The Story Behind Nilikupenda

Nilikupenda was born during the same creative period as Sitachoka and another unreleased track called Mbele. Although Mbele eventually took a different direction, all three songs came from the same chapter of my life, and if you listen closely, you can hear the threads that connect them.

That chapter was defined by one thing: absence.

I was injured, away from basketball, and struggling to come to terms with the fact that I couldn't do the thing I loved most. In many ways, my music has always been an ode to basketball. That's one of the beautiful things about art—it allows us to transform our experiences into something entirely different. A song can say one thing on the surface while meaning something completely different to the person who created it.

If you've listened to my music, you may have already noticed that the lyrics rarely tell the full story.

The inspiration for Nilikupenda also came from an experience I had at the Kilele Music Festival, organized by Santuri. During the summit, the incredible artist Labdi gifted participants a sample pack that was inspired by an instrument called the Orutu. From the moment I heard it, I knew I wanted to build something around its sound.

Eventually, that instrument found its way into three songs: Nilikupenda, Lamai, and Mbele.

Of the three, Nilikupenda remains my favorite use of the urutu. There's something about its texture that perfectly captures the emotion behind the song.

For me, Nilikupenda is about letting go. It's about wanting something deeply but being unable to have it. It's about that strange feeling of loving something from a distance and learning to accept that, at least for now, it cannot be yours.

For me, that thing was basketball.

During my recovery, I missed the court more than I can describe. I missed the game, the competition, and the feeling of simply being out there. Yet, throughout that period, I deliberately avoided going to the basketball court. I knew myself well enough to understand that if I went, I would want to play.

I've always believed that willpower isn't about placing yourself in the middle of temptation and resisting it. Real willpower is about understanding your limits and avoiding the temptation altogether.

So I stayed away.

Nilikupenda became the soundtrack to that feeling: wanting something desperately, knowing you can't have it, and somehow finding peace with that reality.

The song isn't about blame. It's not the court's fault, and it's not the game's fault. It's not even my fault. Injuries happen. Circumstances change. Sometimes life simply unfolds in ways that nobody wanted or expected.

And in those moments, all we can do is accept what is.

That is why Nilikupenda exists in two worlds at once. On one hand, it is a song about letting go. On the other, it is a song about holding on—holding on to the things we love, even when we have to love them from afar.

Of course, music belongs as much to the listener as it does to the artist. What Nilikupenda means to me may not be what it means to you.

So when you listen to it, what does it bring out of you? What memories, emotions, or stories does it awaken?

You can listen to the track here, or on Spotify.

If you'd like to support me directly, you can purchase Nilikupenda on Bandcamp.