The Immortalization of Musa Juma

Superfans and the Power of Legacy

Musa Juma, a luminary in Luo Benga and Rumba music, left an indelible mark on Kenyan music. His life, artistry, depth, and work continue to resonate long after his passing, not merely preserved in (his) records but also through the devotion of his superfans.

In particular, cultural commentators like Lydia Owuor (known as @lydia_jaber on TikTok and Twitter) demonstrate how contemporary fandom overcomes traditional boundaries, becoming a potent force of cultural preservation, engagement, and collective memory.

The Role of Superfans in Immortalizing Artists

Superfans like Lydia are emblematic of a phenomenon increasingly visible in modern music culture. Meticulously curating and disseminating Musa Juma’s musical heritage, Lydia exemplifies the synthesis of passion and scholarship. Through her storytelling, archival explorations, and personalized narratives about Juma’s songs, band members, and inspirations, she has created a vibrant, digital space for the artist’s legacy.

Her animated recounting of Juma’s songs—merged with historical insights and community interactions—has nurtured a thriving online community. She has also revived Spotify and Apple Music Accounts for Musa Juma and his brother Omondi Tonny, further creating select-playlists to share with the world. How incredible. This effort reflects what scholars term “participatory fandom,” a concept where fans actively shape the narrative and legacy of artists rather than passively consuming their art​.

The tradition of fans championing their idols is not new. From the Beatlemaniacs of the 1960s to Taylor Swift’s Swifties today, superfans have long been the lifeblood of the legacies of artists. However, digital music streaming sites and platforms and social media have amplified this phenomenon.

Platforms like TikTok, with its global reach and algorithmic connectivity, empower individuals like Lydia to build international audiences and foster communities around niche interests. NyaMuron, as her bio reads ties Lydia to Musa Juma’s life in the sugarbelt region in Nyanza and lyrics (such as the evocative "Muhoroni Mambo Yote"), priming authenticity and intimacy to her work, anchoring Juma’s global appeal in local specificity​.

A Historical Context of Superfan Impact

In the global music landscape, superfans have redefined artist-fan relationships. Initiatives like BowieNet and Prince’s NPG Music Club in the 1990s anticipated the economic and creative potential of fan-driven platforms. Today, examples like Patreon and Fave underscore how superfans not only sustain the careers of artists but also actively participate in shaping them​, their legacy. In Lydia’s case, her dedication parallels movements like those surrounding Fela Kuti in Nigeria or Celia Cruz in Cuba, where fan communities became custodians of artistic and cultural legacies.

Musa Juma’s Legacy Through the Lens of Memory and Nostalgia

For many fans, the connection to Musa Juma extends beyond the music to deeply personal memories. For me, Wuod Kajimbo by Tony Omondi, Juma’s brother, evokes in me memories of longing for my grandma’s home in Nyakach. I had been away for months, living with a guardian; the bar lights, guitar melodies, hazy drunk chatter, distant screeches of Kamolo Bus heading to Usenge and the scent of Pilsner beer. These sensory details underscore the power of music to act as a repository for collective and individual histories. This aligns with theories of music as “nostalgic memory work,” where songs become markers of personal and cultural identity.

Superfans often navigate the intersections of memory, identity, and community. Lydia’s work underscores this by uncovering forgotten versions of Juma’s songs and sharing anecdotes that deepen the connections of listeners to his music. Her approach mirrors academic arguments about the role of “fandom memory” in preserving cultural histories, where superfans act as archivists and storytellers​.

Challenges and Critiques of Superfan Dynamics

While the role of superfans in preserving legacies is invaluable, it invites critical examination. Over-reliance on superfans for cultural preservation risks uneven representation, as narratives may privilege certain voices or interpretations. Additionally, the emotional and financial investments required of superfans can create challenges of sustainability​. Balancing the contributions of superfans with broader institutional support—such as festivals, legacy shows, anniversaries, archives, museums, and academic studies—is essential to ensure a comprehensive preservation of cultural legacies.

The legacy of Musa Juma exemplifies the symbiotic relationship between artists and their superfans. It underscores the transformative potential of fandom. These superfans not only celebrate Juma’s artistry but also link his work to contemporary life, ensuring his music remains vital and relevant.

As a memoirist and music critic, I hope my reflections bridge the personal and historical, offering a lens through which to explore how music shapes and is shaped by memory, culture, and community. The stories—whether of Lydia’s TikTok tributes or my own recollections—invite the world to consider the profound ways in which music endures, not just in sound but in the hearts and actions of those who give it a lifeline.

Musa Juma Through Music and Superfans

As earlier introduced, the late Musa Juma stands as an enduring figure in the history of Kenyan music, a name that evokes reverence, nostalgia, and cultural pride among fans and music scholars alike. As the frontman of Limpopo International Band, he was more than a musician; he was a storyteller, a custodian of Luo culture, and a pioneer in professionalizing Kenyan band music. His compositions explored themes of love, grief, friendship, cultural critique, and sociopolitical edutainment yet always anchored in the lived experiences of his community. Thirteen years after his passing, Musa’s music continues to resonate, thanks in no small part to superfans who have taken it upon themselves to preserve and promote his legacy.

Themes in Musa Juma’s Music

Musa Juma’s music is a masterclass in (Luo) cultural depth, humanity and sophistication. Songs like Christina, which remains one of his most iconic love songs, brimming with adoration and reverence, highlight his ability to merge the personal with the abstract:

“Christina mama, baby hera Mungu gi raha, honey nenang’iyo hodo, Kisumu Pacho.”
(“Darling Christina, love, God, and joy, I was so fond of you.”)

Here, Juma weaves love and spirituality, emphasizing the sanctity of relationships as divinely ordained:

“Gimane Nyasaye oseketo e chunye okanokethre.”
(“What God has already ordained cannot be broken.”)

In Saida, his poetic prowess is undeniable. The song serenades a lover with trust and reassurance:

“Baby ionge paro maricho mama. Baby ionge nyiego mama.”
(“Baby, you do not have bad thoughts. Baby, you don’t have jealousy.”)

Such songs reveal Musa’s tender and distinct approach to songwriting, one that captivated listeners who find echoes of their own emotional worlds in his songs.

Eulogy and Nostalgia in Rapar Owino and Ratego Baba

Musa’s introspective and melancholic side shines in songs like Rapar Owino and Ratego Baba. These compositions dig deeper into personal loss and remembrance, painting reliable portraits of grief and familial love. In Rapar Owino, he laments:

“Jowadwa pinyni nene mudho, walalo wuodwa meahero ahinya.”
(“Oh my people, this world darkens; we lost our son whom we loved so much.”)

Similarly, Ratego Baba is a heartfelt ode to his late father:

“Tabu mwaneno kodi wiwa kaniwilgo. Sand mineno epinyka nyasaye nochuli e polo mali.”
(“The struggles we saw together we won’t forget. The suffering you endured in this world, may God reward you in the heavens above.”)

Musa’s introspective genius shines brightest in Rapar Owino and Ratego Baba, my personal favorites. These songs, steeped in grief and remembrance, capture the raw emotions of loss with unparalleled eloquence. I played Ratego Baba on the day we laid my uncle Freddie to rest in 2020. Listening to it now, I am still moved to tears. Paired with the mournful yet soothing melody, it evokes a sense of shared grief, as if he is mourning alongside you. His ability to articulate the inexpressible ache of loss makes these songs timeless, a balm for the grieving soul.

Such tracks not only demonstrate the depth of Musa’s personal losses but also connect with those experiencing their own grief, making them timeless anthems of sorrow and rapar.

Freddy as An Ode to Friendship and Loyalty

When Musa mourns in Ratego Baba, singing “Akwani Ruodh Oganda mondo omedi ndalo?// Kamigolowae bor sana baba//Taabu mwanenokodi wiwakanowilgo//Sand minwang'e piny kae Nyasaye nochuli… e polo malo,” I feel a shiver run through me. An almost uncontrollable urge arises, to hold my late uncle Freddie one last time. I loved him dearly. It is no wonder MJ’s song stirs something deep within me, tender and raw, brushing against the intangible boundary of loss and the forbidden layers of grief. Suddenly, I feel as though I can love him once more, as freeing as if he were still here.

Music, I realize, allows us this fragile, beautiful permission to remember. It becomes a bridge and a chance to redeem the quality of connection we thought we had lost forever. In this mystic wonder, we find ourselves asking: Do those who have transitioned still listen to us? Do they watch? Do they know how deeply we loved them? And, perhaps more hauntingly, do they see how hard we try to honor their memory, to keep them alive in spirit, even as we too inch closer to that ultimate reunion?

MJ’s music has become a communion with the past, a space where love, memory, and longing groove. They remind us of persistent connection in remembrance, and that there is love renewed in what art inspires. In Freddy, Musa pays tribute to Fred Afune of Royal Media and other close friends and patrons, including Tom Msando, Macharia Gikonyo, and Okidi Eliakim. The song is a tribute to the relationships that sustained him; friendships rooted in loyalty and mutual respect. Musa’s ability to elevate personal connections into universal stories of honored connections speaks to his gift as both a musician and a storyteller and, further, his place as a friend (to us and the friends he composed music for).

On Love and Saida

Saida holds a special place in my heart, not only for its enchanting quality but for the personal memories it evokes. Nikki Keza adored this song, often serenading me with its verses in her charmingly imperfect mix of Kinyarwanda and French. Undeterred by hrr poor grasp of Dholuo, she would coo softly, trying to mimic Musa’s gentle cadence:

“Saida lando, jaherana mama. Baby ionge paro maricho mama, bany ionge nyiego mama”
(“Saida, beautiful one, my lover. Baby, you do not have bad thoughts. Baby, you don’t have jealousy.”)

The simplicity of these lyrics belies their profound emotional touch. Saida is a celebration of love untainted by doubt or despair, a pure and joyful affirmation of affection. This song is a soundtrack to some of my most memorable moments of laughter and closeness. I too would find myself with unriddled joy and playfulness, soothing my Keza with it.

Siaya Kababa-Hellena Transplant

Though Siaya Kababa is widely regarded as a tribute to Siaya), being Musa Juma’s homeland and cultural cradle, its heart lies in an introspective lament of a lover yearning for the warmth of his beloved. Musa’s opening lines paint a picture of loving so tender, it personifies home itself:

"Babyna babyna, wang’iyo gi kinda ah mama.
Lando oserunda ma wiya bara, kawuona anyisu e,
Paro osechanda ma lit osiko, jahera akuyo a baby.
Lando lando Achieng mama raguel ka mbuta toto Kisumu.”

In classic Luo romantic rizz, these lyrics are rich with admiration and metaphor. He describes Achieng’s beauty with a playful yet reverent charm:

"Nyako ma dende chalo nguva ya Mombasa,”
(“A girl whose figure rivals the curves of Mombasa mermaids”).

Her elegance, sculpted by artsy gods, is unmatched, a beauty so mesmerizing it haunts his memory. In smooth and effortless way, Musa elevates her to mythic stature, blending flattery with heartfelt longing. The song evolves into a tender plea. Despite the passage of time—despite Achieng having borne children—he begs her to return to him in Usonga, to soothe his aching heart. In a line that refines vulnerability and devotion, Musa sings:

"Nyaka ma chunye chalo pi soko Achi na,"
(“Only you can calm this torment, my Achieng”).

The guitar rendition matches the emotional intensity of the lyrics. Its smooth, intricate melodies recall the golden era of Musa’s performances at Carnivore and other celebrated venues, where audiences came to experience the kind of soul-soothing brilliance only Limpopo International could deliver.

Siaya Kababa is a layered composition that blends personal yearning with collective memory. Musa seamlessly transitions into a reflective section; mourning Luo political icons whose assassinations scarred the community:

"Be gipare Tommy tinayuagie mbuya,
Be gipare Seda, Ouko Liech mokado."
(“Do they remember Tommy Mbuya, and Seda Ouko, our great fallen sons”).

In these lines, Musa embodies the role of a musical historian, fusing the personal and political into a revolting narrative. His mourning is not just for his lost lover, but also for the communal loss of Luo sons whose brilliance was cut short. The song then crescendos into a warm serenade, where Musa’s focus shifts to his family and Siaya’s enduring legacy. Inquiring about whether Achi will honour him and his sisters, mother, brothers, and father, with a visit. He sings with a mix of fondness and persuasion:

"Benichope Songa nyakisumu masanga?
Benichope Siaya nyakisumu masanga?"

The repetition feels intimate, as if Musa is speaking directly to his lover, reminding her of the unbreakable ties that bind them to one another and to their shared sense of belonging. Each name he mentions—Betty, Jackie, Mama Alego, Baba Jausonga, and more—are actual tributes to his love for family and community. MJ's gift lies in his ability blend personal love stories with cultural and political narratives. Whether serenading a lost lover, documenting cultural critique, mourning political martyrs, or celebrating friendships, he speaks to universal experiences through the lens of Luo identity. In all its versions, this song reminds us why Musa remains revered in his craft. His ability to enact love, loss, memory, and commentary into a single piece leaves a legacy that remains relevant, soothing souls and stirring perspectives long after his voice has faded from the stage.

The Unofficial Mix of Benga and Romance

One of my favorite renditions of Siaya Kababa-Hellena is an unofficial mix, likely crafted by a fan or DJ. It introduces an organic fluidity that amplifies the song’s emotional intensity. Ken Watenya, Limpopo International’s powerhouse vocalist, takes the stage with his classical Benga flair, adding nostalgia and passion to the composition.

Male Benga artists often sing about lovers who have gone, becoming reluctant victims of heartbreak. Musa’s approach, however, carries an emotional negotiation, longing, and regret, but stops short of outright confession of wrongdoing. Instead, the emphasis lies on reconciliation and renewal.

Watenya’s verse amplifies this sentiment, he opens the song:

"Mpenzi wangu nakuwaza, ang’o momiyo awinjo lit?
Seche te kawuotho e ndara, tachalo ng’at molal."
(“My love, I think of you. Why am I filled with such pain?
At times, walking on the street feels like a ghostly wandering.”)

The peak of Watenya’s part—full of raw, organic energy—is nothing short of breathtaking. The song achieves an emotional release, a climactic high that embodies both needing and fulfillment. The guitar work, vocals, and rhythmic transitions coalesce into what can only be described as pure musical catharsis.

In Hellena, Ken’s plea is heartfelt:

“Jobutere orwaki, duog aduoga Hellena mama”
(“Your in-laws from Butere welcome you home; please come back, Hellena.”)

The tenderness in his voice, combined with the poetic sting, transforms this song into a lyrical masterpiece. The line “Tuo hera lit lakinj onge yadhe, ochuno ng’amihero nyakabedie” (“Love sickness is painful and heartfelt; only the presence of the one you love soothes the aching”) captures affection and longing with unmatched poignancy.

Lessons on Love and Marriage

In Rikni Nyombo, Musa turns his gaze to the pitfalls of rushed marriages and the emotional scars of failed relationships. It is a cautionary piece, as relevant today as it was when he composed it. Musa’s ability to land life lessons into his music elevated him from a performer to a sage, offering wisdom wrapped in melody.

A Window into Musa Juma’s Legacy

13 years since Musa Juma's untimely passing on March 15, 2011, an extensive body of work has emerged, exploring his profound impact on Kenyan music and the global popularity of his band, Limpopo International. These writings—spanning mainstream media, academic journals, and social platforms—offer a view of his musical gifts, his cultural legacy, and his innovative business practices. Even after over a decade, there remain untold facets of Musa’s life and career that continue to provoke discussions and inspire deeper exploration.

MJ was a unique artist who, despite his short life, epitomized the ability to synthesize traditional Luo rhythms with contemporary influences, creating a soundscape that was both distinctly local and universally appealing. His compositions did not merely narrate experiences but also invited listeners into his world, creating a sense of intimacy and connection that few artists achieve in their careers. His music has had a lasting cultural impact, just as the way Congolese rumba or Franco’s music has shaped African popular culture (Muleka, 2018).

The Artist

Unlike many of his contemporaries who thrived on ephemeral trends, Musa’s music had an enduring quality that has allowed it to navigate multiple generations. His approach connected the melodies of the past with the rhythms of the present while anticipating the sounds of the future. His ability to "mobilize" emotions—whether through a passionate love song or a contemplative composition for an individual—was extraordinary. As Schmidt (2024) notes exploration of the pressures faced by Nairobi’s musicians makes Musa's ability to create music that resonated across ethnic and generational lines both a technical and a socio-cultural achievement.

Musa's understanding of his cultural roots, combined with his innovative spirit, allowed him to shape Luo rumba music, which (Mboya, 2021) argues provides a distinct identity for a community that is/was transitioning from traditional to modern forms of expression. His success was not merely artistic but also strategic. He brought professionalism to a field that, at the time, lacked organizational structure. The establishment of Limpopo International as a registered company, complete with marketing, production, and welfare units, set a standard that, later, many bands could only aspire to. Eagleson (2014) comments on this arguing that this contributes to the success of African music particularly in the global and corporate business aspect.

On Discipline and Standards

Musa Juma’s refusal to compromise his artistic standards is a defining aspect of his legacy. One notable example occurred in April 2008 when he canceled a scheduled performance at Ahero County Club. Initially booked for an exclusive union AGM, the event was later misrepresented as open to the general public without Juma’s consent. True to his principles, he refunded the deposit and redirected his performance to Bomas Resort that same night. This act was a reflection of the discipline and integrity that underpinned MJ’s approach to music and performance.

His career was shaped by a meticulous attention to detail, especially regarding the environments where he performed. Early in his journey, his choice of venues—Limpopo (Nyalenda), Junction Inn (Mamboleo), and Friends Corner (Muhoroni)—was deliberate. These establishments attracted respectable patrons, a critical factor for Juma, who prioritized professionalism, safety and comfort of his band and audience. This standard extended to larger venues like Bomas Resort, which became synonymous with his Kisumu shows. Such choices reflect Juma’s awareness of the relationship between music and its setting, underscoring the experiential nature of live performances (Barz, 2001).

Musa’s brief tenure in Mombasa highlighted his unwillingness to compromise when conditions did not align with his vision. As such, his association with Hosea Songa’s Solar Africa in mid-1990s showed the transformative impact of his talent. Without Juma or his brother, Omondi Tonny, Solar Africa struggled to establish a cohesive sound, underscoring their indispensable role in shaping the band’s identity. Eagleson (2014) highlights the centrality of such individual contributions in transforming Benga music, where distinct compositional identities often define the genre’s innovation and evolution.

Professionalism and Legacy

What set Musa Juma apart was not just his musical talent but his approach to the music business. At a time when many African musicians undervalued their work, Musa stood as a pillar of professionalism. He was one of the first Benga musicians to distinctively and visibly treat his art as a business, maintaining an organized band structure that mirrored corporate principles. The management of bands with distinct units for finance, marketing, and welfare, marked a revolutionary shift in the way local African bands operated, providing an organizational model that would later influence the management practices of subsequent bands (Gecau, 1995; Mwangi, 2023). This includes world tours in the US and Europe, organized events across the country and consistent patronized performances where his fans frequented.

Musa Juma’s insistence on maintaining high standards reflects broader themes in the professionalization of Kenyan bands/music. Unlike many contemporaries, Juma’s Limpopo International Band operated as a structured entity with clear divisions of labor, including marketing, production, and finance units. This structure, rare in an industry often characterized by informal operations, positioned Juma as a pioneer in managing music as a business (Muleka, 2018). His refusal to perform in unsafe or disorganized venues was not merely about personal preference; it was part of a larger ethos that prioritized respect for his art, his band, and his audience.

Such professionalism also extended to his interactions with fans and organizers. His decision to cancel the Ahero County Club performance illustrates his commitment to upholding agreements. This approach resonates with Gecau’s (1995) observation that the professionalization of popular music often intersects with broader cultural and ethical considerations, shaping public perceptions of artists’ integrity and reliability.

Musa was also known for his discipline, both on and off stage. His refusal to perform in poorly managed venues or under unsafe conditions showed his commitment to maintaining high standards for his band and his art. His insistence on integrity in business matters, such as the well-publicized incident in which he canceled a performance over a contractual dispute, further underscored his professionalism and his refusal to compromise on his values (Mwangi, 2023).

To ensure the success and growth of Limpopo International transcended his music, he understood the importance of maintaining a diversified and multicultural band, which included not only Luo musicians but also individuals from diverse ethnic groups, such as Congolese, Luhya, and Kikuyu. This diversity contributed significantly to the band's appeal, making them more than just a Luo band but a “pan-African ensemble”, a crucial ingredient in improving band visibility as Perullo (2007) supports. His ability to attract and retain a multicultural group of musicians was central to the band's success, his visionary leadership and commitment to professional development.

Connecting Innovation and Tradition

Deeply rooted in the traditions of Benga music while simultaneously pushing its boundaries, his fusion of Rumba and Benga, characterized by lyrical depth and rhythmic sophistication, marked a significant evolution in the genre. This aligns with Mboya’s (2021) argument that Benga’s development has been shaped by artists who balance ethnic identity with broader creative influences, enabling the genre to resonate across cultural and generational divides.

The venues and audiences Juma selected reflect his understanding of the cultural dimensions of music performance. Barz (2001) emphasizes that Benga performances are both musical events and multivalent processes that engage with cultural identity, social norms, and collective memory. Juma’s insistence on performing in spaces that upheld these values demonstrates his commitment to preserving the cultural essence of his art while fostering innovation.

As Muleka (2018) notes, the evolution of Benga music is inseparable from the individual contributions of artists like Juma, whose work continues to inspire and challenge contemporary musicians. Juma’s legacy is part of the blueprint for the professionalization and cultural preservation of Kenyan music.

A Lasting Influence

Even in death, Musa Juma continues to influence the music scene in Kenya and beyond. His legacy is not merely carried through his music but also through the lives and careers of those who followed him. The continuation of his artistic and business practices in the current generation of Luo musicians, which Ochieng (2023) argues is emulated by different artists in their band management style, speaks to the enduring nature of his impact.

Barz (2001) highlights how musicians like Musa Juma create a platform for musicians to address societal issues through songs while maintaining an audience that spans diverse communities. This was evident in the wide-reaching appeal of Musa's Music, which crossed geographical and ethnic lines, contributing to a more inclusive Kenyan music scene.

Musa Juma's influence on contemporary artists also highlights his exceptional ability to merge business acumen, musical talent, and cultural relevance. His music attentively drew the struggles and aspirations of his community, establishing a new paradigm for engaging with music as both an art form and a business enterprise. Comparable to legendary figures like Franco, Musa Juma’s work is poised to inspire future generations (Mboya & Wandolo, 2008). What keeps Musa Juma’s music alive today is not only its inherent brilliance but also the devotion of superfans who have become custodians of his legacy. Their tireless efforts to document, narrate, and celebrate his music have transformed digital archivists and storytellers into cultural icons.

Within the broader context of African music, Muleka (2018) discussed the hybrid nature of Benga, tracing its roots to Kenyan and Congolese influences while highlighting its ability to articulate local identity. Limpopo International Band exemplified this hybridity, blending Luo rhythms with the cosmopolitan flair of Congolese Rumba. Unlike many of his contemporaries, Musa professionalized his art, managing his band with the precision of a corporate entity. From contracts to marketing, his approach set a benchmark for other Kenyan bands, challenging the norm of informal operations (Mboya, 2009). Beyond music, Musa Juma was a cultural critic. His songs Nercelina, Sudan Mpya, Rikni Nyombo and Hera Mudho serve as zoomed lenses into daily living, lifestyles and dissected sociocultural experiences. Such compositions place Musa within a lineage of African artists who use music as a medium for social commentary, just like Hugh Masekela and Miriam Makeba among others.

Lydia Owuor may have grown up in Muhoroni’s sugar belt, but this is also, interestingly, where Musa Juma himself performed frequently, perhaps even lived, and formed bonds with friends like Abura, Clackson from Migingo, and Andrew Matoka. It’s also a place enriched by his artistry, immortalized in his lyrical nod to the town: Muhoroni Mambo Yote. Even the inspiration behind his classic Christina traces back to this vibrant community.

In my years of being a fan, there are only a handful of people I know who match Lydia’s dedication. My late uncle Freddie was one of them. Freddie, who shared a name with Musa, owned every single collection of his music. He rarely missed a performance and once clashed bitterly with his boss, refusing to miss the funeral of the artist he revered so deeply. He wept when Musa died. My Facebook friend Opiyo Odongo is a walking library of Musa Juma knowledge and a passionate Benga historian. I think of other names too—Jerome Ogola, William Okoko, Deborah Auko, Adede Owala, Oyoo Mboya, Odhiambo Kaumah, Othwes Jamabinju, and Wuon Ble—whose depth and polymathic grasp of not just music, but culture, make them a resourceful authority.

My connection to Musa Juma began like it did for many in my generation—through the advent of Royal Media’s Luo Ramogi FM. It was a golden era when Musa’s tapes played in a near-continuous loop. Programs like Top 10 with Oguyo, Kwe e Ber Budho by Adory, and Morning Breakfast hosted by the late Bernard Oluoch brought his music into our lives. Musa’s songs became the soundtrack of our youth, enchanting those simpler, sweeter times.

But on reflection, I realize I may have first encountered Musa Juma indirectly, through one of my most nostalgic Benga songs: Wuod Kajimbo. The song belonged to his brother, Tony Omondi (under Solar Afrika band). I first heard it in the late 1990s or early 2000s, at Chuny Ng’ich bar in Holo Paw Akuche, overlooking the Kisumu-Bondo Road, we lived at the plot nearby. Tony’s rich baritone, effortless guitar work, and the dim lounge lights of the bar buzzing with the hum of revelers. The sharp scent of Pilsner beer, which I particularly detested, drifted through the air. It was my first encounter with the power of their music, a moment that would later take root as a love for Musa Juma and Tonny Omondi.

Musa Juma may have left us too soon, but his spirit endures not just through his records but in the lives and efforts of those who hold his light. For us, Musa’s music is not merely entertainment. It's memory. It’s history. It’s love. It’s life.

Conclusion

Some artists fade away, many griot in the middle-grey; few burn so brightly that their flame endures, lighting the way for generations to come. Musa Juma was such a musician; he was a benga-rumba maestro who composed the soundtrack of a culture, a time, and a people.

Thirteen years after his passing, his music is surviving antiquity, meaning and the cultural critique thanks, in part, to superfans like Lydia Owuor curating his work in the contemporary setting.

From Lake Victorian patron venues, Muhoroni’s sugarbelt to Nairobi’s stages, Juma's disciplined artistry, composition, and boundary-breaking inclusivity redefined Luo Rumba. He performed and built a musical ensemble with standards that many still strive to emulate but few achieve.

How do we measure the weight of Liech with his trumpet and overcast shadow against the lowering Yimbo sunsets? Even more haunting, what justice do we call the relentless posthumous power of an artist long gone to speak, when we insist the dead must remain silent? Is it our bereft remorse, offering flowers too late, or the undeniable pulse of brilliance that refuses to die, transforming incredible artists into living legends among us?

Was it his innovation in fusing Rumba and Benga, pushing creative boundaries to heights many rightly proclaim as genius? Some of us witnessed it, alive then, and now we remember. He blessed our times, and now we summon him, answering our nostalgic call, fulfilling our cultural duty to immortalize him, an act of joining history itself.

As his brother Omondi Tonny so aptly said,

“Lazima iandikwe ili ikumbukwe.”

Musa Juma’s music is more than entertainment; it is a living archive of Luo culture, a repository of human emotions, and a beautifully enduring art. Through superfans like Lydia Owuor and the collective memories of his listeners, Musa’s legacy continues to inspire and connect us. His music, much like his life, was a journey that we, his fans, are honored to walk alongside, one song at a time.

Celebrate the Legacy

Lydia Jaber is bringing us together for an unforgettable show—an MJ Listening Party—to honor Musa Juma and the musical legacy he left behind. On December 27, 2024, at Mirok Gardens, Milimani (Kisumu), carrying us through memory, friendship, culture, and celebration.

This will be a space where everyone, especially longtime fans, meet to breathe life into antiquity. It’s a community coming alive to unite art, joy, and connection—where past meets present, and legacies are kept alive.

Join Madanji Perimeter and the Former Limpopo Band Members for an evening of great performances, community, and dance. Come share the love, the music, and the culture that reminds us of who we are and where we come from.

“Limpopo tutarudi Kisumu Lake Victoria eh...”

Secure your spot today

📅 Date: December 27, 2024
📍 Venue: Mirok Gardens, Kisumu
🎟️ Tickets: Advance 1000/3000 | Gate 1500/4000
📲 Dial *487*28# or visit viutickets.com

Don’t miss out—let’s keep Musa Juma’s fire burning!

References

Awino, C. N., & Orwa, Q. A. (2018). Music the loaded weapon: War metaphors & ethnicity in Kenyan songs. Journal of Language, Technology & Entrepreneurship in Africa, 9(1), 29-68.

Barz, G. F. (2001). Meaning in benga music of western Kenya. British Journal of Ethnomusicology, 10(1), 107-115.

Eagleson, I. (2014). Continuities and innovation in Luo song style: creating the Benga Beat in Kenya 1960 to 1995. African Music: Journal of the International Library of African Music, 9(4), 92-122.

Gecau, K. (1995). Popular song and social change in Kenya. Media, Culture & Society, 17(4), 557-575.

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