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Photo by Christopher Gardner

Making Radio Waves: Kwaku Guthrie (left) and Wes Hendrix hosting "Race for the Times" on KSJS.

On KSJS-FM, Kwaku Guthrie and Wes Hendrix talk up African awareness 12 months a year; educator Nehanda Imara sends students to Ghana in an innovative cross-cultural exchange

By Nicky Baxter

I'm live on the air at KSJS-FM (90.5)--well, almost. Actually, I'm hunkered down in the San Jose State University station's cramped broadcast booth observing Kwaku Guthrie and Wes Hendrix as they get set to crank out another edition of their Wednesday (6-7pm) talk show Race for the Times. Shifting about nervously in a ratty off-white plastic chair Hendrix has obligingly commandeered for me, I wonder if the listening audience can detect the squeaks over the airwaves.

This evening's guests--San Diego-based visual artist Albert Fennell; downtown art boutique owner Paul Hancock; and Hancock's business partner, D. Kenny Washington--are huddled at a waist-high, charcoal-colored desk facing a phalanx of microphones sprouting outward like snakes from the console. Fennell and company are here to discuss art and the black community.

Perched like a congenial predator on a swivel hipped stool directly across from them is Kwaku. His dreadlocks are in their formative stages. Not yet lengthy enough to "flash," they cling like errant vines to his dome. His intense, hawklike features suggest a man with a surplus of adrenaline.

Leaning against a blinking console, Hendrix, arms akimbo, appears more relaxed; his mellow baritone is a marked contrast to his partner's staccato bursts. He sports a neatly cropped "natural." Like his associate's, his face is lined by a neatly trimmed beard.

After the show's conclusion, Hendrix, Guthrie and I retreat to an adjacent booth even tinier than the first. Both are eager to discuss how Race for the Times--and Da Undaground, its nightly (10pm-2am) conceptual umbrella on the station--symbolizes the spirit of self-determination, certainly a strong undercurrent animating African Awareness Month.

Says Wes: "Kwaku had a vision [for an African-oriented program], and I had been thinking along the same lines and ... it just kind of happened." That was four years ago. Two years later, the scope of that vision had broadened considerably when Da Undaground bumrushed KSJS's airwaves. The programming concept, comprising provocative political talk shows, religious features and a wide spectrum of music, has developed into something of a local radio institution.

Guthrie is a 25-year-old communications graduate student and co-creator, along with Hendrix, of Race for the Times and Da Undaground. Hendrix, also in his mid-20s, has received his degree in the same department. Both are justifiably proud of their achievements.

Kwaku is convinced that Race for the Times "was the first talk show to air intercity remote broadcasts; we did one with [Louis] Farrakhan when he lectured in Oakland last fall. We do a lot of things that normally aren't done."

Hendrix picks up the thread, adding, "The kind of discussions we have, you don't have anywhere else [in the South Bay]." Both believe strongly that they have an obligation to air alternative perspectives. "We feel it's our responsibility to talk about things like Pan-Africanism, communism, Zionism. ..."

Hendrix continues the thought. "We come with the exact opposite [approach] of the mainstream media," a media that is, he argues, "overwhelmingly white-male dominated" ("and white-female," Kwaku quickly interjects).

Addressing African Awareness Month more directly, Kwaku views it as essential "because it gives people the opportunity to think about issues relating to the African community." Nevertheless, Kwaku and his broadcast buddy don't anticipate airing any special programming.

"We are probably not going to do anything different from what we normally do," Kwaku allows. Hendrix agrees: "We're all about African liberation 24/7! [Blackfolk] should always be seeking out knowledge." Hendrix admits to having slightly mixed feelings about the February festivities, maintaining that they allow European-American media and liberals to use the month get their "little token thing" on, while largely ignoring issues concerning blackfolk the remainder of the year.

Passage to Africa

While Kwaku Guthrie and Wes Hendrix keep the airwaves crackling with notions of black power, it is SJSU faculty member Nehanda Imara's intention to use the airways to achieve similar objectives. As Student Development Specialist in the college's Educational Opportunities Program department, Imara has introduced a pilot program that will send 10 students back to Africa (Ghana, to be exact) for a three-month cross-cultural studies experience.

Imara's office is cluttered but comfortable. As usual, she is bedeviled by an incessantly jingling telephone--and paper work, reams of it. She is also busy editing a scholarly essay for a national publication. Shoulder-length dreadlocks frame her attractive café-au-lait face.

The program was conceived, she says, to boost the retention rate of SJSU's U.S.-born African students. "As you probably know, the attrition rate among [black] students is extremely high. We have fewer students of African descent on campus in 1995 than in 1975." The participants will be housed at the University of Ghana, where they will learn from Ghanaian instructors using that university's curriculum and pedagogical methodologies. Under Imara's supervision, the students will also study SJSU subject matter as outlined by the university's Black Faculty and Staff Association, chaired, it so happens, by Imara herself.

Discussing the Ghanaian project within the context of African Awareness Month, Imara avers that while AAM is genuinely committed to "making others aware [of the African's contributions]," its chief function, she believes, must be expanding the awareness of U.S.-born Africans themselves. Hence, the Ghanaian cultural exchange program was initiated "as a way of boosting retention through cultural discovery," putting into practice principles implicit in African Awareness Month's theoretical basis.

Those theories aside, one wonders why there appears to be some confusion as to the "correct" designation for the 28-day celebration, which is also known as Black History Month. Imara attempts to clarify the issue. "It's been called African Awareness Month on this campus for 10 years. I certainly agree with the use of that term, because it most accurately defines our identity, culturally, historically and politically."

For Imara, "identity is a political issue that evolves over time, and in response to social conditions. At various times, we've been labeled negro, colored, Afro-American, and so forth. From my perspective, the term African is more inclusive."

Similarly, the political thrust of African Awareness Month changes, based on social realities confronting black people. "At various points," she reasons, "[AAM] has reflected [the struggle against] gangs and violence--at others, police brutality. With the rise of the Africentric movement, you saw these Africentric gurus popping up as 'leaders.' "

Imara views last October's Million Man March as a possible spark for AAM activities this year, here and elsewhere. "Folks are still rallying and organizing around that event," she says, noting that "a 10,000-man march in Sacramento is being planned for this month."

As to African Awareness Month's future, Nehanda Imara is steadfastly optimistic. As the slogan goes, "Forward ever, backwards, never."

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