In the heart of Abidjan, under the warm Ivorian night sky, a young boy waved a large glove painted in the vibrant colours of Côte d’Ivoire’s flag. He was transfixed, eyes locked on the stage where Angélique Kidjo performed “Afrika”—a powerful anthem of identity, hope, and the enduring spirit of the continent. The crowd echoed the chorus with fervour, chanting, “Ashè é maman, ashè é maman Afirika.”
Draped in a gown of blue and green floral patterns, blue pearls accenting her neck and ears, Kidjo embodied the grace and energy that have defined her decades-long career. She moved with the ease of a master performer, showing no signs of fatigue or age. Three years earlier, she had delivered the same song on a global stage at the Global Citizen concert in Paris, with equally flawless artistry.
For that boy—and for me—it was our first time witnessing her perform live. But it wasn’t the first time I had seen her.
The Arrival of a Legend
A day before the performance, as journalists gathered in a hotel lounge in Abidjan, Angélique Kidjo appeared quietly, ascending from a staircase to join a scheduled press briefing. She wasn’t flanked by an entourage, nor cloaked in grandeur—just a calm, collected presence of someone who, despite her iconic status, remains rooted in humility.
At 64, Kidjo continues to be a cultural force. Named “Africa’s premier diva” by Time magazine in 2007, she arrived in Côte d’Ivoire for the 17th edition of the Festival des Musiques Urbaines d’Anoumabo (FEMUA), an international music festival founded by Ivorian supergroup Magic System and spearheaded by frontman Salif Traoré, popularly known as A’salfo.
By the time I joined Kidjo for our one-on-one interview, she had already lived a full day—up at 6 a.m. for a gym session, followed by a string of press interviews with more than ten journalists, each session running over 15 minutes. I was the last on her list, and I worried whether she had the energy left to engage.
In Yoruba, one of the many languages she speaks, I asked her gently, “Shey koti rera, ma?” (Are you not tired, ma?)
“Oh, I am,” she replied with a knowing smile, “but I am used to it.”
From Childhood Songs to Global Sounds
“I started music pretty young,” she recalled. “The first time I went on stage, I was 6 years old. I love singing, and that singing was nurtured by my family.” Her memories of family trips to Lagos and musical gatherings with her father’s people laid the foundation for a career steeped in African rhythms and global resonance.
To many young Nigerians, Kidjo was more myth than memory until the 2020 Grammys, when her win over Burna Boy’s African Giant sparked widespread discourse. Rather than revel in the victory, she dedicated the award to Burna Boy—a gracious gesture that stirred conversations around pan-Africanism, mentorship, and the shared future of African music.
A Festival with Purpose
Each year, FEMUA adopts a new theme that addresses a pressing issue. This year’s theme, “Road Safety,” reflects a growing national concern in Côte d’Ivoire, where fatal traffic accidents have soared. According to a 2023 UN report, road fatalities in the country have risen from 12 per day in 2012 to 46 per day—an alarming trend that FEMUA hoped to confront through music and public discourse.
Kidjo's presence at FEMUA was both timely and symbolic. As a UNICEF Goodwill Ambassador and founder of the Batonga Foundation, which supports education and leadership programs for girls across sub-Saharan Africa, she has long used her platform to address social justice issues, from gender-based violence to public health.
“Our power comes from storytelling,” she told me. “Music helps us remember. Every ceremony, every turning point has a song. FEMUA allows us to tell stories with purpose—like encouraging people to drive more safely. That’s why I’m here.”
Art as Advocacy
Kidjo’s catalogue is rich with socially conscious music. “Batonga,” a song named after her foundation, promotes girls’ education. “Afrika” celebrates unity and pride in African identity. Her Grammy-winning reinterpretation of Talking Heads’ Remain in Light repositions Western narratives through an African lens, addressing migration, xenophobia, and cultural reclamation.
“Knowing where you come from, being proud of your culture—that’s enough,” she affirmed.
Despite her acclaim, Kidjo has faced the prejudice and ignorance that often greet African women in global spaces. In France, she was once told, “This isn’t African music,” and a stylist, oblivious to her heritage, asked, “Don’t people in your country walk naked?” Those encounters hardened her resolve.
“I knew I had to be prepared. I was like, ‘One day, I’ll prove you all wrong.’ And I did. Because I know where I come from.”
Her pride in the rising generation of African women in music was evident—but so was her call for solidarity.
“It’s harder for women because there are more men out there. So we must work together. Solidarity is what kept us going. Let’s keep it that way.”
That night on stage, she brought out Roseline Layo, a young Ivorian artist, and together they performed their new song, “On Sera Là,” symbolising that passing of the torch.
Africa, United in Sound and Spirit
FEMUA aims to promote Ivorian culture through music, food, and dance—and Kidjo believes that collaboration is key to exporting African culture globally.
“United, we’re unbreakable. Divided, we’d fail,” she said. “It’s not always about the money or the flashy things—it’s about what we’re building for the next generation.”
Her 2021 album, Mother Nature, showcases this vision. It features collaborations with Burna Boy, Yemi Alade, Mr Eazi, Sampa The Great, and others—each track blending generational voices with a shared purpose.
A Final Word
As the discussion approached its conclusion, when inquired about the message she would share with African artists, regardless of their age.
Her response was thoughtful and composed:
“The only thing I have is the music of my ancestors. I want the new generation to be mindful of how they carry themselves, because the world will always try to deceive us. I built something because I didn’t give up. So don’t give up on me.”
And just like that, she was off—graceful, grounded, and still carrying the rhythm of a continent wherever she goes.