♪ ♪ Hi, I'm Rhiannon Giddens.

Welcome to Ireland, my second home.

We're here in Dublin at Whelan's, a legendary music venue that was one of the first places I ever played in this country.

In this season of My Music, we'll be visiting with some of the wonderful artists who call Ireland home.

Niwel Tsumbu is a man of two homelands.

Congo, where he was born and raised, and Ireland, where he has spent almost half his life, and where he is raising his own children.

A guitarist of rare originality, he combines all the sounds that he's absorbed over the course of his musical journey into a style that is stunning, lyrical, and all his own.

We visited with Niwel at home on his and his wife Niamh's family farm near Kinsale in County Cork.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ Niwel... -Hello.

Thank you for welcoming us into your home.

For the edification of people who aren't here with us, where exactly is this house?

This house is in Cork, just outside Cork city.

Innishannon.

Yeah.

Welcome.

Welcome to my house.

You haven't always been in Ireland?

No.

So when?

When did you come here?

I came to Ireland 2004.

So 20 years.

20 years?

Yeah.

Oh my gosh, how old were you when you came?

I was... oh God.

So I would have been 22.

- And where is home?

Home is Congo.

Kinshasa.

The DRC.

- Yeah.

So how did you end up...?

What's the story?

I mean, you know, it's a slight... distance from the Congo to Ireland.

It's a really big story.

But then, Congo has been... the story of Congo so tragic in the last, you know, since the, really 100 years.

So just like everybody else, trying to find a better place to go, but like most Congolese people would go to, to France— — Paris or Belgium, or Brussels—but, um, but my friend lives in Dublin, so he's the one, kind of like, was like, man, you got to, you know, check it out here.

Because, you know, in the Congolese community, a lot of people, because it's kind of, saturated, as a Congolese person, if you go to Belgium, because you're just gonna end up in the same, you know, same group.

So, he was like, come here.

You know, it's a new place.

He'd been here already for like five years.

And, so he's the one really kind of pushed me to come.

So you came kind of just going Let me just check this place out.

Oh yeah.

I thought I would end up in Paris.

-Okay.

Yeah, that was really the plan.

This is going to be a stop.

Yeah.

This was on the way to Paris.

And then, and then, you know, the thing is that I met a woman, - It is a tale as old as time.

-Yeah.

And then so I met Niamh quite, you know, very soon when I moved here.

- All of a sudden, Ireland was very green... - Love was in the air and you know, that's that.

Yeah.

And then we've been here ever since.

So you came, you met Niamh and that was it.

That's it.

Because I started playing gigs around, and she so, she used to come to my gigs.

In fact, actually one of the very first concerts I ever played in Ireland, she said she was there.

I don't know, I didn't see her, but she said she was at that concert.

- Oh, wow.

Yeah.

So, like, your very first moment here?

Like, she was a part of that?

- Yeah.

Even though you didn't know her at the time.

I didn't know her at the time.

- Love it.

But then she used to come to my gigs then I'd just spot her, as you know— - (Aw, look at the face...) - that lovely lady there— you know, and that really, you know, made me stay long because I think I would have definitely, you know, gone to Paris.

-Yeah.

Have you felt welcomed by people who live here?

In the beginning, when I came here, African people here They were like, man, listen, everybody here is a racist.

-Ah.

-That's, that was my experience.

That's what they told me.

So I was like, all right, What have I gotten myself into?

Yeah.

So, but, you know, but I'm like, you know, I'm like— I'm like a kid.

If you tell me, don't do this, that's probably what I'm gonna end up doing.

So, I went out the next day, you know, that's how I met people actually, here.

I went to the next day, and I would talk to anybody who had, like, a musical instrument.

Anybody, you know, if you had a drum kit or a harmonica, anything that just was a musical instrument, I'd stop and nobody said, oh, I don't want to talk to you.

They all stopped.

So then I finally met a friend who's actually a good friend today up to these days, and she was a drummer and I met her, and in fact, I met also this guy, the same day who was like, oh, I said to him, I'm a guitarist and he said Oh, you play?

Okay, I have a concert next week.

Do you wanna come and play?

So, I felt welcome.

I always say I look at life on the bright side, you know, and that's what I notice: the positive, you know?

Negative..

I think my brain just compartmentalizes.

You know, and just like I don't see it.

And I bring my vibe, you know?

- Where did it start for you?

How long have you been playing guitar?

Guitar...Really, you know, really when I decided it was like 1997.

But before that, you know, I already as a kid, you know, you would make your own guitar, you know, get a tin of...milk usually, put like a wood, you know, put some strings, you know.

So, that was before... maybe I was like nine, and, you know, it was more just a toy.

But also in the church we played music, but it was...

I usually say to people In Congo, music is like, it's not even an form, it's just part of life.

- Yeah.

It's really just that, it's not an art form.

So you don't see it as, like, in the church, for instance.

It was really performance, but I don't see it as a performance because it was just— that's just what you did.

There was, drums in the front.

There was no designated drummer.

Anybody could just play the drum when there was a song came on.

And then in every seat there's a shaker, there's a bell.

So as kids, you know, you would always go at the side of the drums, you know, play the drums.

So I would say that's how it started, you know, with me, with music.

But really to learn the guitar is, yeah, ‘97.

My brother used to play, yeah, my brother used to play.

And again, he played for a long time.

I never really paid attention to it until—I have a very clear memory of when that happened.

He was playing.

He was playing a line by, a line that was a famous line by Congolese guitarist called Ali Makoma.

So I said, can you teach me that?

He said no problem.

And he taught me that, and it was around 4 p.m., and I played the whole day until I was being woken up by a slap -Wow -From my grandfather, because I'd fallen asleep, left all the doors open, you know, all the windows.

Luckily we weren't robbed or anything like that, but, yeah, that's that's how it started.

And it it just got worse.

It really got worse.

- How old were you?

Oh, I was maybe—it was late— 16, 17.

- Okay.

- Yeah.

- So 4 p.m. Yeah.

Started to play Started to play until in the next day.

And then because of that the guitar was actually banned in my house.

- Wow.

- Yeah.

- Because he was like, I want you to be doing something else.

Yeah.

I want you to be studying, you know you can't be getting into this and playing all night.

- Yeah.

So the guitar was banned, and... - And that usually works.

-Yeah, right, haha.

When you ban something, that usually works, right?

Well unfortunately it worked with my brother because he actually stopped playing.

- Okay.

- He actually stopped playing.

But I didn't, I didn't.

I playing in hiding actually, I would go to a friend's house, you know, play it.

That's actually my memory of my, you know, my teenage years is that coming back from school I go to my friend's house who had a guitar and I'd take the guitar, play under a tree.

- Wow.

Because I was playing in hiding—nobody, nobody knew.

What was good with that is That was like an for a year and a half.

I did that and that was good because, after a year I met my mentor, who was the person who actually started teaching me the fundamentals.

- Right.

But that first year and a half was good because I you know, I still kept my...my intuition.

You know?

I didn't have anybody to temper my, my intuition.

And then after a year, when I met him, he was teaching me.

So I had just enough time to to still have my own intuition and not develop bad habits.

- Right.

And not to be attached to what the other people think of what I'm playing.

- Yeah, exactly.

You were just playing for yourself.

That's it.

I was just playing for myself.

And that was good.

- Yeah, because you have a very unique style...

I listen to a lot of music, you know, that was also for my mentor.

He was like, you need to open your mind, listen to all the music of the world.

So have all these influences.

Is all in there.

But even when I play traditional Congolese music, it's always different.

People would always say that— even Congolese people would say That I was always different.

In fact, it's so hard for me in Congo because it's difficult to do something different in Congo.

Well, in Africa in general, because things are so tribal, so... like music, you have to be always sort of a link to the music of, of your tribe or something.

So to do something that's very different... people just think, what are you doing?

You know?

What do you know?

So being in Ireland, you know, and away from that— even the secondary Congolese community that would have been i Paris really allowed you to be y Yes.

Completely.

Yeah.

It wouldn't have been the same.

My first concert I played in Kinshasa I was so scared, - Oh wow.

- Yeah, because,you know, the audience there is tough.

They'll tell you What the hell are you doing?

You know, what's this?

They won't be like... you know, in the West that's the cool thing.

Even if they don't like it...

They clap.

So— not in, not in Africa.

So... - How did it go?

It went well, you know, like I had all this session, you know,I remember I had like, you know, breathing a breathing session like now, before... and it went really well.

You know, people actually would not leave.

People did not— because I played like I play here, you know, an hour and half concert.

There are concerts that start at eight, finish at six!

- It's like the beginning.

Like a little taster.

- Yeah.

So they were expecting me to play.

It was like, no, no, no, that's it.

You know, you're happy already; I'm not going to be doing more.

-Yeah.

But there was— I've played three times and every time that's happened - Amazing.

So that's that's pretty cool.

Yeah.

I'm pretty happy with that because, it's not easy.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ Tell me a little bit about that tune.

Well, “Milimo” actually came from a trip that I made.

I went to visit my grandmother, who was sick at the time; well she was very sick.

She was just on her way out.

But when I went there, I went and bought this instrument, called It's a Zande harp.

It's kind of like, you know, it's like a kora, but a smaller version; it actually sounds closer to the banjo and stuff.

But it's, it's an old instrument.

Nobody plays it.

I just, I was just, oh it looks cool.

I was going to just buy it, buy it as a decoration in the house.

So I took it home.

Then my grandmother, when she saw that, she was so happy.

She was like, oh, that instrument you're touching?

That's— that was the guitar before the guitar.

-Right.

So if I wasn't playing the guitar, that's, you know what?

If the guitar did not come to Congo, that's probably the instrument I'd be playing.

Because that's what everybody played, what she said.

But she hasn't seen it because she said, it was just overnight.

As soon as the guitar came, people just stopped playing it.

That was it.

Wow.

So that was fascinating.

So the main riff of “Milimo”, the main riff, that's what I was playing on that instrument then.

♪ Da da da da, da da da... That's what I was playing.

The good thing about it is, that's the last memory I have of my grandmother, is that smile that she had when she saw that.

She was really sick.

I mean, you know, I mean, she passed away maybe a week after that.

But she had this smile you know, was so bright, like, oh, wow.

So that's the last...

But I didn't want to call it... you know, it's not a sad song.

I call it “Milimo” because I feel like, you know, it's— it's the spirits that are connected with her you know, in a different world.

So what does”Milimo” mean?

-It means spirits.

- Spirits?

- Yes.

And also, see, with my grandmother was actually yeah, I forgot to mention, she's actually, you know, she used to make how do you call?

Traditional medicine.

Oh!

Yeah.

So, see, you know in Africa...

I suppose, you know, it's more after the influence of the colonization, you know, like a woman who makes, you know, medicine like that...

It's like a witch doctor.

So it's a bit, you know, frowned upon a bit, but um... but yeah, she...

But before would have been like generations of... -Yeah.

- Women carrying knowledge.

I mean, she... it was such a shame, because, um, we grew up— basically, whenever you were sick, you go to my grandmother.

♪ ♪ [sings in Lingana (Congolese)] ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ Pipidanga, Pipidanga, mama lo bakay Pipidanga That is basically talking about, you know, mom said you shouldn't go out because if you go out, you're going to get —you're going to get sold to strangers.

So, it's a song, you know we just grew up singing, you know, as kids, really.

And it's good, actually, because a lot of these songs, during the lockdown what I started doing, I actually started doing arrangements of traditional songs.

And a lot of these songs are really forgotten, you know, but even the ones that I've done, it was amazing because most of the young generation didn't know these songs at all.

- Right.

Even just, you know, 30 years different.

It's kind of like, you know, they they have no idea what the songs are.

So it's good that we're gonna — we're doing this one.

Because I think that's definitely a lot of people have forgotten.

- Yeah.

You know, “Pipidanga” especially because it's quite old and kids don't really play outside anymore even in Congo, you know, even in Kinshasa everybody's going, you know, AI.

- Yeah.

So that's where you sang those songs: you sang them playing on the street and that's not happening anymore.

So I'm glad that, um, you know, we're going to keep that song alive.

♪ ♪ Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all, it never stops at all.

Sweetest in the gale is heard and sore must be the storm that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm that kept so many warm.

Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all, it never stops at all.

♪ toy whistle, boing boing, electronic buzz