Fela Kuti’s “Colonial Mentality” Was a Musical Rebellion Against the West

OkayAfrica explores a classic release from the catalog of legendary Nigerian musician and political activist Fela Kuti.

The 1970s were a trying time for the African continent. Several African countries had entered their initial phases of independence from colonial rule, while some held onto a power-hungry way of governing from the West.Fela Anikulapo Kuti, the founder of theAfrobeat music genre — or rather movement — expressed profound disapproval of this throughout his works.

Kuti's work extended beyond mere opposition to Western imperialism; it carried a greater purpose. His vision encompassed the ultimate unification of the African people and its diaspora, preserving tradition free from European control and pursuing a path to true independence born from the continent's native inhabitants.

If there's a Kuti work that highlights this reality, it's "Colonial Mentality." Featured on the album Sorrow Tears and Blood, the song emerged shortly after the attack on Kalakuta Republic in February of 1977. Kalakuta Republic, located in Mushin, Lagos, was Kuti's self-operated homestead, which he built in 1970. It served as a sanctuary for members of his community, primarily band members, dancers, wives, children, and anyone disillusioned with the post-colonial Nigerian government and the oppressive Western framework imposed upon them. It became a haven for the young runaway sons and daughters of Nigeria's middle class. The attack proved especially tragic with the death of Kuti's remarkable mother, Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti. A pioneering figure in Nigerian history, she had founded multiple women's unions, led anti-colonial protests, played a vital role in the independence movement, and broke barriers as the country's first female driver.

Approximately 1,000 Nigerian soldiers surrounded and ambushed the Kalakuta commune. Fela and the residents of Kalakuta were beaten, the women were raped, and the compound was set on fire. Fumilayo Ransome-Kuti, who was inside the two-story Kalakuta building, was thrown out of the window. The injuries she sustained from this incident led to her death a year later.

Following the attack, Fela released "Colonial Mentality," a record that describes an African man who adopts the European framework to the point where his identity is completely altered, moving far from its original heritage.

"Colonial Mentality / E be say you be colonial man / You don be slave before / But dey don release you now."

Fela begins by citing the name of the concept in Nigerian Pidgin, immediately mocking those who practice it. In the line, "E be say you be colonial man," Fela addresses someone who has embraced the colonial mentality, reminding them that they were once enslaved. He emphasizes that the very colonial man they seek to emulate is the same one who once enslaved their people and left them in their current state.

"But you never release yourself / I say you fit never release yourself."

Those who possess the colonial mentality experience a false sense of freedom, having consciously chosen to submit themselves to Western hegemonic ideals and customs. This theme becomes strikingly clear as Fela repeatedly sings, "I say you fit never release yourself," emphasizing the crucial, self-initiated step of breaking free from the shackles of the foreign British and Portuguese blueprint.

"The thing wey black no good / Na foreign things dem dey like."

Fela recognizes the contrast between the native and the foreigner, viewing the colonialist as the foreign entity that the compromised native tends to "like" over their blackness. In the line, "Them judge him go kaka wig / And jail him brother away," Fela highlights the native who chooses to work for the post-colonially formed English common law judicial system and ultimately engages in corrupt petty arrests — an example of the colonial mentality in practice.

Fela Kuti sits in an armchair in his compound, Lagos, Nigeria, circa 1983.

Photo by William F. Campbell/Getty Images.

This line also reflects the numerous times Fela was arrested throughout his life — nearly 200 times. Primarily targeted under the military regimes of Olusegun Obasanjo and Muhammadu Buhari, Fela faced a range of petty charges, including possession of marijuana and traveling internationally with sums of money deemed excessive. One such charge in 1984 resulted in a five-year prison sentence, for which Fela served 18 months before being released due to international pressure. These arrests often involved overwhelming displays of force, with up to 50 soldiers violently detaining him each time. The arrests are recognized as acts of retaliation against Kuti for his uncensored, boisterous musical criticism of the post-colonial Nigerian military regime.

During the Fela Festival at WKCR Radio at Columbia University last October, I spoke with Fela's former longtime manager,Rikki Stein. Stein reflected on the toll these repeated physical abuses took on Fela's health and believes that the relentless beatings and arrests left Fela in a weakened state during his later years, making him more vulnerable to illness.

"As far as I'm concerned, he died of one beating too many," said Stein. "I'm not suggesting that Professor Olikoye, his brother, was incorrect in his diagnosis of the cause of Fela's death. But I'm saying that as far as I'm concerned, the main cause was that disease [AIDS] was allowed to enter by the sacrifices, physical sacrifices, that Fela made by standing up so tall and proud, facing off single-handedly against a military junta that had no pity in their hearts at all."

Standing steady on the Pan-African mentality, Fela's son,Seun Kuti, holds a perspective that underscores the persistence of the colonial mentality among African elites today. I also got to catch up with Seun last October, and he reflected on the complicity of these elites in systemic oppression.

"Many of our so-called elites in Africa and the diaspora are individualistic institutions of white supremacy," said Seun Kuti. "A majority of the rich men in Nigeria, the government, the politicians — these are just Western institutions in 'black and paste.' They are not helping us build or investing in the bonds we need as African people globally as all the other groups do."

Kuti harmoniously exposes the deep-rooted nature of the African man's colonial mentality in this record. His call to "release yourself" underscores the need for mental decolonization as a crucial step toward true independence. The song's repeated refrain, "Na Africa we dey, make you hear," serves as the Afrobeat icon's call to awaken the consciousness of all Africans. The song embodies his vision of Pan-Africanism, urging unity among African people and their diaspora, preserving indigenous traditions, and pursuing genuine independence.