Isis Hembe is a rapper, filmmaker, poet, activist, priest, disabled person and “also a bit of a brujo”. Not necessarily in this order. He is above all an innate narrator of stories, who arises in conversation naturally and practically with the rhythm of rap, accompanied also by an insolence and a reproach that has power in Angola. “If we were a normal country, I would not be an activist,” he guarantees in an interview with this Madrid newspaper.
Hembe, 38, appeared last November in Madrid and Barcelona The Adventures of Angosatan award-winning short film whose starting point was the 2017 sending into space of a lost Angolan communications satellite. This article aims to make a sharp criticism of the authorities and to defend identity and diversity.
“It’s very difficult to speak out loud in my country. When you’re not in the media, it’s even more dangerous because you can end up in prison or disappear. But sometimes people understand that there are things more precious than their own existence and that they can’t live in isolation forever,” says Hembe, who is part of Mudei, one of the country’s main social movements.
Question. In your film you say that we always want to be where we are not. Are you talking about Angola?
Answer. My country wants to impress the international community, but it is not always attentive to our needs and we are betting on development that does not represent us. In Africa in general, as I say in the film, we are experiencing a chronic identity crisis because our countries were founded and, even when they are free, much of the discourse and social bases are marked by colonialism. They look like antennas, part of a project that is not yet finished.
P. For example?
A. I speak here in Portuguese, not my ancestral language, but my mother tongue, because I was not able to learn Umbundu. My mother is the last in the family to speak. Colonialism weighs on our personal identity and our identity as a country. We witnessed one of Africa’s longest conflicts, from 1975 to 2002, in the context of the Cold War. But when we are left alone, when foreign interests arise, we manage to talk among ourselves and sort things out more or less. Africans need this introspection and decolonize minds, emancipate our heads.
Our countries were founded and, even free, a large part of their discourse and their social bases are marked by colonialism. They look like antennas, part of a project that is not yet finished
P. Does this latent colonialism also weigh on your life as an artist?
A. Fully. We have a lot of cultural strength and great creative capacity, but few resources to develop all this potential.
P. Does the condemnation of Angola mean that it is a rich country?
A. Sometimes being rich is the worst misfortune, especially when the resources do not benefit us Angolans. Angola is like a rich lord who suddenly finds himself with a gang of friends who join him in the dance only because they are interested in his resources. We have other riches, cultural or historical heritage which are forgotten. What matters is oil and so-called rare minerals, in a context of aggression against nature. African countries, like Angola, are subject to blackmail by foreign powers, who do not care at all about our interests.
P. Does the activist speak more than the artist?
A. I come from hip hop and I believe that there is a social purpose in artistic manifestation. We believe in the power of words and art as a means of social transformation. If we were a normal country, I wouldn’t be an activist because my temperament is not like that. But things got worse.
Angola is like a rich lord who suddenly has a lot of friends joining him in the ball just because they are interested in his resources.
P. In what way?
A. We are experiencing very difficult deaths for the hip hop community and we are beginning to reflect on human rights violations and reclaim our space. First on a Facebook page, then during the 2017 elections, we began monitoring in parallel, as we were filled with votes legitimizing a despotic government. We collected a lot of information and decided not to disperse, to continue.
P. It was the embryo of Mudei, which had become an important voice in his country, a unifier of social movements.
A. I moved to lower Paraguas where many people and entities are located. The movement is growing and providing support to people who have remained on the margins of society. We are fighting to conquer space little by little. Today, we produce reports, audits, compare official data… I believe a lot in the idea of a democracy resulting from civil movements, because as there is no objective and no power, participation is much more authentic and horizontal.
P. What are the risks in Angola?
A. It is very difficult to speak out loud in my country. When you’re not in the media, you’re even more dangerous because you could end up in jail or disappear. But sometimes we understand that there are things more precious than life and that we cannot live without being crushed. That we cannot expect their destiny to be directed by a leader or a party. This doesn’t make sense.
P. How can an artist like Usted survive? For example, do you find spaces to act?
A. Artists in my country suffer from censorship, self-censorship… we have it at all. In this area, my country is also very rich (laughs). I don’t live in art the way I want to, but I don’t want to be in a photo with someone who doesn’t share my vision of life. I’m not going to sing, for example, at a festival that calms down or ignores the victims of a protest. Overall, I’m exactly where I want to be, going back to your first question.
P. Are many doors closed for this reason?
A. In the end, I always find a place to sing, in alternative places. I don’t feel persecuted, I don’t think it’s a threat. Honestly, I think they are more opposed to what I feel. I prefer to approach art with an ethical commitment and this is how I protect myself from frustration.
P. In his film there is also a very clear message about people with disabilities. Is it a personal circumstance that also marked your activism?
A. The polio was very small. During the war, I lost all my orthopedic equipment, leaving my shoes behind, as we had to move from one place to another. My disability and health problems got worse because of this, although my parents always made an effort to keep you on just a few wheels. In Angola, there are many people who are not so lucky, who live on the land, in squalid environments. Then I spent several months without leaving the house. I don’t know my calling.
In Angola, political monopoly implies the failure of all feminist agendas, of people with disabilities, of the LGTBI community. Everything is centralized and diversity is decreasing.
P. How do minorities survive in your country?
A.. In Angola, political monopoly implies the failure of all feminist agendas, of people with disabilities, of the LGTBI community. Everything is centralized and diversity has disappeared. That’s why we created a cause solidarity group, to listen to each community and see what their priorities are and move forward from there.
P.. Within this wide range of activities, who ultimately is Isis Hembe?
A. I am an existential investigator, an inventor of feelings, a child who plays and tries to smell the aroma of things. And with all this intention, I try to invent something that serves no purpose. We can live perfectly well without what I earn. Quizzes aren’t what make us human. The things that serve no purpose are the most interesting and comfort me as a disabled person. Being an artist is therefore something vital for me.
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