Kathryn Bromwich 

On my radar: Kayus Bankole of Young Fathers’ cultural highlights

The Scottish-Nigerian musician on taboo-breaking conversations, brutally honest images of apartheid and where to find the best akara falafel wrap
  
  

Kayus Bankole of Young Fathers.
Kayus Bankole: ‘When I’m on the road, I find the nearest galleries and take myself there.’ Photograph: Katherine Anne Rose/The Observer

Born in 1987, Kayus Bankole lived in the US and Nigeria before moving back to his native Edinburgh for high school, where he met Alloysious Massaquoi. With Graham “G” Hastings they formed the hip-hop trio Young Fathers, releasing their debut album Dead in 2014, which went on to win the Mercury prize. They have since released albums White Men Are Black Men Too, Cocoa Sugar and last year’s Heavy Heavy. He lives in Edinburgh. Young Fathers (performing with the NIA community choir) headline the BBC Radio 6 Music Festival, 7-10 March, in Greater Manchester.

1. Documentary

Coconut Head Generation (dir Alain Kassanda)

This is about a group of students at the University of Ibadan, Nigeria. They set up a weekly film club and come together to discuss topics that are considered taboo: politics, race, feminism, modern living. Both of my parents are Nigerian and I’m very rooted in the culture and speak the language, so it was interesting to see young people talk about issues and stigmas that I don’t think older generations feel as comfortable discussing. One of the topics was family life and household dynamics – what should be done and who should be doing it. That was an interesting conversation.

2. Photographer

Giles Duley

Giles Duley is more than a photographer: he’s also a chef, a writer, a presenter and a whole bunch of other stuff. His work with the charity Legacy of War is phenomenal: after his trip to Afghanistan he created this foundation to support those who have gone through conflict. The images that stuck with me are his revisited portraits: he took a photo of a mother in Lebanon a few years ago, then went back and took another portrait. Looking at them side by side is like a time capsule: you see the wrinkles in the face, the smiles getting bigger.

3. Art

Liverpool Biennial 2023: uMoya: The Sacred Return of Lost Things

I went to this last year, just before hitting the road. One of my friends was driving down to Liverpool for some meetings so I went along. The biennial was curated by Khanyisile Mbongwa, who is an artist, performer and sangoma – a spiritual healer. Looking at all the art by various artists, it felt seamless: the works felt connected to each other. There was an artist called Guadalupe Maravilla, whose work is centred around healing and spirituality: he created this beautiful sculpture out of indigenous materials and volcanic rock, and it looked amazing.

4. Food

Bongou Cafe, Edinburgh

Bongou Cafe is run by an amazing Nigerian lady, Tosin, who’s from my own town in Ogun State. She’s unapologetically Nigerian, she doesn’t change the names to suit a western idea of what it should be, it’s like: “This is ata rodo.” I love the akara falafel wrap with avocado and spicy sauce, and the soups are banging. But to me it’s more than just a cafe, it’s a community hub. You might get lucky and have a game of chess with Tosin’s son. It feels homely, like I’m heading to my sister’s house to go get some food.

5. Book

House of Bondage by Ernest Cole

When I’m on the road, I find the nearest galleries and take myself there, not knowing what to expect – it’s a nice way to keep inspiration going and escape the monotonous routine of soundcheck, show, bed, repeat. On one of those trips I came across the work of Magnum photographer Ernest Cole, which shows segregation in South Africa during apartheid; there are some extremely powerful images of young black men in prison. His work is brutally honest. You can lose humanity when you’re taking photos of people in tough situations, but in every single one of his images, the humanity was intact.

6. Album

Jerusalem by Emahoy Tsegué-Maryam Guèbrou

One of my mates from LA was listening to her music and I Shazamed it. I’ve always thought the easiest way to connect to someone is through the vocals, but listening to her play the piano was the most moved I’ve ever felt when listening to somebody play an instrument. It felt like the space was completely filled. I felt like I was understanding the uncertainty, and the passion, and the love. That’s been my album of choice to listen to, going for walks and doing training. There’s just something about it that draws me in.

 

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