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From Early Rap to Modern Hip-Hop

The Senegalese national language, Wolof, emerges even today in modern American street talk or rap. ‘Xippi’ (pronounced ‘hipi’) means a person who has opened his eyes, hence ‘hip’. From ‘degga’, meaning to understand, comes ‘dig’, while ‘jiv’, which means to talk disparagingly, becomes ‘jive’. The common usage of the word ‘cat’ to describe jazz musicians could indeed come from the ‘kat’ in ‘tamakat’, meaning tama player. In Senegal, traditional rapid singing styles like tassou, taxuraan and bakh anticipated modern trends in rap music. Tassou was developed by the Laobé, a caste of hereditary court messengers, as a fast way of talking in order to disguise their criticism. Thus young Senegalese rappers immediately found their references in modern hip-hop with its strong rhythmic pulsation.

88. Ndoumbelane, Bideew Bou Bess.

In the mid to late 1990s, Youssou’s brother, Bouba N’Dour, who spotted the potential of many young Senegalese rap groups, produced albums by Daara J, Pee Froiss and Bideew Bou Bess for Jololi. He then licensed many of their tracks to Paris-based label Delabel.

In those years, when the role models were MC Solaar, who was born Claude M’Barali in Senegal of parents from Chad but grew up in France, and the ground-breaking Senegalese group Positive Black Soul (DJ Awadi and Doug E. Tee/Duggy-Tee), there was a burgeoning of rap groups in Senegal. Every street seemed to have its home crew, and each of them claimed to be the guardians of the real hip-hop. At one time it was said that Senegal came in at number three after the USA and France in the rap group league. Only some of them managed to record their material, however, and of those who did, only a handful made an impression on the international market.

MC Solaar applauds Africa’s rappers for avoiding American stereotypes and remaining totally unconcerned about bling and designer gear – they dress in African costume.1 The group Daara J, whose name means ‘the school of life’, explain that rather than become involved in the gangsta movement (hardcore hip-hop associated with American street gangs) they care about social issues and are optimistic they can lead their fans to a higher level of consciousness, hence the development of their brand of ‘conscious rap’. It was touching to hear the singer Faada Freddy say, ‘We try very hard to make every woman feel that she is a flower and we have to take care of them because they really deserve it. Women make men!’2 Leading rap artist Didier Awadi claimed when I met him in Dakar in 2012 that by raising questions about current issues and demonstrating their commitment to social change, the rappers welcomed a new political regime when Abdoulaye Wade was elected on his promise of change in 2000. They were to play an even more crucial role in the run-up to the presidential elections in April 2012.

Fatou Mandiang Diatta, alias Sister Fa, proudly defends her patch in what is a predominantly male arena. Signed to the German label Piranha, who in 2010 released her first international album, Sarabah: Tales from the Flipside of Paradise, she speaks passionately about her crusade against the cruel practice of female genital mutilation, to which she herself was subjected.

Most successful of all has been the artist Akon, son of Senegalese parents, who was born Alioune Badara Thiam in 1973 in the US. He frequently returns to Senegal, where he has a major fan base and where he has set up the educational foundation Konfidence along with footballer El Hadji Diouf. ‘Daan’, his duet with Youssou N’Dour, appears on Youssou’s 2016 album Senegal Rekk.

Wally Seck, a rising star in Senegal

Born in 1985, Wally Seck, son of Thione Seck (whose ancestors, griots to the Damels of Cayor, sang for Lat Dior), appeared like a meteor in the firmament of Senegal’s music stars. Threatening to eclipse the success of his father and to rival Youssou as the new Prince Charming of Senegalese music, Seck seduced his audiences with his natural singing voice (uncannily similar to that of his father, though more tender and nuanced), his good looks and his glamorous lifestyle. Married to former top model Sokhna Aidara, he drives a silver Chevrolet Corvette and wears Louis Vuitton and Versace clothes, expensive perfumes and gold jewellery. His fans, the Wallyettes, the Xaley Wallys (children) and the Badiane Wallys (older women), follow him to Dakar’s chic clubs like Vogue or Nirvana or the city’s Grand Theatre, where they shower him liberally with banknotes. These he nonchalantly throws to the ground to be collected by a staff member who arrives on stage with a rucksack on his back.

Wally has performed in Times Square in New York; in Paris he filled the Zenith, and on 4 June 2016 he welcomed an audience of 13,000 to the same city’s AccorHotels Arena. He has collaborated with other trending young African musicians like Magic System from the Ivory Coast, Wizkid from Nigeria, Moroccan singer Sarah Ayoub and Sidiki Diabaté, son of Toumani, Mali’s foremost kora player. He also demonstrated his versatility and sensitivity in his song ‘Life is Beautiful’, a musical tribute to Congolese star Papa Wemba, who died in 2016.

When I met Wally in Dakar in 2017 we spoke about his sudden success and a lifestyle that prevents him from going out during the day for fear of being mobbed by zealous fans. He compared his situation to that of his griot parents:

Like all griots I like the good life. In times gone by that meant killing a sheep and eating meat, drinking soured milk and ataya [sweetened Senegalese tea] and chatting into the small hours with good company. Today it’s luxury cars and designer clothes.

Supported by a team of young people of his own age, his songs appear on YouTube, Facebook, WhatsApp and Twitter, accessible all around the world. This is indeed light years away from life in the courts of West Africa’s great empires.

89. Wally Seck.

90. Poster for Wally Seck concert in Paris.