PROFILE: How Dennis Njenga built Kaka Empire, and what it takes to make a King

Dennis Njenga has seen so much death in his lifetime that he says it doesn’t even faze him anymore. He watched all his childhood friends get gunned down by police for engaging in crime, he lost both his parents within a span of two years when he was still a teenager, and his only brother passed away a few years ago in Tanzania.

These deaths broke him, and yet, each time, he picked the pieces right back up, dusted off his shoulders and kept moving, never once letting the pain or numbness of it all halt his spirit.

And so, over the years, he has done everything from odd market jobs to white collar office jobs to make ends meet and take care of his family, just like his father taught him at his death bed.

Mr. Njenga - known to his friends and family as just 'Kamlesh' - was once a prolific footballer, and even secured a slot to go play abroad, but his father advised him against it because that meant abandoning his studies, which was something that he was simply just not going to allow.

So, after his father passed on, he was forced to drop out of school for lack of fees and began carrying for people sacks of waru at Kimende market for meagre pay; he also cleaned bars and video shops and did all manner of blue-collar work before eventually managing to go back to school. From there, he never looked back.

Mr. Njenga previously worked in both the banking and insurance sectors, picking up a million accomplishments along the way like; Golden Customer Product Adviser NIC Bank, Youngest Team Leader Personal Banking NIC Bank, Youngest Team Leader Retail Banking NIC Bank, Unit Manager at Pan Africa Life Assurance Company, and Branch Manager at Pan Africa Life Assurance Company.

He is now the Co-Founder, Head of Talent, and Managing Partner at Kaka Empire, a record label he envisioned, established and runs with his high school desk-mate and longtime best friend, rap maestro King Kaka.

Besides King Kaka, he manages an impressive roster of artists under the label including Femi One and Jadi, and has been instrumental in the careers of other past signees like Avril, Timmy T-Dat, Arrow Bwoy, comedian Owago Onyiro, and Tanzanian singer Rich Mavoko.

For his work in the industry, he has scooped up a few awards along the way such as; Top 40 under 40 Founders Africa 2024, Top 40 under 40 Kenya Men 2023, Top 100 Executive Awards 2023, People’s Choice Award 2023, and Music Business Executive among others.

Mr. Njenga met Citizen Digital’s IAN OMONDI for breakfast and told him he is finally at peace with life, no matter what comes his way.

Why do people call you ‘Kamlesh’?

When I was in Class 8, there was a lot of beef between Calif Records and Scratch Records. My neighbours Ray and Tall used to record their music at Scratch, so one day I went with them just to experience what happens at the studio, and ended up doing a small rap.

Kamlesh Pattni was in the news a lot at the time because of the Goldenberg scandal. So, because my middle name is Kamau, guys at the studio just started calling me ‘Kamlesh’ and I stuck with it as my rap name.

What happened to your rap career?

I joined Eastleigh High School where I met King Kaka, who was my desk-mate, and we started doing a few rap battles here and there.

One day we went to Madaraka to record at rapper Calvo Mistari’s studio and they told us to spit a few bars for them first so that they could decide whether or not we were worth their time.

King Kaka went first and did his poetry thing and they were impressed. Then I did my rap and Calvo said “Hii kitu huwezani nayo bro.” That was the end.

So Calvo Mistari is to blame for the death of your rap dream?

You can say that! [Laughs]

When you think about your childhood, what dominates your mind?

The environment we were in, I think. All my peers died by the time they were 16, because they all ended up in crime.

We lived in Pumwani in a two-room house; one served as the bedroom and sitting room, the other was the kitchen. It was a bit strenuous because we were five siblings in that house, alongside our parents and the househelp.

But what I’m proud of about my childhood is that I used to play a lot of soccer, it was the uniting factor that took us away from crime.

I played for the Mathare Youth Sports Association (MAYSA) and got an opportunity to go play in Norway but because I was in Class 8, and my father was education-oriented, I couldn’t go.

You lost your parents at a very young age, how do you remember that period being like?

I didn’t even realize what was happening then. My mum passed away when I was 13, and then my dad followed two years later.

My father moved us from Pumwani back to the village in Kimende during the period of his illness, and I was by his side till the very end; he advised me a lot during that time - about girls, drugs, and money.

After his death, I had to man up because no one else was going to provide for us. My older siblings are all women and my younger brother was in school then. We lived in my late grandmother’s house so luckily we were not paying rent, but we didn’t have food.

I started working at the market in Kimende, carrying around sacks of waru and cabbage that were being dropped off by lorries in wholesale. I would also go to newly constructed buildings and clean the rooms for small pay before people moved in. At some point I worked in a bar, and also cleaned video shops.

I didn’t fully understand what was happening, but I kind of just got into the system and started becoming an adult as a child.

My father died in 2017, but I was old enough to process grief by then. How does a 13-year-old boy process grief?

You don’t really process it, the brain sort of just blocks it, because later on in life is when I realized that I never really grieved my parents properly.

When my mum passed away, I’d just left her that morning and she was very unwell and had even lost her memory. I remember, as I was dressing up, she kept asking me, “Who are you and where are you going at this hour?” But I was just laughing with her because I couldn’t understand what was going on, and when I came back home that evening from school, I found a lot of people there and just felt a sadness, but I couldn’t even cry.

Even we were burying her, I didn’t go to view the body because it was like a terrible dream I was in. So, I couldn’t really grieve, but at some point in life it hits you.

I’ve always been a positive person; I’ve always believed that in anything I do, things are going to come my way, because I put in the work. I know that if I’m consistent and keep pushing, things will work out. Even when I was carrying those sacks of waru at the market in Kimende, I was doing it with all my hard work and soul.

When I started my first sales job at NIC Bank, because the department was still new and we were just starting out, I went into it knowing and accepting that “mimi ni fala, but I’m here to learn.”

I had one trouser that I was wearing five days a week, and got so many rejections, but I was very consistent with it. Until I became recognized and started climbing the ladder, all the way to team leader.

So then you left banking and went into the insurance sector, and later shifted to entertainment. How did that happen?

Banking is an 8-5 job; so you arrive at 7am and you close the books at 4pm, then you can go home. What I used to do was that after leaving the office, I would look for Rabbit (now King Kaka) who was always busy with a lot of things at Imenti House in town; he was selling t-shirts, doing graphics at cyber cafés, and a million other things.

We would meet at, say 6pm, and walk around town looking for things to do until 9pm when I would head back home to Kimende. During that stage is when we started creating the masterplan for Kaka Empire.

How I got to Pan Africa Life Assurance was that I went to sell an account to the then General Manager Ezekiel Owuor; he was impressed by my sales skills and just said, “Come I give you a job on this side.” Banking is rigid, while insurance is broad. So when I saw the opportunity of growth, and with better earnings, I crossed over.

What was the tipping point that landed you into entertainment?

When I was still in insurance, we used to do a lot of gigs with King Kaka; so you’d find me in the office on weekdays and in Kisii or Kakamega for shows with him on the weekend.

Gradually, we started seeing income streaming in; we were making anything between Ksh.30,000 to Ksh.100,000 in a month. So, I knew there was something there, and that if I just kept putting in the work, that money would eventually grow.

So we built a proper structure and brought in the first employee – King Kaka’s personal DJ JR – and then another guy called Brian Robotix who would run around town for us when we were promoting CDs, and then a road manager, and so on and so forth.

Eventually, when we made our first Ksh.200,000 in one month, I went to the office and handed in my resignation letter.

Kenyan record labels at that time were sort of just winging it, what did you want to achieve with Kaka Empire?

I wanted us to do things differently, because I saw what record labels were. Actually, there was no record label, I can boast and say that Kaka Empire was the first record label. What were there were studios run by producers who also acted as booking agents for musicians.

With my experience in corporate, I saw how things were done. For instance, Mondays there would be status meetings to tell us what you did the previous week and what you’re doing this new week. I knew there had to be someone called an Accountant, a Lawyer…just a basic, proper structure on how things run.

We have been here for the last nine years actively, although we started the blueprint 11 years ago, and it is those structures that keep us going on even now.

How do you walk into a corporate boardroom and convince the suits that your guy is the right person for the job?

It starts with the brand that has already been set. Before you take the product to the boardroom, how does the product look? Is the product boardroom friendly? Does it speak the values of what that company speaks or looks for?

But the most important thing is how you present yourself, as a manager. If you take your brand as seriously as that person in the boardroom takes their company, then they’ll listen to you. The way you communicate and how you dress speaks volumes.

I remember when we were looking for our first endorsement for King Kaka, I walked into a meeting with an agency in a suit and tie. They looked at me and said; “The managers we have seen here before usually come in hats and sagged jeans, looking like artists themselves…but you’re different.”

Which of the artists that you manage under Kaka Empire gives you the most headache? I promise I won’t tell.

[Laughs] Each brand has its own unique challenges, so I can’t say there’s a specific one that gives me more headache than the other; they all have different personalities.

Hahah! Alright. You’re doing a sort of documentary about yourself. As someone whose entire job entails being behind the scenes, why did you feel the need to come out in front of the camera now?

Music managers, or anyone who is behind artists and other creative brands, the people who put in the work and burn the midnight candle, don’t really get recognized. But over the last two years I’ve gotten a lot of recognition; I was recognized by The People Daily as one of the industry shakers, I was nominated for The People’s Choice Awards, I was nominated for an Executive Award in Tanzania, I was recognized by Business Daily for ‘Top 40 Under 40’ in Kenya, later I was also recognized by ‘Top Forty Under 40 Africa.’ All this for the work I’ve done in the industry.

This showed me that there’s a lot I’m not giving out, so it’s important for me to tell my story and act as a point of reference for people who want to venture into this type of business to know that their efforts will matter in the end.

The mini-documentary is titled ‘The King Maker,’ what does that mean?

It’s simple, really; I’ve made kings. I’ve made big brands. I’ve made household names, and I’m proud of that. Apart from the brands I work directly with, in the industry at large I have almost all the brands in some way; either I’ve given them work or advice.

What have you learnt about artists, in general, after all these years interacting with them?

First of all, musicians are humans; you have to deal with them the same way you would deal with your younger siblings or children. What you need to have are people management skills, which I think I got from my days in banking and insurance.

Whenever a creative feels like now they’re well-known, things become different, and they start thinking they know better than you as their manager. But it is the constant reminder to them that we’re a team and we’re here to win together.

What does it take for you, as the manager who does the donkey work, to take the back seat and watch all the glory being given to the artist who just shows up and puts their signature?

For you to be a manager you have to be very humble, and recognize that you cannot be bigger than your brand or talent, and that has to be with you every day. You have to understand that your reward is not immediate; for instance, I’ve worked for 9 years and only just started getting some recognition.

Look at it this way; as a manager, if your artist strikes a deal with a corporate and gets a million shillings, you’re only going to get between 10%-20% of that amount. So you have to stay humble and not allow yourself to start getting jealous about that disparity, because then there’s nowhere you or the artist will go. You need to understand your role and where you lie.

Of the multitude of awards and recognition you’ve received over the years, which would you run into a burning building to save?

I dropped out of school at 15, and got an opportunity to go back and repeat from Form Two when I was turning 17. My sister gave me Ksh.6,000 and I enrolled into Kimende High School. That money was only covering half of the term, and I didn’t have anyone else to pay for my fees after that.

Luckily, through God, there’s a company called Carbacid Investments that mines carbon dioxide in those sides of Kenya. They came up with a programme to give out scholarships to the top three students in every stream at the school, so I ensured that I was always in the top three, because then that meant my school fees were covered for the rest of the year.

What used to happen is that each time you were in that top three list, you were given a certificate from the company; those are the accreditations I am most attached to, purely because of the hardship I went through – sometimes having to go without food – to just make sure my name was always on the list.

What season do you think you are in life right now?

I’m at a stage of self-actualization. I’m happy and contented with life.

What period were you most conflicted?

When I was around 33; I lost my younger brother then. The last call I had with him was when he was in bed sick, and then he passed away in Tanzania, so I had to go down there alone and bring back his body. I was also undergoing a lot of personal issues in my life then, trying to figure out where I was and where I needed to be, so it was a really confusing stage in my life.

I was looking at things and saying ‘I have achieved a lot in terms of business, but why am I not happy?’ But then I read somewhere that at the point in your life when things seem very confusing, that’s when you go hard.

What are some of your fears and anxieties in life now?

None. If its death, I’ve seen people very close to me dying. I lost all of my childhood friends to crime. My dad passed away in our house and I’m the one that cleaned his body and took it to the mortuary and personally inserted it into those freezers then clothed it on burial day.

So, I don’t fear nothing, not even death. I’m at peace.

In another dimension, who would you rather be sitting here having this coffee and conversation with?

My dad; he was a very big influence on my life, I looked up to him a lot, and he taught me the value of family. I saw it in how he raised us and how he used to work very hard to ensure that we had something on the table, even on very terrible days when he had nothing left in him to give.

The other person would be my daughter, she’s turning eight this year and we talk abut everything. Just recently we were watching my interview on TV as it was being aired, and when I was asked who inspires me and I said myself, she got very angry and told me “You should have said your daughter.”[Laughs]

How did how you were raised influence how you’re raising your children?

That’s a good question, and it’s funny you should ask because I’ve actually been thinking a lot about it lately. I don’t want my son or daughter to grow up to be weak, I want them to be as strong as I am. And, because I went through a bit of hardship, I tend to give them everything that I did not have. The bad thing about that is that if you give kids everything they want, they tend to get comfortable. So, it’s a very delicate balance.

What kind of boss are you?

I’m people-driven. I value people more than even the income that we bring in or the assets that we have as a company. For me, people are everything, and if my people are happy, then I know the company will have longevity.

What inspired the rebranding from Rabbit to Kaka Sungura to now King Kaka? From a managerial perspective.

We recognized that for any musician, your audience changes every four years; like the normal secondary school life. Even if you look at the normal trends of music, every four years a new genre erupts.

There was the period when HipHop was huge, then four years elapsed and music became more commercial, after another four years came Gengetone, and now we have Arbantone; in another four years we’ll have something else.

So, we realized that as this cycle goes on, your brand is also getting old, and the type of audience and the music they resonate with is no longer the same. Because when you’re in campus you’re not listening to the same music you were listening to in high school.

Rabbit was a street/hustler brand; Kaka Sungura was a more polite, laid-back personality with a knack for poetry; then we grew up and asked ourselves how to get him into the boardrooms, and that’s how he became King Kaka.

So, he stopped wearing the beanies and polo shirts that were his trademark look then and took up suits and ties. Because, if you think about it, the people he was entertaining in high school, are the ones who were now working as managers and decision makers in these boardrooms.

What makes an artist, talent or hard work?

Hard work is number one. You can have zero talent, but if you work so hard at it, people will notice you.

What is the one thing you think I should’ve asked you that I didn’t?

Maybe I could just give parting shot:

Life has its own stages. For any career path that you choose, there are times you will fail, and other times that you will succeed. When you fail, don’t be discouraged; when you succeed, be very worried.