UP Insight: The Case of Msingi Sasis (And Why You Should Care)

 

 

I last spoke to Msingi Sasis on 26 April; following that through subsequent emails up to 2 May. He had just wrapped up a special photo journey for UP Magazine covering the final shows of Just A Band, and he was set to join UP as a contributing editor starting this month. He has published a spectacular body of work for UP over the years, including a recent 2015 cover and photo journal of the Nairobi River choking on human waste. He is a prolific, if not genius, photographer, writer and new-media expert. Then suddenly on 8 May, he vanished.

 

But why, and is there anyone to blame? Or is this just the slow motion train wreck of an artist undone, unravelled? Or is something else at play?

 

In our conversations he shared a truckload of nagging and ongoing problems: rent was overdue by three months and there was no work to be found, anywhere. He is by all accounts a destitute, out of work artist hanging on the thread of an already threadbare life, cast into the very frame that has been the milieu of his art; this time, an unseen portrait of a figure crossing through Nairobi’s noirish landscape.

 

His most recent post on Facebook sounded like a farewell letter to the world:

 

“Ever since I was arrested as a ‘terrorism suspect’ one year ago my life has been shut down and I have become practically jobless. It has become near impossible for me sell any art or get any meaningful work as almost no one, both individuals and organisations, are willing to do a financial transaction or even be involved with a ‘terror suspect’…

…Being a ‘terror suspect’ means I have not been able (to) earn a living at all. Not being able to earn a living has meant I that I have fallen into and have been accumulating multiple debts. I have suffered this silently and alone, until this point. I have to tell everyone who found any insight and inspiration in my work goodbye.”

 

How is it that someone this unmistakably good, accomplished in his work and talented to the teeth, can be lost, or forgotten or let to mold in a corner?

 

For starters, he was ground up and spit out by an already corrupt system of policing that seems more interested in handouts than real community protection.

 

A year ago in April, Msingi was arrested outside Galleria Mall for taking images as had been doing for years, of the Nairobi streets, its people and all its gritty beauty in stark black and white for his photo blog, Nairobi Noir.

 

He was held at the Lang’ata Police Station “under suspicion of terrorism” for an unspecified amount of time and release again without charge or any court hearing. Several news stories were written about the arrest and even Boniface Mwangi took up his cause on Twitter pointing out the constant harassment by the police of photographers who engage in street photography. For another brief moment (and at Msingi’s expense) we were reminded just how un-free the press really is in Kenya.

 

 

Despite any permanent derogatory public record against him, the damage had been done, and, according to Sasis, his ability to work and earn money has been ripped from him, and now he is homeless.

“This week auctioneers seized everything in my studio. Every valuable thing they placed their hands on. All my cameras, computers, printers, other equipment, and anything that can quickly be sold including hard drives that had every work I have ever created. It’s all gone. I have also defaulted on my rent for many months now and have been issued with an eviction notice which has already expired…In the next few hours I will be homeless.

I am also shutting down Nairobi Noir.

Now to find a place where I can sleep on these street(s) I have come to know.

Hope for me that somewhere along the way I will get on my feet again.

This is the life of an artist as a ‘terrorism suspect’.”

The undeserved harassment, defamation of his name, and resulting loss of livelihood was bound to take its emotional and physiological toll. Msingi had mentioned to people close to him that he was depressed and borderline suicidal, which makes his disappearance even more alarming.

 

But there is something else that Msingi’s disappearance represents, and it is not a commentary on the corrupt wheels of justice or his Facebook post; it is the very attitude we hold for art, beauty and the people who create it.

 

It’s easy to conclude through my experience and observations in running UP Magazine, that Kenya can at times be ‘no country for artists’. They do so at their own risk, own reward, or their own peril. Kenya does not on any scale of note institutionally nurture its artist through grants or education.

 

Veteran Ukoo Flani rapper and artist Sharama, elaborates on this point.

 

“The government does not support artists. Art is not recognised as a legitimate industry by government, that’s why artists keep getting ripped off by entities like Skiza Tunes and MCSK and no legal action is taken. Politicians only recognize musicians and artists during (political) campaigns, but the rest of the time we are of no use because they don’t benefit from us. They have the power to implement policy, but they don’t (do this), which leaves us hanging in the wind.”

 

Thankfully, there are many organizations through member support, patrons or foreign aid (like Kuona) who can create an environment for artists to grow; there are cultural centers that can offer venues and support; there are media organizations and new art agencies that can recognize great talent and share this with the world. But at a fundamental level, the government of Kenya does not lift up its creative class in the same way much of the rest of the world does, and perhaps Msingi is a poster child victim of this fact.

 

According to Sharama the so called support that is given to artist by the government on the whole, is negligible. “Art is not recognized as a real career, therefore this leads to several complications; for instance you cannot get a loan (as a working artist). Only one percent of (what you need) as an artist to survive comes from the government,” he says.

 

This can also have a lot to do with Kenya’s economic priorities and the pyramid of survival. Since 80 percent of the country is still below a middle class income level (or worse), as the story goes, there is little left to invest in starving artists. I call bullshit on that. Look at most every major city in the world (including many African cities) and you will see successful artist communities supported by the government at very little cost to the taxpayer. And the result is happier people and happier cities.

 

According to the director of the Art Council of England, “Great art and culture can inspire a country’s education system, boost its economy and give the nation international standing.” I call this pride.

 

But then again we have yet to mature on a cosmopolitan scale to feed this sense of creative pride. After all, the art market locally is barely in its infancy. It’s only over the last five years that middle class Kenyans have started to buy the works of their own artists in any significant way. This is evidenced by the rise of galleries, art agencies, those who are visibly attending art shows and an increasing sale price. For example, at Circle Art’s most recent auction, it set a record of a single lot sale over 1M Ksh—a high water mark of the art world’s true potential in Kenya.

 

But is the corporate world listening?

 

In my conversations with Msingi before his disappearance, he shared countless stories of how he has been turned down for jobs because of the press he received over his terrorism arrest. In so many words, the commissioning boss would say, according to Msinigi, “I really love your work, but I can’t be seen doing business with someone with a reputation.” In Msingi’s view the ‘terrorism suspect’ has destroyed him slowly like a cancer.

 

However, worse for him than not getting jobs was getting less than he thought he he was worth when he did get jobs. Continuously ‘selling short’ can be morally crushing.

 

Nairobi has a disease when it comes to the creative world: very few in a position to commission great art seem either willing or able to pay what art is really worth. This sad fact is perpetuated by the advertising world and generally the corporate world that sees Kenya, and perhaps Africa as a whole, as a place to cut cost and find cheap labor.

 

A commercial photo shoot in London pays out four times the local rate. How can any artists ever make a career out of ‘third world’ wages while paying a ‘first world’ cost of living standard? Very few do break through and make a living at art, and we can all name them on ten fingers and toes.

 

An un-nurturing culture for artists and a lack of recognition of art’s true value have conspired to send Msingi back into the very streets that brought him to the world, not because he has been suspected as a terrorists (though it has certainly contributed), but because a community could not support his brilliance, even if it wanted to.

 

Currently at the date of publishing there is still no word from friends and family on his whereabouts. His phone is turned off and his pages are silent. He is being tracked on social media through #FindMsingi and Facebook post, but no response is forthcoming.

 

Perhaps in an ironic twist of fate Msingi’s re-emergence will kick off a renewal of his fan base, and the reward of new projects and high-paying gigs. After all, he’ll be hot and “trending”—it’s a fairy tale ending we’d love to see for Msingi and those closest to him. Right now, it would seem, we don’t deserve him.