I am obsessed with Wanlov the Kubolor’s newest single, “Trumu.” Since last night, my mind has played back the catchy tune on repeat, rerunning incongruent captions, disturbing images of trash lined beaches juxtaposed against lovers propositioning each other. The song’s imagery, lyrics, and unrelated captions offer a message about queer freedom, sexual autonomy, and consent, environmental destruction, and transnational solidarity.
The opening lyrics of the song are:
Make I pepe for your trumu,
I wanna cum in your booty.
These words, spoken earnestly by Wanlov in a flowing blue gown, a flowery red and blue bowtie, beard neatly trimmed, cowry shell rings on each finger of both hands, and bluish sunglasses. He sits on a blue push truck, stylistically engraved with the word “Trumu,” bare feet dangling over the truck’s edge. The lover, to whom he addresses these words is a busty African American (we learn this in the credits) whose bluish gray afro blows with the ocean’s waves, her matching sunglasses, light blue ruffle cape, and long tie mirroring Wanlov’s. If there is any distinction between them, it is that his gown flows while hers accentuates her chest, stomach, thighs, and ass. The video is blue – blue ocean, blue sky, blue tinted sunglasses, blue axles on the blue push truck, bluish black actors. Out of focus, on the sandy beach are mountains of trash, and scattered black, blue, and orange garbage bags along the coastline. The white waves move in and out, unrelenting.
The slow syncopated rhythms of the music, Wanlov’s harmonizing with St. Beryl’s soprano lull you into what is to come. An early shot of Wanlov, hands in a prayer pose, the L in Kubolor rendered with two bare feet, perhaps gestures towards the fetish elements embedded in the video. The viewer is told that “Wanlov recently visited Kenya and learned how to speak Swahili.” Thus, the video is subtitled.
Make I pepe for your trumu,
[Welcome to Africa.]
I wanna cum in your booty.
[You are truly beautiful.]
From the closed captioning, we are to understand that “trumu” is the word for Africa. And “booty” is beautiful. For those who might not speak pidgin, a more straightforward translation of both phrases is, May I cum in your ass? In response, the lover replies:
If you pepe for my trumu,
[I am so happy to be in Africa.]
I’ll let you cum in my booty.
[Thank you for calling me beautiful.]
“Trumu” as the song’s title and term for Africa is rich with complexity. Trumu is Akan for asshole. It is also a derogatory term that Ghanaian media, anti-queer government officials, and their accomplices have taken to calling LGBTQI+ people. For example, during hearings for the anti-LGBT+ Bill in Ghana’s parliament, several online outlets and radio stations describing the bill as the “Trumu-Trumu Bill.” In Parliament, the executive director of the so-called coalition on Proper Human Sexual Rights called queer people a “trumu minority,” later on claiming that his group will introduce a “trumu trumu levy” to help pay for the bill.
It is not always easy to reclaim derogatory language, but Wanlov seems to be doing a fairly good job. In 2021, following the introduction of the anti-queer bill, Wanlov collaborated with fellow artists Angel Maxine and Sister Deborah to release “Wo fie” (in your home). With that song, the artists highlighted Ghana as a “colonially homophobic” state that was further trying to silence advocacy for queer freedom through the bill. Yet, the artists wanted to call attention to the Ghanaian people that despite what the state claimed, LGBTIQ is part of Ghana and Ghanaians.
Kojo Basia, ebi wo wo fie
Supi supi, ebi wo wo fie
Trumu trumu, ebi wo wo fie
Wo ara o, ebi wo wo fie
“Kojo basia,” “supi supi,” “trumu trumu” refer respectively to gender expansiveness, lesbian and anal (presumably gay) sex. Although Kojo basia is increasingly derogatory and used to describe a man considered to behave like a woman, there is evidence to suggest that once upon a time, the term was, at least, neutral in its use. Supi supi and trumu trumu on the other hand are clearly pejorative and by using this language to assert belonging in the Ghanaian home, the artists entreat Ghanaians to consider how their own families could be swept up by targeted violence against queer Ghanaians.
After their 2021 hit, Wanlov and Angel Maxine started the “Trumu Trumu Party,” self-described as “Ghana’s only progressive political party.” The party platform, according to their Twitter bio is –
We go chop your anus, if you want, but our main focus is making Ghanaians live in social dignity.
[With your consent, we will fuck you in the ass… and you get the rest.]
In November 2023, Maxine released “We no go vote,” highlighting several political reasons why Ghanaians should refuse to participate in a civic process that discounts urgent social needs. Calling attention to currency instability, homophobia, environmental destruction, among other things, “We no go vote” is a queer anthem of political exhaustion, while the Trumu Trumu party offers the possibility of collectively creating a dignified life for all Ghanaians.
In “Trumu” we get a view into what that dignified life might look like. The centrality of consent to the Trumu Trumu platform is evident in the song’s opening lyrics. “Make I pepe for your trumu” is a solicitation that affirms the erotic autonomy of all parties involved. Welcome to Trumu/Africa, where we center consent and sexual autonomy in our dealings.
Africa as trumu further challenges the tired claim that queer sexuality is not our culture. Rather, “trumu” affirms queerness and pushes popular understandings of African sexuality to elevate consent and mutual respect. When St. Beryl sings, “if you pepe for my trumu [I am so happy to be in Africa] / I’ll let you cum in my booty [that you for calling me beautiful]” she demonstrates enthusiastic consent. Wanlov pumps his fist to show his joy and pleasure, the two actors share a bottle of blue sparkling wine as they watch the sunset on their blue trumu push truck.
The reference in the subtitled lyrics to welcoming an outsider to Trumu/Africa call attention to the possibilities for transnational and Black diasporic solidarity. Ghana’s courting of African Americans in particular, through the Year of Return alongside other economic and political policies presents an opportunity for this demographic to fight alongside Ghanaians for dignity and autonomy. Lastly, the location of the shoot, on polluted Sango Beach in Teshie-Nungua and the hashtag at the end of the song, #StopWasteColonialism bring up an issue close to Wanlov’s heart - environmental destruction (see for example, “For the River”). On this issue in particular, Wanlov’s work has highlighted the state’s complicity in destroying the country’s national resources against the consent of the nation’s indigenous peoples.
There’s much more to be said here, which I might pick back up later, but for now, I will leave with my sincere gratitude for Kubolor’s brilliance, clarity of conscience, and creative expansiveness.