On a warm spring night last April, I sat down with Turunesh in a small jazz café here in Vancouver. I’ve met Turunesh before, in passing, but this was the first time we’d gotten a chance to talk at length. Last year was one of her biggest years yet; her sophomore album Satin Cassette was released to much acclaim. Her saccharine vocals are infused with a sensual edge that, when coupled with her trademark stunning visuals, transports listeners to a heavenly plane.
Born in Kenya and raised in Tanzania by an Ethiopian mother and a Tanzanian father, Turunesh feels a deep connection to the continent, something that is strongly felt in her music. When asked to describe herself as an artist, her first words are: “I’m a Pan-African. I try to put that into the music in terms of the messaging and the visual storytelling. That is the context I try to deliver my art in.” Thus, she sees a common thread among African artists of today, especially in the alternative scene: “There’s such a similarity in the essence of the alternative movement happening across the continent. There’s something very unifying about what we’re all trying to say.”
She describes her motivation for music as a “spiritual vocation” and a “purpose” inspired by her knowledge of pre-colonial African societies. She goes on to say that musicians were traditionally seen as “vessels, storytellers and mediums” who served the esteemed role of relaying important messages to the people. She feels closest to these convictions when she is on stage, while they are also the source of her confidence. “When I perform live, it feels like a very transcendent, spiritual thing,” she says, starry-eyed. Specifically, she is very appreciative of East African spirituality and Swahili cultural practices.
Turunesh has not shied away from showcasing this appreciation and reverence in her music. The video for her song “Coco Marijuana”, from the Satin Cassette album, is a great example of this. Turunesh is the creative director and executive producer for this video and worked very closely with Australian director, Sebastian Hill-Esbrand. The video was produced by Neshå Empire, the record label that she founded.
The video takes us to an underground music lounge somewhere in Africa during the Independence era. The air feels electric as musicians and intellectuals alike come together to listen to illegal music. Here, they have the freedom to think outside the box and share new ideas — especially the women. When writing this story, Turunesh imagined Sophia Town in South Africa and Harlem in New York due to their respective histories of freedom-fighting and revolutionary movements inspired by music. Outside the lounge, in a dark, powder-stained room, there is an observance happening inspired by the Swahili cultural practice of unyago, a set of rituals and dances designed to celebrate the coming of age of young girls whereby they are taught about sex and marriage. While the ritual is taking place, there are unyago dancers as well as intore and eskista dancers (these originate from Rwanda and Ethiopia, respectively). This scene is a homage not only to Swahili tradition but also to sexual freedom and African feminism, which are both prominent themes in her music.
Additionally, the video depicts myriad spiritual beliefs and identities. One of the critical scenes she mentions takes place at the beginning. A Muslim woman is sitting with other non-Muslim women with a cigarette in her hand, an act that may seem taboo to some. What is she smoking? A blend of marijuana and other herbs, hence the name, “Coco Marijuana”. Turunesh explains that this image of a Muslim woman engaging in traditional herbalism signifies her multifaceted ideal of African spirituality prevailing in a context of neo-colonial religion. Later on, guests gather at the front of the room ready for a performance. On stage, there is a goddess or priestess who sings to the audience, sending them into a deep trance. Turunesh identifies her as Neshå, Goddess & Priestess of love and music. She is a deity of her creation, inspired by the Egyptian goddess Hathor, and serves as a metaphor for Turunesh as an artist.
It is clear that in this space, women are included, in charge and have immense power, regardless of religion or creed. The significance of this lies in the fact that even in modern-day Africa, years after colonialism, the centring of women and the practice of African spirituality are seen as devilish and uncivilised, despite history saying otherwise. But Turunesh embraces this idea of being “syncretic” and inclusive in her beliefs. She was raised Muslim and appreciates the ways Islam has shaped her, yet also feels a strong connection to East African forms of spirituality. She does not feel a clash when melding these different belief systems, she simply considers it an elevation rather than a diminishing of her faith. “Africans who ascribe to Christianity or Islam and still have space in their minds and in their hearts to believe and respect traditional ways of spirituality are probably the most progressive thinkers that there are.”
Turunesh’s imagination extends to the geographical just as much as the metaphysical. She wants to be a “citizen of the world”, and she expects to keep moving around to keep up with the artist life that requires a great deal of flexibility in time and space. She doesn’t seem attached to any place in particular but speaks fondly about the likes of New Orleans, Harlem and Montreal due to their rich musical heritage. She would like to return to London and play again at Troy Bar on Hoxton Street, where she performed at a few open mics in 2018. She found the energy and talent there to be exhilarating. Turunesh wants to go wherever the music takes her: “I'm trying to position myself in a place where there are resources to tell the stories that I want to tell. And I think I can do that wherever I am because I'll take my experiences, and I'll take my life experiences and my stories anywhere.”
Turunesh is not looking to settle any time soon and wishes for this next year to be a “year of travel”, so she can venture to places where “music is in the air”. She also plans to move to Toronto, though she remains deeply appreciative of the fanbase she's built in Vancouver. Her move to Toronto is purely driven by the need for musical exploration and the need to build a wider creative ecosystem.
While, for now, she’s set on traversing the industry and resources available to her abroad, she eventually hopes to spend more time in Tanzania and even carry out some projects there. “I don't want Tanzania to be a place where I simply grew up, and I'm never grounded there again. I would like to feel grounded in Tanzania sometime again in my life, not only when I'm older.” Turunesh’s connections to home cannot be erased, and she is eager to permanently return to Tanzania one day.
The singer’s favourite place back home is Mbudya Island. It’s a small island that she and her friends often visited growing up. A quick Google search reveals it to be a remote paradise with white sand beaches and clear blue waters. There is not much to see except a bar, a few bungalows and, of course, the beach. The island is largely uninhabited with exception of a “couple dudes” selling alcohol and fresh, inexpensive seafood. It’s open, peaceful and doesn’t really belong to anybody; what you see is what you get, and that’s why she loves it. She credits the island for influencing the beachy coastal feel of her music, reminiscent of Swahili jazz and high life, especially in her first album, Coastal Cider. Many childhood memories were made there as well as typical teenage mischief. She and her friends would go around midday and take the last dinghy back at 5pm. “It reminds me of my friends. It’s a little home away from home”, she fondly recounts.
Talking to Turunesh, I can see how much she sees herself as a representation of Africa, especially its women. Her art is a reimagination of Africa that embraces both the traditional and modern, leaving no one behind. It is because of this innovation that she can connect to so many across Africa and the diaspora. Through her artistry and her record label, she is focused on lifting up other musicians and creatives: “I want to work with more people and build things that are bigger than what I can envision just for myself in my head because it can be very limiting to work in a vacuum of yourself on your own mind. If I can sit here and think of all these things and all these aspects and think this far and this creatively, imagine if I had five other women around me right now.”
Turunesh will be going back home to Dar es Salaam this summer, where she’ll be resting and creating more music. She hints that fans could expect new music around the anniversary of Satin Cassette‘s release, which falls on 9 September this year.
