
life between labor’s pain
bracing before the next contraction—
and a sigh before the next 28,
police action.
is it a girl or boy?
pushing for something beautiful.
by K. Osei

life between labor’s pain
bracing before the next contraction—
and a sigh before the next 28,
police action.
is it a girl or boy?
pushing for something beautiful.
by K. Osei

a sick day with Mulan,
skipping rocks across the lake,
a bad day at school and a forest hike.
not perfectly raised
but perfectly made,
like the moon, neptune and uranus.
by K. Osei

KAMAU Mbonisi Kwame Agyeman—which literally means quiet warrior, affectionately called, little brother by his father, has always been a passionate and creative soul. His path in life seemed to be almost certain from birth. As a child KAMAU was very original and slightly unorthodox. Little brother was known to be always friendly with a wacky, witty sense of humor; deeply meditative, and possessing a strong sense of intellectual independence. Ironically, the beautiful, odd and abstract sounds of gibberish we hear in KAMAU’s music, was at times, a source of parental irritation, at least around the dinner table.
A native of Washington, D.C., currently residing in Brooklyn, New York, KAMAU was raised in Upper Marlboro, a subdivision of Prince Georges County, Maryland. At home, his parents emphasized the importance and value of family and culture. These two concepts would form the cornerstone of KAMAU’s musical philosophy. Later, these principles would be reinforced by his initial academic experience at Ujamaa Shule (school), an independent private school in Washington, D.C., founded upon the ideas and basic values of the Nguzo Saba (seven principles). At Ujamaa, KAMAU experienced culture and family outside of the home, as well as the sound and rhythm of the African drums. KAMAU and his siblings would eventually graduate from Frederick Douglass high school in Upper Marlboro, MD; but remained a part of the Ujamaa family, attending and participating in local community celebrations, which exposed them to a variety of African instrumentals like the djembe, fontomfrom, dundun and donno—the calabash, bara and gita gourd—the mbira, balaphone—and of course, the high pitch vocals of ululation.
As a child, KAMAU found daily inspiration within his home. Always tuned in to his surroundings, even while at play, he could hear his mother’s voice singing in the background— She would become his first favorite singer. The Sunday morning atmosphere in the Agyeman home was a jubilant time. His parents would rise early, filling the atmosphere with the spicy-sweet aroma of freshly prepared vegetarian meals. Dad would invigorate the household with joyful, inspiring and often passionate music from around the world. Hugh Masakela, Vieux Diop, Tracy Chapman, Bob Marley, Des’ree, and numerous other renowned artist would serenade the family’s breakfast time. The volume always set at a festive level. Creativity and imagination were always encouraged and nurtured by his parents. As a child, KAMAU and his siblings were captivated by the personalized extemporaneous bedtime stories narrated by their father—featuring KAMAU and his siblings as heroes. Like most children’s stories, the setting was always some far off land—mystical, exotic and adventurous.
KAMAU is the expression and extension of a strong loving family that commonly offered abode to friends and relatives through the years. It was during his time of occupancy, that Cordell, KAMAU’s cousin helped him to conceive rap as a craft. The relationship KAMAU shares with his siblings were among his strongest adolescent influence. The three Agyeman siblings were very popular in high school sports as well. His elder brother Kwasi, a resilient, savvy minded sibling is an accomplished artist in his own right, who has worked closely with his brother in the past. N’jeri, KAMAU’s tenacious, tough-mined little sister, holds a BS degree in business from Manhattanville College in White Plains, New York. N’jeri’s passion for fashion has lead to careers in both styling and modeling.
KAMAU and his siblings were always urged to reason for themselves, to find the answers. With a father that loved the outdoors, nature was frequently proposed as a great place to learn. Philosophy, history and poetry were common themes in KAMAU’s natal environment, however, practical truths were the rule. There was no substitute for a strong work ethic. KAMAU’s mother worked a number of traditional jobs. His father served as a career firefighter, arson investigator and real-estate investor, who sought practical hands-on methods, as well as simple, fun educational tools, such as family board games (Cash Flow, Monopoly, etc.) and books to convey basic business concepts in the home.
While there are a number of artist and musicians who have had an impact on KAMAU’s music, it would be a mistake to limit his musical and artistic expression to a single field of influence. KAMAU has always had an intuitive sense—capable of extracting sounds and images from his environment to create his unique style of music. His love for warrior cultures of the world, universal principle, nature, family and ancestral legacy, are also a part of his musical make-up. His often playful and light-hearted sounds convey thought provoking messages. As a graduate with a BA degree in film, from Pratt institute in Brooklyn, New York, KAMAU has a way of integrating various genres of theater into his sound. His appreciation for all forms of art is evident in both his music and his person.
KAMAU’s voice spans a range of instrumental and natural sounds that lay the framework of his music. His intricate use of free vocal expression, unique sounds outside of spoken word, percussion, beatbox, integrated vocal gibberish, doo-wop and stacked ad-libs within verse, all lend themselves to a very unique and spirited style of musical expression. The music of KAMAU’s childhood, though heavily indigenous, African/African-American, also reflected the sounds and rhythms of many other cultures, including the serene, peaceful sounds of nature. Morning meditation, frankincense and myrrh, yoga and martial arts, the spirit of the quiet warrior—KAMAU’s music reflects both past and present, offering encouragement for the future—a natural multicultural fusion of sound. It is, at its core, an attempt to bring balance and unite all things.
Artist influence
Some of the more noticeable influences on KAMAU’s music are Vieux Diop, Hugh Masakela, Lauren Hill, Tracy Chapman, Miles Davis, Louis Armstrong, Sam Cooke, Andre 3000, Roop Kumar Rathod, Tupac Shakur, Heavy D, Sade, Lupe Fiasco, Asa, Hans Zimmer, Ipi Ntombi, The Temptations, Des’ree, Donnie McClurkin, Al Jarreau, Sammy Davis Jr., Vieux Farka Toure, Issa Bagayogo, Boby Mcferrin, Mystic Warriors, Keiko Matsui, Yanni, Arrested Development, 50 cent, John Legend, Peter Tosh, Bob Marley, Stevie Wonder, K-os, Two Steps from Hell and K’naan and many others.
While KAMAU’s love and broad concept of family is reflected in his music, it is demonstrated in his practice. In college he founded the RoNiN CiRCLE, a kinship of creatives that support each other and cultivates communal and individual growth within crafts and life in general. KAMAU’s ultimate, collective desire is summed up in his special brand of kuumba (creativity): to consciously contribute something as great and beautiful as our existence to the world and “to do always as much as we can, in the way we can, in order to leave our community [and world] more beautiful and beneficial than we inherited it.”
No duty is more urgent than returning thanks. – James Allen

For many years I pondered the Continent of Africa and the people who resided there.
Most of the images I’d seen through mainstream media were negative. The story lines covered by traditional media outlets spoke of either poverty, political, economic or social oppression and unrest. These descriptions contrasted greatly from the information that I had received from friends who made the journey to Africa – at least, as it pertained to the nature and character of the people. I had also read many books on the subject that gave a different perspective.
Not knowing what to expect, in March of 1999, I made my first trip To Ghana.
I was attending a small social gathering at a friend’s home one evening in February of 1999. I was well acquainted with some of the people there, particularly a small organization dedicated to the practice of traditional African culture and religion/spirituality.
The gathering was very lively, yet warm and easy.
The guest roamed the room freely, moving from one huddle to the next, engaging one another. The ambient sound of light-hearted laughter and conversation could be heard just below the African-Caribbean music being played.
The spicy aroma of West African cuisine permeated the atmosphere. Many were culturally dressed in bright colorful garments with exquisite detail and everyone seemed at ease and connected. Suddenly, there was the sound of drums, “boom bop bop boom…,” we all began to migrate towards this sound coming from another room. As I reached the thumbing rhythmic beat, I saw three meticulously hand carved wooden drums engraved with African adinkra symbols being played in unison. These were no ordinary drums, each one had a very distinct sound and look. The fontomfrom, dundun, and the djembe, each drum called out to the guest in melodious accord. Everyone began to gather around; the drummers appeared almost oblivious to the small crowd – tuned in to a rhythm and sound of their own making. A circle was formed and a beautiful barefooted woman dressed in shimmering waist beads, head wrap and flowing colorful garb, began her enchanted dance in sync with the cadence of the drums.
Her rhythmic dance was accompanied by the most lyrical piano-like sound. I panned the room to locate its origin and saw a short well defined man holding a small square shaped piece of wood with both hands. The instrument had staggered metal prongs layered across the top. As he plucked it with his thumbs, a wonderful high quality sound reverberated throughout the room, resonating with perfect pitch (this instrument is known as the mbira, or thumb piano). As the dancer performed, she smiled, gracefully bowing and gesturing with her hand, as an invitation to others into her sacred circle of dance. The energy of the evening was jubilant, yet sublime and serene.
The purpose of this small gathering was to discuss the recent passing of Otumfo Poku Ware II, the Asantehene (King) of the Asante/Akan people of West Africa. Otumfo Opoku Ware II

As the evening progressed people were mingling about the home enjoying the food, music and conversation. I was off to the side conversing with one of the leaders of the organization, when another member, a tall attractive brown skin young woman joined us. With a subtle smile on her face, she placed her hand on the man’s shoulder that I had been speaking with and said, “Did you tell him?” The young man, also tall, was a charming fella; paused briefly, smiled back and said, “I was just getting to that.” Although I didn’t know exactly what they were referring to, the smile on their faces gave me a bit of comfort. He looked at me and said, “You know, we’ve decided to take a small delegation to Ghana on behalf of the organization, to pay respect to the Asantehene.” I listened, and he went on to say, “We would like for you to be a part of that delegation.” This came as a complete surprise. We spent the next forty-five minutes or so discussing some of the particulars of the trip. I felt an immense gratitude and excitement, mixed with slight caution.
Over the years my mind had been plagued by negative media images of Africa. Like the animated shoulder-demon depicted in old cartoons, the stories of Africa’s disease, crime and poverty had been reported with such consistent fervor that I had to pause. The image of Africa had been vilified. On my other shoulder stood years of research and personal stories from friends I knew and trusted – and of course, the overwhelming desire to experience Africa for myself. The fact that I would be traveling with folks that had made numerous trips to the continent was comforting and the opportunity to experience a royal funeral was both humbling and exhilarating. In addition, a few of the members in the delegation were recognized chiefs in Ghana. The things (private ceremonies) that I would be privy to on this journey was not available to everyone. After considering and consulting with my family, it didn’t take long for me to decide – maybe a day or two. Out of all the thoughts and emotions swirling around in my head, the most prominent was gratitude. I had not been a part of the organization for very long. I felt honored to have been selected. The members that made up the organization were some of the most genuine people I knew. It was indeed an honored.
Over the next few weeks I brushed up on my twi (twi is a dialect spoken by the Akan/Asante people of Ghana). I was asked if I would mind functioning as an okyeame (An okyeame is a master of oral expression, one who relays the words of the chief in a more artistic and diplomatic way without losing the essence of what is said). Okyeame

This made me more than little nervous. As long as they were speaking English I was fine. My twi was non-existent and I had literally no hope of improving it in such a short time. I studied feverishly up until a day or so prior to departure. Finally, just accepted what I had—nothing. As it turned out my services as an okyeame was not necessary, at least not as a speaker of the language. This gracious brother and his wife were really looking to introduce me to the culture in a hands on fashion (for which I am forever indebted). With that, I was able to relax and focus my attention on the experience and the majestic scenery of Africa. The ceremonies and celebration, the people, and culture, were all that I imagined it to be.
by K. Osei