He is a rapper, filmmaker, poet, activist, father, person with a disability and “also a bit of a witch.” Not necessarily in this order. He is above all an innate narrator of stories, which emerge in conversation naturally and practically with the cadence of rap, also accompanied by insolence and disapproval towards those who hold power in . “If we were a normal country, I would not be an activist,” he guarantees in an interview with this newspaper in Madrid.
Hembe, 38, presented an award-winning short film in November in Madrid and Barcelona whose starting point is the sending into space in 2017 of a lost Angolan communications satellite. This fact serves to make a sharp criticism of the authorities and to defend identity and diversity.
“It is very hard to speak loudly and clearly in my country. When you are not in the media it is even more dangerous because you can end up in jail or disappear. But sometimes, people understand that there are things more valuable than one’s own existence and that one cannot always live crushed,” says Hembe, who is part of , one of the main social movements in the country.
Ask. In his film he says 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 often not attentive to our needs and we opt for a development that does not represent us. In Africa in general, and I say this in the film, we have a chronic identity crisis because our countries were founded and, even being free, much of the discourse and social bases are marked by colonialism. They are like antennas, part of a project that is not yet finished.
P. For example?
R. I am here speaking in Portuguese, it is not my ancestral language, but it is my mother tongue, because I could not learn Umbundu. My mother is the last one in the family to speak it. Colonialism weighs on our personal identity and on our identity as a country. We had one of the longest conflicts in Africa, from 1975 to 2002, in the context of the Cold War. But when they leave us alone, when foreign interests leave, we manage to talk to each other and sort things out more or less. We Africans need this introspection and decolonize the mind, emancipate our heads.
Our countries were founded and, even being free, much of the discourse and social foundations are marked by colonialism. They are like antennas, part of a project that has not yet finished
P. Does that latent colonialism also weigh on your life as an artist?
R. Completely. We have a lot of cultural strength and a great creative capacity, but few resources to develop all that potential.
P. Is Angola’s condemnation that it is a rich country?
R. Sometimes being rich is the worst misfortune, especially when the resources do not benefit us, Angolans. Angola is like a rich man who suddenly has a lot of friends who suck up to him solely because they are interested in his resources. We have other riches, cultural or historical heritage that are forgotten. What counts is oil and the so-called rare, in a context of aggression against nature. African countries, like Angola, are not at all concerned about our interests.
P. Does the activist talk more than the artist?
R. I come from hip hop and I believe that there is a social purpose within the artistic manifestation. We believe in the power of words and art as a means of social transformation. If we were a normal country, I would not be an activist because my temperament is not like that. But things got worse.
Angola is like a rich man who suddenly has a lot of friends who play along with him solely because they are interested in his resources.
P. How?
R. There were some very hard deaths for the hip hop community and we began to reflect on human rights violations and claim our space. First on a Facebook page, and later in the 2017 elections we began to monitor in parallel, because we were fed up with votes that legitimize a despotic government. We gathered a lot of information and decided not to disperse, to continue.
P. That was the i, who has become an important voice in his country, a unifier of social movements.
R. Mudei is an umbrella under which there are many people and many entities. The movement is growing and making room for people who had been left on the margins of society. We fight to conquer space little by little. Today we make reports, audits, we compare official data… I very much believe in the idea of a democracy based on civil movements, because since they have no objective of power, participation is much more genuine and horizontal.
P. What risks does all this entail in Angola?
R. It is very hard to speak loud and clear in my country. When you are not in the media it is even more dangerous because you can end up in jail or disappear. But sometimes, people understand that there are things more valuable than life and that you cannot always live crushed. That you cannot let your destinies be directed by a man. That doesn’t make sense.
P. How does an artist like you survive? Do you find, for example, spaces to act?
R. Artists in my country suffer from censorship, self-censorship… we have everything. In that aspect my country is also very rich (laughs). I don’t make a living from art as I would like, but I don’t want to be in the photo with someone with whom I don’t share my vision of life. I am not going to sing, for example, at a festival that silences or ignores the victims of a demonstration. Overall, yes I am where I want to be, going back to your first question.
P. Are many doors closed to you because of that?
R. In the end, I always find a place to sing, in alternative places. I don’t feel persecuted, I don’t think I’m a threat. Honestly, I think they see me as more oppositional than I feel. I rather approach art with an ethical commitment and thus protect myself from frustration.
P. In your film there is also a very clear message about people with disabilities. Is it a personal circumstance that has also marked your activism?
R. I had polio when I was very little. In the war I lost all my orthopedic devices, starting with my shoes, because we had to move from one place to another. My health problems were aggravated by this, although my parents always tried to ensure that I had a wheelchair. In Angola there are many people who are not that lucky, who live on the ground, in filthy environments. Even so, I have spent many months without leaving the house. I didn’t even know my street.
In Angola, the political monopoly implies the failure of all the agendas of feminism, of people with disabilities, of the LGTBI community… Everything is centralized and diversity is left out
P. How do minorities survive in your country?
R. In Angola, the political monopoly implies the failure of all the agendas of feminism, of people with disabilities, of the LGTBI community… Everything is centralized and diversity is left out. That is why we have created a cause solidarity group, to listen to each community and see what their priorities are and from there, move forward.
P. Within this wide range of activities, who is Isis Hembe finally?
R. I am an existential researcher, an inventor of feelings, a child who plays and tries to feel the aroma of things. And from all that I try to invent something that is useless. People can perfectly live without what I make. Or maybe not and that’s what makes us human. The things that are useless are the most interesting and comfort me as a person with a disability. Therefore, being an artist is something vital for me.
