What Mandoza meant to us
Thalefang Charles | Friday September 23, 2016 16:55
The Chinese had just arrived and it was before Senyaka and Kamazu ‘Chinesed’ their cheap products with that hit song Fong-Kong. We bought green bootleg cassettes and occasional CDs from those Chinese shops.
The year, 1999 was a glorious one. We were serving the nation during Tirelo Sechaba and rewarded with a monthly allowance of P420 – we colloquially called it ‘Codesa’. The year that one of our mates, Mpule Kwelagobe was crowned Miss Universe.
This was just before Botswana found its sound. It was just before Nata & Capricorn led a local flavour of kwasa-kwasa that took the country by storm and prior to Eric Ramco’s redefinition of ‘traditional music’. It was after Brenda Fassie made a bold comeback with one of her greatest albums called Memeza that featured Vulindela.
Vulindela became an anthem. The song tore through Africa, and was played everywhere.
Although Brenda crossed over through all the music lovers the hot sound back then was a Kwaito from South African townships.
It was the time when ego wars between Kwaito’s greatest stables, the illustrious Kalawa Jazzmee and the ever-prolific 999 Records were at their fiercest.
It was a rather tense period because music beefs had just killed both of the most influential rappers who ever lived, from the US’s West and East Coast, Tupac Shakur and Biggy Smalls respectively. It was a bad time for rap, but Kwaito was flourishing.
The days of Trompies – Mapantsola a di G-String singing about their love for thick women in that smash hit Fohloza. I used to wear that silk orange and white shirt from the Fohloza video and we were not called Manyora back then. It was the days when ‘Mapantsola’ were changing from the Sophiatown’s old timers outfit of Crocket Jones and Dupas to All Star and Dikkies. Alaska was singing Accuse (I too owned that Not-Guilty bright orange overall), BOP asking, Okae Molao? Our very own Daddy Skizo, brought us Tshasa, Thebe was banging his cheeky beats advising everyone to focus on their issues in Ndaba Zakho. There was Mdu Chomi Ya Bana, after he left Mashampalani to go solo, who gave us the Y2K. Arthur actually made us dance to a song called Kaffir, TKZee told off the haters in Fella Kae.
It was the year Botswana’s radio airwaves were radically changed when the first private radio stations went on air. It was on Yarona FM, through my small portable radio I bought with ‘Codesa’ allowance that I first heard Mandoza’s first single from his first solo album after he left Chiskop. It was on Robbie Rob’s breakfast show and he played Uzo Ithola Kanjani Ule Khoneni from Mandoza’s 925 Zola South album. It was a good Kwaito song with a great message that even applies today, but not really a big hit. Madoza was 21-years-old and fresh out of jail.
The following year after we all survived the scares of Y2K, Mandoza delivered what turned out to be one of the greatest Kwaito songs ever made. Nkalakatha was an instant hit. The last time a song got to that level was in 1998 with Brenda’s Vulindela.
Nkalakatha, produced by Gabi Le Roux, took Mandoza and us to where we never imagined.
Even though Mandoza adopted the image of rock legends with his black leather jackets and tight-fitting pants, kwaito fans who were used to the sound and image of pantsola groups such as Trompies, Alaska, Chiskop, TKZee and many others flocked to Nkalakatha. The song crossed over to new audiences. White radio stations in South Africa banged that hit.
Nkalakatha album won the Best Kwaito Music Album category and the album’s title track, Nkalakatha won the Song of The Year category at the South African Music Awards in 2001. Mandoza also won in five of the 10 categories at the 2001 Metro Music Awards: Best Kwaito Artist, Best Male Vocalist, Best Album, Best Styled Artist and Song Of The Year. He went on to win the Best Artist - Southern Africa category at the Kora All Africa Music Awards 2001.
The new Kwaito king was crowned. But wearing the Kwaito crown was not easy. He tried in vain to remain king with later hits such as his collaboration with MDU titled 50-50. Later on I stopped listening when his songs sounded like a tired rendition of Nkalakatha, songs like Godoba, S’gelekeqe and Phunyuka Bamphethe. He later served much of his white market and battled to satisfy ‘Mapantsola a kasi’ – he never really beat Nkalakatha.
So Mandoza’s passing last Sunday on September 18, left me nostalgic and reminded me of the great years when we were coming of age. It also proved to me that the music that I heard from my teens actually means more to me than music I am listening to now. There is a whole study on ‘Why do we love the music we heard as teenagers?’
And that is what Mandoza meant to me. He died young, but he would never be forgotten because his music left us with deep memories that we would forever cherish.
RIP Nkalakatha.