I’m on the Thika Super Highway, headed to Juja
It’s dark outside, but I leave my window open, loving how the wind feels against my face. My brother and I had a quick sesh before I left for home, and the THC is just now kicking in. Gengetone music is blasting from the speakers, and as I nod my head along to the bassline, something my brother once said to me comes to mind.
“Why do artists feel the need to mention the fact that they smoke weed in every single song they write? Like, do they run out of subject matter, or what?”
I’m a musician who makes rap music, and I have mentioned weed in my songs from time to time, so I get a little defensive. I argue that it’s all about normalizing the use of cannabis. When we spread awareness, we help people understand what cannabis is and what it isn’t, which goes a long way in reducing the stigma associated with it.
“Because otherwise, people look at us like we’re smokin’ crack!”
I proclaim, passionately. He’s not convinced. “I can live with that. My problem is that young, influential artists are making catchy songs about ‘how great weed is’ and ten-year-old kids are dancing and singing along to them.” I concede, saying that I see how that can be an issue, pass the joint back to him, and change the subject. But as I sit in this matatu, vibing to the music, his point is proven. Pretty much every song alludes to smoking weed or mentions it outright.
I look around me. A group of young campus kids, drunk as sailors, are having a great time, singing along to every lyric. But besides them, and myself, everyone else is a middle-aged person clearly on their way home from work. For the most part, everyone’s either on their phone or looking out the window. Unperturbed. Just a few years ago, the mere mention of cannabis would have had heads turning. Today, weed is so deeply embedded in Kenyan culture that it’s become impossible to escape it. More importantly, even those who do not understand it have slowly come to accept it.
“And that’s why,” I should have argued, “everyone’s making songs and films about weed. The culture inspired the art, and not the other way around.”
While he may feel otherwise, I believe it’s a feat to be celebrated that we’ve single-handedly reframed cannabis from a taboo ‘narcotic’ to a cultural symbol of resistance, wellness, pleasure, and creativity. Here’s some context to give you an idea of how much ground we’ve covered.
Colonial Hangover: The Legal Backdrop
Before the British arrived in Kenya to gift us various goodies, among them displacement, segregation, and canvas safari boots, we all smoked weed. Different communities had different names for the herb, and communal festivals where people got high on ‘bangi’ and local booze, played music, danced, and played-fought were commonplace.
In 1914, several years after the British took over, they passed the Dangerous Drugs Ordinance, which made the possession and use of cannabis illegal. This law was later incorporated into the Penal Code, and cannabis became a criminalized substance. However, despite the legal consequences, cannabis use continued to be a part of Kenyan culture.
Fast forward to today, and cannabis is still illegal in Kenya. However, the cultural acceptance and normalization of its use have made it almost impossible to eradicate. It has become a symbol of resistance against colonial laws and a way for communities to connect and celebrate their heritage.
So, while some may criticize the constant mention of weed in music and media, it’s important to recognize the role it has played in reshaping our cultural identity and challenging oppressive laws. And as we continue to push for legalization and educate others about the benefits of cannabis, we can celebrate the progress we’ve made in changing perceptions and breaking down stigmas.
