Music and Social Change

in South Africa

K AT HRY N OLSEN

Music and Social Change

in South Africa
Maskanda Past and Present

T E M PL E U N I V E R SI T Y PR ES S
PH I L A DE L PH I A

TEMPLE UNIVERSITY PRESS

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19122
www.temple.edu/tempress
Copyright 2014 by Temple University
All rights reserved
Published 2014
All reasonable attempts were made to locate the copyright holders for the lyrics published in this
book. If you believe you may be one of them, please contact Temple University Press, and the
publisher will include appropriate acknowledgment in subsequent editions of the book.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Olsen, Kathryn, 1957 author.
Music and social change in South Africa : maskanda past and present / Kathryn Olsen.
pages cm
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-1-4399-1136-5 (hardback : alk. paper)
ISBN 978-1-4399-1138-9 (e-book)
1. Folk songs, ZuluSouth AfricaHistory and criticism. 2. Zulu (African people)
MusicHistory and criticism. 3. Folk musicSouth AfricaHistory and criticism. I. Title.
ML3760.O44 2014
781.62963986068dc23

2014008084
The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of the American National Standard
for Information SciencesPermanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48
1992
Printed in the United States of America
246897531

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For Shiyani Ngcobo

Contents

Acknowledgments ix
Prologue xi
1| Maskanda Researched: The Parallax View

2| Maskandas Early Years

20

3| Maskanda as Commodified Tradition

56

4 | Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa

70

5 | Women Playing Maskanda

141

6 | Experiencing Transformation

185

Notes 197
References 205
Index 213

Acknowledgments

any people have assisted and supported me in the production of

this book, and I am extremely grateful to them all. The musicians
who have been under the spotlight in this text, most notably Shiyani
Ngcobo and Phuzekhemisi, have played a central role in my understanding
not only of their own music but also of the music of their fellow maskanda
musicians.
My friend and mentor, Christopher Ballantine, has been a never-ending
source of guidance and inspiration. He is all that I aspire to be as an academic. My colleagues at University of KwaZulu-Natal, particularly my neighbor, Dr. Christopher Cockburn, have all been supportive and helpful. I would
also like to thank Sara Cohen for her patience and positive approach to my
work. Finally, I thank my husband, Peter, and my children, Lisa, Nicholas,
and Kara, for their love during particularly trying times.

Prologue

October 2, 1999
Durbans city hall has been claimed! The people are here happy in anticipation! Tonight the maskanda legends, Phuzekhemisi, iHashiElimhlophe, and
UmfazOmnamyama, perform in the city hall that was reserved in the old
regime for white cultureand although the weight of this past is felt in the
architecture, and the rows of chairs neatly ordered for the audience, the hall
can barely contain the energy of this celebratory event.
Then at last the backing band of drummer, bassist, and concertina player
are on stage. Guitars in hand and robed in animal skins, most notably that of
the leopard, the maskanda icons tantalize the audience with short improvisatory solo guitar passagestuning us in to what is to come. The entrance at the
chorus, of a troupe of athletic impi styled dancers magnifies this dramatic display of commonly recognized (and revered) symbols of Zuluness. The claim on
this venue reaches a peak as each musician in turn recites his izibongo, drawing
out wild enthusiasm from the audiencean enthusiasm which some cannot
keep in their chairstheir delight bursts into individual displays of ingoma
dance on the floor in front of the stage. This is who I amthis is what makes
me proudthis is where I belongthe performance asserts their Zuluness.

askanda is more than a musical style. It is an experience. It is also

a place where identities are inhabited. Maskanda has long since
been claimed as Zulu music. Most followers of maskanda proudly
celebrate its Zuluness. Indeed it is often heavily marked with commonly
accepted symbols of Zulu heritage. One cannot escape this ethnic affiliation
even though the idea that maskanda is Zulu music is now being questioned.
All the musicians who feature in this story of maskanda are Zulu. However,
each one has a different version not only of what constitutes personal identity
but also of the relationship between maskanda and Zuluness.
The past features strongly in maskanda. It is a meaning-making tool that
is used primarily as trope of belonging. Various pasts are recalled and contextualized in quite different ways by the musicians who feature in this book.
These pasts are made to serve the present as ultimately maskanda is about

xii|Prologue

personal, lived experience and aspirations. Maskanda thus exists in how it is

imagined and how it is experienced. It is vibrant and dynamic and changes
as peoples experiences change. There is a repository of musical processes and
ideological images that are drawn upon in different ways by different musicians associated with the label maskanda. Some of these resources feature
more prominently than others.
The most dominant and uniform feature of maskanda across time is the
use of the guitar. Maskanda musicians are most commonly thought of as
guitarists although the music does feature a range of instruments, including
bass guitar, drums (usually a western drum kit), concertina, and violin. A
standardized form that prescribed how the music was presented was developed at the time when maskanda took shape as a genre after its commercialization in the late 1950s and 1960s. As with most standardized forms, the
template is often varied from one composition to the next. Some musicians tend to follow particular aspects of this template more consistently
than others. Furthermore, it is notable that during the years when musicians
were constrained by apartheid, the template was followed more religiously
than it is now in a post-apartheid environment when much greater flexibility is evident.
This book is a product of nearly ten years of being tuned in to maskanda
performance. I have attended many concerts, particularly in and around Durban, and listened to as many commercially released recordings as I could lay
my hands on. Many maskanda CDs are not sold in mainstream music stores
located in upmarket shopping malls. They have to be sought in stores that are
positioned in locations that intersect with the paths that are walked by most
followers of maskanda.
I first became aware of maskanda through the world of academia in
1999, when I registered at the University of Natal for a bachelor of arts honors degree. Up until that point I knew absolutely nothing about maskanda
or the musicians who made it. This is indeed quite remarkable seeing that I
had lived in KwaZulu-Natal since I was two years old. Until 1999, the path
of my existence and the paths of maskanda musicians had not intersected,
except perhaps incidentally, anonymously, or under the weight of the identities assumed and controlled by the apartheid regime. The guitar music
that I had heard on the streets of the middle-class suburb where I lived
as a young child was nameless in my world, just as those who played this
music were nameless. As a young child, my musical world was occupied by
the piano music of Mozart, Chopin, and Schumann. By the time I was a
teenager, I had added Led Zeppelin, Yes, and Black Sabbath to my listening
repertoire. And (not that I would have noticed) by this time the Zulu guitarist had disappeared from the streets.

Prologue|xiii

Mine was a middle-class upbringing that took economic privilege for

granted. I went to government-subsidized schools (reserved, of course, for
white children). My high-school education at a government school in
an upmarket suburb about thirty kilometers north of Durban, cost a mere
twenty-five rand per year, and there was free transport from my home on a
smallholding to school and back each day.
I first met two of the musicians who are part of this study, Phuzekhemisi
and Shiyani Ngcobo, in 1999. Over the years some measure of familiarity
and trust has developed between us, and both these musicians have been
invaluable guides through my experiences of maskanda. My relationship with
Shiyani Ngcobo, in particular, developed beyond that of researcher into one
of friendship. Shiyani and his family have had a considerable impact on my
own understanding of the world that we share. While Shiyanis personality
was very similar to my own, our perceptions of life (and death) were often
starkly different. The disparities in our experiences, our opportunities to earn
a stable income, and our senses of agency had a marked impact on the formation of these different perceptions. While these differences were certainly not
enough to prevent a friendship, economic inequality carries many anxieties
that mar the development of an easy relationship. Nevertheless, by acknowledging our different needs and the different kinds of support and information
that we had to offer, we built a productive reciprocal relationship. I was deeply
affected by Shiyanis death on February 18, 2011. He should not have died
then. He died as he had livedtrapped in a place heavy with superstition and
uncompromising alienation.
I have experienced a remarkable sense of goodwill from the musicians with
whom I have worked. My interactions with women maskanda musicians have
always been easier than my interactions with the men. These interactions with
women seem to have been premised on the idea that you are one of us, because
you are a woman. My whiteness and my economic privilege often appeared
to be less significant than our common status as women and our often-assumed
vulnerability at the hands of what are seen as dominant, exploitative males.
A central concern of this book is that of transformation in South Africa
following the first democratic elections in 1994. The hopes of social renewal
that accompanied the demise of apartheid brought expectations that there
would be significant changes in South Africa, changes that would make
good the social and economic inequalities that were a consequence of racial
discrimination. My concern is with maskanda musicians experiences of transformation as they are expressed in and through maskanda. I began this study
assuming, albeit covertly, that transformation is played out as a challenge to
established ways of thinking, being, and doing. However, the deeper I got into
the study, the more I was pushed to question the nature of action that is put

xiv|Prologue

forward as transformative. This study of the perceptions and experiences of

maskanda musicians looks to the relationship between past and present, old
and new, in order to register the nuances of change and the possibilities of
social renewal in the new South Africa.
A significant portion of this study is concerned with the songs of quite a
wide selection of maskanda musicians. The translation of the lyrics of these
songs has not always been easy. Because the lyrics in maskanda songs are
often not literalat times they require insight into Zulu cosmology, history,
and the poetic use of the Zulu languageI have worked with three translators: Lungile Gumbi, Luyanda Masikane, and Lindokuhle Mpungose. In this
way, translations could be checked and cross-checked.

Music and Social Change

in South Africa

|1
Maskanda Researched
The Parallax View

esearch is a complex process. We do research. Many of my nonEnglish-speaking students say, We make a research, and this does
indeed describe the research process. Research is after all driven by
conscious action. In this chapter, I describe my consciousness in the act of
research into the maskanda domain. This explanation takes shape as a narrative that moves into maskanda from different starting points as I explore different ways of conceptualizing maskanda, what it becomes, how it is used and
experienced, and of course also what it may mean.
The ethnomusicological project is concerned in the broadest terms with
musical representations of social experience. From its inception as a discipline, ethnomusicologists have recognized music as social practice and
understood that it is embedded in a social context rather than an adjunct
to it. Musical practices are thus seen as taking shape within the framework
of peoples experience. Responses to this view of music within the discipline
have been varied, as ethnomusicologists, like those they study, cannot escape
the ideologies of their day. To be sure, the application of this premise in a
contemporary context is quite different from what it was in the past when
musical cultures were studied as self-contained units. The study of any particular musical practice today inevitably calls for an investigation of a range
of political, social, and economic theories, motivations, and ideals. As a consequence, the ethnomusicologist has to make choices from an expansive,
interdisciplinary theoretical resource. These choices impact significantly on

2|Chapter 1

how the field is conceptualized and represented. A primary issue is how the
researcher positions her- or himself in relation to the chosen field. The idea of
emic and etic positions has indeed been quite prominent in the analysis of the
research process in ethnomusicology. However, recognition of the researchers
position as either insider or outsider does not conclude a debate on the nature
of the relationship between the observer and the observed and what is produced as a consequence of their interaction. Although I am in many senses an
outsiderI am after all not a maskanda musicianmy engagement with maskanda musicians and what they do means that I am inserted into the field of
maskanda; I become, albeit in a way that is different from those who I study,
part of their world. The most obvious consequence of this insertion can be
seen in the process of gathering information from maskanda musicians. During these interactions, maskanda musicians respond to my presence and to all
that it means to them. Similarly, I respond to them and all that they mean to
me. The story is thus made as a consequence of the interaction between these
two positions. Hence as iek expresses in his notion of the parallax, subject
and object cannot be seen as separate entities where observation takes place as
an action that is the prerogative of one party alone, namely, the observer. By
positioning the field within our line of sight the observer automatically invites
an exchange of gaze. The observed is never entirely passive in the representational process or that of making meaning. The observer and the observed are
intertwined positions that produce realities through their interactions. iek
describes the parallax as the apparent displacement of an object (the shift in
its position against a background), caused by a change in observational position that provides a new line of sight. He elaborates on this standard definition by adding:
The philosophical twist...is that the observed difference is not simply subjective, due to the fact that the same object which exists out there is seen from
two different stances...it is rather, as Hegel would have put it, that subject and
object are inherently mediated so that an epistemological shift in the subjects point of view reflects an ontological shift in the object itself. (2006, 17)

This reflexivity between subject and object in the parallax view subverts any
polarization of subject and object as happens in the naming of them as such.
Subject and object cannot be separated as each is inscribed in the other. Each
responds to the others gaze in a process that produces realities. Furthermore,
one is never entirely detached from that which one observes since the reality
I see is never wholenot because a large part of it eludes me but because
it contains a stain, a blind spot, which indicates my inclusion in it (ibid.).
Reality is understood not as a something that exists but that is nevertheless

Maskanda Researched | 3

beyond our comprehension, but rather as the unresolved paradoxes that are
an inextricable feature of our experience of reality. One reality thus cannot
be reduced to another. Phrased differently, my reality cannot be substituted
for that of the musicians whom I study. The realities that are articulated
here spring from the varied dialogues that I have initiated with the music
and musicians who are central to this study. Various realities and truths are
made in the contexts of these relationships.
Much of the information on maskanda is sourced in the actual music that
musicians produce and in the lyrics to their songs. In these instances the parallax operates in a less obvious way for the music itself does not change in
response to being observed; its meaning, however, does. The context in which
songs are experienced is drawn more purposefully in this instance into the
field of study as a background against which meaning can be sought. Just as
an epistemological shift in the subject produces an ontological shift in the
object, a contextual shift in the location of maskanda (be it across time or in a
geographical location) produces a shift in the meanings attributed to it. At different times maskanda as a body of practice has embraced different positions.
In a contemporary context the range of these positions is far more varied than
they were during apartheid.
A number of different perspectives on maskanda are covered in this book,
and while there are certainly many more perspectives than are covered here,
it is through the relationships between different perspectives that maskanda
and its range of meanings can be understood. Referring to Karatanis exploration of the critical potential of the parallax view, iek asserts the radical
critique to which I aspire, ...not as a determinate position as opposed to
another position but as the irreducible gap between the positions itself [sic]
(2006, 20). How we understand maskanda is thus dependent on the relationship between varied representations of it. Through paradigmatic shifts
brought about by the ideological perspectives of the musicians and praxial
shifts in the way I have engaged with these different perspectives, it has been
possible to produce a textured analysis that captures the nuances of different
perspectives on maskanda and on transformation in South Africa today.

Maskanda and Transformation

Music making in South Africa today is taking shape in a social environment
that is heavy with expectations of change. The life stories and compositional
choices of contemporary maskanda musicians express the way change is understood and experienced in the current political economy. Meaning is shaped
and attributed in different ways in maskanda. Song, dance, dress, and poetry
all play their part in giving expression to the experience of transformation in

4|Chapter 1

post-apartheid South Africa. At times songs are heavy with overt commentary;
at other times, the responses to a post-apartheid world are expressed in the
subtlety and nuance of poetic language and musical style.
The concept of change is not only highly politicized in South Africa, it
is also loaded with moral obligations. Politicians frequently call upon the
citizens of this country to embrace change in the hope of freedom, justice,
and equality for all. But how is change understood and experienced by the
ordinary person? Does it bring the freedom, justice, and equality frequently
referenced in political rhetoric? In order to address this question (it is by no
means my intention to answer this question conclusively), the presentation of
transformation on different public platforms is compared with the representations of transformation embedded in maskanda.
Transformation ideals are most often seen to be concerned with reversing the consequences of the exclusionary policies of apartheid. This process is most often represented as a postcolonial project that reverts easily
to the categories and constructions made to serve apartheid. The language
of transformation is thus closely entwined with identity discourse. African
Studies is often littered with suspect second order objectivisms, sweeping formulations like Bantu Philosophy and African Philosophy that have
occluded the varieties of native experience for over fifty years (Mudimbe
1993, 147). It is not as Zulu music, or black music, that I approach maskanda, but as the music of individuals, people with specific experiences,
experiences that are often the result of a social order built on prescriptive
and controlling notions of identity, particularly ethnic and racial identities.
My desire to avoid a postcolonial tendency to contain identity discourse
within the parameters set out by colonialism has steered this research in the
direction of a phenomenological or even an existential approach to identity
and human experience.
Identity has long since been recognized in social studies as a social construct. Rather than being thought of as a thing that is had, it is recognized
as a process in the making, one that is shaped by each individuals interactions
with the world around him or her. However, the way that these interactions
are conceptualized, talked about, and represented is dominated by the most
powerful elements in society. This study involves the meeting of a range of
different identities (including my own) that intersect with various positions of
power that are themselves constantly being readjusted in the current climate
of political transformation in South Africa. Maskanda performance is packed
with responses to life in South Africa, both past and present.
It was conceived and grew in the unsettled environment of the early twentieth century as a musical response to change. Zulu society had been restructured as a result of the clash between colonial and missionary ideology and

Maskanda Researched | 5

that of the Zulu nation. It is amid the distortions and disjuncture that followed
from the imposition of radically different ways of seeing, ordering, and making sense of human experience that maskanda has its roots. It is not surprising then that maskanda carries concomitant distortions and disjuncture and is
inconsistent both in its reach across time (with its paradoxical claims on both
tradition and modernity) and in its marking of place. While the ambivalence
of its location may at times be obscured by the emphasis on tradition and the
common assumption that tradition resides in a rural space, maskanda (like its
early proponents) is rooted somewhere between the rural and the urban location with each of these spaces being variously called upon as meaning-making
tools. Similarly, it is marked by musical characteristics that are categorized as
western or European practice and those that are seen as Zulu, without ever
being exclusively one or the other. Maskanda thus can perhaps be thought of
as being positioned in an in-between spaceone that was not only the place
of the Zulu migrants who first brought maskanda to life in the early decades
of the twentieth century, but also the place occupied by the majority of Zulu
people throughout the apartheid era. However, in-betweenness can only be
recognized as such when the domains on either side are constituted as formed
and functional alternatives. Settler (British and other) claims on Zulu land and
labor relied on severe exclusionary constructions of difference and an implied
hierarchy that demarcated and defined the contest over land and labor, and
they sought justification for the pursuit of dominance in Christian ideology.
A dichotomizing logic was soon infused in the everyday life of dominated and
dominant. This logic has also found its way into maskanda, as can be seen in its
dependence on (perhaps even exploitation of) the dialectical tension between
past and present, home and away, rural and urban, and Zulu and western (them
and us) for the making of meaning. The dialectical relationship between tradition and modernity is perhaps the most obvious of any such relationship in
maskanda. Both concepts are heavy with allusion not only to a series of values,
moral judgments, and ideals but also to identities. Up until the 1994 elections,
and indeed even for some time after this landmark in South African history,
maskanda performance was shaped by, and as, the experience of marginalization. Maskanda performers and those who claimed it as their own were alienated from the world of modernity, a domain of exclusivity claimed variously on
the basis of race, religion, ethnicity, class, capital, gender, and more. But theirs
was a kind of double alienation, for their world of tradition was lost to ambivalence and disjuncture. The paths of continuity had been disrupted as a result of
the breakdown in familial relationships as young men moved away from their
rural homes for long periods of time in search of work in the cities and towns
and as a consequence of religious and ideological hostility from those in positions of power.

6|Chapter 1

For many maskanda musicians, the present is conceptualized as the temporal arena of modernity and the past as the temporal arena of tradition. In
general academic discourse the inaccessibility of the past is recognized as
problematic because it can only be accessed through (often agenda-driven)
reflections and representations that recall fictions constructed in the imagination but set in real-life contexts, whereas in maskanda the inaccessibility of
the past gives it status and immunity. It is no wonder that in maskanda the
past has such an elevated role in the making of meaning. It is constructed as
an idealized location that functions as an allegory for the safety and comfort
of home. What is important here is not that it is an imagined past that is
recalled, but rather why any chosen past has relevance in the present, that is,
how the present motivates and directs the versions of the past that are recalled
in the present. Dominant groups make different pasts to those who exist on
the fringes; the histories of each are constructed according to different principles and different details emerge because they are inserted, as it were, into
a different kind of narrative home (Connerton 1989, 19). Positioning maskanda in relation to dominant discourses, be they musical, political, religious,
economic, or moral, is essential to an understanding of the language of
maskanda. While the present is experienced in the context of the past: the
different pasts that are available to us are put to work for different purposes
and the present is directed by these choices (ibid., 2), so, too, is the past constructed in relation to the present. The way identity has been expressed and
made in and through maskanda is closely tied to its claim on the past. Maskanda has not, however, simply laid claim to tradition as a way of marking its
identity; it has also been represented as tradition.
The task of researching, analyzing, and writing about maskanda music
and the personalities who bring it to life takes place within the pulse and
pandemonium of everyday life in South Africa. The complex multiplicities
of intertwined positions that are part of everyday individual experience disrupt the stark and ordered constructions of unified identities that appear in
the public domain as they are put to work in a range of different situations,
but most obviously for those vying for power. The tools of comprehensibility,
such as the categories and classifications that are given to every aspect of our
lives including music and its performers, may also serve as tools of manipulation in every version of power struggle, be it for power and dominance or as
a means of empowerment, as a way of taking charge of the circumstances of
ones social existence.

Maskanda Researched | 7

Reflections on Maskanda as Habitus

Maskanda is more than a musical practice. It is a location of experience that
embraces both the creative capacity of the individual and the forces of expectation and prescription that are imposed by its social setting and by its history.
One cannot think of maskanda exclusively as the product of oppressive dominant power structures, where dissent is substituted for complicity. The relationship between culture and society is interactiveas in the parallax each
responds to the other.
Maskanda embraces a variety of positions.1 While some positions are
assumed consciously, others seep from the unconscious; some are intentional
action, others are determined by outside ideologies. Each version of maskanda is stamped with something of its creator, and at the same time each one
is brought together as a consequence of a common system through which the
music is formulated and through which it takes shape as maskanda. Maskanda
can thus not be halted in definition. It is in this sense that Bourdieus notion
of habitus offers an appropriate way of thinking about maskanda. Rather than
being a static and contained domain, habitus references an acquired system
of generative schemes that produce thoughts, perceptions, expressions and
actionswhose limits are set by the historically and socially situated conditions of its production, the conditioned and conditional freedom it provides is as remote from creation of unpredictable novelty as it is from simple
mechanical reproduction of the original conditioning (Bourdieu 1990, 55).2
Dominant discourses that underpin the powerhouses of social, political, and
economic systems have a significant impact on the way culture takes shape.
During apartheid political ideologies were unleashed in action and rhetoric
that forced people to live the identities that were given them. Cultural production was thus severely limited by conditions imposed on society. There is
a direct correlation between the nature of the standards of practice in cultural
formations that are constituted as a body of practice (such as a genre) and
the nature of the dominant, institutionalized formations of power (Bourdieu
1993).
Maskanda is identifiable as such by the existence of particular qualities,
procedural characteristics, and features of style, all necessary definitive features of a genre. The processes through which maskanda evolved as a genre
inevitably involved some formalization of what one might reasonably assume
were the idiosyncrasies of individual expression that must have been part of
the earliest versions of this music. Maskanda emerged as a constituted body
of practice during the height of the apartheid era in the 1980s.3 Its path to
formalization was cut both by the political and economic drive of those in
power at that time and by the social resources and musical aesthetics of the

8|Chapter 1

musicians and the communities who engaged with it. There is a relationship
between the choices that musicians made and what was made available to
them in the political economy of apartheid. As maskanda has evolved over
time, the choices to take on new features and abandon or retain old ones can
indeed be linked (albeit in varying degrees) to the pressures and influences of
institutionalized positions of power. Where there is an overwhelming consistency in the musical style and in the subject matter of the lyrics, there is also
an overwhelming system of dominance in play.
Maskandas constitution as a genre not only coincided with the height of
apartheid but also with its entry into the realm of commercial production.
Once maskanda had been recognized as a possible source of income, another
layer of interaction was introduced to its domain. Its position as its capacity
to produce capital (cultural capital money), and the relationship between this
potential and the structure, which determined how this capital is distributed
(Bourdieu 1993, 30), altered significantly. The products of its new position not
surprisingly also changed.4
In an environment that is said to be transformative one would expect a
greater emphasis on remaking the maskanda domain rather than reproducing
what has gone before. South Africas history of dominance and exploitation,
and the weight of hegemonic formulations of authenticity that are a product of this history, have complicated the relationship between positions and
position-takings in an expressive domain like maskanda where the concept
of tradition is central to the meaning-making process. In the current climate
claims on tradition are often prescribed in order to count as transformative.
These claims are seen as contestations of the order imposed by western hegemony, as if they somehow annihilate the identities given under the oppressive
regime of apartheid and colonialism that preceded it. Irregular vacillations
between notional histories seem to be more easily grasped as transformative
than any creative recourse to the diverse sonic language of the here and now,
or the identities and experiences that occupy everyday life.
Bourdieu does not separate culture practice and social practice into different and separate domains; for him they are interwoven. Culture is played and
plied by social structures, and social formations are confirmed and (perhaps
to a lesser extent) challenged through culture (Bourdieu 1984). As he points
out, often the dynamics of political and ideological struggles are infused in
cultural practices through the management of aesthetic sensibilities that
direct perceptions of how things should be. This also has significant consequences for the way identities are made. Culture is closely tied to notions of
identity; thus, dominant discourses are often not only behind what is regarded
as appropriate versions of culture but also what constitutes an appropriate
identity in different contexts. Culture and identities are however not entirely

Maskanda Researched | 9

controllable. Bourdieus concern for the role of culture in the reproduction of

social structures is essentially about the self-perpetuating strategies of established institutionalized power constructs. Nevertheless, it is the capacity of
culture to work as such a powerful tool in the perpetuation of dominant institutions that also renders it a powerful tool of resistance and change, albeit
within the constraints imposed by the status quo. A central theme of this study
is just this: it explores if and how some maskanda musicians engage with the
notion of change beyond the platters of prescription supplied by those who
control their world. Following Bourdieus assertion that there is a direct correlation between cultural practice and dominant positions of power in society,
particularly those that are institutionalized, I identify some of the motivations
behind maskandas development as a constituted body of practice during the
apartheid years. Furthermore, a central paradigm underpinning this project
is that any change in cultural practice must indeed be connected to changes
in the social milieu. Art is not just the product of an artists labor, it is also an
expression of the field out of which it is produced (Bourdieu 1990, 1993).
There is nevertheless a tension in contemporary maskanda between prescriptions of style, form, and procedure and innovations that are largely a
response to changes in experience, attitudes, and ideals. The idea of change
is often framed so that old and new are set up in a comparative, and often
exclusionary, polemic that ultimately defers to struggles over ownership,
the right to particular identities, positions of power, and access to economic
resources.
An essential part of this investigation of contemporary maskanda is indeed
an investigation of how claims to authenticity are made. Taking an existential
perspective, notions of authenticity are seen as constructs that are shaped by
social contexts. The way authenticity is formulated (what is seen as constituting authentic action) is linked to a broader discourse that needs justification
for particular actions that serve specific positions. Signifiers of authenticity,
while they may be represented as fundamental essences distinguishing various categories of identity expressed in sentences that include phrases such
as women are or Zulus are, are social constructions that are grown in
response to the struggle over positions of power.5 Where marginalization
excludes groups of people on the basis of these identities, dominant groups
strongly direct how signifiers are made.
I return for a moment to cultures capacity to shape social experience,
focusing not only on the particular features of maskanda as a performance
style per se but also as one that comes with already designated notions of
identity, ownership, location, and social purpose. Music (like other performed expressive genres) stands out as a form of cultural production that
has an immediate and powerful experiential dimension. In the moment of

10|Chapter 1

performance, the ordinary boundaries of everyday experience can be transcended and both performers and their audiences can be transported to new
and different realities. While knowing is generally regarded as a cognitive
process that takes place only in the mind, for maskanda musicians, knowing often takes place in and through the body. It is as an experiential type of
knowledge that may never translate into articulated thoughts and ideals, that
maskanda performance is most commonly processed and understood. It often
seems that those who claim it as their own, do so almost unconsciously and
are rather taken aback when asked why they choose to play maskanda rather
than any other kind of music. This would suggest that maskanda is engaged
as an experience rather than a set of ideas. The body grasps knowledge in a
deeply subjective and embedded way that takes on performed identities as
reality. It believes in what it does.6 It does not simply represent something outside of itself; it pulls these realities into the here and now. What is learned by
body is not something that one has, like knowledge that can be brandished,
but something that one is (Bourdieu 1990, 73). Performance thus carries the
capacity to reconstruct the way people experience themselves, a capacity that
not only has the potential to challenge the controls that any social order has
on what people feel about their lives, but also how they think about it, since
the external ritualthe act of participationperformatively generates its
own ideological foundation (iek 1994, 59). Maskanda can therefore be
seen as having the capacity to call its followers (I use the word call here as
it is used in Althussers notion of interpellation),7 not simply as a distraction
from the basic realities of everyday life but as ideological rooting or frame
of reference for their experience. Performance gives agency where otherwise
it might be lacking. Furthermore, it is not only a way of trying on different
identities, with different available paths of action; it also makes memories of
these alternative identitiesstores of reference points to become histories for
alternative selves.
While I am consciously averse to defining maskanda, and it certainly
is not my intention to do so, this study must inevitably contribute to an
understanding of what constitutes maskanda not only in the post-apartheid
moment but also at various points along the way of its development. The
development of maskanda over the past century and its connection to some
momentous shifts in social experience is important as a backdrop for this
study, for it is against historically constructed notions of maskanda that contemporary transformations are measured and understood. Maskandas earliest beginnings are associated with experiences of change, and significant
landmarks in its development correlate with significant shifts in the political and social environment in South Africa. The development of maskanda
can accordingly be divided broadly into three phases: the phase of inception

Maskanda Researched | 11

in the early decades of the twentieth century during the era of British imperialism; the phase of formalization (approximately 196080) during the
apartheid era; and the phase of expansion in the current era heralded by the
1994 democratic election and referred to as the era of liberal democracy.
Discussing the early years of maskandas development is very problematic
as the documentation of this era is scant. I do not know of any informal
recordings of early performance. Indeed much of the information about this
era exists in the stories that people tell about it, and these are limited particularly by the circumstances in which the information has been gathered
and (re)constructed.

Maskanda as Tradition
The story of maskandas beginnings remains incomplete. Two concepts that
feature prominently in these stories are tradition and ethnicity not least of
all because the authenticity of maskanda performance is usually formulated
in relation to its status as traditional Zulu music.
A notion like tradition does not always hold the same meaning when it
is bounced between different cultures, worldviews, and most importantly
languages. Despite the many different cultures in South Africa, it is often
assumed that we are all talking about the same thing when we use the term
tradition. While maskanda music has changed over time, change has not
separated it from its task as tradition: maskanda produced in 2008 is often perceived as just as traditional as maskanda produced many years before this.8 At
times Adornos view of tradition as prescribed practices that resist change and
that capture agency within the boundaries of pregiven and unreflected
forms and ideals does hold sway in the world of maskanda but in rather a convoluted way.9 Certain features of maskanda are marked as traditional because
there is some connection between them and older practices that extend well
into the past, but they are quite clearly not the same as these older practices.
Their connection with older practices is symbolic rather than literal. However, having been marked as tradition these features become prescribed practices that take hold as Adorno describes. But this is not always the case. There
are also other instances where tradition and change work side by side as comfortable companions. What constitutes tradition is not always identified in
the same way, nor does it always have the same meaning or function across
the maskanda domain. The way tradition is perceived and used is often connected to the way change is understood, desired, and expressed. Perhaps this
is because tradition has been given such a powerful role in the way identities
are constructed in South Africa. Indeed the status and function of tradition in
maskanda are not without contradictions and paradoxes.

12|Chapter 1

The idea of tradition has been used to give substance to the ethnic divisions that underpinned apartheid ideology and to host a Darwinian-style
social hierarchy where the traditions of some ethnic groups were seen as evidence of their primitiveness, and the traditions of others as evidence of their
cultured status. At the same timethat is, within the same social climate
tradition also functioned as a positive cornerstone in the making of identities
that counteracted the hostilities of the social world for (among many others)
young Zulu men. What is interesting here is that the tools of empowerment
and those of disempowerment are shaped in the same form, namely, as tradition. Tradition has to be recognized as heavily weighted with ambiguity.
Much of what is believed to be an intrinsic part of traditional practice has in
fact been intentionally invented in order to give credence to politically motivated versions of identity (Coplan 1994, 16; Olsen 2000, 10). Hobsbawm and
Rangers seminal work, The Invention of Tradition (1984) brought to the fore
some of the inconsistencies in the way tradition is perceived and how it operates. The various authors of this collection set out to show how traditions are
closely tied to ideological constructs and how both choice and manipulation
play a part in the creation and continuation of traditional practices.
The obscurity inherent in the concept of tradition arises out of the push
and pull of competing notions of process and change, on the one hand, and
notions of a static, established body of practice, on the other. The idea of tradition carries allusions to a complex process of acquisition, memorization and
social interaction (Boyer 1990, vii). These complex processes are frequently
bypassed when the focus is on reconciling the idea of change with established
practice. Boyer proposes a theory, which does not render the idea of tradition
incompatible with change. He describes tradition as a type of social interaction which results in the repetition of certain communicative events (ibid.,
23). These events are repeated in the sense that they recall similar events or
ways of being that existed in the past. The issue is not the faithful replication
of cultural material, but rather the fact that this material is believed to be
the same as that of the past. But the idea of sameness here does not refer
to the details of what happens in maskanda but refers rather to the cognitive
and emotive effects of the practice. Traditional practice is marked as such not
because of what it is, but because of what it does.

Maskanda and Zuluness

Intersecting economic and political agendas had a significant influence on
the way maskanda was formalized during apartheid. The solidification of
maskanda as a commercial product coincided with a proactive surge in Zulu
ethnic nationalism in the 1980s and early 1990s, and indeed its success in the

Maskanda Researched | 13

marketplace was not least of all because it was promoted as Zulu music. As
noted by Morrell (1996, 107), ethnic identity is a way of marking difference,
which frequently emerges in times of social and economic upheaval. These
were troubled times in South Africa as the apartheid regime stubbornly and
violently resisted an increasingly visible liberation movement that was labeled
then as a terrorist movement and that carried a perceived threat that was
color-coded as swart or rooi.10
Tradition and ethnicity are seen working hand in hand during maskandas
formalization period, most notably in the 1980s. Ethnic identity in the language of Zulu nationalism was strongly dependent on a connection with the
past and, in most instances, defined meticulously as being rooted in a very
particular past. Ethnicity is a social identity that is distinguished by
culturally specific practices and a unique set of symbols and beliefs; a belief in
common origin and common history (the past) that is broadly agreed upon,
and that provides an inheritance of origin, symbols, heroes, events, values, hierarchies, etc. and that confers identity; and a sense of belonging to a group, that
in some combination...confirms social identities of people in their interaction
with both members and outsiders (members of other groups). (Mar 1995, 43)

In the face of the fragmentation and erosion of Zulu social formations and
practices, maskanda music offered a means of expressing cultural specificity
(through the prescriptions of style associated with it in its now genre-ized
form) and asserting common origin (particularly through the inclusion of
izibongo), and a sense of belonging that affirmed the idea that there was a
proper way to be Zulu. Because it engaged practices such as ingoma dance and
izibongo with obvious connections to older performance practices and contexts,
maskanda served as an alternative musical language for tradition to these older
practices that had been part of Zulu life, and as living proof of the relevance
of their ethos in the present. Furthermore, maskanda performance creates a
sense of community at different levels, be it in quite general terms through
language, dress, style, and the form of the music, or more specifically through
its rhythmic association with particular regions and clans, and even more specifically through its highly personalized lyrics that often publicize particular
events or individual experiences that are pertinent in a particular community
or group. Bhodloza Nzimande takes pleasure in this feature of maskanda and
wherever possible takes the opportunity to warn people:11
Dont do something, which is bad in front of a maskandisomething you would
regret. Because if it was done in front of a maskandi guy, he will compose a song
and he will perform it and you might hear it on the air! (Qtd. in Olsen 2000, 121)

14|Chapter 1

A consciously mobilized ethnicity that is used to service political ideals and

purpose is often quite different from an individuals experience of the ethnic
aspect of his or her identity. What people were told about their ethnicity during the height of apartheid was often quite different from what they lived as
a consequence of this identity. The formation of the Inkatha Freedom Party
in 1975 took place in an era in which political affiliation was defined and to
a large extent determined by ethnic identities. Ones birth into a particular
ethnic identity often meant that one similarly inherited the political ideology
of the party prescribed as the political representative of that particular ethnic
identity, as can be seen in Chief Mangosuthu Buthelezis statement:12
All members of the Zulu nation are automatically members of Inkatha if they
are Zulus...no one escapes being a member as long as he or she is a member
of the Zulu nation. (Qtd. in KLAD 1975, 134)13

Just as the National Party was associated with Afrikaner ethnic nationalism,
so the Inkatha Freedom Party was seen as synonymous with Zulu ethnic
nationalism. While the position held by Inkatha did not go uncontested, it
held a dominant position as an authority on Zulu identity. It clearly defined
the boundaries of Zuluness and wove into definitions of Zuluness loyalty
to Inkatha and its leader, Chief Mangosuthu Buthelezi (Morrell 1996, 2).
The version of Zulu identity that was most prominently paraded in the
public arena was one that was suitably constructed to serve the political ideals of Inkatha. Inkatha used a growing sense of solidarity among black South
Africans suffering the paralyzing effects of apartheid to construct an image of
Zulu identity, which would provide a haven for both aspirant entrepreneurs
and displaced migrant laborers. While mobilization of ethnicity can only
be successful to the extent that it resonated with an existing social identity
(Mar 1995, 239), it has been responsible for the popularization of certain
images of Zuluness that have found their way into the general discourses of
everyday life. These discourses are reflected in cultural products, which, particularly when popularized through commercialization, in turn participate
in the construction process. Marked as traditional Zulu music, maskanda
has indeed had an important part to play in the making of perceptions of
Zuluness.
Maskanda is thought of and explained differently by different people.
The information that is produced about maskanda is to a large extent dependent on the criteria valued by the producers of that information. Maskandas
roots lie in the musical responses of young Zulu men to their experience of
labor migrancy during the early decades of the twentieth century. The music
that these young men played did not start out with the name maskanda. Its

Maskanda Researched | 15

naming as maskanda signifies a broadening of its field of production and

reception. It also signifies the emergence of a gap between music as spontaneous, intimate, and personal expression that is not bound by any clear formulations of genre (the moments of origin), and music that is made under
the umbrella of a constituted practice that has very specific prescriptions of
form, style, and musical procedure. This transformation of maskanda from a
creative act that is unnamed to one that is named involved an intricate process. Music does not emerge in a vacuum but is entwined with everyday life;
it is a response (directly or indirectly) to the experience of the human condition. It is a domain of deferred representations and elusive meanings that are
heavily dependent on the relationship between the music itself and the one
who makes meaning from it, be it a performer or a listener. The meaning of
maskanda thus changes automatically with each change in the field within
which it is situated for the spectator or the reader (Bourdieu 1993, 31).
It was during the apartheid years that maskanda began to be understood,
experienced, and disseminated as a genre, and hence during these years the
prescriptions of practice associated with a genre took shape. I see this era
as having a powerful presence in relation to contemporary maskanda performance, since it is the practices constituted and accepted as characteristic
of maskanda performance during this era that provide the measure against
which contemporary maskanda is seen as changing or not. Before it can be
established if and how contemporary maskanda performance practice deviates from the template of maskanda performance made during the apartheid
years, the nature of this template and how it evolved must be understood. It is
to this end that the principles or ideals that motivated maskandas path from
an informal performance practice to one that was formalized as it engaged
with the institutionalizing forces of mass dissemination and commercial production, are explored.

Life Stories
While life stories may seem to be an obvious source of information on the
experiential domain of maskanda musicians and the way they think about
their lives, it is important to recognize how they are made and what can be
expected from them as an analytical resource. As a situationally conditioned
construct, a cognitive chaining of selected elements from the past, present
and future, simultaneously (Knudsen 1990, 122), a life history must be seen
not simply as a recollection of the facts about someones life but also as an
emotional response to the past in the context of the present and even the
future. As such it must be seen not as a story of life but rather a conscious
or even unconscious strategy for self-presentation, a legitimization of moves

16|Chapter 1

and counter-moves and of projection for the future (ibid.). Remembering the
past and the making of identities through reference to the past are selective
processes that vary across time (Thomson 1998). The present brings its own
pressures and conditions to bear on how the past is remembered; the past is
often remade to serve present circumstances. My concern is with the choices
that maskanda musicians make as they engage memories of the past as part
of their musical discourse in the present. These choices are read in relation
to discourses of dominant institutions like government, the music industry,
the public media, and education. I understand each life history (somewhat
paradoxically) as a part that makes up the whole, rather than as representative of the whole (Clifford 1986), and as speaking of social structures and
the inclusions and exclusions that give them definition. Life stories reveal the
conditions under which certain positions and position-takings are seen as
the preserve of particular groups, these being identified in maskanda most
often in terms of ethnicity, gender, and age.

Maskanda Played by Women, or Womens Maskanda?

In its earliest years maskanda took shape and grew as a male performance
domain. Maskandas development into a constituted body of practice took
place in an era during which gender relations were fragmented and strained.
The relationship between Zulu men and women, and their respective roles,
had been radically altered largely as a result of labor migrancy. Once labor
migrancy became an established way of life, womens roles and responsibilities were redefined as they single-handedly managed the domestic world by
raising children and caring for members of their extended family who were
without work. Men were often disconnected from family life because of long
periods of absence, and their social and personal sense of worth was often
undermined because women managed without them. The disempowerment
of men did not, however, translate into the empowerment of women; both
were trapped in the dysfunctional condition of disconnection exacerbated by
the acceptance of an overwhelmingly patriarchal framing of gender relations.
While it was not unusual for women to feature in mens maskanda performance as backing singers, their position as leaders of groups and composers
of songs is a relatively recent development. There is an interesting dynamic
in this development, different aspects of which are identified, explored, and
developed under an overarching paradigm that sees dominant patriarchal
orders as impacting in quite radical ways on the course of womens lives and,
more importantly, on how they think about themselves in relation to the world
around them. The claim on maskanda as an expressive domain owned by men
(it was, after all, grown of the responses of men to labor migrancy) has produced

Maskanda Researched | 17

various responses to the role of women as maskanda musicians. Their participation may be read as an indication of a shift in perceptions of how women are
seen and as evidence of an increase in opportunity for women where it was not
available before. But one may also ask why women choose to express themselves
in a musical domain so obviously dominated by men. Is it that of all the musical
genres available today maskanda has special appeal because of its discourse on
belonging? Womens maskanda is automatically set up in a comparative relationship with its male counterpart. This may well be because when we try to
understand masculine domination we are (therefore) likely to resort to modes of
thought that are the product of domination (Bourdieu 2001, 4).

Back to Transformation
The idea of transformation has an overwhelming presence in discourses on the
new South Africa, and not surprisingly so, since it was as an agent of transformation that the African National Conference (ANC) came to power in the 1994
elections. Like the term tradition, the term transformation is called upon to
give authority to a confusing variety of policies and actions. It has an assumed
status within the public domain borne out of its association with the liberation
struggle. It is generally viewed as something morally profounda good thing.
As a consequence, much is justified in the name of transformation.
For an idea that is so widely invoked, however, it appears to be surprisingly
immune to serious interrogation. Peter Schraeders analysis of the politics of
development in Africa shows that there is a significant link between different
expectations of transformation and political ideology (Schraeder 2004, 135
36). Dividing the political terrain of Africa into three dominant ideologies, his
observations can be summarized as follows: for the African capitalist, development can only take place within the constraints of a system that favors economic growth over economic equality; there is an emphasis on urban-based
industrialization rather than rural-based agriculture. African capitalism seeks
transformation within the framework of a free-market economy that promotes
private business enterprises that can compete with global markets. For the
African socialist, development means a return to a communitarian ethos that
dominated indigenous economies before colonialism. The African socialist is
suspicious of private ownership and favors a decentralized governmental style
that allows for the local management of group interests but with all major
commercial enterprises being controlled by the state. The African Marxist
seeks a radical shift away from past and present systems, looking primarily
to eradicate any form of class difference. While, like the socialists, Marxists
see the public sector as the primary agent of development, they favor absolute
control of the economy by central government.

18|Chapter 1

Schraeder thus links expectations of transformation directly to political ideals and different systems of governance. Confusion arises in the South African
context out of the ANC governments association with liberation ideology. For
while liberation ideology in South Africa was overtly linked with Marxist and
socialist ideals, the ANC, even in its role as a negotiator in the transition from
apartheid to the new democracy, threw in its lot with a capitalist ethos (Saul
2002). The political domain is currently thick with ambiguity. While shifts in
the racial profile of those who have access to wealth and opportunity may well
be registered as a positive change, the fundamental ethos of capitalism prevails
and class-based disparities remain the order of the day. Nevertheless, the association of the ANC with liberation ideals is kept alive in the public imagination
through the status that the ANC has as a primary agent in the destruction of an
iniquitous system that exploited inequality to serve the ruling class.
Both the view that transformation is contingent upon the institutionalized
ideals of the ANC and that transformation rests on a postcolonial response
to the present are commonly paraded in the mass media; this study looks for
any translation of these views into the cultural domain. In fact, it is within
the context of the inconsistency between what is experienced in material
terms as change, and the emotional investment that people have in the idea
of a new and transformed society, that many complex and at times contradictory responses to life in post-apartheid South Africa emerge. I think that it is
important to resist being charmed by the miracle of a post-apartheid South
Africa and hence to underestimate the complexity of the social formations
we have inherited. A society made and controlled through race and ethnic
definition resulted in the development of ontological commitments to racialized and ethnic identities (Zegeye 2001, 344). Zegeye sees the ANC government of 2001 as being intent on de-emphasizing the apartheid-constructed
divisions through its policy of non-racialism and the construction of national
identity (ibid.). But does policy translate into practice? The walls of division
carry an allure for those, with sinister or noble intention, who seek significant
changes in South Africa. They offer familiar recourse not only for those who
seek an easy path to power but also in reparation strategies that hope to compensate for the disadvantages that people have in the present because of the
past. It is often difficult to imagine identities and relationships beyond those
that were so fanatically pursued in the past. After all we are not simply at liberty to produce and reproduce ourselves or shape and re-shape our world
(ibid.)we do not have that level of agency. Our world(s) and our identities are
made and shaped dialogically in the context of what is already there. Nevertheless, some South African academics contest the inevitability of apartheids
appropriation of difference for division as a way of thinking about contemporary South Africa. Sarah Nuttall (2009, 19), for example, argues that while

Maskanda Researched | 19

apartheid engineering did and still does work to fix spaces that are difficult
to break down in the present there are other configurations in South African society that warrant different kinds of analytical approaches. These other
configurations offering alternative perceptions of what we are and what we
might become beyond the obsession with difference as division are evidence
of a transformative process in action. My quest in this research has been to
look for evidence of the emergence of other configurations in maskanda by
analyzing transformations in contemporary maskanda in the context of what
maskanda was during apartheid. Can people now frame the South African
world independently of apartheid constructions?
One would have to be a delusional idealist to imagine that transformation is
driven entirely from within the country. South Africas engagement with global
economies, together with a shift in the theoretical underpinnings of Marxism
itself from Leninist dialectical materialism to a materialist dialectic, have
made it all but impossible to translate the socialist ideals of the revolution into a
new social order (iek 2006, 45). The ideals and indeed the promises of the
liberation movement in South Africa have been tempered by this inversion of
Marxist ideals within the global economic environment generally, and by the
desire, or perceived need, to be part of a global economic network. Many of the
successful maskanda musicians have had some opportunity to take their music
to global audiences. For the most part these concerts take place in the United
Kingdom, Western Europe, and the United States of America. Very few maskanda musicians travel to other African countries or to the East. For many of
the musicians who have performed overseas, these concerts are not a representation of their individual experiences so much as a representation of Zuluness,
and indeed it is the Zuluness of maskanda music that is seen as a prominent
draw for international audiences. Thus the pressure to mark Zuluness in maskanda is still evident, but now it comes from the desires of the global market
rather than from ethnic nationalist ideals. How musicians make this Zuluness
for these global audiences is often the consequence of what they believe these
audiences want. Hence the exotic, tribal imagery already made during apartheid is often emphasized over representations of an everyday life experience
that may indeed be much closer to that of people in other countries.
How musicians respond to the notion of Zuluness, how they construct
and perform it globally also offers insight into how Zulu identity is thought of
and used at home. Among the questions that I consider throughout this book
are: Do maskanda musicians now think of Zuluness in ways that are different
from those that dominated during apartheid; and is there evidence of a disparity between their thoughts on Zuluness and their physical experiences of it?

|2
Maskandas Early Years

Representing Maskandas Beginnings

The early pioneers of South African music studies were overwhelmed by
notions of ethnic purity and thus paid little attention to syncretic styles that
developed in and around cities. Their main concern was the preservation of
what was perceived as authentic indigenous music. Apart from music that
developed under the influence of Christian missionaries, the creative expression of an urbanizing indigenous population was most often disregarded, or
viewed with suspicion. The historiography of early maskanda is thus based on
evidence drawn from a limited repository of information and has been shaped
by two main factors: the stories that have been told about the lives and music
of some of the exponents of the genre, and the musical connections that can
be made with other musical practices that were recorded and written about
together with the earliest available maskanda recordings.
Although the guitar may have been introduced into Africa by the Portuguese in the course of their exploration and trading along the West African
coast beginning in the early 1400s, confirming evidence (of the guitars presence in Africa) is unavailable until the end of the 1800s (Kaye qtd. in Stone
1998, 351). It is not clear when the guitar was incorporated into Zulu musical practice, or whether it was ever used in a traditional rural context as a
replacement for older instruments although Mayrs observation in 1908 that
western instruments were replacing original primitive instruments suggests
that this may indeed have been the case.1

Maskandas Early Years|21

Knowledge of maskandas early beginning exists in fragments that have

been held fast by constant repetition and recirculation. Even when these fragments are amalgamated into a history of maskanda, they can never offer a full
story of how maskanda evolved into an established genre. All we can expect
of them is to give us insight into some of the features of maskandas roots. My
concern here, however, is not to rewrite the history of maskanda but rather to
provide a context against which contemporary maskanda can be understood.

Who Were the Early Maskanda Musicians?

The earliest recordings of maskanda do not mark its beginning. The evidence
that we do have, in what has been told about its beginnings, suggests that it
was part of an expressive repertoire of young migrant men well before this
time. It characteristically gave expression to the experiences of young men
marked as inbetweeners. They were inbetweeners because they lived in
transit between the urban centers of industrial and commercial development
dominated by western ideologies and power structures and the rural hinterland where life was shaped and ordered in accordance with Zulu ideologies
and social systems of power. It began thus as the music of men who moved
between two ways of living that were motivated and controlled by ideals that
operated in ways that were understood and experienced as fundamentally different. This was a time when difference was obsessively pursued by the imperialist governors of the country in the quest for power and a secure system of
dominance. They were also inbetweeners because these earliest proponents
of maskanda were young men who were positioned within the Zulu social
domain between the Amabhinca (traditionalists) and the Amakholwa (mission-educated Christians) (Clegg 1981).
Maskanda was embedded in the all-male environment of labor migrants
wrenched from their wives and lovers; however, it appears it also had a significant place in positioning men in relation to women. While their music gave
them a reputation as good lovers, male musicians were also seen as unreliable husbands, as evidenced in the Zulu saying isiginci asakumuzi (a guitar
does not build a homestead). Carol Muller represents Zulu guitar songs as
traditionally songs of love and courtship (1995, 118). By giving the guitar
traditional status Muller also alludes to the inclusion of the guitar in everyday
performance practice in rural life. While in most discussions of maskanda
the guitar is seen as a western instrument, perhaps it was indeed engaged as a
traditional instrument some time before maskanda was formally established
as a genre. This suggestion may be the consequence of the compression of
time made possible by the many gaps in the history of maskanda, or indeed it
may point to an area of maskandas history previously overlooked.

22|Chapter 2

Clegg marks maskanda as a male tradition that was developed from the
female music played on the umakhweyana bow and the imfilitshi (mouth
organ) (Clegg 1981, 2). He asserts that the guitar was taken on as a traditional
instrument in the 1880s (ibid., 3). While men played the umakhweyana and
imfilitshi casually in their interactions with women, these instruments were
generally regarded as effeminate in a warrior culture (ibid., 1). Nevertheless,
according to Clegg, young men played courting songs on these instruments,
and the translation of this practice into performances on guitar must have
to some extent shaped the earliest versions of maskanda.
While guitar songs may have been songs intent on wooing women, Thami
Vilikazis songs are about fractured relationships,2 rather than courtship. His
songs capture a tension in male and female relationships as a consequence of
the loss of currency of traditionally prescribed gender roles in everyday life.
He sings about women who love men but who also break community taboos,
who carry venereal disease, who drink excessively and who smoke (1995,
118). Women are targeted as traitors to their heritage and as perpetrators of
moral degeneration. Mens behavior, however, escapes critique in his music.
Vilikazis songs are based on his own experience or the experiences of
those around him. It is through song that Thami negotiates and articulates
his own vision of the moral and physical topography of urban space and experience in tension with his topographies of rural Zululand (ibid., 119).
Mullers discussion of Thami Vilikazis music offers valuable insight into
the social environment to which it was a response. The rural/urban dialectic
stands out as central to the meaning-making process in his music. It is through
this dialectic that musicians addressed the disjuncture that accompanied
labor migrancy and infiltrated every aspect of migrants lives: not only were
they homeless in the city, but also the fabric of rural society was fast eroding. In response, many maskanda musicians produced a discourse on gender
relations that was strongly inflected with patriarchal prejudice. For migrant
workers the urban space was empty of signifiers of belonging. In performance
musicians could forge a connection with people, places, experience, and ways
of being that were not present in their lived experiences in the cities. Maskanda musicians used the imaginative reconstruction of ways of being in the
past as a modality of survival that would give them credibility in the present.
The focus of Mullers article is on the social rather than the musical. The
song texts draw the reader into Vilikazis world, and as they are discussed various aspects of Vilizakis performance style are elucidated: it appears both in
form and in style to follow the standards of practice that were firmly associated with maskanda by the late 1980s, if not before (1995, 122).

Maskandas Early Years|23

The Musical Roots of Early Maskanda

The social position of early maskanda musicians as inbetweeners appears to
have played an important role in their choice of style and form. Their feelings
of dislocation produced a longing for the safety and stability of a home-space
where they could find a sense of belonging. They sought refuge from the
alienating environment of the present in a remembered past.
Johnny Clegg paints this picture of the seminal moments of maskanda:
When these migrants left home they were locked in compounds....They
started to play on these instrumentsthe guitar which they bought from the
mine shopsongs to remind them of home, songs which their sweethearts sung
and slowly these songs were usurped and a male music tradition developed
which was not there before. (1981, 5)

The songs that Clegg refers to here were often intimate expressions of loss and
longing; they were songs that were not part of a public performance repertoire but
that served as self-reflective expressions of personal experience. The bow songs of
Princess Constance Magogo can be referred to as an example of the songs that
early maskanda musicians remembered. They have a number of musical features,
which can be connected to maskanda performance practice, most notably, the
tonality, short descending melodic phrases, and the inclusion of izibongo (Zulu
praise poetry). The tonality of bow songs may be found in maskanda songs that
are based on a hexatonic scale created from two juxtaposed triads either a tone
or a semitone apart: This results in a system of dual tonality based upon the two
roots which are the fundamentals (Davies 1992, 53). The inclusion of izibongo
was an important feature of maskanda that distinguished it from other styles and
gave maskanda status as a continuation of traditional Zulu practice.
Nollene Daviess MMus thesis, A Study of Guitar Styles in Zulu Maskanda Music (1992), is essentially a technical study of maskandas musical
procedures that brings to light some of the connections between maskanda
and earlier traditional musical practices. This study focuses on the relationship between maskanda as the author finds it in the music and performance
practices of her informants and what she refers to as preindustrial Zulu
music. This relationship offers significant clues as to what prerecorded maskanda may have been like. Daviess primary sources are a group of practicing
musicians, the well-known broadcaster, Bhodloza Welcome Nzimande, and
recordings and observations of maskanda competitions held at the University
of Natal in the early 1990s. Davies identifies some of the musical procedures
that are associated with older performance practices, such as Zulu bow music
and communal dance songs that resurface in maskanda.

24|Chapter 2

Maskanda began as a solo performance practice. Its transformation into

a band format was concomitant with its emergence as commercial music
with specific characteristics, which Davies identifies as typical of maskanda
around the 1980s and 1990s.
The music of this era has a standardized form, beginning with a short
introductory section (intela; izihlabo), which is improvisatory and which introduces both the melodic and the tonal basis of the song that follows. This
introductory section may also be used to show off the guitarists virtuosity and
to check the tuning of the instrument. There is often a break between this
section and the next, which begins with a short instrumental introduction
followed by a multi-part structure in which at least two voice parts are represented (Davies 1992, 59). About two-thirds of the way through the song the
musician presents his izibongo. The izibongo section is followed by a few more
repeats of the main melodic interactions, and the song often ends abruptly.
Izibongo is an important distinguishing feature of maskanda. While praise
poetry is usually delivered in praise of someone other than the performer, in
maskanda the praises are self-praises.
Ingoma dance songs were an important inspirational resource for maskanda musicians.3 The different styles of maskanda of the apartheid era are
distinguishable from one another and named according to their rhythmic
connection with different dance styles associated with different regions (ibid.,
44). While the dance styles that maskanda is associated with are themselves
transformations and amalgamations of a range of different practices, some
more distant than others, the rhythm of these dance styles served as an important marker of geographical location. Through rhythmic association with
place, maskanda musicians and their audiences could recognize home-space
connections. In solo versions of maskanda the rhythm is implied in the guitar;
however, in the group versions it becomes more explicit as bass and drums are
included. The band version of maskanda often also included ingoma dance
routines performed by a troupe of dancers in live performance. This further
accentuation of the rhythm contributed to the popularity of maskanda as the
aesthetic appeal of a song was enhanced by the presence and strength of the
dance rhythm.
The ukupika (plucked rather than strummed) style of guitar playing is a
typical feature of maskanda from this time and is seen as bringing the music
closer to traditional styles that tended to be multivocal where songs are
not conceived as consisting of separate complete parts but rather of mutually
interacting voices which are inseparable [Rycroft 1982, 324] (Davies 1992,
59). The ukupika style of guitar playing is often attributed to Phuzushukela,
who is commonly regarded as the father of maskanda. At the Ethnomusicology Symposium held in Grahamstown in the early 1980s, Johnny Clegg

Maskandas Early Years|25

noted that Phuzushukelas claim to the establishment of the picking style of

guitar playing that came to be an important feature of maskanda has been
accepted largely because of his influence as a recorded musician rather than
because he was the only proponent of the style. There are older practitioners,
I mean people who are physically older than him, who play it, who claim that
they were playing it before he came on the scene (ibid., 3).
Nollene Daviess approach to maskanda and its relationship to older musical practices, which she refers to as indigenous musical principles or Zulu
musical principles (1992), is founded on the assumption that there is such a
thing as an authentic Zulu identity and that it is affirmed through connections that can be made to a precolonial past. By implication Zulu identity is
thus captured and frozen in an historical moment; it is identified as a thing
that can be contained in definition rather than a process that responds to the
changing experiences of everyday life. Daviess approach takes its cue from
the discourses on Zulu identity embedded in a large body of maskanda, most
notably that from the apartheid era; maskanda from this period also has a
close affinity with a retrospective view of Zulu identity and engages the past
to mark authenticity in the present.

Maskanda and Tradition

The concept of tradition is central to the way meaning is articulated musically
in maskanda and to the way discourses on maskanda are constructed. My earlier work (Olsen 2000) investigates the way the past, formulated as tradition,
is used to construct and give meaning to the music and the identity of three
musicians who are each positioned at different points on the sound spectrum
of maskanda. Various constructs of Zuluness are interrogated, most particularly those that fall under the rubric of the ethnic nationalist movement and
those that are engaged to market music in the international arena. This study
reveals a marked disparity between public constructions of Zuluness and
the lived experiences and aspirations of people who speak Zulu. Maskandas
recourse to older musical practices associated with the life and cosmologies
of Zulu people before colonization is seen as part of a more general revival of
older musical practices in response to the increasing alienation of black South
Africans from social and economic development. The difference between
maskanda and township-based music is that maskanda has always been selfconsciously linked to traditional musical practices. Maskanda developed in
this way because of the social and political climate at the time when it started
to take hold as a performance practice.
The commercialization of maskanda in the late 1950s and through the
1960s had a strong influence on the development of maskanda as a constituted

26|Chapter 2

body of practice with clear prescriptions of style. However, these prescriptions

of style were not only driven by the market but also by the ideological constraints imposed by the apartheid system. Maskanda musicians engaged with
the market in the identities afforded them by apartheid. The division of maskanda into a solo version and band version mirrors the rural/urban dichotomy
that informed discourses on Zulu identity. The solo version is a more flexible
and intimate style than the band version, which was more widely disseminated and which was thus more likely to be appropriated to serve the agendas
of a recording industry complicit with the apartheid system. In the band version of maskanda, Zulu identity was often shaped in the stereotypical picture
of strong male warriors rooted in distant and rural spaces. This image and role
of maskanda is an important aspect of its discourse on identity.
Other writings on maskanda appear in the context of discussions on other
aspects of South African music. In Nightsong: Performance, Power and Practice
in South Africa (1996), Veit Erlmann includes some comments on maskanda
in the context of a broader discussion of isicathamiya, focusing particularly on
the commercial success of the music.
Rooted in various styles of traditional bow music, guitar music by the 1950s was at
its peak. Largely promoted by the Troubadour label, maskanda and related musics
by the mid-1950s to early 1960s came to dominate the record market, Troubadour
at times selling two million records a year and for a time controlling as much as
eighty five percent of the entire market [Allingham 1989]. (Erlmann 1996, 83)

By limiting maskandas musical heritage to traditional bow music, Erlmann

bypasses other important aspects of maskandas heritage, such as its connection with ingoma dance. Erlmanns focus on this particular aspect of maskandas heritage connects it to a distant past; however, in that account maskanda
is soon dissolved into mbaqanga:
A musician by the name of John Bengu was one of Troubadours most successful artists. In 1971Bengu had by now acquired the epithet Phuzushukela
(drink sugar)this Nkandla-born guitarist became the first maskanda to switch
to the electric guitar that had by then become universally accepted as the main
instrument of popular band music in South Africa.
The music that resulted from this and other innovations became to be known
as mbaqanga: like the maize porridge it is named after, it became the subsistence
food for scores of township and studio musicians. (Erlmann 1996, 83)

Erlmanns Nightsong is not about maskanda; it does however offer valuable

insights into the social conditions to which maskanda was a response. He

Maskandas Early Years|27

traces one hundred years (18911991) of evolutionary process in isicathamiya.

As was the case with isicathamiya musicians, labor migrancy, social disjuncture, and regulated discrimination were imposed on maskanda musicians.
The two musical practices developed concurrently. Erlmanns detailed social
history of isicathamiya is thus very relevant to maskanda.
David Coplans In Township Tonight! Three Centuries of South African
Black City Music and Theatre (2007, 2d ed.) offers a general account of developments in maskanda from the 1980s to the present day. Besides identifying some of the most important proponents of the genre, Coplan also raises
the issue of how tradition is conceptualized. Tradition, he says, is seen in
South Africa as something that has obvious connections with the past that are
expressed through continuities of genre, verbal idioms of experience, polyvocalities of tone, tune and texture, of hue and cry (312). On this basis he agrees
with Joseph Nhlapo that maskanda need not be termed neo-traditional (as
Coplan had done in the 1985 edition of his book) but simply traditional
(312). He identifies maskanda as a cultural response to experiences of life on
the road; it is experienced, formulated, and exists in transit. Coplans account
represents maskanda as a performance practice rooted in rural traditions but
also popularised and progressively transformed (2007, 313) in a range of different settings. The progressiveness of its transformation is tempered by maskanda musicians resistance to innovation.
Maskanda musicians, in partial contrast to Zulu mbaqanga performers...have
not so much innovated in search of a wider commercial audience as in effect
insisted that their audience, now expanding but still largely confined to South
Africa, come to them and to what they insouciantly remain: parochial Zulu and
proud of it. (Ibid., 313)

Coplan reflects on a range of different aspects of maskanda performance

showing the diversity of contemporary engagements with the genre and the
contradictions that inevitably accompany such diversity. Different musicians
are pushing the boundaries of the genre in a bid to relocate maskanda in the
present of their own experience and in the face of this diversity, maskandas
position as a parochial Zulu performance practice is to some extent beginning to fade.
Coplan does not present a continuous flowing picture of maskanda as
a body of practice with clearly defined parameters; instead, it emerges as a
conglomerate of practices and approaches that engage with the past in different ways. While on the one hand, there are those who see it as Zulu music
that speaks for and to Zulu people, there are others who pay little attention
to Zuluness and locate it within the immediacy of contemporary experience

28|Chapter 2

beyond the constraints of Zulu ethnic nationalism. In this account maskanda

emerges as a dynamic and volatile practice that embraces a range of different
perspectives and experiences.
Discourses on transformation in post-apartheid maskanda cannot be identified or understood without an insight into how maskanda was transfigured
and what experiences were captured in its past. The past signifies all that
went before, and is thus relative to the moment that before must inevitably qualify. In this study the line demarcating past and present is drawn at
1994, the year of South Africas first democratic elections. Central to this section is a discussion and analysis of select examples of maskanda from the late
1950s to early 1990s. My focus is on the repertoire of the most prominent icon
of the period, John Bengu, most commonly known by his stage name Phuzushukela,4 and the early repertoire of his successor, Johnson Mnyandu, most
commonly known as Phuzekhemisi.5 I have selected these two prominent figures to highlight the musical characteristics and representations of experience
of music from this period because the focus of my study is on commercially
recorded maskanda, and these two musicians occupy a prominent place in
this area of maskanda. This is not to say that there are not other versions of
maskanda or other experiences that may have featured in the genre during
this period.

John Bengu (Phuzushukela)

John Bhengu has iconic status within maskanda circles. He is widely
acclaimed as the first maskanda musician to have had a successful career as
a commercially recorded artist. Predictably, there are many gaps in the story
of his musical career and very little is known about his life or his personal
responses to his experience as a musician. The fullest account of his path as
a recorded musician is to be found in the liner notes written by Rob Allingham for the compilation CD, Singing in an Open Space (1990). While some
of the information given here is speculative, Allingham provides an outline
of Phuzushukelas musical career that identifies landmark developments in
maskanda as a genre. This is the story he tells.
John Bhengu was born in Nkandla, a rural town in the northern
KwaZulu-Natal, on March 24, 1930. In his early teens he moved to Durban
where he achieved some recognition in street competitions. In these competitions a musicians competence was judged on how he could integrate the
guitar with a traditional song (Allingham 1990), the originality and virtuosity
displayed in the opening section of the song, and his performance of izibongo
praise poetry. These features became important distinguishing characteristics
of maskanda and characterize not only Bhengus music but also many others

Maskandas Early Years|29

who followed in his wake. Another technique, which has been attributed to
Bhengu, is the finger-picking style of guitar playing. While he claimed this as
his own invention, it may have come from his exposure to a group of musicians
from the southern Umkomaas region of KwaZulu-Natal (whom he heard in
the beer halls of Durban) and from his exposure to recordings of guitar music
from outside South Africa. Although it is claimed that he recorded in the
late 1940s, Bhengus earliest traceable sides were cut for the Troubadour label
in about 1955, the first of a long series for the company (ibid.). These were
issued erroneously under the name John Pengu. At this time Troubadour was
the most prolific and successful company recording local music. Like all the
companys musicians, he was paid a flat fee per side recorded. No Troubadour
artists ever received any performance or copyright royalties (ibid.). Bhengu
supplemented his income by working in the companys pressing plant. Allingham reports that he is said to have commented that he not only records music
but cooks it as well!
The next period of Bhengus recording career began with a few sides cut
for Trutones Tee Vee label. These were the last recordings issued under his
name. These were followed by a few sides recorded for Lita, a short-lived
label that abruptly folded when its American owner absconded with the
companys bank account (ibid.). This point marks a monumental shift in
Bhengus recording career, for not only did he start to record under the name
Phuzushukela, but he also changed the format of his music to a band lineup.
The next landmark in his career began in 1971 when he signed up with
Gallo and began a long association with Hamilton Nzimande (ibid.), a successful producer of mbaqanga music, a more distinctly urban style of music
than that which Bhengu was playing. Nzimandes greatest successes were
with mbaqanga groups like Izintombi Zesi Manje Manje (and later with the
Soul Brothers) (ibid.). Nzimande had a considerable influence on the production of Bhengus music for the commercial market. With more modern
production techniques, an electrified backing band, backing vocals, and his
own switch from an acoustic to an electric guitar, his music was set for greater
commercial appeal. Indeed his success is evident in his recording output and
his performance roster across central and southern Africa.
Allingham states that for John Bhengu success meant returning to his
home in Nkandla where according to custom he was entitled to a plot of land.
His performance schedule was organized around his farming activities, and
he measured his wealth in terms of the size of his herd of cattle. For him
success was being able to live reasonably comfortably within a social environment that operated in accordance with his heritage; home was still his rural
homestead in Nkandla. John Bhengu died in a Gallo rehearsal room on February 22, 1985.

30|Chapter 2

Phuzushukelas music and style have a strong presence and significant

status within the realm of maskanda music. Musicians have emulated him
and often speak of him as the founder and father of the genre. Very often it
is through some form of association with Phuzushukela that musicians today
define their own music as maskanda.
Besides his recordings of singles, many of which are difficult to locate,
Phuzushukela recorded the following albums:
1974
1974
1977
1979
1981
1982
1984
1985

Langa Libalele CBS LAB 4043

Phuzushukela CBS LAB 4057
Asambeni Siye Kwelakithi Imbongi LZG 14
Inkatha Imbongi LZG 26
UmhlabaImbongi LZG 39
Sehlule Umkhomaz HVN NZL 88
Iqoma Kandabula HVN NZL 142
Uthando Selungehlule HVN NZL 165

My concern in relation to Phuzushukela music is primarily with the process

through which his music developed into a commercial genre, a process that
involves the transition of his music from a solo performance practice to a group
performance practice and that embodies or at least coincides with the formulation of maskanda as a genre. This transition produced a significant shift in maskandas aesthetic ideals and in the way it was put to work in society generally.
My primary source here is two sets of recordings of Phuzushukelas music.
The first set is made up of a group of twenty-eight songs issued on the Troubadour label and dating from around 1956 to 1968. The second is a collection of
twenty songs issued by Gallo on two albums, Sehlule Umkhomazi (1982) and
Uthando Selungehlule (1985).6

Phuzushukelas Early Recordings, 19561968

The songs that form the basis of this discussion are listed below. They are
organized according to their catalog numbers and thus appear in chronological order and are numbered accordingly in order to facilitate their referencing
in the discussion that follows.
1. Katazile: Person who causes trouble
2. Nomoya: With the wind
3. Zakwetho (should be Zakwethu): Colleague or a teammate
4. Wabooma (should be Waphuma): He/she got out
5. Usebensile: You have worked (could also be a name)

Maskandas Early Years|31

6. Ungqondo (should be Ukondla): To care for

7. Uzizeni: Zizeni (a persons name)
8. Amamfelenjana (should be amamfelenjane): Mess
9. Thando luphelile: Love is finished
10. Emakhabeleni: From the place Makhabeleni
11. Diki Diki: Has no meaning; sound that represents happiness
12. Lalisa ingani (should be ingane): Put the baby to sleep
13. Nomnyaka: Mnyaka (Phuzeshukelas fathers name)
14. Dlala Baba: Do something father
15. Khala nga khona: Cry in that way
16. Simanga singani (should be singane): Amazing child/baby
17. Ngangingalele ekhaya: I was sleeping at home
18. Ma Nene: Mrs Nene, or an address to the community
19. Esivaneni (should be esinawani): At Sinawani
20. Ntogwana (should be Nogwaja): Rabbit
21. Themba lami: My hope
22. Isidwaba: Traditional marriage skirt
23. Umakotshana: The girl who accompanies a newly married woman
24. Mkhwenyana: Husband
25. Ongizalayo (should be Owayizalayo): The person who gave birth
26. Kukhalo bengeko (should be bengekho): The one who is crying
is not here
27. Amazondo: Jealousy
28. Ngeke ngi mqome: Rejecting courtship
These songs are the earliest versions of Phuzushukelas music that I have
been able to trace. This is a collection of Phuzushukelas solo recordings
that were issued on 78" discs with two songs per disc. While songs that were
recorded in the same year and perhaps even in the same session are similar,
there are often subtle but important variations in each song. These variations
take place not so much in the substance of the musical material but in how
the songs are put together. In this body of music a number of procedures
recur, but their treatment is not always the same from one song to the next.
In most instances the songs that are paired together have a set of common
features; it is against this commonality that Phuzushukela plays with different textures and sound combinations. This suggests some measure of experimentation and freedom to try out different musical textures and relationships
in the composition and performance of these songs. The difference between
songs that are paired together is most often the consequence of a subtle shift
in focus so that while the contrast between the two songs is evident, it is
not radical. This experimentation does not offend or challenge the broader

32|Chapter 2

aesthetic ideals of earlier musical practices associated with traditional Zulu

music. While there is a strong sense of continuity with the past, there is also
a sense of movement. Older principles are used to shape new ideas and new
principles are used to recontextualize old ideas. It is to this process that I look
for some suggestions or indications of maskandas formative period and how it
evolved into an identifiable practice.
The range of musical procedures that Phuzushukela explores in these
songs is not very wide. Nevertheless, as these procedures are combined in different permutations the variations that are possible increase exponentially. As
a body of music this collection of songs is thus not uniform and there is very
little evidence of any prescription of style or procedure.
In its early phase Phuzushukelas musical style is quite simple with few
musical events occurring simultaneously. The music is built around two main
melodic ideas. The melodies are short with a limited range of pitches and include
many repeats of the same notes; they are usually made up of notes of even duration. The form emerges as a consequence of the way these two melodic ideas
are presented. As his style develops he starts to include more varied rhythms
and a wider range of pitches. The relationship between the two parts becomes
more complicated as their entries are staggered, producing moments of overlap
and creating an unsounded implicit rhythm that results from the combination
of two different rhythmic patterns. The tonality of most of the songs is based on
the tonal structure of bow music; most of the songs are based on a hexatonic
scale built from two triads with roots a semitone apart.
Phuzushukelas early songs are marked by the variety evident in his compositional approach. While this is most obvious in the guitar accompaniment
to the songs, it is also evident in his flexible approach to style and form. One
gets the feeling that in this body of songs Phuzushukela is playing with different compositional approaches to his music. This feature of Phuzushukelas
early repertoire is increasingly less evident in maskanda as it developed into
an established genre.

Songs with Strummed Guitar Accompaniment

There are four songs in this collection with strummed accompaniment:
Katazile (number 1), Nomoya (number 2), Emakhabeleni (number 10),
and Dlala Baba (number 14). Dlala Baba is the last track in this entire
collection with strummed guitar accompanimentafter number 14 all of the
songs have plucked guitar accompaniment.
Much has been made of the shift from a strummed to plucked guitar technique in maskanda and more particularly the idea that it was through a picking style that the music was more consciously and concretely indigenized.

Maskandas Early Years|33

According to this way of thinking the strumming style is seen as representing

western practice while the picking is seen as representing indigenous practice. The strumming style here may indeed be likened to that found in much
western music. However, the idea that these two guitar techniques represent
these polarized positions overlooks a more subtle discourse embedded in the
relationship between these two styles and the way each of them connects to
other types of music.
By the 1950s the strumming style of guitar playing had been heard in a
considerable amount of music that was recorded as Zulu music. In the 1930s
the guitar had been made more readily available to a general working-class
population and more affordable because it was manufactured locally and
used in a wide range of performance styles.7 As a consequence, even though
the guitar originated from Europe, at the time of these recordings of Phuzushukelas music there is little to suggest that the instrument was thought of as
a western instrument. The instrument became Zulu when it was used to
play music thought of and experienced as Zulu music. Hence, I am not convinced that for musicians like Phuzushukela strumming and picking would
have registered as a technical realization of the general dichotomy between
western and indigenous practice that commonly pervaded political and social
thought. If there is any dichotomy to be constructed here, it is between community practice and individual practice. The picking style has most often
been represented as the realization of the ideals and characteristics associated with individual performance practice, particularly that performed on the
umakhweyana bow. This is primarily on the basis that single notes with little
resonance are articulated in the plucked style. However, most of the plucked
songs have two or three parts and thus have a much thicker texture when they
interact than that heard in music played on the umakhweyana bow. In fact the
plucked guitar technique produces a sound that is more like music made in
a communal setting, that is, vocal music consisting of a number of simultaneously sounding parts, than in a solo setting. It is the strummed songs that
are more overtly connected to the sound associated with umakhweyana bow
music on account of their harmonic structure and because of the way the guitar is strummed. The strumming style is such that the same action that occurs
in the playing of the umakhweyana bow is emulated through the persistent
emphasis on the downward strumming action.
The three notes that can be played on the umakhweyana bow are translated in these songs into two or three chords. While in bow music root progressions either a tone or a semitone apart are articulated, in these strummed
guitar songs the root movement is often sounded in the vocal part while the
parallel stepwise movement of the notes a fifth above the root is emphasized
on the guitar.

34|Chapter 2

This procedure is clearly evident in the song Nomoya (circa 1956) and
the song with which it is paired, Katazile. In these two songs different permutations are drawn out of the harmonic principle of two juxtaposed triads
a tone apart so that while guitar and voice draw on the notes made available in this harmonic framework, different notes are emphasized in each. In
Katazile the guitar strums a three-chord pattern that emphasizes the stepwise motion of F# E D that is derived from the triads with adjacent roots:
D F# A and E G B.
The song Nomoya has a short introduction where the guitar plays the
two chords that are the harmonic foundation of the song. The guitar part is
dominated by a stepwise movement between E and F#. The upper note of
each of the juxtaposed triads A C E and B D F# is emphasized in the guitar
part. The vocals section is made up of two melodic ideas: the first starts in a
high register, descends, and then flattens out. The relationship between the
first part of the melody and the second is suggestive of a call-and-response
mode. The second melodic idea is related to the flattened out part of the
first; it is shorter than the first and presented repeatedly with many subtle
variations. This second melodic idea soon becomes the focus of the song. The
most obvious variation to this melodic idea is the alteration of the last note
of the phrase; in the first instance the last note is B and in the second it is A
(or thereabouts as the pitch in these songs is not true to the tempered scale of
western music). This stepwise movement from B to A underpins the harmonies expressed in the guitar part as these are the root notes of the chords that
are played on the guitar.
The harmonic principles that are used in this song have precedence in
umakhweyana bow music; however, it is not only in the harmonic connection
that this song recalls umakhweyana bow music but also in the strumming
style of playing the guitar. In strumming the guitarist produces a sound that
is constructed out of a number of notes (a chord) but uttered in unison as
one event; as opposed to a plucking style where the guitarist produces independent melodic lines that exist as separate events that are sounded simultaneously but that maintain their separateness. There are three chord events,
each emphasizing one note, in this song (Nomoya); these are E, F, and A, a
three-note foundation similar in principle to that to which umakhweyana bow
players were bound.
There is a short idiosyncratic outburst in the middle of this song: Phuzushukela barks his name forcefully but without interrupting the flow of
song in any way. This is just a momentary exclamation that is quite startling
in its affect as it is not preempted and has no connection to the rest of the
song. This exclamation takes place at a point about two-thirds through the
song, where we have come to expect to hear the performance of izibongo.

Maskandas Early Years|35

Nevertheless, this exclamation at this point in this song sounds very much like
an impromptu response to a need to put his mark on his music. Phuzushukela
sings this song with this exclamation.
These two songs (Nomoya and Katazile) are shaped around the
presentation of the melodic material as two ideas. The first begins higher
than the second, but the second has more repeats with minor variations
and is longer. The music is heard in two sections where the vocal part
is made up of a number of repeats of either of the two melodies. Phuzushukelas compositional focus is on the tonality. The melodic material is
chosen because of the tonal system that he has engagedone founded on
two triads that are close but nevertheless the source of difference. Difference is thus expressed subtlety in these two songs. There is little posturing
or self-conscious position-taking here, only natural, gentle, and intimate
self-expression.

Songs with Plucked Guitar Accompaniment

Twenty of the twenty-eight songs have guitar accompaniment that is always
plucked. The first songs in this collection to have plucked guitar accompaniment appear on the second disc, dating thus from the latter years of the 1950s.
Songs with plucked and strummed guitar accompaniment are thus muddled
together in this whole collection, suggesting that the shift from one style to
the other was part of a broad process of development rather than an abrupt
abandonment of strumming for plucking.

Number 3, Zakwethu, and Number 4, Waphuma

The titles of a number of the songs in this entire collection have been recorded
with incorrect spelling. The names of these two songs are recorded as Zakwetho and Wabooma but should read Zakwethu and Waphuma.
These two tracks are very similar. The guitar part is made up of two short
melodic phrases that do not have a wide range of pitches or diverse rhythmic
patterns.
Like the vocal organization in the two songs discussed earlier, the lowerregister melodic idea dominates in both songs and is presented with more
variations and more repeats than the higher-register melody.
In number 3, both melodies of the guitar part are made up of eight notes of
even duration. In the lower part the notes F and E-flat are at times emphasized
by the sounding of these notes together with the same pitch an octave higher,
a feature that could suggest the possibility of a middle part. (See Figure 2.1.)
In number 4, the phrase is made up of six notes rather than eight, and as in
the previous track, the last two notes of the phrase are emphasized by adding

36|Chapter 2

Figure 2.1

the same pitch an octave higher. Number 4 differs from 3 in that the upper
part is made up of three long notes. The most important feature to note here
is that the guitar part is relatively simple, with a lot of repeated notes of the
same duration. (See Figure 2.2.)

Figure 2.2

Both these songs open with an introductory section that is patterned

in a way that many would hear now as a signature of maskanda: a pattern that has free rhythm that begins with the motive (shown in Figure
2.3) and ends with irregular patterns that move very quickly through the
octave coming to rest on a fifth below the lower note of the octave (in
Waphuma the span of this passage is from A above middle C to D below
middle C).8

Figure 2.3

Number 5, Usebensile, and Number 6, Ungqondo

In numbers 5 and 6 different textures are explored by varying the relationships between the guitar parts and between the guitar and the vocals.
Number 5 stands apart as quite idiosyncratic. It has a relatively long
introductory section where the guitar and voice sound in unison in an
improvisatory style that came to be associated with the izihlabo section of
later versions of maskanda. The voice mimics the guitar sliding between
notes and bending single pitches as the guitar does. Both guitar and voice
sound a descending passage that has a wider range than heard in the previous songs. The guitar part in the rest of the song is based on a descending
phrase, which is divided into two parts that are varied in an improvisatory
fashion.
While different parts are more evident in number 6 than in the previous
track, common parts are still shared by the voice and the guitar. This is most

Maskandas Early Years|37

clearly apparent in the body of the song (number 6) where the guitar repeats
the last phrase of the vocal part. Unlike the earlier songs where the guitar
parts are made up of notes of even duration, here dotted rhythms are used.
Two main parts with some variation are featured.
The higher part plays the following phrase as shown in Figure 2.4a:

Figure 2.4a

The lower part plays as shown in Figure 2.4b:

Figure 2.4b

Varied as shown in Figure 2.4c:

Figure 2.4c

A denser texture than in the previous songs is produced by staggered entries.

This technique is used frequently throughout the rest of this body of songs.

Number 12, Lalisa Ingane, and Number 13, Nomnyaka

In number 12 the top register notes have a longer duration than the shorter
repeated notes in the lower part. In this track the parts are staggered so that
although each part is made up of six crotchets, their downbeats do not coincide. In number 13 a different relationship between the two guitar parts is
explored. The upper part is introduced with a melodic phrase that is almost
identical to that sung in the voice. As the song progresses this part becomes
fragmented and the lower part takes precedence with the upper voice interjecting with ornamented motives derived from its opening melodic phrase.
The rhythmic tension that is evident in the previous song is also evident here
in a two against three relationship between the parts.

Number 15, Khala nga Khona, and Number 16, Simanga Singane
In numbers 15 and 16 there is a new development: the guitar now has three
distinct parts. Number 15 has an ostinato middle part; the top part is closely

38|Chapter 2

linked to the vocal part and the lower part is made up of a four-pitch descending pattern with notes of longer duration; the last notes of the lower phrase are
sounded reluctantly after the beat.
Many of the songs that follow from this point have three voice parts.

Number 17, Ngangingalele ekhaya, and Number 18, Ma Nene

Number 17 stands out from what went before because of the way the musical
material is organized and because the various components of the music are
more defined and more easily distinguishable from one another. The song
begins with a guitar introduction that is divided into two sections; the first
is an improvisatory, rhythmically free passage that introduces the harmonic
foundation of the song, and the second is rhythmically measured and introduces the main melodic material. The most prominent guitar part works in
conversation with the vocal part responding at the end of each vocal phrase
with a motive derived from the vocal melody. This main part has two parts:
the first is introduced in the introductory guitar solo at the beginning of the
song, and the second follows the drop in pitch register of the vocal melody
later in the song. The two main guitar parts are shown in Figures 2.5a and b:

Figures 2.5a and 2.5b

The middle part is an ostinato made up fast-moving notes of even duration

that alternate between G# and F#. The guitar parts in this song (17) are referenced in a substantial amount of maskanda from a range of different artists
who followed Phuzushukela.
In number 18 the approach to composition is similar to the previous song.
The main difference between the two songs is in tempo: in this song, the
tempo is slower.

Number 19, Esinawani, and Number 20, Ntogwana

In songs 19 and 20 the guitar sound is different from the previous tracks;
here the acoustic guitar is replaced by an electric guitar. There is much
more of a twang to the notes played on the guitar, which recalls the
mbaqanga sound. In both these tracks the approach to the guitar part is different from the previous songs. The texture of three independent melodic
lines is replaced by a single dominant melodic line that sounds in rapid

Maskandas Early Years|39

notes that often play a number of repeats of the same note. In number 19
this main melody is focused on a descending scale passage; in number 20
the melodic motive is shorter but also descending. In this track the guitar
part is quite fragmented, offering sporadic accompaniment or sounding in
response to the vocal part.

Number 21, Themba Lami, and Number 22, Isidwaba

Numbers 21 and 22 once again have quite a different flavor to what has been
discussed so far. Both these songs have distinct features of shared community songs from the public domain. As both Clegg and Muller point out,
this would not have been an unusual practice in maskanda at this time. In
fact the capacity to rework familiar songs from a traditional repertoire for the
maskanda context was regarded as a valuable skill (Clegg 1981; Muller 1995).
The second of these two songs, number 22, has a pace and tonality that is
strongly reminiscent of amahubo. In both these tracks the guitar part presents
as a compromise between the texture of those earlier songs with a three-part
guitar accompaniment and the single-line approach evident in numbers 19
and 20. The guitar part is made up of busy notes with a quite varied melodic
contour rather than being unidirectional (usually descending) and is set in
contrast to the vocal melody that has a smooth contour and fewer notes of
longer duration.

Number 23, Umakotshana, and Number 24, Mkhwenyana

There is very little difference between the guitar accompaniment in numbers 23 and 24 other than the tempo at which it is played. In number
24 the guitar part is played twice as fast as it is on number 23. The most
prominent features here are the narrow range of notes that are used, and
the descending pattern with many repeats of the same note (a feature of
the earlier songs).
The remaining four songs (numbers 2528) reveal a similar approach
to the guitar part to that which is evident in these two songs. Numbers 25
and 26 stand out from all the other songs, not on account of the guitar
accompaniment, but because they include a female vocalist;9 in number
26 the female vocalist takes the lead role and the guitar and male vocals
join forces in accompanying her. The ostinato section of the guitar part,
which featured in many of the previous songs, takes precedence in these
last songs but with some variations; there are still many repeated notes,
but these occur within the framework of a melodic idea or motif. While
two parts are played on the guitar simultaneously, one is always given precedence over the other in accordance with the vocal section with which it

40|Chapter 2

is paired: the lower part is that which is derived from the ostinato sections
heard earlier and is paired with that section of the melody that is lower in
register; the upper part is an extension or variation derived from the main
melodic idea sung in the vocals and is paired with vocals that are sung in
the higher register.
In number 28 the guitar has two independent parts; the lower part is
played in notes of even duration (see Figure 2.6a).

Figure 2.6a

The upper part is marginally more varied and has two versions (see Figure
2.6b):

Figure 2.6b

The texture of the guitar part is the consequence of the interaction of the
upper and the lower part (see Figure 2.7):

Figure 2.7

There are a number of important developments in the compositional

process in these later songs. These developments do not occur consistently
across all of the songs although some features occur more often than others. The guitar part now has a more dense texture as it is more intricately
layered with three parts as opposed to the two parts of the earlier songs. The

Maskandas Early Years|41

harmony is often rooted in an ostinato pattern that articulates either one

or two notes as central to the tonal conceptualization of a song. The use of
the electric guitar instead of the acoustic guitar on two of the tracks is the
first hint of what was to follow in Phuzushukelas later music (and maskanda
generally) and suggests an invitation to associate his music with the already
popular commercially produced style of mbaqanga. There is variation in
the pace of the songs from one song to the next and in different sections of
single songs. Many of the songs have an izibongo section, which is always
accompanied by the guitar.
As a result of a constantly shifting approach to the construction of
these songs there is little sense of any firm resolve as to what should and
should not constitute maskanda, but rather a sense of experimentation
and a quest to find more variety in the components of the music and a
fuller texture.

Songs with Plucked and Strummed Guitar Accompaniment

Number 7, Uzizeni, number 8, Amamfelenjana, number 9, Thando
Luphelile, and number 11, Diki Diki, all have plucked and strummed guitar accompaniment. On numbers 7 and 8, the guitar is strummed but with
some emphasis given to individual notes; on numbers 9 and 11, the plucked
style is used for the introduction while the strummed style is used to accompany the vocals. In these four songs there is an attempt to combine both styles
of guitar accompaniment. This approach is, however, not pursued beyond
these four songs.
Number 7 begins with a short introduction, which is strummed on the
guitar with an emphasis on the top (higher) notes constructing the outline of
a melody. The vocals begin by adding to this introduction. This combination
is abruptly interrupted by an unexpected shift in rhythm. The rhythm slows
down and the strumming becomes more labored. Two discordant nontriadic
chords a tone apart (with F and G as the bass notes) are repeated continuously, and on each shift E-flat is sounded on the beat in the upper part. This
song has a longer izibongo section than some of the other songs, which is
performed against this repeated alternation between two chords on the guitar.

Vocals and Lyrics

The vocal sections in this collection are most often divided into two parts
that function in a call-and-response relationship. The melodic ideas tend
to be made up of a short descending phrase with a range of not more than
a fifth, and the notes usually move in stepwise motion. In most songs the

42|Chapter 2

vocals operate independently of the guitar part; this is particularly noticeable

in songs that have a plucked accompaniment. Different vocal registers are
sometimes used to express different perspectives, which may also be further
contrasted through timbre, volume, and singing style.
The lyrics are made up of short phrases that represent a position that is never
fully explained. These lyrics are thus vague and incomplete suggestions of narratives that leave much open to interpretation. Their ambiguity indicates that
the songs are intended for a small community of people who would understand
the circumstances that gave rise to the story that is alluded to. Implicit in
the lyrics in this collection of songs is the location of the life experiences that
are recalled in a rural, traditional setting. Key signifiers of this setting are the
references to activities, customs, and relationships associated with traditional
lifestyles such as polygamous marriage, traditional attire of married women
(Isidwaba), women at the river (Waphuma), lobola, stick fighting (Nogwaja), and the custom of a woman being accompanied by a younger girl when
she first moves to the homestead of her husbands family (Umakotshana).
Most of the songs are about relationships, particularly those between
men and women. While a few of the songs allude to a working relationship between men and women, as in Lalisa Ingane, most of the songs are
about the heartbreak of betrayal or abandonment by a lover, or girlfriend as
in Nomoya. The working relationship in Lalisa Ingane is framed by a
traditional setting through the husbands request to take off his wifes marriage skirt (isidwaba) once she has finished putting the baby to sleep.10 While
this is expressed as a request, she would in fact be hard-pressed to comply in
accordance with her prescribed role as a wife.
In Nomoya (With the wind) betrayal in love is presented in dramatic and
violent terms. Phuzushukela likens the hurt of abandonment by a lover to the pain
of being hit on the head with an axe. Nevertheless, despite the depths of his devastation, the jilted lover is resigned to his fate as he resolves to go with the wind.
Nomoya (With the wind)
Ngthule Gogo!
Wangishaya ngembazo ekhanda. x3
Kwabhlungu ukwaliwa. x2
Wangenza uNoyila. x2
Kwabhlungu ukwaliwa. x3
Ngohamba nomoya ma! x4

Remove the burden granny!

You hit my head with an axe
It hurts to be dumped
Noyila has placed her mark.
It hurts to be dumped
I will go with the wind ma!

The song Thando Luphelile (Love is finished) also has the theme of love, but
here it is used to raise a different issueit is not love for a woman but love for music
that is addressed. Phuzushukela claims that his love for music has finished. As is

Maskandas Early Years|43

usually the case, the lyrics here are open to a range of different interpretations. I
read this as a statement that is not simply bemoaning his waning interest in music,
but one that laments a shift in his publics aesthetic ideals of music. As there was
increasing movement between rural and urban spaces and people experienced
a wider range of music, so peoples musical tastes changed, as did the context in
which music was made and experienced. What I think Phuzushukela is saying is
that the music that he is familiar with is disappearingtradition is changing.
While the song Thando Luphelile bemoans the loss of love for music,
the song Diki Diki is a celebration of Phuzushukelas success as a musician.11 Drawing on the traditional notion of ukuhloniparespect particularly
for the elders in a community, Phuzushukela lays claim to a social position
worthy of respect. He says he is like a person with gray hair. He is not physically old, but he is entitled to the kind of respect that is afforded the elders
because of what he has achieved as a musician.
Both Thando Luphelile and Diki Diki include quite extensive izibongo sections. The inclusion of izibongo in maskanda developed as one of
the distinguishing features of the genre and plays a key role in the formulation of maskanda as traditional practice. Izibongo is one of the most revered
performance practices in Zulu history, which is treasured by the Zulu as
constituting their highest form of traditional literary expression (Rycroft and
Ngcobo 1988, 11). It could thus be expected that the inclusion of this practice
in maskanda would automatically give it credence as a performance practice
that was fully encapsulated in tradition. Izibongo performance is an empowering practice, one that is intended to lift up and give value to those who are
the subject of the praises: They were used to excite and delight. They were
a fairly faithful and inspired record of your career and your character (H. I.
E. Dhlomo qtd. in Rycroft and Ngcobo 1988, 12). As maskanda developed,
the izibongo section became increasingly important. In the context of the
political economy of the 1960s, one that was exploitative and disempowering
particularly for young Zulu men, izibongo offered a way of making and asserting an identity in performance that could not be made or asserted in everyday life. Not all of the songs include izibongo sections, and where they are
included they are not always the same, in poetry, length, or significance. This
is in fact typical of izibongo generally: Being essentially oral in their composition and delivery, their content in each performance may vary quite widely,
according to the nature and context of the occasion, the responsiveness of the
audience, and the personal whim of the praiser (Rycroft and Ngcobo 1988,
11).12 Izibongo can thus be seen to carry a considerable amount of signifying
potential as it can be tuned in to a range of different contexts and modified to respond in a way that would put the context and the audience to work
in order to achieve its intention, namely, to build and celebrate a person, an

44|Chapter 2

idea of identity, a family, clan, region, or nation. Izibongo performance thus

has the potential to give agency. It is often experienced as a calling to action,
particularly since it is also associated with demonstrations of power, and in
fact on certain occasions when a man was expected to display his potential
prowess by performing the ukugiya solo combat dance, Dhlomo notes that:
You could dance to the amount and quantity of your praise poems onlyand
no more [while these were yelled out by your peers] (ibid.).
In some instances, as in the song Nomoya, there is a mere allusion to the
izibongo idea (expressed in Phuzushukelas unexpected outburst of his name),
in others the izibongo section occupies a more significant part of the song.
The izibongo texts are often modified to suit the general mood or intention of
the song. The izibongo (or sections of it) heard in Thando Luphelile is quite
commonly used in this collection of songs.
Thando Luphelile (Love is finished)
Yebo!! Yes!!
Uthando lwengoma Love for music
Love (for music) has finished father
Uthando luphelile baba x2
Seluphelile baba It is finished
Hhom oshi hom...
Izibongo:
Ngayibamba mina Ive got it,
Ngqobho and Matikitelas son
mfo kaNgqobho kaMatikitela me
in the land of the Bhaca that has red
emjaji emabhaceni elimabelebovu
breasts
Ngayibamba mina kaMqabuyagoloz
Ive got it, me son of Mqabuyagoloza
They say you hit him on the ear
Bethumshaye ngendlebe etsheni

against a rock
kwangafela kokapteni.
and the captain didnt feel it.
Ive gone to Nkandla where he was
NgazuleNkandla lapho azalwa
born
khona phansi kwegolokodo down below Golokodo
intabayakwakhe leyo
that is his mountain.
He drinks from the river, Nsuze
Umfula wakhe awuphuzayo iNsuze.
Ive got it, me, Phuzushukela.
Ngayibamba mina Phuzushukela
Tall is the white man, tall is he who
Mud umlungu mud uyibukwana

wears glasses.

Like the lyrics in this collection of songs, the meanings of the poetry in this
izibongo are very ambiguous. Phuzushukela makes a number of suggestions

Maskandas Early Years|45

about his identity and status. The repeat of the phrase Ive got it is a claim
of accomplishment and position. The suggestion is that he has both physical
strength and social superiority. He uses an accepted linguistic strategy often
employed in Zulu-speaking families to express respect by addressing someone
indirectly in the third person; here he claims respect for himself by speaking
of himself in the third person: Ive gone to Nkandla where he was born, down
below Golokodo, that is his mountain. He drinks from the river Nsuze.
Bearing in mind that this repertoire was composed at a time (in the late
1950s or early 1960s) when there was not only a firm division between white
and black society in South Africa, but also at a time when all that was of
white society was represented as superior to all that was of black society,
Phuzushukelas reference to himself in his izibongo as being, tall is the white
man, tall is he who wears glasses can be read as an assertion of superiority
or sophistication. The term tall is used here as it is in the idiom to stand
tall, meaning to be proud. The general disparagement of indigenous musical practices, lifestyles, and religious ideals over many generations since the
earliest encounters with colonists and missionaries had an effect on the way
Zulu people viewed their own culture. It is not surprising that many were
overwhelmed by western hegemony and came to view all that was western
(white) as superior. This statement thus exposes the social power structures in
place where notions of accomplishment and even outstanding performance
in a genre far from the musical environment of those in power is understood
and framed in a way that ultimately pays homage to the notion of white
superiority. Erlmann notes in relation to isicathamiya how the language of
the dominant culture permeated isicathamiya performance even in relation
to notions of proper performance (1992, 695). This claim is of course not
without irony. Phuzushukelas musical practice in this collection is certainly
not self-consciously marked with western ideals and principles as were some
other musical practices developing at this time (such as isicathamiya). In fact
I do not think he is claiming western practice as superior but that he is using
this perception in an inverted way to express his position of strength. This is
an allegorical representation of his identity, which appropriates the impact
of decades of disdain for Zulu ways of life and puts it to work for the opposite
effect.
The most striking general feature of this collection of Phuzushukelas
early songs is that the compositional process is not approached uniformly.
Each song or pair of songs presents as experimental with different musical
procedures being tried out but always within the framework of an aesthetic
sensibility that is grounded in traditional Zulu performance practices. The
idea of Zulu tradition does, however, not appear to be referenced in a selfconscious or contrived way, but rather as a familiar set of ideals and practices

46|Chapter 2

rooted in lived experience. The consistent occurrence of musical procedures

associated with traditional musical practices as described by David Rycroft
(1967) is also an important feature of this collection of songs. As is the case
with earlier music described by Rycroft, these songs are built on two (or three)
musical ideas that recur in a cyclical arrangement, operate independently,
and have different points of beginning and ending. The relationship between
the parts in a song produces an overall cycle of beats that is not articulated,
but that is felt as an implicit element of coherence. In most instances the relationship between the two parts is antiphonal; at times the parts overlap so that
one enters before the other is complete and at times they sound alternately.
Where the parts sound together, the intervals are most commonly 4ths, 5ths,
or octaves. This harmonic configuration of the songs is not diatonic but based
on a bi-tonal harmonic system. These intervallic relationships are thus the
consequence of the parallel sounding of notes derived from two juxtaposed
triads, which will always render a significant number of 4ths and 5ths.13 All
these are features strongly associated with traditional musical practices and
ideals. These early songs are thus firmly rooted in their musical discourse in a
history of practices that were experienced and understood as traditional.
Suggestions of experiences beyond the rural setting of traditional lifestyles
slip in momentarily in some of the later songs where some of the diatonic
harmonies of amakwaya and the guitar sounds of mbaqanga are heard. Nevertheless, despite these interventions, this collection is firmly embedded in a
rural setting. There is however a move expressed in this collection away from
the guitarist as a wandering individualist who charms women, to the guitarist as one who is more firmly and permanently embedded in a social setting.
This social setting is one in which relationships and alliances are negotiated
and tried out but again always within the context of the ideals and lifestyles
associated with Zulu tradition.
There are distinguishable features that emerge as characteristic of Phuzushukelas style during the late 1950s and early 1960s. Phuzushukela engages
contrast in the various layers of his musical discourse. Most of his songs are
based on two short and contrasting melodic ideas. There are also examples
where he sings in two different voices with contrasting pitch registers, volume,
and intensity, where guitar parts are set with long notes against short notes,
where dotted rhythms are set against even rhythms, and where descending patterns contrast with ostinato patterns. While the form is not uniform
throughout this body of songs (some have an introduction on guitar, some
include izibongo), most of the songs are structured around the relationship
and interaction between two parts. In some instances the form is sectionalized most notably where the melodic material is divided into two main ideas
(as in the song Nomoya). In other songs the form is continuous. In the latter

Maskandas Early Years|47

the focus is often on a call-and-response relationship within a single melodic

idea. The call is projected in a strong singing style and the response (sung
in a lower register) is almost mumbled. This approach is quite clear in the
song Usebensile. There is a general development in these songs from quite a
simple uncluttered approach to form and content, to one that includes much
more musical activity. As the music fills out in texture it becomes more clearly
reminiscent of vocal music.
Although the ambiguity of the lyrics of the songs in this collection suggests that they were composed with a particular community in mind, one
that would be in a position to recognize the contexts of the events or stories
that the lyrics tell, there is a subtle transition from the intimacy of individual expression to a more public performance context. Individual expression
is referenced most obviously in the strumming style of guitar playing in the
earlier songs, which is reminiscent of the solo performance style played on
the umakhweyana bow. Like umakhweyana bow songs, these songs suggest
an intimate performance context. A more public performance context is referenced through techniques and styles associated with community music
making. The move away from an individual to a group sensibility is concomitant with a change in the context in which this music was made. As time
progressed commercial directives had a stronger bearing on the music than
personal directives, and this automatically propelled the music into a more
public domain. The strong emphasis on an essentialized social identity as
the essence of Zuluness, which was punted in the most prominent political
discourse of the time, had a strong impact on how the music was made for the
market. Ethnic consciousness was on the rise, primarily as a consequence of
the imposition of social division vigilantly pursued by the apartheid regime.
In the early recordings, Phuzushukelas music still holds a considerable
measure of individual integrity in relation to its expression of Zuluness. While
the music has obvious and quite fundamental ties to older performance
practices socially embedded in the past, these ties are forged with a naturalness that carries little suggestion of a heightened Zulu consciousness; rather,
this music gives expression to a consciousness of individual experience that
happened in the context of Zuluness. There is little evidence to suggest a
self-conscious construction of Zuluness since there is a noticeable lack of uniformity, that is, there is compositional and stylistic flexibility, and since the
lyrics are characteristically obscure in their meaning. Most of the songs are
rooted within a specific and particularized setting that renders them ambiguous in a broader context.

48|Chapter 2

Phuzushukelas Later Songs

The Music
By the end of his career Phuzushukelas music had had a considerable
impact on public perceptions of maskanda. His part in the development of
maskanda as a body of practice with recognizable musical processes and
procedures as well as markers of identity, location, language, and social setting was considerable, not only on account of what he offered musically but
also because of what his performance career represented in the context of an
oppressive and restrictive socioeconomic environment that limited opportunities for black South Africans to engage with the market other than
under white supervision. The transformation of this expressive medium
into a means of earning a living brought a range of new and different ways
of thinking into play. Commercialization gave commodity value to a form
of action that had not previously been considered as a potential way of making a living. While this meant that something was indeed gained in that
the practice was given value in the broader economic domain, this advantage came at a price: the correlation between the compositional choices
and market trends added a new set of directives to maskanda. As a result of
the apartheid homeland policy, there was a place in the market for a musical practice that was appropriately configured as tradition and that could
take on the role as a medium through which particular notions of Zuluness
could be asserted. Musicians responded to market trends in an economic
setting that demanded at least some measure of complicity with apartheid
ideology in order to be successful. It is not clear when the term maskanda
replaced the designation Zulu guitar music or Zulu traditional music,
but what is clear is that maskandas constitution as a genre took place hand
in hand with its constitution as Zulu traditional music.
Under review in this section are twenty songs recorded on two albums,
the first, Sehlule Umkhomazi, released in 1982, and the second, Uthando
Selungehlule, released posthumously in 1985. By this stage the conversion
of maskanda from a solo format to a band format was well established. The
instrumental lineup on both albums is lead guitar, bass guitar, and drums; a
violin is included on the first album and a concertina on the second. Many of
the songs on both of these albums include a chorus of female singers.
Unlike the earlier collection of songs, these songs are far more uniform in
the musical ideas that are used and in the way the musical material is organized. Nearly all of the songs have a set of common features, namely, a short
introductory section that introduces the main melodic idea, descending vocal
melodies, short cyclical patterns played on the instruments, and a standardized form that follows this basic structure:

Maskandas Early Years|49

Short introductory section on solo guitar

Aa number of repeats of main melody by the soloist
Bchorus (derived from the soloists melody) with solo
interjections
Izibongo
A
B
One of the most obvious differences between this collection of songs and
the earlier collection of songs is in the rhythmic aspects of these songs. The
inclusion of the drums altered the relationship between the different layers
or parts in the music. In the solo music, the different voice parts played on
the guitar most often enter an implicit musical cycle at different points. These
staggered entries produce a measure of rhythmic uncertainty because their
point of reference is not articulated. The drums eradicate this uncertainty by
bringing all the parts into line so that even where there are staggered entries
the impact of this process is diminished because all the parts are heard in
relation to a firm and clearly articulated drumbeat. What might be seen
as rhythmic waywardness is thus controlled and indeed held captive to the
sounding of a regular pattern on the drums.
In these later songs the instrumental parts are not always staggered. Here
there are often many repeats of the same musical pattern and each cycle that
is played by a different instrument is coordinated so that it begins on the
downbeat articulated in the drums. The music is thus simplified. Most of the
music on these two albums is performed at a consistent and easy pace. In
some instances, as in some of the earlier songs, the lead guitar and vocals
work firmly together, while the bass, drums, and chorus work together. The
lead guitar in fact does not have a lead role in most songs.
The tonality of the songs on these two albums draws on two options.
In some instances it is based on a hexa-scale; for example, in Ikhubalo
Lenyanga the series of notes derived from the juxtaposed tonic F major and
g minor triads forms the basis of the tonality. In other instances the tonality
is clearly diatonic as in Amagumbi Amane, where the bass cycle is a I-IV-V
pattern (F B-flat C). Where the harmony is diatonic, there is a stronger connection to the sound and style of mbaqanga. In the initial stages of its development, one of the most important features of maskanda that distinguished
it from mbaqanga was its tonality. It was largely commercial aspirations that
changed this feature. A particularly interesting feature of this later collection
is the use of different tuning systems simultaneously. In some of the songs the
soloist sings in tempered pitch, while the chorus sings using a series of notes
that includes intervals that are smaller than a semitone. The tuning system

50|Chapter 2

used by the chorus is thus not reconciled with that used by the soloist. For
example, in track 3 on Sehlule Umkhomazi, Wayithinta inyamazane (You
have challenged the big buck), the chorus sings the following phrase (which
is also played in the bass) and both parts use a technique of sliding into notes
close to, but not firmly on, the pitches shown below in Figure 2.8:

Figure 2.8

While the opening note of the soloist is A, the opening note of the chorus is
somewhere around A. The principle of staggered entries used in the presentation of rhythmic and melodic material typically in Phuzushukelas earlier
music (and indeed in a lot of traditional Zulu music) is applied here to the
tonal aspect of the music so that we also have tunings that are staggered in
relation to each other. It is through notes that hover around tuned pitches that
the music recalls traditional practice and through notes that are firmly tuned
that the music recalls city-based or more contemporary music, and both
these recollections occur in the same time frame. The position of maskanda
musicians in this language emerges not simply as one that is between two
worlds but as one that is in two worlds at the same time. This presents quite
a different slant on the identity of the maskanda musician to that which one
tends to imagine because of the connection between maskanda musicians
and labor migrancy. Here the act of appropriating different elements from the
two apparently different worlds of the urbanized westerner and the rural African/Zulu and compressing them into one performance moment suggests an
alternative to the idea that maskanda is rooted in a space between these two
positions and that these positions are irreconcilably different. The suggestion
here is that perhaps these worlds are only irreconcilable if they are perceived
to be so, and if one finds their engagement (that is, the sounding of the two
differently tuned pitches together) offensive. The discourse then poses as a
question; the response to that question is dependent on the perspective of the
listener, not on the music. This is by no means the prominent discourse on
Zulu experience in these songs; nevertheless, it is an important indication of
the beginning of a shift away from the construction of the rural homestead as
central to Zulu experience. While the location of Phuzushukelas early songs
was clearly that of the rural, traditional space, the location of these later
songs is not so clear. Home as the place of belonging is still presented
here as in the rural homestead of the past, but this homestead was rapidly

Maskandas Early Years|51

becoming more distant from the reality of everyday experience, which took
place much of the time in a location well removed from the rural homestead.
The singing style of the chorus in many of these songs is strongly reminiscent of religious or ceremonial music that falls under the general category
of amahubo, including war songs and wedding songs. Besides being sung in
a tuning system that includes microtones, the chorus parts are often quite
labored. Furthermore, the chorus is not arranged according to voice parts,
and as a result, it sounds like community singing rather than a choir.
There are a number of tracks on both these albums that deal with spiritual or religious issues. These usually have a trancelike quality with heavy
slower cycles repeated throughout. Track 5 on Sehlule Umkhomazi, Ngiyethwasa, is a typical example of this type of song. Here the bass guitar repeats an
A - G - F pattern, which is followed by the violin. The vocals are divided into
two parts. The first is a descending motive while the second (which operates
as a response) has a much flatter contour. The relationship between soloist
and chorus is antiphonal. Within the context of Phuzushukelas repertoire as a
whole, these songs play a considerable role in marking his music as belonging
to Zulu tradition.
The presentation of Phuzushukelas music in a band format resulted in
a marked shift in the way musical procedures were used and what was valued. It also produced a shift away from an intimate personalized setting to
one that is more public and more accessible to a wider range of Zulu people.
There is thus clearly a move away from the musics social role as a medium
through which young men could entice, charm, and woo young women, to
one engaged for more general commentary on broader social issues.

The Lyrics
The lyrics in these later songs are less obscure than those of the early songs
and most often speak of public rather than private issues.
On the album Sehlule Umkhomazi two themes dominate: the first is
concerned with issues of power, physical strength, pride, and dominance;
the second is concerned with spirituality or the supernatural, healing, and
witchcraft.
The first theme is most often presented in the form of a challenge. The
first three tracks are all concerned with the first theme, and their titles are
clearly indicative of their subject matter; Sehlule uMkhomazi (We have
defeated uMkhomazi); Wathinta Amabhubesi (You have provoked the
lions); Wayithinta Inyamazane (You have challenged the big buck). All
three songs are an assertion of a position of strength through competition.

52|Chapter 2

Track 4 Amagubhi amane (I have traveled the whole world) is a variation on

this theme of superiority and success.
Tracks 5 to 9 are concerned with different aspects of the second theme,
but always under the banner of the belief systems associated with Zulu tradition. Track 5, Ngiyethwasa, speaks of the call to become a diviner. According to Zulu belief, izangoma (diviners) do not choose their profession but are
called to practice by the ancestors. The statement that muti magic is seen to
be in use is central to the lyrics in track 6, Langalibalele.14 Track 7, Safa
Indlala (We are starving here), alludes to a conglomerate of issues and ways
of being: the most obvious issue is poverty, but it is suggested that poverty is
not simply a consequence of the concrete physical conditions of lived experience, but that it is also a reflection of the relationship between the living and
their ancestors. In Zulu tradition, the ancestors need to be appeased in order
to gain their protection. Here Phuzeshukela asks Whose beer is that?, and
in so doing he suggests that despite the fact that traditional practice in relation
to this relationship with the ancestors has been observed, the people are still
starving. The ceremonial function of beer brewing is represented here as ineffective. The lyrics of track 8, Isemanzini Inyoka (The snake is in the river),
consist of two lines only:
Isemanzini inyoka My snake is in the river
My snake is in the sea.
Inyoka yami isemanzini olwandle.

While the lyrics of this song are simple, and sparse, their meaning is not.
Shiyani Ngcobo explained the meaning of this song as follows:
Phuzushukela is speaking here with the voice of a woman.
He is not really exactly talking about inyoka, a snake; the word usually used
here for this snake that he is talking about is ixhanti or in Xhosa they say umamlambo. This is the snake for a woman. This is about a womans power for her husband. When the woman goes to bed the snake is with her and it creeps between
her legs. When the husband comes to have sex, the snake opens its mouth and it
takes the man; early in the morning before the man wakes up, the woman carries
the snake down to the river and it lives there in the water until she comes back for
it the next day. When the man wakes up he is full of love for this woman as she
is very good with sex. If he has other wives he will just chase them away and stay
with this one woman only. (Personal interview, Durban, July 2008)

This song alludes to the insecurity that women feel about their status in
polygamous marriages. It also suggests that a woman may have to look to the
supernatural, to the power of the ixhanti, to keep the attention of her husband

Maskandas Early Years|53

and to make sure she is preferred above all others. The tension between the
female need for a single, secure relationship and the male desire for many
sexual partners underpins this song.
Track 9 celebrates the success of the inyanga (healer) and, in contrast to track 7,
suggests a productive relationship with the ancestors. The lyrics of the last song on
this album, Uzakwethu (track 10), speak of the tension in the relationship between
wives in a polygamous marriage. Uzakwethu is a term used by women who are
married to the same man to address one another. In this song a woman complains
that she is being spoken of badly to her husband by one of his other wives.
All the lyrics on this album are concerned with social issues, practices,
and customs associated with a lifestyle that is embedded in Zulu traditional
thought, where tradition is understood and experienced as something that
has continuity with a past that excludes colonization and western ideologies,
religion, or social constructs.
Unlike the lyrics of the songs on the album Sehlule Umkhomazi, the lyrics
of the songs on Uthando Selungehlule, Phuzushukelas last album, are more
varied from one song to another. Like the album Sehlule Umkhomazi, there
is a strong emphasis on the theme of competition in this album. Five of the
songs carry this theme. Three songs (including the title track) are concerned
with intimate love relationships between men and women. The song Ngofika
Ngithini (What excuse shall I give my in-laws?) speaks about poverty and at
the same time reflects on the impact of poverty on the capacity to execute and
realize traditional practice.15 This song expresses a severe disjuncture in social
life and has the same problematic as is expressed in the song, Safa indlala
(We are starving here), track 7 on Sehlule Umkhomazi. The lyrics of the last
track on this album, We Mayihlome, have the same obscurity typical of the
early songs. Here an individual is taken to task because of his self-centered
ways, but the full context of the story is not exposed.

Izibongo
The izibongo sections in these late songs are more prominent and substantial
than they were in the early songs. All but one of the songs on both albums has
an izibongo section. In some instances it is broken into two parts and may be
quite short. In most of the songs the izibongo section is a significant feature.
In contrast to the lyrics in the main body of the song, which consist of a few
short phrases that are repeated many times, the izibongo is an extended narrative that has few repeated phrases. In all of these songs the izibongo section
either confirms the challenge where the lyrics present some form of contestation, or where there is no challenge, frames the issues that are dealt with
in the body of the song in the context of an assertion of a position of power

54|Chapter 2

and dominance. In the song Ngayibon inqaba (I have seen a disgrace), for
example, the main body of the text is concerned with a family scandal in
which a woman has been unfaithful to her husband with his brother. In contrast to the expression of this situation as one of shame in the body of the song,
the izibongo is proudly assertive. In the face of humiliating family disruptions,
claims of status and authority can be asserted through the izibongo. The role
of Zulu men in their families, and more particularly their position of authority, had been severely undermined well before the 1980s. By now this was very
much a society fractured along gender lines. The increased prominence of
the izibongo section in these songs can be understood as mens performative
solution to experiences of disempowerment. The more men were disempowered the greater the need to assert authority, and the izibongo was well suited
to this purpose. It also suited the ideals of the industry, the ethnic nationalists,
and ultimately also the apartheid government because it was innately an act
of identity performance that had access to selective imagery that put tradition
and heritage at the center of the poetic claims on power and authority.

Phuzushukela and Zulu Ethnic Nationalism

While most Zulu people experienced a significant rupture between past and
present in their everyday lives, there was also a strongly asserted public discourse in ethnic nationalist quarters that insisted on the formulation of identities in the present, primarily in relation to particular aspects of the past. The
kind of continuity that ordinarily occurs between the past and the present in
the transference of value systems, ways of life, and hierarchies of power from
one generation to the next was taken out of lived experience. Families and
communities were fragmented as a consequence of the apartheid policy of
separate development that prevented the constitution of a social order that
would keep these units intact. These units for Zulu people (and black people generally) were sacrificed so that the constructs of colonial order could be
maintained. It was in the context of this policy that ethnic nationalism developed as a complexly constructed discourse that played with identity and difference to claim respect for Zulu heritage, but that paradoxically also marked
difference in a way that suited the ideals of the apartheid government. Ethnic
nationalist discourse relied heavily on the past to give substance to the idea
of an essence of Zuluness, one that was inherited and one that should be preserved at all costs. The capacity of music to blur the boundaries between the
past and the present and in the moment of performance to give experiential
value to an imagined identity made it a valuable tool for both the political and
the economic agendas of those in positions of power in the 1980s.

Maskandas Early Years|55

In Phuzushukelas late repertoire, the domain of Zuluness is not represented

as being made up of individuals with varied perceptions and experiences simply because of the change to a band format but also because of what happens
in the interactions between the different parts that participate in the musical
discourse. The use of different instruments in a band format draws the listeners
attention away from the solo guitar. In the instrumental backing, individual
discourse is substituted with a group discourse. The lead guitars role is simplified and often incidental in its function compared to what it was in the solo
songs. The different timbres of the instruments make different layers in the
music more easily distinguishable from one another. This makes it more obvious when different instruments play the same parts, thus enhancing a sense
of uniformity. The lead guitar and the solo singer work with one musical
idea, and the drums, bass, and chorus work with another. While this strategy is
derived from a principle particularly evident in the early songs that gives rise to
the presentation of two ideas as the foundation of any song, it works here to a
different end, one that separates the individual from the community.
In these later songs there is also a clear shift in the location of the musical discourse. Whereas the early songs are firmly positioned within the geographical location of the rural homestead, the later songs are positioned more
ambivalently in a muddled world that was embedded partly in the city and
partly in the rural areas. By the 1980s when these later songs were released,
life in rural homesteads had become extremely fragile. Labor migrancy was
firmly entrenched as an established way of life and the empowerment that a
traditional rural life afforded men had been significantly eroded. Men found
themselves increasingly alienated from the social world that was supposed to
be their home.
While some quite fundamental features of earlier songs are still evident
in these later songs, such as the use of two musical ideas set in an antiphonal
relationship in the body of the song, the cyclical path of the different parts
and the short descending melodic patterns, there are also some quite fundamental changes to the musical discourse in relation to place, space, and
time, expressed through changes in the lyrics and in the music. As already
mentioned, the place of the music shifted. The time of the music shifted
too, in the sense that the past was more consciously recalled to give meaning
to the present. The space, that is, its purpose and effect, also changed quite
significantly. There is a now much stronger emphasis on competition and, in
keeping with this, a more self-conscious assertion of a version of maleness that
was flavored with the warrior spirit and images of physical strength.

|3
Maskanda as Commodified Tradition

Phuzekhemisis Early Recordings

By the early 1990s the term maskanda was widely used to refer to music
that was thought of as traditional Zulu music and played in a band format
that included amplified acoustic guitar or electric lead guitar, bass guitar, a
western drum kit or programmed drums on recordings, and concertina or
violin or both. Maskanda was well established as a genre constituted as a body
of practice complete with conventions of form and style that marked it as different from other performance practices. Phuzushukelas legacy was taken up
by Phuzekhemisi and his brother Khetani. My focus here is on their two most
successful albums, Imbizo, released in 1992, and Emapalamende, released in
1994. Phuzekhemisi and his brother had recorded four albums before their
success with Imbizo.1
Imbizo and Emapalamende were albums composed and marketed as maskanda, and both were extremely successful. Imbizo set Phuzekhemisi and
Khetani firmly in a position of authority in the public view as masters of the
genre. It is on account of the status of their music and their obvious role as
representatives of the genre as Gallos successors to Phuzushukela that these
two albums have been chosen to highlight some of the most prominent and
widely accepted ideas about maskanda that were in place at the end of the
apartheid era.
Phuzushukelas position as a (relatively) successful maskanda musician
meant that many looked to his style of performance as a cue for their own
performance practice.

Maskanda as Commodified Tradition|57

The similarity between Phuzekhemisis vocal timbre and pitch range and
that of Phuzushukela gave him an advantage as it produced a sense of continuity between the two musicians performance styles. My concern here is
with the nature of this continuity between the performance practices of these
two musicians and perhaps even more importantly with the way Phuzekhemisis musical discourse is constructed, particularly in relation to the description of his music as Zulu music.

The Albums Imbizo and Emapalamende

The songs on these two albums are presented in the band format that was by
this time well established as standard for maskanda. The organization of the
musical material of maskanda had also been standardized by this time, and
there is very little deviation from this standard from one song to the next on
these two albums. In relation to both these features, the standards of practice
are very similar to those evident in Phuzushukelas last two albums, showing
that perceptions of the formal structure of the genre, and its medium of delivery, stayed much the same over a period of ten years.

General Features of the Music

The introductory section is an important feature of maskanda songs. Most of
the songs on these two albums begin in a similar way with a short introductory section that opens with the solo guitar playing some aspect of the main
melody. The other instruments then join this solo guitar part entering one
after the other in close succession.
Songs that begin with an introduction shaped in this way are immediately identifiable as maskanda, and in fact this type of introduction had at
this point come to be expected of maskanda. The vast majority of songs
on these two albums have introductory sections that meet this expectation.
There are a few that begin otherwise: one with a cappella vocals, another
with a tentative concertina part, and the last song on Imbizo, Senzeni,
with a scale-like bass passage. On this track not only is the choice of instrument for the introduction unusual for maskanda but so too is the music that
is played: the bass plays a descending four-note pattern that moves through
the octave always starting a semitone lower than the starting point of the
previous four notes.
The vocal melodies in most of these songs are shaped similarly: they begin
with a short rising section that peaks on a long note, following which the
music descends to the end of the phrase. The length and shape of the main
melody of the song Imbizo typifies this process. (See Figure 3.1.)

58|Chapter 3

Figure 3.1

The feature that has the most significant impact on the musical discourse
in the songs on these two albums is a programmed drumbeat on all of
the tracks. The introduction of a western drum kit (that came with the
transformation of the genre into a band format) had already had a radical
impact on the way the different layers in the music related to one another,
the introduction of a programmed drumbeat increased this impact even
further. With the programmed drum machine, the articulated beat controls
the music, and it does so in an uncompromising and mechanistic way. The
use of programmed percussion sounds has a marked effect on the way the
music is constructed and how the different parts are experienced. Because
of the inflexibility of these programmed beats the breath in the relationship between the parts is eradicated. These percussive sounds thus usurp
the musics liveness as each part is played and is heard in relation to a
drumbeat that is unresponsive to what is happening around it.2 In many of
the songs the various parts each have a different position in relation to the
drumbeat. This produces an illusion of independence whereas in fact each
is held in its place by the drumbeat. The control of the drumbeat over the
music is of course most blatant on those tracks where the downbeats of the
different parts are coordinated to coincide with the downbeat of the drums,
as is the case on Isisheli Sami (track 2) and We Baba Wami (track 8)
on Imbizo. The use of programmed drums thus not only reduces the independence of the various parts by determining the point of reference against
which they are to be understood (as the drum kit does in Phuzushukelas
later songs), but also destroys the flexibility and passion that come with
the human breath in musical performance. It is difficult to resist a rather
obvious analogy between the impact of programmed drums on maskanda
and the impact of apartheid on the lives of those it dominated. Apartheid
robbed its others of their individuality. It was a system that controlled
peoples lives through the roles and relationships that were assigned, rather
than chosen. It was also a system that refused to recognize the humanity of
its others (their liveness).
As is the case in Phuzushukelas later songs, in these songs the bass and the
chorus usually share a single musical idea that recurs in a predictable cyclical
pattern, and in most instances these two parts are aligned rhythmically with
the drums. The solo vocal part usually has one prominent melodic idea, but
may have a second that is often heard in conjunction with the chorus. The
violin or concertina parts are open to the widest amount of variation outside

Maskanda as Commodified Tradition|59

their central cyclical pattern, while the bass and the chorus have the least
amount of flexibility in the repetition of their parts. The solo vocal part also
tends to stay well within the parameters of its given cycle although there are
quite a few examples where it tentatively ventures beyond this cycle.
Not only are the rhythmic patterns that are used often the same throughout a whole song, but they are also often the same from one song to the
next. Likewise, a number of songs in this collection have the same or similar
melodic material. There is thus a significant increase in the uniformity of all
aspects of the musical language in these songs compared to those that were
released by Phuzushukela some ten years earlier.
Another important difference between Phuzushukelas later music and
Phuzekhemisis early music is found in the chorus section. In Phuzekhemisis
music the chorus is made up of male singers who present a very disciplined
and ordered arrangement of their parts, unlike the female chorus in Phuzushukelas music, which sings with a fair measure of flexibility in pitch and
which is not arranged so that singers with the same vocal range are grouped
together. In Phuzushukelas chorus singers with different vocal ranges intermingle; Phuzekhemisis chorus is organized more like a western choir. Phuzushukelas chorus is much closer to what would be experienced in traditional
community singing whereas Phuzekhemisis chorus is much closer to the formally structured choirs associated with missionary-educated musicians and
those performing in the popular genre of isicathamiya. The tonality of the
chorus parts in Phuzekhemisis music is more overtly diatonic. A single tonal
center or point of rest is often clearly identifiable, and there is a strong leaning
on primary triads arranged in a I-IV-V-I sequence. In fact most of Phuzekhemisis music is diatonic.
The use of male singers rather than female singers for the chorus also
has an important impact on the discourse on identity in Phuzekhemisis
music. It is through this male chorus that a very clear association with the
ingoma dance tradition is made, and it is through this association that the
musics status as Zulu tradition is affirmed and a more militant version of
maleness is constructed. Like maskanda (and isicathamiya) ingoma dance
is a performance practice that developed in response to the Zulu experience of labor migrancy. Furthermore, it is historically positioned as a performance practice that developed in the context of a political economy of
tribal animosity among migrant workers (Erlmann 1991, 102). Unlike other
expressions of labor migrancy that mark identity in a place of in-betweenness, ingoma marks identity in a very particular location, one that has clear
geographical boundaries expressed in terms of regionally defined identities
or even smaller units of affiliation called imihlati or iziqinti (Clegg 1982,
8). As Clegg (1982), explains in relation to the isishameni style of ingoma,

60|Chapter 3

ingoma was a response to intense competition for both work and tenure
on farms. The borders of the white-owned farms on which Zulu people
worked and lived often intersected with different groupings of homesteads
(imihlati), and it was thus often uncertain who would be given the right to
work on the farms in the region. This climate of intense competition over
the right to work spilled over into some of the social practices that were
naturally competitive in spirit and intention, like umgangela (stick fighting).
Violent transgressions of the rules of contestation laid out in stick fighting
rendered this practice too dangerous for the expression of regional challenges. It is against this background that ingoma developedit is the dance
alternative to stick fighting. As a consequence, many of the movements in
ingoma dance are symbolic of the action in stick fighting. Ingoma dance is
physically demanding and carries strong images of male strength and virility. It demonstrates a disciplined and fearless male identity, one that is commonly associated with Zulu warriors.
The image of the Zulu warrior is most frequently paired with King
Shaka, who is celebrated as the creator of the Zulu nation and who
was the hero of the ethnic nationalist movement. It was in the name of
Shaka that Zulu people were frequently summoned to allegiance to the
Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP), the self-proclaimed owners of the Zulu
ethnic nationalist movement. The selective recollection within the IFP
of Shakas military exploits and the idealization of these historical events
as markers of the founding moments of the Zulu nation (rather than the
markers of intense conf lict and turmoil) nurtured the idea that real Zulu
manliness was handed down to men at birth in the form of a warrior
identity. The ethnic nationalist movement had considerable currency in
the early 1990s when these songs were released, and although Phuzekhemisi is generally ambivalent about his own political loyalties, his music
was at this point strongly imbued with symbolic overtones that were
compatible with the IFPs political rhetoric. In the song Amamgama
Akho (Your words) a challenge is verbalized in the lyrics that claim
ownership of ingoma (and thus Zuluness) with the same kind of logic as
that which typically permeated Zulu ethnic nationalist sentiment. Here
Phuzekhemisi marks ingoma as an untouchable and empowering tradition that is inherited at birth. His language is not unlike that used by
Irene Buthelezi in a speech given in 1990 in Ulundi at a Mothers Day
celebration:3
We the mothers of this part of South Africa have in our inner beings, in our
deep wisdom and in our blood, the lessons that history has taught us. We are the
mothers of a great warrior nation. (Qtd. in Mar 1992, 68)

Maskanda as Commodified Tradition|61

Amamgama Akho (Your words), track 11 on Imbizo

Solo
Wokhuluma uwabalnsizwa amagama
Man you need to be careful of
akho
what you say
sinyabuye Mkhomazi
We are from Mkhomazi
Wenzani wathinto amaBhelamnyama
What are you doing demeaning and

defaming the chiefs subjects
Wenzani wathinto amangabase
What are you doing we are from
Mkhomazi
Mkhomazi
Wenzani wathinto amasibuye Mkhomazi
What are you doing we come from
Mkhomazi
Chorus
Thiningoma asiyithathi amachansi
We dont take any chances with
ingoma
Thiningoma eyakithi eMkhomazi
Ingoma comes from Mkhomaziit

is ours
Solo
Eyakithi eMkhomazi
Sayincela komama
Sayithola kobaba

It comes from Mkhomazi

Our mothers breast-fed it to us
Our fathers gave it to us

The claim that ingoma comes from Mkhomazi is also a claim on Zuluness,
a claim that reinforces the underlying tension that existed between groups of
Zulu people from different regions. This tension is enhanced physically in
the style of ingoma that Phuzekhemisi uses; his version of ingoma is a mixture of the isiKhuze and isiBhaca styles that come from the southern parts
of KwaZulu-Natal. Through the inclusion of these ingoma dance styles the
images of location and identity that are spoken about in the lyrics are brought
to life as they are enacted in performance. These dance routines have a particularly strong impact on the audience in live performance, as it is through
this physical display that they too are drawn into the feelings of invincibility
that the dancers enact.
It is clear that there is a strong correlation in the music on these two
albums between its discourse on identity and issues of empowerment, and
the sociopolitical environment of the early 1990s when it was released. Most
of the songs are heavy with stylistic prescription as there is little opportunity
to move beyond the rules and ideals laid out for every element of the music
(its form, its harmonies, rhythm, melodies, relationship between the parts,

62|Chapter 3

and so on). Any movement away from the maskanda template carried a risk of
abandoning the maskanda label, and the maskanda label was valued because
of its association with tradition. By playing maskanda, musicians were playing
traditional music, and through this action they were seen as proponents of
Zuluness. Furthermore, there was a place reserved in the market for Zuluness
and one that was used to feed both ethnic and racial division. Public perceptions of what was and what was not tradition were strongly influenced by
public rhetoric, and by peoples own imaginings about an idealized past when
Zulu people were free to live as Zulu people should!
This said, however, there are four tracks that do breech the general uniformity of these two albums, Cishe Safa (We nearly died) and Senzeni
(What have we done) (tracks 9 and 10) on Imbizo and Emapalamende (In
parliament) and Maye (Oh my) (tracks 1 and 12) on Emapalamende. Track
9 on Imbizo and the title track (1) on Emapalamende are different in that
both have strummed guitar accompaniment (a feature reminiscent of Phuzushukelas early music). Track 9 is also different from the other tracks in that
it has an unaccompanied section sung in vocables: shi hom. Through these
vocables the song is suspended while the vocal parts come together in an
expression of common purpose. Although shi hom has no specific meaning, these particular sounds and the way they are sung recall performance
in a traditional setting where common purpose in going about daily life was
frequently accompanied by song. This phrase sung in the same manner as it
is here is not uncommon in maskanda. It effectively brings the musical action
to a standstill and through the anticipation of the reentry of the main musical action appears to function as a way of accumulating energy, as a musical
recharging of the song. This function is evident in the audiences responses to
this section: they are suspended in anticipation during its performance, and
when it is finished, they usually erupt ululating and applauding.
Track 12 on Emapalamende is a different version of the song Maye (Oh
my), track 5 on the same album. The style of this version of the song is very
unusual for maskanda of this era; it draws heavily on the marabi and kwela
styles associated with township life in and around the 1950s. The pennywhistle, played by the producer of the album, West Nkosi, brings a level of energy
and life to the music that is absent in the other songs on this album, including the previous version of this same song. The pennywhistle part defies the
constraints imposed on the other parts. It has a liberated air of celebration
because its melodies have a wider range of pitches and because it moves in
dotted rhythms,4 which give lightness to its expression that contrasts with the
heaviness and at times drudgery felt in notes of even duration. It is music that
inspires dance, but it is not a rural dance style or ingoma that is called for here
but quite a different styleone that recalls a different moment, a different

Maskanda as Commodified Tradition|63

place, and a different set of aspirations and experiences, one that is in and of
the township. Unlike the vast majority of maskanda of this era, and unlike
most of the other songs on these two albums, tradition in this song is not
rooted in a rural setting, nor is it presented as being from a very distant past.
This is the much more recent tradition born of township experience. And, in
this track, a liveness that defies the regularity and prescription of the programmed drumbeat is infused in the music by the pennywhistle, capturing a
sense of a potential within this space to give freedom.

Lyrics
Maskanda at this time took shape as a very prescriptive area of musical expression, yet somewhat paradoxically its traditional status also gave it license to
speak about the life experiences and discontents of the rural poor. The lyrics of a number of the songs on these two albums offer some commentary
on the social world of the rural poor; in fact, it was the song Imbizo that
earned Phuzekhemisi the reputation as a spokesperson for rural communities. Imbizo, however, does not level criticism at the most oppressive sector of society, but at traditional leaders, that is, those who are the immediate
figures of authority in rural communities. Phuzekhemisi takes issue at a
pragmatic level, one that would be easily recognized by those for whom he
speaks, when he asks in the song Imbizo how poverty-stricken people can
be expected to pay endless taxes to the chief. As he says, I think people like
me because I sing about their lives and their daily experiences (interview on
DVD, Phuzekhemisi [the history of], 2006). Phuzekhemisi is lauded for giving
the disempowered a voice. He could also be seen as capitalizing on this act
since increased popularity translates into money in commercial music.
Although Phuzekhemisi criticizes the actions of traditional leaders, this
criticism is made without questioning the authority of traditional leaders, and
for many the song is in fact experienced as a celebration of traditional practice. Bearing in mind the intensity of political tension within the Zulu social
world in the early 1990s when the ANC and the IFP were competing for Zulu
loyalty, the songs on this album are quite subdued in relation to the matter
of accountability. They do not caste blame, but instead call for dialogue and
negotiation as in Hlanganani (Unite) or simply refer to the violence in a
resigned and matter-of-fact way as in Cishe safa (We almost died). While
there are clear references to the intensity of the conflict between ANC and
IFP followers in these two songs, Phuzekhemisi does not sing from a particular stancehis personal position is ambiguous.
The ambiguity of Phuzekhemisis position in these songs in relation to
the conflict between the IFP and ANC was perhaps not the consequence of

64|Chapter 3

his own choice. Daryl Hellbrunn, the sound engineer on both these albums,
recalls a considerable amount of debate between Phuzekhemisi and West
Nkosi about the content of the lyrics of the songs on Imbizo.
Phuzekhemisi was an IFP stalwart. West felt that he would not get his career off
the ground if he was too obviously IFP. The first day (of the recording) was all
about getting the lyrics right. They would argue about it. West was concerned
with record sales. (Hellbrunn, telephone conversation, Aug. 17, 2009)

Apparently West Nkosi sent Phuzekhemisi to rewrite the lyrics of a number of

songs because of the political controversy he felt they would arouse. His main
concern was with the commercial success of the music, not with its position
as a tool of social or political empowerment. He seems to have thought that if
the songs were too politically charged their chances of making money would
be jeopardized. The lyrics of the ten songs on Imbizo have both a personal
and a social dimension, and perhaps this was Phuzekhemisis way of diluting
his political position for public consumption. Amid those songs that suggest
anxious scenarios of abandonment and loss,5 mistrust and jealousy,6 and those
already discussed that deal with the clash between different Zulu factions,
there is one song about love, another about simply having a good time, and
yet another that pays homage to Bhodloza Nzimande.7 West Nkosi would
probably have approved of this last song as it could well have been expected to
boost Phuzekhemisis exposure on radio and television. Like Phuzushukela,
Phuzekhemisi also refers to Nzimande, but with rather a different tone, which
I assume indicates the developments in Nzimandes career as a broadcaster.
Phuzushukela tells Nzimande what he ought to be doing, whereas Phuzekhemisi pays homage to him.
The title track on the 1994 album Emapalamende is Phuzekhemisis first
song that criticizes the broader institution of government, signifying a shift in
perception regarding the relationship between the communities that Phuzekhemisi represents and the institution of national government. The participation of representatives of the people at this level of government invited a
new discourse on power relations and issues of accountability.
Emapalamende (In parliament)
Nixabana emaphalamende
sisuke singekho thina.
Nixabana emaphalamende
bese kujika kufa thina.
Nixabana emaphalamende
kujika kufa isizwe.

You fight in the parliament

when were not there
You fight in the parliament
and in turn we die
You fight in the parliament
and in turn the nation dies.

Maskanda as Commodified Tradition|65

Kukhona abadubula
There are some who are killing
abantu ezweni! the people of the nation!
Obani abadubula Who are these people who kill
abantu ezweni? the people of the nation?
Kulelizwe lobaba omkhulu In the land of our forefathers
sesabuswa izigebengu.
we are ruled by criminals.
Yini enenza ukuthi You are the ones who cause
singezwani emhlabeni!
us to fight in the world.
Izibongo:
Ayi sikhathele yiloludlame madoda
No men we are tired of this war
lubulala isalukaz
it is killing an old lady
lubulala ingane it is killing a baby
sekuhluleke ngisho uDe Klerk
even de Klerk has failed
namaphoyisakhe with his police men
ngisho amasosha
his soldiers
imsadafu uqobo
big ones

On this album (Emapalamende) the lyrics of the first five songs move systematically through different levels of angst. In each song the recipient of
the message occupies a different social position. In the first song (the title
track) the recipient is in a position that is farthest removed from the common man and is presented as being disconnected from the weight of life
on the ground. The lyrics in this song are indeed profoundly hard-hitting
words that ring out with the tragedy of the unresolved political conflicts
that tore families and communities apart, particularly in the late 1980s and
early 1990s.
The second song Inja Yami (My dog) has the same addressees as the song
Imbizo: traditional leaders. Here Phuzekhemisi complains about having to buy a
license for a dog. People were fed up with having to pay. One guy he just killed his
dog there in front of the chief (interview on DVD documentary, Phuzekhemisi
the best, 2008). While the headmen, or chiefs, were expected to implement this
law, it was not of their making, but rather a law that applied to all South Africans.
In the third song, Wehlobo Lwami (My kind), the addressee box is
empty, and this enhances the expression of alienation and fear that comes
from the precarious lack of a sense of home. Here Phuzekhemisi expresses the
misery that separation from family can cause.
In the fourth song the sense of alienation intensifies. With this song
another layer is added to the story of human experience that Phuekemisis
lyrics tell. Here a far more disturbing sense of alienation than that expressed
in the previous song is confronted, namely, the alienation that is brought
about when family trust is broken. Phuzekhemisi is speaking here of his own

66|Chapter 3

personal experience, and he addresses this song directly to his uncle, asking,
How can I trust a man who killed his own son?
Malume (Uncle)
Awu ngiyakusaba malume
Oh uncle I am scared of you
wemalume ngyakusaba
uncle I am scared of you
Ungabulalingane yakho
If you can kill your own child
awu wemalume unesibindi
Oh uncle you can do anything
Ngiyakusaba malume
I am scared of you uncle
ngiyakusaba I am scared of you
mntanomntanami Child of my child
Izibongo:
Awu ngiyihlaba kwesika JB I am playing it like JB
UmfokaNgubane son of Ngubane
Yazi ke besazolanda ama-leza awu 13
Ill go get thirteen razor blades
Ngibone ukuthi and I will see
ayizuphela yini lentshebe yakho
if I wont be able to get rid of

your beard

The next song, track 5, about Phuzekhemisis experience of the death of his
own young child, is also deeply personal.
Maye (Oh my!)
Maye we ma...
Yakhula kalukhuni kulomuzi
Yakhula kalukhuni ingane yami
Yakhula yangishiya emhlabeni
Ukube yayisindala
ngabe yangitshela ukuth
baba kubhlungu la!
Manje yayisencane

In that house...
my child grew up in hardship
My child grew up in hardship
My child grew up and died
The thing is, my child was young
if she was older she would have told me
Daddy it hurts here!
But she was just young

In both these songs (tracks 4 and 5) the story of the events and issues referenced is not fully explained. When listeners do not know the stories behind
Phuzekhemisis songs, they must inevitably interpret his songs according to
their own experiences. Even though the ambiguity in relation to details of the
events and feelings expressed in his songs allows for variation of interpretation, there is sufficient information given in these two songs to make it clear
that each tells a story of an unsafe, dysfunctional intimate family environment, one that does not offer protection or care to young children. Unlike
Phuzushukelas early songs where ambiguity in the lyrics suggested that they

Maskanda as Commodified Tradition|67

were intended for a very particular audience, here the ambiguity speaks essentially of helplessness.
For the rest of the album the lyrics are less anxious; once again there is
a song paying homage to Bhodloza Nzimande, a song celebrating success,
a song of love, and a song marking home territory, issuing a challenge and
overtly performing a position of power and strength. There are two songs that,
like Phuzushukelas early songs, assume that the recipients of the music would
be in a position to contextualize the lyrics.

Phuzekhemisis Music and Ethnic Nationalism

Phuzekhemisis music is imbued with two important referents that are powerful protagonists in the construction of Zulu identityingoma dance and
izibongo. The more prominent of these two is ingoma dance, and it is this
emphasis that produces a very immediate and unambiguous representation of
the warrior as the epitome of Zulu masculinity. Zulu ethnic nationalist constructions of this warrior version of masculinity as an inherited identity were
used to create a sense of obligation and duty to tradition that was assimilated
with the political aspirations and hierarchies of power within the IFP.
The prescription of a tradition that carried such a duty translated also
into a prescription of what it was that constituted tradition. Herein lies a deep
irony: while this tradition was represented as a wholly Zulu practice, it was
also entangled with the process of commoditization, a process that offered an
advantage to the IFP. The commoditization of maskanda meant that a very
particular set of practices and relationships could be fed to the public as tradition. The features of maskanda that were obvious evidence of its embeddedness as much in the present as in the past, such as the instrumentation and
its band format, allowed it to be mobilized as tradition. The representation
of the warrior as the essence of Zulu masculinity also gave justification to the
apartheid policy of separate developmentafter all, warriors could not be let
loose on civilized society! The violence and disjuncture within the homeland
environment were attributed to a fundamental barbarism that could never be
expected to be reconciled with the ordering of political and social features of
a western capitalist economy, and the Christian ethos that held sway within
a city environment. Phuzekhemisis musical discourse on Zuluness on these
two recordings is firmly contained within these parameters. This music took
its place in the performance arena of the 1990s as traditional Zulu music, and
for this reason it was most often assumed that Phuzekhemisi was firmly affiliated with the IFP.8 While this traditional affiliation was seen or thought of as a
mark of difference, a source of empowerment, a realness that could compensate for all that was lost in interactions with an overwhelmingly domineering

68|Chapter 3

white society, it was also a form of entrapment most particularly because of

the fact that it had become identified with one political party.
In Phuzushukelas early recordings maskanda is seen to be a relatively
fluid and unformed performance practice that could accommodate individually motivated expressive strategies. While the performance practice was
securely positioned as Zulu practice and strongly held within the parameters
of Zulu aesthetics and social ideals, it was nevertheless able to accommodate
individual idiosyncrasies and musical experimentation. Here the performance practice takes its place quite naturally as a reworking of those performance practices that were available within Zulu experience. In its early
years maskanda thus took on the ordinary role of tradition as process where
new material is accommodated but old principles are not breeched. At this
point the most prominent features of musical discourse (rhythm, melody, harmony, structure, and texture) have precedence in other performance practices
well established as Zulu tradition. The location implicit in these songs is thus
clearly expressed as the traditional rural homestead.
In contrast to his early recordings, Phuzushukelas last two albums reveal
the impact of commercialization in the standardization of many of the features of the music, and in the more public position that is taken in the lyrics.
When viewed in the context of the political economy of this period (1980s)
and in relation to the power dynamics of different areas of South African
society, the musical discourse here emerges as inherently paradoxical. The
issues of race and more particularly white domination are noticeably absent
from these songs. The process of commercialization is motivated by the desire
to make commodities profitable. This fundamental directive of commercialization produces a focus on society as a potential market rather than from a
sociological, moral, or even humanistic perspective. During apartheid, commercialization can be seen as a perpetuating force behind apartheid ideologyin effect it accentuated the grip of the apartheid government on power
and its discourse on Zulu identity. Thus while the offer of participation in
the market that came with the place that had been made for Zulu music as
a target category was a welcome opportunity for those musicians who found
themselves suitably positioned to move into this space, it was also a way of taking control of the discourse that was being made in and through performance
practice. At this point maskanda is strongly embedded in the Zulu domain.
Despite the reconstruction of maskanda to include sounds, styles, forms, and
instruments with associations beyond this Zulu domain, it still carries significant symbolic weight as Zulu music. Homethe locationhas shifted
from where it was in the previous stage. Here home is still marked as the
rural homestead, but this location is intercepted and distanced by images of
urban life. The adjustments that were made to the genre fed into the broader

Maskanda as Commodified Tradition|69

strategies of othering that kept South Africans of different ethnic backgrounds apart and set maskanda up for the next stage in its development,
reflected in the early recordings of Phuzekhemisi where maskanda clearly
has well-defined parameters that are not easily transcended as is evidenced in
the overwhelming uniformity of these songs. These songs are heavily imbued
with the same version of Zuluness as that which was publicly paraded in
ethnic nationalist circles. There is a formulaic approach to the music and
a strong emphasis on ingoma dance rhythms to give obvious definition both
to regional differences within the genre and warrior images in a broader discourse of differentiation. The music is predictable, the texture is thinned
out, and an overriding articulated rhythmic pattern assures the conformity
of the different parts to an easily identifiable pattern. In most of the songs the
harmonic ambiguity that comes with bi-tonality has been replaced with the
hierarchy of the diatonic system. The irony emerging in Phuzushukelas last
two albums is realized in Phuzekhemisis early recordings: the space that had
been made to give recognition and value to Zulu tradition, identity, and ideals was a space that was heavily controlled by the market and thus in turn by
those who had the most power. The signifiers of tradition take on a contrived
and self-consciously prescriptive role that in retrospect can be recognized as
the tool (and the burden) of the apartheid regime. Here maskanda is trapped
in a discourse that inhibits the breath of creativity and severely limits the
agency of its proponents. In this third stage the rural homestead is even more
distant than in the second stage, yet it is in many ways more adamantly and
consciously claimed as the place of authentic Zuluness.

|4
Men Making Maskanda
in Post-apartheid South Africa

n April 26, 2007, the Mail and Guardian ran a story that began as
follows: The ANCs stormy Winnie Madikizela-Mandela infuriated
the rural women who protested outside the World Congress of Rural
Women in Durban this week by telling them not to behave like the MDC in
Zimbabwe. According to the report, six hundred women representing fourteen different organizations gathered outside the congress venue to protest
their exclusion. Arriving at the congress celebrity style, in an S-class Mercedez Benz, accompanied by an entourage of bodyguards, and wearing symbolically Africanist designer clothing, Madikizela-Mandela was confronted
with songs, ululations, and placards of protest. Indeed these womens songs
must have struck a chord in her memory, as they are reminiscent of her own
calls of amandla ngawethu (power is ours) as an anti-apartheid activist. Her
first response was to accuse the protestors of servicing the interest of their
colonial masters and to chastise the women for embarrassing the South
African government. But later a meeting was arranged inside the conference
hall between nine provincial leaders from the demonstrators and MadikizelaMandela and various cabinet ministers. This however did not satisfy a protest
leader from the Western Cape, Fatima Shabodien, who is reported to have
said, It was extremely patronizing. If we took a minister on, we were told to
show respect. This is our government, but we were told if we were truly rural
women, we would know to respect our elders.
The story given in this report is interwoven with a number of issues that
are relevant to the way transformation is understood and experienced in South

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 71

Africa today. It is heavily underwritten with a subtext on power and resistance.

Through allusion and association, it constructs a discourse on democracy that
at once decries and reflects substantial transformation in South Africa. The
mobilization of a racialized view of the world through reference to colonial
masters bespeaks the underlying racial tensions in debates on transformation
and change. A racialized perception of the world initiated by the social hierarchies of colonialism and deeply engraved in South African society by the
apartheid regime cannot simply be eradicated through gestures of goodwill
and the fantasies of ubuntu and the rainbow nation. The liberation movements success in dismantling apartheid was widely read as a triumph over
racial prejudice. That the new democracy has conquered white dominance
in the political arena is clearly evident. Who then, we may ask, are these
colonial masters that Madikizela-Mandela is referring to? It is not without
some measure of irony that her emotive recollection of the past alludes to an
underlying and festering dimension of transformation in South Africa today,
for while all South Africans now have the right to vote, many are radically
prejudiced by the inaccessibility of the economy to those without skills or
education, like these rural womenthe agency afforded by the right to vote is
radically diluted by their economic marginalization. Indeed many ask, How
has this right to vote improved my life? This complex and delicate issue is
exacerbated by South Africas history of racially determined social injustice
and presents as a significant ideological challenge to the transformation
process. Escalating disparities between the rich and the poor challenge the
emerging black elite to revisit the promises embedded in liberation ideology
that offered the poor and the marginalized the hope of a better life.
There is clearly a broad gap between the economic position of MadikizelaMandela and rural women. Her troubles and sacrifices as a key player in the
liberation struggle have been rewarded. Although she resigned from the ANC
Womens League in 2003 as a consequence of her conviction for fraud, her
popularity in the organization was evidenced when she was elected to the
ANCs National Executive at Polokwane on December 16, 2007. Although
there are differences of opinion on her legal right to be a member of parliament, she has been announced as the fifth most popular candidate for such
a position.
South Africas history weighs heavily on the present, not only because the
agonies of social disjuncture caused by labor migrancy are still part of many
peoples lived experience, but also because its imagery is irresistible to politicians and power brokers in the new South Africa. The historical colonial
master may be read as an ideology or as a human presence; either way it
restores the images of racial oppression that characterize South Africas history. Muddled into the transformation message here (and elsewhere) are

72|Chapter 4

uneven and disparate references to and appropriations of the past. Singing

as protest has historically been used to champion the liberation ideals of the
marginalized in South Africa. What these rural women sing against here is an
autocratic notion of institutionalized authority that is derived from a patriarchal
template of rule by decree rather than through common cause and negotiation.
Madikizela-Mandelas passing reference to the Movement for Democratic
Change (MDC) in Zimbabwe not only shows blatant disrespect for the MDC
in Zimbabwe and rural women in South Africa, but also assumes that a leader
who came to power in a government as a result of the success of a liberation movement is untouchable. On this logic one may well ask if it is indeed
possible for liberation governments to operate democratically. MadikizelaMandelas response suggests a democracy that gives the right to vote but that
inhibits the right to speak any words of dissent.

n the four sections that follow, different perspectives on contemporary maskanda are explored from the point of view of four musicians: Shiyani Ngcobo,
Phuzekhemisi, iHashiElimhlophe, and Shwi Nomtekhala. Before 1994, and
even for some time after, maskanda carried strong allusions to a particular
version of Zulu identity. Ownership was uncontested. It was claimed as Zulu
music and contained within strongly asserted prescriptions of what it meant to
be Zulu. These prescriptions of identity translated into prescriptions of style.
In post-apartheid South Africa the constraints of apartheid are eroding. While
maskanda operates successfully as an umbrella term for all four musicians,
each one engages with the genre differently. The four musicians represent
different points on the spectrum of contemporary maskanda performance;
hence, their music offers a range of responses to the changing environment of
post-apartheid South Africa. Their performance style and their sound offer a
nuanced and layered discourse on their own identities, experiences, histories,
ideologies, and musical sensibilities. Each musician positions himself differently in relation to maskandas history and its industry label as traditional
Zulu music; each one also tells a story of lived experience in their music.
The discourse of each musician is seen as a constitutive part of the whole
maskanda domain rather than as a representative of the whole (Clifford 1986).
My concern is not with authenticity in itself but rather with how authenticity
is perceived. I have focused on musicians who are clearly different from one
another in order to give some sense of the range of performance styles that
the maskanda umbrella covers, and by working from the assumption that
an ontological shift is the automatic consequence of a shift in the relationship between the observer and the observed (iek 2006), the intention is not
only to explore the discourse of musicians who express themselves differently
but also to purposefully position myself differently in relation to each. The

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 73

primary resources are CD or DVD recordings of the four artists music, and
the primary concern is with representations of change in the actual music,
rather than what they say about it. In defiance of some traditional ethnomusicological methodology I regard fieldwork not as a pitch your tent and live
like the natives for a decent amount of time kind of experience but rather
as a self-conscious engagement with a text that I have chosen to frame for
analysis and that is contextualized through the different kinds of information collected through different research techniques. At the one extreme the
context is made through personal interaction with the details of the everyday
life of the musician who composes the text (Shiyani Ngcobo) and at the other
extreme the context is made through the collection and consideration of information about the musician(s) that is available in the public domain, namely,
the Internet, press, and publicly accessible interviews that are included on the
DVD releases of their music (Shwi Nomtekhala).

Shiyani Ngcobo
Shiyani Ngcobo was for me a friend, colleague, a research assistant, and the
subject of my research. He died on February 18, 2011. I knew Shiyani for
nearly twelve years, having met him first while I was doing research for my
MA thesis. Over this time we shared many troubles and triumphs. I shared
lunch with Shiyani nearly every week when he came to the University of KwaZulu-Natal to teach students maskanda guitar. I cared about Shiyani and still
care about his family. He was an important part of my life. I miss him. The
quotes presented in what follows are extracts from many informal conversations and formal interviews that took place over the four years preceding his
death.
Shiyani Ngcobos story is the story of many South Africans. Born in the
early 1950s, Shiyani grew up in the rural area of Umzinto,1 designated then
as part of the Zulu homeland. Like many of his generation, his life was a perpetual struggle with poverty, exploitation, and exclusion.
South Africans are very familiar with group designations; these designations
have after all shaped the course of every persons destiny in important and quite
fundamental ways. They have determined where people live, what work they do,
and what social responsibilities they carry. In the South African context these
group designations have resulted in a huge disparity between the standards and
expectations that different people have for their lives. Although the apartheid
regime put forward a policy of separate but equal, different groups had very
different rights and opportunities; in fact, it was a policy better described as
divide and dominate. The home-space allocated to different black South
Africans on the basis of their ethnicity most often offered nothing more than an

74|Chapter 4

imagined ideal of pastoral security. Trading on notions of heritage and tradition

the apartheid regime also institutionalized a system that excluded black people
from participating in the economy as their white compatriots did.
Belonging is defined as having the right personal or social qualities to
be a member of a particular group.2 In apartheid South Africa these personal
or social qualities were formally determined firstly by race, then by ethnicity,
and finally by gender. While the notion of belonging is generally assumed to
imply some measure of comfort and security, it can often operate in quite the
opposite way particularly where it is assigned externally rather than assumed
internally. For many black South Africans belonging was often wracked with
conflict and anxiety because the home-spaces to which they were assigned
had been rendered dysfunctional primarily as a result of labor migrancy. Shiyani Ngcobos life story epitomizes these circumstances. Rooted as they are
in personal experience, his songs are telling revelations of the far-reaching
impact of a long legacy of social disjuncture brought about by rampant exploitation of black (and in this instance Zulu) men and women as units of labor.
Shiyani was born into a situation of insecurity and suspicion. His name
means leave him alone. As a result of the death of a number of their children, his parents believed that they had been cursed by their neighbors, that
umtagathi (witchcraft) had been used to bring them pain. Through his name,
Shiyanis parents appealed to their neighbors not to harm their child. In fact
so deep were the feelings of fear and suspicion that they sent Shiyani away
to live with relatives for most of his early years. He recalls this time as one of
intense longing for his mother, exacerbated by harsh treatment from those
who were supposed to be caring for him. Shiyani spent his early childhood
cowering on the fringes of a family that was not his own. When he did finally
return home (at about the age of seven) his anxious state of existence did not
disappear. While he had been away, his father had taken two more wives but
did not have the means to support them. Shiyanis mother was the first wife,
and she now suffered severe abuse and neglect. When he was ten years old,
Shiyani could not bear his mothers situation of deprivation any longer and
left to join the work force. Finding a job on a sugar plantation, he earned
thirteen cents a day. Working six days a week, he managed to return home
after his first month with three rand! He remembered proudly offering this
to his mother: She told me, You are now a man. You have money in your
pocket. This was a Saturday evening. By Sunday his mother had left the
home. His father had tied his mother up and beaten her, and he had taken the
money Shiyani had given to her. Shiyanis mother never returned home, and
he never saw her again. Devastated by this event, Shiyani too left his home.
It was only some years later, on the insistence of a close friend, that Shiyani
returned to see his father.

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 75

My friend took me to his home nearly every weekend. From his home I could
see my home over there on the hill. One day my friend said, You must go and
see your father, I will come with you. He saw my pain. We went and my father
said, Why have you been gone so long? What could I say? He is my father. I
am here now. That is all.

Shiyani did not make his home as a married man in Umzinto. He lived in
KwaMakhutu, an area south of Durban between Isipingo and Amamzimtoti
with his wife, Gertrude, his daughter, Khanysile, and two grandchildren. His
life there was not comfortable physically or emotionally. This is also a poor
and unstable community prone to jealousy and suspicion. It is without basic
amenities (water, electricity, sewage disposal, and storm-water drainage) and
is particularly vulnerable to the ravages of heavy rain. Homes are assembled
close together in this hilly region; many have graves in their front yard. When
it rains, the wash off the hillside collects in the valleys where children play.
Initially I spent some time at Shiyanis home visiting his family, learning about him, his lifestyle, and of course his music. I was never particularly
perturbed by the blank, unresponsive stares of his neighbors. But this was
to change. A photo shoot of Shiyani and the musicians featured on the CD
Introducing Shiyani Ngcobo in 2004 at his home had repercussions that I
never imagined, nor knew of until quite some time later when Shiyani spoke
to me about the threats to his life and the lives of his grandchildren that had
been made by his neighbors. They had begun to see him as an outsider; they
were not sure what he was up to. Whispers of an overseas trip and an internationally released recording produced intense jealousy. The fact that there was
little evidence of the expected rewards of such adventures (because indeed
there were few) produced deep suspicion. Shiyani began to live as an alienated insider. He existed in this community physically, but was outside it emotionally as he and his family did not enjoy the bonds of trust that accompany
commonality and that bind people together. Maskanda ironically fractured
Shiyanis relationship with this community. I stopped visiting Shiyani at his
home for fear that as a white woman my presence would exacerbate the tension between him and his neighbors. I only returned much later when he was
seriously ill.
The insecurity that Shiyani and his family felt living in KwaMakhutu and
the death of his father sparked ideas of building a home in Umzinto. To do
this, however, they needed more money than Shiyani had, for not only would
he have had to pay for the land and building materials, but he would also have
been expected to offer the chief suitable gifts (money, alcohol, and livestock).
Shiyani learned to play the guitar from his older brother, Khetuwise. The
first song he learned was one composed by Khetuwise in the early 1960s.3 His

76|Chapter 4

first guitar was an igogogo, a guitar made from a tin five-liter oil container.
Shiyani prized the igogogo and, as far as I know, is the only maskanda musician who played this instrument in a concert setting.4 This instrument has
a particularly percussive sound as the strings are less resonant than those of
the standard guitar; for this reason, it captures a musical aesthetic of another
time: a time when young unmarried women sang songs of loss and longing to
the accompaniment of the umakhweyana or ughubu bow. At the same time,
the igogogo represents marginalization, as it was devised as a product of necessity. It was and still is most often regarded as a poor mans version of a guitar rather than an instrument in its own right. Like many other maskanda
musicians, Shiyanis first standard guitar was a Bellini, a guitar manufactured
cheaply and specifically for migrant laborers working in and around the cities
of South Africa. Khetuwise brought one home for Shiyani once he had shown
his talent on the igogogo.
Shiyanis hopes of having a productive career as a maskanda musician
were initiated by his success in a competition sponsored by iJuba,5 which
was held at what was then the University of Natal.6 The first time he entered
this competition, in 1988, he placed second; the following year he won and
received a cash prize of about one thousand rand. His remarkable technique
had captured the attention of Nollene Davies,7 who was at that time studying
for a masters degree in music at the University of Natal.
Bongani Mthethwa told me that there was this white student who wanted lessons with me.8 That was Nollene. When she went to teach at the University of
Durban-Westville, I went with her to teach students there; I have been teaching
university students ever since.9

Nollene Davies recorded some of Shiyanis music of this time, and David
Marks made the live recordings of his performances at the Plaza Hotel in
Durban and at Guitars for Africa.10
When I met Shiyani in 1997 negotiations were underway for his first commercial recording. David Marks was involved in negotiating a contract with
MELT2000.11 However, a recording never materialized. It was not until 2004
that Shiyanis first commercial recording, Introducing Shiyani Ngcobo, was
released by World Music Network.12 As a result of this recording, Shiyanis
music achieved international acknowledgment; his recognition among the
connoisseurs of world music was considerable. His overseas live performances were highly acclaimed in the reviews of some of the top world music
critics, such as Banning Eyre and Charlie Gillett; he was written about in
some of the most widely distributed world music publications, such as FRoots
Magazine, and he performed at Carnegie Hallthis concert was celebrated

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 77

in a review in the New York Times. However, this recording did very little to
change Shiyanis everyday living circumstances in any significant way, and it
is deeply ironic that he was afforded very little status in the local maskanda
scene. His music had (and still has) more coverage on the Internet than any
other maskanda artist, but he was seldom included in local music events. The
gatekeepers of local performance sidelined Shiyani Ngcobo. One events organizer put this down to the fact that he was not signed to a local record company.13 Shiyani barely survived on the money he earned from the odd small
gig (most often organized around some event at the University of KwaZulu
Natal),14 teaching maskanda guitar to students in the African Music and
Dance program,15 or in a community development program called UKUSA.16
Shiyani Ngcobo did not give primacy to Zuluness in his conceptualization
of his personal identity. While, to be sure, the way he made sense of his life is
rooted in the practices and ideologies that are part of Zulu culture, he did not
acknowledge any prescription of practice on account of his Zuluness. This is
evident in the way he talked about his music.
My music is my music. Sure you can say it is Zulu music because I am a Zulu
man and I speak Zulu. I am not making Zulu music. I make Shiyanis music.

He saw his Zuluness as a fait accompli of his identity, one that was given
to him by virtue of his birth. He also recognized that much of his experience was the consequence of an imposed marginalization on account of his
race and ethnicity, yet he resisted seeing his race and ethnicity as definitive
features of his own being. Through his claim to individuality he defied any
imposition of identity in these terms. His response was that of an outsider,
and as an outsider he was deeply suspicious of people in positions of power
no matter what their race or ethnicity and extremely wary of institutions of
power be they government institutions or institutions of commerce, such as
the music industry and finance such as banks. Shiyanis perceptions of his
identity were marked by the dialectic of belonging and alienation, one that
produces an identity that exists in between firmly constituted tagged and
labeled social positions. He played out this dialectic in his performance style
by contextualizing the sentiments of disjuncture and displacement expressed
in his lyrics within a complex but coherent musical language that he communicated skillfully through his own ability as a performer.

78|Chapter 4

The Music
Wayithathaphi? Where did you get it?
Bayangibuza bonkabantu Everyone asks me
Everywhere I go they ask me
Bayangibuza lonkilizwe langihamba khona
All maskanda artists ask me
Bayangibuza bonkoMaskandi
About this style of the
Ngalengoma yakithi kwaNgcobo.
Ngcobo clan
WeShiyani wayithathaphi lengom
Shiyani where did you
iyasehlula?
learn such a difficult
style?
WeShiyani wayithathaphi lengom iyadida?
Shiyani where did you

learn such a tricky style?

Shiyani Ngcobos style of maskanda correlates with his personality, his life
experiences, and his value system. He was an intense individualist who knew
how he wanted to express himself musically, whose life was one of perpetual
displacement, and who was not easily swayed by trends that may have brought
other maskanda musicians success in the market place. His musical style is
peculiarly his own; it marks in-betweenness as a permanent state of being and
does not labor under the expectations of the market.
My music is like a dream. I dont know where it comes from. I dont really listen
to other peoples music. Sure I hear it on the radio or in the taxi and sometimes
I use ideas that come from what I hear; but I dont try to be like someone else.
(Personal interview, February 24, 2009)

Shiyani was essentially a solo artist; nevertheless, he presented his music in

three different permutations: in solo performance, as a duo of bass and acoustic
guitar with some harmonized vocal sections, and in a group where a female
vocalist, concertina, violin, Zulu ngoma drum, and jembe may be added in
varying combinations. He had a firm opinion on every aspect of each song
and was consequently quite meticulous about how and what accompanying
musicians played. In fact he had the reputation of being difficult to work with.
While the motivation for a group permutation of his music always came from
the industry rather than from Shiyani, this compromise alters the sonic depth
and texture of his music but not its fundamental aesthetic. His performance as
a duo came out of his particularly close friendship with Aaron Meyiwa.17
The most striking difference between Shiyanis music and other maskanda
can be attributed to his aversion to the use of a western drum kit. He associated
the drum kit with an oversimplification of the rhythmic texture that he expected

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 79

from maskanda. For Shiyani, the marked articulation of regular and relentless
downbeats that is heard in much commercial maskanda was a breech of his aesthetic ideals, which are revealed in the fact that it is often difficult to pin the
rhythm of Shiyanis music down to a single rhythmic beat throughout a song.
You know that I have that big drum at home.18 Many people have tried to play it
with my music, and so often they say, Eish, it is hard to find the beat! Me too,
sometimes I cant feel the beat the same all through a song. (Personal interview,
February 24, 2009)

The downbeats in Shiyanis music are most often not clearly articulated.
This may be seen as a consequence either of the absence of any percussion
altogether, or because the percussion, like the bass, takes a linear role in the
music, weaving around the guitar part rather than marking the pulse.
Whatever the instrumentation of a song, the guitar is always central
to Shiyanis music. His guitar parts are densely textured with a number of
melodic ideas featuring simultaneously. Dominant vocal melodies may operate as independent melodic statements that are not reiterated by the guitar,
for example, uMendo (2004). In this song the difference between the guitar
part and the vocals is exaggerated by the prominence and catchiness of the
guitars opening melody. This song stands in contradiction to a statement that
Shiyani made that is documented in Nollene Daviess thesis. The strings
must say what the voice is saying (qtd. in Davies 1992, 62). His more recent
music does not follow this principle as a must; in fact, in many instances it
deviates quite obviously from this directive.
Shiyanis music tends to be layered both rhythmically and melodically.
Often songs are made up of a number of parts that each operate with an
unusual amount of autonomy; neither the rhythmic patterns nor the melodic
ideas are dominated or controlled by any single coordinating voice. This
autonomy is enhanced by the relationship between the bass guitar parts and
Shiyanis guitar parts. This is an important feature of much of his music.
Aaron Meyiwa played a crucial role in this regard.
Aaron was my pupil; I taught him to play maskanda guitar. He learnt that first
before he started playing the bass with me. (Personal interview, February 24, 2009)

Aaron Meyiwa played the bass like a maskanda guitarist. His plectrum moved
at such a pace that the notes bounced off the strings in rapid alternation. His
bass carried melodies that produced significant and quite obvious melodic
counterparts to Shiyanis melodies. Aaron was a man of few words but not of
few notes; he brought yet another layer to Shiyanis music. Aarons death in

80|Chapter 4

May 2008 left a void in Shiyanis music that was never filled. Shiyani felt this
as a deep loss. It is not easy to find another guy like Aaron, he said (ibid.).
The texture of Shiyanis music is further enhanced by his use of different
vocal registers and timbres. He often used three different pitch levels at different points in one song.
I usually begin with a high voice; thats where there the feeling is strong and I
want to get people to listen to what I am saying. Then next time I come with
a lower voice and then I end with lower again. I dont do this all the time it
depends on the song. (Ibid.)

This use of different voices is a peculiar feature of Shiyanis music that adds
to the textural complexity of his style. It also has a marked effect on his musical discourse on identity since each pitch level encompasses a different
range of notes and a different character and attitude, and in this way Shiyani
presents different position-takings.19 Whereas the use of a single pitch-range
and vocal timbre throughout a song produces a single position, the use of a
number of registers and vocal timbres suggests more than one perspective,
and similarly the use of the same vocal range and timbre throughout a song
settles identity as a unified and singular entity, whereas the use of a number
of different ranges and timbres suggests a multifaceted or even fragmented
identity. By using different voices, Shiyani registers his experience of inbetweenness. The instability of his circumstances calls for many adaptations
of his identity to different contexts and experiences.
For most of his music, Shiyani tuned the highest E string down a tone to
D. This is a common practice in a lot of maskanda, particularly that which is
connected to southern KwaZulu-Natal. At times he used a capotaso attached
on the first fret to change the starting pitch of each note.
Many primary melodies in maskanda have a predictable melodic contour
that begins with a short rising movement followed by a longer pattern that is
clearly unidirectional in its descent. The main melodies in Shiyanis music
tend to be shaped in this way too, but there are songs with melodies that have
a varied contour even though they might end on a note that is lower than the
one on which they began.
The izibongo sections in Shiyanis songs are not always presented in the
same way; the pace of the vocal delivery varies as does his tone and the message. In some instances the izibongo serves as an opportunity to introduce the
other musicians, for example, uDadewethu (Sisters);20 in others it serves as
a statement of either real or imagined features of his identity or experience.
At times he used the izibongo as an opportunity to voice personal conflicts,
as in the recorded version of Wayithathaphi where he refers to a concertina

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 81

player with whom he had had an altercation concerning the recording. In

keeping with his style generally, Shiyanis style of presenting his izibongo is
not showy or overtly dramatic. Izibongo praise poetry is most often associated
with a confident, proud assertion of belonging that is often presented in a way
that is confrontational, or at least very flamboyant. Shiyanis izibongo does
not sound like this. While it is firm and competent, it is often much more
elusive in its performance of identity. Where the words that are spoken are
boastful and challenging, the challenge is always significantly tempered by
the way these words are performed. In some versions of his izibongo he refers
to himself as a rabbit that cannot be trapped or pinned down. This stands
in stark contrast to the general trend in maskanda where performers assert
a powerful or fearsome identity through the use of metaphors that give their
identity characteristics of an animal that is powerful and dangerous, such as a
mamba or rhinoceros (Phuzekhemisi). As a result of his virtuosity and musical prowess, Shiyanis izibongo is a serious and sincere assertion of his status
as a maskanda musician. Even though his lineage is spoken, its presentation
serves as a claim to a position of belonging to the domain of maskanda rather
than one that proudly celebrates his connection to his forefathers, his chief or
his place of birth, for in real life his forefathers and his heritage had offered
little in the way of security. As his life story shows, the place of his birth was
not a secure home-space.
Shiyanis music stands apart from much other maskanda; perhaps this is
because he did not compose with any particular audience in mind, or with
any strategizing as to what could generate money. Even in a duo or group
format, Shiyanis music remains in essence a solo performance style. He
hung onto the ideal of solo performance as an expression of individuality.
His music gives precedence and value to individual experience. Shiyani
never experienced community life as one of protection or safety; he had to be
independently resourceful in order to survive. It is thus not surprising that he
valued individuality so strongly and that the ideals of autonomy influenced
his aesthetic sensibility when he was making music. His is gentle but intense
music. Although its context is different, it carries the same characteristic of
longing (ukubalisa) that Rosemary Joseph recognizes in Zulu womens bow
music.21 In its contemporary context it stands in defiance of the stereotypes
that suggest there is uniformity in Zuluness and that overshadow any claim
to individuality.

82|Chapter 4

The Lyrics
Shiyanis lyrics are deeply rooted in actual experience. The events of his own
life and the issues that he grappled with are clearly recognizable in the lyrics
of most of his songs.
Below (numbered according to track number) is Shiyanis short explanation of ten of the tracks on the album Introducing Shiyani Ngcobo.
1. Yeganini (Let it go): This is the story of a young man who paid a
lot of money over a long period for a girlfriend who lived far from
his place, and then after all that she decided she no longer loves
him. He cries for his lost love saying, After all that paying I am
left with nothing.
2. Izangoma (Traditional healer): This song is about a search for
healing. I have tried the doctors and other peoples medicine
(white), but it did not help; I have tried the izangoma to get healing, but it did not work either. They are not good; they just want
you to slaughter (a goat or even a cow). Then I tried the Zion; he
just took some water and prayed to God. Now the illness is much
better. This song says, Kungcono iZion kungcono abatandaziit is
much better the Zion; I like it much better.
3. uDadewethu (Sisters): Here I am talking to my sisters; not
exactly my sisters but to women, warning them against having
too many boyfriends at one time because there is trouble now
with AIDS.
4. Senzeni? (What is going on?): Here I ask, What is going on? I
am crying here about my wifes long illness. She has been sick for
so long I wonder if maybe someone is trying to make her die.
7. Izinyembezi (Tears): This song says, uMuntu ubulala aBantu
(that man who is killing people), unamalini ibanki (how much
money do you have in your bank). Many people are crying because you are killing for money, but how much do you have in the
bank; you are seen to be a poor man because God has taken your
luck. My message here is to those criminals who bring pain to a lot
of people that God will punish you.
9. Ngeke Lithuthuke (It is not going up): This song says: Remember before that the president was always white; now the president
is black, but still black people are too much jealous; now there is
a chance to talk it out. Since we have voted, we should be able to
talk it out to make things better.
10. Ngisizeni (Help me): It is hard for me to push my life forward. I

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 83

need money and transport to support my family; this song speaks

about that.
11. Isithembu (Polygamy): This song tells the story of a man with
two or three wives and how he beats the first wife because now he
has new wives; the first wife then thinks, I must go from here, otherwise I will die. This song comes from my own lifeit is about
my own family. That is why I say polygamy is bad. A man has one
head and one heart; he cannot love two women at the same time;
it only brings lies and trouble.
12. Akwehlanga (Fate): This song is about the pain of death. It says if
your neighbor dies, those people cry; I am not from there, but I cry
for you, but everyone will die so you should not cry.
13. Isithothobala (The introvert): This is about a person who lives in
his own world, who is slow, and who doesnt show what he is feeling or thinking, like Aaron. It tells him everything is changing.
It is evident that poverty, illness, religious belief systems, suspicion, crime
and violence, and love and marriage are the themes of Shiyanis songs on this
album.22 Poverty was the deepest trap in Shiyanis life. He was one of many
whose life could not be changed through a vote alone. His despair is summed
up in the song Ngisenzeni (Help me).
Ngisizeni (Help me)
Kwalukhunemhlabeni
Kwalukhunukuphila kwendoda
Kazezulwini koba njani?
Wemadoda ngisizeni.
Bakwethu ngisizeni.
Awu nakhu ngesindwa.
Wemadoda ngisizeni
Bakwethu ngilekeleleni bo.
Awu yehhe na.
Kazezulwini koba njani?
Awu nakhu ngesindwa.

I wish I were living in heaven.

My fellow men help me.
This load is too heavy for me.
My fellow men help me.
My people help me carry this load.
Living in this world is hard,
My fellow men please help me.
I wish I were in heaven.
This load is too heavy for me.
Living in this world is hard.

Poor nutrition and unhygienic living conditions left Shiyani and his family
vulnerable to illness. In most instances, the health care offered by the South
African government is alienating, humiliating, and incomprehensible to
people like Shiyani. It is very difficult to deal with illness under these circumstances. Shiyani had more faith in traditional healers than in doctors trained

84|Chapter 4

in western medicine. This was not only because of his experience of western
medical practice, but also because underpinning his understanding of the
cause of illness was the belief that it can be brought about by the curses of
witchcraft. Shiyanis belief is expressed in the song Senzeni.
Senzeni? (What is going on?)
Senzeni, senzeni, senzeni na,
laphemhlabeni bo?
Umkami angazagule kanjena?
Ngenxa yomunyumuntu.
Hhayi bo ngeke kulunge
Senzeni na?
Zasha kuShiyani bathakathi
Umfoka Skebhe sakwalukuwela.
NgibuyeNyavini, khoneMzinto langibuya
khona phansi kwaMatshikizana.
UthinuPhathekile umtaka Majozi madoda,
KhoneMkhomazi langibuya naye khona.

Who have we crossed in this

world?
Why must my wife suffer from
such a strange illness?
Is this the work of witchcraft?
This isnt fair.
Who have we crossed?
The witches are bewitching
Shiyani, the son of Skebhe.
I am from Nyavini in Umzinto,
under Matshikizana.23
What do you say Phathekile, child
of Majozi from e-Mkhomazi.

Shiyanis lyrics tell a weighty and somber story of a life of perpetual struggle.
There was no space in his life for any form of frivolity. He confronted a
struggle at every turn primarily because he had no way of becoming a productive participant in the economy. His music was not valued here at home, and
the fact that it was valued in the international arena offered only temporary
relief. He was also a remarkable teacher, but the demand for skills such as his
is very limited. Formal music education offers little opportunity for musicians
who are masters of local musical practices. The African Music and Dance
program offered at the University of KwaZulu-Natal is a rare exception. Here
students have the opportunity to learn from some of the masters of African
music; it is here that Shiyani taught a handful of students.
Shiyanis musical discourse offers some relief from the picture of disempowerment and exclusion presented in his lyrics, for it was in the musical
domain that he could assert control, give value to himself, and mark a place
of belonging. Through his virtuosity he was able to produce music that has
the appearance of the work of two or three guitarists. His music is clear evidence of his capacity as a composer. He was not trapped by stereotypes, nor
was he constrained by prescription. He took charge of his musical discourse
and directed its every flavor to suit his own aesthetic sensibility. He celebrated
subtlety often through miniscule shifts in tempo and rhythmic emphasis and

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 85

the marriage of varied melodic ideas. His performance was the enactment of
this capacity.
Shiyanis discourse on his identity, his experience, and the notion of
change in the new South Africa seeps out of the combination of his music
and lyrics. Together these two elements produce a discourse characterized
by paradox and its accompanying uncertainty. Paradox and uncertainty are
becoming increasingly more evident as features of post-postmodern life across
the globe, not least because of failing markets and neoliberal responses to
these erosions in dominant discourses on power in politics. In this respect,
Shiyanis music may resonate with a wide range of contemporary experiences
that are shaped in a variety of contexts. At the heart of his discourse is an
expression of marginalization. However, the marginalization that he speaks of
is not the experience of a few sitting on the outskirts of mainstream society; it
is in fact the experience of many; in this sense, it is the status quo; it is a way
of life for many South Africans. This point highlights a very important feature
of power relations in post-apartheid South Africa, for the mainstream is occupied by those who have economic standing rather than being occupied by the
majority. Elitism, albeit in a varied permutation, is still very present. While
racial discrimination and ethnic division are formally contested in the new
South Africa, and are indeed no longer institutionalized in the halls of government through legislation, the legacy of apartheid remains insurmountable
in an economic environment that favors the educated and the moneyed and
offers the uneducated and the poor little, if any, access to the basic requirements for human dignity. Shiyanis story is that of many others; he speaks for
many who are tethered to a past that is yet to be undone.

Phuzekhemisi (Johnson Mnyandu)

Phuzekhemisis home is in the rural region of Mkhomazi, an area in the
southern part of KwaZulu-Natal (as is Shiyani Ngcobos birthplace, Umzinto).
His experience of home, however, is in many ways quite different from that
of Shiyani.
Phuzekhemisi has great reverence for the rural Zulu homestead. Zuluness
is singularly the most important aspect of his identity, and he believes true
Zuluness belongs in the rural homestead. The rural home is thus seen as a
place of authenticity, of realness. While he might travel and engage with the
economy in business ventures located in the city, he identifies the rural homestead as his place of belonging, for it is here that he believes the Zulu way of
life is possible. Unlike Shiyani Ngcobos experience, Phuzekhemisis experience of the rural homestead gives rise to feelings of security and comfort.

86|Chapter 4

Phuzekhemisis family home is located in a hilly, remote inland area. The

road access is poor and often dangerous, particularly when there is a lot of
rain. Amenities are scarce. Water has to be collected from a tap situated in
a community area some distance from his house. There is no electricity service provided by Eskom;24 Phuzekhemisi has his own generator to produce
electricity. Few would be able to afford this luxury in this rural community.
It is not easy living here. In fact Phuzekhemisi spends a lot of his time at his
home in Amanzimtoti where these basic services are readily available. Yet,
even though he is a very successful musician, Phuzekhemisi remains strongly
connected to his rural family home.
Phuzekhemisis musical career developed during the height of apartheid.
He began not as a musician himself but working around musicians, mainly
mbaqanga musicians, assisting groups like Special Five with their choreography.25 Performing casually with his brother Khetani whenever the opportunity arose, Phuzekhemisis own maskanda music captured the attention of
those working in the industry. A music promoter took note of his potential and
encouraged Umkonto Records to take the brothers on. Phuzekhemisis career
was thus launched as the duo, Phuzekhemisi noKethani. They recorded four
albums before hitting the jackpot with the album Imbizo. Released in 1992,
this album sold more than one hundred thousand copies.
Although he says his name, Phuzekhemisi, came about as a result of his
habit of going to the chemist near his workplace in Johannesburg to get ice
water to drink (the literal translation of Phuzekhemisi is to drink at the chemist), his name also conveniently connects him to Phuzushukela, the industrys
dominant representative of maskanda at the time when Phuzekhemisis career
began. Many believe that he had been earmarked as Phuzushukelas successor. Phuzushukelas music had a considerable influence on Phuzekhemisis
music,26 and one way or another he took on this role quite naturally. He plays
in a style that is clearly connected to that of Phuzushukela. His performance
style has been heavily imbued with markers of Zuluness that suited the dominant discourses of apartheid. Money was to be made capitalizing on the divisions of apartheid, and the local recording industry was geared to this end.
The apartheid regimes construction of Zuluness coincided in fundamental ways with that of the Zulu ethnic nationalists whose ideals were most vehemently represented by the Inkatha Freedom Party, the party in control of the
KwaZulu homeland in the early 1990s. Phuzekhemisis success as a recording
artist can be attributed in no small measure to his discourse on Zuluness and
the fact that it could be easily appropriated to underpin the ideologies of the
dominant players in the political economy of that time.
Like many other Zulu men, Phuzekhemisi sought his fortune in Johannesburg. Unlike many others, however, he maintained strong ties with his

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 87

rural home in KwaZulu-Natal. Indeed his ties to his home were, and still are,
so strong that he assumed the role as spokesperson for the rural poor, a role he
still performs today. It is in this role that he can be seen challenging those in
positions of power, including government ministers and even chiefs of rural
communities. Nevertheless, despite his challenge to those in power in his lyrics, a hegemonic ascription of Zulu identity is seldom overcome in his music.
Phuzekhemisis output as a recording artist has been considerable. In 1994,
Phuzekhemisi noKhetanis last album, Emapalamende (In parliament) was
released. Khetani was killed in a car accident on the treacherous route back
to his family home. Phuzekhemisi subsequently released eleven recordings as
Phuzekhemisi, four recordings with MfazOmnyama and iHashiElimhlophe
in the Sxaxa Mbij series, one together with Inkunzi Emdaka, and one with
NoThembi Mkhwebane. He has also featured on a number of maskanda compilations. Phuzekhemisi is certainly one of the most active recording maskanda
musicians in the business. He has received a number of awards for his contribution to the genre and stands out as possibly the most highly acclaimed maskanda
musician in South Africa to date. He often headlines for important musical
events and plays at political rallies and locally hosted international conferences.

The Music
There is a large portion of Phuzekhemisis music that is positioned squarely
within the most commonly understood version of maskanda. This is the core
of his repertoire; it follows a set of general principles that have been effective
in solidifying certain musical procedures as the standards of practice for maskanda. These general principles can be identified as the following:
The organization of the musical material:
(a) A two-part opening section where the first part introduces the
harmonic framework and the second introduces the melodic
framework; there is a clear pause between this section and
the next.
(b) The body of the song is generally divided into solo and chorus sections and accompanied by all the instruments.
(c) There is then the Izibongo section.
(d) The closing section is marked with one more statement from
the solo and chorus with full instrumental backing.
An instrumental lineup of drums, bass, lead guitar, and concertina.
Instrumental parts that most often emphasize the rhythmic aspect
of the music over the melodic; melodies are most often reserved for
the voices (track 9 on Impimpi is the exception).

88|Chapter 4

The bass and drums work together as the driving force behind the
music.
The lead guitar is often buried beneath the other instruments in
the body of the song.
The concertina plays a prominent role.
The vocals are very important. The chorus has a full sound that is
supported and enhanced by the bass parts.
The title track of the album Amakhansela is a good example of the features
that are regarded as typical of Phuzekhemisis music. The song opens with
a two-part introductory section that establishes the range of notes through a
descending pattern from G to B.
Following this introductory section the other parts enter one after the
other beginning with solo vocals first, then concertina with drums close
behind. The bass drum beats insistently throughout the song. The guitar
part features a rapidly articulated repeated note that collapses downward
to its lower octave (as in the izihlabothe opening section). The vocal
melody is closely linked to the guitar part following the same downward
contour. The backing chorus is assertive, comprising strong male voices
well supported in the bass and resolute in their unity and rhythmic force.
This middle section is followed by Phuzekhemisis izibongo introduced
with the characteristic Zasha! The instruments, including the lead guitar,
carry on throughout the izibongo. This is a prerequisite for competence
in the delivery of izibongo in maskanda. The song is essentially made up
of many repeats of a few melodic ideas. The parts are coordinated rather
than staggered; every element in the musical discourse is pushing to the
same end.
Within this framework, Phuzekhemisi may include a number of different musical events so that there is some variation in the details and workings
of each song. The template has had a significant impact on Phuzekhemisis
musical discourse. It not only dominates most of his music, but in instances
where it does not, the template also operates as a reference against which
changes are measured.
The introductory section in Phuzekhemisis songs, and in maskanda
generally, is usually intended to prepare the listener for what is to come.27
Phuzekhemisi sees the introduction as a call to his audience, one that should
capture their attention and give them some sense of what is to follow (personal interview, Bat Centre, Durban, Sept. 14, 2009). A brief analysis of the
introductory sections of Phuzekhemisis songs offers some insights into the
nature and extent of any shifts away from the template.

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 89

In most of the songs the introductory section is presented on guitar. Different albums have different flavors, so that in some instances there is uniformity
in the form and content of the introductory material of each song while in others the introductory material is different for each song. On the album Emapalamende most of the introductory sections are relatively short and either skip
the rhythmically free first part (izihlabo) or shorten it considerably. By contrast,
on the album Uyisipoki most of the songs have a two-part introductory section. Most albums have at least one song that pays homage to a common maskanda motif played on the guitar in the opening section, for example, Asazi
Nibangani (track 12) on the album Sesihlangene, We Baba Wami (track 8)
on Imbizo, and Angisiy Umbulali (track 6) on Amakansela. In a number of
instances the introductory section is not presented on guitar. The most common alternative to the guitar is the concertina. In light of the concertinas established position as a maskanda instrument, this choice may be seen as a tentative
attempt at variation, but one that does not breach any well-established precepts
of the genre. In some songs there is, however, an obvious break with these precepts, for example, Weba Holi (track 8) on Impimpi and uZuma (track 9) on
Sesihlangene (We are united). In Weba Holi the introduction is presented by
the percussion section. It begins with a short statement of the following simple
rhythmic pattern played on the drum kit (see Figure 4.1).

Figure 4.1

The uncompromising regularity of this simple rhythmic pattern contrasts

with the less regular rippling of the synthesized percussion sound that mimics
the timbre associated with hand percussion. One part of the percussion section is intent on predictability while the other comes across as more flexible
and perhaps even arbitrary. The percussion is joined by the strummed chords
played on the guitar and a pattern of two alternating chords played on the
concertina. There is no pause between the introduction and the main body
of the song. The use of a strummed guitar part presents quite a challenge
to established contemporary ideas about what constitutes maskanda; the
maskanda guitar style is widely asserted as a picking style of playing. At these
points Phuzekhemisi is seen as breaking away from the legacy of his predecessor, Phuzushukela. This is quite an important shift as the picking style is most
often seen as one of the ways maskanda is linked with Zulu musical practices
that have not been westernized.

90|Chapter 4

The introduction to the song uZuma abandons the templates introduction in that it begins with an opening melodic motive played on electric guitar in a style that is more easily associated with mbaqanga or even rock music
than it is with maskanda. There are a number of songs throughout Phuzekhemisis repertoire that begin with unaccompanied vocals presented in a calland-response format. In these instances the chorus is often more substantial
(it is bigger and embraces a wider vocal range) than the chorus that is typically part of Phuzekhemisis music. This presentation is an obvious reference
to isicathamiya, a performance practice that developed parallel to maskanda.
The most widely acclaimed performers of this genre, Ladysmith Black Mambazo, have won two Grammy Awards for The Best Traditional World Music
Album in 2005 and in 2009. This is evidence for the fact that this style is
widely recognized and is celebrated essentially as traditional South African
music, both locally and abroad. In post-apartheid South Africa, Ladysmith
Black Mambazo has been afforded the same iconic status as exiled musicians
like Hugh Masakela and Miriam Makeba. Phuzekhemisis reference to isicathamiya pays homage to the status that the genre has been given through
the achievements of Ladysmith Black Mambazo and also capitalizes on the
popularity of the style. It does, however, not alter his discourse in any fundamental way as both isicathamiya and maskanda carry similar symbolic weight
as Zulu tradition.
Some of the more general features that mark songs as deviating from the
template are:
A shift to a faster tempo as for example in Asazi (track 2) on the
album Standwa
The use of English as in the title track of Sesihlangene, and Ngihamba Ngebhanoyi (track 2) on the same album
Change in form and guitar technique as in uZuma/Msholozi
(tracks 8/14) on Sesihlangene
A change in instrumentation (The inclusion of the flute on a number of tracks on Sesihlangene brings a new dimension to Phuzekhemisis music, not only because the sound of the instrument is not
ordinarily associated with the genre, but also because it is played in
smooth long phrases that connect it to an experiential space that is
quite removed from the maskanda domain.)
The album Sesihlangene, released in 2007, is the most recent of Phuzekhemisis albums to be discussed in this book.28 It is quite different from anything
else that he has released and presents quite a change in Phuzekhemisis
expressive style. It caters to a broader South African market rather than one

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 91

that is exclusively Zulu. In fact the title track actually celebrates the South
African rugby team! Rugby was marked during apartheid as the sacred territory of white South Africans and revered particularly by Afrikaners. It most
certainly would have been impossible even to imagine a maskanda musician
singing in support of amabhoka bhoka during apartheid.
Sesihlangana (We are united)
Isaga War Cry
Niyabasaba Na?
Are you fearful?
Ayi asibasabi siyabafuna
No, we are not, we crave for them
Iculo Song
Wesizwe sakithi My humble citizens,
Akekho muntu ongaqhatha thina
There are no grounds for conflict we
sesahlangana
have reconciled
Awu singamaAfrika,
We are Africans
awu Singabelungu,
We are Europeans
Awu singamandiya
We are Indians
awu singamakhaladi,
We are Coloureds
Izibongo Praises
Zasha phela kumfoka Majazana
Feel the fire from the son of
Majazana
Wahlaba ngempela uPhuzekhimi
Phuzekhemisi is really picking
Khona phezulu kwaGallo langisekhona
I am still working with Gallo
Uthina lapho weSikhumba mfoka
Whats your comment Skhumba
Khumalo
Khumalo
Namhlanje awugadli ngesheke
Today you are not paying by cheque
Awubheke namuhlanje ngizibambe
Look today I am working with
noKennedy Simba Kanti ngihamba
Kennedy Simba and Jack Walsh
naye uJack Walsh wamabhokobhoko
from the Springboks
Amabhokobhoko! The Springboks!
Mhlathi unewigi, khona ngibuya
The guy with a wig on his jaws
naye eStanderton
and a celebrity from Standerton

Partnering with Phuzekhemisi in this song is Kennedy Tsimba, a Zimbabwean who plays rugby in South Africa. The song is a perfunctory statement
of social unity. It begins with a chant called the Zulu Haka and advertised
as a cellphone ring tone that is a must have cell accessory ahead of Sundays Bok semi-final against Argentina! (The Times, October 2007). There
is a clear division between the sections sung by Tsimba and those sung by

92|Chapter 4

Phuzekhemisi. This division is not only articulated by the use of English for
Tsimbas part and Zulu for Phuzekhemisis part, but also in the style of singing, shape and contour of the melodies, and instrumental backing in each
section. Phuzekhemisis part on its own is encapsulated by the maskanda
style. I am not sure what tag to give Tsimbas part because it has the nondescript flavor of music used in commercials. The lyrics in both sections comprise mainly platitudes of reconciliation and unity. In Phuzekhemisis section
of this song the discourse on a unified South African identity is highlighted
by the statement thina sesahlangana, awusingamaAfrika, awusingbelungu,
awusingamandiya, awusingamakhaladi (we have reconciled, we are Africans, we are Europeans, we are Indians, we are Coloureds). By naming these
different groups he speaks about unity and division in one breath.
These two disparate sections (that is, Tsimbas part and Phuzekhemisis part)
are juxtaposed rather than fused. In this song the concept of unity is spoken
about in the lyrics, but in the action of the music there is still a marked division. The optimist may see this song as a statement of difference reconciled
through common cause. The pessimist may see it as, at best, recognition of
difference rather than any meaningful interaction with difference, and at worst
as the appropriation of the warrior image of Zuluness for the fantasy of a unified nation that is still in the grips of a discourse associated with whiteness.
Phuzekhemisis izibongo section in this song speaks to the optimists position as
here he aligns his personal identity with the Springboks by roaring Amabhokabhoka in their praise at the end of his izibongo. Tsimbas section is musically
simplistic, and the lyrics are superficial, unconvincing, and thus substantiating
a pessimistic view of any reconciliation of difference in South Africa in 2007.
A number of features can be identified as typical of Phuzekhemisis music
generally. Even though the guitar usually presents the introduction, it often does
not feature prominently in the rest of the music. The drums are very prominent
and have a regular driving rhythm. The music is controlled further by strongly
articulated downbeats in the bass. The concertina has a more linear role as it
weaves in between the other parts from time to time, reiterating segments of
the guitar parts. The concertina usually plays melodies and not chords. The
emphasis that Phuzekhemisi places on dance in live performance usually translates in recorded music into a solid unified chorus that has well-defined and
easily identifiable rhythmic markers. Most of Phuzekhemisis music is dominated by the drum section. There are instances, however, where the dominance
and control of the drums is diluted. This may be as a result of the staggered
entries of the different instrumental parts, as in Weba Holi.
The diagram below is a representation of the staggered entries of the different instrumental parts in this song. The numbers in each column refer
to beats; the synthesized hand drums play irregularly through the beat lines

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 93

Figure 4.2

while the drums and the concertina have motives that mark each beat quite
clearly. Note that both the drum and hand-drum sounds are synthesized. (See
Figure 4.2.)

The Lyrics
Phuzekhemisi covers a range of issues in his lyrics, but he stands out as a maskanda musician who follows political developments closely. While there are
songs about personal issues, Phuzekhemisis lyrics generally focus on public
issues. Political incompetence and its effect on poor communities is a common theme of many songs across his repertoire. Other prominent themes in
his repertoire deal with competition and rivalry, particularly from within the
maskanda domain, family conflict, violence, and death. He alludes to AIDS
but does not discuss it openly. I focus here mainly on those lyrics that raise
issues that pepper political debate in South Africa.
Phuzekhemisi is clearly familiar with many of the personalities in the
political arena. His songs often relate the impact of political policies and decisions on everyday life particularly in the rural areas of KwaZulu-Natal. He
uses his position as a singer to voice his observations of life in his home environment and of the living circumstances of those he encounters on his travels around the country. He is well known for his criticism of politicians and
people or institutions in positions of authority. His first major hit, Imbizo,
released two years before the 1994 election, set the stage for his commentary
on politics through music. Most of his albums continue in this vein.
The title track of the 1994 album Emapalamende is the first song that criticizes the institution of government. Motivated by the intense and devastating

94|Chapter 4

conflict between the ANC and the IFP, particularly in KwaZulu-Natal in the
run-up to this landmark election, Phuzekhemisi attacks parliamentarians for
arguing while people are dying.
Government accountability is addressed further on the album Impimpi
that was released the following year (1995). The songs Savota and Weba
Holi give an indication of the expectations that people had of the new political dispensation even at this early stage. In Savota Phuzekhemisi says, I
want to go to Pretoria and ask, how can I stay in a shack now that I have voted?
In Weba Holi he says, Political leaders you must deliver because we voted.
This country was ruled by Boers therefore you must make a difference.
Phuzekhemisi speaks from the perspective of rural communities often
plagued by poverty and a lack of amenities. Where the evils of poverty could
be attributed to apartheid, the assumption that once apartheid had been dismantled poverty would be alleviated could easily take hold. Once people had
voted, and the liberation movement took the reins as government, people
expected to see a change in the circumstances of their own lives. Liberation
rhetoric marked a political oppressor as the source of the problems that pervaded peoples lives, like poor living conditions, poor wages, and inadequate
health care. This paved the way for the idea that the removal of the oppressor
should result in the removal of the social problems for which the oppressor
was held accountable and also set a precedent for the idea that government
is responsible for social conditionsnow that the liberation movement is government, it is held accountable.
The 1999 album, Inkunzi Kabhejane (Rhinoceros), presents a miserable picture of conflict, violence, abuse, and death. There is little evidence here of the
optimism and expectations of change felt in 1994. The title track, Inkunzi
Kabhejane, opens the album with a challenge (or even a threat), as Phuzekhemisi represents himself as a male rhinoceros with one horn on his forehead
that he will use aggressively. This is followed in Igama Lami (My name) by
representations of personal betrayal. Here he admonishes a woman for having
relationships with other men when he is not around. Four of the songs on this
album refer directly to violence and political instability. Induna Yezinsizwa
(Chief) describes the inefficacy of the chiefs in combating violence. Phuzekhemisi expresses the view that the chief could prevent people from dying if
he were to assert control over his people. In the next track, Izinhlangano
(Political parties), he holds political parties accountable for the violence, and in
Amaphoyisa (Police), he refers to the violence perpetrated on innocent people
by the police, saying that the government should not let this happen. Egoli
(Johannesburg) speaks of unbearable fighting in Johannesburg.
The song Mtaka baba (My sister) and Embangweni (In dispute) allude
to violence rather than speaking of it directly. In Mtaka baba he speaks of

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 95

his sisters painful death.29 There is no clue given regarding the circumstances
of his sisters death, but in view of the prevalence of AIDS and violent political clashes, both come to mind. In Embangweni the reference to violence
is muted, as a dispute over land and water. In Emakhosini (The chief s
palace), Phuzekhemisi refers with some disdain and frustration to the inefficacy of the chiefs. He alludes to a meeting that has been called at the chiefs
homestead probably to call for money from the community, which has little
to give. In Izifundiswa (Educated people), he speaks of a different version
of violence: economic exploitation. In this song Phuzekhemisi complains that
he has worked hard for men who say they have degrees and that they have
benefited from his labor, while he has not. The lyrics of the songs on this
album express a composite picture of the political sentiments and anxieties
that Phuzekhemisi regards as important at this time. There is little to suggest
any change or relief from the hardships that people had experienced before
1994.
I jump now from Inkunzi Kabhejane, released in 1999, to the album
Nginenkinga released in 2001. This album has a much more personal tone
than Inkunzi Kabhejane. On the title track, Phuzekhemisi speaks of one of
the consequences of change, namely, the lived experience of the inconsistencies between past and present ways of life. He says that even though his son
is a scholar, he still wants his father to pay lobola for his wife. The dilemma
is a practical one that is indicative of the financial burdens that weigh heavily on the common man/woman caught between two different worlds that
have not been reconciled, but exist side by side, often producing distortions
and disjuncture, rather than realizing practical compromises that have some
chance of working productively in everyday life.
The title track of the album Amakhansela (2002) voices dissatisfaction at the
lack of development in the rural areas and again expresses the expectation that
the government would instigate change: he says here that people will not vote for
those in government if there is no development. The vote is thus represented as
a bargaining tool for the poor, rather than as an automatic ticket to a better life.
Although not as intense as Inkunzi Kabhejane, the album We Baba (2003)
also has a very somber tone and deals once again with government incompetence, witchcraft, violence, suspicion, and the gap between the world of the
educated and that of the uneducated.
Uyisipoki (2004) has two songs that are positive and happy: uMgababa
(uMgababa) and Abashayi bengoma (We are singers of traditional song).
This second song celebrates of the groups success as musicians, claiming they
are the best maskanda group in uMkhomazi. But the rest of the album reveals
a harsh world full of suspicion, superstition, violence, and death. It ends once
again holding the government to account:

96|Chapter 4

Umehluko (Changes)
Ilokhu savota lutho umehluko
We have voted but we dont see

any changes
Abaholi abafunukusisiz lena
Our leaders dont want to help
ngakithi
us in the rural areas
We have no running water, no elec-
Asinamanzi, asinagesi asinamigwaqo
tricity, and no roads

Phuzekhemisis lyrics present a recurring assumption that the government

should serve as the peoples protector. The view he presents is that the government not only has authority but also responsibility, and that it can be taken
to task over issues that affect peoples everyday lives, like health, schooling,
housing, access to amenities, and transport. In a number of instances Phuzekhemisi calls politicians to account by name. In the song We Mafumadi on
the album Sesihlangene (2007),30 Phuzekhemisi, speaking on behalf of those
living in the rural areas, calls on Mr. Mafumadi to improve the local government as there are problems in the rural areas.
While most of Phuzekhemisis songs deal with issues of particular concern
to the rural poor, in some instances topical issues of concern to a broader
public are covered.
Zimbabwe
Benza ngamabomu abaseZimbabwe
madoda
Ngaso sonke isikhathi kuleyandawo
bahlala beyovota
Khuza Mbeki kwelaseZimbabwe
Nanka amanyala lwelaseZimbabwe
Bashaywa kanjani abantu
sebesezandleni zamaphoyisa
Balimala kanjani abantu ezandleni
zamaphoyisa
Naniphila kanjani ngalesiyasikhathi
kuseyi-Rhodesia
Nanihleli kanjani kuseseyi Rhodesia
Ngiyabuza?

This was planned in Zimbabwe

Now and then they go for elections
Mediate Mbeki in Zimbabwe
There is a scandal in Zimbabwe
People get beaten in police custody
There is human rights abuse by police
What is different from your Rhodesian
period?
How was your life during the Rhodesian era?
I am asking?

In this song, Zimbabwe (also on the album Sesihlangene) Phuzekhemisi asks

Zimbabweans to compare Mugabes regime with that of Ian Smith,31 departing
here from Winnie Madikizela-Mandelas view that liberation leaders are owed

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 97

allegiance no matter what their record of delivery may be.32 While MadikizelaMandela constructs a version of patriotism that carries ascribed allegiance to
liberation leaders, through her obvious disdain for the Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) in Zimbabwe, Phuzekhemisi questions the success of
the liberation movement leaders in government. He shows no qualms about
voicing a comparison between the regime of Ian Smith and that of Robert
Mugabe. By suggesting this comparison he alludes to the idea that indeed a
change of government has not produced a change in peoples circumstances.
Phuzekhemisi here is actually questioning the assumption that pervades so
many of his other lyrics: that a liberation government can and will remedy the
ills of poverty, marginalization, and disempowerment.
Phuzekhemisis reputation as a political commentator and spokesperson
for the poor must indeed have left him feeling obliged to comment on the
debacle surrounding Jacob Zumas prosecution for his alleged involvement in
the notorious arms deal. The song U Zuma, asks the National Prosecuting
Agency to explain the nature of Zumas crime and why he is being tortured.
As in the song Zimbabwe, the lyrics in this song raise a controversial
issue through a question. This is common in Phuzekhemisis songs where
delicate or volatile issues are aired in the lyrics. It is a strategy that capitalizes
on the much publicized government claims to transparency while at the same
time revealing its obvious absence. The lack of transparency around Zumas
case produced all sorts of suspicions about the workings of government and its
accountability within the public domain. Many believe that Jacob Zuma was
a victim of a vicious conspiracy to ruin his political career. Yet others believed
that he was an opportunist who benefited from a corrupt relationship with
Schabir Shaik who had been convicted under the Corruption Act No. 94 of
1992 arising from his relationship with Zuma.33 Even the courts were seen to
vacillate in their opinion on the merits of the states case against Jacob Zuma.
Either way public perceptions were made, not through access to information
about the nature of Zumas involvement in the arms deal and his relationship
with Shaik, but rather on the basis of snippets and stories that emerged in the
press. The full story has still not been made public, even though the National
Prosecuting Agency decided to withdraw the charges against Jacob Zuma at
the eleventh hour before the election in May 2008.
Much of Jacob Zumas popularity could be attributed to his claim on the
sentiments of the poor. In December 2008 his followers gathered in the thousands to hear him speak at the Jabulani Stadium in Soweto. Addressing the
audience as We the poor, Zuma proceeded to claim the ANC as the authentic representative of the poor. This, he said, could be seen in the fact that
while the ANC held its rally in the territory of the poor, the newly formed

98|Chapter 4

party, COPE,34 was staging its inaugural meeting in the territory of the moneyed, at the conference center in Sandton.
Phuzekhemisi expresses empathy for Zuma in the lyrics of this song; the
music adds a fair measure of reverence as a consequence of its anthemlike
qualities that are particularly evident in the slower-than-usual tempo of the
song.35 The lack of improvement in the lives of the rural poor that he has sung
about over the past fifteen years now sits at Jacob Zumas door. Perhaps Phuzekhemisi will offer the best source of information about how he fares.

Phuzekhemisi on Life in Post-apartheid South Africa

There are some general features of Phuzekhemisis music that stand out as
important to this project, concerned as it is primarily with the expression of
experiences and expectations of transformation. The lyrics reveal prominent
sentiments of disappointment with transformation in South Africa. They are
concerned with the lack of development in the rural areas where everyday life
is a struggle because of the lack of basic amenities. Phuzekhemisi represents
these communities as being in a survival mode. There is little room, energy,
or money for fun or pleasure. While Phuzekhemisi has a strong passion for
rural life, he recognizes the current dysfunctional state of rural communities.
In his earlier songs the government is called upon to remedy the situation, but
by his 2007 album, Sesihlangene, a deeper sense of skepticism regarding the
capacity and intention of government begins to emerge not only in the lyrics
but also through the music. From amid this skepticism, however, Jacob Zuma
emerges as a possible savior for the poor. His political rhetoric coincides in
many ways with that of Phuzekhemisi, as do his personal circumstances. He
is uneducated; he has maintained strong ties with his rural home in Inkandla,
the heartland of Zuluness; he is not poor but positions himself as a spokesman
for the poor, and to a large extent this accounts for his popularity.
In his 2007 album Phuzekhemisi moves away from strong expressions of
ethnic nationalism; this is replaced by a rather self-conscious attempt to widen
the resonance of his discourse to include white South Africans. Against the
background of his earlier music, and his status within the genre, the album
Sesihlangene may come as something as a shock to maskanda followers.36 The
changes in musical language alone may indeed be seen as a quite radical
shift in his position. I was also rather surprised by this album, particularly seeing that in one of our discussions, Phuzekhemisi had expressed reservations
about making any substantial changes to his style. He was concerned that any
major shifts from his established style would be read as a form of betrayal of
the ideals of those traditionalists who have made up the main body of his
followers.37

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 99

In this album the most significant change comes as a result of the inclusion of styles and sounds not ordinarily associated with maskanda. As a consequence of the way these styles are incorporated, there is a substantial alteration
to the form of his music. The musical material is now arranged in sections:
those that are Phuzekhemisis maskanda and those that are other. The formal arrangement of the music is determined by these juxtaposed styles rather
than by the standards of practice established for maskanda in the previous
era. Flute and saxophone, instruments that are not ordinarily associated with
maskanda interject, interrupt, or simply occupy a space at a distance from the
rest of the musical action. What they do not do is engage with the maskanda
discourse. Phuzekhemisis approach to musical difference does not involve
any real fusion that would create a new coherent whole; instead, he maintains
difference, allowing only wary interaction from a distance, an approach reminiscent of the apartheid ideal of separate development.
Nevertheless, the attempt at change in his musical discourse is in itself an
acknowledgment of transformation, albeit slow, tentative, and rather clumsy.
This shift in Phuzekhemisis musical discourse suggests that he sees a need
to engage with a broader audience and to recontextualize maskanda as South
African music rather than Zulu music. Flexibility with regard to the relationship between maskanda and its label as Zulu traditional music is also creeping into his discourse in a way that would have been hard to imagine even
five years ago. By playing with different sounds and styles, he experiments
with the notion of maskanda as contemporary popular music. The focus here
is on the present rather than on the past. The present, however, is marked by
ambivalence and confusion regarding how the different identity positions can
be reconciled. His vision of unity emerges as something that is vaguely imagined but that has little resonance with his sense of reality.

iHashiElimhlophe (Bheki Ngcobo)

Young teenage boys in the rural areas where he grew up would give themselves
names that were different to the ones they had been given by their parents. He
chose the white horse because the horse is strong and because the colour white
is associated with good things; he did not want to be called a black horse because black is associated with evil. (Linah Ngcobo, iHashiElimhlophes wife,
telephone conversation, 2009)

This section opens with some insights into the way iHashiElimhlophe has
organized his life and his relationships. This offers insight into what is possible
in post-apartheid South Africa and thus also into how transformation is taking shape. I have included direct quotations from interviews that I have had
with iHashiElimhlophe and his wife, Linah, in order to give something of a

100|Chapter 4

heteroglossic texture to this production of their story and to expose (with as

little mediation as possible) their perspective on life generally, their relationship, and the role that music making has had in their everyday experience.38
Their turn of phrase, the way they express themselves, carries information
about how they see their world. The intention is also to enhance the readers
sense of how iHashiElimhlophe formulates his ideas about music, his work,
his life, and his relationships. Unless otherwise indicated all indented quotations are by iHashiElimhlophe.
iHashiElimhlophe is a city man. He was born in the northern regions of
KwaZulu-Natal, in KwaBiyela near Empangeni, but his connection with this
region is now rather tenuous as nearly all his family have moved away from
there. In fact most of his family now live in and around Johannesburg.
He remembers his childhood quite passively, recalling rural life as slow
and isolated and with very little access to anything beyond that which was
experienced first hand.
I started as a very young boy as a farm worker; I was a herd boy and earned
R2.50 a month. I gave most of the money I earned to my mother. We did not
know that there was a life outside of that, and we did not know that you could
make a business, and living out of being a musician. For me music was just part
of everyday life. I was not thinking of being a musician.

iHashiElimhlophe grew up with music around him; both the guitar and the
concertina are particularly prominent in his memories of the music of his
childhood.
I listened to my father on guitar and my uncle on concertina and copied what
they were doing. My uncle is now a recognized musician playing mbaqanga.

Like many young boys, he made his own guitar out of an oil tin can (igogogo),
and his teacher was a family member, his uncle Twalofu. Exposure to Phuzushukelas music and more particularly to his success as a recording artist changed
iHashiElimhlophes perception of the relationship between music and work.
iHashiElimhlophe met Phuzushukela only once for a very short time. It was his
position as a recording artist that captured iHashiElimhlophes imagination.
Phuzushukela carried the message that you can make a living out of guitars and
that this music can be your work and your way of life.

Phuzushukela is not the only recorded musician that iHashiElimhlophe

remembers,39 but he stands out for iHashiElimhlophe on account of the

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 101

music that he played and because he made a career out of playing this music.
He represented an alternative to life as a unit of labor in an economy that was
owned and controlled by the white minority, a role that had been mapped out
for black people for more than a century.40 The commercialization of maskanda produced an opportunity to work with a sense of autonomy that was
seldom, if ever, available in other work options. Although the South African
music industry was owned and controlled by white businessmen, black people
had significant influence over the production of music for the black sector of
the market. For the musician, this was a world that offered a greater sense of
self-worth than any job in a factory, or mine, or on a farm. As was standard
practice at the time, Phuzushukela was paid per recording and had no royalty
or copyright claims on his music. While compensation often did not come
as money, it did come as some sense of autonomy. Perhaps Phuzushukelas
iconic status should be attributed as much to the inspiration that he offered
other musicians seeking autonomy in an oppressive economic environment,
as to the uniqueness or peculiarities of his style of maskanda.
iHashiElimhlophe moved to Johannesburg in his early twenties. He
played guitar in a number of groups before joining Soul Brothers, one of the
most successful mbaqanga groups in the business in the 1980s. He did not
work only with Soul Brothers, however. He enjoyed performing with other
musicians, and unlike many other maskanda musicians he had no difficulty
doing so.
Thus early on in his career he showed a musical flexibility that was not
common among maskanda musicians. He was the lead singer of Imitshotshovu, a side project of the Soul Brothers, and it was following the launch of
Imitshotshovus debut album that he decided to embark on a solo career as a
maskanda musician. His first album was released by the Durban-based company, Priority. Later he moved to Tusk, a recording company bought by Gallo.
iHashiElimhlophe is firmly entrenched in a city environment. He lives
with his wife, Linah, and four grown-up children in Germiston, a city that
borders on Johannesburg.
We met and fell in love as Bheki and Linah not as iHashiElimhlophe and
Ebony. Linah became famous before me and people were saying no she must
leave this little person who is nobody; she should upgrade. But our love is not
based on material things or fame.

iHashiElimhlophe is separated in this statement from Bheki, a reminder

that unlike many other maskanda musicians, he has a sense of agency as
one who is separate from his persona as maskanda musician. Other musicians like Phuzekhemisi have a much more exclusive investment in their

102|Chapter 4

identities as maskanda musicians so that there is little conscious separation

between the musician and the man. Here iHashiElimhlophe clearly makes
this distinction.
Linah is a musician in her own right and is also her husbands manager.41
She also categorizes her roles quite distinctly, showing a separation that allows
her to adopt different positions in relation to her husband. In some instances
she has authority over him; in others, he has authority over her. This is how
Linah described their relationship:
At work I am the manager; at home I am the wife. I tell him what to do at work
and he tells me what to do at home. Being the manager is just something I had
to do because of the exploitation that is in the music industry and you know
there are frustrations and all that whereby youngsters end up taking drugs
and I just knew I had to be there and to watch. We have our own recording
company. I organize everything. It works. When we argue at work we dont
take that home and when we argue at home we dont take that to work. We are
very good friends and we have been together for more than twenty-eight years.
(Linah Ngcobo, 2007)

The entire family is involved in music. Linah and Bhekis children, Nathi,
Ntombi, Jabu, and Vusiwe have their own group called Amamponi. One of
their sons is a DJ and the other is involved in studio production. Their daughter, Vusiwe, is a singer and a popular young presenter on the SABC1 childrens program YOTV. The family is bound together by music and through
their common commitment as born again Christians.
We are all Christians; we go to the Assembly of God church and if you come to
our house on a Wednesday night we have a bible study where we pray for each
other and discuss the bible. We use this time to communicate as a family and
to discuss our problems.

Their heritage in Zulu tradition has little effect on their Christian beliefs.
They engage with their heritage selectively. Ordinary ceremonies, like the
coming of age of a young girl, are incorporated into their lives but without
any particular reference to or reverence for their ancestors.
I believe that if you have a problem and something is wrong in your life you
need to go to God. I do not deny that there are ancestors; it said in the Bible
that there are; but when you have problems you should not go to them but to
God. I believe that they are there and as it said in the Bible they will come again
but the main principle in my life is God. There are instances where people

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 103

will slaughter a cow or a goat and dedicate it to their ancestors and ask them
for money or something like that. I dont believe in this slaughtering to ask for
something in return. No, I dont believe in that.

Linah and Bheki have built a family that would be regarded as exceptional in
most social settings. In the South African context, their achievement is quite
remarkable. Both of them grew up during apartheid, and both have relied on
the fickle and unpredictable world of commercial music to generate a living.
In many respects their success can be attributed to their flexibility and their
capacity to engage with change rather than to resist it. The security of a close,
warm, and supportive family unit held strong by love and respect should not
be underestimated as an important contributory factor in this success. Their
genuine passion for music and their work in the music world have also played
important roles in building their family business. iHashiElimhlophe really
loves his work.
I find today that the problem with so many artists is that they love money to
the point that it takes their attention away from their work and they dont work
properly. It does not matter how menial or how small your job is, you must work
to your fullest and money will come automatically. When I go on stage I dont
think about how much money my manager has arranged for us to be paid. No
matter how small the amount, my job is always to perform at my utmost. I love
and respect my job. For me there is no better profession.

The Music
What I want to do with the maskanda is to build from what Phuzushukela
started; to make it grow so that it not something that comes from KwaZuluNatal but make it a national genre that is acceptable to all the other provinces. I want it to belong not just to KwaZulu-Natal but to belong to the
whole of South Africa, and the rest of the black people; to make it accessible
and acceptable to them. Phuzushukela gave us the basis; I am working to
expand that. I include all these other elements, house music, the old township sounds, and kwaito so that it will evolve and catch the youth too and
to move with it to make us realize and learn about our culture. It is a genre
that is usually associated with people above forty or fifty. I want it to grow and
evolve. (iHashiElimhlophe)

My analysis of iHashiElimhlophes music is based on the sixty-nine

songs on five albums, Isiphalaphala (1997), Muntuza (2002), Mkhulu

104|Chapter 4

(2003), Umhlaba (2004), and 100% iHashi (2005). These songs can be
divided into two groups: those that have easily recognizable features
that are generally regarded as typical of maskanda in relation to form,
instrumentation, style of guitar playing, relationship between the different parts, style of singing, inclusion of izibongo, rhythm and pace,
and content of the lyrics; and those that diverge significantly from these
expectations.

Songs that Remain Within the Standard Parameters of Maskanda

W hile the songs in this f irst group have features that are t ypical
of maskanda generally, they also have features that mark them as
iHashiElimhlophes version of maskanda. The features that mark his
style can be identified as:
1. There is not much emphasis on the opening section and very
little flourish from the lead guitar. The opening section is
usually an introduction to the main melody or melodies of the
song.
2. The form follows a pattern of introduction; solo; chorus with
repeats; izibongo extended into two parts separated by a short instrumental interlude; and chorus with solo interjections.
3. The harmony is often based on a I-IV-V-I pattern and the harmonic
changes are usually coordinated with the rhythm.
4. The lead guitar is an electric and not an acoustic guitar, and it is
often played with the twangy sounds associated with mbaqanga
or mgashiyo rather than maskanda.
5. The singing style is animated and tends to be set in a high-pitch
register.
6. The melodies linger on long notes at peak points
7.The izibongo is presented in two parts interspersed with a short
instrumental interlude that articulates prominent musical
material (rhythmic and/or melodic). In most instances there is
a distinguishable difference between the two parts: the second
part is usually slower than the first, and while the words are performed as praise poetry, they are not actually praises but rather
an extension of the ideas presented in the lyrics of the rest of
the song.
8. The bass guitar often plays a repeated phrase that has a call-andresponse type form. The following pattern, or variations on it, is
common (see Figure 4.3):

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 105

Figure 4.3

Some examples of this group of songs are Sebenza Emgogini from Muntuza, Uthando Lunjani from Isiphalaphala, and Amaqubu from 100%
iHashi.

Songs That Deviate from the Common Standards of Maskanda

The second group of songs has its own set of features. These songs deviate
from the maskanda template because they draw on a number of different
styles and procedures associated with other musical genres. These examples
are presented to our aural sensibility holding the banner of maskanda, but
they carry strong musical connections to other musical spaces. The two most
dominant genres that are referenced are kwaito/house and gospel music.42
Both these genres are popular and dynamic musical domains, and while their
boundaries are quite often contested, as is the case with maskanda each has
its own musical markers that are regarded as typical. In a number of instances
the contemporary signifiers of early township music, such as marabi, are also
called into play, not as a primary musical reference but rather as a secondary
resource. While gospel and kwaito are popular contemporary styles, marabi is
an historic style from the 1910s to the mid-1930s. All are, however, rooted in
an urban space. The most prominent signifier of maskanda in this group of
songs is the inclusion of izibongo.

Maskanda/ Kwaito Songs

The most striking feature of these songs is the way the vocals and the rhythm
are dealt with. In these songs, the rapid speech style ordinarily restricted to
the izibongo sections that occupy a relatively small portion of a maskanda
song is used for a much larger portion of the song. In kwaito the vocals are
characteristically chanted.
iHashiElimhlophe exploits this point of commonality in order to amalgamate the two genres. The izibongo section of maskanda now assumes some
of the features of kwaito. It is through this focus on commonality rather than
difference that iHashiElimhlophe is able to create a new and dynamic discourse that avoids the divisions implicit in difference.
The title track of the album Muntuza is a good example of the fusion
of maskanda with kwaito/house music. It begins with a pounding drumbeat
with the following simple rhythm and with a strong emphasis on the first beat
(see Figure 4.4):

106|Chapter 4

Figure 4.4

This is followed by a flourish of ascending notes played on the lead

guitar. This introduction is separated from what follows by a pause.
The opening section is thus typical of maskanda in principle but not in
content.
The guitar then plays material linked to the vocal melodies that follow.
It plays in a style associated more with mbaqanga than maskanda. It is soon
joined by the chorus repeating a short phrase Amashwa!Hhayi suka lapha
amabhadi lawa (This is bad luck). The drum continues relentlessly throughout this process, but once the guitar part has entered the emphasis shifts from
the first beat to the third beat (see Figure 4.5).

Figure 4.5

This process is quite typical of a lot of maskanda where the rhythm responds
to the musical processes in the other parts; it is not immutable or unaffected
by the paths of the parts surrounding it. In this instance the relentless driving rhythm of kwaito is disturbed by the guitar, and it responds in order to
negotiate a fusion.
In his opening the soloist (iHashiElimhlophe) calls for his sweethearts
(muntuza) attention with the words wenunu, wemuntuza (Hey nunu, hey
sweethearts). This call is followed by a solo vocal section that is strongly
linked in style to maskanda through the melodic contour as the voice
pushes toward the long high note at the peak of the melody. At one minute
thirty seconds iHashiElimhlophe bursts into the rapid speech style of izibongo, barely giving the bass time to prepare the listener for this change. In
maskanda the izibongo section is usually more overtly anticipated. This may
be done in a number of different ways, such as through whistles, a slowing
of the tempo, or a thinning of the musical texture. The vocal delivery in
this section is overwhelmingly fast; it is a wildly energetic display of passion
and agitation. Even though this song begins recalling the form of maskanda

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 107

it soon becomes evident that the musical ideas here are in fact organized
quite differently. The musical material is divided into clearly identifiable
sections. Different parts have different sections, and some parts have two or
more sections. The song operates as a process in which these sections are
juggled in different combinations. None of the sections are given a free rein
to dominate the music, not even the drums. Taking into account only the
music (without any other considerations to justify the attachment of either
label), at this point it becomes clear that this is neither a maskanda version
of kwaito nor a kwaito version of maskanda. The song negotiates a discourse
that is different from either of these established domains. It forges a new
style that is the consequence of interaction and negotiation around points
of commonality.

Maskanda/Gospel Songs
There are six tracks in all on the albums under review here that include elements of gospel music, each in different ways and to varying degrees.43 Khuluma Nami (Talk to me), track 2 on the album Umhlaba, is perhaps the most
striking because of the way it successfully fuses maskanda and gospel music.
A closer look at how the music is organized and the musical language that is
used will make this clearer.
This song begins with a t wo-part introduction as is t ypical of
iHashiElimhlophes straight maskanda songs. The first part is (as one
would expect) presented on solo guitar as a flourish of single notes beginning on C. The two parts are separated by a pause. In the second part there
is a marked shift in style. The music shifts from a horizontal perspective
produced by notes sounding one after the other to a vertical perspective
produced by notes sounding simultaneously as chords. The harmonic movement is emphasized by the rhythm and by the marking of each harmonic
change as a point of arrival. This shift in style is emphasized by the reduced
tempo.
In the next section of the song, the focus is on the vocals. Here there are
twelve repeats of the same melodic material. It is opened by the solo voice
that repeats the phrase Khuluma nami lalele (Talk to me, Im listening);
this is followed by the following phrases each repeated by solo and chorus
singing together: (1) Khuluma nami lalele; (2) Gwalina mame; (3) Ulabulala; (4) Talk to me, Im listening; and (5) Hambanana no chechereza. The same message is thus presented in a number of different South
African languages.
Although one might hear the harmony in this section as diatonic with C
as the tonal center, the rhythmic emphasis on D and the cyclical nature of the

108|Chapter 4

music makes it possible to think of the harmonies as based on the juxtaposition of the tonic triad of C major and the tonic triad of D minor. This recalls
the harmonic practice associated with Nguni musical heritage, particularly
bow music, a heritage very much part of the musical sensibility and experience of the earliest maskanda musicians.44
The next section is given to the izibongo. Here the most striking and indeed
unusual feature is the nature of the musical processes that are married. The
very rapid high-pitched speech passage of the izibongo is heard against an
instrumental accompaniment that is calm, controlled, and unrelenting in its
cyclical sounding of the vertical landmarks of different harmonies. The maskanda principle of keeping the instrumental backing going during the izibongo is adhered to here, but the backing is in itself far from what one expects
from maskanda; this marriage is quite startling.
The discourse on contemporary experience in these two songs is quite different from that in most maskanda music. Here, popular genres with distinct
and easily identifiable markers of style are called into play. Thinking of the
genre as a metaphor for social groups or identities, each of course with different histories and different cultures of practice, I see a new optimistic view of
South African society embedded in the musical discourse in these two songs.
While each genre is recognizable, neither holds a position of dominance.
Instead their relationship and interaction are negotiated through aspects of
commonality. It is through negotiation that a new sound experience takes
shape.

The Lyrics
The lyrics of most of iHashiElimhlophes songs offer general social commentary. They tend to be suggestive rather than explicit. In some instances, this is
because the lyrics never leave the precincts of the title (as in Zwozwa Ngempama [Shocking things are happening],45 or Thatha Izibhamu [Take the
guns]);46 in others it is because the lyrics are presented as a direct statement
that has metaphoric function as in Uyashikiza (The wand);47 in yet others
it is because the musical setting of the lyrics is ambivalent as in Amasiko
(Culture).48
In both Zwozwa Ngempama and Thatha Izibhamu there is no narrative adding insight or explanation to the statements that are made in the
title. In Zwozwa Ngempama we are not told what shocking things are being
referred to, and bearing in mind the diversity of South African experience,
what might be seen as shocking in one set of circumstances may indeed not
be regarded as even remotely extraordinary in another. Similarly in Thatha
Izibhamu there is no expansion of the opening idea. In a country plagued by

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 109

violent crime one could possibly assume that it is obvious why the government
should ban guns. Nevertheless, one might also expect a more impassioned
and graphic reflection on life on the streets of South African cities because
violent crime is such a common occurrence. No particular or personalized
perspective is presented in either of these songs. The lyrics remain neutral
enough to be given meaning by a range of different people and in a range of
different circumstances.
The lyrics of Uyashikiza claim the wand of the witchdoctor is not easily distinguishable from the wand of the healer. Here iHashiElimhlophe
alludes to the complexity of contemporary life where stark dichotomies no
longer exist (where good and evil are not poles apart) and to the commonly
expressed sentiment that ubunyanga (the profession of a healer) is often filled
with impostors, particularly in the cities.
In Amasiko (Culture), the lyrics call on people to remember their
roots. The appeal to the people of the rainbow nation not to forget their
roots, their traditions, and who they are is made in the context of a musical
backing that is hardly a signifier of Zulu culture. The rather labored cyclical
instrumental backing is in fact culturally neutral; it could underpin a range
of different styles in the panoply of music that permeates contemporary life.
Initially I saw this song as a nave, simplistic, even a careless expression
of culture, as a crass capitalization on the idea of an African renaissance
and one with very little musical substance to underpin the message in
the lyrics. Upon reflection, however, I think that its paradoxthat is, the
contradiction that exists between what is said and how it is contextualized
musicallycould also be read as an open-ended view of both identity and
culture, one that regards them as blank pages waiting to be written. This
song plays havoc with ones expectations and preconceived ideas of what
constitutes South African culture. I expect to hear the sounds that I regard
as signifiers of traditional South Africanness accompanying a call for the
preservation of traditional South African culture. And I do not get that here.
Besides iHashiElimhlophes own short interjection in the song, this is his
sons song. It is space clearly given over to expression from the youth. The
guitar opening associated with maskanda is prematurely interrupted by the
young boys speech song delivered in a rehearsed and self-conscious way in
Americanized English:
Yeah, rainbow nation listen carefully to this
This is part of our own traditional music Gadja! Oh Yeah.
We gotta keep up with our South African roots and know that we are the best and
we gotta keep it up
Masibuye Masisizwe Masibuye

110|Chapter 4

The lyrics are presented in English and in isiZulu. The use of English
is still startling in any neotraditional style like maskanda. But this is not
ordinary maskanda. In the practice of everyday living young people whose
mother tongue is not English are increasingly adopting English as a common medium of communication. American television and a fascination
with American music and lifestyles have had a considerable influence on
how young people in South Africa position themselves both at home and
in relation to the rest of the world. iHashiElimhlophe accommodates
the fantasies of the youth and keeps the door open here for their identities and their tradition to be made on new terms. This is a far cry from
the approach of ethnic nationalists in the apartheid era who were clearly
prescriptive about how Zulu identity should be constituted and what
qualified as tradition.
In a similar vein the song Kanti Unjani (100% iHashi) recognizes the
incompleteness not only of identities but also of situations, saying through
metaphor that assumptions can be misleading, and nothing is concluded
forever.
Osiyi shayile akakayosi
When you hit a bird you have not

roasted it
Naseyosile akakayidli
When you have roasted it you have

not eaten
Maseyidlile udl(e) kala
If you eat it does not mean it was
right

These words later in the song are a strong assertion of agency and a defiance
of prescription.
Hi suka mina ngiya
Kushiya angikuthande

No damn it I will leave

I do not like you

A series of events are presented in the lyrics of this song, and a commonly
assumed position of agency following from each event is suggested but at
the same time negated by the warning against the assumption that the first
action (you hit a bird) leads automatically to the next (you roast the bird).
With the last two lines iHashiElimhlophe then asserts the individuals right
to act outside of the commonly prescribed logic at any point in the series
of events that make up our life experience. This claim to choice would have
some resonance with a youthful sense of empowerment.
The song Amadoda (Men) highlights difference in order to contest the
uniformity prescribed by labels; in this instance the label is men:

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 111

Amadoda awafani
Kukhona adume ngokuhle
kanti amanye adume ngokubi
Awuyisholo wena ukuthi udume ngani
Sicelusitshele. Sifunukwazi.
Amadoda ahluke ngezinteziningi.
Amanye ayadlwengula, amanyeamadoda
ayaliphoxigama lamadoda.
Amanye ayatshotsha,amanye ayabulala.
Amanye amavila, amanye ayasebenza.

Men are not the same.

Some are known for good deeds,
while some are known for
bad things.
Tell us what you are known for.
We want to know.
Men differ in many ways.
Some men are rapists, some give
men a bad name.
Some are thieves, some are murderers.
Some are lazy, some work hard.

As these songs show, iHashiElimhlophe presents a discourse on identity that

recognizes the incompleteness of identity; for him identity is made and not
given. But he goes further than this. He contests the constraints that society
puts on the process of identity-making by giving undiluted agency to individuals to mold their world and the way they feature in it. This reactionary
approach to a history of prescription uses denial to refute the inevitable limitations on autonomy imposed by the social constructs that define and impose
the boundaries of action.
A significant number of iHashiElimhlophes songs are about positive love
relationships between men and women. In some instances the focus is on
pleasure and fun; here there is little coyness in the expression of male pleasure in the female body. The emphasis in many of these songs is on the physical aspect of relationships as in Muntuza (Sweethearts). Other songs are
more specifically about the marriage relationship as is indicated by the words,
Until death us do part in Ungowami (You are mine). There are also songs
that offer more general commentary on social attitudes to marriage or love
relationships, for example, Into Yakadala (Its an old thing):
Love is a joke to some people
Do you think it is a bus with small wheels?
As you can see the divorce level is very high
It is because people play around with love.

Lyrics with a Christian message are predictably paired with a gospel/maskanda musical setting. The song Unkulukulu Wenza Intwnhle (God did a
good thing) is quite typical. Here the message in the lyrics offers particular
insight into a religious construction of contemporary experience, and one not
unique to South Africa.
One good thing that God did was to make people to love one another

112|Chapter 4

He said love your neighbor as you love yourself

But people dont do that anymore
They are full of hatred.

Religious logic is based here on assumptions that are questionable in nonreligious circles, for here there is an obvious contradiction in the proposition that
God made people in one way (to love one another), but they are quite to the
contrary (they are full of hatred). In this song there is no tension around these
assumptions, suggesting that they are accepted and supported by a large body
of people. Christian ideology is the only religious framework represented in
iHashiElimhlophes music. iHashiElimhlophe does not regard traditional
Zulu belief systems and the Christian religion as mutually exclusive. He packages them separately and is selective about what he puts into practice in his
own life. This approach gives him liberty to fuse maskanda and gospel music to
produce a discourse that asserts an identity that is both modern and traditional.
Songs that proclaim the past as a source of authenticity may be seen as a
claim on tradition. However, the past that these songs recall is indeed not one
that is commonly associated with Zulu tradition. It acknowledges the histories
and experiences of many black South Africans whose forefathers lives were
shaped and molded by urban experience and missionary education.
There are a number of songs about the power of money in contemporary society. These songs (perhaps inadvertently) highlight one of the core sticking points
in the transformation of South African society. The song Awuyona Mali (You
are not money) cynically claims that money is the only thing loved by everyone.
In 1994 there was widespread expectation that transformation would alleviate poverty and unemployment and improve the general standard of living
of those who had been previously marginalized during apartheid.49 Liberation
politics was often aligned with socialist ideals that favored a more even distribution of wealth than capitalism. There is now a disappointed realization that
transformation is held hostage by the black elite who have hijacked the ideals
of the liberation movement in order to bolster actions that are depressingly
close to those of the white elite of apartheid.

iHashiElimhlophe on Transformation
iHashiElimhlophes music makes a strong case for the revision of characteristics and features that are said to define maskanda. In so doing, it calls
into question the validity of any static, rigid ideas of the music that we name,
be it maskanda or any other genre. He breaks away from many of the ideals and rules that dominated maskanda during the previous era (the apartheid era) and that were considered at that time as fundamental to maskandas
discourse. The discourse in maskanda during apartheid was directed quite

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 113

obsessively toward a very particular view of Zuluness. In iHashiElimhlophes

songs this is all but gone. His music is thus relevant and accessible to a range
of South African communities. Its focus is primarily on experiences common
to city dwellers. It not only gives expression to city experience, it also gives
it authority as an authentic South African/Zulu way of being. His music is
set apart from other contemporary maskanda because of the shifting of its
discourse on the location of Zuluness from a rural to an urban space. It is
energetic and more diverse in its musical resources than other maskanda. Its
dance is rooted in slick city clubs rather than in the dusty fields where ingoma
has its roots and its overt celebration of the sensual body transforms it into an
expressive form that recognizes the desires and aspirations of youth.
iHashiElimhlophes music is a challenge to any hardened or prescriptive
view of identity. As a body of music his repertoire dismisses the categories formulated on the basis of this view of identity that was used to divide South Africans
in the past. Nevertheless, he does not abandon this past; there are undisguised,
identifiable links to it. The most prominent link is through the inclusion of the
izibongo style of vocal delivery, but there are also more subtle links as shown in
the suggestion of harmonic principles associated with early Nguni music.
Another aspect of iHashiElimhlophes discourse that separates his music
from other contemporary maskanda as well as from older versions of maskanda is
the view he expresses of money. A large portion of maskanda, past and present, is
about poverty, economic exploitation, and the social disjuncture caused by men
having to seek work far from their homes. Many songs bemoan a life working
on farms or in mines for very little pay. These songs highlight a long-standing
practice that marginalized people on the basis of their race in order to build and
maintain an economic structure that depended on plenty of cheap labor. While
there are songs in his repertoire that speak to these circumstances, there are also
those that suggest a different kind of interaction with the economy. In these
songs iHashiElimhlophe expresses the view that money is evil. The rural poor
listening to these songs would not be expected to see money as the source of evil.
After all, their plight is the consequence of a lack of money. But that is not what
he is saying. He uses the term money to speak about greed, thus distinguishing
between ideals or notions and pragmatics. This reveals a considerable shift in the
way people are positioned in relation to the business of earning a living. While
in situations of economic disempowerment there is little room for any hope of
accumulating much more than a subsistence level of wealth, where people are
empowered to participate in the economy with some measure of agency, they are
more likely to aspire to a lifestyle well beyond that of subsistence. Albeit in rather
a negative light, iHashiElimhlophe alludes here to a different relationship with
the economy to that which existed in the past. He now finds it appropriate to
warn against the attitudes of a consumer-driven society that favors the aspirations

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of the individual over the well-being of communities. The message here is that
there are times when your life will have less value than money. However, unlike
earlier songs that identify groups of exploiters, primarily the white industrialists or
farmers,50 these songs do not present the love of money as a group characteristic
but rather as a general human failing. The perception that human nature is in
essence bad is underpinned by the Christian view that it is as a consequence of its
basic nature that humanity is in need of redemption. This version of humanity is
at odds with the notion of uBuntu and its humanistic ideals of communal responsibility that are so often represented as an inherent feature of an African nature.
iHashiElimhlophes music also offers quite a different discourse on contemporary experience to that which is found in the music of other contemporary maskanda artists because of the way he amalgamates the signifiers of
maskanda with those of other genres. Most maskanda musicians find it difficult
to conceptualize ways of blending different musical styles and processes with
their own. Unlike these musicians iHashiElimhlophe constructs a coherent
discourse that is the product of the fusion of different genres rather than one
that is fragmented by the juxtaposition of different ideals that do not interact
or engage with one another. Other examples of maskanda tend to produce a
discourse that recognizes difference but does not know what to do with it.
As is the case in Phuzekhemisis music on the album Sesihlangene, difference
is presented in a self-conscious and somewhat contrived gesture of change that
undermines the musics coherence and credibility, and as Phuzekhemisi recognizes, this album has not resonated with his audience. iHashiElimhlophe
converts this gesture into meaningful action that produces hope for a society
looking for commonality so that it may unite the diverse sectors that constitute
South African society rather than divide these sectors through a focus on difference. His music is influenced by trends in commercial music. He chooses
popular money-spinners as partners in his version of maskanda. For him this is
not a constraint but an opportunity. He uses this opportunity to gain access to
the present. But he also has a foothold in the realm of tradition and thus contests the age-old polarization of tradition and modernity that often confuses and
distracts from the mission of change in South Africa.

Shwi Nomtekhala
Shwi Nomtekhala is a duo consisting of MandlaIndoda Ntombela (Shwi) and
Uzwe Linduna Magubane (Mtekhala). My concern here is not with Mandla
Ntombela and Uzwe Magubane, but with Shwi and Mtekhala, that is, the
public image of Ntombela and Magubane.
My research resources in this instance are the music on their three
albums, Wangisiza Baba, Angimazi uBaba, and Kukhulu Engakhubona,

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 115

DVD productions of Wangisiza Baba and Kukhulu Engakhubona and the

interviews on those two DVDs, and reports in the press and on the Internet.
I have not interviewed the two musicians who comprise this group. This is a
deliberate decision. Working from the premise that different contexts produce
different kinds of information, I positioned myself differently in relation to
each of the musicians reviewed in this chapter. The information I use here as
my source has been constructed for public consumption. It can thus be seen
as being directed by the expectations that Shwi Nomtekhala and their management have regarding who their audience is and what this audience wants
to see (on DVDs and in live shows) as well as what they want to hear.

Constructions of the Personal

Shwi and Mtekhala had a rural upbringing. Their success as maskanda musicians has taken them into a social setting with opportunities that they would
never have thought possible before. Theirs is now a world of new realities that
are viewed with wonder and apprehension by people from their home.
Many at home did not believe that I was going to fly in an aeroplane. When I
first had to fly to Johannesburg my mother could not believe it. She was happy
but she was also so scared for me! (Shwi, interview DVD, 2005)

They are two unmarried men, beyond the immaturity of adolescence but
with youthful appeal. Both seemingly agree that they might like to get
married now that they have had some success in music. Referring to his
girlfriends, Mtekhala jokingly says he already has two isithembu (wives in
a polygamous marriage). His reluctance to commit to marriage surfaces in
this comment:
I have paid a little [lobola], but it is not finished. I still have to arrange that. There
is one girl I really love. She took the flight with us to Durban from Johannesburg
to do a video. I was so happy for that day because I love her so much. (Ibid.)

It seems that he has been paying lobola for the wrong girl, or perhaps he
intends to follow Zulu tradition and have more than one wife.
The interviews on the DVD version of Wangisiza Baba took place during
their trip to perform at a concert in KwaCeza, in the KwaZulu heartland in
northern KwaZulu-Natal. They make a point of acknowledging their supporters and the change in their circumstances due to the success of their music.
This year everything is going very well. It is not like the years before when
we were always battling (ibid.). Shwi Nomtekhala is a duo of experienced

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singers. Before their maskanda venture they performed together as part of the
popular isicathamiya group Hlanganani. They are, in fact, still part of that
group, but it is impossible to make a living performing in a group with many
members. Mtekhala says he saw the possibility of combining their talents in a
maskanda-style outfit because Shwi was a good guitarist who had played with
other groups such as Izingane Zoma, a successful maskanda group fronted by
three female singers.51 Shwi offers a more mystical explanation for the formation of this duo. This is the story he tells:
Before I was doing this I was involved in robbery. Many of my friends were
doing this. One day I was so hungry I asked one friend for money. He said, No
get your own. But I did not know how so he said, Lets go!
But after that one day I was sleeping and I dreamt that my father was asking
me, What are you doing? Is that a gun? Throw it in the bush. If you do not do
this you will never see me again.
After that I was hit by a car!
I say thank you my father for telling me to throw away the gun and for giving me my guitar. Now I have money from my music. (Ibid.)

The title track of Wangisiza Baba (My father helped me) retells this story:
Bengingomunye obesethembele
esbhamini
Kwafik ubaba kim ebsuku ngilele
Wathi mntanami, wengane yami,
Yimbi lento yokuthi uphathisbhamu.
Babu ungenile mina mini,
Mina ngakuzwa konke okusho kimi
Mina ngiyizwile yonke imiyalo yakho
Wangsiza baba wangibonis indlela.
Wangisiz ubaba wangehlukanisa
nezono zami
Wangisiz ubaba wangehlukanisa
nemkhuba yami emibi.
Wangisiz ubaba wangsusel izono,
Wangfake mbusweni wakhe ngabon izulu
Uyingqongqo Baba...
Ngibhale nami bani!

I was another one who had believed

in guns.
Then my Father came to me in a dream.
He said, My child it is not right to
carry a gun.
Father you came inside me, I heard
everything you said to me.
I heard all your commands.
You helped me by showing me
the right way.
My Father helped me by
separating me from my sins and
my bad habits.
He helped my putting me in
His heaven.
You are the best (the Bomb)
Write my name as well!

The meaning of the term Baba is quite ambiguous in this song, for is not
clear whether he is referring to his biological father as a living person, or to his

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 117

deceased father as an ancestor, or to God. On the DVD version of this song

Shwis body language suggests that he is speaking to God as he frequently
raises his hands to the heavens. The ambiguity of the term Baba prevents
the song from being firmly positioned within a particular religious sensibility. The point that is clearly articulated is that the formation of this group,
Shwi Nomtekhala, offered Shwi redemption from a life of crime, which had
seemed to be his only means of survival.
The snippets of information about their background on their two DVDs
not only highlight their roots in rural KwaZulu-Natal but also their transitory position between rural and urban spaces. Referenced on the Wangisiza
Baba DVD is not a performance at the International Convention Centre in
Durban or any other prestigious venue around South Africa where they have
headlined as the main act, but a concert in a remote rural setting where they
share the stage with a number of other groups. This is a purposeful statement, one that marks a claim on their rural heritage, their relevance to those
still located in a rural place, and their authenticity within the maskanda fold.
This call on rural heritage as a mark of authenticity is common to a lot of
maskanda, and since their musical connection to maskanda is tenuous, this is
used to stake a claim on the genre.
I have included Shwi Nomtekhala in this chapter primarily because of the
commercial success of their music. Their second album, Wangisiza Baba,
sold more than five hundred thousand copies; it is the first maskanda album
to win a South African Music Association (SAMA) award in the category Best
Album of the Year (2006). Their third album Angimazi uBaba was voted the
Best Maskanda Album of the Year in 2007. These two albums also earned
South African Traditional Music Association (SATMA) awards for the Best
Selling Album in 2006 and 2007.
The commercial success of music is not simply an indication of what
people like. It is a measure of what people like in the context of what is on
offer. While there are a number of parties involved in determining what is
on offer, institutions like SAMA and SATMA wield considerable influence
as they endorse and give status to particular artists and their versions of a
genre. By winning the title Best Maskanda Album, Shwi Nomtekhala is given
authority as a representative of the genre, and by winning Best Album with
an album categorized as maskanda, they act as carriers of maskanda into a
broader field of relevance. The process of nomination is in itself dependent
on an understanding of and access to the workings of dominant established
institutions. It is evident that artists connected to major recording labels tend
to be nominated for SAMA awards. Musicians who are not in the mainstream
are excluded largely because of financial constraints but also because of the
inaccessibility of information about the workings of the organization. In order

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to be considered for an award, record companies or individuals have to submit a package of information including curriculum vitae, photographs, press
releases, and a recording released in the year preceding the award ceremony,
and they have to pay an entry fee. By virtue of its process, the SAMA awards
are indeed complicit with well-established record companies in determining
the different features attached to different categories of music, and standards
of excellence in areas of performance, composition, and recording.52 SAMA
awards enhance musicians profiles within the mainstream circles of music
production. In Shwi Nomtekhalas case they certainly have been used to set
them apart from other artists and to substantiate their claim on maskanda
as a genre. These awards have raised their profile in the public domain, and
inevitably this has had an impact on how well known they are and how many
records they sell. Commercial success is a strong driving force behind the
formation of trends. Shwi Nomtekhalas success is an indication of what can
be accepted as maskanda, and it is sure to have some impact on how the genre
evolves.

The Songs
The most important point about Shwi Nomtekhalas music is that their sound
is not what is ordinarily expected from maskanda. While the introductory
section of their music is recognizable as a maskanda-type opening, it soon
becomes apparent that there are significant differences in sound, style, and
form between this music and the music that is generally regarded as maskanda. While each individual point of difference or deviation may have precedence in other versions of maskanda, the combination of these differences
produces a significant shift in the musical constitution of maskanda. Through
the status of their music these new musical procedures are invited into the
fold of definitive features and, as a consequence, offer a significant challenge to established definitions of the genre based on musical procedures,
notions of form, and styles of performance.
In Shwi Nomtekhalas music horizontal layers of sound are pulled into
common purpose through the vertical domination of diatonic harmonies
and because the various parts have little independence. There is a strong
emphasis on the vocals, and these are shaped and organized in a way that is
more strongly connected to mbube and isicathamiya than maskanda primarily
because of the way the vocal parts are harmonized and because of the gentle
and contained style of singing. This could be viewed as much as a pop version of isicathamiya as a variant of maskanda.
The song Wangisiza Baba is one of their most popular songs, and its
main features are typical of much of their music. Here Shwi and Mtekhala

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 119

do not perform as a duo; instead, Shwi takes a soloists role while Mtekhala
leads the higher voices of the chorus so that together Mtekhala and this chorus form the second half of the duo. There is also a small chorus of bass
voices that is positioned two octaves lower than the higher part and is thus
well separated from the other group of singers. The soloist holds the register
in between these two groups. The most prominent vocal harmonies are sixths
and octaves, with the chorus polarities taking the octaves and the inner melody of the soloist following in sixths/thirds. The tonal center (A) is identified
in the opening instrumental passage; the song is clearly in A major. There
is no alternative way of seeing the harmonic frame of this music. It is firmly
diatonic.
The umgqashiyo style of the bass, a style that Erlmann describes as
the meeting place of mbaqanga and Isikhwela Jo (an early version of isicathamiya),53 enhances the connection to isicathamiya. While isicathamiya
and maskanda evolved as responses to marginalization from different sectors
of Zulu society, they shared a common discourse on Zuluness that was understood and expressed through a rural/urban dialectic. Furthermore, in each
instance the rural was presumed to be inextricably interwoven with tradition
and the past, while the urban was understood as rooted in modernity and
the present. In the context of apartheid, this polarization of the rural and
urban suitably marked identity differences between Africans and the whites
through notions of place that conveniently also recalled heritage and cultural
practice.
Like isicathamiya and other earlier versions of maskanda, this rural/urban
dialectic is an important feature of Shwi Nomtekhalas discourse. This dialectic not only effectively establishes this musical heritage for Shwi Nomtekhala,
but also makes it possible to recall the markers of tradition without abandoning a sense of the present. This second consequence of a rural/urban dialectic
is particularly evident in the video versions of their songs where past and present are juxtaposed in the visual images that accompany the sounds of their
songs. On a number of these tracks live performance is positioned in the context of a narrative that takes place in the rural setting of a traditional homestead-type arrangement with a range of images associated with a traditional
lifestyle such as an open fire, a woman grinding grain in a traditional pestle
and mortar, styles of dress that include beads and skins, and wattle and daub
rondavels. I refer to this as a type of traditional homestead arrangement
because there are aspects of these images that betray them as constructions of
reality rather than as actual lived experience. For example, on the DVD version of the song Mabhungu the set is clearly revealed when the ceiling of
a room is included in the camera shots of a meeting of men in a beehive-style
grass hut. Furthermore the kraal-like construction is set against a backdrop of

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painted images of rural life. The rural is thus clearly represented here as an
imagined space, a past that is not readily available in the present. Similarly on
the DVD version of Ngitshele Sthandwa, the homestead setting is filmed
at a picnic site, revealed as such by a table that is hardly a feature of a Zulu
homestead. What might be seen as a careless representation of a particular
past may otherwise be read as recognition of the contemporary ambivalence
of the rural homestead. Through this mode of representation, and unlike a
lot of other maskanda, the rural space is not idealized as a perfect setting for
Zulu life; recalled as representations on the DVD versions of the songs, it
appears rather as a memory that is dislocated from everyday experience. On
the CD version of the track Ukuhlupeka (Starvation), the memory comes
across as a statement of personal experience.
Ukuhlupheka (Starvation)
Kazi khlupheka wavelaphi,
sekungathi ngakuthenga.
Ngamalini sengngaze ngihlupheke nje.
Hmmmm angidlile
Oh kade ngisebenzela lezimpandla
anginalutho
Kwathingelinye ilanga ngihleli ngingena
mali
Ngalala ngingadlile ngacele Nkosini
Zehla izinyembezi ngathandaza.

Starvation, where do you come? Its

like I bought you.
With what money? Do I have to
starve like this?
Having nothing to eat when I go
to sleep
I have been working for this bold
man, I have nothing.
One day I didnt have food so I
prayed to God and slept.

When accompanied by the visual setting on the DVD, the song moves
beyond the personal to comment on community life in a rural setting. The
rural setting of this song is not constructed; it is an actual homestead. However, this homestead is made up of disintegrating huts and appears as an
uninhabited space. The emptiness is revealed through a lack of any of the
signifiers of everyday lifethere is no washing, no mess, no cooking, and not
one chicken in the yard. There are, however, some people. A small group of
ordinary people are drawn into the performance to sing and dance along with
Shwi Nomtekhala. The story that is communicated is that while there are still
people located in this setting, it is no longer a place that is functionalit is a
place, but not a home.
This is indeed quite a dismal pronouncement on rural life. This song is the
most overt of all their songs in its expression of a dramatic shift in discourse on
the relationship between contemporary Zulu experience and rural life. While
rural life is represented as part of contemporary everyday Zulu experience,
its dysfunctionality and desperation leave little room for the idealized rural

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 121

experience that is so often recalled through a focus on the past. This shift is
emphasized through the combination of the visual images, the lyrics, and the
music.
The music is firmly controlled by the harmonic rhythm. The different
parts are coordinated to respond to the harmonic shape of the music. The
song opens with a maskanda-type introduction where the maskanda ideal is
referenced in the ornamentation of melodic fragments; there is a clear break
before the second part of the introduction, which is markedly slower and now
straightforwardly melodic. The maskanda realm is recalled here primarily
through the concertina, but it is soon swamped by the other parts. The guitar is played in a picking style, one that does not have the rhythmic flexibility ordinarily associated with maskanda-style guitar but is controlled by the
movement of the melody, which in turn responds to the harmonic shifts. The
ornamentation of the melody in the picking-guitar parts resonates with a wide
range of popular folk styles; in this sense, it is a style that has a measure of anonymity as it could come from any number of places across the globe. Similarly
the singing style is not exclusively Zulu. This is most notable in the section
where they sing in vocables rather than words. (Probably as a consequence
of my musical background this sounds to me remarkably like Paul Simons
Graceland, itself a mixture of Zulu and American folk music.) There are
moments when the song connects with a Zulu place as in the small sections
where the high kicks associated with ingoma dance are called on occasion
by the percussion section, but these do not have any significant effect on the
path of the music. It continues unabated. The musical logic and coherence of
this song is dependent on principles that inform a number of different popular performance styles aired in the public domain. The musical discourse is
removed from an idealized rural past and relocated to the realities of the presentone characterized here by poverty and decay.
Shwi Nomtekhala marks a considerable shift in maskanda performance. For
people like Shiyani Ngcobo this is not maskandaNo, this is more mbaqanga
because of the guitar, and where is the izibongo?54 Nevertheless the popularity
of Shwi Nomtekhalas music does reflect a general acceptance of their version
of maskanda. This suggests that people no longer hold rigid views on what constitutes maskanda, or perhaps they are just not that concerned about genre designation and simply enjoy the music if it resonates with their own experience.
That Shwi Nomtekhala go out of their way to acknowledge a traditional Zulu
setting is clear. However, rather than presenting this as a fundamental habitat
for Zulu consciousness, it is positioned more pragmatically as a problematic
arena where many live out extreme economic dislocation.
Shwi Nontekhalas gentle, isicathamiya style of vocal delivery contributes
to the image of masculinity that pervades their music. Unlike the warrior

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images conjured up particularly by the accompanying chorus is Phuzekhemisis music, masculinity here is marked by ordinariness. It is firmly located in
the present. While this present is plagued by poverty and AIDS, it is to some
extent redeemed by a belief in Jesus, for example, Asithadenezi(Let us
pray), and in love relationships with women and Ngitshele Sthandwa (Tell
me, my love). These love relationships are presented in gentle, noncompetitive terms and with the vulnerability and dependence that is felt by a wooing
lover.
Shwi Nomtekhalas version of maskanda has considerable appeal, particularly with young people from rural areas. Perhaps this is because these
young people have not grown up under the direct control of apartheid and
are to some extent liberated from a heavily prescriptive past. The issues that
Shwi Nomtekhala raise in their lyrics are relevant in the present in which they
live, and the music that accompanies it is flavored with sensuous, feel good
sounds that offer sufficient relief from the harsh realities of the experience of
poverty, AIDS, and uncertain opportunities in the marketplace.

Mens Maskanda in the Context of Transformation

This section is more analytical than descriptive, and the intention here is
to discuss and debate the nature of transformation in post-apartheid South
Africa as it is expressed and engaged in contemporary maskanda performed
by men. The concern here is with the music of the four case studies presented
above as a body of practice representative of a range of approaches to maskanda performance and with the relationship between this body of practice
and maskanda from the apartheid era. A large part of the discussion is thus
comparative, with comparisons being drawn around three central issues:
The most commonly asserted notions of Zulu identity that are
aired in and through maskanda
The themes that give expression to the nature of Zulu experience
The aesthetic ideals that motivate how maskanda is both made and
received

Theory Revisited
Before I engage with the main task of this section there are some theoretical issues that need airing, primarily the issues of identity construction;
what is embraced in the term experience; the relationship between agency
and structure; and the dynamics of transformation and the concomitant

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 123

expectations of democracy in South Africa today. I also revisit Bourdieus

notion of habitus and its usefulness in conceptualizing this body of maskanda
as a location of being and experience.
The notion of identity has provided a crucial hook for cultural theorists
rooted in a variety of disciplines over a number of decades. Initially interest
in the concept of identity took shape as a postcolonial response to the making of the other in imperialist discourse. Western ideologies were seen to
service colonial domination and were challenged as constructs of power that
undermined and disempowered the colonized. Explaining Orientalism as
a political doctrine willed over the Orient because the Orient was weaker
than the West (Said 1978, 204), Edward Said clearly marked identity as an
arena of political contestation. Other theorists like Mudimbe (1988, 1994)
and Appiah (1992), who were concerned more particularly with representations of Africa, highlight the relationship between western constructions of
Africa and those emanating from Africans themselves. Their contributions
reveal the impact of western hegemony on the making of African identities
and strongly underpin Terry Eagletons (2004) point that the parameters of
identity are constructed from outside the subject. As a symptom of the social
environment, constructions of identity must inevitably carry the dynamics
of various discourses on power that mark their time. Identities are thus constantly being made and remade as individuals respond to their ever-shifting
social and political worlds. It is this process that constitutes identity. The recognition of identity as a process rather than a thing not only challenges the
essentializing techniques of colonial-style discourse but also poses a threat
to any formulation of being that gives credence to the idea that national or
ethnic identities are fundamental essences that are inherited at birth rather
than assumed through experience.
So what is meant by this term experience? The concept of experience
derives not just from nature or the world (the things we believe cause the
events we perceive) but also from the formal activities of thought (Eze 2008,
14). It is a conglomerate of subjective reality, objective reality, and the cognitive processes that position the one in relation to the other. Experience is
made up of the things that happen around us, and how we respond to them.
The same events can thus be experienced in different ways depending on
how they are thought about. Experience is an accumulation of responses to
events such that an accumulation of histories of experience impacts on experiences of the here and now. Experience is conceptualized or made sense of
(translated into thought) through the organization of events using generalizations to produce a class, type or picture of experience (ibid., 17). My concern with post-apartheid experience can be described as a concern with the
events in maskanda musicians lives and their responses to these events,

124|Chapter 4

with their music functioning as something of a mediator between the two.

I see musical discourse as both creating and responding to experience; it is
both action and reaction. In this project I look at music as (and in relation to)
social process (DeNora 2003, 39).55 DeNoras explanation of the relationship
between society and music (a relationship that can be conceptualized in the
same way as the relationship between agency and structure) suggests that this
relationship should not be thought of as an interaction between two separate
entities but as two interwoven constituents of the dynamic domain of experience. In this chapter my intention is to move beyond the domain of individual
experience and to try to understand social experience, that is, what is going
on in the post-apartheid world of contemporary maskanda musicians, or put
simply, the big picture. The big picture should, however, not be seen as an
overview of social experience but rather a consolidation of broadly representative individual perspectives on social experience. The focus here is on those
perspectives that are performed in and through maskanda.
Like identity, the notion of agency has been problematized and theorized
from a range of different perspectives. Individual agency is understood with
varying degrees of skepticism about the notion of free choice, as inevitably
connected to structure, that is, the total environment of thought and action
in which individuals live.
Human beings constantly remake and alter their worlds in the process of living
in themand in this sense have agency, to a greater or lesser degree depending
on complicated and unpredictable combinations of factors involving the interaction of chance, opportunity, context and capacities. (Carle 2005, 379)

Agency is thus not something that is had or not had; it is released or experienced in degrees, through a relationship between individuals and every
aspect of the world they live in. It is always contingent upon the conditions
of society and past constructions of that society which are outside the control
of individuals. However, while agency is contingent upon the conditions of
society, society is always in the process of being made and remade by the
individuals who are part of it (Giddens 1990). In this making of society, inevitably there are choices to be made, but the vision of agency is not equivalent
to claims based on notions of choice (Carle 2005, 379). Nor is it simply a
question of autonomy because both choice and autonomy must always be
seen as relative concepts. Viewed in an Althusserian way as responses to the
call of those who police the social environment (1984),56 and dependent on
the horizons of individual perception as expressed in ieks parallax (2006),
agency is the action that comes out of individual investment in the social
environment. Issues of agency are not there to be measured, for indeed there

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 125

are many ways in which agency may be understood and experienced. The
measurement of agency is thus not universal but relative.
Bourdieus notion of habitus offers a less polarized vision of agency and
structure than that of many of his predecessors. While his concern is primarily with the impact of habitus on agents rather than the other way round,
the notion of habitus depends on it being occupied by agents and thus automatically implies reciprocity. Agents and habitus are positioned in a reflexive
relationship where a shift in one cannot but produce a shift in the other. Thus
the action associated with agency would in fact be better thought of as interaction and the constraints on action associated with structure might be better
thought of as permutations of experience that always elicit a response (even
if the response is silence); either way, what is particularly important for the
discussion here is that agency and structure are inextricably intertwined and
any dualism of thought will simply result in a proverbial chicken-and-egg type
debate.
My concern here is with maskanda as a response to the sociopolitical
worlds of two different eras. Music making is a form of agency; it is a kind of
action that requires those who make it to choose some sounds, lyrics, styles,
and such features over others. These choices are influenced and directed by
a number of different forces that we may think of as those sourced outside
each musicians person in the constructs of society that tell us what to think
and how to be, as well as those that come from within each person, that is,
the internalized experiences that produce a complex of sensibilities that give
rise to attitudes, ideas, behavior, traditions, and rituals. In some instances the
dominant forces in the social environment and the political economy radically diminish any distinction between forces from within the individual and
forces from the environment. Where the world in which maskanda is located
is seen to have a strong impact on what people feel they should be doing if
they compose or perform maskanda, individual agency is seen as constrained
and where there is less sense of prescription from outside and a greater variety
of choices are made, individual agency is viewed as more liberated.
While individual agency is understood and experienced differently in different historical moments and different cultural settings, there is no doubt
that any formalized prescription through the institutions of government has a
radical impact on individual agency. Before the first democratic elections in
1994, prescriptions of identity based on race and ethnicity and the concomitant controls on action were the order of the day. The structures of society
were crudely stamped on the creative aspirations of maskanda musicians; in
this era maskanda musicians saw their project as making Zulu music for Zulu
people living in Zulu spaces. Any resistance to these ascriptions of Zuluness
would not have come from those playing within the maskanda domain, for at

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this point maskanda was made and understood within a very narrow perception of what it meant to be Zulu.
The first democratic election heralded a new era. Notions of democracy are interwoven with issues of agency. An individuals vote is seen as a
form of participation in the structure and policies of government. Much is
expected of democracy; as John Dryzek notes, Democracy is today a nearuniversal validating principle for political systems (2005, 218). It is ideally
supposed to devolve power to the people so that government acts as an agent
of society and is accountable to those it represents. The relationship between
government and the society is, of course, shaped by many other factors well
beyond the scope of this relationship. Globalization has had a massive impact
on the workings of democracy. The social democracy that might have been
expected from the three-way alliance between the African National Congress,
COSATU, and the Communist Party quickly faded as neoliberal democratic
principles were seen as a necessary compromise between political liberation
and economic stability.57 For many who are poor and lacking in skills and
education the ideals of democracy are held hostage to capitalist economic
principles that are notorious for their service to the rich at the expense of the
poor. Thabo Mbekis view that the new democracy should not turn shy of an
economically elite class of black entrepreneurs, who are the beneficiaries of
the marriage of neoliberal economic policies and transformation ideals, has
raised eyebrows among those who had hoped for a more egalitarian approach
to transformation.58 Maskanda musicians like many others expecting to cash
in their vote, often express their disappointment at the lack of change in their
circumstances as a kind of betrayal. For them transformation is experienced
as a cosmetic shift in the color of the elite who control the flow of money,
rather than a significant shift in the fundamental ideology driving the way
society is structured and how it works. Like Neo Simuntanyi many see the
post-apartheid state as a permutation of the apartheid capitalist system that
perpetuates and maintains a small group of economic elite. As such, The
state is rather divorced from peoples daily struggles concerning itself with
the technical management of capitalist economy and ensuring the steady
flow of investment capital for the benefit of national and international capital (Simuntanyi 2006, 5). The state thus still has a considerable amount of
control over the course of peoples lives; the difference is that now economic
marginalization takes precedence over racial marginalization.

Maskanda and Transformation

Maskanda performance during the apartheid era was clearly marked as the
prerogative of those South Africans classified as Zulu. The expression of

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 127

an ethnic identity was a crucial part of its language and intention. Furthermore, despite its relatively recent birth, maskanda was packaged as traditional
music. One might be tempted to assume this to be an indication of a general
acceptance of tradition as a practice that responds to change and is reinvented
to suit changing life circumstances, and not one that is passed down from
one generation to the next, resisting any mutations. This is, however, not the
case. During this period the notion of tradition was attached to maskanda
in order to exert and justify static notions of what it meant to be Zulu. It was
one of many mechanisms of control used to mark and contain Zulu peoples
identity and the range of ways in which they could make sense of their lives.
As a consequence of the overwhelming dominance of western hegemony, a
uniform and grossly oversimplified view of Zulu identity and ideals had a
strong influence on public constructions of Zulu ethnicity. Thus, ironically,
a prescribed common purpose for those of the same ethnic heritage that gave
credence to the idea that there were fundamental (and irreconcilable) differences between ethnic groups was bought by those who suffered exclusion
both from the economy and from the institutions of politics. In addition, a
religious sensibility based on ancestor worship set the stage for the opportunistic appropriation of notions of obligation to those of ones lineage, thus
facilitating a paradoxical construction of human experience that is marked by
an excessive focus on difference when thinking of ethnic groupings and an
excessive focus on sameness when thinking of people from within the same
ethnic group. What then was this notion of Zulu identity?
Zulu identity was referenced primarily as an historical identity. The past
was constructed in an idealized form that bore down heavily on the present.
It was reinvented as the place of realness where an archetypical Zuluness
resided. Two prominent representatives of maskanda in the apartheid era are
Phuzushukela and Phuzekhemisi. While Phuzushukela was afforded iconic
status during the first stages of the commercialization of maskanda, Phuzekhemisi acceded to this position at the height of apartheid oppression. Phuzushukelas lyrics are presented in a traditional idiom both on account of their
content and their turn of phrase. Images of rural life dominate; in fact, he avoids
any substantive expression of experience outside this setting. Diviners, muti
magic,59 and inyanga,60 women dressed in izidwaba,61 lobola,62 and polygamous
marriage relationships all feature strongly in his lyrics. His lyrics are exclusively
in Zulu and his metaphoric language is dependent on an insiders knowledge
of the conventions of Zulu poetry. Through his narrative on place and time he
locates Zulu identity in a rural setting that has obvious and visible continuity
with the customs and traditions of a precolonial Zulu way of life.
As the acclaimed maker of the Zulu nation, Shaka featured prominently in
the archetype of Zulu identity widely publicized during apartheid (Hamilton

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1998; Mar 1992, 1995). Consequently a popularized notion of the Zulu warrior wheedled its way into cultural practices like maskanda. Maskanda artists
gave expression to this view of Zulu identity through the inclusion of a dance
troupe that embodied strong warrior images in their dress, dance, and singing styles. Dressed in skins, armed with shields and spears, and singing in unison, these dancers presented choreographed dance routines that demonstrated
disciplined and well-coordinated subservience to a group identity that typifies
regiments of warfare. While a large portion of Phuzushukelas lyrics are structured as a challenge and assert the kind of male prowess that is typically associated with Zulu warriors, it is Phuzekhemisis pre-1994 repertoire (and indeed
a considerable amount of it that followed) that epitomizes this performance
style. Here the chorus/dance section plays a dominant role, often overwhelming the soloist as can be seen in his most successful song of this era, Imbizo.
Phuzekhemisis public profile as an icon of maskanda performance has given
his version of maskanda significant sway, and many aspiring maskanda musicians have followed his approach to the genre.63 Nevertheless, this essentialized
and historicized representation of Zulu identity is perhaps best understood as a
response to the potency of political rhetoric on Zulu identity and the complicity of the music industry with Zulu ethic nationalism rather than as a reflection of peoples ideological stance on ethnicity or their lived experience of their
Zuluness. In their study of a group of Zulu peoples notions of their Zuluness
conducted in Umlazi in the early 1990s, Catherine Campbell, Gerhard Mar,
and Cherryl Walker found little evidence of Mangosuthu Buthelezis version
of Zulu identity in the perceptions of urban residents.64 But, as they point out,
perhaps these ideals had more resonance with Zulu peoples lived experience in
rural areas (Campbell, Mar, and Walker 1995).
Phuzekhemisis pre-1994 repertoire maintained continuity with Phuzushukelas ideals but with a more overt political flavor. Carrying the banner of
the rural poor he clearly marked his lyrics as a discourse on Zulu experience,
albeit one that resonated with many of the rural poor more generally. From a
Zulu nationalist perspective this resonance signaled a leadership role for Zulu
nationalism in broader discourses on African nationalism, but that is another
issue. Phuzekhemisis politicized view of Zulu identity and experience captures two important but not entirely separate features of Zulu experience during this era. Firstly, notions of individual agency were largely absent; agency
was sought only through alliance with a group. Individuals felt they had very
little control over their lives. A government-structured society had usurped
individual agency; all that was left was to try to survive within the precincts of
its control. Songs from this era often speak of marginalization, poverty, and
broken family relationships with resignation. Secondly, political constructs
of power controlled and indeed dominated the course of individuals lives. In

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 129

Phuzekhemisis songs government as an institution is seen as being responsible for creating the social world in which Zulu people were trapped through
its oppressive legislation that restricted their access to economic and political
power.
It is clear from South Africas history of political oppression that the parameters of individual experiences were determined politically according to their
position in relation to those in power. Job descriptions, places of residence,
movement around the country, and relationships were defined both racially
and ethnically under apartheid. The state and its agents impinged on every
aspect of Zulu peoples lives. It is no wonder then that during this era music
that was produced and received as Zulu music was informed in its constructions of this identity by the images and ideas paraded and vehemently
defended in the political arena.
In maskanda of more recent times there is a marked dissolution of strong
displays of ethnic nationalist sentiment. While each of the four musicians
presented here to mark the dominant versions of contemporary maskanda
offer different responses to the way Zulu identity was constructed during
the apartheid era, together they show that this version of Zuluness has very
limited resonance with their contemporary experience. Even a musician
like Phuzekhemisi who seems somewhat torn between the perpetuation of
an idealized and historicized view of Zulu identity, on the one hand, and
contemporary experience, on the other, attempts to engage with alternative
views of Zuluness. While of the four musicians studied here he is the most
firmly bound to older ideals and tends to locate his audience in a rural setting
where ethnic nationalist versions of Zulu identity are thought to have greater
resonance, his 2007 CD, Sesihlangene, reveals not only an uncertainty about
the relevance of this version of Zuluness but also significant deviation from
past discourse on identity politics where ethnicity reigned supreme over any
other identities. What is striking about the music on this CD is that, while it
demonstrates an acknowledgment of different group identities, it is clumsy in
its expression of any interaction between them; they actually remain separate,
and he is unable to construct a coherent musical discourse that amalgamates
the different features associated with each of them. The music appears contrived in order to appeal to an ideal of a unity that in fact cannot be imagined
with any lucidity.
A conscious effort appears to have been made in the construction of Shwi
Nomtekhalas public image to position them as relevant to rural KwaZuluNatal. During apartheid, maskanda with this kind of association would most
often have been assumed to carry ethnic nationalist affiliation. Shwi Nomtekhalas musical discourse is, however, a far cry from an expression of ethnic
nationalist sentiment or from the powerful warrior images of a strong Zulu

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nation. Here, the image of Zulu as warrior is most often replaced by Zulu
as lover. This also represents a significant shift in the discourse on Zuluness. During apartheid there was little room for the recognition of black male
sexuality; essentialized as a symbol of promiscuity and form of violence, it was
after all regarded as a threat to the fabric of decent society. However, here the
lover wooing his woman is presented to charm and to entertain.65 In the past
this kind of imaging would have been offensive not only to white supremacists but also to much of black society where strong taboos were attached
to open displays of sexuality and affection. In Shwi Nomtekhalas discourse
the ambivalence of rural communities in contemporary life renders the Zulu
warrior ineffectual. Thus even though Shwi Nomtekhala assert a connection
with rural communities, they have little to say that would position ethnicity as
a primary identity dominating and informing all others.
Nor does iHashiElimhlophe show any interest in ethnic nationalism or
warrior images in his music. In fact he has purposefully and firmly ensconced
his music in an environment that is full of difference. His discourse is imbued
with the energy of the post-apartheid South African city, a space in which Zuluness is constantly being reshaped. Here the boundaries of Zulu identity have
been stretched to embrace a range of different experiences that produce new
ways of understanding what it means to be Zulu. While iHashiElimhlophe
does make claims on tradition,66 calling on people to remember their past, in
some instances (like Phuzekhemisi) he reveals some uncertainty about how
his idea of the past can be reconciled with the present, for in those songs
where the lyrics focus on tradition directly, the music is often empty of substance. For the most part, however, his musical discourse recontextualizes
the images associated with tradition and the past so that they are now an integral part of modernity and the present. This musical enactment of a sense of
continuity between the past and the present effectively reclaims the past and
repositions contemporary experience in relation to it. This is quite a different
picture to that presented in maskanda of the apartheid era. Underpinned by
the disjuncture inherent in the labor migrancy system that dominated Zulu
peoples lives during that time, maskanda from the apartheid era keeps the
past and the present in two quite clearly different domains.
iHashiElimhlophes music presents an alternative view of Zulu experience beyond the disjuncture of labor migrancy and shows that different realities are emerging as people lay claim to a place of permanence in the cities.
iHashiElimhlophe is indeed one of the most successful unifiers of the older
ideals of maskanda with other popular performance styles usually associated with the city. His is a designer (some might say commodified) version
of Zuluness, one that can be accepted by city people, particularly those of
younger generations.

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 131

In contrast to iHashiElimhlophes discourse that gives credence to the idea

that Zulu experience is no longer in the grips of a disjunctive labor migrancy
system, Shiyani Ngcobos discourse reveals disjuncture and dislocation as a
deeply entrenched way of life. His music does not position his identity in any
kind of comfort zone; instead, it is as a consequence of the coherence of his
musical language that his identity is positioned in a permanent state of inbetweenness. To be sure Shiyani Ngcobos birth into a life of disjuncture far
outweighs any mobilization of Zuluness from the ethnic nationalist front as
the formative influence on his perception. While as an individual he has little
interest in his ethnicity as a primary feature of his identity, it is on account of
his Zuluness and his blackness that he and his forefathers were pushed into
an in-between world. His musical discourse shows that the weight of exclusions constructed and enacted in the past has not been lifted in any significant way. His life continued as beforea constant battle for survival.
Expressions of identity are closely tied to experience. Phuzekhemisi,
iHashiElimhlophe, Shwi Nomtekhala, and Shiyani Ngcobo each present
their identity differently and thus reveal a different range of experiences.
Together they show that the uniformity of discourse on identity that characterized maskanda during apartheid is breaking down in contemporary renditions of the style. Not only is the spectrum of Zulu experience widening,
but the way Zulu identity is conceptualized is also changing. Identity is no
longer expressed as a single entity, but rather takes shape as a composite conglomeration of many different selves that are not always compatible with
one another. During apartheid the primacy afforded ethnic identity produced
the illusion of Zulu identity as an already made, closed construction. In a
post-apartheid world people are beginning to recognize and give expression
to their many selves. While during apartheid ethnic nationalist versions of
identity had a strong impact on public constructions of identity, in a postapartheid world other discourses now hold greater sway.
As a body of practice post-apartheid maskanda gives expression to a broader
range of experiences and attitudes in both its lyrical content and musical style
than during the apartheid era. While isiZulu is still the primary language of
maskanda lyrics, and the lyrics of contemporary maskanda songs are often
infused with a poetic idiom similar to that of maskanda of the previous era,
there are now also examples where the lyrics include sections that are sung
in English and other South African languages. English does not render the
same melodic inflections as Zulu and thus has a significant impact on the
sound and flow of the music.67 While there are relatively few songs that have
lyrics in English in post-apartheid maskanda, during the apartheid years the
use of English in maskanda was unimaginable. Apart from the use of English,
another mark of change in post-apartheid maskanda is the use of terminology

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associated with contemporary life, for example, when speaking of the prevalence of violence in everyday life Shwi Nomtekhala ask, I wonder if Satan
has sent an SMS, and addressing a number of different girls they say to each,
Forgive me; I thought it was you who were destroying me, but it was Speed
Trap (AIDS), and Bhekumuzi Luthuli complains, Girls will treat you like
an ATM.68
Rather ironically, AIDS does not feature as a prominent topic in the lyrics of maskanda despite its overbearing presence in so many peoples lives.
When it does feature it is usually by allusion rather than in direct commentary. AIDS is frequently regarded as a particularly sensitive issue. Most maskanda musicians have been personally affected in some way by the tragedy
of AIDS and appear to be uncomfortable with exposing their experience too
obviously. The pandemic remains covert, hidden by fear and suspicion. Fearing rejection and alienation, and suspicious of witchcraft as the cause of disease, maskanda musicians are wary of expressing any direct association with
the problem.
During apartheid, peoples private experiences were often at odds with the
ready-made constructions of Zuluness that they were called upon to assume.
While images of a strong, dominant, and powerful masculinity were infused
in maskanda of this era through dress and dance, singing styles and izibongo,
the lyrics very often told the story of masculinity as a fractured, disempowered, and ineffectual identity. Divided by apartheid policies that prevented
men and women from setting up home together in the cities where there
was work, men and women often had competing anxieties around survival in
different worlds. Maskanda musicians often gave expression to the unstable
relationships between men and the women who were left behind in the home
space. For men, longing for home was wracked with anxiety as all too often
this longing was met with disappointment and emptiness as wives and lovers had moved on to new relationships and alliances. The exploitation of the
labor migrancy system was not restricted to the fact that men were forced to
work for very little pay; it was a system that eroded family life and a sense of
common purpose for men and women. Ironically it was women who were
most often held accountable for the disintegration of the family and intimate
relationships between men and women. Women are often represented as
betraying their men and also their tradition. The disempowerment and in fact
emasculinization of men during apartheid seeps through mens words of
reprimand against women, commonly voiced in maskanda music of this era.
By contrast, while there are still examples that frame relationships between
men and women as narratives of betrayal in contemporary maskanda, there
are also songs that capture a different perspective, indeed one that did not feature before. In a number of songs, most notably those by iHashiElimhlophe

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 133

and Shwi Nomtekhala, love relationships are often celebrated or negotiated

through sentiments of passion and desire, commitment and loyalty. In this
body of songs even the womanizer features without any direct commentary in
the lyrics that might suggest that his pursuit of women is his right on account
of his Zulu heritage. iHashiElimhlophe bemoans the loss of his sweethearts
(muntuza) as an individual, not as a Zulu man.69
One of the more striking general features of difference that comes out of a
comparison between maskanda of the apartheid era and that of the post-apartheid era is that the latter is gradually moving away from an affiliation with the
ideals and expectations of so-called traditional music, which is thought of as
a cultural practice linked to a particular group. More and more maskanda is
being produced as entertainment that is simply fun; a feature more commonly
associated with music marketed as popular music rather than that which is
marketed as traditional music. A revival of the idea of music for pleasure that
was evident in township music in the 1930s and 1940s began close on the
heels of the 1994 elections, most obviously in the popular township style of
kwaito. In some instances it is through the incorporation of the pounding
beats of kwaito that maskanda musicians like iHashiElimhlophe lay claim
to pleasure. This is indeed not the only way that this right is expressed; Shwi
Nomtekhala, for example, presents a mellower version of music for pleasure.
While the lyrics of a fair number of Shwi Nomtekhalas songs deal with hardship, the music sounds like feel good music with its predictable rhythms,
clearly balanced form, and gentle, warm consonant harmonies. This is most
obvious in examples where the music replicates the stylistic characteristics or
even the melodic ideas of other artists such as Paul Simon and Marvin Gaye.
There are also songs with lyrics that speak about pleasure or simply having a
good time, but that do not have any notable musical signifiers of pleasure, as
their musical language is much the same as other maskanda songs that focus
on other issues.
Commenting on the political consciousness of Soweto residents in the
early post-apartheid years, Adam Ashforth notes a significant shift away from
an intense political awareness to a quest for economic advancement. On June
16, 1990, fifty thousand people crammed into Jabulani Amphitheatre to commemorate the anniversary of the Soweto uprising. Speaking of post-apartheid
Soweto,70 Ashforth notes, Fifty-five thousand people attended the opening
of the new Deon electrical goods store on the outskirts of Soweto. A week
earlier, three hundred attended the official June 16th rally (Ashforth 1998,
508). Ashforths observations suggest that only three or four years after the
first democratic election in South Africa people in Soweto had substituted
political activism with consumerism. Although this shift in mind-set took
much longer to filter into the maskanda domain, now some fifteen years after

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those elections, it is becoming more evident. iHashiElimhlophes music that

transforms maskanda with the rhythms and electronic gimmicks of kwaito
celebrates the right to have fun, and at the same time it links the experience
of fun to a city location. By drawing on the sounds associated with city nightclubs rather than rural traditional celebrations he locates fun in the pleasure
haunts of young city adults, a sector of society that most easily falls prey to
the ideals of consumerism. This is quite a radical translocation of maskanda
from the world of conservative traditionalists (the older generation or the
parents) to that of trend-conscious modernists (the younger generation or
the children). The changing dynamics of contemporary South African cities offer maskanda a new context as commercially produced popular music,
one where its success depends on its capacity to resonate with as many people
as possible. In this setting maskanda is no longer a designated Zulu practice. While maskanda has indeed been subject to commercial trends for some
time, during apartheid its label of traditional music made sure that it was
marketed essentially as Zulu music; in post-apartheid South Africa it is beginning to make a play for a broader target market. Furthermore, as it draws
different sounds, styles, and languages into its discourse, it also engages with
the utopian ideal of social unity as it seeks resonances with a wider range of
South Africans. By playing for pleasure it becomes accessible to a wider range
of people, offering a cross-cultural meeting place that was not possible before.
Another important point of difference between contemporary maskanda
and that of the apartheid era is the inclusion in the former of lyrics that
express a Christian religious sensibility. Marking different religious perspectives and with varying degrees of clarity, the repertoire of the four case-study
musicians includes songs either praising God or appealing for Gods help in
terms associated with Christian perceptions of a divine being. This is a prominent feature, particularly of Shwi Nomtekhalas repertoire. In these songs the
lyrics are strongly underpinned by music that pays homage to the sounds and
styles of traditional western hymnody, through a tonal system that is firmly
diatonic and through the arrangement of the various parts so that set intervallic relationships are maintained. Like western hymnody their music confirms
unanimity of purpose for its community of followers. iHashiElimhlophes
songs with a religious content are also clearly Christian in their perspective.
However, he presents a different version of Christianity, one that is most commonly associated with evangelical forms of the religion. Through the fusion
of maskanda with gospel styles prevalent in music practiced in Christian
evangelical churches,71 iHashiElimhlophe not only gives expression to his
own personal involvement in Christianity as a member of the Full Gospel
Church,72 but also he capitalizes on the popularity of both gospel music and
this version of Christianity.

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 135

With its captive market in the churches, gospel musics commercial success tells of the appeal both of the religion and of the music. In general maskanda musicians make a bid for a part of gospel musics success primarily by
including gospel songs alongside maskanda songs on their albums. In these
instances gospel songs are simply juxtaposed with songs that are presented in
the maskanda mode. In fact there are few examples of a fusion of maskanda
and gospel music. For the most part the interaction between the two genres
is limited to maskanda musicians singing gospel music rather than a fusion
of the two genres that would produce either a gospel version of maskanda or
a maskanda version of gospel, or indeed something quite new. Nevertheless,
notionally the fusion has great appeal as may be seen by the increasing number
of compilation CDs that feature quite a wide range of maskanda musicians.
Unlike iHashiElimhlophe, who clearly marks his religious songs as Christian, Shiyani Ngcobo expresses some uncertainty about his religious position.
This is particularly evident in the song Izangoma. Here Shiyani expresses
a preference for Zionists (the version of Christianity that he has experienced)
over traditional mediators between the living and the spirit world on the basis
that the Zionists appeals for divine intervention in the lot of the living (in this
instance, he is speaking of illness) are more effective than those of the izangoma. This song suggests that Shiyanis religious sensibility is motivated by
pragmatics rather than ideology, for his choice of one practice over the other
is dependent on the efficacy of each practice in his own life. While one might
be tempted to view his choice as one of Christian ideology over that of ancestor worship, the ideology of the Zionist church is in fact itself something of a
pragmatic compromise between the two. Shiyani Ngcobo makes a distinction
between the two, but in fact the only reason that he can follow the Zionist version of Christianity is because it recontextualizes rather than refutes ancestor
worship. Rather than showing any fundamental shift in his religious ideology, Shiyanis leaning toward Christianity through the Zionist church simply
substantiates another rather negative view of the practitioners of traditional
Zulu religion, namely, that many izangoma (particularly those in the cities)
are simply con artists posing as the real thing, that they are opportunists who
make a living out of other peoples fear and misfortune.
Songs that could be interpreted as expressing a Christian view of God
are scarce and ambiguous in Phuzekhemisis repertoire; indeed, there are not
many songs that deal with religious sentiments of any sort. In his songs there
is nothing to suggest that the position most often taken in maskanda of the
apartheid era, namely, that the ancestors are the primary mediators between
the living and a Supreme Being (Unkulukulu), has been abandoned. It may
well be that he does not sing about religious ideology because indeed it is not
challenged in the communities that he so passionately defends.

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As in maskanda of the apartheid era, there are songs in the post-apartheid

repertoire that speak either directly or by implication about ancestor worship. Unlike maskanda of the apartheid era, expression of religious ideals has
expanded to include:
songs that marry notions of ancestor worship with Christian formulations of a supreme being and mark their discourse with instruments such as the vuvuzela and performance styles associated with
the Shembe church
songs that present an evangelical version of Christianity and mark
their discourse with the sounds and styles of gospel music
songs that offer a more conservative approach to Christianity
through the sounds and styles that draw on western hymnody
The most striking example of the first approach does not come out of the
domain of male maskanda, but from the 2009 SAMA award winner, Imithente, a female-fronted group that features in the next chapter; the other two
approaches seem to have greater resonance with men.
Post-apartheid maskanda, like that of the apartheid era, includes a number
of songs that deal with jealousy and witchcraft. In these songs ill fortune is
very often accounted for as a consequence of witchcraft; the notion of witchcraft is commonly regarded as a reasonable explanation for sickness, death,
poverty, problems in relationships, and most other ills that people may suffer.
In his study on witchcraft in Soweto in 1997 Adam Ashforth shows a connection between jealousy borne of intense competition for limited resources and
a belief in witchcraft. He also shows that witchcraft is not a notion that is necessarily regarded as at odds with Christian beliefs. Indeed in one of the stories
that Ashforth tells, it was a prophet of the Zion Christian Church [who] told
the youngest son that the death [of his mother] was an inside jobwitchcraft perpetrated by a family member staying in the same house (1998, 512).
This same informant suggests that witchcraft is becoming more prevalent in
post-apartheid South Africa perhaps because people are no longer holding
the oppressive apartheid regime responsible for their misfortune: Theres no
more of that old story of Im sore because of apartheid, because of a white
man. Now its: Im like this because of my neighbour (Ashforth 1998, 513).
Witchcraft is indeed quite a common theme in post-apartheid maskanda but
certainly in male versions of maskanda from this era there is little evidence
to suggest that it is any more prevalent than it was during apartheid. Female
versions of maskanda present rather a different picture. In these songs witchcraft is a very prominent theme. Bearing in mind the connection that Ashforth makes between witchcraft and misfortune, I regard these songs about

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 137

witchcraft as further evidence of poverty and disease as destabilizing features

in contemporary South Africa. One further comment that I feel compelled to
make is that while the arbitrary nature of accusations of witchcraft give credence to the perception that it is a symptom of primitive atavism (Ashforth
1998, 504), as with all religious ideology it is founded as much on belief as it
is on empirical evidence and harbors the same logic or type of explanation as
that which motivates belief in other religions. The terminology used within
this practice, and in outside formulations of it, is weighted unfavorably in a
good versus evil contestation because it alludes to the dark side of human
nature, and the people who believe in witchcraft may thus be viewed with suspicion and fear. The struggle between good and evil is, however, a primordial
struggle framed differently in different discourses on the human condition.
The witchcraft version is just one of them.
The apartheid-era experience of government as a primary agent of
control over individuals lives has made a considerable contribution to the
post-apartheid perception that the burden of redress lies squarely with the
government. The reasoning runs along these lines: if the apartheid government could be held responsible for the ills that plagued peoples lives such
as poverty, unemployment, poor living and working conditions, low wages,
and so on, then one may assume that a change of government should render
a change in these circumstances. It is in accordance with this way of thinking that the theme expressed as We have voted and life should be better
surfaces quite frequently in post-apartheid maskanda. Indeed while the new
government has done away with apartheid and its extreme version of racial
discrimination, many have felt little change in their everyday experiences.
Economic marginalization still defines the experience of a vast number of
South Africans. The ANCs attempts to curb unemployment through programs like GEAR (Growth Employment And Redistribution) and BEE (Black
Economic Empowerment) have had little effect on unemployment (Bond
2000).73 The increase in unemployment is most prevalent in those sectors
of the job market occupied by the working classes, namely, manufacturing
industries, mining, trade, and construction, rather than the upper- or middleclass domains of finance and information technology.74 Unemployment is
certainly not the only cause of poverty; in many instances where people are
employed, their remuneration does little beyond keeping starvation at bay. In
maskanda of the apartheid era there are a number of songs that deal with poor
wages. This theme has been expanded in the post-apartheid era to include
the broader effects of poverty including crime, illness, and community instability as a result of jealousy and superstition. The repertoire of all four musicians explored in the previous chapter includes songs with these themes.
Shiyani Ngcobos musical discourse marks a space on the sound spectrum of

138|Chapter 4

contemporary maskanda that speaks of the experience of those who continue

to live and work on the parameters of mainstream economic activity. Their
marginalized position is a way of life and indeed has been so for a number
of generations; the future holds little hope of much change. The effects of
poverty underpin most of Shiyanis songs. The depth of his desperation and
that of many others in the same position is most strongly expressed in the
song Ngisizeni. The heaviness of the load is expressed both in the lyrics and
through the labored pace of the song. It is as if he is almost too tired to sing or
to play. There is so little hope of change; all that is left is to contemplate death
and to hope that it will bring reprieve.
It is difficult to draw out an uncluttered and well-defined picture of the
transformation process as it is experienced and understood in post-apartheid
South Africa. The picture is muddled and entwined with a complex array of
attitudes and life experiences. Perhaps what emerges most profoundly is just
that. Whereas during apartheid the boundaries of experience were well defined
and constrained by the oppression of a heavily prescriptive structure, which limited the way identities could be imagined, in the post-apartheid world many
more identities may be imagined and lived. Nevertheless, the constraints of the
past cannot simply be cast off as a by-product of history. The present is always
felt in the context of the past, and newly found freedoms have to be understood
in the context of what went before. While a neo-Marxist analysis might render the conclusion that little has changed because after all the lot of the poor
remains pretty much as it was during apartheid, this does not give sufficient
recognition to the fact that the racial dynamics of wealth accumulation have
altered quite radically. Middle-class status is no longer exclusively the prerogative of white South Africans. There are a significant number of black people
who comfortably claim and live out their lives as middle-class citizens, and
indeed very recent studies are showing that South Africas black middle class is
now, for the first time, larger than its white middle class, a statistic which hardly
suggests a stasis in the social structure of South Africa (Nuttall 2004, 731). Part
of the project of gauging the nature of transformation must then surely involve
an attempt to understand what aspects of the past are still infused in the present and to what extent. As a performance practice that developed in response
to change, maskanda is and has always been engaged with notions of the past.
In an apartheid environment the past was called upon in an idealized form
made visible primarily in the versions so vehemently punted by the custodians
of ethnic nationalism, the Inkatha Freedom Party. This recollection of an idealized past had a marked impact on the way Zulu people conceptualized their
identity, for it seemed that the only path to authenticity was through an affiliation with notions of Zuluness that located it in an historical moment that had
a concomitant rural setting. The apartheid present offered no alternative but

 Men Making Maskanda in Post-apartheid South Africa | 139

to turn backward to a retrospective view of identity. Maskanda musicians from

that era were deeply influenced in their perceptions of their private worlds by
the public rhetoric coming from those who controlled the political arena. In
a post-apartheid world this has changed quite significantly. In contemporary
maskanda the idealized world of an imagined precolonial moment is no longer
the most prominent resource through which authenticity can be sought. In the
context of maskanda of the apartheid era, where this resource served as the only
path to authenticity, this has to be seen as quite a dramatic transformation of the
social environment. Maskanda musicians are now increasingly mapping their
private worlds against a range of different versions of the relationship between
contemporary Zulu identities and those of the past. This suggests that Zulu
South Africans have been liberated from a prescribed indebtedness to the past
and the pastoral as the time and place of their authentic being. Maskanda is
no longer so overtly promoted and defended as Zulu music, so it seems that
ethnicity does not have the same currency in a post-apartheid world as it did
during apartheid. There is a growing confidence in the here and now as a place
of authenticity despite its contradictions and discontinuities. An urban version
of Zuluness now features more prominently in maskanda discourse. The loss
of potency of Zulu ethnic nationalism must thus be seen as more than the fading of a political ideology;75 it has liberated Zulu people from an entrapment in
the past that prevented any realization of individual agency. This is not to say
that the past has been completely abandoned, for were this so, maskanda would
hardly be recognizable as such. What it means is that the past is open to new
interpretations and appropriations, an option that was not available before.
As a consequence of the overwhelming presence of notions of race in
the apartheid world,76 any consideration of a post-apartheid world inevitably
carries an obligatory interrogation of racial discourse. South Africa is widely
recognized as a highly racialized society, yet there is little evidence of commentary on this feature of the South African experience in maskanda. In some
instances, the white others of maskanda music are positioned alongside
black others who are not Zulu (as in iHashiElimhlophes song Khuluma
Nami); in other instances, whiteness is referenced indirectly and incompletely through the use of English texts and musical styles that have never
been subject to the same kind of racial (and ethnic) exclusivity that maskanda
has. Any direct commentary on a racialized view of experience is largely
absent. Quite how one makes sense of this absence in the contemporary maskanda domain I am not sure! That legalized racism has been abolished in the
post-apartheid state is true. Nevertheless, racial discourse is embedded in the
process of transformation, and inevitably so, since a significant part of this process is concerned with making good a past that was characterized by the use
of race as a primary means of definition and exclusion. While transformation

140|Chapter 4

is most often thought of through ideologies that dominate not only in South
Africa but also within the global arena, particularly within the realm of macroeconomics, it is also qualified within the framework of the racial divisions
that have been locally grown. Post-apartheid South Africa is burdened with
the task of redress and is expected to respond to the racial inequalities of the
past; ironically, this very process also keeps racial consciousness alive. Maskanda musicians do not offer many overt or explicit responses to notions of
race. Their perspective on the racial dynamics of South Africas transforming
society is more subtly depicted in two aspects of the post-apartheid repertoire
under review here; the first has to do with language and the second with
music. While on the one hand the post-apartheid appearance in maskanda of
English may be seen as a broadening of the social world of maskanda musicians to include English speakers, on the other hand its inclusion could simply give expression to a shift in geographical location from the rural areas to
the city, as English features as the common language of the city. As was the
case during apartheid, reflections on competition and conflict are racially
and ethnically introspective, that is, they are shaped within the context of
Zulu social networks rather than a broader multiracial community. Furthermore, where English features as the medium of expression for the lyrics, there
is usually a clear sense of division between black and white sensibilities. In
relation to the music the broadening of the sonic resource that is referenced
in post-apartheid maskanda to include the sounds of popular music styles that
resonate with the musical experiences of a broader urban audience may be
seen as indicative of common experience across any racial divide.
During the apartheid era maskanda served as a platform upon which
political constructions of identity were displayed. In the post-apartheid era
maskanda operates more as a playing field on which various identities and
relationships may be tried out.

|5
Women Playing Maskanda

n overarching theme of this book is the relationship between the

production of maskanda and the shifting power dynamics in postapartheid South Africa. In this chapter the focus is on gendered
power relations and their expression in and through maskanda performed by
women. This subject matter is viewed as a complex composite of many different perspectives that are expressed in different ways and that can no doubt be
interpreted in different ways. While the primary focus is on representations
of female autonomy in and through maskanda, the purpose of this chapter is
also simply to describe the features of music that are produced under the banner of womens maskanda, including the sounds and styles that are engaged
and the topics that are covered in the lyrics.
My investigation of the histories, experiences, attitudes, and dreams of
women maskanda musicians has been quite a different experience from that
which came from the investigation of the same in men. At first I thought,
This is to be expected; as women we confront the same issuesyou know,
children, wayward men, running households, cooking, nursing, nurturing,
and more nurturing....Of course! Our family and social responsibilities produce common ground. But is this really true? The contexts in which women
take on these issues are variable, and, to be sure, my experience of womanness is in many important ways quite different from the experiences of the
women who feature as the subject of this chapter. I know that in the past,
class divisions that separated women in South Africa corresponded directly
to racial divisions. Black women were encased in a class category that meant

142|Chapter 5

exclusion from education and economic empowerment. The situation was

not the same for white women. In many ways, my life has been as different
from that of the women in this study as it has been from that of the men. Why
then have my interactions with men not had the same ease and naturalness
as my interactions with women? I cannot find a reasonable explanation for
this. Perhaps I imagine my interactions with women to be easier. After all, our
social system encourages us to use biological differences as natural justification of the socially constructed difference between genders (Bourdieu 2001,
4). This way of thinking slips in the assumption that an essence of womanness is a bond between all women! Such notions of essence identities so
often creep surreptitiously into explanations of everyday relationships and
experiences in South Africa. These constructions are among the many consequences of long-established ideologies that dominate so absolutely that they
can put forward the bizarre as feasible. So why am I devoting a whole chapter
to the women who play maskanda, as though categories such as mens music
and womens music are reasonable, a questionable proposition indeed (Tagg
1989)? I do so because from its early beginnings maskanda was claimed and
constructed as a male musical domain. Thus the fact that women are now
performing within this domain invites this gendered investigation. Not only
was maskanda constructed as the music of men, but also it is often alleged
to be a male musical practice that was built on the musical styles of women,
particularly those associated with bow music. Johnny Clegg describes the
development of maskanda: When these migrants left home they were locked
in compounds....[T]hey started to play on these instrumentsthe guitar
which they bought from the mine shopsongs to remind them of home,
songs which their sweethearts sung and slowly these songs were usurped and
a male music tradition developed which was not there before (Clegg 1981, 5).
This representation troubles me. It insinuates that maskanda, the male tradition, took over womens songs, that it appropriated them as is done with the
spoils of war. There is some truth in this view of the relationship between
early maskanda and womens songs, but I see it is as part of the story rather
than the whole story. To be sure, it is quite feasible to imagine that men
far away from their homes found solace in bow songs that were characteristically about loss and longing, and there are similarities between the structure of bow songs and the structure of early maskanda.1 Furthermore bow
songs also include izibongo, an important defining feature of maskanda.
Yes, the connections are there, but it is also clear that a far broader set of
musical influences than womens songs shaped this musical practice, as can
be seen most obviously in the instrumentation, performance style, rhythm,
and some of the harmonic permutationsall also a substantial part of the
substance of maskanda.

Women Playing Maskanda | 143

Theorizing Gender in South Africa

In a broad or general sense, my theoretical stance on gender relations has
been shaped by Bourdieus view that the way gender relations are played out is
determined and controlled for the most part by dominant identity discourses
so that being included as a man or woman, in the object that we are trying
to comprehend, we have embodied the historical structures of the masculine
order in the form of unconscious schemes of perception and appreciation.
When we try to understand masculine domination, we are therefore likely
to resort to modes of thought that are the product of domination (Bourdieu
2001, 4). This means that not only are the women who are the subject of this
study constrained by dominant discourses on their roles and relationships, but
so too is my own analytical imagination limited by the uneven dominance of
one gender over the other. Patriarchal dominance controls what women can
or cannot do, and, perhaps more importantly, it also controls how we think
about our lives.
In a similar vein I also draw on Althussers notion of interpellation as
another way of processing the hegemonic style of domination embedded in
patriarchy.2 The idea of interpellation acknowledges the interactions that
work to make identities. In summary, the idea is that if women respond to
the hey you! of patriarchy, it may be assumed that they recognize themselves as the subject that is projected in the summons. They respond as the
subject that has been made or constructed by the caller. The issues are thus:
Do women respond as the subjects that are made for them, or are they working on making their own identities? What subjects are made for women in
post-apartheid South Africa? And how do these differ from the ones that were
asserted during apartheid? Of course it is probably never entirely one or the
other of these propositions but rather a matter of degrees of autonomy in different circumstances.
Some of the questions that are addressed in this chapter are: Can we see
in maskanda performance by women evidence of political emancipation,
gender autonomy, or economic empowerment? Can we assume that the
increasing participation of women in leadership roles in maskanda groups is
evidence of shifts in the way womens roles are perceived, not only in maskanda, but also in society generally? Are women deeply reliant on a system
that constructs and shapes experience according to patriarchal ideology
ideology that expects women to respond to its call? Do women recognize
themselves in the calls of those in control of their world and thus respond to
identities that are named and constructed by the economic and patriarchal
alliance of domination, or are they forging their own identities (more or less)
on their own terms?

144|Chapter 5

Ready-made reasons and explanations are always an easy resource and tend
to overwhelm any way of thinking or doing that is fundamentally different.
For Bourdieu this means that cognition (that is, the full understanding that
encompasses intuition and learned knowledge) is replaced by recognition and
submission (Bourdieu 2001, 11). Womens choice to express themselves within
the framework of maskanda could thus be seen as complicity with a male discourse or as a consequence of the constraints placed on womens capacity to
imagine their own performance styles outside of those that have already been
established by men (like maskanda). Their language of performance is limited
to what they can recognize, and because men have dominated the performance
domain for some time, it is inevitably a male style that they see. Is this then
womens maskanda, or is it male maskanda played by women? This particular
issue underpins much of the discussion throughout this chapter.
South Africas history of racial division weighs heavily on any theoretical
formulation of female experience, especially when, as in this instance, one is
speaking about those whose life experiences are in some very fundamental
ways quite different from ones own. Nevertheless, there is a body of insightful
research on womens roles, relationships, and experiences in the past that provides a useful context against which one can measure and think about female
performance in South Africa today.
I acknowledge the distaste that women (particularly black women) in
South Africa might have for western feminist discourse. While postcolonial
ideals are usually behind the distaste of black female academics, at a grassroots level this distaste is born of feelings that any challenge to patriarchal
dominance is a breach of tradition and a betrayal of cultural values, morality,
and roles. As Thenjiwe Magwaza (2001, 2526) notes:
Womens forums conscientising women about their rights in KwaZulu-Natal
meet accusations that they are:
Destroying the family, the main base on which culture is based;
Upsetting gender roles and good relations of communities;
Questioning gender relations that characterize the culturewhich
has no challenges to inequality in itself;
Imposing their own culture;
Disturbing a heritage that has survived for centuries.

My work here is aligned with a broad and overarching feminist ideal, namely,
the transformation of gendered power relations. I mark female performance
in maskanda as part of a gendered discourse on identity, by giving it the
designation of womens maskanda and discussing it in a separate chapter,
because of maskandas status as a male musical domain. Like so many other

Women Playing Maskanda | 145

musical practices it was germinated and grown by men. Maskandas aesthetic

sensibility has been fostered by men, and its success and popularity has been
enjoyed by men.
The popular performance domain was not always the prerogative of men.
Christopher Ballantine points out that all-female groups had flourished in
the South Africa of the 1930s and indeed for several decades before that
(2000, 378). During these times, female participation in public performances
of popular music took place if not on a basis of full equality, then at least on
the assumption of significant paritya real continuum that enabled women
and men in principle to take part in the same kind of ways (2000, 378). Ballantine goes on to say that by the 1950s, however, womens roles had diminished considerably:
Their involvement largely depended on their allure: as mixed and women-only
groups faded away, the primary route for an aspirant singer or dancer was to be
adopted by a male group for her sexy, decorative qualities. It was a turn of events
that not only foreclosed opportunities for women and confined them to a particular stereotype on the musical stage; it also infantized them. (Ibid.)

Ballantine ascribes the masculization of performance to the sociopolitical

climate of this time, when legislative controls designed to inhibit the development of black urbanization placed extreme restrictions on the opportunities available to black men and women. Up until the 1950s women had not
been subjected to the pass laws that controlled black men, but in 1952 this
changed. The homeland policy of the National Party that came into power in
1948 solidified labor migrancy as a way of life for black South Africans, and
this of course had massive consequences for both men and women because
ultimately it took away any hope of a functional family base as the foundation
of everyday life. Urban areas offered little comfort for migrant workers, and
rural homesteads often deteriorated into rural slums wracked by poverty, poor
farming, drought, and erosion. A bleak picture indeed! While some women
sought restitution in the urban areas, working mainly as domestic servants
and child minders but also as shebeen owners and prostitutes,3 most women
remained in rural areas, taking on the roles and responsibilities previously
held by men as heads of households. As Ballantine points out:
By the 1950s a new form of family had to be reckoned with: a matrifocal, or
female-headed family. But this was not all. What was also clear was a tendency
for families to extend in a multigenerational form on the matrilinea woman,
her daughters (legitimate or illegitimate) and their daughters [Walker 1990
(1982), 149]. (Ballantine 2000, 389)

146|Chapter 5

Because men were absent from the family, family relationships and responsibilities were restructured, with the maternal role taking precedence over the
conjugal (Walker 1990 [1982], 20, qtd. in Ballantine 2000, 389).
It is in this context that maskanda developed as a male musical domain.
As such, maskanda paid homage to the political rhetoric that dominated
Zulu parlance on identity, while at the same time serving as compensation for mens experience of emasculation in their everyday life. Women
had already been excluded from performance in the public domain, and
it was accepted that they spent their time in other ways. Roles defining
who does what, when, and how are socially constructed. They are part of
social hierarchies affirming and giving credence to their shape and form.
Because men and women have obvious physical differences, these are commonly assumed as a natural basis for gendered identity roles. The particular strength of masculine sociodicy comes from the fact that it combines
and condenses two operations:4 it legitimates a relationship of domination
by embedding it in a biological nature that is itself a naturalized social construction (Bourdieu 2001, 23, orig. emphasis). But by the 1950s womens
roles had changed in response to a change in society. Women assumed male
responsibilities, particularly in the private domain, in response to a need
that was created by circumstances directed from outside their own realm of
influence. Some feminists may register this shift in female authority in the
home as a triumph over Zulu patriarchy, but in fact the disempowerment of
men did not translate into the empowerment of women. The entire social
system was (and is) so fundamentally patriarchal that female autonomy in
the home simply meant greater responsibility within a system that kept Zulu
women at the bottom of the pile. And this was not only because of their gender but also because of their race. Black women had little control over their
own lives, and in fact neither did their men. But men could move in and
out of the private domain with a degree of impunity never afforded women.
Different rules and responsibilities had been mapped out for men and
women, such that mens survival strategies were more likely to be registered
as acceptable and womens survival strategies were more likely to be seen as
degenerative or deviant.5 This tended to be the case not only in Zulu circles,
but also in the broader social domain controlled by a government that was
proudly patriarchal and that covered any cracks in male dominance with
religious justification. Similarly, the almost obsessive recourse to tradition
in Zulu circles,6 particularly those dominated by ethnic nationalist ideals,
trapped women in an ideology that could never imagine meaningful equality between men and women because tradition was thought of as a preordained license for masculine domination (Magwaza 2001). While men of
different groups were pitted against one another in the public domain, in

Women Playing Maskanda | 147

the private realm men of different groups had common cause in the dominance and control they asserted over women.
Patriarchy does not operate on its own. It works hand in hand with other
aspects of society. It is compatible not only with capitalism and economic
imperialism but also in other arenas, particularly those that have the punch
of institutionalized status. In a Zulu social environment this complicity was
clearly evident during the height of ethnic nationalism and is certainly not
absent in the present. Many maskanda musicians and their supporters grew
up under the apartheid regime, and their formative years took place during
the time of ethnically ascribed homelands and severe social restrictions. The
legislative assembly that controlled the Zulu homeland was dominated by
the Inkatha Freedom Party, and Inkatha made no bones about what it saw as
the right way for Zulu people to conduct their lives. Essentially the people
did not own their tradition; it owned them. Assuming a position of authority on authentic Zuluness, Buthelezi preached the rules governing every
aspect of peoples lives,7 including the roles and relations of men and women.
Ubunthu-botho, an educational manifesto taught as a compulsory (but not
examinable) subject to Zulu students, was designed to impart a strong sense
of ethnic affiliation to the youth and to maintain male authority in the home.
It was through the concept of hlonipha (broadly translated as respect) that
the idea that Zulu men were born into a position of authority over women was
put into action.
Further it embraces the authority of men over women, and embodied in these
relations is male domination in general. In short, ukuhlonipha sanctions superiority based on sex, age and social position and reproduces the whole set of
authoritarian and hierarchical relations found in Zulu society. (Hdluli 1987, 67)

This assertion of male authority was devoid of recognition of the trials and
obligations that characterized womens experiences that were a consequence
of the absence of men.
Shireen Hassims research in the early 1990s focuses on the way women
were represented in the formal, public domain. She discusses feminist discourses in relation to womens organizations in South Africa, including the
ANCs Womens League and of particular relevance here, the Inkatha Womens
Brigade (Hassim 1993). It seems that in these two organizations a womans first
task was to support her man in the struggle against the oppressive regime of
the Nationalist government. Issues of particular concern for women were seen
as subsidiary problems that could not be addressed until this regime had been
overthrown. It was not until the Malibongwe Conference in January 1990 that
women started to be critical of male dominance of the ANCs Womens League

148|Chapter 5

and their exclusion from decision making (Hassim 1991, 66). The Inkatha
Womens Brigade was also essentially an agent of Inkatha generally, there to
support the ideals strongly espoused in the political rallies and in the education
policies of Inkatha. While women in the ANC were positioned within a nonracial version of nationalism, women in Inkatha were positioned in accordance
with Zulu nationalism, shot through with ethnic chauvinism and authoritarianism (Hassim 1993, 2). While in public speeches and in the KwaZulu Legislative Assembly, Buthelezi spoke of the equality of men and women, it was
equality defined as men can do mens things and women can do womens.
These definitions were given credence by calling on Zulu tradition and religious belief as the cornerstones of Zulu cosmology.
During apartheid, the ideals of the liberation movement carried considerable moral weight. In post-apartheid South Africa there is great reverence for
those who were involved in the liberation movement, so much so that liberation credentials often override accountability in the political sphere. Driving
to work in November 2008, I listened to a talk show on SAfm where the issue
up for debate and comment was whether it was possible for a liberation movement to be successful in government as the ruling party. Many of the callers
expressed outrage at the idea of criticism of and challenge to the ANC, citing
liberation credentials as enough justification on their own for party actions.
While the fact that such a debate can be aired publicly may be seen as an indication of a healthy democracy, the overwhelming loyalty to liberation ideals
very relevant in the past often undermines the need to address issues that bear
down heavily on the present. As one of the guests on the show pointed out,
liberation needs to be seen as a process with ever-shifting aims and idealsfor
most people there has been political liberation in the sense that all people are
now part of the electoral processbut there are many other areas where the
common person is still trapped in the grip of institutionalized oppression
that follows from inadequate economic reforms. On paper, womens rights
appear to be addressed in the new governmentmore women are in political leadership roles than ever before. The gap, however, between these select
few and the vast majority of women is often very wide. Unlike many women
politicians, the vast majority of women are still weighed down by the social
distortions that are the product of apartheid. It is against this backdrop that
women moving into the realm of maskanda must be read. For many women
post-apartheid experience takes place within a social context where the patriarchal grip is firmly defended by men who assume that they have the right to
prescribe how women behave, particularly in relation to men. Mens notions
of womanhood provide important insights into the dynamics of gender relations. The stories told in womens music may be contextualized through the
stories told about women by men in their performances of maskanda.

Women Playing Maskanda | 149

Men Talking About Women

The dominant themes in the lyrics of contemporary male maskanda tend to
focus on social and political issues rather than personal experiences. Many of
the songs deal with violence and death, competition, jealousy, and witchcraft.
There are some songs that express longing for girlfriends, fiances, and wives,
and the need for reassurance that they will stay faithful to their men. Direct
reference to women often takes place in the form of a complaint that women
have breached their roles as wives and girlfriends. The following song highlights a predominant sentiment about women in male versions of maskanda.
This track, Amalungelo (Rights) is from MfazOmnyamas CD, Ngihlanze
Ngedela (I wash my hands of you), released in 2001.
Amalungelo (Rights)
Omakoti banamuhlanjena sebejola
beganile
Omakoti banamuhlanjena usubathol
ematarven
Bayabhema, Bayabhema
Nijola kanjani weh?
Ngabe yiwo lawamalingelo?
Ukujola benganile?
Maye Babo! Nijola kanjani niganile?
Webafazi nijola kanjani?
Ubathol emakhoneni, Ubathol ematarven
Aw! Omama bethizobabulal indlala
Uthi umfazi usakwazi nje ukuphkelunin
ukudla?
Hawu! Phela ngeke siyimele lendaba
Izinkomo zethu thina sazilahla nje
nkulunkulu wami
Asazi! Umfazi ufunibhulukwe
Akasafuni ukugqoka isiketi
Umfazi Ufun ibhulukwe elikafwa yimi nami
Wake wakubonaphi khona lokho?

Maye Babo! How can you cheat

when you are married?
You wives, how can you cheat?
You find them around the corners;
you find them in the taverns
Aw! Our mothers are going to die
of hunger
Do you think the wife can still cook
food for her mother-in-law?
Hawu! We cant stand this
We just lost our cattle, my God
We dont know! The wife wants
the trousers8
She does not want to wear a skirt
anymore
The wife wants to wear the trousers
that I also wear
Wherever did you see that?

In this song women are presented as having usurped behavior that is regarded
as the prerogative of men. Smoking, drinking, and sexual promiscuity in
women is seen here as a challenge to the authority of men and a form of
social deviance. Any interrogation of the dysfunctional state of the social
norm is subverted through a focus on constructed notions of male and female

150|Chapter 5

identity. Men and women are seen as occupying separate realms with different standards of morality and social obligation.
In the following song Bhekumuzi Luthuli expresses bitter feelings of
resentment toward women who are not entirely dependent on menidentified here as women who have their own incomeand, even more importantly in the context of this study, toward the government for giving women
recourse to the law if they are abused by men.9 Clearly what is regarded as
transformative by women is not necessarily regarded as transformative by
men, particularly when it comes to intimate relationships. The effect of this
is that, while womens rights may have much greater recognition in formal
institutions, in the private domain women may still face strong resistance to
their emancipation.
Izwe Lokhokho (Land of our forefathers)
Uhulumeni selokhu wakhipha imali
yeqolo angisahlonishwa layikhaya,
Angisenazwi njengendoda.
Wemkami sewaphenduka uzwi lakhe
Wemkami sewaphenduka uqhofoza
layikhaya
Mina angisenazwi njengendoda
Wayiqala lapho lemikhuba yakhe,
esebenza kwagobiqolo10
Ngambona lapho mayenemali
uyaqhosha.
Hhaw hhey!!! Yini le engiyibonayo?
Aw lafa ngathi izwe lokhokho bethu.
Uhulumeni wenzani wangiphuca
amalungelo.
Wangeyisa umkami.
Wayiqhatha wayishiya hulumeni.
Leziingubo onqaba nazo.
Uthi mangingamthinta uzongbopha.

Ever since government provided the

grant money, Im not respected in
this household anymore. I dont
have a say.
Oh my wife, youve turned to respect
your word alone.
Youve turned into the speaker in this
house
I dont have a say as the man anymore
She started this behaviour when she
got a job with DSW
Thats when I noticed that when she
has money shes proud.
Haaaa!!! What is this that I see?
The land of our forefathers dies
What is the government doing taking
away my rights.
My wife you are so rude to me.
Government, youve put me in trouble.
These dresses youre refusing with.
She says if I touch her shell have me
arrested.

Izibongo
Angena amalanda amhlophe
emagcekeni komalo, zavuvuka
izinhliziyo zabangizondayo.

White birds enter my mothers yards,

hearts of those who hate me are
heating up.

Women Playing Maskanda | 151

Keep on...you!!! who was noticed by

ladies taking off the belt and they
smiled.
The thing that puzzles me is that when
Im with girlfriends they talk among
themselves.
Herd of dogs, I wonder how you
gave birth.
I said I am my mammas boy, and
popular with the ladies.
Go boy so that we can and drink
iminjonjo12
Im coming from down below
KwaMaphumulo.
Ngazishiya siphuza aManjinjinji
As you see me here I left cows drinking
umfula oshiya izikhala...11
from Manjinjinji, a river that leaves
Kwesikagogo mfishane isalukazi
spaces.
sempondo.
As the place of a short Mpondo woman
Ngiwuphethe ngeshumi lamadoda
Im carrying it with ten men and two
namadoda amabili ngaphezulu
more on top of that...
mdladlangwe...
...there are two gates at his mothers
...mabili amasango khona elokuya
home, one for entering and one
nelokubuya ekhaya kubonina kaHadebe
for exiting.
Tshefeza kharenti owabonwa zintombi
emkhumula bhande zamamatheka.
Into engixakayo uma ngikhuluma
neyami zonke ziyavungazela.
Mhlambi wezinja ingabi wawuzele
kanjani.
Imina owathi ngiwumfana kamalo,
ngislomo samantombazane.
Hamba mfana khona sodlula
kweyanguye siphuze imnjonjo.
Ngiphuma ezansi kwaMaphumulo,
izinkomo zakhithi ungibona
ngilapha nje

Women Making Maskanda

Womens roles in maskanda performance come in various packages. There
are quite a number of women who participate in live performance in and
around Durban. From time to time concerts are held at the Bat Centre, where
the program is dedicated to female maskanda performance. Some of these
events showcase unrecorded artists, and it is not unusual to have an entire
concertrunning all afternoon and well into the eveningwhere all the performers are amateurs, not that they would see their performance as amateur
in the sense of being unpolished or of inferior quality. Perhaps it is better to
describe these performers as those who do not make a living from maskanda
music, although they do indeed hope for some market success. These events
are often themed as showcasing both women and tradition simultaneously.
There appears to be an assumption that women performing maskanda automatically align themselves with tradition, and it is often this affiliation with
tradition that gives their performance weight and credibility. So one could

152|Chapter 5

say that it is the traditional status of maskanda that affords these women an
opportunity to perform on a public platform; it casts them into a space that
has strong popular approval and protects them from some of the prejudices
that are leveled against women who catch the public eye in other performance domains.
Women take their place in maskanda essentially as singers. In many of
the commercially successful bands, men compose the songs, and men are
the instrumentalists. Although Phuzekhemisi had a woman drummer in the
past, I have not come across any women instrumentalists in my research for
this study. The fact that women rarely play instruments in maskanda may be
attributed not only to the idea that women playing guitars or western drum
kits would be seen as a fundamental breach of tradition and thus, as Sipho
Mchunu (of Juluka fame) put it, a sad day for maskanda (Davies 1992, 8),
but also to the fact that women have been excluded from access to instrumental performance generally for want of time and money. The Jews harp (isitolotolo), bows, and at times the ngoma drum are seen as acceptable instruments
for women to play. These instruments, however, do not feature significantly
in contemporary maskanda.
Maskanda composed and/or performed by women is positioned against
the backdrop of the music of their male counterparts. The central position
within the genre is occupied firmly by men, and it is assumed that mainstream maskanda is performed and composed by men. Womens maskanda is
thus seen as a subgenre of a performance practice owned by men. Womens
maskanda has its own defining characteristics, with a remarkable uniformity
in style and clearly demarcated boundaries to its musical resources. One could
read this as a firm and unambiguous marking of performance territory. I see it
rather as a constraint that allows female participation to be easily controlled.
The limitations that are evident in womens maskanda are, to my mind, the
realization of an unstated prescription of practice coming from those who
dominate the genre, from the market and from general social discourse on
gender roles and relationships.
The stylistic features that stand out as common to womens maskanda generally are:
The vocals are presented in a call-and-response format, with the
call being presented by a small group of women and the response
by a small group of men.
The main musical interest is in the vocal section, with instruments
playing a much less important role than they do in mens maskanda.
The male chorus sings in subdued, gentle tones.

Women Playing Maskanda | 153

The singing is seldom emotionally intense.

The tone and timbre of the singing tends to be the same and does
not respond to the subject matter of the lyrics.
The singing is supported by a bouncing, regular, upbeat
rhythm.
The izibongo section is omitted.
The izihlabo is the same for nearly all the songs.
The songs tend to follow a standard form that takes shape as follows:
(a) Izihlabo: introduction on solo guitar. This is followed by a
short pause.
(b) Short instrumental section: the main melodic material is
introduced on the lead guitar building up to the entrance of
the drums, bass, and concertina.
(c) Vocal section: section A, the main melodic material in calland-response is repeated a number times; a contrasting B
section follows, and then the A section returns.
In many womens songs the lyrics are presented by both a female and a
male chorus. The relationship between these two choruses is often important in the construction of a discourse that gives expression to the power
relations between men and women. In songs where this is an important
feature, it is indicated whether the lyrics are sung by the female or the
male chorus.

Izingane Zoma
The group Izingane Zoma, a commercially successful group whose music is
distributed and published by Gallo Record Company, epitomizes the characteristic sound and style of womens maskanda. The group consists of three
women and three men vocalists, lead and bass guitarists, an accordion player,
and a drummer.
The presentation of this group to the public is confusing. The face of
the music is womens maskanda. Each CD carries the image of three women
singers only. It sounds like womens maskanda in the sense that it has all the
defining features mentioned above. Yet the women are not named in the
credits on the CDs. In fact the credits are recorded differently on each one of
Izingane Zomas CDs and are always incomplete; on the CD Impukane there
are no credits to the performers at all! This is predominantly vocal music,
yet all the singers are not named. At times the bass vocalists name appears
(Mqapheleni Magubane), and on some CDs some of the instrumentalists are

154|Chapter 5

named (lead guitarBusani Khuzwayo; bass guitarMadoda Ntshingila;

and constina [sic; should be concertina]Stopsign Mbokazi).
The name Izingane Zoma means Children of Mothers and was chosen
because it was not just a group for the ladies; the gents are there...so it was
actually a group for the six of them. They did not want female or male to be
dominant so they said that because we are all children of mothers then we are
using the name Izingane Zoma (Linda Sabelo, personal interview, Downtown Studio, Johannesburg, 2007).13 This explanation suggests that they do
not intend their music to be seen simply as womens music. Yet the conscious
presentation of the women as the face of the band and the clear marking of a
gendered division through the separation of the vocals into male and female
sections suggest otherwise.
Most of Izingane Zomas songs have the same style of vocal presentation.
Vocal melodies hardly vary from one song to the next, and neither does the
form. Most songs follow the following form:
Izihlabo: guitar introduction of melodic material joined by drums
and concertina
Vocal Section: melodic material divided into ABA with both A and
B consisting of vocal material presented in a call-and-response
format and repeated a number of times
Instrumental interlude, which is often musically neutral
ABA vocal sections
There is a strong sense that these songs are composed to a formula, giving
the impression of an imaginatively constrained environment that often typifies commodified music and one that is also indicative of a constrained social
world.
The prominent features that give definition to Izingane Zomas sound are:
the youthful almost childlike timbre of the female vocals;
the rising melodic slide in the middle of a phrase and the long
sustained notes at the ends of phrases in the female section of the
vocals;
musical variation and interest in the male part that is also emphasized by the supporting bass following its melodic line;
an instrumental section in the place of izibongo; and
the frequent use of a signature izihlabo.
Variation in the melodic line comes essentially from the words that dictate
the shape of each melody. There is, however, little musical representation of

Women Playing Maskanda | 155

different emotional sentiments so that all the songs have the same musical
setting no matter what feelings they express.
Some of Izingane Zomas songs are gender neutral or position men and
women with a common purpose; some set men and women against one
another; yet others take a patriarchal stance on female roles and behavior. In
some instances the music accompanying these lyrics confirms the expressed
gender relations; in others it contradicts or at times subverts any expression of
female empowerment.
As one might expect, tensions in gender relations are highlighted in those
songs where the male and female sections express opposing positions in the lyrics. In most cases these songs are about problems in an intimate, personal relationship. Sengikukhumbule (I miss you) (Table 5.1) and Isifebe Sendoda (A
cheating man) (Table 5.2) from the album Msholozi (2005) and Ungangithinti
Singavumelene (Dont touch me without an agreement) (Table 5.3) from the
album Aphelile Amacala (There is no case) (2006) each challenge patriarchal
views on the roles, responsibilities, and rights of men in a marriage alliance. In
each of these songs womens expectations of an intimate relationship are presented as quite different from those of men. In Sengikukhumbule (I miss you)
and Isifebe Sendoda (A cheating man) the women complain about the way
things are while the men, responding dismissively, express their satisfaction with
the way things are. The male perspective is that of the status quo and female perspective is pushing for change. In Sengikukhumbule (I miss you) the lyrics sung
by the female chorus express feelings of neglect and abandonment:
Kudala wahamba layikhaya; buya phela uzongbona.
You havent been home in ages; please come and see me.

In this song the woman appeals to her man, not as her husband but as the
father of her children. Her loneliness is expressed as a concern that her husband does not see his children; it is an appeal for emotional comfort and
support. He does not respond to her emotional needs but rather translates her
appeal into one that is material. His message is: I will come when I want to
and will bring you something nice and that should be enough.
In Isifebe Sendoda the womens chorus expresses a sense of betrayal as a
result of being one of many lovers. The female perspective shows a desire for a
monogamous relationship whereas the male view is that it is normal for a man
to have relationships with many women at the same time (I am not a cheater).
In the song Ungangithinti Singavumelene (Dont touch me without an
agreement), men and women are also taking opposing positions, but here,
rather than taking a complaining stance as in the two previous examples,
women take a more assertive role and claim recourse to legislation that states

156|Chapter 5

Table 5.1
Sengikukhumbule

I miss you

Womens Chorus Baba wabantabami awusabuyi

ngani sengikukhumbule

Father of my children I miss you

so much

Mens Chorus

Dont complain your turn will

come

Ungabusakhala mtanomuntu
liyeza nawe elakhilanga

Womens Chorus Kudala wahamba layikhaya

Buya phela uzongbona

You havent been home in ages

please come and see me

Mens Chorus

I know my darling you want

something

Ngiyazi dali wami ukuthi

Kukhona la kushoda khona

Womens Chorus Wahamba engathi baba

saxabanalayikhaya

It seems like we had a fight

Mens Chorus

Have faith I will come soon

Ungibekezele mtanomuntu
ngizobuya noma kanjani

Womens Chorus Kukhonumuntongabe sabuya

ukzobonabantabakhe

You dont come to see you kids

Mens Chorus

Dont worry I will bring you

something nice

Thulunganaki ngizokphathel
okumnandi ungakhali

that any sex against the wishes of a woman is rape, even within the context
of marriage. The official position that a woman can lay a criminal charge of
rape against her husband under the 1993 Prevention of Family Violence Act is
given a public airing. This presents a significant challenge to mens perceived
cultural rights and control over women. The communication of this information in song within the framework of maskanda, a male musical domain and
one that has the reach of commercial dissemination, is not only an effective
assertion of female autonomy. It also asserts a version of transformation for the
new South Africa that is in conflict with the commonly espoused notion
that transformation entails the revival of the traditions of precolonial Africa.
Here ethnically and culturally ascribed roles and rights that determine the
relationships between men and women are under fire; for some this kind of
criticism would be regarded as a betrayal of African ideals (Thenjiwe Magwaza 2001).
While the lyrics present men and women as having different perspectives in these three songs, the music makes little, if any, contribution to this
distinction. In fact the conflict in the lyrics is rather deflated by the music.
Both male and female vocal parts are delivered in smooth phrases that have
very little undulation. They are controlled and predictable. Their length and
melodic shape are very similar. The women are given the caller position as

Women Playing Maskanda | 157

Table 5.2
Isifebe sendoda

A cheating man

Womens
Chorus

Mina ngasuk ekhaya ngithi

ngizogana kanti ngizoganisifebe
sendoda

I left my home to marry a man

a cheating man

Mens
Chorus

Akshiwo lokho angikaze ngizwe

kuthi indod isifebe

You cant say that to a man

its not cheating

Womens
Chorus

Indod enjani ebuyingalali ekhaya

mina ngagana isfebe sendoda

What kind of a man that doesnt

sleep at home

Mens
Chorus

Ngiyakkhuza akushiwo lokho

indoda iyisoka

Dont say that, Im not a cheater

Womens
Chorus

Kufanele ngthini ngobawsalali

layindlini

What should I say then

Mens
Chorus

Ma usuka kini awuzange usuke

ngob uzosizisishimane

I wasnt single when you married

me

Womens
Chorus

Wagcina nini ukungkhulumisa

uhambungabuyi

When was the last time we had

fun together? You dont come
home

Mens
Chorus

Masqalukuthandana kwase
kukhonabanye engthandana nabo

When we were dating

there were some other women
I was in love with

the first chorus that sings and men the responsorial role. Nevertheless, the
balance between the male and female parts tips in favor of the male part
on account of the strong support that it is given by the bass guitar. There is
no other musical representation of any power strugglemen and women are
essentially speaking the same musical language.
Nonetheless, gendered power relations are sometimes expressed, albeit
somewhat surreptitiously, in musical discourse, for example, in Ixube Ledushu (Complicated story) on the album Aphelile Amacala. This song does not
have lyrics dealing with a point of conflict between men and women as in
the previous three songs. It is a boast and flaunting of the groups success.
Izingane Zomas strength is played out in the middle section of the song.
Rather ironically this part is sung exclusively by men and devoted to expressions of male power through images of war. Here the music underpins the
lyrics with the use of the Zulu trumpet (vuvuzela) and the recitation style of
vocal delivery, two features that are both associated with amabutho (songs
of war). The womens role is relegated to that of supporter rather than protagonist. The action comes from the men thus implying that it is the men

158|Chapter 5

Table 5.3
Ungangithinti singavumelene Dont touch me without an
agreement
Womens
Chorus

Nomingaba yodwingubo eslele Even if we share the same blanket

ngayo layindlini

Mens
Chorus

Saze saphila kabhlungu

Saphila kanzima thina madoda

Life as a man is very difficult

Womens
Chorus

Ngicelukuthi ungangithinti
singavumelene

Please dont touch me without an

agreement

Mens
Chorus

Ushukvumelanokunjani
nkoskazi

What do you mean my wife

Womens
Chorus

Yazi ngingakufakicala
Ngithi ungidlwengulile

I can open a rape case

Mens
Chorus

Okushukuthi ukuphela
Kwesthunzi sokuhlonipheka
kithina madoda

This is the end of our dignity as

men

Womens
Chorus

Awushungbambelani
ungakhulumi sivumalane

Why do you hold me instead of

talking to me politely

Mens
Chorus

Nawusuthatha lomqondo
wokuthabafazbajikel
amadoda

So now you also report your own

husband

Womens
Chorus

Ngikhathele kabi
ngicelukuthi ungangithinti
namhlanje

I am so tired please dont touch

me today

Mens
Chorus

Okushikuthi ukuphela
kwesivumelwano somshado
layindlini

This is the end of our marriage

Womens
Chorus

Uyazi uyangihlukumeza uma

singavumelene

You rape me if you touch me

without an agreement

Mens
Chorus

Saze saphila kabhlungu thina

madoda

This is a tough matter for us men

who bring success. In the final section of the song the music does, however,
become more inclusive when the womens chorus joins the action once more.
In many of the songs the female and male choruses are not set in opposition to one another either in the music or in the lyrics. In the song Intuthuko
(Development) (Table 5.4), women are called upon to take a proactive role in the
development of community life. Here there is both an expression of common purpose through the musical setting of the lyrics and a direct call for this common

Women Playing Maskanda | 159

Table 5.4
Intuthuko

Development

Womens
Chorus

Wemadodawakhele
lendawosukumani nithuthukise
indawo enyakhele

Men of our community unite

and develop our community

Mens
Chorus

Sukumani mphakathi
niyofunizidingo zendaweniyakhele

Community! Stand up and

fight for your needs

Womens
Chorus

Intuthuko angeizibe khona

Nihleli phansisukumani
nihlangabezi ntuthuko

There wont be any

development if we dont work
towards it

Mens
Chorus

Amazwathuthuke nje
Amadodavuk asebenze

All the developed countries

managed through community

Womens
Chorus

Webomama abakhele lendawo

Sukumani nithuthukise indawo
enyakhele

Women of our community

unite and develop our
community

Mens
Chorus

Sukumani mphakathi
niyofunizidingo zendaweniyakhele

Community! Stand up and

fight for your needs

Womens
Chorus

Intuthuko angeizibe khona

Nihleli phansi
Sukumani nihlangabezi ntuthuko

There wont be any

development if we dont work
towards it

Mens
Chorus

Amazwathuthuke nje
Amadodavuk asebenze

All the developed countries

managed through community

Womens
Chorus

Hlanganani nekhansela lendawo

Niltshele enikfunayo endaweni
yenu

Meet with the elected

councillors tell them what you
need

Mens
Chorus

Nani makhansela yekani ukuthi

Ungowayipi inhlangano

The councillors dont choose

according to political parties

Womens
Chorus

Uhulumeni uyayikhiphimalikusele
balethi zidingo zabo emnyangweni

The government gives funding

and the communitys needs
must be brought forward

Mens
Chorus

Sizanabantngokfanayo
Ningaqhakambisi
ngokobhlanga

(Government officials)
must help everyone dont
discriminate according to race

purpose through the lyrics themselves. The melodies sung by the male and
female choruses complement one another while at the same time serving a
common goal. For many generations men and women have lived very separate lives largely as a result of government policy that made it impossible to
build strong communities with joint participation from both men and women

160|Chapter 5

in family and community life. In this song these kinds of communities are
represented not only as now being possible (as expressed in the music that
unites the male and female voice through common purpose), but also necessary (as expressed in the lyrics). However, this call for equal participation from
men and women in community life is covertly undermined by the fact that
men and women are addressed separately. This suggests that men are being
called upon to unite with men and women with women. Thus the picture
of community that the song constructs is one that continues to grapple with
divided male and female domains.
In songs that have political content, men and women also speak with common cause. The title tracks of the 2005 album, Msholozi (Table 5.5), and the
2006 album, Aphelile Amacala (Table 5.6), are two such songs,14 and here
men and women join together to speak for the people. Both of these songs
express support for the controversial populist politician Jacob Zuma.15 The
sentiments they express are presented as those of everyone. Implied in this
everyone is the people as in the anonymous, yet politically significant
common man (or woman). This idea of the people is reminiscent of the
ideology upon which the liberation movement was built. This expression of a
rift between parliament and the people suggests a breach of liberation ideology on the part of Thabo Mbekis government. These songs bring into the
popular public domain of entertainment, highly emotive political sentiments.
Jacob Zuma is renowned for his populist style of politics and his recourse to,
what some regard, as rabble rousing through song.16 Zuma claims not just to
be a representative of the poor, but to be one of the poor, a claim that is hard
to reconcile with his affluent lifestyle.
Msholozi has been a very successful album. More than one hundred thousand copies have sold despite its having been removed for a while from the
playlist of South Africas national broadcasters Zulu-language radio station,
Ukhosi FM. In fact the controversy surrounding the title track is said to have
increased sales and encouraged other radio stations to play the track. Kaya
FM station in Johannesburg, which rarely features traditional music played
Msholozi after holding a poll in which more than 70 percent of respondents
said the song should get airtime, according to the programming manager Neil
Johnson (iol.co.za, Sept. 25, 2008). In February 2006 the CD was sold at a
discounted price of R60 outside the Johannesburg court where Zuma was to
appear on charges of rape (ibid.). The group, however, claims the song is not
politically driven since they did not speak to Zuma about doing that song
and also the song actually is not based on how they feel, but is based on what
the community was actually saying (Linda Sabelo, personal interview, 2007).
In fact in this same interview the two lead singers of the group shied away
from expressing any opinion on the matter.

Women Playing Maskanda | 161

Table 5.5
Msholozi

Msholozi

Womens
Chorus

Bonkabantu bathi bafunu

Zuma aphathe

Everyone wants Zuma to be

president

Mens
Chorus

Abe uhulumeni we South Africa

Abawobonamacala
Agwetshelwe wona

Government of South Africa the

accusations against him must be
erased

Womens
Chorus

Ephalamendabavumi
Ukuthu Zuma abe uhulumeni

The parliament does not agree

with us

Mens
Chorus

Kanti uyoba yisekela kuze kube

nini?

Until when will he be the

deputy President?

Womens
Chorus

UMadiba wathi makphuma yena

UMsholozi oyophatha

Madiba said Zuma will take

after him

Mens
Chorus

Uzoba yisekela likabani manje

Khululan u Zuma
Azophatha abe uhulumeni

Whose deputy is he going to be

now? Set him free so he can be
the president

Womens
Chorus

Amacala anawo awesulwe

UZuma abe uhulumeni

Zuma must be acquitted so he

can be president

Mens
Chorus

Niyomchiliza nishintshane
Ngaye kuze kube nini

Until when will you move him

around?

Linda Sabelos statement suggests that the motivation behind this song is
to express public sentiment as it is understood and experienced by the authors
of the songa role commonly ascribed to maskanda. But it is more than
thisit was also a well-calculated marketing move. By airing support for a
controversial individual like Jacob Zuma, rather than the other issues that
are of grave concern to the people, they not only act as the voice of the
people, but they also capitalize on emotive political sentiments to advance
the commercial success of their music. The release of the album Aphelile
Amacala close on Msholozis heels may well be a case of further capitalization
on a good thing.
What do these two songs say about female autonomy? There are of course
a number of ways of reading this. Some might read the female presence here
in the expression of a stance on a widely publicized political issue as an indication that women have a voice in the public domain. I take a more skeptical view, primarily because of their explanation of how and why the song
was composed and perhaps even more importantly because Izingane Zomas
songs are written by men. Furthermore, the composers of their songs, S. Z.
Mayise and B. X. Mayise, are also the composers of the music sung by another

162|Chapter 5

Table 5.6
Aphelile Amacala

There is no case

Womens
Chorus

Aphelile amacala akade ebekwe

ku Msholozi Akabuyele endaweni
yakhe

There is no case against Msholozi

he must take back his position

Mens
Chorus

Kusekhonumuntu ola
UthUmsholozi uzobuyela kanjani

There is someone in his position;

how is he to come back?

Womens
Chorus

Mangabe kusekhonumuntu
Ohlelendaweni yakhe
U Nxamalala akkakalungi

If thats the case then that is not

right

Mens
Chorus

Kusekhonumuntu ola
UthUmsholozi uzobuyela kanjani

There is someone in his position;

how is he to come back?

Womens
Chorus

Kuyosho nina maqabane

ukuthUmsholozubuyela kanjani
Endaweni yakhe

The comrades should say how he

should come back to his position

Mens
Chorus

Ifa lendlu ngeke lidliwe kwenyindlu What belongs to Msholozi

No one should benefit from it

Womens
Chorus

NgobuMsholozakanaamandla
Okususa lontu ohlelendaweni
yakhe

Because Msholozi doesnt have

authority to remove someone from
his position

female group under the Gallo umbrella, Odadewethu. This effectively dilutes
the womens engagement with maskanda as a tool of agency. The female position is ambiguous here. Agency is controlled and limited. They can speak, but
the words they have are those written by men. A further anomaly comes with
the following statement:
In the past because of apartheid there were so many things that they couldnt
express through music but now with the democracy in South Africa they are able
to sing whatever they want to sing and express their feelings in different ways better than they used to in the past. (Linda Sabelo, personal interview, 2007)

But by their own admission they are indeed not expressing their own ideas
and, furthermore, as the banning of the song Msholozi demonstrates, there
are still constraints placed on what one can say in music.
There are other songs where common sentiment is expressed by both
the male and female sections, and where the subject matter is not located in
the public realm of politics, but rather in the private realm of relationships
between men and women.

Women Playing Maskanda | 163

Table 5.7
Asibancishe

Lets not give them

Womens
Chorus

Ziqhenye ntombazane ngomzimba Woman, you should be proud

wakho. Asisunikela ngemzimba
of your bodies. Dont let men do
yethemadodeni asiwancishe
anyhow

Mens
Chorus

Zihlonipheni
bantabethu siyanthanda
Ningavumukukhohlisw abafana

Yes respect your bodies

dont be fooled by men

Womens
Chorus

Saphela sibancane
yizif ezingalapheki asizthibe
ocansini bodadewethu
asibancishe

We die at a young age because of

incurable diseases
Lets not give in to them

Mens
Chorus

Bancisheni impela
Mihla yonke siyangcwaba
singcwababantabethu

Stick to that
everyday we bury someone
our own kids

The song Asibancishe (Lets not give them) (Table 5.7), also from the
Msholozi album, calls on women to resist the sexual advances of men because
of the risk of getting AIDS. This risk is not explicitly articulated but suggested
by the words we die at a young age because of incurable diseases; lets not
give in to them. The women sing the call section, the men sing the response,
and both articulate the same point of view.
There are a number of songs that express the same view as this one, not
only in Izingane Zomas repertoire but also in womens maskanda generally.
This view is a common patriarchal stance on the responsibilities of women
and on male privilege. Women are given the responsibility of resisting the
sexual advances of men rather than men being called upon to exercise constrainta view that is complicit with the idea that sexual promiscuity is a
male privilege; it is simply part of a mans nature!
This position on mens sexual rights conflicts blatantly with the view
expressed in the song Ungangithinti Singavumelene (Dont touch me without an agreement) discussed earlier.
Izingane Zoma also record under the name Izingane Amakhosi, Children of Chiefs. Their manager, Linda Sabelo, explained this essentially as
a marketing decision and a way of marking a difference between songs that
deal with everyday life and those that have traditional religious content:
the songs selected for the Izigane Amakhosi discs tend to have more overt
references to traditional Zulu religion. To my mind this does not warrant a
name change as many groups put out albums that have a particular flavor. A

164|Chapter 5

possible explanation may be that the target market for Izingane Zomas music
is significantly different from that of Izingane Amkhosi. If this is so, then one
might assume that those who listen to music with a decidedly traditional flavor that pays homage to the ancestors are a distinct group separate from other
listeners of maskanda, and hence that all maskanda listeners are not expected
to have the same cosmological outlook. This is a significantly different view
of maskanda followers from that typically held in the apartheid era when all
maskanda followers were seen as stalwarts of all aspects of tradition. I am not
convinced that it is indeed true. I suspect there to be another reason, perhaps
concerning copyrights and who benefits financially from the recordings. But
this is pure speculation.
There are many contradictions in the discourse on female roles and obligations both in the production of Izingane Zomas music and the music itself.
These contradictions make it difficult to account in a general way for female
perceptions based on their discourse on female identity. Izingane Zoma has
the appearance of womens maskanda. Although the lyrics often express a
female perspective, this is a heavily filtered representation. It is men who control three fundamental elements of this version of maskandathe composition of the music, the writing of the lyrics, and the marketing of the final
product. Here women have been co-opted to appear as protagonists of the
genre. This is indeed an example in the popular music arena of the kind
of tokenism that postures as gender transformation in other public domains
but that ultimately serves to perpetuate patriarchal control. As Spivak (1988)
points out, the contrived inclusion of women is no different from exclusion in
its intention.
During apartheid womens empowerment was put on hold; it was overwhelmed by what was seen as a greater and more pressing cause. Liberation
politics focused on the transformation of racialized power relations. In postapartheid South Africa there is an official position that recognizes gender
equity as an important aspect of the transformation of power relations. Nevertheless, it seems that any significant transformation of the position of women
is still on hold. The negotiation of the rights of women and, more particularly,
the status of women in relationships with men has been set aside. For now
the focus for both men and women is on economic transformation. Until the
lot of the poor majority is addressed, women will continue to grapple with
the roles and relations they are assigned in marriage and in the marketplace.
Unemployment and poverty are widespread in South Africa. I never cease
to be shocked by the number of people, particularly men, hanging around
their homes in the outlying areas of Durban, like KwaMakuthu, Umlazi, and
Inanda, without work and with little hope of getting work. Unemployment
and poverty are certainly very much a part of the maskanda community. They

Women Playing Maskanda | 165

very often motivate the formation of maskanda groups for both women and
men. And it would be totally unrealistic to imagine that where economic success is a possibility, women would not jump at the opportunity to improve
their own economic position and that of the people around them even if this
means bowing to patriarchy. Womens roles as lead singers do not necessarily
make womens maskanda. Izingane Zoma is given the appearance of womens
maskanda, but the women in this group take their place not as themselves
but as personae constructed by the market and by the men in control of that
market.

Discussion of a Selection of Womens Maskanda

I turn now to explore some of the ways a female perspective is expressed in
a selection of examples of maskanda from a number of different groups that
have had varying degrees of success in the commercial arena. The most common and obvious characteristic of female maskanda generally is the presentation of the lyrics in a call-and-response format where the call is performed
by a small group of women and the response by a small group of men. This
dialogical presentation of the lyrics is often appropriated to pit the male and
female perspectives against one another. Furthermore, the male chorus is
often feminized through the raised pitch and the tone of the singing. In some
instances, the presentation of the male perspective by the womens chorus
and the female perspective by the mens unsettles established notions of gender relations. One such example is Uxolo Sisi (Excuse me, sister) (Table 5.8)
from Imbabazanes album Sibambelentulo (I am holding onto what you told
me first/ we are holding the original).
This swapping of perspectives puts subjectivity at a distance since rather
than singing the male perspective the men sing what they would hear from
women and similarly the women sing what they would hear from men. In this
performance the position that women are called upon to take on male sexual
advances in Izingane Zomas song Asibancishe is asserted with the authority of the male voice. Are we to read from this that men support a female bid
for agency or that agency will never be possible without male consent? These
questions are difficult to answer. What can be said, however, is that womens
ideas of morality and sexual responsibility are presented here through ideals
of long-standing monogamous relationships and the loyalty that these imply,
while men are presented as living in the here and now, looking for immediate
gratification rather than the security of long-term alliances.
The lyrics of many female maskanda groups focus predominantly on the
personal rather than the public domain. In many of the songs women bemoan
the loss of men to work away from home and to other women. However, there

166|Chapter 5

Table 5.8
Uxolo Sisi

Excuse me sister

Womens Chorus

Uxolo sisi bengisacel

ukukhuluma nawe?

Excuse me sister can I have a

word with you?

Mens Chorus

Khuluma bhuti ngilalele

Talk brother I am listening

Womens Chorus

Bengisacel uthando kuwe

ntombi

Can I fall in love with you?

Mens Chorus

Ngeke ngikuqome mina

nginesoka

I cannot fall in love with you, I

have my boyfriend

Womens Chorus

Bengisacel ungijole
okungenani

Make me your secret lover

Mens Chorus

Ngingakujola kanjani ngoba

ngiesoka lami

I cant do that, I have a

boyfriend

Womens Chorus

Modwa mntanomuntu
awusangizweli ngani

But woman, cant you do me

this favour?

Mens Chorus

Ngeke mina ngihambe

ngizwela wonke amadoda

I cant go around doing every

man who approaches me a
favour

Womens Chorus

Zwela mina ngedwa

Inhliziyo yami iyabalisa
ngicel ungizwele

Please do me a favor.
My heart is grieving for you,
please do me this favour

Mens Chorus

Ngingakuzwela kanjani ngoba How can I do you such a

ngiesoka lami
favour, I have my boyfriend.

are also a number of songs that do not present women as being in a position
of perpetual longing; in these songs women are seen to be determining their
own rules and conditions for their relationships with men. While in some of
these songs this push for agency involves a subtle unsettling of the listeners
perception of male and female roles, others are more direct in claiming womens rights to make their own decisions about how they want to conduct their
lives. A number of examples of this second approach can be found on Zondenis album, Ishende Lami (My secret lover). The songs uMaqondana (You
have met your match) and Phumengena (Mr. Come-and-Go) firmly assert
female independence in terms that challenge different moral codes for men
and women. As the title of uMaqondana suggests, this song is a challenge to
male supremacy, and in the same vein, the song Phumengena reflects on a
woman who rejects male dominance, who recognizes that she is hotter than
before, and who stands firm on who she is.

Women Playing Maskanda | 167

Similarly the song Isikhwele (Stop being possessive) claims independence as it tells of a woman resisting the possessiveness of her lover and shunning the institution of marriage.
Isikhwele (Stop being possessive)
Kodwa dali wami awehlis
isikhwele
Mntanmuntu; ngobavele mina
nawe asishadile
Ngingasiyeka kanjani isikhwele
Ngingasiyeka kanjani, esothando
Sesingaze sixabane sehlukane nje
ngentw encane soka lami
Lukhuluthando ntombi yami,
Lukhul uthando enhlizweni yami
Lesisikhwele sakho engath uzosala naso

Relax my lover, stop being so

possessive; after all you and I are
not married
How can I stop being possessive, it is
a sign of love
How can we allow such a small quarrel
to set us apart?
My heart is overflowing with love my
girlfriend
Your possessiveness will make you
lose me

Maskanda performed by women does have its own flavor and is marked as
different from that of men through its own peculiarities of structure and
style. The emergence of a standard of form and style in womens maskanda
gives it some authority as a constituted body of practice,17 but with the
qualification, womens music, rather than just music. While male participation in maskanda comes without a gendered qualification, womens
participation is seen as a version of the male style, one that is categorized
in terms of its femaleness. While womens maskanda has some authority
within its own realm, it is also understood and experienced in relation to
the existing (and dominant) version of the style, which evolved as a male
practice and which is still regarded essentially as such. Thus the aesthetic
evaluation of womens maskanda depends on whether it is measured against
the standards of practice associated with the male performance or against
those associated with female performance. The discourse on value is thus
inevitably gendered; what is valued in female versions of maskanda may
depend on whether female maskanda performance is viewed as an autonomous domain or in relation to its male counterpart. Furthermore, this
competing standard of value exists in relation to womens music but not in
relation to mens.
In the body of music that I have investigated, female performance that
overtly follows the same template as male maskanda is unusual. Hazel
Masinas CD Bhoja Bhoja is the only such example from the music that I
have examined and is positioned on the margins of female maskanda on
this account.

168|Chapter 5

In the song We Makhoti advice is given to a woman who has recently

been married.
We Makhoti (Hey, newly wedded woman)
Iyahloshwindoda
Wema ungaboyitshel amagaman
azoyicasula
Iyahlonishw indoda
Wema ungaboyitshel amagaman
Ayiziswana Ubaba womuz umenzani
Ubaba womuzi lona
Ubaba wekhaya umenzani
Wemakoti ungabomthatha kancane

Your husband deserves respect from you

Dont talk badly to him; that will make
him angry
Your husband deserves respect from you
Dont talk badly to him
What are you doing to the head of
the house?
What are you doing to the man of this
house?
Dont look down on him

This song includes an izibongo section, the singing style of the male chorus
has more rhythmic drive and is in a lower register than that of most other
female maskanda, and the instrumental parts play an active role in the musical texture. All these features are typical of male maskanda rather than that
of women. Hazel Masina not only favors the style and form associated with
mens music but also lyrics that are complicit with the notions of female identity presented in MfazOmnyamas song Amalungelo (Rights).
The group Imithente is an example of an emerging trend in maskanda
that challenges the gendered discourse that has historically been embedded
in maskanda by inviting a revised view of the genre. Indeed many of their
songs take shape as a challenge to the maskanda community as a whole. In
this instance female maskanda is not approached as a subgenre of male maskanda where male maskanda holds the fort as the standard of practice against
which it is to be measured. Here, new standards are being made for the genre
as a whole, and these standards include the female voice. Imithente is a commercially successful group that performs locally and abroad.18 Their version of
maskanda thus has the influence of public appeal.

Imithente
Imithentes music stands out not only because of the polished production of
their performance style realized by musicians who are obviously highly competent, but also because they draw on a much wider resource of musical ideas
and performance practices than most other versions of female maskanda and
of maskanda generally. Like few other groups, they have successfully amalgamated the stylistic signifiers of a wide range of other genres with maskanda,

Women Playing Maskanda | 169

most notably amahubo and traditional war songs, traditional community songs
of celebration or entertainment, Shembe music, isicathamiya and contemporary gospel, and less obviously the close harmony melodic style of groups like
the Dark City Sisters. In some examples there is a focus on a particular fusion
of another genre with maskanda, for example, the song Adam from the 2005
album Igaz Elibabayo (Blood that is burning) is a fusion of maskanda and
gospel music, and in other songs there is amalgamation of myriad references,
for example, the title track of Igaz Elibabayo, effecting a wildly textured and
unpredictable rendition of maskanda. The album is remarkable for its diversity. Through this panoply of sound the predictability that characterizes so
much maskanda is left in the distance.
The referencing of different genres and performance practices is realized
through recognizable signifiers of those genres. Amahubo is recalled through a
slow walking pace and a style of vocal delivery that is characterized by harmonic
inflections that slide through the microtones between notes, for example, in the
song Kumnyama Kuleziyantaba (It is mysterious over those mountains) from
the album Ngiyakushiya Mawulele (I am leaving you) and the song Iqonyelw
Ezinye from the album Igaz Elibabayo.19 Other songs that draw on Zulu cosmology (one that is broadly compatible with many African cosmologies across
the continent, particularly in sub-Saharan Africa) adopt prominent stylistic
characteristics of what I call izangoma music such as a labored, almost droning style of singing that slides heavily through microtones, for example Jabula
Mngoma (Be happy isangomatraditional healer) on the album Umnyango
Ongenasikhiye (The door that does not have a key).20 These songs also feature a
cyclical form with many repetitions of lyrics and music. Together these features
communicate an atmosphere akin to ritual celebration.
A distinguishing feature of Imithentes style is the frequent reference to
traditional war songs. These songs have varied messages but deal, in one
way or another, with conflict. Uthuli Lwezichwe (The dust of the dwarves)
from the album Umnyango Ongenasikhiye addresses conflict in the political
arena; Amabutho (Members of a regiment) from the album Ngiyakushiya
Mawulele (I am leaving you) challenges the Zulu King Zwelithini to take
note of the needs of the youth; and Amathinta (Someone who likes trying
different things) from the same album, which, like many of these songs, challenges other maskanda musicians through claims about Imithentes superior
performance abilities. These songs feature the Zulu trumpet of war, ululating, and, most importantly, a long section of allegorical izibongo poetry often
speaking in an older version of isiZulu that is heavy with obscure imagery that
may indeed be incomprehensible to many young listeners.
There is a clear reference to isicathamiya in those songs where the
male chorus sections take on the role of leader and sing in controlled close

170|Chapter 5

harmonies in a higher register than usual (the singing here sounds similar to
that of the popular duo Shwi Nomtekhala). The songs Khuzeka (Behave)
from the album Ngiyakushiya Mawulele and Amasango (Gates) from the
album Awusay Ebhodweni (You do not use the pot/ you do not cook) are
examples of this permutation.
The song Amazondo (Jealousy) from the album Umnyango Ongenasikhiye recalls the characteristic sound of the music of the Dark City Sisters (popular in the 1980s) and their predecessors, The Skylarks (1950s). Unlike the
other genres discussed above this is essentially music of the township rather
than the rural homestead. This reference to music of the township is made
through the vocal arrangement of female voices that take center stage singing with two upper parts and one lower part moving through repeated cycles
of melodic material in the groove of township jive. The guitar part deviates
from the maskanda style, engaging in a responsive but unimposing dialogue
with the vocals, as is more typical of mbaqanga or jazz than maskanda. In the
song Abanezono (The sinful) from the album Ngiyakushiya Mawulele, this
city style is set in contrast to the rural style of community singing where
voices are not organized according to their pitch register, nor controlled by
diatonic harmonies, nor limited in range; the sound is fuller, less ordered, and
embraces a wider range of voices.
Many groups, male and female, include gospel numbers as separate entities in their recordings. Imithente relocates gospel to the maskanda domain
so that while the gospel sound is clearly identifiable, it is framed as maskanda.
The best example of this fusion is the song Adam from the album Igaz Elibabayo. The incorporation of gospel into the maskanda domain is made fully
explicit in the instrumental version of this song that appears as the last song
on this CD.
With the incorporation of a range of different styles associated with different genres comes a loosening of the form commonly associated with maskanda. The formulaic approach to composition evident in Izingane Zomas
music is largely absent. Nevertheless there are some features regarding the
arrangement or organization of the music that occur consistently in much of
Imithentes music. Most of the songs begin with an izihlabo section on solo
guitar. In a few instances the izihlabo is given to the concertina or a combination of guitar and concertina. The vocals are most often arranged with the
female chorus taking a lead role and the male chorus a support role. The two
often overlap, thus eliminating any sense of being set in opposition to one
another. In many songs there are sections where the lead is given to a solo
female voice and the supporting (or in some instances responsorial) chorus
is a combination of male and female voices. A more overtly gendered division of vocal material comes in sections where heavily allegorical effusions of

Women Playing Maskanda | 171

izibongo-style poetry are presented by a solo male voice and the story of the
song is sung by a womens chorus. Often these parts do not simply alternate
but overlap for a significant portion of the song. In many instances there is a
break about two-thirds of the way through a song, which is followed by new
musical material set at a different tempo to what went before.
A significant amount of the discourse on cultural production in postapartheid South Africa responds directly to the notion of an African renaissance and concomitant ideas of cultural heritage. Imithente draw heavily
on the sounds and performance styles associated with their cultural heritage.
While their music is rooted in Zulu cultural heritage, they also reach out to
other ethnic groups in South Africa purposefully in their lyrics,21 as in the
song Isandlulane (Jumping hare) from the album Igaz Elibabayo, but also
because their music captures the ethos of African renaissance through its celebratory energy and drive and because of its appropriation of a musical heritage that has relevance for many South Africans.
What of the position of women in post-apartheid South Africa is revealed
in Imithentes music? The discourse in this music is not as overtly gendered as
in the other examples I have discussed in this chapter. Women are the most
visible protagonists of the music, and it is the female voice that carries most
of the core musical material and gives expression to the lyrics. Women are for
the most part presented in a strongly interactive and interdependent relationship with men. Nevertheless there are quite a few songs that undermine this
position of negotiated gender relations and that return to the unsettled and
unhappy state of dependence and neglect. One such example is Amashum
Amahlanu (Fifty) (Table 5.9) from the album Awusay Ebhodweni.
In Imithentes repertoire there are also a number of songs that paint
women as unfaithful to their men. However, not one of the fifty songs that
I have studied for this chapter speaks of men as unfaithful to their women.
In the context of the other songs covered in my investigation of maskanda,
this is a very biased representation of reality. The jilted mans harsh and bitter
condemnation of his wife is expressed in the song Iputh Elikabani (Whose
fault is this) (Table 5.10) from the album Awusayi Ebhobweni. There is no
mention in this song of what the man was up to in the ten years that he was
away. There is silence on this matter, and it is this silence that reveals the
inertia of women in the face of male dominance.
As is the case with Izingane Zoma, Imithente is a group driven by men.
The music and lyrics are also written by men. In both instances agency for
women comes primarily in the act of performance. The difference is that Imithentes music is far more innovative than that of Izingane Zoma. Imithente
push both the musical boundaries of the genre and the geographical boundaries of its reception. The diversity in their musical resource opens up a space

172|Chapter 5

Table 5.9
Amashum Amahlanu

Fifty

Womens
Chorus

Mama nawe babasengiyahamba

My in-laws I am going back

home

Mens
Chorus

Khuluma makoti womntwanami

kwenzenjani

Tell us my sons wife whats

wrong?

Womens
Chorus

Sengibuyela ekhaya kubazali bami

I am really going to my parents

Mens
Chorus

Inkinga yini uxoshwa yini laykhaya

What is chasing you out of our

home

Womens
Chorus

Ngani yenu iyahluleka ukungondla

Kungcono ngibuyele ekhaya

Womens
Chorus

Amashumi ahlanu opondo,

ngingawenzani

Your son is failing to provide for

me
It is better I go back home

Mens
Chorus

Bekezela mtanami uma umfuna.

Kodwa ikhulu lamarandi wena
ungalenzani

Persevere my child if you love

him

Womens
Chorus

Hlala phansi mtanami ungahambi

What can I really do with R100

Mens
Chorus

Stay on my child
Ngihlalele indlala kuze kube nini?
Kusho ukuthi lomuzi nizowubhidliza. dont go
You will destroy this home

Womens
Chorus

Mina ngibuyele ekhaya

I am going back home

Mens
Chorus

Ukukwehlule umendo wentanami

buyela ekhaya

You have failed your marriage,

go back home

Womens
Chorus

Ungehlulile umende ngibuyele

ekhaya

I have failed my marriage I am

going back home

Mens
Chorus

Ukukwehlule umendo wentanami

buyela ekhaya

You have failed your marriage,

go back home

What can I do with 50 pounds

for a more emotionally charged expressive style. Imithentes music embraces

a range of musical signifiers that draw tradition into a contemporary moment,
yet this relocating of the past avoids the constructions of Zulu ethnicity that
typify maskanda in the apartheid era. Perhaps by default, this innovative,
energetic, and varied musical discourse carries an image of women as motivators of change into the public domain, inviting its audience to transcend the
boundaries of lived reality and to celebrate an imagined female autonomy.

Women Playing Maskanda | 173

Table 5.10
Iphut Elikabani?

Whose fault is this?

Womens
Chorus

Awusho baba iphutha likabani leli Tell me my husband whose fault

is this?

Mens
Chorus

Kahle ke, Mkami

Hold on my wife,

Womens
Chorus

Wahamba ishumi leminyaka,

ungabuyi ekhaya

You were missing for ten years, not

returning home

Mens
Chorus

Wawufanele ukubekezela

You were supposed to persevere

Womens
Chorus

Ngangena emalingweni mina

I was then tempted

Mens
Chorus

Kuyacaca wawuvele ungaziphethe

kahle

It is clear you were really slovenly

Womans
Solo

Kwakufanele ngenzenjani mina?

What was I supposed to do?

Womens
Chorus

Wangiyala baba wabantwabani

wangibulala ngedlala

I was tempted due to your cause

Womans
Solo

Ngoba vele ngakulinda mnyeni

wami

I really waited my husband

Womens
Chorus

Ngaze ngangena emalingweni nje

ngenxa yakho.

I would have died of sexual

starvation.

Narration: Husband:
Indla yani, amalingo okwenzani
ngoba wena
Wawuziphathelwe ukonakwala
kwakho lokhu okwenzayo
lesonakali lesi.

Narration: Husband:
Starvation, what starvation,
Temptation, what temptations? You
were behaving slovenly, you are a
slut woman.

174|Chapter 5

Senzeni Maureen Nhlebela

Ukuhlabelela (Singing)
Ukuhlabelela kuyamthokozisa
odabukileyo
Oh hlabelela Oh hlabelela njalo
Ukuzuthokoze
Zonkizingelosi bonga ngomsa wakhe
Ziyohlabelela
Umuqhutshow moya, sheshe ulalele
Qala ukhuleke ubohlabelela

Singing brings joy to the sorrowed;

therefore sing
Sing to be happy
All the angels praise the lord; we should
do as the wise by singing
If your spirit calls upon you, pray first
and then sing.

This section explores female maskanda performance from a different perspective. The focus here is on maskanda in a personal space, rather than that
public space of commercially disseminated maskanda; it is on an individual,
Senzeni Maureen Nhlebela, rather than a collective notion of women performing maskanda. There is a particularly important difference between
most of the music presented in the last two sections and Maureens music:
most commercially successful female maskanda musicians do not compose
the music they sing nor do they write the lyrics; Senzeni Nhlebela, however,
composes her own music, writes the lyrics, and directs all aspects related to
the musics performance. In this sense she has control over her performance.
While she has recorded a CD, her music does not have the same status or
success as groups like Izingane Zoma or Imithente. The production of the
recording of her group Osenzeni is more like a home recording than a studio
one, even though it was recorded at Takk Studio in Johannesburg. Osenzeni
sit on the cusp of commercial music. Senzenis story thus offers insights into
how and why women in a post-apartheid environment engage with maskanda,
not only as a medium through which their identities can be expressed but also
as a medium through which their identities can be made.
The overarching theme of this thesis is transformation. My concern is with
the way transformation is conceptualized and experienced in and through
maskanda. Not only are these perceptions and experiences expressed variously in different versions of maskanda, but maskanda itself offers a particular
kind of platform that contributes to the creation of the perceptions and experiences. One important issue that is addressed in this section is why maskandas
particular kind of platform is appealing to women in a post-apartheid setting.
A different research methodology was required for this part of my study.
Here I had to engage on a much more personal level with my informant in

Women Playing Maskanda | 175

order to understand how maskanda fits into her everyday life and why it is an
important tool of identity construction for her. I had a number of interviews
and casual conversations with Senzeni Nhlebela.
Senzeni Nhlebelas background is quite ordinary; it is similar to that
of many women who play maskanda. But what she has done with her life
is not ordinary. While on the one hand her story is a microcosmic representation of a larger whole,22 namely, the community of women composing and performing their own music (without the firsthand influence and
direction of the industry), it is also a very individual story, with features
that are peculiar to her. Senzeni is an unusually independent woman who
experiences her femaleness outside the realm of marriage and child rearing. She does not accept a subservient position either in her work or her
home environment. She runs a garden-service business and has put herself in a position to take advantage of the black empowerment policies of
the government.
Senzeni Nhlebela first came to my attention in 2004. I was teaching a
course in field research at the University of KwaZulu-Natal and wanted to give
my students the opportunity to interview a range of different people involved
in maskanda. At this time Malcolm Nhleko was running a sponsored project,
The Indigenous Music Project, intended, among other things, to give musicians involved in traditional music insight into how the music industry works.
He gave me a list of the contact numbers of musicians participating in this
project, and Senzeni Nhlebelas name was among these. One of the students
contacted her in the hope of interviewing her before one of her rehearsals at
the Stable Theatre in Durbans city center. This was a foreign student, and
I felt a sense of responsibility for her so I decided to accompany her. On our
way, however, we were stuck in heavy traffic and witnessed a series of smashand-grab incidents, which resulted in a chaotic scramble for the culprits. We
missed our appointment with Senzeni. It was some time later that I decided to
interview Senzeni myself, and I was indeed rather taken aback when she suggested we meet at the Kloof Mall. I live in Kloof,23 which is not very far from
Wyebank where Maureen lives.24

Senzenis Story
Senzenis story is compiled from interview material gathered in 2005 and
2006, in Kloof, KwaZulu-Natal. It is written using her own words.
I was born in Inkandla, in Zululand in 1959. There were five girls and two
boys...but many of my family are dead. My parents died there when I was
still at school, and so I had to leave school after standard four.25 But it was good

176|Chapter 5

there, very good...much better than this place. You know I started with my
music there when I was staying at home. In the afternoon I would just call my
friends to come and sing and do Zulu dance or maybe church choir. Yes, every
afternoon after two oclock we did what we knew from those around us, and
people were supporting us especially my cousin. He worked in Joburg and he
would come home at Christmas and bring his friends. They would enjoy us
singing and dancing.
But when I was old enough I left my home to look for work in Durban. I
worked as a domestic so that I could go to night school and I got up to standard
eight. You know someone who made a difference was Themi Venturas...the
actor. He had classes on a Saturday there at the university, and I went to learn
to act. He said to us, Dont forget where you came from. That just stick in my
ears, and I decided I must start my own group doing the music I know. Amagugu aKwaZulu, that was my group with the girls from Lamontville; we did
Zulu dance. We did competitions and we won; in KwaMashu, and Kranzkloof
hostel we won. One day Mfiliseni Ngubane...You know his name? He said to
me, What else can you play? Well, I can play mouth organ so he said, Okay
go to the competition for IJuba Special.26 That was 1993. I won...no I took
second. It was after that, that I started maskanda.
Now, I am the leader of Osenzeni. I am Senzeni. I have not replaced my
love of ingoma dance with maskanda. No, my maskanda comes from ingoma;
all the songs that we sing in our maskanda, we sing also in Zulu dance. We
have been playing from 1994, for twelve years We have played in a lot of places,
Zululand, Inkandla, Empangeni, Mtubatuba, Upongolo, Josini, Vryheid,
Johannesburg...different places.27
I put this group together. It is five girls and me. These women they dance
so well, but when it comes to instruments, there is a problem. The band is
with bass, guitar, drums, and concertina.28 We practice every Saturday at the
Stable Theatre and sometimes Sunday too after church. I go there always with
the girls; the band sometimes cannot come. It is the problem of money and
transport because people are not working. But I need to practice hard and to be
ready. I organize everything, and the group, they wait sitting down rolling their
hands because they have no other jobs.
My rules are not many, though, but one thing I say cannot happen, and
that is you cant be boyfriend and girlfriend in my group. If that happened I
just kick him out, or her. I dont like that. I organize everything and I compose
the music. I compose any time, just when I am sitting down at home, or when I
am driving. But when I sit down to compose I always start with the bass guitar.
I sing to the radio doing the bass with my mouth each time working from the
bass to build the song. And the lyrics, they just come from all around me, things
I see, things that happen to me and to other people too.

Women Playing Maskanda | 177

Osenzeni: The Music and Lyrics

This discussion of Senzenis music is based on her CD recording of her group
Osenzeni (2007), a DVD of the same material, and my own recordings of a live
performance at the Bat Centre in 2007 at a function celebrating Womens Day.
Osenzenis overall sound is significantly different from that of the commercially successful groups like Izingane Zoma and Imithente. The alternating male and female chorus arrangement characteristic of most maskanda
performed by women is absent. While it is the vocals shared between male
and female chorus sections that are the central feature of most maskanda performed by women, here the vocals are seldom shared with a male chorus. The
female singers are the essence of Osenzenis sound. In fact a male presence is
hardly felt in this music. The male participants take a back seat as instrumentalists. Besides the bass drum that pounds quite relentlessly with four-square
regularity, throughout most songs the instrumental parts are distanced from
the main musical action. Even though the bass guitar holds the seminal idea
of each composition,29 it has a relatively subdued role compared with that
which it is given in a lot of other maskanda performed by women.
Senzenis story shows that she does not overtly challenge that which she
cannot change. Women are not available as instrumentalists, but they can
be given assertive roles as vocalists, and this assertive role is not freely shared
with men in her music. It is in this way that Senzeni asserts her version of
maskanda, not as maskanda played by women, but as womens maskanda;
a position that is further substantiated by the inclusion of her own performance of izibongo-style poetry, something that is quite rare in womens
maskanda where the izibongo section is usually omitted or occasionally performed by men.
I recorded Osenzenis performance at a function celebrating Womens
Day at the Bat Centre in 2007. Osenzeni was the last group to perform, following about six other acts. The audience was sparse, and the starting time
was delayed by more than an hour. But Osenzeni put on a well-prepared performance. A substantial section of each song was devoted to showcasing the
dancers. The exuberance of their dance routines took them off the stage and
on to the floor in front of the audience. From time to time an individual
would take the floor. Although she is the leader of the group, Senzeni never
flaunted this position in these dance routines. She did, however, take on the
lead role as a singer and in her performance of izibongo-style poetry. The
poetry in these sections is not typical of the self-praises associated with izibongo in male performances; rather, they are a continuation of the message of
the song as can be seen in the example below. (Note: The praise-style sections
are marked in italics.)

178|Chapter 5

SibanjiwIsilwane (Evil spirit caught up)

Sibanjiwe sabalekisilwane ebsuku
endlini yam
Sibanjiwe sabaleka sagudlindlu
Wasibonumakhelwane
Kanti yini enghlalele ngiphila nje
Kodwa yinenghlukumezayo
laykhaya

An evil spirit was caught up in my

house last night
My neighbor saw it
What am I leaving for?
What is it that is torturing me in my
house

Nasekqaleni wangbukewindini
Uvaliwindi Uvuliwindi Ubukamina
Imkhuba yakh ibonakele
Zonda mthakathi
Anginandaba nawe

My neighbor always checks on me

through her window
Shes been caught
You can bewitch me
I dont care about you

Senzenis maskanda is closely tied to ingoma dance; in fact, she sees her maskanda as a development of ingoma dance, and dance features prominently
in live performances of her music. Senzenis recourse to ingoma as a guide
or even template for her music is not restricted to the rhythm. Her songs are
modeled on those that one would expect to hear accompanying contemporary ingoma dance competitions. Her music is best described as a maskanda
version of ingoma dance, and it is in this respect that she strongly represents
the vast majority of amateur female maskanda bands that I have heard. This
seems to be the space of female maskanda before it hits the charts.
The impact of ingoma dance on Senzenis music is quite different
from the impact that it has generally had on male maskanda performance.
Whereas in male maskanda it translates into confrontational images of masculine prowess, in Senzenis case it marks women as strong contenders for
the positions of power ordinarily assumed to belong to men. In this sense
Senzenis music operates effectively as a reversal of the process Johnny
Clegg refers to in his description of the relationship between musical practices associated with women at the turn of the twentieth century and early
maskanda (Clegg 1981, 5). Senzeni appears to be reclaiming the sounds and
styles that were usurped (ibid.) to build a new male musical genre.
The lyrics of Senzenis songs are notably ambiguous, but they do have
a nonspecific sense of loss and insecurity. While her lyrics are not particularly gender alert, the song Bomama base South Africa (South African
women) appeals to sentiments of female solidarity. In this song she recalls a
landmark event in the struggle of South African women for freedom from
domination and oppression. Through this song she positions herself within a
community of women prepared to stand up for themselves.

Women Playing Maskanda | 179

Bomama base South Africa (South African women)

Sohla sinbonga
Sohla sinkhumbuala
Webomama base South Africa
Nasebenza kanzima, nina mbokodo
Naye Pitoli, nochithu dompasi
Ngoba wawuscindezela
NabulaweAsharpville
Ngenxa ka dompasi
Sasthwele kanzima
Izinto zaba ngcono

We will always be grateful to you

We will always remember you
South African women
You worked hard,
Marching to Pretoria to do away with
dompas30
Due to its oppression
Some were killed in Sharpville because
of dompas
Those were difficult times but you
made it better

Senzenis Position in Relation to Gender Autonomy

Senzenis position is discussed in relation to three main issues, namely, the
roles that she might be expected to have taken as a Zulu woman born in
Inkandla in 1959, the perceptions that she expresses and the action that she
takes in her personal and working life, and lastly the assumptions that I make
about her position in this scenario.
What might be expected from a Zulu woman born in Inkandla in 1959?
Despite its distasteful recourse to an assumed stereotype or grand narrative
on female Zulu identity, I find it necessary to ask such a question precisely
because of the powerful imposition of just such a grand narrative on Zulu
womens identity, particularly during the last decades of the twentieth century.
This narrative was fed in the public arena by the construction of a Zulu ethnic identity that was often articulated in terms of appropriate roles for women
and men, from within the realms of Zulu ethnic nationalism and Afrikaner
nationalism. The most prominently punted identity designated to Zulu men
was clearly that of the warrior. Particularly in the 1980s (the height of Zulu
ethnic nationalism) the two words Zulu and warrior were married in the
public imagination; still today this imagery lives on. Furthermore, Zuluness
was presented as a fundamentally male identity. Zulu women were seen not
as individuals in their own right but rather as mothers of men.31 Furthermore,
particularly in the rural areas in the heartland of the Zulu Kingdom, like
Inkandla, a womans position as a source of lobola meant that her value in
her family could be measured in terms of her capacity to bring wealth to her
father through marriage. In this sense a womans role was understood within
the framework of marriage. Within the marriage scenario a mans status was
affirmed by children; thus, childbearing was assumed to be the natural role of
women. Substantiation of this role was found in the notion that in the act of

180|Chapter 5

sexual intercourse men were not only affirming their prowess but also doing
the work of the ancestors by perpetuating their lineage. This construction of
tradition that confirmed the right of men to sex was further supported by the
notion of hlonipha, which demanded that women assume a subservient and
compliant stance in relation to male domination. By linking womens roles
and identity to tradition, socially constructed identities took on the prescription of a religious sensibility, which gave them tremendous sway in the minds
of women themselves. In both public and private domains female identity was
represented as contingent on their relationship with men. In practice, however, men were largely absent from the everyday lives of women.
Senzeni Nhlebela does not respond to the calls on female identity represented above. She has never married; she has no children. She lives with
one of her sisters in her own house; she runs her own business. Her life is
organized in absolute contradiction to the expectations articulated in dominant discourses on female roles. Men are notably absent from her story. Her
neutral position on gender relations is evident in her words and in her music.
She has formulated her world and her identity independently of men. She
does not react to patriarchal dominance. She ignores it.
Senzeni has a remarkably individualistic approach to her life, as is seen for
example in her response to the untimely death of her fianc. She has acted on
her own feeling that there was no other man for her and registers no response
to calls from society that she should act otherwise. Senzenis actions and her
attitudes to her work, her music, and her personal relationships show a woman
who simply does what makes sense to her, rather than what is prescribed
socially, and there is no evidence of coercion to be or do otherwise. Somewhat
paradoxically, her individualism does not translate into a self-centered existence, in fact quite the opposite. She makes her identity most notably through
the relationships she has forged and the things she does in a musical domain.
Her marriage is to this domain and her children are the fruits of this connection. Her sense of home is in her music. And the music that she chooses
is that which connects her to her place of birth, music that she learned in an
environment quite different from that in which she lives now. In this sense she
displays the same kind of nostalgia for her rural home as is evident in earlier
versions of maskanda. While tradition is often called upon to assert and validate prescribed gender roles, Senzeni engages tradition to ground her life in a
context that has continuity with the past without inhibiting or controlling her
actions in the present. She sees maskanda as an extension of ingoma dance;
for her, it is the same music. This is evident both in the music itself and in
the way she conceptualizes the core membership of her group, Osenzeni, as
belonging to the women who sing and dance, while the band (the men) is a
superimposed addition that is nice to have but not essential.

Women Playing Maskanda | 181

One might be tempted to think of Senzenis position as indicative of the

loosening of patriarchal controls, that if, as Bourdieu states, the interpellation
of female identity by the patriarchal call defines the boundaries of womens
actions, then Senzenis performance of a female identity that is not reliant
on men in any way must be indicative of the erosion of patriarchal dominance. I do not think so. To my mind Senzenis actions, like those of other
nonprofessional women maskanda musicians, are not regarded as a threat to
patriarchal control. As with capitalism, the patriarchal grip is so powerful that
it can afford to tolerate some measure of deviance and resistance. Or perhaps
the beneficiaries of patriarchal dominance are too wrapped up in their own
ideological positions to notice Senzenis bid for autonomy, probably because it
is to a large extent disguised under the rubric of tradition.

Women, Maskanda, and Transformation

All of the music discussed in this chapter has been recorded commercially.
Some of the artists have enjoyed considerable success in the commercial
arena and have a large output of recordings; others are still hopeful that
they might attain success and have a limited output of music. Both Izingane
Zoma and Imithente fall into the first category. In both groups the music
and lyrics of the songs that they perform are written by men. It is not unusual
for music that is produced for the market; many artists in a range of genres
do not write the songs that they sing. Nevertheless this does create some
ambivalence about who these songs speak for and to. The images of womens experiences and perceptions that are produced by these two groups (and
others like them) are mediated by men; however, because of the way they
are presented in the public domain, audiences are coerced into thinking
that their songs are authored by women. As the tool of autonomy, authorship is an important measure of empowerment. A lack of authorship can
only be read as a limitation on autonomy. While the discourse on female
identity in Izingane Zoma and Imithentes music is authored by men, in
other examples it is made as a response to men and patriarchal values. In
either scenario there is a significant male presence in those examples of
female maskanda that have the most commercial success. This presence is
felt particularly in the most obvious defining feature of the musical arrangement of womens maskanda, namely, the separation of the vocal section into
male and female chorus. Albeit less directly, it is also felt in the status that
male maskanda is given in the mainstream: female maskanda is positioned
as a version of maskanda; male maskanda is maskanda. Yet another mark
of male presence in female maskanda is brought with the instrumentalists. The womens place in maskanda does not extend into every aspect of

182|Chapter 5

the performance domain; they take their place as vocalists and this place
is shared in varying degrees with men. In Izingane Zomas music the men
often infiltrate and undermine the female position as the primary vocalists. This is achieved by underpinning the male vocal parts with the bass
guitar and by assigning longer and more varied musical ideas to these parts,
thus drawing the listeners attention to male vocal sections rather than those
sung by women. In Imithentes music the male presence is strongly and very
proudly asserted in long, dramatic displays of poetic virtuosity. In the late
1980s and 1990s izibongo was regarded as one of the defining features of
maskanda. Its importance has slowly eroded so that now it is notably either
absent or radically diminished in a considerable amount of maskanda. However, in Imithentes music the izibongo section has not simply been revived.
It is given a new place. Here it is not a section marked as separate from the
rest of the song but one that is integrated with the entire musical discourse.
This is one of a number of stylistic innovations that I have attributed to
Imithentes music. The accumulation of innovations in their music expands
the boundaries not only of what is perceived as female maskanda but of the
genre as a whole. Although the women of Imithente are not the authors of
the songs they sing, they are its face to the public, and as a consequence,
their music invites a belief in an emerging female autonomy where women
are not relegated to the sidelines but are fully engaged in the mainstream.
Senzeni Nhlebelas music stands in sharp contrast to that of the most
successful and widely disseminated female maskanda groups. She authors
every aspect of the performance of her group, Osenzeni. So far as maskanda
(and her circumstances) will allow, Senzeni has erased male presence in her
music. Men are there, playing the instruments that are necessary to make
this maskanda, but they do so in the shadow of the female vocalists. They are
there because at the moment women are not in a position to take on the task.
Like many other groups that are controlled entirely by women, Osenzeni sits
on the margins of commercial success.
There are a number of features that can be identified as typical of womens
maskanda generally. Many groups focus on a few musical strategies and repeat
these consistently throughout their repertoire. These characteristics, which
tend to be imaginatively constrained and very predictable, operate as signature characteristics for the different groups. In these instances the musical
discourse provides very little support for the ideas presented in the lyrics. In
this constrained creative environment where the musical imagination is limited to specific sounds, notions of form, and styles of presentation, the music
and the lyrics may in fact carry conflicting meanings. The words, as in the
case of the examples cited of Zondenis lyrics, may assertively stake a claim
on female autonomy, but the music contextualizes this claim. It is within the

Women Playing Maskanda | 183

constraints of this context that these songs give expression to the struggles that
continue to accompany any quest for womens autonomy.
Any expression of female autonomy that resides within the maskanda
domain is layered and multifarious, not only because the lyrics cover a range
of different and at times contradictory positions, but also because the musical
settings effectively contextualize these positions within a discourse that was
made by and for men.
While common purpose in all maskanda may be found in themes of
jealousy, politics, violence, illness, witchcraft, and death, men and women
take oppositional positions in themes of accountability, responsibility, and
loyalty between husbands and wives or lovers. In the selection of songs that
I have explored (some three hundred and fifty), patriarchal dominance is
reflected in the presentation of the male perspective as the status quo, while
the female perspective makes a bid for change. Change is thus represented
from the female perspective as a move away from the established position of
dominance asserted in and through a structure that is fundamentally patriarchal. Notions of history, culture, tradition, and religion are often called upon
to substantiate the male perspective with frequent claims to male privilege
being made on the basis of tradition. Where women are noncompliant, if they
are engaged in relationships with men, this noncompliance is likely to be met
with utter disdain, as is expressed in the songs by MfazOmnyama and Bhekumuzi Luthuli quoted earlier.
In post-apartheid South Africa, tradition is often called upon to serve
a process of renewal in order to retrieve and give value to what was lost to
apartheid. Its work in transforming positions of power in post-apartheid
South Africa is not unlike its work during apartheid, particularly in relation
to gender relations. The notion of tradition is often used to carry the torch of
patriarchal dominance. While the maskanda of all-male groups frequently
engages the version of tradition espoused during apartheid, it is in the domain
of womens maskanda that the patriarchal assertions embedded in this version
of tradition is bypassed by framing tradition in the context of African cosmology. Here the music is flavored with a sound and style characteristic of songs
of izangoma (traditional healers) that highlight their connection to the spirits
of the ancestors. Through this strategy women maskanda performers align
themselves with their heritage and communicate the value that they afford
the past without paying homage to a patriarchal construction of their worth
as mothers of warriors.
Maskanda began as a male response to the disjuncture that characterized
labor migrancy. In a considerable amount of womens maskanda the female
voice highlights the exponential impact of this disjuncture on contemporary
life. The fractured family life that labor migrancy produced, together with

184|Chapter 5

the institutionalization of labor migrancy as an established way of life across a

number of generations, has hardened mens attitude to women. The self-conscious recourse to notions of gender equity in the public domain does little to
counteract this. For, as is revealed in womens maskanda, it is in the private
space of intimate relationships that the tensions between men and women are
most strongly felt and that calls for female autonomy are most firmly resisted.
While the exclusion of women from the public domain is easily recognized as an obstacle to female empowerment, their inclusion does not necessarily translate into female empowerment. At first glance one may well
be tempted to interpret the fact that women have a stake in a performance
domain marked historically as the prerogative of men (like maskanda) as a
contestation of male dominance. A closer look shows that this contestation is
limited by the overwhelming power that has been afforded a patriarchal perspective. Women imagine themselves in relation to men, they are measured
against men; yet the converse does not apply. Senzeni does not negotiate her
position in relation to men; she has opted for the erasure of men from the picture. Her story suggests that the only way of escaping patriarchal dominance
is to steer clear of any personal investment in relationships with men.
Just as patronizing acknowledgment of the credibility of feminist discourse
does little to shift uneven power relations between men and women, so too
the opening of maskandas doors to women yields little to change the everyday
lives of women. It offers moments in which female autonomy is expressed at
times as a reality but most often as a wish. Women are slowly infiltrating the
male space, but the overbearing nature of patriarchal control stands in the
way of any substantial change. The dichotomized view of male and female
purpose converts into a competition over positions of power. Without common purpose, gender relations will continue to be experienced and thought
of as a contest.

|6
Experiencing Transformation

he range of music, experience, attitudes, and political imperatives that

have been captured on the radar of this project covers some eighty
years. It would be superfluous to say that life has changed considerably over that period. But I say it anyway because in fact I am so often struck
by the fact that for nearly fifty of those years South Africa was trapped in a
system that intentionally resisted change. Apartheid! It not only separated one
group from another, it separated South Africans from their future. It was a
system that took life, not just in the physical senseit took being, purpose,
and human dignity. The consequences have been monumental. We know
this, but we also forget it in the business of the present and in the dream of the
future. While the idea of apartheid is paired with South Africa, its ideology,
rooted as it is in an obsession with difference, is not peculiarly South African.
This obsession continues to underpin worldwide conflicts and to shape the
way the human condition is understood, lived, and spoken about in the contemporary world.
The concept of difference and the othering that accompanies it has a central place in the intellectual heritage of ethnomusicology. According to Eric von
Horborstel one of the founders of the discipline, [The African character] is difficult to comprehend, because it is so totally different from our own culture, and
so remote and alien in relation to our own mode of consciousness (von Hornbostel qtd. in Agawu 2003, 156). Twenty-five years later, ethnomusicologist Hugh
Tracey had the same perception of African identities: We do not represent or

186|Chapter 6

discuss our own music but that of a people radically unlike ourselves (Tracey
qtd. in Agawu 2003, 157).
Cartesian logic was foundational in the disciplines early years, and it has
been hard to escape. My early research in preparation for this project was motivated by the need to at least attempt to escape this conceptual framework that,
like apartheid ideology, would have me as the white outsider and at the same
time have the maskanda musicians whom I study as the black other. These
constructions do not operate in an innocent or neutral zone: they serve a broader
intention to demarcate positions of power (Bourdieu 1993). The imperative
embedded in these constructions is to keep each division of difference clean
and untainted by the other. The postcolonial ideal captured in the writing of
theorists from Africa such as Mudimbe (1988, 1994), Appiah (2005, 2006), and
Agawu (2003) is foundational in this research, particularly when it is seen as
a constellation of critical practice drawn from philosophy, history, social theory
and literary criticism. It is committed to thematization and theorization of the
experiences of people whose identities are inflected by the metropolitan habits
exported to Africa through British, French, Belgian and Portuguese colonialism. (Agawu 2003, xvii)

I am, however, uncomfortable with a postcolonial approach where the

experiences of people whose identities are inflected by the metropolitan
habits exported to Africa (ibid.) are represented as different in a way that is
so fundamental that they are refused occupancy of the same present as their
others. They are relegated to an historical moment that not only keeps them
different but also traps them in the constructions of colonial ideology. Albeit
different in intention, postcolonial discourse on difference runs the risk of
producing the same othering effect as the discourse of early ethnomusicologists and perpetuating the essence of colonial thought. My methodological
and conceptual strategy has been shaped by the desire to dissolve the power
of difference as conceptual justification for othering.
Postcolonialism is championed in the South African public domain as the
path to liberation. Calls for the revitalization of African culture are presented
as a means to escape from the power of western ideologies. The too-easy
West-and-the-rest polarizations sometimes rampant in colonial and postcolonial discourse studies (Spivak 1999, 39) serve liberation rhetoric well. Rather
than confronting the complexity inherent in the Wests hegemonic control
over Africa, liberation rhetoric seeks recourse in simplistic mud-slinging
strategies as if casting off the enemy in the present can eradicate the past.
Africas interaction with the West has produced African selves that are no
less authentic than those lived in precolonial times.

Experiencing Transformation|187

Unlike this kind of engagement with the postcolonial project, I contest

the idea that in our contemporary moment Africa and the West exist as
clearly bordered, separate domains. ieks view of the relationship between
the observer and the observed articulated in the parallax resonates with this
stance. The parallax reframes paradigms of difference, as it looks to the interaction of different perspectives as a source of meaning. Difference is thus
not about oppositionsdiametrically opposed identities or practices that are
engaged only in competition. Individuals have different selves, and communities have different individuals. Difference is part of the social world; it may
well be the sign of our times (Agawu 2003, 151).1 Through the parallax difference is put to work to engage with the real, even though it can never be
fully perceived because the perceiver is always part of the reality that he or
she perceives.
I also resist grand narratives (Lyotard 1979) of nation (or ethnicity) by
focusing on individual representations of experience. The maskanda domain
has been explored repeatedly, each time from a different angle. The central
themes in maskanda generally and in the works of particular artists often appear
in discussion a number of times because the perspective has been shifted, albeit
in some instances only slightly. I have thus tried to reframe the researcher/
researched relationship in order to engage difference as an analytical tool. Here
at the end of this process it is necessary to evaluate this strategy. I am not convinced that it has been entirely successful, primarily because at this historical
moment I am still bound by established terms of definition (categories of difference that carry allegorical meaning) in order to render the study comprehensible. The dual task of terms and categories to both identify and control
meaning produces an irreconcilable dilemma, and we are now faced with a
somewhat paradoxical situation in which difference is necessary but available
only through a process of construction (Agawu 2003, 165). Nevertheless, while
it is impossible to abandon these terms as tools of communication, the refusal to
accept them as truth has shaped my analyses and discussions. I have tried to
naturalize difference rather than use it as a path to power.
Difference is seen here as a central source and signifier in this exploration
of transformation in post-apartheid South Africa. The nature of transformation as an ideal and as an experience is evidenced most obviously in the way
difference takes shape in the maskanda world and in the extent of the differences in the discourses on identity and experience that are expressed by the
various musicians who are at the core of this research.
The maskanda domain is made up of many more perspectives than I
could possible relate in a single book. I have presented here some of these
perspectivesthis is not the whole story of maskanda, but simply parts of it.
This story reveals some knowledge about maskanda that can be claimed

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with a degree of certainty and fragmented, discontinuous bits of information

that still carry a fair measure of uncertainty.
The earliest recordings of Phuzushukela indicate that in its earliest beginnings maskanda was a relatively free practice without clearly defined prescriptions of style, but one embedded nonetheless, in musical principles and
aesthetic ideals with strong connections to older Zulu musical practices. In
these early songs, experience is represented as being located in a rural and traditional setting, even though by the 1950s and 1960s when these songs were
recorded the functionality of rural life was eroding primarily as a consequence
of labor migrancy. It was as a response to labor migrancy that early maskanda
was imprinted with nostalgia for a rural and traditional way of life through the
sounds and styles associated with this social setting. Rural life is constructed
in maskanda of the apartheid era as a place of stability, comfort, and belonging, and indeed also one of realness or authenticity. It was through recourse to
a retrospective view of their identity that maskanda musicians contested the
identity that they had been given. Paradoxically, it was this same retrospective
view of Zuluness that was appropriated by the apartheid government in its
design of an ethnically divided South Africa. The clearly expressed location
of these songs, not just as Zulu music, but Zulu music rooted in a rural past,
was ripe for use as validation of the notion of a Zulu homeland, and the commercialization of maskanda served this end. The appeal of maskanda to the
market lay in its capacity to give definition to the Zulu world and to locate it
geographically and ideologically as fundamentally different from the world
not only of white South Africans but also of other black South Africans.
The uniformity that is starkly evident in maskanda of the apartheid years
is a significant indicator of the social environment of that time. The identity
template of Zuluness so fervently constructed both by the apartheid government and the ethnic national movement held maskanda musicians captive
in well-defined borders. The hegemonic power of identity politics, foundational in apartheid ideology, left little room for deviation from what had been
decided should constitute Zulu experience. Zulu men were there to serve
tradition in the terms dictated by ethnic nationalism and they were there to
serve the state as units of labor. They sought refuge from their lives as labor
migrants in the past; ironically the past had also been appropriated to
serve those who controlled their lives.
The alliances that were forged between institutions of power (such as government, business corporations, and financial and educational institutions)
gave rise to a web of control that was difficult to escape (Althusser 1984; Bourdieu 1998). Those in the business of producing music for the market at the
time when maskanda entered the fray for economic viability were complicit
with apartheid ideology in as much as their path to profit making was shaped

Experiencing Transformation|189

within the context of a political framework that divided and controlled South
Africans through clearly defined prescriptions of identity. Commercialized
maskanda was made and marketed as Zulu music, and in the process the
diverse identities of Zulu people were simplified and essentialized so that
they could be controlled and packaged for the purposes of the apartheid state.
During apartheid difference gave way to uniformity.
The marketing of maskanda as Zulu tradition mapped its path through
the apartheid years. While Phuzushukelas early recordings incorporate notable levels of flexibility and have the character of documentary rather than
commercial recordings,2 his later recordings show a significant shift toward
a more consistent use of clearly formulated practices. The songs on Phuzushukelas last two albums have a number of striking features remarkably different from those found in his early music. The most obvious is the reinvention
of his style for performance by a band. The instrumental lineup chosen for
the band version of his music was similar to that of mbaqanga music, but differed from it in the inclusion of the concertina or violin. This band format
was expected to make maskanda more marketable, and it certainly brought
it into line with other commercially successful genres that were also seen as
Zulu (most obviously mbaqanga), but that did not overtly express maskandas
valorization of the rural. Maskanda more obviously identified the location
of belonging as a rural space. The flexibility and sense of experimentation evident in Phuzushukelas early songs is replaced here with much greater consistency in style and form. The commercialization of maskanda carried certain
advantages, both for the Zulu nationalists who controlled the Zulu homeland
and the Afrikaner nationalists who controlled the country because it provided
an opportunity to disseminate a view of Zulu identity that coincided with
their ideological positions and political aspirations.3
The early recordings that Phuzekhemisi made with his brother Khetani
epitomize what was expected of maskanda by the time apartheid was finally
dismantled. In these recordings there is strong evidence of an even more
self-consciously constructed Zuluness than that expressed in Phuzushukelas
last two albums, one that ultimately paid homage to the discourse on Zulu
identity that was widely publicized by the self-appointed custodians of Zulu
ethnic nationalism: the Inkatha Freedom Party and their leader Mangosuthu
Buthelezi. The songs on these recordings are characterized by a uniformity of
style and predictability of musical process that take shape within the framework of a well-defined form followed consistently from one song to the next.
The most striking purveyor of Zulu ethnic nationalist discourse in this collection of songs comes with the exchange of a female chorus (heard in Phuzushukelas music) for a male chorus and with the overwhelming presence of
the dance styles that this chorus recalls. Through a clear reference to ingoma

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dance, the chorus conjures up the imagery of stick-fighting, a tradition

infused with the symbolic capital of rural life and warrior prowess. These
dancers embody this symbolic capital and give it an immediacy that is felt in
the presenttheir message is this is what we are not this is what we were in
some distant past. The music is dogmatic in its expression of a very particular
kind of Zuluness; hostage to its time, it allows no space for varied interpretations of identity and experience.
It is against this backdrop of maskanda as a genre that offered little room
for diversity or difference, one that was firmly contained in boundaries that
seemed immovable, that transformation discourse can be recognized in
maskanda of the post-apartheid era. The first recordings of maskanda after
the 1994 elections were quite tentative in their response to the new South
Africa. While hopes for a better future were being imagined, these hopes
were often overwhelmed by violent antagonism between the Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP) and the African National Conference (ANC).
Each of the musicians discussed in Chapter 4 engages with transformation in different ways. In Shiyani Ngcobos case, the picture of post-apartheid
experience is weighed down heavily by the insurmountable burdens of poverty. For many South Africans the hope ignited by the 1994 elections has
been extinguished by poverty. Social development is dependent on economic
transformation, but from the perspective expressed in Shiyanis music, the
post-apartheid governments neoliberal economic policies have done very
little to improve the circumstances of the poor. While some kind of transformation is apparent in the fact that those with power and money are no longer
exclusively white, an ever-spiraling distance between rich and poor (as tends
to be the way in neoliberal democracies) belies substantial transformation.4
Shiyanis call for help in the song Ngisizeni (Help me) carries little expectation of a reply; it is a palpable exposure of disempowerment and despair.
The other three musicians discussed in Chapter 4 present less desperate discourses. This is perhaps because these musicians are positioned differently in
relation to the local music market. This situation is not without irony. Unlike
the other musicians, Shiyanis music was recorded by a foreign company that
has considerable standing in the World Music arena.5 Most musicians see
overseas as a guaranteed source of success; for Shiyani, this was not so. He
was most often excluded from important local maskanda events. Phuzekhemisi, iHashiElimhlophe, and Shwi Nomtekhala all have busy and productive
local performance schedules.
While it all falls under the banner of maskanda, the music of each of
the artists discussed in Chapter 4 is significantly different; each one carries
a different response to transformation in South Africa. For Shiyani Ngcobo,
the changes that have happened during the past fifteen years have done little

Experiencing Transformation|191

to change his life other than to provide a performance opportunity in London for the City of Londons celebration of ten years of democracy in South
Africa in 2004! This gave him exposure to a much wider market, but it did
not transform his musical career into one that could produce a sustainable
income. iHashiElimhlophes maskanda gives expression to quite different
experiences and perceptions of transformation. There is a strong focus in his
music on pleasure. His is a modern, designer image of the maskanda musician. iHashiElimhlophes transformation of maskanda is considerablein
his hands, maskanda becomes music for the youth, for pleasure, and for the
city. The maskanda musician is no longer a lonesome wanderer, or a nostalgic Zulu nationalist; he is a trendy city dweller with an astute understanding
of the market. iHashiElimhlophes story is one of economic empowerment,
and with economic empowerment comes some measure of agency. While his
musical discourse commands a very different view of Zulu identity from that
presented in maskanda of apartheid and in this sense reveals transformation
as liberation from the constraints of the past, it also makes evident what it
takes to be successful in the current neoliberal economy. iHashiElimhlophes
success can be attributed as much to his personal capacity as a businessman
as it can to his capacity as a musician. His selective engagement with tradition
has put him in a position to take maskanda to where the money is and to provide pleasure for this audience with a sense of self unshackled from the past
but nevertheless conscious of it. His part of this story suggests that transformation favors an upwardly mobile middle class and those who embrace ideals
that are typical of western capitalism.
Phuzekhemisi and the duo Shwi Nomtekhala are positioned somewhere
between Shiyani Ngcobo and iHashiElimhlophe. Notions of the rural homespace and a traditional way of life feature strongly in their discourses on
identity and in their responses to transformation. Phuzekhemisi continues
in his long-standing role as spokesman for the rural poor and looks to the
ANC government for the regeneration of traditional rural life. In so doing,
he expresses some faith in the possibility of transformation, although he is
frustrated by how long it has taken for development to reach rural communities. Shwi Nomtekhalas discourse is particularly apparent in DVD productions of their songs. In contrast to Phuzekhemisi, their discourse reveals a
broad chasm between what was imagined as the heart of Zuluness, the homestead, during the height of Zulu ethnic nationalism, and the reality of lived
experience in 20046. Their attempt to translate lived reality with the dictionary of Zulu ethnic nationalism produces a number of rather bizarre and
disturbing images of contemporary experience. Many of the visual images
on the DVD versions of their songs reveal the rural location as a purposeful construction. This space is seen here not as the real thing, but as a set

192|Chapter 6

devised for the DVD recording. The rural space is thus seen as devoid of a
living context. Their representation of rural life as desolate and dysfunctional
is further substantiated by the images accompanying the song Ukuhlupeka,
set in the decay of a disintegrating traditional hut. This is a far cry from the
idea of the rural as home in much of maskanda from the apartheid era. It is
also quite different from Phuzekhemisis post-apartheid representation of the
rural as the place (albeit not without problems) where a Zulu way of life can
function. Phuzekhemisi reflects on the problems facing rural communities,
particularly the poor delivery of basic amenities to these communities, but he
does not suggest that rural life is lost to the present. Shwi Nomtekhalas purposeful construction of the rural is reminiscent of the many calls on tradition
and heritage that are made as gestures of a transformative ethos by politicians.
But the meaning it conveys is much more profoundit stands in sharp contrast to the imagery embedded in apartheid-era maskanda where the rural was
valorized as the ultimate place of belonging. In Shwi Nomtekhalas discourse
a traditional way of life in the Zulu homestead may still be longed for, but it is
now lost to contemporary experience.
One of the most obvious shifts in maskandas discourse came with the
broadening of the genre to accommodate women. During apartheid, female
participation was limited primarily to roles in support of male stars. In the postapartheid era, women have become increasingly visible in lead roles. I have
presented maskanda from the apartheid era in different sections; these sections
are, however, not entirely of my own making. The organization of this text is in
part a response to the way post-apartheid maskanda is presented in the public
domain. The clear division in the public domain between womens and mens
versions of maskanda thus influenced my decision to present men and womens maskanda into two separate chapters. There is also some significance in
the fact that I have focused on individuals in the chapter on men, but I speak
more generally in the chapter on women. Most commercially successful womens maskanda usually takes shape differently from that of mens maskanda. In
mens maskanda there is clearly a bandleader whose name is used to identify the
group; the leader composes most of the songs and negotiates the course of the
group in the marketplace. In contrast, in successful womens maskanda there
is seldom a single bandleader. The women perform as a group and assume a
joint role as the leading chorus that is heard in contrast to a male chorus. This
suggests that women have less agency as individuals than men and that the difference between womens identities is yet to be acknowledged. The relationship
between the female and the male chorus carries most of the discourse on the
social interactions between men and women. This discourse most often takes
shape as anxious and unsettled contestations over the roles and responsibilities
that women and men give to one another.

Experiencing Transformation|193

Some significant differences emerge between male and female performances of maskanda. These differences are evident in the expressive modes
and strategies that are engaged in the music, in the subject matter of the lyrics, and in the values that are expressed in both. While as a body of music
womens maskanda tends to be uniform in its structure, sound, and style, a
greater variety of approaches are emerging in mens maskanda. A comparison
between male and female perspectives expressed in maskanda hinges generally on the differences in opinion expressed by men and women about their
roles and responsibilities in intimate love relationships. Mens accommodating approach to shifts in the shape and style of their maskanda is not mirrored
in the expectations of women that they express in their lyrics. Here men tend
to defend a status quo that is firmly patriarchal and one that regards multiple
partners as a male prerogative. While womens constrained approach to the
shape and style of their music (it is notably uniform and predictable) does not
reflect a compliance with a patriarchal status quo, it does mirror the desire
expressed in their lyrics for consistency and stability in their relationships
with men. It is women who seek to change the terms of their relationships
with men; their desire is for reliable and present husbands for themselves and
fathers for their children. There are, of course, some examples where women
do not express this desire; in these songs women make a bid for independence
by claiming the right to act as men act.
Another important shift in maskanda discourse comes with the infusion of
the sounds and messages of gospel music into the maskanda domain. While
I think that the choice to produce gospel versions of maskanda, or to insert
gospel-styled songs into maskanda albums, is motivated primarily by commercial directives (gospel is one of the biggest money-spinners in the industry), it may also be indicative of a shift in the cosmological perspective of the
makers and consumers of maskanda music. During apartheid the makers and
consumers of maskanda were firmly positioned within traditional Zulu cosmologies. However, during the past twenty years Christian American-styled
evangelical churches have become immensely popular in South Africa and
many Zulu people now position themselves within the Christian cosmological domain. The reasons behind this shift require further research; nevertheless, what is clear is that these churches often operate with strong sponsorship
from the American churches and also often offer much more than spiritual
support; they provide economic networks with opportunities not available in
the broader social and economic context.
A repertoire of imagery born of polarized perceptions of tradition and
modernity, rural and urban, stasis and movement, was encapsulated in maskanda during the apartheid years. In post-apartheid South Africa, this has
changed. Maskanda now carries varied representations of what constitutes

194|Chapter 6

home and the cognate values of belonging, authenticity, and realness.

These representations have a marked impact on the identities that are constructed and the positions that are claimed in and through maskanda. Maskanda now speaks variously to and for different people and thus carries varied
responses to transformation.
As noted in Chapter 1, transformation carries an expectation that goes
beyond the notion of change. While change is value neutral, transformation implies improvement; however, what constitutes improvement may be
perceived in radically different ways by different people. In South Africa,
these differences in perception are particularly stark, and when presented in
the public domain they are often politicized and racially charged. As is the
case with maskanda of the apartheid era, whiteness has little presence in
post-apartheid maskanda. The few references to a white world are made
passively. It seems that its existence is recognized, but maskanda musicians
are unsure of how to engage with it. While the use of English in maskanda
is startling in view of maskandas history, not least of all because it is ill
suited to the melodic inflections of the music, its use does not in any way
suggest a dialogue with whiteness. Whiteness is still essentially perceived
as otherness.
Maskanda is constantly changing as the social world around it changes.
Maskanda emerges thus not as a phenomenological thing that is closed or
concluded, but as a process. It has a history, but it is not completed by its
history. Maskanda exists in experience. The question What is maskanda?
must inevitably be qualified by when and for whom. During the apartheid
years, it was marked as Zulu music where Zuluness was confined conceptually to a particular past, geographical location, and way of life. In a postapartheid world maskanda is taking shape in more diverse ways than were
imaginable in the apartheid era. In some instances, as is the case with the
music of iHashiElimhlophe, it moves well beyond the location, way of life,
and history ascribed to maskanda during apartheid. In others, as in the case
with the music of Phuzekhemisi, new social permutations and relationships
are imagined and perhaps even hoped for, and while they are tried out they
do not translate into a coherent reality. Instead the different identities referenced in some of his songs are as separate and disengaged as they were in the
apartheid past.
The discourse on transformation in maskanda is not only made evident
in what is said and done in this performance practice. It is also made evident
in its silences. Important pressing issues like AIDS, racial conflict, rape, and
xenophobia are largely absent. In rare instances where there is commentary
on these issues, it is seldom if ever direct; rather, it is coded in discreet
insinuations. This may well be because maskanda is now deeply seated in

Experiencing Transformation|195

commercial objectives, and these issues are regarded as too unpalatable for
commercial music. The angst associated with these issues is perhaps too
close to the everyday reality of maskanda audiences. AIDS is seldom spoken about by ordinary people in public. It is a matter that is close to most
maskanda musicians experience, but one they seem to consciously hold
at a distance. Perhaps this is because AIDS is seen as a disease of shame,
and it is often mystified, particularly in rural areas where peoples cosmological perspective conflicts with the explanations and treatments of AIDS
given by western medicine. In the past, maskanda was rooted in everyday
experience. These silences on some of the most devastating issues in South
Africa today suggest that it is now taking hold as a distraction from lived
reality, and in this respect, it can be seen as edging into new territory as it
becomes a vehicle for fun and frivolity. It is through this role that a broader
and more youthful audience base is being established. The more it moves
in this direction, the less dogmatic it becomes about its status as tradition.
Instead it emerges as being about tradition, rather than being tradition itself.
Its relationship with tradition is thus often deferred as a result of its commercial intention.
The most pressing obstacle to transformation emerges not as a lack of goodwill or desire either on the part of maskanda musicians or their audiences, but
rather as the economic exclusions inherited from apartheid and the economic
constraints imposed by current neoliberal policies. These policies strangle
social development by serving the economic aspirations of a select few and
making sure that economic activity takes place within a limited framework,
which is often determined by global directives. Furthermore these policies
are presented to the public as the only way to avert economic disaster. With
directives that are firmly rooted in capitalism, there is little hope of any fundamentally transformative impact on the stratification of South African society
and the distribution of wealth among its people.
For some, the shifts in maskanda are thought of as a betrayal of maskandas role as the mouthpiece of the workingman (not woman!); for others,
they are welcomed as recognition of contemporary black urban identities.
For some, these changes may be seen as evidence of new levels of economic
empowerment that bring hope for social equality; for others, they may be
seen as an expression of the insurmountability of poverty. During apartheid,
maskandas role and status as traditional Zulu music went unquestioned;
in a post-apartheid world, its relationship with tradition is unsettled and
contingent on the choices and experiences of individual musicians. During
apartheid, the past was used widely as a trope for home and belonging.
In post-apartheid maskanda, the past is often distanced from the present, rooting belonging more obviously in the here and now. Maskanda

196|Chapter 6

musicians are now more open to engaging their creative energy not under
the weight of a nostalgic look at the past but through a realistic look at the
present (Agawu 2003, xvix). The year 1994 gave South Africans hope in
a new future. Maskandas more solid position in the present carries with it
the vision of a broader horizon. As the meeting place of imagined and lived
experience, maskanda, like other performance practices, can play a role in
shaping new vocabularies of difference divorced from the power constructs
of South Africas debilitating past.

Notes

Chapter 1
1. The term position is borrowed from Bourdieu 1993, but it is used here to refer
not only to the capacity to produce cultural and economic capital and to the relationship between this capacity and the way capital is disseminated in society, but also to the
stances than are adopted on issues such as race, ethnicity, gender, marginalization, and
transformation.
2. The notion of habitus thus not only frees the subject of investigation from oversimplification, it provides a framework that intentionally avoids stark contradictions typical of
the constructions that make the world in terms of sameness and difference. Issues of
authenticity and realness and the expected choices of one position over another are relocated through the notion of habitus and the tensions between different perspectives can be
analyzed and represented as the site of productive interaction.
3. The idea of constituted bodies of practice is borrowed from Bourdieu 1990.
4. The products of positions are referred to by Bourdieu as position-taking.
5. Heidegger proposes that I am an entity whose what [essence] is precisely to be and
nothing but to be (Heidegger 1985:110; 1962:67). Such an entitys existing cannot, therefore,
be thought as the instantiation of an essence, and consequently what it means to be such an
entity cannot be determined by appeal to pre-given frameworks or systemswhether scientific, historical, or philosophical (Crowell 2004).
6. As Pascal put it, if you do not believe, kneel down, act as if you believe, and belief
will come by itself (iek 1997, 5).
7. Althusser 1984.
8. A maskanda concert organized as part of the Celebrate Durban festivities advertises
contemporary maskanda performance as one of the oldest and most traditional forms of
African cultural heritage (www.artsmart.co.za/crafts/783.html).
9. Adorno qtd. in Lazarus 1999.
10. The liberation movement was often represented as die swart or die rooi gevaar: as
the black (referring to race) or the red (referring to communism) danger.

198|Notes

11. Bhodloza (Welcome) Nzimande is a South African radio and television personality
who is commonly associated with traditional music. He joined Radio Zulu (now Ukhosi FM)
in 1978. In 1987 he founded the South African Traditional Music Association (SATMA). He
was appointed station manager of Ukhosi FM in 1997.
12. Chief Mangosuthu Buthelezi is the founder and leader of the Inkatha Freedom Party.
13. See Morrell 1996, 164.
Chapter 2
1. In A Short Study of Zulu Music, Annals of the Natal Government Museum 1, 2,
25768.
2. Thami Vilikazi is the focus of Muller 1995.
3. Davies states, The term izingoma which is translated as dance songs or hymns is
used to refer to songs played by maskanda musicians. This term is used irrespective of the
performance style or the subject of the lyrics. Ingoma is also used with reference to a wide
range of Zulu male group dances (1992, 4344).
4. Phuzushukela means to drink sugar.
5. Phuzekhemisi means to drink at the chemist shop.
6. The dates given here are release dates, not recording dates.
7. It may be heard in a number of recordings of Reuben Caluzas music and in many
examples of marabi.
8. The tonality of the motive given here is that of the song Waphuma. This motive is
transposed keeping the same intervals for different songs.
9. The identity of the female vocalist is not acknowledged on this recording.
10. Isidwaba is a skirt made from cowhide worn by married women.
11. There is no translation for Diki Diki.
12. Emphasis in original.
13. For example, the triads AC#E and BDF# render the 5ths: A&E; B&F#; D&A: E&B;
F#&C#.
14. Langalibalele is a persons name meaning the sun is burning hot. It is a name
commonly associated with the chief of the Hlubi people, who was imprisoned for refusing to comply with the governments weapons register. Langalibalele was also one of John
Dubes names; he was the first president of the African National Congress elected in 1912
and founder of the famous Ohlange Institute that promoted Zulu culture.
15. This song is presented on the recording as Ngobika Ngithini, which I am assuming
along with various translators is another example of a spelling error as was found quite commonly on the earlier recordings.
Chapter 3
1. In chronological order the titles of these albums are: Sengiyahamba (I am leaving); We
Malume (Hey, uncle); We Shiya Abantabami (I left my children); and Sibimtaka Dadewethu
(Sister, you must come back home).
2. The term liveness is used by Louise Meintjes (2003) to refer to an aesthetic ideal
that is engaged in marking something musically as Zulu.
3. Irene Buthelezi is Mangosuthu Buthelezis wife.
4. Kwela characteristically uses dotted rhythms.
5. For example, Umama asimboni (Where is the mother) and We Baba Wami (My father).
6. For example, Senzeni (What have we done).
7. Bhodloza Welcome Nzimande, the well-known broadcaster and champion of traditional music.

Notes|199

8. Indeed, this is an assumption that Daryl Hellbrunn makes in the comments recorded
on page 85.
Chapter 4
1. Umzinto is a coastal region south of Durban.
2. Sykes 1982.
3. Khetuwise Ngcobo played maskanda guitar. The song Sevelina was always part of
Shiyanis repertoire and was the song that he always taught first to his students.
4. He has recently made himself a superb instrument with frets embedded in the fingerboard and tuning pegs taken from an old acoustic guitar.
5. A brand of traditional sorghum beer manufactured by United National Breweries (SA)
(Pty) Ltd.
6. Now the University of KwaZulu-Natal.
7. Nollene Daviess MMus thesis is entitled A Study of the Guitar Styles in Zulu Maskanda Music (1992).
8. Bongani Mthethwa was a lecturer in ethnomusicology at the University of Natal. He
studied under John Blacking in the 1980s and was working on his PhD at the time of his
death in 1992.
9. When the music department was closed at the University of Durban-Westville, Shiyani began teaching at the University of Natal.
10. A festival of guitar music organized by David Marks who is a Durban-based musician and producer and was the owner of 3rd Ear Music.
11. A British-based recording company that released jazz, acoustic recordings, and
music for the World Music market mainly from Southern Africa but also from the United
Kingdom, Brazil, and Cuba. It was run by Robert Trunz (www.melt2000.com/about-melt/
index.php).
12. A British company that records and distributes music from across the globe.
13. I contacted the organizers of a festival of maskanda music that was held in Umlazi
in September 2008, and this was the response to my question regarding Shiyanis absence
from the festival.
14. For example, Poetry for Africa Festival organized by the Centre for Creative Arts.
15. African Music and Dance is a diploma course run by Dr. Patricia Opondo that
includes various modules on the performance of a variety of music and dance practices from
across Africa.
16. UKUSA is an externally funded music development program offering theoretical
and practical tuition in a variety of genres. It serves as a bridging course for prospective students and as an invaluable educational resource for people who cannot afford tuition or who
do not have access to the masters of local musical practices like maskanda. This program is
run by Dr. Betsy Oehrle.
17. The song Isithothobala is about Aaron Meyiwa.
18. Shiyani and I bought this ngoma drum from a makeshift street store in Alice Street
in Durban in 2004.
19. Bourdieu 1993, 30.
20. Track 3 on the CD Introducing Shiyani Ngcobo.
21. Joseph 1987.
22. These are also themes of his songs generally.
23. SABCs uKhosi FM.
24. Eskom provides about 95 percent of the electricity used in South Africa.
25. Louise Meintjes describes Special Five as a low-budget struggling mbaqanga group
(2003, 107).

200|Notes

26. We listened to Phuzushukela on the radio, and then took tins to make guitars and
we started playing. The main influence on my music was from Phuzushukela; that is how I
got the flair for guitar playing (personal interview, Durban, 1999).
27. I say usually because in some instances the introduction is completely disconnected from the main ideas of the song.
28. Phuzekhemisis latest album, Izindaba Zakho, was released too late in 2009 to be
included as part of this research.
29. The use of the term may be used either for a sister by blood or simple a woman who
is a friend.
30. Phuzekhemisi is addressing Mr. Sydney Mafumadi as the minister of provincial and
local government in 2007.
31. He recalls Ian Smiths regime through the reference to Zimbabwe as Rhodesia.
32. As expressed in The Mail and Guardian, April 26, 2007.
33. S v Shaik and Others. 2007 (1) SACR 142 (D).
34. COPE is the acronym for Congress of the People.
35. This song draws heavily on the song Maye from Emaphalamende (Phuzekhemisi
noKhetani) discussed in greater detail in Chapter 3.
36. According to Phuzekhemisi, the album Sesihlangene has not enjoyed the same success as his other albums (personal interview, September 2009).
37. Personal interview, Bat Centre in Durban, November 2006.
38. Heteroglossia describes the different kinds of speech that are used in different contexts. Embedded in different speech modes is social and cultural information. See Bakhtin
1981.
39. Moses Mchunu is one other musician that he remembers. Mchunu features on the
album Singing in an Open Space (1990).
40. The introduction of a Hut and Poll Tax in 1910 forced people to work in the labor
market.
41. Linah, known to the public as Ebony, was a successful singer. She still harbors hopes
of putting out another album but finds it difficult to devote herself to her own project and be
deeply involved in her familys musical exploits.
42. Kwaito and house music are closely linked, with many recent examples of kwaito
adopting the faster pace associated with house music.
43. Tracks 2 and 10 on Umhlaba; tracks 9 and 10 on Muntuza; track 10 on Mkhulu and
track 4 on 100% iHashi.
44. See Chapter 2.
45. Track 7 on 100% iHashi.
46. Track 11 on Mkhulu.
47. Track 2 on 100% iHashi.
48. Track 5 on Isiphalaphala.
49. Personal note: On March 28, 2009, I heard someone claim, Yes, when Mandela
came we thought that the grass in the fields would turn green. This statement highlights
the level of expectation that people had from the new era in South African politics. In the
run-up to the elections held on April 26, 2009, opposition parties called on people to measure their expectations in 1994 against what they had experienced during the past fifteen
years.
50. Phuzekhemisi speaks about a response to Indian exploitation in the title track of the
album Ngo49.
51. An extensive discussion of Izingane Zoma appears in the next chapter.
52. The relationship between record companies and institutions like SAMA and
SATMA is an area that requires a much more thorough investigation than I have done here.
53. See Erlmann 1996, 84.

Notes|201

54. Personal conversation, September 2008.

55. Emphasis in the original.
56. For iek, Althussers notion of ideological interpellation exceeds the reductionist
assertion of inner beliefs dependence on external behaviour....Althusser evokes an individual who, while carelessly walking down the street is suddenly addressed by a policeman:
Hey you there! By answering the callthat is, by stopping and turning round towards the
policemanthe individual recognizes-constitutes himself as the subject of Power, of the big
Other-Subject ideology (1994, 59).
57. Congress of South African Trade Unions.
58. See Thabo Mbekis speech at the Annual National Conference of the Black Management Forum, November 20, 1999. Available at http://www.anc.org.za/ancdocs/history/
mbeki/1999/tm1120.html. Accessed on June 27, 2007.
59. Mutia concoction used in witchcraft.
60. Inyangatraditional healer.
61. Isidwaba, pl. izidwabaskirt made of animal skin worn by married women in Zulu
tradition.
62. Lobolabride price.
63. In 1998 I attended a maskanda competition in Isipingo (approximately twenty kilometers south of Durban). Despite my lack of expertise I was cajoled into a position as judge
of this competition. Much to my dismay, after the competition I was asked to offer some
general advice to the performers. I am embarrassed to confess that I suggested to these performers that they put more emphasis on the musical aspect of their performance rather than
the dance, for it seemed to me then that maskanda was being used as a setting for the dance
rather than the dance accompanying the song!
64. Umlazi is an extensive suburban area bordering on Durban occupied primarily by
Zulu-speaking people.
65. A good example of this is to be found on the second track on the DVD version of
Wangisiza Baba, Ngitshele Sthandwa.
66. For example, the song Amasiko (Culture) on the album Isiphalaphala, sung by
iHashiElimhlophes sons and calling on people to remember their tradition.
67. This is evident in iHashiElimhlophes song Khuluma Nami where the words Khuluma nami ngilalele are sung in different South African languages including English. The
English phrase stands apart from the other phrases because it marks the melody with different emphases and inflections.
68. Bhekumuzi Luthuli is not one of the four selected landmark contemporary maskanda musicians dealt with in this chapter. He is a successful commercial artist whose music
is recorded by Gallo. He features in the next chapter on account of his discourse on women.
69. For example, the title track on iHashiElimhlophes album Muntuza.
70. Although the year is not actually given it appears to be 1997.
71. For example, the song Vumani (100% iHashi).
72. For example, Vumani Ngisindiswe (Allow me to be born again) on the album
Mkhulu.
73. From the last quarter of 2008 to the first quarter of 2009, there has been an increase
of 1.6 percentage points in the official rate of unemployment. According to the deputy
director general for population and social statistics, Kefiloe Masiteng, unemployment has
increased from 21.9 to 23.5 percent, but the overall number of unemployed still sits at 13.6
million. If the loss of some 208,000 jobs in the first quarter of 2009 does not alter the overall
statistic, then one can only assume that there are other factors that need to be taken into
account. Perhaps a closer investigation of who the unemployed are and how AIDS may
affect these unemployment statistics is necessary (www.statssa.gov.za/publications/statskeyfindings.asp?PPN=P0211&SCH=4379).

202|Notes

74. See allafrica.com/stories/200905060055.html.

75. The results of the 2009 general election show support for the IFP has diminished
quite radically.
76. Taking my cue from Gilroy (2000), I use scare quotes for racial terms in order to
highlight the constructed nature of race and as a way of resisting any assumption that they
are indeed credible constructions of difference.
Chapter 5
1. As discussed in Chapter 2.
2. Althusser 1984.
3. A pub or bar located in the townships designated for black people that operated illegally and served home-brewed alcoholic beverages
4. Sociodicy is socially bestowed injustice. Bourdieu takes the stance that social suffering is a consequence of the way society is structured.
5. See Allen 2000.
6. As can be seen from Mangosuthu Buthelezis published speeches of the apartheid era
(see Mar 1992).
7. The leader of the Inkatha Freedom Party.
8. In July 2007, a resident of Umlazi, Zandile Mpanza, was beaten and her house was
burned because she wore trousers. Her choice of clothing was viewed as a direct affront to
tradition and to the authority assumed by men.
9. Bhekumuzi Luthuli is a well-known maskanda musician of the same generation as
Phuzekhemisi and iHashiElimhlophe.
10. Gobiqolo is a township word given to people who work at Durban Solid Waste.
11. ... is used to indicate that there is text missing because it is difficult to follow
what is being said on the CD.
12. Iminjonjo is a gift for the in-laws.
13. Linda Sabelo is Izingane Zomas manager.
14. Msholozi is Jacob Zumas praise name.
15. Jacob Zuma was dismissed from his position as deputy president in Thabo Mbekis
government in 2005 because of corruption charges brought against him as a result of his
involvement in the notorious arms deal. His credibility as a public figure was also brought
into question when he was charged with the rape of a family friend and AIDS activist. The
verdict of not guilty in this trial raised suspicions of a political plot against him, and he has
subsequently risen to greater heights following his election as president of the ANC in 2008
and president of the country in 2009.
16. LethUmashini Wami (Pass me my machine gun) is Jacob Zumas theme song,
sung whenever the opportunity arises.
17. Bourdieu 1990.
18. They performed in Beijing for the Olympic Games in 2008.
19. There is no simple translation for this title. It refers to a young girl who is obliged to
communicate her feelings for a young man through an intermediary, an older girl referred
to in Zulu as Iqhikiza.
20. Izangoma are faith healers.
21. The renowned Xhosa imbongi Zolani Mkiva is featured on the track Insingizi
(Hornbill) on the album Igaz Elibabayo. This suggests that the music is intended for a wider
South African audience, that is, not just a Zulu audience.
22. Clifford 1986.
23. Kloof is an upmarket suburb to the west of Durban.
24. Wyebank borders on Kloof; during the apartheid era it was a designated Indian area.

Notes|203

25. Most children in standard four are about eleven years old.
26. This was an annual competition sponsored by IJuba held at the University of Natal
that focused on various permutations of maskanda music.
27. All but Johannesburg are relatively small towns in the northern part of KwaZulu-Natal.
28. The members of the band are all men.
29. As Senzeni explains, I always start with the bass.
30. Dompas was the term used to refer to the pass or reference book. During apartheid
all black South Africans were expected to carry this access document in order to verify
their right to live and work in areas other than their homeland.
31. This point is clearly evident in Buthelezis speeches; see Mar 1992.
Chapter 6
1. Emphasis in the original.
2. They appear as recordings of live performances with little (if any) technological
adjustment.
3. The commercial production of maskanda made it possible to disseminate the music
quite widely amongst Zulu people through the Zulu radio station, Radio Zulu (renamed
Ukhosi FM, after 1994).
4. Pierre Bourdieu gives a cutting account of the spiraling effect of neoliberal economic
policies that in subversive and convoluted ways threaten the emergence of collectives orientated towards rational pursuit of collectively defined and approved ends (1998, 104, original
emphasis).
5. World Music Network.

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Interviews
iHashiElimhlophe. Author Interview. Downtown Studio, 23 August 2007.
Izingane Zoma. Author Interview. Downtown Studio, 23 August 2007.
Linah Ngcobo. Author Interview. Downtown Studio, 23 August 2007.
Linda Sabelo. Author Interview. Downtown Studio, 23 August 2007.
Linda Sabelo. Telephone Conversation. 22 January 2009.
Maureeen Nhlebela. Author Interview. Kloof, KwaZulu-Natal, August 2005.
Maureeen Nhlebela. Author Interview. Kloof, KwaZulu-Natal, 15 March 2006.
Maureeen Nhlebela. Author Interview. Kloof, KwaZulu-Natal, 17 May 2006.
Maureeen Nhlebela. Author Interview. Kloof, KwaZulu-Natal, 21 January 2007.
Phuzekhemisi. Author Interview. Bat Centre, Durban, 9 November 2006.
Phuzekhemisi. Author Interview. Bat Centre, Durban, 28 May 2007.
Phuzekhemisi. Author Interview. Bat Centre, Durban, 21 March 2008.
Phuzekhemisi. Author Interview. Bat Centre, Durban, 14 September 2009.
Phuzekhemisi. Interview on Video Logos Productions 2003.
Phuzekhemisi. Interview on the best (the history) of DVD Gallo Record Company, 2006
GMVDVD 044.
Shwi Nomtekhala. Interview on DVD Kukhulu Engakubona Bula Music, 2007 DVDBULA 212.
Shwi Nomtekhala. Interview on DVD Memo Productions, 2005 DVDBULA 002.
Shiyani Ngcobo. Author Interview. Durban, 29 May 2008.
Shiyani Ngcobo. Author Interview. Durban, 14 July 2008.
Shiyani Ngcobo. Author Interview. Durban, 12 November 2008.
Shiyani Ngcobo. Author Interview. Durban, 24 February 2009.
Shiyani Ngcobo. Author Interview. Durban, 7 April 2009.
Discography
Amatshitshi Amhlophe. 1995. Isisho Sabadala. Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP40644
Amatshitshi Amhlophe. 1999. iGazElibi. Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP40815

210|References

Amatshitshi Amhlophe. 2003. uFile uMuntu. Sony Music Entertainment. CDJUL731

Amatshitshi Amhlophe. 2005. The Best of Amatshitshi Amhlophe. Gallo Recording Company. CDGSP3071
Bhekumuzi Luthuli. 2004. ATM. Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP 40930
Bhekumuzi Luthuli. 2005. Impempe. Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP 40944
Bhekumuzi Luthuli. 2005. 1818. Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP 41010
iHashiElimhlophe. 1997. Isiphalaphala. Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP 40733
iHashiElimhlophe. 2002. Muntuza. DDC Records, Ihashi Namaponi Music. CDDCC
(WB)004
iHashiElimhlophe. 2003. Mkhulu. DDC Records, Ihashi Namaponi Music. CDDCC
(WB)06
iHashiElimhlophe. 2004. Umhlaba. DDC Records, Ihashi Namaponi Music. CDDCC
(WB)008
iHashiElimhlophe. (no date). 100% Ihashi. Ihashi Namaponi &DDC. CDDCC(WB)010
Hazel Masina. (no date). Bhoja Bhoja. Triply M Records. CDTPM006
Imbabazane. 1999. Inkinga Yomfazi. Gallo Recording Company. CDRSR69J
Imbabazane. 2003. Sibamb Elentulo. Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP40903
Imbabazane. 2004. Ngizoba Yini? Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP40921
Imbabazane. 2006. Isithebe. Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP50956
Imithente. 2002. Awusay Ebhodweni. Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP4085
Imithente. 2003. Ngiyakushiya Mawulele. Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP40907
Imithente. 2004. Umnyango Ongenasikhiye. Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP40931
Imithente. 2005. Igaz Elibabayo. Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP40950
Imithente. 2006. Ake Niyek Ukukhuluma. Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP40974
Imithente. 2007. BambEzakho. Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP40992
Izingane Zoma. 1998. Impukane. Izingane Zoma Music. CDING005
Izingane Zoma. 2001. Inkunzi Yenja. Izingane Zoma Music. CDING039
Izingane Zoma. 2002. Utikoloshe. Izingane Zoma Music. CDING055
Izingane Zoma. 2003. Itshe Lentaba. Izingane Zoma Music. CDING074
Izingane Zoma. 2005. Msholozi. Izingane Zoma Music. CDING125
Izingane Zoma. 2006. Aphelile Amacala. Izingane Zoma Music. CDIZIOO7
Izingane Amakhosi. 2002. Siyakhuleka emeNgunini. Izingane Zoma Music. CDING054
Izingane Amakhosi. 2003. Umkhuba uLaykhaya. Izingane Zoma Music. CDING077
Mfaz Omnyama. 1997. Khula Tshitshi Lami. Gallo Recording Company. CDAFR 172
Mfaz Omnyama. 2001. Ngihlanze Ngedela. Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP 40861
Odadewethu. 2005. AmancamNcamu. Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP40941
Odadewethu. 2006. Imbungulu. Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP40963
Osenzeni. 2007. Senzeni? NTP Music. CDMM016
Osenzeni. 2007. Senzeni? NTP Music. DVDMM016
Phuzekhemisi noKhetani. 1992. Imbizo. Gallo Recording Company. CDGSP3105
Phuzekhemisi noKhetani. 1994. Emapalamende. RPM Record Company. CDTIG486
Phuzekhemisi. 1995. Impimpi. Gallo Recording Company. CDGSP3105
Phuzekhemisi. 1996. Ngo49. RPM Record Company. CDTIG527
Phuzekhemisi. 1999. Inkunzi Kabhejane. Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP40807
Phuzekhemisi. 2001. Nginenkinga. Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP40063
Phuzekhemisi. 2002. Amakhansela. Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP40886
Phuzekhemisi. 2003. We Baba. Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP40905
Phuzekhemisi. 2003. Phuzekhemisi. Video Logos Productions.
Phuzekhemisi. 2004. Uyisipoki. Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP40929
Phuzekhemisi. 2005. Sthandwa. Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP40947

References|211

Phuzekhemisi. 2006. Phuzekhemisi the best (the history of) Gallo Record Company
GMVDVD 044
Phuzekhemisi. 2007. Sesihlangene. Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP40989
Phuzushukela. 19561968. Troubadour:
.Katazile Mix no. AD 686. Catalogue no. BZ1314
.Nomoya Mix no. AD 687. Catalogue no. BZ1314
.Zakwetho Mix no. AD 902. Catalogue no. BZ1422
.Wabooma Mix no. AD 903. Catalogue no. BZ1422
.Usebensile Mix no. ADB 134. Catalogue no. BZ1498
.Ungqondo Mix no. ADB 135. Catalogue no. BZ1498
.Uzizeni Mix no. ADB 212. Catalogue no. BZ1529
.Amamfelenjana Mix no. ADB 213. Catalogue no. BZ1529
.Thando luphelile Mix no. ADB 328. Catalogue no. BZ1577
.Emakhabeleni Mix no. ADB 329. Catalogue no. BZ1577
.Diki Diki Mix no. ADB 422. Catalogue no. BZ1628
.Lalisa ingani Mix no. ADB 423. Catalogue no. BZ1628
.Nomnyaka Mix no. ADB 518. Catalogue no. BZ1660
.Dlala Baba Mix no. ADB 519. Catalogue no. BZ1660
.Khala nga khona Mix no. T19. Catalogue no. BZ1668
.Simanga singani Mix no. T20. Catalogue no. BZ1498
.Ngangingalele ekhaya Mix no. T43. Catalogue no. BZ1671
.Ma Nene Mix no. T44. Catalogue no. BZ1671
.Esivaneni Mix no. T6509. Catalogue no. BZ1733 (1965)
.Ntogwana Mix no. T6510. Catalogue no. BZ1733 (1965)
.Themba lami Mix no. 66141. Catalogue no. BZ1756 (1966)
.Isidwaba Mix no. 66142. Catalogue no. BZ1756 (1966)
.Umakotshana Mix no. 67125. Catalogue no. BZ1760 (1967)
.Mkhwenyana Mix no. 67126. Catalogue no. BZ1760 (1967)
.Ongizalayo Mix no. 67185. Catalogue no. BZ1761 (1967)
.Kukhalo bengeko Mix no. 67186. Catalogue no. BZ1761 (1967)
.Amazondo Mix no. 68275. Catalogue no. BZ1767 (1968)
.Ngeke ngi mqome Mix no. 68276. Catalogue no. BZ1767 (1968)
Shiyani Ngcobo. 2003. Master of Maskanda. Shiyani Ngcobo. Demo CD. Unpublished
Shiyani Ngcobo. 2004. Introducing Shiyani Ngcobo. World Music Network. SLCD063
Shonaphi Luthuli. 2003. Ngisizeni. Gallo Recording Company. CDGMP40902
Shwi noMtekhala. 2004. Wangisiza Baba. Bula Music. CDBULA 153
Shwi noMtekhala. 2005. Wangisiza Baba. DVD. Bula Music. DVDBULA002.
EF7/2005/0039
Shwi noMtekhala. 2006. Angimazi uBaba. Bula Music. CDBULA 200
Shwi noMtekhala. 2007.Kukhulu Engakubona. Bula Music. DVDBULA006/ DVDBULA212
Zondeni. 2004. Ishende Lami. Richie S Records. CDRSR173J

Index

Abanezono (Imithente song), 170

Abashayi bengoma (Phuzekhemisi song), 95
Adam (Imithente song), 169, 170
Adorno, Theodor, 11
African National Conference (ANC): conflict
with IFP, 6364, 7071, 94, 190; corruption
and, 9798; economic initiatives, 137; liberation movement ideology and, 18, 9697;
neoliberalism and, 126; transformation and,
17; Womens League, 14748
African renaissance notion, 171
African Studies, 4
Afrikaners: ethnic nationalism of, 179, 189;
National Party and, 14
Agawu, Kofi, 186
agency: democracy and, 126, 13738; music
making as form of, 125; performance and,
10; persona separation and, 1012; structure
and, 122, 12426; of women maskanda
musicians, 14345, 162, 17172, 174, 177,
17984, 19293; in womens maskanda
lyrics, 16668
AIDS, 82, 93, 95, 122, 132, 163, 19495,
201n73
Akwehlanga (Ngcobo song), 83
Allingham, Rob, 2830
Althusser, Louis, 10, 124, 143, 201n56
Amabhinca (Zulu traditionalists), 21
Amabutho (Imithente song), 169
amabutho (songs of war), 157
Amadoda (iHashiElimhlophe song), 11011
Amagubhi amane (Phuzushukela song), 52
Amagugu aKwaZulu, 176

Amagumbi Amane (Phuzushukela album),

49
amahubo, 39, 51, 169
Amakhansela (Phuzekhemisi album),88, 95
Amakhansela (Phuzekhemisi song), 88, 95
Amakholwa (Zulu mission-educated Christians), 21
amakwaya (music genre), 46
Amalungelo (MfazOmnyama song),
14950, 168
Amamfelenjane [Amamfelenjana] (Phuzushukela song), 31, 41
Amamgama Akho (Phuzushukela song),
6061
Amamponi, 1023
Amaphoyisa (Phuzekhemisi song), 94
Amaqubu (iHashiElimhlophe song), 105
Amasango (Imithente song), 170
Amashum Amahlanu (Imithente song),
171, 172
Amasiko (iHashiElimhlophe song), 108,
10910, 201n66
Amathinta (Imithente song), 169
Amazondo (Imithente song), 170
Amazondo (Phuzushukela song), 31, 3941
ancestor worship, 5253, 1023, 127, 13536,
164, 180, 183
Angimazi uBaba (Shwi Nomtekhala album),
114, 117
Angisiy Umbulali (Phuzekhemisi song), 89
apartheid: demise of, xiiixiv; dompas
system under, 203n30; ideological constraints imposed by, 36; legacy of, 85, 185;

214|Index

maskanda during, xii, 8, 11, 1215, 2355,

11213, 12527, 189, 195; music business
and, 101; private vs. public life during, 132;
programmed maskanda drumbeats and, 58;
racial attitudes during, 45, 5455, 67, 7374,
12526, 127, 130, 13840, 189; rugby during, 91; women under, 164
Aphelile Amacala (Izingane Zoma album),
155, 15758, 16061
Aphelile Amacala (Izingane Zoma song),
162
Appiah, Kwame Anthony, 186
Asazi Nibangani (Phuzekhemisi song), 89
Asazi (Phuzekhemisi song), 90
Ashforth, Adam, 133, 136
Asibancishe (Izingane Zoma song), 163, 165
Asithadenezi (Shwi Nomtekhala song), 122
authenticity, signifiers of, 910
Awusay Ebhodweni (Imithente album),170,
171
Awuyona Mali (iHashiElimhlophe song),
112
Ballantine, Christopher, 14546
BEE program, 137
belonging, notion of, 74, 81
Bengu, John. See Phuzushukela
Bhoja Bhoja (Masina album), 16768
Blacking, John, 199n8(2)
Bomama base South Africa (Nhlebela
song), 17879
Bourdieu, Pierre: gender relations viewed by,
143, 144, 181; habitus notion, 7, 89, 123,
125; neoliberalism viewed by, 203n4; position as used by, 197n1; sociodicy viewed
by, 202n4
Boyer, Pascal, 12
Buthelezi, Irene, 60, 198n3(2)
Buthelezi, Mangosuthu, 14, 128, 147, 148,
189, 198n12(1)
call-and-response in maskanda: bass guitar
phrases as, 104; melodic phrases as, 34; in
Phuzekhemisis vocals, 90; in Phuzushukelas vocals, 4142, 4647; in womens
maskanda, 152, 165
Caluza, Reuben, 198n7(1)
Campbell, Catherine, 128
capitalism: African, 1718, 19; maskanda
and, 8
Carnegie Hall (New York), 7677
change. See transformation
Christianity in South Africa, 1023, 11112,
13435, 193

Cishe Safa (Phuzekhemisi song), 62, 6364

Clegg, Johnny, 22, 23, 2425, 39, 5960, 142,
178
Clifford, James, 16
commercial production of maskanda:
apartheid and, 48, 18889; change to
band format and, 24; musicians agency
and, 100101; record companies and, 29;
standardization and, xii, 8, 2526, 5669;
success and, 11718; taboo subjects and,
19495; womens groups and, 181; Zuluness
and, 1213
Communist Party, 126
COPE (Congress of the People), 98, 200n34
Coplan, David: In Township Tonight!, 2728
COSATU, 126
Dark City Sisters, 169, 170
Davies, Nollene, 2324, 25, 76
DeNora, Tia, 124
Dhlomo, H. L. E., 4344
difference, concept of, 18586, 187, 190
Diki Diki (Phuzushukela song), 31, 41, 43
Dlala Baba (Phuzushukela song), 31, 32
Dryzek, John, 126
Dube, John, 198n14
Durban city hall, xi
Eagleton, Terry, 123
Ebony. See Ngcobo, Linah
Egoli (Phuzekhemisi song), 94
Emakhabeleni (Phuzushukela song), 31,
32
Emapalamende (Phuzekhemisi noKhetani
album), 5669, 87, 89, 93, 200n35
Emapalamende (Phuzekhemisi song), 62,
6467, 9394
Embangweni (Phuzekhemisi song), 9495
Emdaka, Inkunzi, 87
emic/etic concept, 23
Erlmann, Veit: Nightsong, 2627, 45, 119
Esinawani [Esivaneni] (Phuzushukela
song), 31, 3839
ethnic nationalism. See identity; Zuluness
ethnomusicologists: choices made by, 12,
7273, 115, 17475, 187; concept of difference and, 18586, 187; emic/etic concept
and, 23
experience, concept of: authenticity and,
10; identity and, 130, 13132; individual
representations of, 187; maskanda and, xi;
otherness and, 18586; reality and, 3; as
term, 122, 12324
Eyre, Banning, 76

Index|215

familial relationships, migrant workers and, 5,

1617, 132, 142, 14546, 18384
FRoots Magazine, 76
Full Gospel Church, 134
Gallo Record Company, 29, 56, 101, 153
Gaye, Marvin, 133
gaze, exchange of, 2
GEAR program, 137
gender roles, changes and tensions: izibongo
lyrics reflection of, 54; maskanda choruses,
59, 17071; migrancy and, 5, 16, 21, 132;
patriarchy and, 14647, 15556, 163, 181,
184; power relations and, 14451, 17980,
183; theorizing gender in South Africa,
14348; Vilikazis songs on, 22; women
maskanda musicians and, 141, 17981; in
womens maskanda, 15560, 16568, 171,
18284, 193; womens maskanda and, 1617
Gillett, Charlie, 76
Gilroy, Paul, 202n76
gospel music, 105, 1078, 13435, 169, 170,
193
Graceland (Simon album), 121
guitar: electric, 3839; in maskanda, xii, 20,
22, 23, 2425, 55, 170; strummed playing
style, 3235, 89; ukupika plucked playing
style, 2425, 29, 3541
Gumbi, Lungile, xiv
habitus, notion of, 711, 123, 125, 197n2
Hassim, Shireen, 147
Heidegger, Martin, 197n5
Hellbrunn, Daryl, 64, 199n8(1)
Hlanganani (Phuzekhemisi song), 63
hlonipha, concept of, 147, 180
Hobsbawm, Eric: The Invention of Tradition
(with Ranger), 12
Hornbostel, Erich von, 185
identity: born-again Christians and, 1023,
11112; construction of, 12223, 140;
culture and, 89; essence, 142; ethnic
nationalism and, 1213, 14, 25, 2728,
5455, 60, 6769, 12530, 13839, 187,
189; gender and power, 14348; gender and
race, 142, 17980; iHashiElimhlophes
songs on, 11011; new configurations of,
1819, 13840; othering and, 18586;
political affiliation and, 14, 18, 60, 6364,
86, 9394; power and, 123; as process, 123;
rural homestead and, 8587; as social construct, 4; tradition and, 1112, 127, 14648
identity issues in maskanda: tradition and,

1112, 2528, 7273, 127; Zuluness and,

xi, 56, 1215, 19, 25, 26, 47, 48, 72, 77,
11213, 122, 12530, 13940, 188, 190, 195
Igama Lami (Phuzekhemisi song), 94
Igaz Elibabayo (Imithente album), 169, 171,
202n21
Igaz Elibabayo (Imithente song), 170
igogogo guitar, 76, 100
iHashiElimhlophe (Bheki Ngcobo), 72, 87,
99114; as born-again Christian, 1023, 111
12, 134; children of, 1023; Durban city hall
performance, xi; experiences as expressed
by, 131, 194; first guitar of, 100; izibongo in
maskanda of, 104, 105, 1067, 108, 113; life
and career, 99103; lyrics of, 10812, 13233,
139; maskanda/gospel songs, 1078, 13435;
maskanda/kwaito songs, 1057, 133, 134;
music of, 1038; musical flexibility of, 101,
130; nonstandard maskanda songs, 1058,
114; Phuzushukelas influence on, 100101,
103; separation of persona from private life,
1012; standard maskanda songs, 1045;
success of, 190; transformation viewed by,
11214, 191; urban environment of, 100101,
130, 134, 191; use of English lyrics, 110; wife
as manager for, 102
iJuba, 76
Ikhubalo Lenyanga (Phuzushukela album),
49
Imbabazane, 165, 166
Imbizo (Phuzekhemisi noKhetani album),
5669, 86
Imbizo (Phuzekhemisi song), 5658, 63,
93, 128
imfilitshi (mouth organ), 22
imihlati, 5960
Imithente, 16873; izibongo in maskanda of,
17071, 182; male presence asserted in, 182;
men as songwriters for, 17172, 181; Osenzeni compared with, 177; song repertoire,
16972; stylistic amalgamation, 16870;
success of, 174, 181
Imitshotshovu, 101
Impimpi (Phuzekhemisi album), 88, 89, 94
Impukane (Izingane Zoma album), 153
inbetweeners, 21, 23, 131. See also migrant
workers
Indigenous Music Project, 175
Induna Yezinsizwa (Phuzekhemisi song), 94
ingoma dance: by audience, xi; as competition, 6061; as identity marker, 13, 24, 26,
69, 121; locational specificity of, 5960; in
Nhlebelas maskanda, 176, 178; in Phuzekhemisis maskanda, 61, 67, 18990

216|Index

Inja Yami (Phuzekhemisi song), 65

Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP): conflict with
ANC, 94, 190; patriarchy and, 147; Phuzekhemisi and, 6768; Zulu nationalism and,
14, 60, 86, 138, 189
Inkatha Womens Brigade, 14748
Inkunzi Kabhejane (Phuzekhemisi album),
9495
Inkunzi Kabhejane (Phuzekhemisi song),
94
Insingizi (Imithente song), 202n21
instrumentation of maskanda, xii, 20, 24, 48,
56, 87, 9293, 170, 176, 189
intela (maskanda introductory section), 24.
See also izihlabo
interpellation, notion of, 10, 143, 181, 201n56
Into Yakadala (iHashiElimhlophe song),
111
Introducing Shiyani Ngcobo (album), 75, 76
Intuthuko (Izingane Zoma song), 15860
inyanga (healer), 53, 127
Iputh Elikabani (Imithente song), 171, 173
Iqonyelw Ezinye (Imithente song), 169
Isandlulane (Imithente song), 171
Isemanzini Inyoka (Phuzushukela song),
5253
Ishende Lami (Zondeni album), 16667
isiBhaca style of ingoma, 61
isicathamiya (musical genre), 2627, 59, 90,
116, 118, 119, 12122, 16970
Isidwaba (Phuzushukela song), 31, 39, 42
isidwaba (term), 198n10
Isifebe Sendoda (Izingane Zoma song), 155,
157
isiKhuze style of ingoma, 61
Isikhwela Jo, 119
Isikhwele (Zondeni song), 167
Isiphalaphala (iHashiElimhlophe album),
103, 105, 201n66
isishameni style of ingoma, 5960
Isisheli Sami (Phuzekhemisi song), 58
Isithembu (Ngcobo song), 83
Isithothobala (Ngcobo song), 83
ixhanti (supernatural), 5253
Ixube Ledushu (Izingane Zoma song),
15758
izangoma (diviners; faith healers), 52, 202n20
izangoma music, 169, 183
Izangoma (Ngcobo song), 82, 135
izibongo (Zulu praise poetry): assertive
nature of, 81; in bow songs, 23, 81, 142;
context of lyrics in, 5354; as identity
marker in maskanda, 13, 24, 4344; in

iHashiElimhlophes maskanda, 104, 105,

1067, 108, 113; in Imithentes maskanda,
17071, 182; in Masinas maskanda, 168;
meaning of, 198n3(1); in Ngcobos maskanda, 8081; in Nhlebelas maskanda, 177;
in Phuzekhemisis maskanda, 67, 81, 88,
92; in Phuzushukelas maskanda, 2829, 41,
4345, 5354; Shwi Nomtekhalas omission
of, 121; womens omission of, 153
Izifundiswa (Phuzekhemisi song), 95
izihlabo (maskanda introductory section), 24,
36, 8890, 118, 153, 154, 170
Izindaba Zakho (Phuzekhemisi album),
200n28
Izingane Zoma, 116, 15365, 200n51; groups
public presentation, 15354; meaning of
name, 154; men as songwriters for, 16162,
181; musical flatness of, 15657; Osenzeni compared with, 177; performances
as Izingane Amakhosi, 16364; songs of,
15465; standardized song formula of, 154;
stylistic features, 15455; success of, 174,
181
Izinhlangano (Phuzekhemisi song), 94
Izintombi Zesi Manje Manje, 29
Izinyembezi (Ngcobo song), 82
iziqinti, 5960
Izwe Lokhokho (Luthuli song), 15051
Jabula Mngoma (Imithente song), 169
jazz, 170
Johnson, Neil, 160
Joseph, Rosemary, 81
Kanti Unjani (iHashiElimhlophe song), 110
Karatani, Kojin, 3
Katazile (Phuzushukela song), 30, 32, 3435
Kaya FM, 160
Khala nga Khona (Phuzushukela song), 31,
3738
Khetani, 56, 86, 87, 189
Khuluma Nami (iHashiElimhlophe song),
1078, 139, 201n67
Khuzeka (Imithente song), 170
Khuzwayo, Busani, 154
knowledge, experiential, 10
Knudsen, John, Chr., 1516
Kukhalo bengekho [bengeko] (Phuzushukela song), 31, 3941
Kukhulu Engakhubona (Shwi Nomtekhala
album), 114; DVD production, 115
Kumnyama Kuleziyantaba (Imithente
song), 169
kwaito/house genre, 1057, 133, 134, 200n42

Index|217

KwaZulu-Natal, University of, 77, 84

kwela style, 62
Ladysmith Black Mambazo, 90
Lalisa Ingane [ingani] (Phuzushukela song),
31, 37, 42
Langalibalele (as name), 198n14
Langalibalele (Phuzushukela song), 52
LethUmashini Wami (Zumas theme song),
202n16
liberation movement and ideology: ANCs
association with, 18; color representation
of, 197n10; criticism and, 9697, 148,
16062; gender relations, 14748, 16465;
postcolonialism and, 18687; promise of,
19; rhetoric of, 94; socialism and, 112
life stories of maskanda musicians, 1516
Lita label, 29
liveness (term), 58, 198n1(2)
lobola (bride price), 42, 95, 115, 127, 17980
Luthuli, Bhekumuzi, 132, 15051, 183,
201n68, 202n9
Ma Nene (Phuzushukela song), 31, 38
Mabhungu (Shwi Nomtekhala song),
11920
Madikizela-Mandela, Winnie, 7072, 9697
Mafumadi, Sydney, 200n30
Magogo, Constance, 23
Magubane, Mqapheleni, 153
Magubane, Uzwe Linduna, 114. See also Shwi
Nomtekhala
Magwaza, Thenjiwe, 144
Makeba, Miriam, 90
Malibongwe Conference, 147
Malume (Phuzekhemisi song), 6566
Mandela, Nelson, 200n49
marabi style, 62, 105, 198
Mar, Gerhard, 128
Marks, David, 76, 199n10
Marxists, African, 1718, 19
Masakela, Hugh, 90
Masikane, Luyanda, xiv
Masina, Hazel, 16768
Masiteng, Kefiloe, 201n73
maskanda: agency and, 125, 174, 182; during
apartheid, xii, 8, 11, 1215, 2355, 11213,
12527, 189, 195; authenticity and, 910;
authors study of, xiixiv; band versions,
24, 26, 29, 30, 51, 55, 5669; CDs of, xii;
commercial production of, xii, 8, 1213,
24, 2526, 29, 48, 5669, 100101, 11718,
181, 18889, 19495; competitions, 201n63;
dance styles associated with, 24; dialectical

tension in, 5; differing views of, 1415,

18788; early years, 45, 1011, 2155, 188;
as entertainment, 133, 195; evolution of,
78, 18384, 19396; as experience, xi, 130,
13132; female umakhweyana and imfilitshi
music as precedent for, 22, 23, 142; gender
assertion in, 55, 142; guitar in, xii, 20, 22,
23, 2425, 3233, 35, 89; as habitus, 711;
ingoma dance and, 13, 24, 67, 69, 176, 178,
180; instruments used in, xii, 20, 24, 48,
56, 87, 9293, 170, 176, 189; life stories
in, 1516; melodies, 32, 3539, 5859, 80,
8788, 104; mens, in context of transformation, 12240; musical roots of, 2325; past
vs. present in, xixii, 6, 26, 2728, 5051,
55, 12930, 13839, 188, 19596; phases
of, 1011; post-apartheid, 11, 1719, 28,
70140, 18996; research on, 119, 7273;
retuning of guitar E-string in, 80; shifting
meanings, 34; as solo practice, 24, 26;
standardized form of, xii, 24, 26, 4849, 68,
87, 104, 153, 188; stylistic features of womens music, 15253, 167; tonality, 32, 3435,
46, 4950, 69; as tradition, 1112, 2528,
7273, 127; transformation and, 36, 1719,
17475, 18996; Western performances of,
19; womens music perceived as variant of
mens music, 167, 18184, 19293; Zuluness and, xi, 56, 1215, 19, 25, 26, 47, 48,
6162, 6869, 72, 122, 12526, 13940,
188, 190, 195. See also izibongo; specific
composers and performers
maskanda lyrics: ambiguity of, xiv, 42, 4445,
6364, 6667, 68, 178; change as subject,
95, 18384; family as subject, 6566, 128;
gender relations as subject, 15560, 16568,
171, 18283, 193; health and illness as subjects, 8384, 95, 109, 122, 132; identity as
subject, 111; of iHashiElimhlophe, 10812;
money as subject, 11112, 11314; music as
subject, 4243; of Ngcobo, 8285; personalization of, 1314; of Phuzekhemisi, 6367,
9398; of Phuzushukela, 4147, 5153;
political content in, 6365, 9398, 13334,
16063; poverty as subject, 94, 122, 128,
13738, 190, 195; power issues in, 5153, 63,
12829; rape as subject, 156; religious and
spiritual issues in, 51, 5253, 122, 132, 134
37, 169; rugby as subject, 9193; rural poor
as subject, 63; rural/urban dialectic, 2223,
5051, 55, 6869, 94, 95, 96, 100, 115,
127, 188, 189, 191; social commentaries,
10812; taboo subjects, 93, 95, 132, 19495;
traditions as subject, 42, 10910, 127; use of

218|Index

contemporary terminology, 13132; use of

English, 110, 131, 140; violence as subject,
9495; war and conflict as subjects, 169;
women as subject, 22, 42, 5253, 94, 111,
122, 127, 13233, 14951, 16263, 171, 183;
in womens songs, 153, 16568
maskanda musicians: early, 2122; male,
in post-apartheid South Africa, 70140;
migrant workers as, 2122, 23, 27, 146;
reputation as unreliable husbands, 21. See
also women maskanda musicians
Maye (Phuzekhemisi song), 62, 66, 200n35;
alternate version, 6263
Mayise, B. X., 16162
Mayise, S. Z., 16162
Mayr, Franz, 20
mbaqanga (musical genre): guitar sound in,
38, 41, 46, 104, 106, 121, 170; instrumentation in, 189; maskandas differences from,
49, 90; maskandas relationship with, 26, 27;
Nzimandes work with, 29; Soul Brothers
group, 101; Special Five group, 199n25;
umgqashiyo bass tyle, 119
Mbeki, Thabo, 126, 160, 201n58, 202n15
Mbokazi, Stopsign, 154
mbube (musical genre), 118
Mchunu, Moses, 200n39
Mchunu, Sipho, 152
Meintjes, Louise, 198n2(2), 199n25
MELT2000, 76
Meyiwa, Aaron, 78, 7980
MfazOmnyama, 87, 14950, 168, 183
mgashiyo (musical genre), 104
migrant workers: alienation and insecurity of,
74, 132, 14546; gender relations and, 5,
1617, 21, 22, 132, 142, 18384; homeland
policy and, 14546; as maskanda musicians,
2122, 23, 27, 146; rural/urban dialectic,
2223, 26, 27, 188
Mkhulu (iHashiElimhlophe album), 1034,
201n72
Mkhwebane, NoThembi, 87
Mkhwenyana (Phuzushukela song), 31, 39
Mkiva, Zolani, 202n21
Mnyandu, Johnson. See Phuzekhemisi
Morrell, Robert, 13
Movement for Democratic Change (MDC;
Zimbabwe), 70, 72
Mpanza, Zandile, 202n8
Mpungose, Lindokuhle, xiv
Msholozi (Izingane Zoma album), 155,
16063
Msholozi (Phuzekhemisi song), 90, 161, 162
Mtaka baba (Phuzekhemisi song), 94

Mthethwa, Bongani, 76, 199n8(2)

Mudimbe, V. Y., 123, 186
Mugabe, Robert, 9697
Muller, Carol, 21, 22, 39
Muntuza (iHashiElimhlophe album), 103,
1057
Muntuza (iHashiElimhlophe song), 1057,
111
muti magic, 52, 127
National Party: Afrikaner nationalism and, 14;
homeland policy of, 145
neoliberalism, 1718, 19, 85, 126, 13334,
13738, 16465, 195, 203n4
Ngangingalele ekhaya (Phuzushukela song),
31, 38
Ngayibon inqaba (Phuzushukela song), 54
Ngcobo, Bheki. See iHashiElimhlophe
(Bheki Ngcobo)
Ngcobo, Khetuwise, 75, 199n3
Ngcobo, Linah, 99, 101, 1023, 200n41
Ngcobo, Shiyani, 72, 7385; authors meetings with, xiii; aversion to western drum
kit, 7879; death of, xiii, 73; experiences
as expressed by, 131, 13738, 19091;
family problems of, 7475; first guitar of,
75; identity discourse, 85, 131; illnesses of,
8384; international recognition of, 7677,
19091; izibongo in maskanda of, 8081;
Kwamakhutu home of, 75; life and career,
7377; lyrics of, 8285; on meaning of
Phuzushukelas song Isemanzini inyoka,
52; music of, 7881; religion and, 135; virtuosity of, 84; vocal registers of, 80; Zuluness
as viewed by, 77, 131
Ngeke ngi mqome (Phuzushukela song),
31, 3941
Ngeke Thuthuke (Ngcobo song), 82
Ngihamba Ngebhanoyi (Phuzekhemisi
song), 90
Ngihlanze Ngedela (MfazOmnyama album),
14950
Ngisizeni (Ngcobo song), 8283, 190
Ngitshele Sthandwa (Shwi Nomtekhala
song), 120, 122, 201n65
Ngiyakushiya Mawulele (Imithente album),
169, 170
Ngiyethwasa (Phuzushukela song), 51, 52
Ngo49 (Phuzekhemisi song), 200n50
Ngofika Ngithini (Phuzushukela song), 53,
198n15
Ngowaja [Ntogwana] (Phuzushukela song),
31, 3839, 42
Ngubane, Mfiliseni, 176

Index|219

Nhlapo, Joseph, 27
Nhlebela, Senzeni Maureen, 17481, 182;
agency of, 174, 17981, 184; life and career,
17576, 180; Osenzeni group of, 17779,
180
Nhleko, Malcolm, 175
Nkosi, West, 62, 64
Nomnyaka (Phuzushukela song), 31, 37
Nomoya (Phuzushukela song), 30, 32,
3435, 42, 43
Ntombela, MandlaIndoda, 114; early life,
11617. See also Shwi Nomtekhala
Ntshingila, Madoda, 154
Nuttall, Sarah, 1819
Nzimande, Bhodloza Welcome, 1314, 23,
64, 67, 198n7(2), 198n11(1)
Nzimande, Hamilton, 29
Odadewethu, 162
100% iHashi (iHashiElimhlophe album),
104, 105, 110
Opondo, Patricia, 199n15
Osenzeni, 174, 17779, 180
othering, 18586
Owayizalayo [Ongizalayo] (Phuzushukela
song), 31, 3941
parallax view, notion of, 23, 7273, 124, 187
pennywhistle, 62
Phumengena (Zondeni song), 166
Phuzekhemisi (Johnson Mnyandu), 72,
8599; authors meetings with, xiii; chorus
sections in maskandas, 59, 122; concertina
and drums in music of, 92; cyclical patterns
in maskandas, 5859; Durban city hall performance, xi; early recordings, 5669, 189;
ethnic nationalism and, 6769; expansion
to broader South African market, 9091,
9899, 114; experiences as expressed by,
131, 194; flute used by, 90; ingoma as used
by, 61, 67, 18990; investment in maskanda
persona, 1012; izibongo in maskanda of,
67, 81, 88, 92; izihlabo introductory sections, 8890; later recordings, 8893; life
and career, 8587; on life in post-apartheid
South Africa, 9899; lyrics on early recordings, 6367; lyrics on later recordings,
9398; meaning of name, 198n5(1); music
of, 8793; musical style on early recordings,
5763; Phuzushukelas influence on, 5657,
69; politics and, 6365, 6768, 86, 9398,
12829, 191, 192; programmed drumbeat
used by, 58; religion and, 135; rural identity,
8587, 94, 191, 192; songs with strummed

guitar accompaniment, 62, 89; songs with

unaccompanied vocals, 90; success of,
28, 190; uniformity in songs, 59, 6162;
vocables used by, 62; woman drummer
used by, 152; Zulu ethnic nationalism and,
12829
Phuzekhemisi noKethani (duo), 86, 189
Phuzushukela (John Bengu), 26, 2855;
albums recorded by, 30; change from solo
performance to band lineup, 29, 30, 51,
55, 189; death, 29; early musical style, 32,
4647; early recordings, 3032, 68, 188,
189; female vocalist used by, 3941; iconic
status, 28; influence of, 30, 48, 5657,
100101, 103; later musical style, 4851;
later songs, 4855, 68, 189; life and career,
2830; lyrics in early songs, 4147, 5153,
127, 128; meaning of name, 198n4(1);
recording career, 29; songs with plucked
and strummed guitar accompaniment,
41; songs with plucked guitar accompaniment, 3541; songs with strummed guitar
accompaniment, 3235; style evolution,
5455; ukupika guitar-playing style of,
2425, 29; variant tuning systems simultaneously used by, 4951; variations in songs,
3132, 4546; Zulu ethnic nationalism and,
5455, 12728
position (term), 7, 197n1
postcolonialism, 18687
power, culture and: correlations between,
9, 12829; gender relations and, 14348,
15051, 15560, 16263; identity construction and, 123; maskanda production and,
18889; neoliberalism and, 85; women maskanda musicians and, 141, 14445, 184
Prevention of Family Violence Act (1993), 156
Priority Records, 101
Ranger, Terrence: The Invention of Tradition
(with Hobsbawm), 12
Rycroft, David, 46
Sabelo, Linda, 154, 16062, 16364, 202n13
Safa indlala (Phuzushukela song), 52, 53
Said, Edward, 123
Savota (Phuzekhemisi song), 94
Schraeder, Peter, 1718
Sebenza emgodini (iHashiElimhlophe
song), 105
Sehlule Umkhomazi (Phuzushukela album),
30, 48, 50, 5153
Sehlule uMkhomazi (Phuzushukela song), 51
Sengikukhumbule (Izingane Zoma song), 155

220|Index

Sengiyahamba (Phuzekhemisi album),

198n1(2)
Senzeni (Ngcobo song), 82, 84
Senzeni (Phuzekhemisi song), 57, 62
Sesihlangene (Phuzekhemisi album), 89,
9093, 96, 9899, 114, 129, 200n36
Sesihlangene (Phuzekhemisi song), 90,
9193
Sevelina (Ngcobo song), 199n3
Shabodien, Fatima, 70
Shaik, Sehabir, 97
Shaka, Zulu King, 60, 12728
Shembe music, 169
Shwi Nomtekhala, 72, 11422; Christian
lyrics, 134; DVD productions, 115, 117,
19192; experiences as expressed by, 131,
133; isicathamiya and mbaqanga influences,
118, 119, 12122; mellow sounds of, 133;
public image, 11418, 12930; rural/urban
dialectic, 11517, 11921, 12930, 19192;
songs of, 11822, 133; success of, 190; use
of contemporary terminology in lyrics, 132;
vocables used by, 121
Sibambelentulo (Imbazane album), 165
SibanjiwIsilwane (Nhlebela song), 178
Sibimtaka Dadewethu (Phuzekhemisi album),
198n1(2)
Simanga Singane [singani] (Phuzushukela
song), 31, 3738
Simon, Paul, 121, 133
Simuntanyi, Neo, 126
Singing in an Open Space (compilation CD),
28, 200n39
Skylarks, the, 170
Smith, Ian, 9697, 200n31
socialism, African, 1718
sociodicy (term), 146, 202n4
Soul Brothers, 29, 101
South Africa: all-female musical groups, 1930s,
14546; during apartheid, 8, 11, 1213, 15,
12527, 185; current identity divisions in,
1819; ethnic nationalism in, 1314, 20, 25,
2728, 5455; group designations in, 7374;
historys weight in, 7172; neoliberalism
in, 19, 13334; post-apartheid transformation, xiiixiv, 36, 1719, 28, 7072, 9399,
12324, 126, 13940, 171; postcolonialism in,
18687; syncretic music styles, 2122; theorizing gender in, 14348; unemployment in,
112, 137, 201n73. See also specific topics
South African Music Association (SAMA)
awards, 11718, 200n52
South African political parties, ethnic identity
and, 14, 60, 6364, 86, 12829, 191

South African Traditional Music Association

(SATMA) awards, 117, 200n52
Special Five, 86, 199n25
Spivak, Gayatri C., 164, 186
Standwa (Phuzekhemisi album), 90
stick fighting. See umgangela (stick fighting)
Sxaxa Mbij (Phuzekhemisi recording series),
87
Takk Studio, 174
Tee Vee label, 29
Thando Luphelile (Phuzushukela song), 31,
41, 4243, 4445
Thatha Izibhamu (iHashiElimhlophe
song), 1089
Themba lami (Phuzushukela song), 31, 39
Thomson, Alistair, 16
township music, 25, 105, 170
Tracey, Hugh, 18586
tradition: concept of, 1112, 25; gender and,
14648, 183; maskanda and, 2528, 68,
7273, 11920, 127, 188; past as temporal
arena, 6
transformation: African renaissance notion,
171; agency and democracy, 126; complexity of, 13840; difference as signifier, 187;
expectations of, 4, 194; experiencing,
18596; identity and, 46, 89, 99103;
iHashiElimhlophe on, 11214; marginalization and, 85, 19192; maskanda as
platform for, 36, 17475, 18996; mens
maskanda in context of, 12240; morality
and, 17; neoliberalism and, 1718, 19, 85,
126, 13334, 13738, 16465, 195, 203n4;
politicization of in South Africa, 4, 1719,
7071, 9394, 112, 12223, 13334, 190,
191, 200n49; racial discourse and, 13940;
tradition and, 12; womens stasis under,
16465
Troubadour label, 26, 29, 30
Trunz, Robert, 199n11
Trutone, 29
Tsimba, Kennedy, 9192
Tusk Records, 101
U Zuma (Phuzekhemisi song), 9798
Ubunthu-botho, 147
uBuntu, notion of, 114
ubunyanga (healer), 109
uDadewethu (Ngcobo song), 80, 82
ughubu bow music, 7
Ukhosi FM, 160
Ukondla [Ungqondo] (Phuzushukela song),
31, 3637

Index|221

ukubalisa (longing), 81
ukugiya solo combat dance, 44
Ukuhlabelela (Nhlebela song), 174
ukuhlonipa, notion of, 43
Ukuhlupeka (Shwi Nomtekhala song),
12021, 192
ukupika guitar-playing style, 2425, 29, 89
UKUSA, 77, 199n16
uMagababa (Phuzekhemisi song), 95
umakhweyana bow music, 22, 23, 32, 3334,
47, 76, 81
Umakotshana (Phuzushukela song), 31, 39, 42
uMaqondana (Zondeni song), 166
Umehluko (Phuzekhemisi song), 96
uMendo (Ngcobo song), 79
UmfazOmnamyama, xi
umgangela (stick fighting), 42, 60, 190
umgqashiyo bass style, 119
Umhlaba (iHashiElimhlophe album), 1078
Umkonto Records, 86
Umnyango Onegnasikhiye (Imithente album),
169, 170
umtagathi (witchcraft), 74, 8384
Ungangithinti Singavumelene (Izingane
Zoma song), 15556, 158, 163
Ungowami (iHashiElimhlophe song), 111
Unkulukulu Wenza Intwnhle
(iHashiElimhlophe song), 11112
Usebensile (Phuzushukela song), 30, 3637
Uthando Lunjani (iHashiElimhlophe
song), 105
Uthando Selungehlule (Phuzushukela album),
30, 48, 53
Uthuli Lwezichwe (Imithente song), 169
Uxolo Sisi (Imbazane song), 165, 166
Uyashikiza (iHashiElimhlophe song), 108,
109
Uyisipoki (Phuzekhemisi album), 89, 9597
Uzakwethu (Phuzushukela song), 53
Uzizeni (Phuzushukela song), 31, 41
uZuma (Phuzekhemisi song), 89, 90
Venturas, Themi, 176
Vilikazi, Thami, 22
Vumani Ngisindiswe (iHashiElimhlophe
song), 201n72
vuvuzela (Zulu trumpet), 136, 157
Walker, Cherryl, 128
Wangisiza Baba (Shwi Nomtekhala album),
114, 201n65; DVD production, 115, 117;
SAMA award for, 11718
Wangisiza Baba (Shwi Nomtekhala song),
11617, 11819

Waphuma [Wabooma] (Phuzushukela

song), 30, 3536, 42, 198n8
Wathinta amabhubesi (Phuzushukela song),
51
Wayithathaphi (Ngcobo song), 8081
Wayithinta inyamazane (Phuzushukela
song), 51
We Baba (Phuzekhemisi album), 95
We Baba Wami (Phuzekhemisi song), 58,
89
We Mafumadi (Phuzekhemisi song), 96
We Makhoti (Masina song), 168
We Malume (Phuzekhemisi album), 198n1(2)
We Mayihlome (Phuzushukela song), 53
We Shiya Abantabami (Phuzekhemisi album),
198n1(2)
Weba Holi (Phuzekhemisi song), 89, 94
Wehlobo Lwami (Phuzekhemisi song), 65
witchcraft, 74, 8384, 13637
women as maskanda subjects, 22, 42, 5253,
94, 111, 122, 127, 13233, 14951, 16263,
171, 183
women instrumentalists, scarcity of, 15152,
182
women maskanda musicians, 14148, 15173;
amateur, 151; authors interactions with,
xiii, 1617, 14142; Imithente group,
16873, 182; izihlabo of, 153, 154; Izingane
Zoma group, 15365, 182; Nhlebela as,
17481, 182; performance style constraints,
144, 145, 15152, 162, 19293; scarcity as
instrumentalists, 152, 182; stylistic features
of music, 15253, 16568, 18283; subjects
of lyrics, 13637, 193; Zondeni, 16667,
18283
womens rights in South Africa, 14142; culture and, 144; demonstrations and, 70, 72;
feminism and, 14445; post-apartheid, 148,
171; race and, 142; Zuluness and, 14748
womens umakhweyana and imfilitshi music,
22, 23, 81, 142
World Music Network, 76
Yeganini (Ngcobo song), 82
Zakwethu [Zakwetho] (Phuzushukela song),
30, 3536
Zegeye, 18
Zimbabwe, 70, 72, 9697
Zimbabwe (Phuzekhemisi song), 9697
Zionists, 135, 136
iek, Slavoj: interpellation as viewed by,
201n56; parallax view notion, 2, 3, 7273,
124, 187

222|Index

Zondeni, 16667, 18283

Zulu guitar songs, 21, 22, 23, 33, 48
Zulu war songs, 51, 169
Zuluness: authenticity signifier, 10; bornagain Christians and, 1023, 11112;
during early twentieth century, 45; ethnic
nationalism and, 1213, 25, 2728, 5455,
6769, 12830, 18990, 19192; ingoma
and, 6061; Inkatha Freedom Party and,
14, 60; izibongo and, 43; maskanda and, xi,

56, 1215, 19, 25, 26, 47, 48, 6162, 6869,

72, 11213, 122, 12530, 16364, 188,
190, 195; Ngcobos views on, 77; patriarchy
and, 14748; post-apartheid views of, 130,
13940; rural homestead and, 8587, 94;
warrior identity and, 179
Zuma, Jacob, 9798, 16062, 202nn1416
Zwelithini, Zulu King, 169
Zwozwa Ngempama (iHashiElimhlophe
song), 108

About the Author

Kathryn Olsen is a Lecturer in Ethnomusicology and Popular Music Studies

at the University of KwaZulu-Natal, Durban, South Africa.