Muhammad Ali, the man whose candle shines upon entire world

On January 17, 1942, an event occurred that changed the world permanently. It was a simple birth in Louisville Kentucky, in the US. That day in this small southern town, a man was born that would alter the course of boxing in particular and sports in general, as well as media and social commentary in the 20th century. He not only challenged the finest fighters in the world, but the world itself. However, it wasn’t until the age of twelve that the young Cassius Clay had an inkling of the destiny that lay ahead of him. In October 1954 Clay and a friend rode their bicycles to the Colombia Auditorium in Louisville, which was hosting the Louisville Home Show. When the boys had had their fun and fair share of the free food and popcorn, they went outside to return home but Cassius’s brand new bike was missing, and not just that, but stolen. It turned out to be the luckiest day of his life. Crying and upset, the young boy sought help from a policeman at the auditorium, Joe Martin. Clay told Martin that his bike had been stolen and that he was going to “whoop” whoever had taken it. Martin who coached a boxing programme for local youth replied that if he was going to “whoop” someone he had better learn how to fight first. It was the beginning of a long friendship and a glorious career for Clay. Upon his return to the US he turned pro with his first fight against Tunny Hanseker in Louisville, winning it in six rounds. He had only one goal in mind – to emerge as the heavyweight boxing champion of the world. And he did. Larger than life In 1964, Clay, “The Greatest” controversially changed his name to Mohammad Ali, referring to the former name as “my slave name”. Named Cassius Marcellus Clay Jr after his father, Ali denounced his birth name upon converting to Islam. Muhammad Ali battling Joe Frazier during their contest labelled the Thrilla in Manilla in 1975. (Internet photo) Later he announced: “Cassius Clay is a slave name. I didn’t choose it and I don’t want it. I am Muhammad Ali, a free name – it means beloved of God, and I insist people use it when they speak to me.” As time passed, he became even more influential as a vocal activist for civil rights than he was as a boxer. He didn’t just “float like a butterfly and sting like a bee” (his most catchy and most memorable boxing-related quote), he sung like a bird and roared like a lion. He didn’t just perform the work of a civil rights leader, he sounded like one. He often spoke with the charisma, fiery passion and lilting cadences of a Pentecostal church preacher. That is why you should not content yourself just reading his quotes. You would miss out on the bigger picture and that would not do justice to the poet extraordinaire the world knew him as. Ali always spoke in a moving and delightful way, and whatever he said, he always did so his own way. His braggadocio-filled trash talk was always rich in musicality, full of rhyme, and impossible to forget. “I’m a poet, I’m a prophet, I’m a resurrector, Savior of the Boxing world. Last week I murdered a rock, injured a stone, hospitalized a brick. I’m so mean, I make medicine sick,” he said famously to one of his opponents before whopping them. Then there was this simple and precise one: “I’m young, I’m handsome, I’m fast, I’m pretty. I can’t possibly be beaten.” Such was the brilliance with which he self-promoted. Ali was big, bad, black, and bold. You could as well add ‘gold’, if even just for rhyme’s sake. One of his daughters, Hana Ali described him as the “gentle mountain”. He greatly influenced Hip Hop and Dancehall music cultures with some of his immortal self-praise lines that he typically threw at his opponents before a major bout. Today, “fly like a butterfly, sting like a bee” can still be heard in the youth-oriented musical segments of Hip Hop and Dancehall culture. Ali oozed black power from every pore of his skin, and figuratively you could say that when he was stripped of his Visa, he chose to fly without one, and he did so with such fortitude and grace. Muhammad Ali in Kigali “Muhammad Ali in Kigali” has such a simple but rich rhyme scheme, which makes it so befitting for a man that was known for the music and poetry that almost all his public utterances embodied. A tribute event in Ali’s honour was staged on the night of Sunday, June 5, at the Innovation Village in Kacyiru, Kigali. The tribute was incorporated into the Sunday Afro Music and Film, a monthly Afro-themed event that takes place every first Sunday of the month. Here, the strong ties between Pan-African film and music are explored, with screenings and open public discussions afterward. I attended but not many people did. And that’s even an understatement. Phantom Punch: Muhammad Ali knocks out Sonny The Big Bear Liston in the first minute of the first round in 1965. (Internet photo) Very few … I think not more than a dozen people were in attendance and it was free entrance to the event. One of my bosses at The New Times, after reading the story asked me why there was such a low turnout and, truth be told, I had no ready answer initially. Part of the reason for the miserable turnout is the fact that not many people today are cognizant of the political activist and social philanthropist facades of Muhammad Ali’s legacy. So there’s no story to the name outside of his phenomenal exploits in the boxing ring. Eric Soul, a Kigali-based DJ who organized the Muhammad Ali tribute even went out of his way to dish out free popcorn to whoever showed up, but the few of us in attendance could not tuck it all into our tummies! So why didn’t Kigalians attend this event? Perhaps many were busy watching Miley Cyrus’s “twerking” videos and misguidedly claiming to whomever it may concern that Miley Cyrus invented twerking. It could also be because we the (especially young) people of today are busy reading about who the latest member of illuminati is, never mind the fact that we can’t even define ‘Illuminati’. I could go on and on, but this is not about society today and it’s fixation on Kim Kadarshian or “The Kardashians” and other such petty and useless internet-aided celebrity culture fanaticism. At the Kigali tribute event, I Am Ali, the most updated documentary about the boxing icon, released in 2014 was aired. Also shown was another documentary – Music Is The Weapon, which documents the music, life and political struggles of legendary Nigerian musician and creator of the Afro-Beat genre – Fela Anikulapo Kuti. Born in 1938 in Nigeria, Fela’s lyrics were scathing denunciations of Nigeria’s socioeconomic reality from the 1960s through to the 1990s. The singer passed away in 1997, aged 58. His music tackled corruption, abuse of power, mental emancipation from colonialism, and the need for Nigerians and Africans in general to stand up for their human rights. Fela’s documentary had actually been intended as the main act for the night, but for the death of Ali two days to the event, so perhaps that can offer some explanation (and consolation) for the low turnout. I will, therefore, end with a quote of Fela’s that I find to be timeless and prophetic, especially for a person currently living and working in Rwanda: “Everybody knows that Africa has to be united now to have any headway. But how is this going to happen? Once there is a good government in one African country, then the whole of Africa will be liberated. So we need one good government that is strict and progressive – a clean government.” editorial@newtimes.co.rw

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Muhammad Ali, the man whose candle shines upon entire world