What inspired you to become a musician, and how did your upbringing in Benin influence your artistic style?
I didn’t decide to become a musician. It was music that chose me, I’d say. I grew up in a house where music was central to our lives, alongside sport. The two most important things for my parents were education, music and sport. I grew up listening to a lot of music from all over the world. My brothers had a music group and used to cover songs from all over the world. So, I was exposed to different musical styles, in addition to traditional music from Benin, West Africa, Africa in general, and artists from Congo, Cameroon, Togo and many others. All forms of music that existed at the time were part of my daily life. I’ve always loved singing. I started singing at the age of six in my mother’s theater troupe. But the desire to become a musician crystallized much later in my mind.
We know you as a committed singer. On the continent, you’ve been nicknamed Mama Africa. What is it about your roots that makes you such a committed artist?
I left Benin at the age of 23. I grew up in a culture that’s always been with me, wherever I’ve been. I knew where I came from, even if I didn’t know exactly where I was going. But my culture, for me, has never been a matter of choice: to use it or not to use it. It’s part of me.
I’ve always wanted to understand the wealth of traditional music that has been handed down to us over the centuries. When I left my country, I had with me a cultural baggage deeply rooted in the traditional music of Benin, the West African coast, and even a little more broadly of the African continent, because I was also listening to music from elsewhere in Africa.
I left with this cultural baggage, and never, never, did I intend to stray from it.
You are a highly innovative artist in terms of musical production, blending your rich cultural heritage with an openness to the sounds of the world. How does this creative process unfold for you?
From the moment I arrived in the West, I realized that the music of the African continent is at the heart of all world music. Slavery was not only an economic loss for Africa, but it was also a huge cultural loss. But this loss didn’t stay on the continent; it enriched all the world’s music.
When I arrived, I saw people categorizing music, saying, “This music comes from such and such a place.” But when I bring these influences back to the African continent, I find their roots. I realized this during the creation of my trilogy of albums. This journey made me realize that many traditional musical themes have remained intact, even among the descendants of enslaved Africans.
Take classical music, for example: we often talk about Bach’s sarabande. But did you know that the sarabande was influenced by the dances of the slaves of Panama? This dance, which arrived at the Spanish court, was judged too sensual and sent back to Latin America. But it came back to Europe in a different form and spread everywhere.
It was through this research that I realized the extent to which music tells the story. Look at calypso: it has its roots in traditional practice where two villages in conflict faced each other on either side of a street to resolve their differences in song. They would express their grievances, their solutions, all in music. Calypso was born of this musical jousting.
When you consider the richness and diversity of its culture, you realize that Africa has always been a melting pot of influences. Today’s borders don’t erase the similarities that exist in the music of the whole of West Africa. What I do through my projects is draw on this infinite melting pot to show the correlations between all these cultural expressions.
For example, with Yo-Yo Ma, we worked on a project called *Sarabande Africaine*. My point is that we Africans are not always aware of what we have contributed to the world. It’s all very well to talk about museums, but you also must listen to the music. Without the blues, there’d be no rock’n’roll. No R&B. No country. No funk. None of these genres would exist without the blues, which has its roots in Africa.
It was thanks to my musical journey that I became fully aware of the inestimable richness of my ancestors’ culture.
Let’s talk about your musical journey. Which album do you think best represents the culmination of this diversity of experience, not as a finality, but as a perfect illustration of your journey?
I wouldn’t say it’s an album, but rather a constant work, a thread that goes back to my very first album. When I released Logozo when I arrived in France, some journalists criticized it, saying it wasn’t “African enough”. For them, for something to be African, it had to be purely anthropological, traditional, staid, museum-worthy.
But for me, there can be no traditional music without modernity. Traditional music evolves over time, adapting to the realities of each era. The trilogy I’ve started with my albums is representative of my vision.
The first part took me to the United States, where I collaborated with African American and white songwriters and composers from all walks of life. These exchanges enriched my music and enabled me to build bridges between Africa and the rest of the world.
The second part took me to Salvador de Bahia, where I discovered religious practices and traditional songs from my own country. What struck me was that these songs, handed down through generations, were performed by people who speak neither Fon nor Yoruba, but who know these melodies perfectly. It was a deeply moving experience. Human memory is incredible: despite attempts to eradicate the cultural identity of Africans during slavery, it has survived.
The third part took me to the Caribbean, where I discovered African roots in genres like calypso. In Cuba, I rediscovered traces of Yoruba and Beninese cultures, carried on by descendants of Africans who have preserved their heritage over the centuries.
These three albums were a milestone for me. They gave me the conviction that no one could say any more that Africans had only “taken”. No, we gave, we learned, we mixed, and that mixing continues to this day.
My Fifa album is another illustration of this return to my roots. I went back to Benin, traveling from north to south, to meet the drums that rocked my childhood and nourished my musical memory. This trip confirmed one thing for me: no music in the world can exist without the music that comes from the African continent.
My collaborations, whether with artists or exploring black cultures around the world, are not just transcultural. They are also transgenerational. My work is a tribute to our heritage and a bridge to the future.
You’ve collaborated with the younger generation, including Nigerian artists and, more recently, Stonebwoy from Ghana. What inspired you to turn to these young talents?
It’s the young people who have inspired me, and I realized this when I became an ambassador for UNICEF, during my trips to villages, particularly in Haiti. There, sometimes people didn’t even remember my name, but they remembered my songs. It was then that I realized the impact of my work on young people, both boys and girls.
For me, the idea of transgenerational transmission is obvious. We all come from an oral tradition. My music, far from leaving young Africans indifferent, pushes them to realize what they can achieve. For decades, I’ve been saying that the day African youth make full use of their music with the modern technologies at their disposal, it will create a breaking wave.
And that’s exactly what’s happening today. When I started out, I absolutely had to sign a contract with a record company to exist. This came at a huge cost, not only financially, but also personally. But what we experienced back then is nothing compared to the opportunities we have today. With digital tools, these young people can now share their art without limits.
I’d now like to talk about your work with UNICEF and what it means to you.
UNICEF has always been part of my life, without me realizing it. All my vaccinations as a child were done by UNICEF. My mother always knew when the truck was coming for the vaccinations. Even though I hated injections back then (and still do today), in my mind UNICEF stood for health, especially children’s health.
When I was asked to become a UNICEF ambassador, my first question was, “What does it mean?” I told them straight away, “I’m not a politician and I can’t be politically correct. If you expect that of me, I’m not the right person, because I tell it like it is.”
I was then asked what I wanted to do. I replied, “What interests me is children, young boys, young girls-and women. How can we improve their lives?”
And so, it all began, with Carol Bellamy, on a mission to Tanzania. There, I discovered an orphanage for children with AIDS, toddlers who had done nothing to deserve this. It was a deeply moving experience.
With UNICEF, my role is to listen and work with communities on the ground.
Are there one or two outstanding experiences from your fieldwork with UNICEF that you could share with our readers?
I’d like to start with my first trip to Tanzania.
In one village, there was a very high rate of people suffering from goiter. We investigated to find out why this disease was so prevalent only there. We discovered that it was due to the consumption of non-iodized salt, which amplified the onset of goiter.
Of course, we could have considered surgery to treat the cases, but that wouldn’t have solved the root of the problem. So, we asked ourselves: What can we do to prevent this disease? We worked with the pharmaceutical industry to develop salt testers, enabling women to check whether the salt they were buying contained iodine.
Once the women had these testers, they began to buy only iodised salt. The sellers, seeing that their non-iodized salt was no longer selling, came to ask how to produce salt with iodine.
Gradually, the whole chain changed, from buyers to sellers, and we saw a gradual reduction in goiters in this village.
This was made possible without the need to take people out of their village for major surgery. We have found a simple, local and sustainable solution.
Another example is malnutrition in the Samburu district of Kenya. We visited two villages: one where a program to combat malnutrition was well advanced, and the other where it had not yet begun.
The difference between the two villages was striking. In the village where the program was in place, women and children were in much better health. But in the second village, we saw a mother who was five months pregnant, with a 24-month-old child who couldn’t sit up or hold his head.
It just goes to show that when we help people take control of their own health, the results are incredible. Mothers, once trained and supported, mobilize. They nurture their children, their families and their communities.
By empowering them, we can make a lasting difference.
What are your plans, both artistically and in your role as UNICEF ambassador?
My next album will be out in February, and we’ll see how it’s received. I’m always creating, and working on new things.
Right now, for example, I’m working on an opera. I’m constantly creating, because for me, as long as you’re alive, have ideas and have the opportunity to realize them, you must make the most of it. It’s also a way of opening doors for other people.
As for my involvement with UNICEF, I think I’ll stay involved with the organization for the rest of my life. As long as there are governments and societies in the world unable to protect children’s rights, I will continue to support UNICEF.
Do you have a special wish for your continent?
Africa is the continent with the youngest people under the age of 19. The XXIᵉ century will be Africa’s century, if and only if we become aware of our needs and meet them ourselves, without waiting for tutors.
Africa is a rich continent, and we must give pride to our youth, create jobs so they can stay at home, instead of risking their lives on makeshift boats. It’s a shame to see these young people leave, and yet we are capable, in Africa-whether in the north, center, south, east or west-of offering them reasons to stay.
We need to encourage our children, both girls and boys, to build their future at home, not to leave, as I did, without any prospects. We have the talent, and it’s imperative to keep it in Africa to build a continent that looks to the future, not locked in the past.
My dream for the African continent is for us to stand up and decide to create businesses, to produce and develop our resources locally. It is imperative that we achieve food independence, defense independence, and scientific independence so that we can solve our own health problems. We need to conduct research into the diseases that affect us directly.
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