Kenya’s royalty management arena is an active crime scene. That statement will get me to no end of trouble, but let me explain.
I was appointed chairman of Kenya Copyright Board (Kecobo) on May 3, 2019 but did not get into office until late November because other independent directors had not been picked and we couldn’t do business.
The term ended in May last year and, although I was eligible for re-appointment, I didn’t hear from the appointing authority and I was, therefore, effectively fired at that point. It’s becoming a habit.
Kecobo are the custodians of copyright in Kenya. They maintain a registry of rights and oversee enforcement of rights of copyright holders—a job the organisation, which is well run by a couple of good public servants, does.
Many sectors, such as publishing and film, are run by corporate entities which are able to protect their own rights and collect royalties without too much fuss, where necessary with the help of the courts.
The problem—and the money, I should say—is with music. That one-man guitarist with gold in his throat has to register his copyright and collect royalties from a club in Moyale that plays his music. This guy maybe just comes to River Road to record his music but has serious challenges collecting his money.
In comes the collection management organisations (CMOs). These are private companies, owned by the musicians and managed by people hired by the artistes.
The only reason they exist is to collect royalties and distribute them to members and to represent them in enforcing their rights. Problem is, they don’t always do that and, when they do, the method they use and the amounts they share out are a disgrace.
CMOs are the Mbo-i-Kamitis of the modern day—collective organisations formed by members for their own benefit but which are hijacked by managements and are plundered and the members oppressed and impoverished. This seems to be the Kenyan way since our concept of government follows the same template.
As a matter of fact, the situation was so bad that folk needed to go to prison and CMOs stop existing. The simple processes of registering rights, collecting and distributing royalties are, in terms of complexity, kindergarten tasks. Collection and payment can take place instantaneously, without the intervention of a Mbo-i-Kamiti.
You can witness me shoot someone on Kenyatta Avenue but you still can’t wrestle me to the ground, tie me up and ferry me to Kamiti Maximum Security Prison and say: “Lock up this murderer and throw away the key.” You will still need to take me to court and provide evidence of what you saw.
A digital system at Kecobo is now in operation and, ideally artistes can register their works and upload them from their mobile devices from wherever they are.
Within that system is a payment module which enables the consumer to remit payments to CMOs and enables Kecobo to monitor the collection and distribution of funds. And it helps Kecobo to enforce a ratio: 30 per cent for administrative expenses and 70 per cent sent to the copyright owners.
A forensic audit was conducted and the reports given to the police for investigation and, by the time I left, a couple of folks were in court. I ran out of time and went home with a very strong sense of mission-unaccomplished.
First, the CMOs are politically way too powerful and entrenched, especially in central Kenya. My last months in office were partially occupied by beating off a spirited attempt at removing a senior member of staff.
I believed that this was their doing, exploiting their access to high office to settle scores and frighten staff into withholding enforcement action.
I think it was also a leveraging of the political poison in the public service at the time where a person of a certain community who was in a senior position walked around with a big target mark on their back.
The Lord may have withheld many talents from us but he gave us the singular capacity to dig in and refuse to move—like a mule. We were sworn to serve the interests of that one-man guitar and protect our staff.
Not going with the flow was, of course, the career equivalent of putting a shotgun to your testicular nether worlds and pulling the trigger. But if you can’t keep your promises and do what is right by your staff, what business do you have in leadership, especially in the public sector?
There should be no human intervention in collecting and distributing royalties. And it should cost no more than M-Pesa.
I exaggerate, but any person who has paid themselves an allowance for loud suits from the income of wonderfully talented artistes who, as a result, can barely afford a meal should be handed over to those men in Subarus with Sudanese registration numbers and no questions asked as to their fate.
The apps should be spruced up, the rights registry refined, more thorough audits carried out, investigations and prosecutions speeded up. And all stakeholders, especially the artistes, should be thoroughly educated about their rights and the technology.
