Writer: Siphelele Ngidi | Photographs: Supplied
In African indigenous communities, an imbizo is a traditional gathering convened by a chief, headman, or other community leader to deliberate on matters of common concern and development. It provides ordinary members of the community a space to express their views through dialogue, storytelling, ritual, and performance, while leaders listen and respond. Over time, the imbizo evolved into a method of governance, communication, and accountability—a forum where leadership and community engage in a shared search for solutions.
In many ways, Bab’ Phuzekhemisi’s Maskandi serves as a contemporary imbizo. His songs become platforms for political advocacy, social commentary, and community dialogue. They amplify the voices of ordinary people, critique social and political structures, and demonstrate how cultural expression can function as an instrument of public discourse. In this sense, Imbizo in Song captures the intersection of tradition, music, and politics, showing how Maskandi operates as both a mirror and a megaphone for societal concerns.
Bab’ Phuzekhemisi, whose real name is Zibokwakhe Mnyandu, has enjoyed a music career spanning several decades. Emerging during a turbulent political era, his songs became synonymous with sharp critique and fearless commentary, earning him a reputation as one of Maskandi’s most outspoken voices. His lyrics, often unflinching in their confrontation of corruption, inequality, and betrayal, positioned him not only as a cultural icon but also as a political commentator whose stage was the everyday struggles of ordinary South Africans.
This article reflects on some of the recurring themes in his music across the decades, tracing how they continue to resonate within South Africa’s social and political landscape.
Phansi Imkhonto – Black Unity
During the 1980s and 1990s, South Africa’s townships and rural areas were engulfed in waves of political conflict and internecine violence, often framed in public discourse as black-on-black violence. This period of turmoil threatened to fracture the very solidarity on which the liberation struggle depended. Subsequent revelations, however, exposed that much of this conflict was not organic but rather the product of third-party interference—including state security structures and covert operations designed to sow division within Black communities. This black-on-black violence was more prominent in KwaZulu-Natal, where clashes between Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP) supporters and African National Congress (ANC) aligned structures left deep scars on communities. The province became the epicentre of political killings, forced displacements, and intimidation, leaving ordinary residents trapped in cycles of fear and uncertainty.
Zulu:
“Salwa sodwa kanjeni we MaAfrika?
Yini inkinga MaAfrika?
Ngiyabuza weMaAfrika
Niyakhumbula ukuthi abelungu basishaya le eSandlwana
Sindawonye, kwakungekho lezi zinhlangano” – Ngo 49 (1996)
English:
“Why are we fighting each other, African people?
What is the problem, African people?
I ask you, African people,
Do you remember how white people attacked us at Isandlwana?
Back then, there were no political parties—we stood together as one.”
Link of song: https://youtu.be/xpd40RudR94?si=Oi3W1Pec0H5zr2DL
In this climate, Bab’ Phuzekhemisi joined numerous other artists in utilising Maskandi music as a platform for social and political commentary. Through his lyrics, he reminded communities of shared histories and common struggles, urging unity against forces that sought to divide them. In his song “Ngo 49”, he highlighted that irrespective of the political t-shirt one wears, the oppressor sees all Black South Africans as a single people to be controlled. By invoking shared historical experiences—such as the Battle of Isandlwana—Phuzekhemisi reminded listeners that division among communities only benefits those in power. His critique of the political class in causing disunity within the Black community is captured in his 1994 song Emapalamende:
Zulu:
“Nixabana emaPhalamende kujike kufe thina
Nixabana emaPotoli bese kujika kufe isizwe
Yini enenza ukuthi singezwani emhlabeni” _Emapalamende (1994)
English:
“You [politicians] quarrel in Parliament, and we die.
You quarrel in Pretoria, and the nation dies.
You are the ones who result in us not getting along in this world?”
Link of song: https://youtu.be/43t2sszuhm4?si=_d78rAzasIPSn0ct
In this song, he points out the recklessness of political leaders whose disputes in elite spaces fuel violence on the ground. By linking parliamentary quarrels to the bloodshed in townships, Phuzekhemisi exposes how the struggles of ordinary people were sacrificed at the altar of political rivalry. His critique serves as both an indictment of leadership and a plea for accountability, insisting that the cost of division is borne not by politicians but by the very communities they claim to represent.
In 1998, the title track of his album Phansi Imikhonto (meaning “Disarm” or “Put Down the Weapons”) reinforced the message of black unity. The song urged listeners to lay down violence and resolve conflicts peacefully, advocating for reconciliation and collective unity.
Zulu:
“Thina bendlu emnyama
Imkhonto phansi, Izibhamu phansi
Asihlonipheni iSilo
Asakheni lelizwe” – Phansi Imikhonto (1998)
English:
“We, the people of the black nation,
Put down the spears, put down the guns.
Let us respect the King,
Let us build this nation together.”
Link to song: https://youtu.be/rH9Iz-v-o90?si=qIT4qsC-t631kMCo
Izwe Alithuthuki – Lack of Economic Progress Post Apartheid
The dawn of democracy in 1994 brought with it high expectations and promises of social and economic transformation. For Black Africans who had been historically marginalized under apartheid, there was hope for access to quality education, meaningful employment, land, and improved living conditions. However, for many, these promises remained unfulfilled as the implementation of human development programs lagged, and neo-liberal policies often seemed to widen inequality instead of addressing it. In his 1997 track “Izwe alithuthuki”, Bab’Phuzekhemisi directly critiques the uneven progress
Zulu:
“Ngicela ukunibuza webantu baseAfrika
Kuleli lizwe loBaba kusaphethe abelungu? ngiyabuza
Ngoba kubantu izwe alithuthuki kodwa kubelungu lithuthuka zinsuku zonke”_Izwe alithuthuki (1997)
English:
“I would like to ask you, people of Africa,
Is this land of our fathers still governed by white people? I ask,
Because for Black African people, the country is not developing, but for the white people, it develops every day.”
Link of song: https://youtu.be/jMng_qtPQes?si=nnuX_FdhMEVUK16P
Through this song, Phuzekhemisi highlights the continued economic marginalization of Black South Africans in the post-apartheid era. While political freedom had been achieved, material conditions for the majority remained constrained, reflecting the gap between democratic promises and lived realities
“Musani ukudlala ngathi Savota thina” -Voting: Power or Illusion?
For many South Africans, the ballot was a symbol of hard-won rights and the hope of shaping a better future. Citizens, particularly the previously disadvantaged, anticipated that voting would translate into tangible improvements in their living conditions, access to services, and opportunities for social and economic advancement. In his 1995 track “Savota”, Bab’ Phuzekhemisi captures the frustrations of ordinary South Africans when these expectations went unmet.
Zulu:
“Mina ngisafuna ukuya ePitoli ngiyoyibuza mina lendaba
Ukuthi ngingahlala emkhukhwini ngavota
Musani ukudlala ngathi, Savota thini
Ngihleli angisebenze ngavota
Musani ukudlala ngathi, Savota thini” – Savota (1995)
English:
“I still want to go to Pretoria to ask about this matter,
How could I live in an informal settlement (shack) even though I voted?
Don’t play with us, we voted
I am sitting here, unemployed, even though I voted.
Don’t play with us, we voted”
Link to song: https://youtu.be/pbgqE3coOyo?si=FG1_UGAWjzUzerjI
Through these lyrics, Phuzekhemisi critiques the gap between political participation and real economic change. While citizens exercised their democratic rights, many continued to experience unemployment, poverty, and lack of access to basic services. He furthers this sentiment in his song “Amakhansela”
Zulu:
“OHhulumeni bendawo ngeke siphinde siba votele
Intuthuko inzima” – Amakhansela (2002)
English:
“We will never vote for local governments again; they are failing to deliver development.”
Link to song: https://youtu.be/LniOo9fAaxk?si=dlHz_z60GIaVH9CK
This song sparked controversy, as it was rejected by Ukhozi FM due to its direct critique of local authorities and its potential to stir political tension. However, Phuzekhemisi was not advocating for people to abandon the ballot. Rather, he sought to encourage citizens to treat voting as a form of punishment for underperforming leaders—a tool to hold those in power accountable when they failed to deliver on promises.
He further emphasised in his music the importance of participating in elections to effect change, warning that failing to exercise this constitutional right could allow the wrong people to govern.
Zulu:
“Wozani sovota maAfrika
Sizongena enkingeni” – Asambe Sovota (1998)
English:
“Come, let’s vote, people of Africa,
Or we will enter into trouble.”
Link to Song: https://youtu.be/6lXKQXNG6CY?si=ahjINgBYDfcz6WaO
This dual message reflects Maskandi’s role as both a critique and a call to action—highlighting the frustrations of unmet expectations while reminding citizens that participation remains essential for shaping the nation.
In closing
My choice of mostly songs from the 1990s is intentional, as it highlights how the themes Phuzekhemisi addressed decades ago—political disunity, unfulfilled promises of democracy, and the gap between rights and lived realities—remain relevant in contemporary South Africa. His fearless political commentary often challenged those in power, and as a result, much of his music was barred from major radio stations. This censorship may also have contributed to his marginalisation and being overlooked in government events and honours
Phuzekhemisi’s music has not only reflected his observations but has also served as a powerful commentary on the lived experiences of ordinary South Africans. Through his Maskandi songs, he reminds us that the rhythm of our music can echo the heartbeat of our nation—calling for unity, justice, and a democracy that delivers for all. It is hoped that a university will soon recognise his contributions with an honorary doctorate.
(Siphelele Ngidi is a labour and health economist who explores the intersections of social policy, economic development, labour markets, inequality, and community well-being.)
