In 2023, Tanzania’s most popular music genre, Bongo Flava, began to see a resurgence of its icons from the early 2000s. “Shisha” by Marioo featured comedic singer-songwriter Mr Nice, and noughties breakout heartthrob Mr Blue featured in “Mapoz” by Diamond Platnumz and Jay Melody, and was sampled in Mbosso’s “Sitaki.” This gathering of artists, past and present, invites reflection on the genre’s journey and the shifts that have happened along the way. Most glaring is the shift in the role of the Bongo Flava artist. 

What was once a genre with artists who used their music to comment on society, taking up roles as educators of their fellow youth, has now become one that not only rejects that responsibility but strives to separate itself from Tanzanian youth. The prevailing school of thought explaining the genre’s origins is that following the imposition of  Structural Adjustment Programs (SAPS) after the end of the Ujamaa period, there was a liberalization of the media and entertainment industry that allowed for the importation of foreign music genres, including hip hop, r&b, reggae and zouk. It is the blending of these various genres with the home culture and Swahili language that birthed Bongo Flava.

Since then, it has evolved and birthed many sub-genres (most recently Bongopiano) that don’t always fit neatly into specific categories. Though Bongo Flava has sometimes been synonymous with all music originating from Tanzania, here I use it to refer to the specific genre-blend as described above. 

Along with music importation came more media channels, increased access to recording studios and equipment, and the production capabilities of producers such as Master Jay. This made both making and listening to music more accessible.

Musicians such as rapper Afande Sele believe that it was disenfranchised youth who spearheaded Bongo Flava, using the genre as a means for expressing their experiences, tastes, fears, and frustrations, while also acting as a potential source of financial security. And, by the early 2000s, Bongo Flava had solidified itself as the sound of the youth—including the titular “Mapinduzi Halisi” by Professor Jay—divorcing itself from imitations of American Hip Hop and instead standing as its own genre. 

A core tenet of the genre was its educational bias. Social and political issues were often the topic of Bongo Flava tracks. Rising unemployment rates, poverty, poor infrastructure and similar concerns frequently showed up in many discographies. Projects such asUkweli Mtupu by Wagosi Wa Kaya and singles like “Tunataabika” by Mabaga Fresh, a music duo living with disabilities, articulated the experiences of people often alienated by ableist conversations on poverty and class. 

Civic education or sonic protest against political shortcomings in the country also happened frequently. Professor Jay, for instance, released the popular “Ndiyo Mzee” and “Kikao Cha Dharura” to address politicians’ failure to keep the promises they make to citizens during their election campaigns. Rapper-singer Nakaaya Sumari also released “Mr Politician” with similar sentiments. 

Artists wore this educational responsibility with pride, as evidenced by their music or the monikers they took up that denoted leadership or teaching qualities [i.e., Professor Jay]. 

Of course, there were artists whose music was simply for entertainment, and was well- received by audiences, on radio and TV charts. For example, Ray C’s “Sogea Sogea,” “Mikasi” by Mangwear and “Hakuna Kulala” by Juma Nature, among many others, which were about the pleasures of going out with friends, drinking, and sex. 

But the popularity of these songs did not erase the strong belief that Bongo Flava’s educational potential should be prioritized. In fact, rapper Kalapina even chided his peers, when he commented on love songs released, by saying: “many artists in the country sing sex songs, not love songs as they claim, and in that way they spoil the society and ruin the new generation.” 

Bongo Flava artists from the early 2000s certainly did not always get it right; some of the most successful songs released—even those with the intent to educate—were rife with misogyny and other harmful sentiments. For instance, the beloved “Wanaume Kama Mabinti’” by Lady Jaydee, criticized men who were not self-reliant by likening them to women. Or a verse in the song “Itikadi” by East Coast Team, where a member of the crew raps about luring a drunk man she meets in a bar into a room before robbing him. For this, the genre received heavy backlash. And just as with Kalapina’s critique of love songs, the criticisms were rooted in the desire to preserve the genre’s educational quality. 

Although Tanzania has enjoyed economic growth in the past two decades, there has not been a significant improvement in the quality of life for the majority. In fact, the bottom 50% of the country’s population continues to take home a lower share of the national income (13% in 2022), while the top 10% of the country’s population enjoys a greater portion of the GDP (51.4% in 2022). Yet, Bongo Flava has progressively stopped reflecting the country’s material realities.

First, we must consider shifts in global culture. Streaming services and internet culture have made the consumption of music much more passive. Records come and go much quicker, with audiences always eager for the next thing. Artists have responded by packaging their music using repeatable lyrics and catchphrases that keep listeners’ attention for as long as possible. 

Where lyrics are not able to snag consumer’s attention, artists selling desirable lifestyles often have. Personas crafted around lavish lifestyles, expensive clothes, and exclusivity have become the norm. These figures work to separate Bongo Flava artists from the ordinary citizen, such that they become something to strive for. Diamond Platinumz, who made his debut more than a decade ago, is a perfect example of this change.

There are also country-specific factors; what once promised to be a source of financial security for young people has not proven to be a sustainable route out of poverty. There are structural hindrances, including a lack of strong music-sharing platforms that could expose artists to bigger audiences and provide substantial payouts. Existing distribution platforms such as Mkito and Boomplay have not been able to rival piracy either. As a result, live music remains the only substantial means of income. Performances that will do well on stage, often featuring repeatable lyrics and catchphrases, are more likely to be privileged.  

Additionally, the tension between societal norms and creative freedom is increasingly fraught. The National Arts Council has banned a number of songs under the premise that they do not align with the country’s morals. In 2023, the Council released guidelines for the observance of ethics in art—a manual of sorts for artists—that doubled down on the Council’s stance and preserved its ability to enforce consequences for violations. “Mwalimu” by Kontawa, “Amkeni” by Ney Wa Mitego, and the music video for “Ameyatimba” by Mbosso are some of the recently released works that fall outside of the Council’s code of ethics. 

The “Ameyatimba” music video, understandably, roused unified backlash for perpetuating rape culture, with the majority agreeing with the council’s decision to take it down. Other songs have been met with split opinions. Ney Wa Mitego’s “Amkeni,” a song critical of the country’s leadership, landed the rapper in court, charged with provoking dissent. Some agreed that he went too far, while others thought the charges were a strike against freedom of speech.

Between global shifts, structural hindrances, and legal enforcement, the space for Bongo Flava artists to take on the role of commentators seems to be shrinking. And, unfortunately, it doesn’t look like the current mainstream artists are pushing against these barriers. It is not clear whether their seeming complacency is a genuine reflection of their own politics, or an alignment necessary for advancing and securing financial success in the industry. Whatever the case, the mainstream class of Bongo Flava artists is the status quo, with no sign of budging.