It’s bigger than Riddims and Rap.
Rest in Peace to Madzibaba Nicholas “Senior Lecturer” Zakaria, who passed away last week at the age of 69.
Or perhaps it’s not bigger than Riddims and Rap. Perhaps it —the passing of one of the most iconic elder statesmen of Zimbabwe’s most beloved genre— is indeed riddims and rap.
How though? Sungura has, historically anyway, been almost the antithesis of (at the very least ) 21st century urban Zimbabwean music. The sounds, the language, the aesthetics, the spaces: couldn’t be further, one from the other.
Thank you for taking the chicken out of the freezer this afternoon; now let me cook.
I have written before about how ZimDancehall was in an interesting place circa 2017. ZimDancehall 1.0 (The Winkys and Shaddys through to Freeman, and Killer Ts) were now either established genre stalwarts or fallen back, having put the sound on the main street thus far. Urban Zim kept watch, wondering what was next. I have also argued (ironically, in the only other piece that currently exists in the #MomentinSong series) that ZimDancehall 2.0 begins with the advent of Enzo, Bazooker and them (Panoma*a Munhu riddim era.) In that interim was a season I termed 1.5: it was definitely not what Winky, Freeman and the Mbare boys had established earlier; but it also wasn’t the Zimbo-politan style that Enzo and them would become synonymous with. This was the Boom Betto, underground Master H, Jah Signal era.
Nobody from that era shone brighter than Jah Signal though.
Sigi had come to my attention a few years earlier, having dropped songs like the church hymn-inspired “Sigi Ayenda,” and “Mukwasha Mboko.” Was this Dancehall? Barely. At the time, in which riddim culture and clashes were all the rage, it mostly certainly was not. (Incidentally, these two songs would go on to represent the artist’s style more than his bonafide ZimDancehall hits: church hymn adaptation included— but we’ll get to that.) But if it wasn’t Dancehall, what was it? After all, he does come bearing the Jah Moniker, but unlike the prayzah variety, he also shares a surname with Busy; surely he is from the Dance!? At the time, I would have characterized him with the myriad of Urban Zimbabwean music, often with obscure electronic instrumentation and videos that have somehow aged quicker and worse than those from the late 90s and early 2000s, that was in a rat race to replace the Urban Grooves moment of yesteryear.
It was…intriguing. A chuckle here, a headnod there. But as ZimDancehall took its place in the forefront of young urban Zimbabwe, and the likes of Jah Prayzah, Sulu Chimbetu, and Pah Chihera revived an alternative millennial lane for the more conservative, traditional sounds. And while many Urban Groovers (Trevor Dongo, Stunner etc) endeavored to reinvent or maintain standing in the post-2010 space, many of the others sounds just…went away.In the intervening years, ZimDancehall 1.0 takes shape: Winky D gets GOATed. Killer T drops the greatest album in genre history (and beyond?) Soul Jah Love and Seh Calaz have an infamous dance at City Sports. And Jah Signal? He’s…out there somewhere.
I promise you, this is about a song. I promise you our heads are bowed in sorrow over the passing of Madzibaba.
Then the Stage Medley dropped. I know, I know: back-to-back articles in the series (the first two, no less!) making specific reference to this riddim and moment makes it sound like it’s my favorite thing. It is not; but that’s not important right now; listen. While Jah Signal’s contribution thereto was not necessarily a standout—that honor belonged to the aforementioned Boom Betto and Blot—he was pretty good. Plus he also had a name that, while not household by any means-was the most recognizable of his cohorts on the medley.
Then 2018 happened.
First, “Mubako” dropped. In an early instance of discovering a song via an influencer, it was DJ Everjoy’s FB broadcast in which she lip-synced/performed the song: the dramatics drew me in right away. The buzz was getting stratospheric. The song was, however, a quintessential street type anthem akin to Dobba Don’s Mudendere: solid enough; but superstars are made in the follow-up, not the hit.
Indeed, the follow-up would catapult Sigi into another level of prominence. When Sweetie (Shinga Muroora) dropped, especially the video, there was no putting the Genie back into the bottle, Jah Signal was a star. The song, a mischievous interpolation of Charles Charamba’s gospel hit “Kana Vanhu Vangu” took off. On one hand, the mischief and visual thematics were reminiscent of works like “Mukwasha Mboko”; the repurposing of old popular songs was in keeping with his “Sigi Ayenda” days. But because he had also cut his teeth on riddim medleys and “Mubako”, he was also very much accepted as a ZimDancehall star.
What next? Now that you are here; now that the stardom for which you have long pined stands before you; where do you go?
Album.
While obviously not mandatory in this day and age (See Soul Jah Love; Enzo,) the album remains an important defining point in many a musician’s path—especially those who posit themselves as being particularly musical.
Thus, in October 2018. Jah Signal dropped his debut album, Jaya. Would he lean into the ZimDancehall space in which he had long aspired to be respected, or the playful nostalgia-baiting that had sent him viral. He figured it out. Well, let me take that back. On track #1, he figured it out.
Unovashungurudza!
“Sigi weee, uchatosvika kure!”Thus begins the opening track of the album. Except that is not Sigi himself making that declaration; it’s not even a producer with whom he’s been grinding. It’s the senior lecturer himself, Madzibaba Nicholas Zakaria.
That’s right. Young Jah Signal was opening his debut album with a feature from one of the most important voices in Zimbabwean music history
As the generations pile on top of each other, it is less and less surprising to see these inter-genre, intergenerational crossovers. There was a time when they were only marginally less rare than international collaborations. Sure, there were covers and renditions of folk songs and hymns, as well as classic recorded joints (Furuwa, Ruva Rangu etc.) But collaborations? A Somandla Ndebele/Tongai Moyo collabo? Sure; they’re peers within the genre. David Chifunyise, Sniper, and Plaxedes? Sure, we can argue for three genres there, but they were still peers and all fell within the larger Urban Grooves movement (and dare I say, RnB, Dancehall, and Hip-hop have always had a symbiotic relationship that makes those collabs seem intuitive.) But one of these young urban guys with a bonafide Sungura or Jiti or Chimurenga veteran? Why would you even suggest such madness?
Then they started to trickle in.
In 2005, Leonard Mapumo dropped the album NaMapfumo, which featured a sample of Leonard Zhakata’s “Chiuyaka.” Fire song, but it’s a sample; Zhakata didn’t get in the booth for this. But it’s…happening. The intergenerational divide is waning. A couple years later, in perhaps the most iconic moment germane to this, ExQ would bring the GOAT immortal on “Pane Rudo.” Not a sample; an original composition with the both of them singing on it. To his ever magnanimous credit, Tuku would go on to do this a few more times: famously with Winky D on “Panorwadza Moyo” and with Gary Tight on “Ndizarurire” in 2017. Thus, by the second half of the 2010s, intergenre, intergenerational collabos were still special, but not unheard of: Killer T and Fungisai; ExQ and Tanga wekwa Sando; Freeman and Alick Macheso.
So if the avalanche of inter-genre, intergenerational collaborations was afoot already, and this was neither the first nor the last, nor even the most high profile example of such, why would the 2018 release of “Unovashungurudza” cement Jah Signal as the man of the moment, and represent a significant notch in the belt of the Senior Lecturer? I would argue, in many ways, that it is precisely because of the “outsider” nature of its incarnation. While Madzibaba is every bit their generational peer (and, in the case of Macheso, bonafide mentor), Tuku and Macheso were both still box office at the time of these collaborations. Now, don’t get me wrong; the implication here is not that the only reason the urban artists would have wanted to collaborate with the traditional ones would be to feed off their name—just that it would make sense if that was so. On the other hand, Winky D, Freeman, Killer T, and even ExQ are all either easily or in the conversation about being on their genre’s Mount Rushmore: Sigi, not so much. Now, don’t get me wrong; the implication here is not that the only reason a seasoned artist would reach back to collaborate with an urban artist would be to rekindle some contemporary relevance—just that it would make sense if that was so.
In more colloquial parlance, there wasn’t much clout to be squeezed out by either party here. And that made it…normal. This was something that now happened in our larger musical landscape. An added layer to the romance here: “Unovashungurudza” interpolates a classic Zakaria song, “Mazano,” in classic Sigi fashion. Yet, unlike with the Charamba-based tunes for example, in which the latter wasn’t actually on the song so we can’t entirely be sure about how they felt about it all (see subsequent lawsuit); in this case, there was more than endorsement: Madzibaba’s hit was being reimagined, and he was along for the ride.
Oh, and make no mistake of it, the senior lecturer was known for this sort of thing. Famously, through his band Khiama Boys, Zakaria introduced the world to certified superstars System Tazvida and Alick Macheso—the latter going on to become Sungura’s shoe-in for GOAT. At Zakaria’s funeral, ZIMURA Vice chair and Sungura star in his own right, First Farai, spoke about how he received his first drum kit and amplifier from Madzibaba, and how he had been central in the early days of the musicians’ union. In more recent times, one of my favorite offerings from him was a collaboration he did with understated afropop start, Damascus the Afroguy, called “Negative Energy.”
Oh, and of course, ushering Jah Signal into his brief, but brilliant, superstar era. And star he did. He was in Dallas dressed like a cowboy. He was stealing the show at the Simon Chimbetu memorial. He had to come out and make public statements denying dating his fans. High-profile intellectual property theft case—you know, superstardom.
As for Madzibaba: his place in the parthenon of Zimbabwean music and society cemented. His contributions to the Sungura genre are incontrovertible. In this reflection, I have endeavored to show his relevance to the urban music space as well. So for once, Mr. Editor, allow me to turn Riddims and Rap into Riddims, Strings, and Rap.
RIP to the Senior Lecturer.
And that was your moment in song.
