Davido on stage (Photo by Roger Kisby/Getty Images)

In Conversation: Davido Speaks on Nigerian and South African Unity, The Grammys and His 'Secret' Film Project (Hint: It's a Sequel)

While in South Africa, we met with Davido to talk about his album, ‘A Good Time’, Burna Boy's awards snub, and on 'trolling' fans

When South African and Nigerian artists got into heated exchanges during last September's xenophobic attacks, many wondered if the relationship between Nigerian artists and their South African fans would be forever damaged. Both Tiwa Savage and Burna Boy went on to pull out of several scheduled South African performances in protest and the "Africans Unite" concert, an attempt to bring everyone together, never materialized.

So it makes perfect sense that Davido, who refused to join the back and forth, is the first Nigerian superstar to make an appearance in the country since the ordeal.

"We're all friends," Davido says about South African artists. "We all grew up doing music together, so for me it was just something I really didn't want to touch on because I knew that there would be a day where we would all laugh about it."

We met up with The Prince of Afrobeats at his label's offices in Johannesburg amidst the flurry of activity that follows him wherever he goes, to ask him about South Africa, his album, Burna's snub at the Grammys and the big film project.

And while his lips remain firmly sealed about the film itself, it's rumored that Davido will be a part of the Coming 2 America cast alongside Eddie Murphy, Arsenio Hall, James Earl Jones, Paul Bates and South African actress Nomzamo Mbatha.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

After the xenophobic attacks last year, Tiwa and Burna Boy were quite upset. How would you describe your relationship with the South African audience and how does it feel to be back here?

I've learned to control my temper because when you're mad, you kind of say things you don't mean. South Africa and Nigeria have always had a close relationship when it comes to music. I've been coming to South Africa since I was 17 trying to make it. I've been coming here. I understand how Burna might feel or how Tiwa might feel. I also understand how AKA might feel. You know with social media, with fans getting in the middle of it, it makes it worse. We're all friends. We all grew up doing music together so for me it was just something I really didn't want to touch on because I knew that there would be a day where we would all laugh about it. As Africans, if we fight, how are we going to come together and conquer, you feel me?

How do you feel your album, A Good Time, has been received so far?

It's been a long time coming, you know? I've been known to release singles. So, it was about time for me to put all the great songs that I've released in a body of work. From "If," "Fall" to "Assurance," I just feel like those songs were so big that they needed to belong to a catalog. It's been received great as well—charted all over the world. The videos are going crazy. Streams are going crazy. Just so many good things happening at once. We did a concert to celebrate the album in Nigeria on December 27th. We're about to go on tour to celebrate the album.

Listen to Davido's latest album, "A Good Time".

When you were accepting your award at the 2018 BET Awards, you told everybody to "come to Africa to collaborate". What collaborations have come as the result of that speech?

They listened. Every collaboration that came after that speech, I feel like that speech had something to do with it. I was just tired of the hearsay. "I heard it's beautiful down there," "I hear that..." and I'm like, "Yo, fuck hearing it. Come experience it yourself." This past December a lot of people came down to Nigeria. Cardi came, Megan Thee Stallion, Future—Ghana was crazy.

For people to come down themselves and just experience the culture first hand, it's way different from seeing it on TV or seeing it on Instagram or social media. When you come here to experience it yourself, it gives you a different outlook on African music and African culture as a whole.

You've had quite a lot of successful hits. Why did you want to include "If", "Fall" and "Assurance" on this particular album?

Most of the songs that's on the album were recorded in 2018. It wasn't like that was actually the album I had. But I just really didn't think that was the right time to put out the album. Even most of my greatest hits are not on the album like "Aye," "Skelewu," or "Gobe." It's always good to have a body of work that's presentable. "Fall" and "If" had to go on the album, definitely. Those were the songs that really catapulted my career into another space.

With "Assurance," that was actually a smart move for me putting that on the album. It's going to be in a big movie coming soon, a Hollywood movie that I'm in performing the song. And I knew when the movie comes out everybody's going to be looking for the song. So I was like I'm not trying to have people looking for the song, I'm going to just put it on the album.

Can you talk about the movie at all?

I'm kind of not allowed to. But it has to do something with Africa and it's a big movie. It's coming out this year. It's a part-two of a big movie. It's huge.

There's a lot of talk around the Grammys not properly recognizing rising African talent especially. What do you think?

People our age and our generation were focusing on the Grammys obviously because of Burna. It's the first time a new generation of Afro-Pop artists are being nominated in that category. We felt like damn, it would've been a good story for him, for Afrobeats, for just everything. But we can't ignore Angelique Kidjo and what she's doing. Think about it, she's been nominated nine times?

This is Burna's first nomination. I'm sure he's going to be getting nominated again. It's not going to be the first time any artist or Nigerian artist or African artist will have the opportunity to win. Yes her music is accepted because that's really what they listen to—more classical stuff. But at the end of the day, these younger dudes like us are really what's running shit right now.

Do you think African artists should even care about the Grammys?

With me it's like, it hurts being that close to it. A lot of big American artists don't have Grammys. And not because they don't deserve it, but they just haven't had an opportunity. Burna's album came out at the right time and just stuck. I feel like being that close to it and not really getting it, it's a blow to everybody. But somebody's going to get it.

Davido with OkayAfrica Staff Davido posing with staff at the OkayAfrica offices in 2019Photo: OkayAfrica

Going back to your album and the single "Risky" with Popcaan, the track was very different to your signature sound. Was that intentional?

Funny enough, with "Risky," I blame the label too because it took me somewhere else. I just got there and they're like, "Yo alright let's go, Davido, boom!" I don't rap, I'm not a rapper. It was a joke to me and I was just having fun. Then, the way they chopped it up made it seem crazy. It came out and the internet went crazy. "Yo Davido can't freestyle" and all that. I don't even care because I'm a troll myself. Before I was myself, I used to troll artists, so I don't care about that. I was just sitting in the studio with my producer and it was like let's turn this shit into a song. Just sat down and we did that shit... Boom! Brought the beat and it was like three different versions of "Risky."

How did you get to the version that's on the album?

I wanted something very, very sexy. Just something opposite where people would be like he really switched it up. I did a hip-hop version where I actually wrote bars and rapped, and then I did an Afrobeat one. When I did that one with Popcaan, I felt like it was perfect. It was really bouncy and different for me. I've never had something like that before so I was like I'm going to go with this one.

Would you say this album is your best work yet as Davido?

I don't know how to say it's my best work yet. You look at the songs like "If," "Fall," "Assurance," "Blow My Mind," "Risky" all on one album and it's a lot. Some artists have just one of those songs in their whole career.

And I don't plan it. I think that's the more important thing for an artist. When the label gives you, "We need your album in two months," and then you're in the studio trying to create something that you're forcing. If I didn't get forced to freestyle that day I wouldn't have "Risky."

I just do my music and see how life goes.

Photo courtesy of Sam Soko.

Interview: Sam Soko is the Kenyan Director Behind Sundance Hit, 'Softie'

We meet filmmaker Sam Soko who has made a stirring documentary about the Kenyan protest leader Boniface Mwangi

Filmmaker Sam Soko didn't intend on making a documentary about Kenyan photojournalist-turned-politician Boniface Mwangi.

The original idea he had was to make a manual of sorts, a short video guide, on how to protest, the do's and don't's. Soko, himself an activist artist who cut his teeth convincing friends to let him create political music videos for their apolitical songs, knew Mwangi's experience on the streets both photographing protests and staging them meant he had a lot to share with others.

But then came the blood. A thousand litres of it, to be precise. And the pigs. Dozens of them, with words like MPigs written on them. Like the graphic photos Mwangi had become known for taking—it was a sight you couldn't look away from. It was a protest Mwangi organized, in 2013, to decry corrupt members of the Kenyan parliament who had decided to increase their salaries, 2 months after taking office. And at his side, through the thick red liquid of it all, was Mwangi's wife, Njeri, ready to be arrested with him.

"Once I was witness to his relationship, I started seeing him as a family man," Soko tells OkayAfrica. "Because he's planning a protest and all, but when you look at the footage, you start seeing the kids and you start seeing Njeri. That's when it started hitting me, in the sense, that she was with him in such a crazy space."

Soko met Mwangi through the creative and activist hub he created called PAWA 254, as they became part of the groundswell demanding democratic reforms in a country still left scarred from the division sewed between Kikuyu and Luo people by British colonizers. "We had a new Constitution at the time, and there was this hope that we finally could picket without being tear-gassed or being beaten, Like, our civil liberties could be held up." Instead, the government strengthened its police force into a notorious organization condemned by human rights activists. "That's very salient in the film," says Soko. "If you see how the police dress, for instance, at the beginning, it's very different; they become more militant towards the end."

Soko's debut feature-length documentary, Softie, which became the first Kenyan film to ever premiere at the Sundance Film Festival, earlier this year, is at once a love story between Mwangi and his wife and their three children, but also between Mwangi and his beloved Kenya, under president Uhuru Kenyatta. Central to the film is the tussle between how these different loves bump up against each other: what comes first — love of country or love of family?

We spoke to the Nairobi-based director about making the film, which opens in virtual cinemas, starting this Friday, September 18th.

Boniface Mwangi with his wife Photo courtesy of Sam Soko

OA: Early on in the film, we learn how steadfast Boniface Mwangi is — he talks about being willing to die for the ideals he believes in, which made me think of Nelson Mandela and his Rivonia Treason Trial speech. Boniface is someone in the present day who still shares this belief?

When we were working on the edit, and kind of crafting and thinking about what the story was going to be, something that we found that was really, really interesting is, with a lot of the stories, like the story of Nelson Mandela, you'd never see the other side. That's something we see later, up ahead, as a retrospective. We'd hear about Martin Luther King and then we'd read about Coretta Scott in, I think, 1990, like, 'Oh, this his was her struggle.' That sort of thing. But for me, Boniface and Njeri represented a present day reality struggle that showcases what Mandela was going through, what Martin Luther was going through. That was kind of like unravelling the curtain; when you see Martin Luther marching, Coretta's at home, trying to help their kids do their homework. And this is the reality.

OA: And the film poses that question of love for your country versus love for your family, and which one should come first?

Exactly. They see it in different ways. Boniface sees it that if you improve the country, you improve the lives of those who you love. Njeri's like, you have to have your family's back first. And that means everything else comes second. And she's right; she's not wrong. And he's not wrong.

OA: The film really is privy to some really private moments in Mwangi's life — how did you gain his trust?

When we started filming the short video, he was really involved with the protests, and we started doing the protests with him. So we were—quote, unquote—in the trenches with him in the protests, and somehow that's how he kind of welcomed us to his home. When you've been with someone in the streets, and you're tear-gassed together more than once, you already have a common bond. But then I started developing a relationship with him that was beyond the streets. Just checking up on him and asking, what's going on, what's taking place? That sort of thing. I think it took a while. And I think even from Njeri, we kind of developed a kind of camaraderie that was separate from my relationship with Boniface, because I would actually be like, 'Hey, he said that, how does that make you feel?' And not necessarily on camera. But over time, he kind of accepted us to be there with a camera. At some point, I kind of felt like they were talking to me, and not necessarily the camera; like, the camera is kind of this thing that's there, but not there. That kind of trust, again, was built on a respect that I have for them and their values and what they're doing. I think that's something they saw. It made them trust me with their story and trust me with their family.

You're the director of the film, but you're also producer, writer and cinematographer. Did Boniface's own style as a photojournalist influence you in any way?

The film has more than one cinematographer, and a lot of my cinematography is within the intimate moments, because that's when they would only engage with someone they trust. But him being a photographer actually, to a point, made the work a bit hard because he's constantly looking at how you're doing it. He's in your face about the angle. He's like, 'Hey, why are you standing there, you should be there.' But in some places he did help 'cause he's been filming in the streets and filming protests for a very long time. So when you're there filming, he'll easily tell you, 'Dude, don't stand there. They're about to start tear-gassing. Go to the other side.' And it's weird, when you're on the other side and you're filming, and all of a sudden you see tear gas, you wonder, 'How the hell did he know?' You do that 234 times and you start knowing yourself, 'Oh, this is how,' and he was really helpful in that sense.

I can imagine that filming during the protests must have been one of the big challenges of making this film but what else did you struggle with? There were death threats for Mwangi, did that happen to you as well?

It's so funny, when you're filming and when you're in the protests, it's adrenaline talking. So you're not really thinking about whether you're going to be okay. This one time, I got arrested because the cop said I was a spy for the protesters. [We had everything] from cameras breaking to sound equipment messing up, but when it became a more political story, with death threats, it became scary even for editing the film. Because you don't know who's watching you. This one time, I was with him in the car, filming, and we were being followed. So we kind of had to be very careful who we are telling about the story. It was a very deep secret that we were making this film and there are people who are watching it now asking, 'How could you keep this from us from all these years?' Because we had to do that. Especially when the family was in the US. We had to do that for the sake of safety for him, Boniface, for his family but also the film team. I remember doing the pitches with different names. But then we were also lucky that we had our co-producing partner in Canada, Eye Steel Film, so they were able to house the edit there. I went to Canada to edit and that kind of also gives you a kind of freedom to think and work and create. That was the reality, and now I think we have PTSD from the film. I can't film another protest. I'm sorry. I'm out. Like, it tapped me out.

There are similarities to the Black Lives Matter protests here in the US, against police brutality and violence but the slogan takes on a different resonance in places like Kenya, where the police force is particularly heavy-handed. How do you see these protests as being similar but also different?

There are two things that you learn with the film. One, our voices can never be silenced. They will try, but I think humanity is like a pressure cooker. The more you boil us, the more you put that heat, the more explosive we become. And through people like Boniface's life, you see that there are human beings who exist, who do extraordinary things.

The other thing is the idea of activism doesn't necessarily just speak to the person who's on the street. It doesn't necessarily speak to the person who's holding the placard. An activist is someone like Njeri and her life, and her family. And Khadija [Mohamed, Mwangi's campaign manager]. She's such a strong and powerful activist in her own right. She was Boniface's campaign manager for free. The work they did was so powerful. And you have these other people in the background who are doing such incredible things. The sum total of what they've done is [to] instigate… We have an election next year, but I am so sure that we are going to have so many candidates who are going to be like, 'We want you to donate to our campaign. We have these values and beliefs; this is what we want to do.' That is how we need to go about change or add on to the conversations of change.

The same thing that's happening with the Black Lives Matters movement. Yes, there are people going to the street and we should keep going to the street. But we need to push people to engage in policy and make sure these policy changes are made.

We need to stand for what we believe in, as filmmakers in spaces where we feel oppression exists. Like the rules that have come out with the Academy Awards, these are rules that should be celebrated because they add on to that conversation of diversity and representation. All these things—that sum total—is what makes the difference. It's going beyond the streets and going beyond our Tweets, going beyond our Facebook messages, making films and sharing films. We just need to keep pumping up the volume, keeping the heat up, keep pushing. It's gonna take a while, but we'll get there.

Photojournalist-turned-politician Boniface Mwangi during a protest in Nairobi, Kenya Photo courtesy of Sam Soko

That's where you as a filmmaker come in—this film was the first Kenyan film to get into Sundance, where it won a special editing prize.

There's another film I'm producing and, and, yes, I had my film at Sundance, that's great. But there's this other filmmaker who's making another film, and it's so cool, and this is the thing—we need to keep bouncing off this energy and this light and this vibe, and just keep pushing and making sure that the wheels keep turning. That's what we're all about.

How do you renew your strength, as a filmmaker but also as a Kenyan and as an African?

Being a Kenyan is hard. I think being an African is hard. Like, it's hard. There's a line I heard Boniface say once: 'I love my country, but I am afraid of my government.' But the way in which, personally, I find energy is when I meet new filmmakers, or you know, people who are like starting out and they want to make films that sound totally crazy. And they believe that they can do it. And I'm like, 'yes, yes, keep going!' We are planning to do a premiere. We have not confirmed the date yet but we're thinking it's around going to be early October in Kenya, because Kenyans haven't watched it. The government gave us an adult rating.

This is the same government that banned Wanuri Kahiu's Rafiki because of its homosexual theme…

Exactly, that's what we're getting but the lemonade that we've made out of all this is, 'Guess what? This is cinema!' We're going to take it to a cinema. People are going to come to watch it in a cinema or watch it at home or watch it in the best way possible. And the people who've watched it have appreciated it as a film and a story, and their story. They've seen a reflection of themselves. That gives me so much joy because the Kenyans who've watched it, when they give you feedback, they say, this is truth; this is our truth. And they don't see just an activist. They see a couple struggling with love. They see our history in the last 10 years. And they're like, 'What the hell, we lived this?' and they see the things that are unresolved — and many things are unresolved. Seeing that reaction gives me so much strength and hope. But it's hard. It's very hard. Because, you know, you have to wake up and see the policeman getting a bribe. And you're like, 'Homie??'

"SOFTIE" Movie Poster

Watch the trailer for Softie here.

Softie | Official Trailer | A film by Sam Soko www.youtube.com

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