Askari Choruses: East Africa’s Roads of War

Episode Narrative

In the years between 1914 and 1918, a significant chapter in East Africa unfolded against the backdrop of World War I. The battles fought here were not just those of guns and trenches, but also of rhythm and voices. The Carrier Corps emerged, composed largely of local porters who carried munitions and supplies along treacherous routes. It was a journey filled with hardship. To lighten the burden of their labor, these porters turned to song. The rhythmic chants and melodies they employed were more than mere distraction; they were tools of endurance, blending local musical traditions with the pressing demands of wartime logistics. Through these communal songs, they found strength, maintaining a pulse that set the pace for grueling treks across vast, inhospitable terrains.

As the Great War drew to a close, East Africa did not return to the quietude of peaceful existence. The years that followed were marked not only by colonial dominance but also by a profound transformation in the cultural landscape. From 1914 to 1945, the King's African Rifles became more than just a military organization; their bands began subtly to weave indigenous rhythms and melodies into traditional European military marches. This fusion birthed a new musical form, one that served dual purposes: it bolstered the morale of soldiers while simultaneously enforcing the colonial discipline that lay at the heart of the military's aims. These bands, embodying a hybrid identity, marched to the beat of drums that echoed the diverse history of their land.

On the coast of East Africa, another musical evolution was taking place amidst the conflicts of the World Wars. Taarab music took on new dimensions, incorporating lyrics that delved deep into the lives of the people. The verses debated pressing issues such as food rations and the heavy weight of colonial taxation. The songs became a mirror, reflecting the social tensions woven into the fabric of colonial rule. Artists used their voices not only to entertain but to comment on the struggles of daily existence under oppressive conditions. Through these melodies, they carved out narratives rich with emotion and resilience.

In this turbulent milieu, praise poetry thrived. Oral historians and musicians, known as praise poets, emerged as vital figures within their communities. They memorialized the losses suffered by African soldiers and civilians, helping their societies process the upheavals wrought by new colonial borders. Every lament, every story recounted, was an act of remembrance, capturing the human cost of war and colonial ambitions. Their performances transcended mere words; they became cathartic expressions of grief and longing, aiding communities in grappling with the tragic realities that swept through their lives.

The military influence on music during these years was profound yet often dualistic. Military music served not only as a tool for enforcing colonial control but also as a medium for local cultural expression. African musicians adapted European band traditions, integrating them into their own distinctive styles. This blending crafted a unique performative space where colonial power met indigenous identity, evident in parades and public ceremonies where drums and fife merged in unison. It was a dance of power and identity, each note echoing the complexities of the colonial experience.

As the years of war dragged into the interwar period, especially in regions like South Nyanza in Kenya, music took on a new role within the colonial military structure. The Kenya Police Force introduced marching bands, asserting authority while fostering discipline among newly recruited African members. Music, in this instance, became a symbol of control — a way for the colonial powers to instill an order that sought to manage and govern the African populace.

Beyond the banners of military control, another soundscape emerged in the colonial context. The concertina, often heard in South African War camps, resonated with the soldiers, embodying both the strictures of military life and the sufferings endured. These soundscapes shaped soldiers’ experiences of war, creating a tapestry of sound that spoke to control and, paradoxically, to a longing for freedom.

In places like Nigeria during both World Wars, colonial customs administrations employed music and public performances as tools to maintain social order. These musical expressions were woven into the broader strategies that trained eyes to a need for revenue collection and the reinforcement of authority. While their relationship to music might seem indirect, they highlighted the pervasive influence of colonial culture over everyday life.

Remarkably, this era also saw the advent of recording technology. The phonograph and early sound recording devices emerged, capturing and archiving African musical performances that often played crucial roles in military or colonial contexts. This documentation served a dual purpose — it preserved indigenous culture while simultaneously exoticizing it. These recordings were snapshots, capturing the vibrancy and richness of musical traditions that persisted despite the chaos of war.

Military musicians from local populations, sometimes including immigrant communities, brought their diverse backgrounds to the military bands. They contributed to the professionalization of these bands, modernizing them and infusing local musical cultures into the colonial framework. The intersection of Western musical forms with African traditions began to redefine the sounds of military music, paving the way for future developments.

As the colonial winds shifted and the tides of conflict blurred the lines of identity, music halls and variety shows burst into life in colonial cities. These venues served more than entertainment; they embodied subtle political commentaries. As performers sang of wartime anxieties and social dynamics, they provided a space where audiences could connect through shared experiences, a communal catharsis amid upheaval.

The sonic textures of war didn’t fade once the last battle was fought. Instead, they inspired contemporary experimental music. Early 20th-century composers drew on the militarized noise and soundscapes born out of these colonial conflicts, shaping a new artistic language that spoke of both beauty and brutality.

In East Africa, oral musical traditions, including both praise poetry and taarab, carried the weight of resistance and cultural preservation. Amidst the disruption wrought by war and colonial administration, these forms of expression acted as bastions of identity, keeping cultural memories alive in a tumultuous era.

The dependency of the colonial military on music for recruitment, morale, and discipline reflected broader cultural dynamics. Music became a negotiating ground — between colonial authorities and local populations — where authenticity clashed with imposed structures. The melodies that rang in military camps echoed in villages, creating a dialogue of both tension and unity.

In those war-torn years, documentation and archiving of colonial music intensified. Often conducted by European ethnomusicologists and colonial administrators, this practice sought to preserve the musical forms while simultaneously exoticizing and distancing them from their original meaning. This archival impulse resulted in a double-edged sword, where preservation often led to misinterpretation, stripping music of its rich cultural context.

As journeying soldiers and porters gathered to share songs, music became a means to forge communal bonds, a support system in the harsh realities of war. Under grueling conditions, it provided the mental resilience necessary to endure the burdens laid upon them. The songs stitched together threads of unity that transcended individual suffering, forging a collective identity amidst the chaos.

Post-war, the blending of Western military music with African rhythms began to shape new popular and nationalist music movements across East Africa. This collision of cultures anticipated the vibrant soundscapes that would emerge during the struggles for independence. The echoes of military bands continued to resonate, reverberating through the rise of nationalist movements that sought to reclaim identity and agency.

Visual materials also played a vital role. Postcards and early films documented the efforts of colonial musicians and their performances, shaping perceptions back in the metropole. These images reinforced exoticized views of African culture, perpetuating narratives that both captivated and distorted the realities of life in colonial Africa.

As the coastal life in East Africa began to reorder during the World Wars, musical expressions emerged, negotiating new identities and colonial hierarchies. The trauma of war became embedded in local song texts and performance practices, offering insight into the complexities faced by communities. Each note sung could resonate with loss, resilience, and the indelible spirit of a people molded by adversity.

In the final analysis, the relationship between music and the roads of war in East Africa during these tumultuous years serves as a powerful reminder of the human spirit’s tenacity. As the voices of the past rise through the echoes of time, they ask us to reflect: How do we remember those who struggled before us, and how does the chorus of their lives continue to shape our own stories today?