Everyone knows that kwaito music represents a popular township sound but, over the past few years, kwaito appears to have become a preserve of one township. Zola, widely regarded as the toughest neighbourhood in Soweto, has produced almost all of the current superstars of this genre.
Music critics have started to wonder about the nexus between the rough background of the musicians and the fresh dance rythmn coming out of that township. These musicians include Mandoza, Zola, Brown Dash, Mapaputsi and M’du.
There is a legend that if you were to run into a house in Zola hoping for protection from criminals, you are likely to be given a panga to go outside and fight back. It might sound preposterous but a friend confirms that, on his virgin visit, his first sight was of a man sharpening his panga on a tar road. That’s the general view of Zola — where only the streetwise survive.
But over the past 10 years, Zola has inexplicably produced South Africa’s top kwaito artists. It is inexplicable because the township has no recreational facilities and its role models over the years have been of the criminal type.
But think of Mandoza, the hard-hitting, gravelly voiced artist whose cross-appeal to whites belies his hijacker past. And Zola, the fast talking singer-turned-TV presenter. Then there’s Mapaputsi, who I once saw smoking zol just before a performance in Newtown. The latest sensation from the group is Brown Dash, who won song of the year at the South African Music Awards for his hit song Phansi Komthunzi Welanga.
Although relatively young, the grandmaster of this generation is M’du (Mduduzi Masilela), credited as one of the founders of the kwaito genre. He was leader and founder member of Mashamplani and now goes by the title of The Godfather. His albums go platinum — selling more than 50 000 copies — almost every time. Although now something of a gentle giant with a stable family situation, M’du has also admitted to his naughty past in the township.
On the surface Zola is no different from any other township. The same four-roomed houses built by the apartheid government, the same idle youths hanging on street corners and the poverty is no more pronounced than anywhere else.
But, says Brown Dash, it is the small things like the lingo, Zola’s rengas or scamto (township slang for language) that sets them apart. It is a safe weapon and, even in jail, once you are recognised as being from Mzambia (Zola), you are protected from abuse and elevated to ‘a higher classâ€, known as Japan in prisons.
Another legend is that when young men are about to leave their homes in Zola, their mothers remind them not to forget their guns. Brown Dash confirms that, where he grew up, you either had to carry a gun or a goni (knife) to show your manhood. ‘You had to be a roughneck. People must know that you are from Zola and therefore that you are cleva [streetwise]. †But he says it is all changing now, with M’du having inspired him and many other youths from the township.
Long-time Zola artist Nathi ‘Nataraja†Xaba says music is an inevitable part of a black experience anywhere. ‘In our society, when a baby cries, the mother sings for her; if we want to protest on the streets, we sing,†he says. But he adds that the lack of facilities in Zola has killed a lot of talent. He says there were many boys that he trained in music, dance and drama who then left to go and commit burglary in Jo’burg suburbs, ending up in jail.
Youngster Mncedisi, known as Mr Bull, says artists from Zola are succeeding because they are ‘die-hardsâ€. ‘If they want something, they fight for it. Sikhule ka nzima [we grew up the hard, hard way].â€
His friend Vuyisile, known as Mavinci, thinks it is important that those who are successful stick around the township and stop leaving for the suburbs. ‘Otherwise the only role models we are left with are the clevas who get drunk, spin cars and flaunt their ill-gotten gains,†he says, shaking his head.
When I met Vuyisile and Mncedisi, they were sitting on a street corner with their friends. They range in age from 18 to 25 and just wait there and sometimes ask passers-by for money to buy food and alcohol. They also complain about the lack of entertainment facilities, including a library.
One of them pointed to a scar on his neck, saying he was involved in crime until a friend shot him. ‘This thing of proving your credentials by shooting people is no longer for me. I will rather remain a bari [lacking in street cred].â€
Zola has become a fountain of inspiration due to all its big names. ‘I stay in Randburg but I go to the township to find out what’s happening, what has changed. It helps my creativity,†says Brown Dash.