble with a "Negro Spiritual," and now heading to the land of Dingiswayo to give thanks to some unknown DJ who played Yvonne Chaka Chaka her song.
I have wondered why in your journey through West Africa, you did not stop over in Ghana to pay homage to Nana Kwame Ampadu and his African Brothers Band, or King Pratt and his African Revolution Band and their rendition of one of Nkrumah's fiery speeches in the song "Ka Na Wu" (Say it and Die). Or the 1950s song by E.K. Nyame's Band entitled "Influenza"---a lamentation over a pandemic of unknown origin but with a paralyzing impact.
And while I am it, saying it like Kwame did, I know you can't pay homage to every songster, from the Diaspora to the Desert. And you don't need to. Your prerogatives have so far been priceless.
But if you should head East in your glide through the landscapes of music, like Homer's gods on Mount Olympus, fly to Ethiopia and have some nectar with the late Tilahun Gesese. In his song "Ethiopia" lives some of Africa's finely-spun musical lyrics. It is the Ethiopian version of Eric Donaldson's "Land of My Birth."
While we await the verdict of the virus, keep playing us some music. We hope the people in the lands of our birth too are seeking solace in the songs that once warmed troubled hearts.
Gratitude is yours, Chief, as my people say!
Edward Kissi
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