Emmanuel Jal Wants His People to Shower With Milk

Emmanuel Jal grew up thinking that all rappers are from Kenya. "Tupac, Biggie, Busta Rhymes, Lost Boyz - it took me until I was 25 to know that hip-hop was outside of Africa," he tells OkayAfrica in a phone call from Nairobi, his creative home.

With the help of a British aid worker, Jal defected from the army and attended school in Kenya, where he fell in love with hip-hop and music-making. "When I first started, I was discovering myself and my voice," says Jal about the early years in which he was, unknowingly, strongly influenced by the U.S.

He found his style when he came to understand the similarities between rap and the spoken word tradition in his village. "There is something called dé, which is young people meeting to diss their parents, aunties and uncles," he explains to my surprise. "For example, 8-year-olds and 13-year-olds will gather and say, 'Hey, yo, your mom is so ugly that if the lion passes by, he will faint.'" He stops and laughs. "Then the other kid will say: 'Hey yo! Your sister's breasts are so large when she's milking the cow, she has to tie them on her neck.' Of course, the parents don't know about this."

Jal used to attend these battles and, being too much of a good boy, lost every time. But when he started listening to hip-hop, he found it to be the same. "It's all about finding lines and punchlines," he says. "It was difficult for me initially because I didn't know the rules. When I used to go to the studio, I would get kicked out because I didn't know how to follow the beat."

Seven albums, two books, a documentary, and many charity projects later, Jal continues to incorporate the village into his music. The artist seeks out Nilotic sounds in everything he creates while intuitively switching between his Nilotic mother tongue, Nuer, Arabic, Ki-Swahili, and English. "Knowing different languages allows me to find different rhymes and verses for the hook," he explains. "It depends on the beat and the tone of the melody." His initial love for spoken word and hip-hop influences all tracks of the various genres he plays with.

In the past year, Jal has embraced the ecstatic rhythms and synths of Afro-house, a sub-genre of house that emerged in South Africa in the 1990s. "DJs used to mix my music, and it became popular," says Jal. "'Kuar' was played in every club, and I said, 'Wait a minute, I have hits in the club, but people don't know it's my song.'" He decided to write himself into that scene, knowing that his Nilotic twist would be different enough to gain interest and familiar enough to work with the genre.

Whether discussing art or conflict, Jal retains humble confidence, knowing he has much to share and discover. The Sudans have been continuously plunged into fighting and unimaginable horrors ever since he began spreading his message of peace and unity through art, but Jal ventures on in his pursuit.

What keeps him motivated? "Purpose will give your life meaning in every state of suffering," he says. "It will motivate you to grow and create what you believe in your heart."

"The most challenging thing for every human being is when they encounter a challenging situation and are not able to find something that'll give their life meaning in that moment," he continues. "Then they lose hope."

Jal has identified his purpose as creating experiences that give people joy as a storyteller, DJ, musician and activist. "My purpose is to be part of the solution and contribute to restoring balance. And to give without expecting anything in return," he says. "When you walk in your purpose, with a burning desire, success will follow you like your shadow."

He asserts that a person's purpose and essence will never change, but their vision and goals will adjust through experience. Presently, he is having fun DJing and perusing Nairobi for authentic voices to make Afro-house music with.

Jal wraps up the call with a polite and genuine "shukran jazeelan" (Arabic for "thank you very much") and an invitation to drop by his artist residency in Nairobi anytime. After we hung up, I pondered three questions (or rather, writing prompts) he shared with me: How do you want to live your life on this planet? What is your calling? What are the things you care about?