Peter Makurube traces the remarkable career of Mahlatini, `the Lion of Soweto’, who died last week
The death of singer Simon “Mahlatini” Nkabinde last week Wednesday came as no suprise. He was already ill from diabetes. There was always hope, though, that he’d survive to come back as he’d done in his working life of 35 years. He had made more comebacks than even Brenda Fassie could manage.
There was a time when radio was not complete without Mahlatini and the Mahotella Queens – the days of Radio Bantu, the SABC’s black service. While the national broadcaster was the band’s biggest supporter, Mahlatini and the Queens rocked the nation with or without radio. In those days the culture of concerts in the townships was strong, and the band was always busy.
The formation of the Mahotella Queens was a long process determined mostly by fate and partly by design. It started as a jam in the studios of Gallo Records in downtown Johannesburg after a freelance recording session. The studio band comprised excellent musicians lacking reputations. They came from different towns and villages to the big city. They were rubbing shoulders with legends like Kippie Moeketsi, Zakes Nkosi and Ntemi Piliso, all of whom were hired as session musicians to boost the factory belt type of pop Gallo was churning out at the time. They used to stay behind after the hectic recording sessions to play what they really wanted. They called themselves the Makgona Tsohle band (the “can-do” band).
This outfit was led by the late guitarist Marks Mankwane. The vocalists were of course Hilda Tloubatla, Nobesuthu Shawe Mbadu and Mildred Mangxola, who provided backing for established stars of the time.
One of the most powerful figures in the music business of that era was Rupert Bopape, a top producer every musician wanted to meet. His sharp ear picked up this new energetic sound being invented in the studios after recording sessions were over. He had been a scout for EMI before, and having joined the rival company, Gallo, needed something special to impress his new bosses.
Bopape brought a shy young man into the mix – Simon Nkabinde, nicknamed Mahlatini. They had met through Nkabinde’s elder brother, Zeph, a member of the 1950s hit band, Shukuma Black Mambazo. The arrival of Mahlatini completed what was to become a dream lineup, a band that went on to conquer the subcontinent, and later, the world.
The band made waves from their first recording, and soon promoters were beating a path to their door. Throughout the 1960s, this big happy family was like the very air we breathe. Life without Mahlatini and the Queens was unimaginable. The familiar and exciting vibes of evergreen hits, Thoko, Melodi and the very sound of Lilizela was enough to make you feel the soil under your feet.
The rot set in around the beginning of the 1970s. There was tension in the band, and an institution was under threat of extinction. Rumours of exploitation abounded and, while no one could entertain the idea of this great band disbanding, it finally did. Mahlatini joined Gallo competitor, EMI. Bopape retired and composer Shadrack Piliso died. The beautiful Mahotella Queens were ensconced in their homes, having been married after years on the road.
Gallo was determined to keep the band together. It recruited new “Queens” from their stable – the Mthunzini Girls and the Dima Sisters. They were to be known as Mahotella “B”, and they produced two albums, Marriage is a Problem and Izibani zo Mqashiyo. The public voted with its feet, staying away from gigs and not buying the product.
Tales were told of Mahlatini being seen down and out in the townships – drinking concoctions known to have wrecked many a life. Most people had already given up hope of ever seeing him on stage again. However, in June of 1976, just before the turbulence that changed the country’s history, the band made a comeback. The original Queens reunited with Mahlatini and the Makgona Tsohle band. They appeared at the now-defunct, blacks-only Rio Cinema in Johannesburg.
After a successful touring stint to remote parts of the country, the band again went into a temporary hiatus, only to be revived some years later by Harry Belafonte – the man largely responsible for introducing South African music to the world.
The band recorded with Belafonte at the height of PW Botha’s regime. Later they were invited to France – a tour without the Queens that spelled the return of Mahlatini. The French were seduced. The original Mahotella Queens were extricated from “making a home”, and a further tour of Europe followed, knocking the continent off its dancing feet.
In the Eighties the air was pregnant with resistance to the evil empire of apartheid. In London, the stage was being set for the biggest concert the world had ever seen, the Nelson Mandela Birthday Concert at Wembley in 1988. Mahlatini and the Mahotella Queens were there.
The concert was a prelude to a hectic world tour that included the SOB club in the Big Apple, Tokyo, Brisbane and Munich to name a few. On February 19 1993, they performed at the prestigious Womad festival, in Australia. In the same year, the Queens finally recorded their first album without Mahlatini. Called Women of the World, it came 29 years after the band had been formed and received rave reviews across the world.
The following year, in 1994, the band celebrated their 30th year together, a record by South African standards. Gallo put a shameful show together for the band, at a now-defunct shebeen in Rosebank. The nation hardly knew the event was taking place. Their 30th anniversary, however, coincided with the inauguration of President Nelson Mandela. And the Mahotella Queens were there to play for him. The band was formed in the same year Mandela was jailed – now both had survived apartheid!
This year, at the recent FNB South African Music Association Awards, the band was honoured by the industry with a Lifetime Achievement award. Fresh from a gig in Ethiopia, Mahlatini was already too ill to show up. He passed away on July 28, almost a year after the band’s founder, Marks Mankwane.
Mahlatini’s passing was met with much grief. Radio stations may have mentioned him, but the tributes were largely pathetic. Newspapers covered his death, and the national broadcaster ran an an old documentary, revealing great ignorance about this national institution.
The Lion of Soweto roars no more but his fabulous legacy lives on. As the multitudes in the townships used to yell: “Uyi ndoda Mahlatini” – You are the main man.