IT must have been late 2006 or early 2007. I received a phone call from Umdala, uNdumiso Gumede. My transport services were urgently needed. I was not surprised because that was a common call.
I ran a kombi outfit that was as visible as it was audible in Bulawayo. My cars were colourful and noisy, with magnetic paints and conquest radio systems that were not common at the time. And my drivers were troublesome playboys that had no problem pretending that they were me and that I was them.
I know a few of them that got marriage partners who believed that they were the owner of the outfit when they were trusted partners, friends and operatives of the brand. When Umdala uGumede called and stated the urgency of the call I quickly entertained the idea that my outfit was being considered to transport the Highlanders Football Club that he was intimately involved with, Gums was a living metaphor of Bosso.
It was fortunately or unfortunately not so. I was being invited to transport, up and about Bulawayo, an important artiste from South Africa. He had come to conduct auditions for a Mzilikazi movie project in collaboration with Amakhosi, the Cont Mhlanga led cultural and artistic outfit.
It soon became clear that my friend and brother Cont Mhlanga had asked Gumz to make the call. More clearly was that this was not a hire but a community service engagement. I quickly agreed to the call and offered to immediately drive to meet with Mdala Gumz who was at Rainbow Hotel.
When I got to the appointed place, I found him with no one other than Mbongeni Madlokovu Ngema.
Before I even finished the greeting rituals with Mdala Gumz, Ngema had stood up to offer the Inkabi hug, and handshake.
And he said it clearly, “Nkabi Yami!” I called him “Madlokovu,” his clan name which he profiled in many songs and other performances.
It was respect, love and fascination at the first sight. Madlokovu, a clear and poetic speaker, immediately looked at Mdala Gumz, shook his hand and said, “ungangishiya naye, mina naye sizozwana, njalo sizosebenza.” Mdala Gumz winked at me and immediately left.
The following week was a spectacular tour of all the armpits and orifices of the City of Bulawayo, including shebeens and shisa nyamas. This was over and above the daily drive to and from Amakhosi Cultural Centre for the auditions and meetings with Cont.
The first trip was to my house for introductions and greetings with my family that followed Ngema’s work religiously, they were fans. After careful negotiations with my brutal and vicious dog, we settled and sipped a strong drink. The drama came when my then wife arrived to greet him. She knelt down like a proper traditional wife that I was trying to produce her into.
Ngema responded with Isitimela saseZola lyrics, praising her beauty. She outshined the sun itself with her dimpled smile and tears of joy. It was not over yet.
We drove to my old home to tour the neighbourhood and see people, ekasi. I could not resist the temptation to visit my then illicit young friend who was also a fan of Ngema. She is now my honourable wife, she was a tall model type, light-skinned, with dimples deep enough to hold rainwater. She had the shape and size of a true temptress. At the sight of her, after the lengthy hugging that I became uncomfortable with, especially the tightness and length of it, Ngema took off his hat and said, “uneso” meaning “you have an eye for beautiful women,” which is a baptismal truth.
I frequently get terrified by the beauty of my daughters whose looks are directly borrowed from their mothers, stolen even.
I look like a tree and have no looks to lend my army of girls, except my eyes and alleged brains.
The Day Mbongeni Ngema Cried in Bulawayo
It was my job to take Ngema to and from work at Amakhosi. And at night to ship him around to the watering holes and other places of entertainment. Besides the “iso” that we shared, the eye for diamonds and damsels, we shared respect and love for the wise waters, especially the whiskey type. I invited my friend and brother, who ran another transport outfit and was a tough dude, tall and muscular with a reputation for dispensing thorough beatings.
He also had “iso” and immediately became good friends with Madlokovu. With my friends, we showed Madlokovu the heart and mind of Bulawayo, from Makhokhoba to Luveve, and Windermere to LA Gondola.
After one long day when I had driven Ngema, in the company of Mdala Gumz to Mzilikazi’s grave at Entumbane in Matobo we had to do something special. The trip was emotional and spiritual. Ngema was enchanted by the figure and the legend of
Mzilikazi. I still have a script of the musical movie that he intended to advance.
After that day I had to treat Ngema to something big and special, culturally. My friend and I took him to an Iyasa show. It was in a joint in Barham Green. Iyasa was led by my other friend and brother, a shy but immensely talented fellow, Nkululeko Innocent Dube.
On stage Iyasa, Inkululeko Yabasha, is a thriller. Future performed the character of Madlokovu coming back home in the early hours of the morning, being berated by the wife. The group throwed the Sarafina song up and the young boys and girls danced. Iyasa girls danced as if their hips were liquid and the boys captured the stage as if it owed them money.
Immanuel must really rest in Power. I owe Pride a visit in Tembisa. Sinethemba, Mancane and Nkwali, these people and other stars sang and danced all of us into ecstasy.
Iyasa could give birth to you afresh as a spectator with their spectacular stage performances. I remember the late Malayitsha Lance Ndebele and I fighting over one dancer and Bra Omega Sibanda had to use his name and weight to stop the fight that was about to become ugly. Lance and I were both Inkabi (hit men) of some capabilities, Bra Oms could not allow the boys to go dark and bloody. He organised a meeting and instructed us to stop the fight, forthwith, in the interest of progress and collective happiness.
After the show Innocent began the greeting to Madlokovu with the disclosure that his first-born son was named Mbongeni in respect and reverence of Ngema. After the greeting and hearty appreciations, Ngema pulled me to the parking lot and we spoke about Iyasa and Zulu/Ndebele culture. And Ngema wept.
He had big bold eyes and so his weeping was an event.
How a Cat Can Sleep on the Fireplace
When I got to South Africa I was under the cloud. It was early 2009. I was angry, bruised and depressed. One of the first things I did was to send Ngema a message to tell him I had arrived in Pretoria and meant to be around for a long time. I mentioned that I had found accommodation but was yet to pay for it, and the proverbial cat was sleeping on my fireplace. If you know what that means you really know. Ngema laughed out loud on the phone, and said “Usazoyibona iJozi.” Meaning you are yet to see Joburg, but I was in Pretoria. The following day I received a call from a lady from an organisation called Committed Artists, asking for my banking details.
Ngema sent me triple the amount I asked for. For a full year, before I got formally employed, Madlokovu, every month, would phone to say, “ayi, ngithe bakuthumele okokuxosha ikati lapho eziko lakho,” meaning that he had sent his staff to send me money to defend myself from the attacks of poverty and hunger. One day in 2010, I and my good uncle visited Ngema for lunch and drinks. I introduced my uncle as Undlangamandla, which fascinated Ngema beyond repair. Now and again he would say “Awumbize ngegama lakhe.”
Mbongeni Ngema recently died in a car accident, in Lusikisiki, Eastern Cape, in South Africa. Ah, Madlokovu, lala kahle khehla lami, sizobonana phambili Mkhulu !!
Cetshwayo Zindabazezwe Mabhena writes from Mabusabesala Village, Siyabuswa, in Mpumalanga Province, South Africa.
Contacts: decoloniality2019@gmail.com