By: Oluwatise Benson
It’s 8pm, on my way home after another long Friday at work, nodding my head to “emosé’s Goaliath” and the next second, I was gripping the side bar of the keke like my life depended on it. if I’m being sincere, it did, and in that split second everything around me went silent. it felt like the world was holding its breath. My life didn’t flash like lightning, it flickered like a reel of soft, quiet moments I didn’t know I treasured. I saw my mum’s laughter, The Boys’ group bants on twitter, the small joys I usually rush past. I thought, “So this is it?” To my surprise, nothing. No crash, just tires screeching, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest, and the grateful feeling of still being here.
That 2 minutes incident got me thinking, some say when we die, that’s it. Curtains closed. Another school of thought that African cultures belong to is; death isn’t the end, it’s just a long breath between lives. The soul doesn’t retire, it recycles. In music, especially the kind Kendrick Lamar makes, you’ll hear whispers of that same idea. Maybe we don’t disappear, maybe we transform, maybe we keep returning until we get it right.
In many African traditions, from the Yoruba of Nigeria to the Akan of Ghana, reincarnation isn’t a fantasy. It’s fact. Not everyone comes back, but when they do, it’s often into the same family tree they once climbed.
A newborn might be called “Babatunde” in Yoruba, meaning “Father has returned” or a child born with a mark or birthmark might be seen as an “abiku”, a spirit who comes and goes, testing life like it’s a river they’re not sure they want to cross.
In these traditions, the spirit is everlasting. It leaves the body like a traveler leaving home for another journey, but it always finds a new path to walk. Life is a circle, not a straight line and you hear that on repeat in Kendrick’s music.
Kendrick has a track titled “reincarnated” in his recent album, GNX and the spirit of it also runs deep in songs like “The Heart Part 5,” and parts of Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers.
In reincarnated, he takes us on a journey through imagined past lives, channeling legends like John Lee Hooker and Billie Holiday in the first and second verse respectively, each struggling with addiction, fame, and loss. According to me, reincarnated isn’t just about rebirth, it’s also about owning every past form, flaw, and lesson to ultimately step into truth and purpose. What if that’s also our souls cycling through new lessons?
Every Kendrick album feels like a spiritual report card. He’s not just talking about now, he’s remembering past versions of himself, old souls, familiar battles and same lessons in different bodies and that’s similar to African belief, we return to finish what we started and correct our past mistakes. Talking about, cycles of trauma, violence and cycles of healing isn’t only poetic, it’s ancestral too.
In Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers, he digs deep into generational wounds, talking about breaking patterns, healing childhood pain, and learning how to be better not just for himself but for his children and his generations to come. That’s reincarnation.
Living long enough to become who you needed when you were hurting.
We don’t have to chant over a fire to believe in spirits. Sometimes, all it takes is a song that moves us in a way we can’t explain, a lyric that feels like it was written for a version of us that hasn’t even arrived yet and if we don’t get it right this time, maybe, just maybe, we’ll be back to try again.
If I ever get the chance to come back, I don’t want to return as someone rich or famous, I want to come back with peace stitched into my bones. Maybe as a quiet rapper in a small town in any of the Scandinavian countries or a tree that listens more than it speaks. I’d like to come back softer, slower, more grateful. Someone who dances without waiting for music, someone who loves without holding back. Not to fix the past, but to live the future better. If reincarnation is real, let it bring me back as someone who knows that being alive is already the prize. ♾️