Ubuntu: Suthukazi Arosi’s profound lament

One may state that Suthukazi Arosi’s debut solo album, Ubuntu, is a work of lament. This premise may easily be based on the opening four songs of the album: Wemnt’ omnyama Vuka Emaqandeni, Somandla, Amanyala and Abelungu Abamnyama among those that are conspicuously consistent with the opening sentiment. The first track, perhaps owing much to its up-tempo rhythm, bewails with vigour the many concerns of its subject matter with nuances of brotherly/sisterly advice towards the black nation.

The singer says: “… Sonke isizwe s’khala ngawe, khawuvuke emaqandeni bo… Amasiko mzi ontsundu, ubuntu wemnt’ omnyama. Wa phel’ umz’ontsundu; baphel’ abantu madoda…” This caution is against the fading sense of ubuntu within the black nation and the apparent fading of African traditions.

The second song, Somandla, perhaps in the same vein as its predecessor, is more like a prayer, but one with melancholic melody that departs from the verve of the opener. Here Suthukazi is pleading with the Almighty to help heal the black nation of its ills and frustrations, so that the boiling bad blood that exists between people may cease to be. The third offering, Amanyala, is a frighteningly gloomy piece of music. Its arrangement may suggest that the singer may have wanted to present the most pressing issues before many others subjects that are buried further on in the record; perhaps so that when the music unwinds further on, the more pressing matters would have been dealt with. Perhaps the melodies and the anecdotes that follow may help soothe the afflicted heart and allow the listener to go back to the earlier alarming messages with less trouble. That way the reflections on pertinent issues do not leave one’s consciousness.

Amanyala, the dreadful song, plays and one appreciates it even more because of its innovative arrangement – it doesn’t allow for the separation of the horrifying narrative from the music – the two elements are like a molded spear that pierces and pierces. This offering is also a song of lament as stated earlier, but one whose cry emanates from a domestic level – a male figure molesting the children of his home. The singer takes a position many narrators usually distance themselves from – she’s the protagonist who pleads in the first person thus:

“You want me to tolerate all your disgraceful and awful actions; I will tell father… you cannot carry on like that; I will tell father…children can no longer sleep at night because of you… even Ntombikayise is pregnant because of you… I will tell father.”

Suthukazi condemns the acts of a pedophiliac male figure in this song in isiXhosa. In fact, the whole record is sung in both isiXhosa and isiZulu. The backing vocals of the accompanying musicians add a soothing balm to this stark and frightening situation narrated in Amanyala, and their singing only make the interaction with the song even more painful. They sing behind Suthukazi’s afflicted voice almost helpless. And the way the immensely talented singer commands the lead is a shift from her conventional singing. Her vocals sound like she’s crying what may be a beautiful cry, if there is such a thing, which evokes an ambivalent reaction from the listener. Perhaps it’s the demands of this poignant song that elevates her, as the narrator, to that lamenting mode. But it’s a beautiful lament in its melodies and other artistic features.

As the music unfolds further Suthukazi opens up another platform for dialogue where African indigenous languages are concerned. The sad tone in both the melody and vocals changes – the tempo becomes accelerated again and the voices delivering these messages become more cheerful in spite of the pertinence of their subject matter in the song, Abelungu Abamnyama (black white people). The singer’s concern here is with the fact that black people no longer communicate in their mother tongue. A witty narrative unfolds as such:

“Ingane kamalume ithi a ikwazi ukukhuluma, ikhuluma isilungu kuphela, ngabe izalwa ngabelungu na... Ngithi ngiyabulisa ngithi sawubona, yathi what are you talking about. Ngithi ngiyabulisa ngithi sawubona, yathi don’t talk to me in this language…” (My uncle’s child says he cannot speak in his mother tongue and can only communicate in English. Is he of white descent? ... When I greet him in our language, he says: what are you talking about… When I greet him, he says don’t talk to me in this language.)

What may be a very pleasant and possibly anecdotal piece is, Abafazi Belali. It’s a narrative on the gossip episode that some members of one area experience and deal with. The singer assumes a position of the person aggrieved by the gossip mongers. She asks, thorough singing in isiXhosa of course:

“Hey women of this village, hey women of this village; where did you come across such a huge lie? ….” and the backing vocalists respond, having assumed the role of the accused by saying: “We heard it from you!”

The instrumentation is lively with engaging guitar rifts strummed along some intermittent presence of the melodic keys.

There’s a song called Vumani, which reminds one of other local artists’ articulations of their concerns over the world of the ancestors, which they reckon, still need to be afforded its rightful place in the new way of life.

Suthukazi is undoubtedly one of Africa’s most powerful female voices. Her strong vocal talent has seen her release two solo albums to date. Her 1997 Kora award marked a significant historic event in that she was reported to be the first South Africa female artist to win such an award. She also won other awards including the SAMA, even though her music does not feature much in the mass communication media, chiefly radio and television.

Suthukazi possess similar vocal talent as the late Busi Mhlongo who was sadly under-celebrated. When one looks at these two great musicians, the question of under-celebration or non-recognition of South African artists leads one to the following thought: ‘Why is it that traditional and jazz musicians  not recognized befittingly in their country while they are still alive? One person may point out that raising this question may be akin to blowing one’s voice into a wide vacant space where what comes back are only reproduced echoes. Even this question is not direct enough because it is not aimed at anyone in particular.’ More thoughts which formulate questions emerge: ‘Who needs to celebrate these artists? Who needs to recognize them as icons of their land like other countries recognize their greats? Through which means does this recognition need to be done? Is it buying local music? Or is it through awards, or maybe it’s increased airplay?'

I’m sure when these questions fall like this, many musicians would wish to add their concernes to this significant issue. And sadly some of them are no more, but their spirit lives on in the hearts and minds of those who appreciated their art forms

Going back to Ubuntu, Suthukazi’s profound offering, one feels the need to acknowledge Andile Yenana, Herbie Tsoalie, Basie Mahlasela and Chicco Twala for their respective compositions of these great songs – Suthukazi’s too. The featured musicians deserve an acknowledgement too. Here one refers to Louis Mhlanga, Nhlanhla Magagula and Bheki Khoza among other talents.

And with this return to the essence of music, the album title arrests one’s consciousness and draws it back to the reality of our lives: Ubuntu, just how far removed are we from this concept birthed by the teaching of our African elders. The word “Ubuntu”, seems to have just become one of those words that get used at convenient times, when leverages or allegiances of some form are  needed. African communities have somewhat departed from this ideology. Some sections of neighbourhoods seem to bear evidence of detachment from this long-standing teaching. Families have become withdrawn and have become individualistic. Perhaps the demands of our today and the threats that arise force these changes. Thus it is highly admirable that people such as Suthukazi sing about these evaluative issues. And from an artistic point of view, this album is as powerful as the narratives that are embedded in it.

Deon-Simphiwe Skade

Note: Ubuntu was released in 2001 and may still be available in some music stores.