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British Forum for Ethnomusicology
Playing in the Land of God: Musical Performance and Social Resistance in South Africa
Author(s): Jaco Kruger
Source: British Journal of Ethnomusicology, Vol. 10, No. 2 (2001), pp. 1-36
Published by: British Forum for Ethnomusicology
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JACO KRUGER
Playing
in the land of God: musical
performance
and social resistance in
South Africa
This
essay
treats the
performances of
Venda musician Solomon Mathase as a
form of
resistance to
corruption
and
poverty
at the end
of
the colonial
period.
In his music resistance is
religiously legitimated through
his
concept of
"God's land", a moral
philosophy
that
promotes supportive
co-existence.
The tenets
of
this
philosophy
are
powerfully
articulated in communal
perfor-
mance
through
Mathase's
manipulation of
interactive musical
techniques,
which
place
him in a
position of emotionally regenerating
ritual
power,
while
inducing
states
of
intense shared consciousness
among
the
participants
in
his
performances. Performance
thus
shapes group identity,
while
allowing
musicians to
express
their
thoughts
on their
poverty
and subaltern status
and to
speculate
on creative solutions to their
problems. Accordingly,
music-
making functions
as more than mere
reflective symbolic
action in that it
provides
an
ideological foundation for
socio-economic
change.
One of the most
burning contemporary
national issues in South Africa is the
urgent
need for
pervasive
economic
development.
In an era marked
by
severe
infrastructural
deficiency
in
many
rural and urban areas, a
rising
cost of
living
and
high unemployment,
it is not
surprising
that
public funding
of the arts
should decrease, resulting
in the demise of several
public
arts institutions.1
For some, merely reducing public support
for the arts in favour of material
development
seems to be insufficient. When the South African oil
company
Sasol
recently
announced that it would
sponsor
Pro Musica, a
Johannesburg
symphony orchestra, an irate member of the
public
wrote an emotional letter
I
Thus the demise of the National
Symphony Orchestra, the National Chamber Orchestra
and the State Theatre has been marked
by
bitter recriminations
against
what is
regarded
as
the cultural
myopia
of the South African
government. Similarly,
a
Johannesburg municipal
art curator noted
recently
that the visual arts are no
longer
on the
agenda
of local
govern-
ment and that the
city may
thus become a
"ghost
town" devoid of museums and art
galleries
(Beeld 4, November
2000).
BRITISH JOURNAL OF ETHNOMUSICOLOGY VOL. 10/ii 2001 pp. 1-36
2 BRITISH JOURNAL OF ETHNOMUSICOLOGY VOL.10/ii 2001
to a local
newspaper, condemning
the
funding
of "luxuries" like
music-making
in a time of
crippling
oil
prices.2
The
popular perception
of music as
non-pragmatic
"art" which is valued as
mere entertainment, or at best as
having
some
vague relationship
with the
emotions, overlooks its
complex,
often covert, ritual articulation and mediation
of structural and
conceptual
contradictions
(Coplan 1987, Scott
1993).
Studies
of
contemporary
South African musical cultures
increasingly
address the inter-
penetration
of
empirical
constraints and material demands with autonomous
cultural values and
cognitive systems. They
reveal the
expression
of cultural
consciousness and the
reworking
of
changes
in
productive relationships
in
historically
salient musical
categories (Comaroff
and Comaroff 1987:205,
Coplan 1987:430). Many
African
performance genres
in South Africa thus
manifest material and
symbolic
resistance to the
legacy
of colonialism and
forms of
post-colonial global hegemony.
David
Coplan,
for
example,
has shown how marabi
performance
culture
not
only
articulates an
emergent
urban social
identity
but also functions as a
hub of
working-class
economic
activity (Coplan 1980, 1985). Particularly
germane
here is his inclusion of another musical
style,
Sotho
lifela songs,
in a
category
of
spoken
art known as
lipapali
or
"games".
These
"games"
stand
in a
contrasting relationship
to all forms of social conflict
by
virtue of their
"cohesive, continuative actions that
help
'construct'
society" (Coplan 1987b:31,
see Adams
1974). Lifela songs
address the
contradictory experiences
of
migrants
as
they
oscillate between their homes in Lesotho and the South
African mines where
they
work. Like
migrants
from other
parts
of South Africa,
they
often
perceive working
life as antithetical to home life. This
opposition
is
represented by
the Tswana
tropes go
dira and bereka. Go dira
signifies
inter-
personal creativity,
or "the work of social life", through
which the material
and
symbolic
world is fabricated
(Comaroff
and Comaroff
1987).
In contrast,
bereka is
alienating, exploitative
labour associated with colonial domination,
which has "use
only
for
your body".
This form of labour is familiar to
many
generations
of African
people,
and its Tshivenda form
(mberego)
has been
immortalized
by
the well-known
guitarist
Albert Mundalamo
(c. 1938-90)
in
his
song "Mapani":3
Mberego, mberego ya Mapani,
wee. Alas, work, work of
Mopani.
Ndo
vhuya nga milenzhe, wee. Alas, I returned on foot.
Ndi kundwa na tshienda tsha milenzhe. I do not even have shoes.
Ndi shona na u dzhena na
hayani.
I am too ashamed to come home.
0
vhuya magaweni nga
vhakalaha. The old men's overalls have
returned.
Mberego, mberego ya Mapani. Work,
work of
Mopani.
Mapani
refers to white-owned farms in the
Limpopo valley,
which have enticed
migrant
farm labourers from the Northern Province since the
early
twentieth
2
Beeld, October 2000.
3
Song
extract. Recorded at
Thohoyandou,
5 June 1987.
KRUGER Playing
in the land of God: musical performance and social resistance in South Africa
century.
The
song
laments Mundalamo's
working
life on a
vegetable
farm dur-
ing
the late 1950s. His
duty
was to water the
vegetables daily,
even
during
the
festive season
("No Christmas, no New
Year").
For this he received a
monthly
payment
of two
pounds.
His disembodied overalls
symbolize
his labour,
in the
same
way
that Tswana
migrants
conceive of themselves as
yoked
beasts that
stand "outside" creative social life
(Comaroff
and Comaroff
1987:200).
Mberego
has a number of
oppositions
-
such as
mushumo,
or traditional
work, defined in the
saying
"Mushumi u
la zwa biko
]awe" (the
worker
enjoys
the fruits of his
labour),
and
Jhala (to build)
-
which are used to describe
rewarding processes
of both material and
symbolic
construction. This
essay
focuses on the
deployment by
Venda musician Solomon Mathase
(see Kruger
1999b)
of another
opposition
to
mberego, namely
a
performance category
known as mitambo
jiveni (from English
"jive").
It is a modernized form of
mitambo malendeni, traditional choral dance
songs
and drama that
accompany
beer
drinking.
It
creatively syncretizes
traditional and Western musical cate-
gories,
and its
performance
at rural bars is
accompanied by guitars
and
keyboards (Kruger 2000).
Like the Sesotho
category
of
lipapali,
mitambo
translates as
"games"
or
"plays" (from
u tamba, to
play).
For the most
part,
these
"plays"
are sites of unobtrusive
political struggle involving
the creative
articulation of "subversive
poetics", through
which
performers engage
in
sym-
bolic resistance to various forms of domination and
corruption (Comaroff
and
Comaroff 1989, 1993; Scott
1993).
Venda musical culture has been an
integral part
of
mutually sustaining
symbolic
and material
practices
invoked in the
political reorganization
of
Venda
during
and towards the end of the colonial
period (Scott 1993:184; see
Kruger 1996, 1999).
The ritual transformations of Mathase's mitambo
jiveni
performances correspondingly
invoked "the hierarchical
relationship
between a
conflicted or
ambiguous
set of relations and some
higher-level principle"
that
served, at least for ritual
purposes,
as its
generative
mechanism or transcenden-
tal
ground (T.
Turner
1977:61).
This
concept
interfaces with Victor Turner's
(1969)
well-known
interpretation
of social life as a dialectic of structure and
communitas. Thus, the
conflicting array
of relations refers to social structure as
"a set of classifications which orders
public
life"
by
means of a
differentiated,
segmented,
and often hierarchical
system
of institutionalized
positions,
while
the
higher-level principle
refers to communitas as "an undifferentiated, homo-
geneous whole,
in which individuals confront one another
integrally,
and not as
'segmentalized'
into statuses and roles"
(V.
Turner
1969:127, 177).
Accordingly,
Mathase and his
co-performers
are
presented
here as "malcon-
tents of
modernity",
members of a subaltern class whose musical rituals
addressed their
perceived
lack of
power
in a world controlled
by
alien
forces,
corrupt political systems
and local
plutocracies (Comaroff
and Comaroff
1993).
These rituals
preserved
links with a
morally
constituted cosmic order
(Reily
in
press: 11),
which was invoked as a means of
resisting
the breach
of
precolonial egalitarian
norms that has
accompanied
the introduction of a
capitalist economy,
a
process
which is
perceived
to
prioritize
the selfish accu-
mulation of wealth. Mathase
correspondingly
invoked a
"higher-level principle"
3
4
BRITISH JOURNAL OF ETHNOMUSICOLOGY VOL.10/ii 2001
that he referred to as "God's land"
(shango la
Mudzimu).
This was a
personal
formulation of a wider discourse which advocated a redefinition of the ethos of
capitalism (Austen 1993).
Mathase's moral
economy
was not
opposed
to
capi-
talism; rather, it took the form of a
plea
for
seeing through
and behind divisive
social boundaries. This
plea
was aimed less at
erasing
these boundaries from
the consciousness of
performers
than at
renegotiating asymmetric
social rela-
tions
by insisting
on a fundamental human
commonality (V.
Turner 1974, cited
in MacAloon 1984:266).
Although
God's land was enacted
ritually through
various interconnected
expressive
codes
(Kruger 2000),
this
essay
focuses on the verbal code, repre-
sented here
by excerpts
derived from a collection of 96
song
texts recorded
over a
three-year period (1989-92). Although
the content and form of these
songs
are
interdependent,
I
initially present
a number of
song
texts without
their musical articulation as a means of
addressing
the moral and emotional
impetus
of Mathase's ritual behaviour. In the first
part
of the
essay, song
texts
are used
initially
as a means of
discussing
the material and historical circum-
stances of Mathase's life and then to
provide
an illustration of his formulation
of God's land, which articulates his critical reactions to his circumstances.
The
way
Mathase
prioritizes
the universal human condition
points beyond
the
dynamic
of material imbalances to
highlight
the
patterns
of humiliation
that
typically accompany
economic
deprivation. Experiences
of
indignity
in
situations of submission and forced deference are not
necessarily secondary
to
explicit
material manifestations of domination.
Consequently,
forms of
symbolic
action not
only may mitigate patterns
of material
exploitation
and
provide
a
counter-ideology
to social
inequality; they
can also mark resistance
to habitual insults to
dignity (Scott 1993:111, 117-18).
I will show that Mathase
experienced
the humiliation of his economic and
professional
subordination
acutely,
and that he mediated this emotional condition in his
capacity
as
expert
musician
(see Kruger 1999/2000).
Mathase effected a transformation of his status
through
the
performative
articulation of God's land,
which allowed him to control
experience
and thus
construe his own alternative
reality (Comaroff
and Comaroff 1989:286,
Driver
1991:91-2, Tambiah 1985:78-9).
The
efficacy
of Mathase's musical rituals
depended
as much on the ideas that are
verbally expressed
-
and the senti-
ments associated with them
-
as on the
power
of their non-verbal
symbols
(Blacking 1985b:67). Accordingly,
the
expressive aspects
of Mathase's moral
discourse
emphasize
the need to
investigate
the modes
through
which verbal
utterances were
presented.
This
approach
invokes Turner's familiar ritual continuum,
which is flanked
by poles
of
cognitive
and affective
meaning. Principles
of moral and social
order that
guide
and control
persons
as members of social
groups
cluster
around the
cognitive pole,
while the affective
pole
constitutes
processes
that
arouse
feelings.
Musical ritual thus
produces
an
"intelligence
of
feeling"
(Witkin 1976,
cited in
Blacking 1985a:65) through
an
interchange
of ideolo-
gical
and
sensory meanings
which
provides
ethical norms with an emotional
charge (V.
Turner
1967:28-30).
It could be
argued, therefore,
that this form of
KRUGER Playing
performance
and social resistance in South Africa
emotional
intelligence
is a
primary modelling system
for the
organization
of
social life, and its
powerful capacity
to stimulate
imagination
and
expand
con-
sciousness can "affect motivation, commitment,
and
decision-making
in other
spheres
of life"
(Blacking 1985a:65, 69).
Aesthetic forms of consciousness
operate
as more than narrative models of or for
reality; they
are instances of the
making
of the world
by
means of various non-verbal aesthetic devices, or the
"poetics of
history" (Comaroff
and Comaroff
1987).
Humans do not abandon
reason for emotion in these circumstances. However, as
Blacking (1985a:67,
69) contended,
"before decisions are
crystallised
in words that relate to
specific
social and economic
problems,
the attitudes that influence them can sometimes
be felt and
expressed through
another kind of
reasoning,
whose
grammar
and
content are most
effectively, though
not
exclusively, expressed
in non-verbal
language". Thus,
in the second
part
of this
essay
I look at how the emotional
impact
and ritual enactment of the tenets of God's land were effected in
per-
formance
through
the
application
of certain structural characteristics of musical
patterns.
Suzel
Reily
notes
appropriately
that
In
participatory genres
the formal
properties
of the musical
style
used in a
given
context articulate
dialectically
with the
conceptual
orientations and
motivations of the
performers,
and
together they negotiate
their
perform-
ance
practices
in the
very
act of music
making.
Where
sociability
is the
prime objective underlying
the musical event one would
expect participants
to construct their musical
performances
in a manner which makes extensive
use of the interactive
potential
of their
repertoire.
(Reily
in
press: 16)
I will show that Mathase made intensified use of
cyclic
call and
response
patterns
that not
only generated heightened
emotions and social
solidarity
but
which also effected the ritual reversal of his subordinate social status.
However,
Mathase's
manipulation
of form and content did not occur in
any
uniform or
predetermined way;
rather it was controlled
by specific
ritual
objectives.
James
Scott
(1993:178)
notes that ritual domains are marked
by
various forms of
social conflict and
symbolic manipulation,
none of which can be
said, prima
facie,
to
prevail. Instead, rituals, as well as the
phases
within
them, employ
specific
modes of interrelated
symbols
at different times
(V.
Turner
1967:32).
Correspondingly,
most Venda dance events feature a
dynamic
interaction of
discursive and
expressive
ritual elements
(Blacking 1985a).
As I will show,
the content and form of Mathase's
songs
were often
mutually reinforcing,
and
therefore must be considered
interdependently. However, Mathase's
perform-
ances also
comprised phases
in which one
quality enjoyed priority.
In cases
where the dominant
expressive
code was dance, instrumental
accompaniment
and
singing
at times served
only
an aesthetic
purpose; yet,
as I have
argued
elsewhere
(2000:89-91),
such
performance
can constitute essential vehicles of
somatic
symbolism. Although
Mathase's
song
texts were a basic ritual element,
I will illustrate two instances in which
they
were subordinated to the
manipula-
tion of the
cyclic
call and
response
form of the music.
5
A
history
of
poverty
A dominant characteristic of Solomon Mathase's life and
personality
has been
a vicissitudinous
relationship
between
negative
and
positive self-images.
He
often came across in
song
texts and conversation as fatalistic, with remarks
such as: "I don't know
nothing",
and "Whenever I
attempt something
it ends
in failure". At other times, especially
in
performance,
he
presented
himself as
energetic, goal-directed
and
optimistic, saying,
"I use
my
heart and mind, and
I can do
everything".
The roots of his fatalism were embedded in his troubled
youth.
Mathase lives in his ancestral home in
Ngulumbi,
a western
village-
suburb of the town
Thohoyandou,
which
developed rapidly
as the commercial
centre of the Venda area over the last two decades of the twentieth
century.
Mathase's father, Mbulaheni, was a diviner and hunter who died in 1953, when
his son was
only
three
years
old. Mathase's mother, Tshinakao
(b. 1918),
was
only partly
active in the local
economy4
because she had been almost blind
since her
youth.
Her
physical disability prevented
her from
providing
her
young
children with
adequate
material
support
after her husband's death. Mathase's
discourse
constantly
revealed the scars caused
by
the
untimely
death of his
father and his mother's blindness, as in the
following song
texts:
Nnie ndi dothe. I am alone.
5
Baba vho ntsiela vhusiwana. Father left
misery.
Nne thi lali dakani sa kholomo
ya
mboho. I do not
sleep
in the forest like
a bull.
Makhulu, nne ndi a nala. Gran,
I am
angry.
Vho-mme
anga:
Vho mbeba
nga
Iwa
bofu. My
mother: You
gave
birth
being
blind.6
Nne ndo
tungufhala
matsiko hu na I am in sorrow while someone
munwe na nne o ntseavho. is
laughing
at me.
As a
young boy
Mathase looked after his grandmother's
goats,
cattle and
donkeys,
and he
graduated
from murundu, the tribal initiation school for
boys.
He took
up
the
playing
of instruments that are
typically
associated with
herding
and
courting
-
musical bows,
the transverse flute and the
lamellaphone.
He
also made himself a
guitar
at the
age
of 14,
and he has been an
accomplished
guitarist
and
singer
ever since.
Mathase left
primary
school in 1967 when he was in
grade
four and
already
17
years
old:
Nne ndi humbula
nga lihwe auvha.
I remember the
day
Ndo shavha tshikolo! I ran
away
from school!
7
4
Despite
her blindness, she
participated
in the annual
mopani
worm harvest.
Groups
of local
women visited farms in the Northern Province
during
summer to collect these worms,
which
were sold as a traditional
delicacy.
5
Ngulumbi,
6 June 1992.
6
Song extract, Ngulumbi,
25
May
1991.
7
Song extract, Ngulumbi,
7
September
1991.
6
KRUGER Playing
performance
Vhabebi vha ri: Zwithu zwi a tshintsha.
Vhonani, namusi a thi na na tshithu.
Shango ngoho-ngoho
Jo tshintsha.
Ho Jha;iwa zwikolo na
mashopo.
Ho
rengwa ngoho dzigoloi.
yamusi
mmawe thi na na tshithu.
Ene Mudzimu u a
divha.
Mmawee, ndo zwi wana!
Ndi humbula na baba
vhanga.
Vho khakha
nga
u lovha
shangoni.
Thahwe
arali vha hone
shangoni.
Hone vho mbeba vha
do
nthusa.
My parents
said:
Things
are
changing.
See, today
I do not have
anything.
The
country
has
changed
much.
Schools and
shops
have been built.
Cars are
being purchased.
Mother, today
I do not have
anything.
Only
God knows
my suffering.
Mother, I am in trouble!
I remember
my
father.
The
problem
is that he died.
If
only
he could be here. Because he
conceived me he would have
helped
me.
Hunger
caused
by poverty
had driven the Mathase
family
to
partial
reliance
on wild fruit and edible
plants.
This
impoverished
diet
may
have contributed to
an
eye
condition which
prevented
Mathase from
seeing
the school chalkboard
properly. However, he saw his
temporary
weak vision as a manifestation of
spiritual
intervention. His father's
spirit appeared
to him first in a dream
during
this troubled
period.
This
appearance
initiated a
process
of
life-long
communi-
cation with the ancestral
spirit
world. The
spirit
informed Mathase that he
would
guide
his son
through
life if he observed ancestral
morality.
This
spiri-
tual revelation led Mathase to reflect on his life, and he realized that the
only
logical
solution to his
poverty
would be
employment.
He left home soon after-
wards to become a
migrant
labourer. His father's
spirit
also
performed
a
song
in his dream and it served as the
inspiration
for one of his best-known
songs,
"Nwana wa vhathu"
(A poverty-stricken man),
which is discussed below. This
dream allowed Mathase to become a member of the zwilombe class of musi-
cians. Zwilombe
(tshilombe, sing)
are
expert semi-professional
musicians who
act as social critics. Like Mathase, they usually
receive
supernatural
sanction
for this role from ancestral
spirits
who
appear
to them in dreams
(Kruger
1999/
2000).
Mathase's role as tshilombe would offer him both
psychological refuge
and financial
support
for the rest of his life.
After
leaving
school Mathase went to live with an older cousin in
Johannesburg. Despite
the
spiritual
intervention of his father, leaving
home
was a traumatic
experience:
Nne ndo tambula
Makhadzi wanga, i<fani
ni shele ma1i.
Nne ndi
ya
ngafhi?
Ndi kha tshino
ngafhano
zwi a
tanama.
Muzwala, nne, idani, ri tuwe.
I suffered.
My aunt, sacrifice to the ancestors.
Where should I
go?
Whenever I
attempt something
it ends in failure.
Cousin, come, let us
go.
7
8 BRITISH JOURNAL OF ETH NOM U S I CO LOGY VOL.10/ii 2001
Nda nala
hayani.
I am
forsaking
home.
Buretse ndi tsini
nga milenzhe. Brits is not far to walk to.
Thi
ngofunzwa.
I am not educated.
Nne ndo lisa mbudzi ndi kale
ngoho. Long ago
I looked after
goats.
Nn,e thi na na tshithu
ndifhano.
I do not have
anything
here.
Baba, wee! Alas father!
This
song
describes a ritual
performed by
Mathase's aunt
(the customary
ritual
head of the
family) prior
to his
departure
for
Johannesburg.
Called u
phasa
madi,
it involves
squirting
water from the mouth to "cool down" or
pacify
trou-
bled ancestral
spirits
and to ease
personal
tension and
family
conflict. Line
three
("Where
should I
go?")
not
only
refers to the uncertain destination of a
migrant leaving
home for the first time, it also serves as a
trope
for
psychologi-
cal and cultural disorientation concomitant with social
change.
Mathase never worked at Brits
(line 8),
a rural town west of Pretoria. How-
ever, the
history
of Venda
migrant
labour has close associations with farm
labour in this area.8
By referring
to this town and his cousin, Mathase extends
his work
experiences
to all other Venda
migrants.
This kind of identification
that addresses shared
experience
is a basic trait of musicians like Mathase,
and
is one of the
preconditions
for effective ritual communal action.
Mathase first worked for one of
Johannesburg's
western local councils as a
building
assistant in 1970. He left after
only
a
year
because he clashed with his
Zulu foreman,
whose
language
he did not understand. He then
(1971-81)
worked as a machine
operator
at a
processed
meat
factory
in
Johannesburg,
eventually rising
to the
position
of section
supervisor. However, his
promotion
caused
jealousy among
his co-workers,
which led to a deterioration in work
relations. Because of a love affair, he arrived late for work several times. These
factors led to his dismissal.
During
the next few
years
he worked as a
delivery
assistant, security guard
and
gardener
in
Johannesburg.
The main cause of this
fractured work
pattern
was the difficulties he
experienced
with labour influx
control
regulations.
He became
unemployed
at the end of 1985 and decided to
return to Venda.
Mathase established a
permanent performance pattern during
his
stay
in
Johannesburg.
He
bought
an acoustic
guitar
and started to
perform
at weekend
beer drinks. He received
gifts
of
money
from beer drinkers, earning
around
?6 over a weekend. He also
joined
a band
featuring guitars, piano
and drums.
The other members of the band were all Northem-Sotho
speakers,
and
they
translated some of his Venda
songs
into their mother
tongue.
A local record
company
recorded two of these
songs
on solo
singles.
The first
song
was
8
Labourers were fetched from Venda
by
truck to be
employed
as "six-to-six" labourers
(i.e. working daily
from 6 a.m. to 6
p.m.)
on
vegetable
and tobacco farms. Guitarist Albert
Mundalamo remarked that, although
the
wages
of farm labourers were
low, they always
received free food
(particularly
farm
produce)
and beer. There were also
many
"widows"
in this area
(referring
to the
keeping
of
lovers).
In contrast, he
complained,
tea estates in
Venda did not offer these "benefits".
KRUGER Playing
in the land of God: musical performance
recorded
during
the 1970s. It was
popular
for a while,
and Mathase received
a
royalty
of ?100. The second
song
was recorded in 1985, for which he was
paid
?55.
The financial situation in the Mathase household became tense on Mathase's
return to Venda in 1985. His
wife,
and his mother and adult sister who lived
with them, did not work.
Hunting
had been made
illegal,
and
population
increase had
put
severe
pressure
on local natural food resources and land.
Consequently, very
few local families farmed
extensively.
The Mathase
family
had a field at a
neighbouring village.
Because of its small size and the
difficulty
of
maintaining
it at a distance, however,
it made little contribution to the house-
hold
economy.
Mathase therefore decided to trade in
marijuana,
for which
he earned a
relatively good
income of as much as ?60 a month,
but he was
reported
to the local headman,
who
reprimanded
him. Mathase defended him-
self
by stating
that the
only options
available to him as an
unemployed
worker
were either to
engage
in the
marijuana
trade or to let his children become
thieves. The headman's brother intervened
(no
doubt
prompted by
Mathase's
threat that the
royal
avocado orchard would be
targeted
first
by
his
thieving
children)
and
helped
Mathase
gain employment
as a labourer in the technical
services section at the
University
of Venda in 1986.
Mathase continued his
performances
at beer drinks on his return to Venda.
He once was
paid
?6 for
recording songs
for Radio
Thohoyandou,
the local
station, and he
occasionally
received about ?2 a month from the radio station
when it broadcast these
songs.
He sometimes was invited to
perform
at
stokfel
credit association
meetings
at month ends,9
for which his remuneration varied
between ?10 and ?15.
Occasionally
Mathase also
performed
at student hostels
on the
campus
of Venda
University, especially
when he was in dire financial
need. Students
gave
him small amounts of
cash,
and he sometimes made about
?10 at these events. The amounts he received for musical
performance
were
a valuable
supplement
to his
inadequate salary.
When I met him in 1989 his
net
salary
was ?35
per
month. His
monthly
income increased to ?40 in 1990,
?46 in
1991, ?50 in 1992, and ?59 in 1993. These amounts were insufficient to
support
the Mathase
family,
which consisted of four adults and five children
(Figure 1).
Mathase became bitter about his financial difficulties, and he
described his income
caustically
as
"peanuts".
James Scott (1993:114)
notes that
"damage
to one's
dignity
is
particularly
severe in a
person's personal
circle and his subordinates to whom he stands in a
relationship
of
power". Indeed, Mathase became embarrassed because his wife,
sister and mother sometimes
quarrelled
over their
poverty.
He
consequently
gave
his last-born son
(b. 1992)
the name Avhatakali, meaning "They
are not
9
David
Coplan (1985:102)
describes
stokfel
as a credit
ring
"in which each member con-
tributes a set amount each week in
anticipation
of
receiving
the combined contributions of all
the other members at
regular
intervals.
Commonly,
each member, in turn, uses the
lump
sum
she receives to finance a
stokfel party,
at which other members and
guests pay
admission and
buy
food and
liquor
and even musical entertainment. Profits
go
to the hostess of the week."
9
BRITISH JOURNAL OF ETHNOMUSICOLOGY
Figure
1 Mathase
family
at
Ngulumbi (c. 1991). Back (left to
right):
mother Tshinakao,
wife Sandra, sister Mbilummbi and Solomon; front
(left to
right): Avhatakali, Takalani,
Phatushedzo, Michael and
Nyadzani.
happy",
to reflect his
family's
emotional
condition,
and he
composed
a
song
which alluded to his domestic conflicts:10
Tshinwe tsho
n(la phanla.
Tshinwe tsho nla murahu.
Nda wana zwo
nkanganyisa.
Ngwena-vho
i vhamba
ngwenia.
I was threatened in front.
I was threatened from behind.
I was confused.
Crocodiles are
clashing.
For
Mathase,
the main
symbol
of his
poverty
was his traditional thatched
homestead. He often remarked that his home was unattractive and
dilapidated,
as in the
following song:
1
Nne ndi dzula hayani
hu
songo
naka na vhahwe vhathu,
mudini
wo
vhifhaho.
Nge vha a ntsea na vhahwe vhathu.
Vha a
mmbenga.
Vha ri ndi a Iwala.
I live at a home which is not
beautiful like that of
others,
the
dilapidated
home.
Other
people laugh
at me.
They
hate me.
They say
I am
possessed.
Most local
homesteads,
like that of the Mathase
family,
had thatched roofs and
walls of
clay
brick which
required ongoing
maintenance and
expense.
Mathase
10
Ngulumbi,
7
September
1991.
"l
Ngulumbi,
7
September
1991.
10
VOL. 1 0/ii 2001
KRUGER Playing in the land of God: musical performance and social resistance in South Africa
Figure
2 Solomon and Takalani
(June 1991).
was not
only
ashamed of his thatched homestead; it also had become too small
for his
expanding family. Improved housing
thus became one of his main ambi-
tions, and he
expressed
it
by
means of the
metaphor
"That
song
is
my song".
"That
song"
was a reference to the brick house he wanted, and
"song"
thus
became a
metaphor
for his
struggle
for a better life. But
"song"
was also more
than that: musical
performance
made the
long, painful struggle
bearable. This
process
started in 1992 when Mathase's
employer
sent him on a
building
course. He
passed
the course and was
presented
with a certificate, of which he
was
very proud.
This not
only gave
him new
hope
for career advancement but
also enabled him to start
building
his house. He
managed
to secure the first of
a number of small
building
loans from his
employer.12
He
bought
doors and
window frames with this loan and
purchased
bricks with
subsequent
loans.
By
1998 he had
only
to
complete
the roof of his new house. The house was
situated on his
plot
such that a
garage
could be added in
future, which would
house the car he was determined to
purchase.
Another basic condition of
poverty
for Mathase was the
periodic hunger
of
his
family.
Thus he
performed
the
song "Hunger"
for his toddler son Takalani
on a bleak, bitterly
cold June afternoon in 1991. The
boy
was
thickly
clad and
wore a woollen
cap (Figure 2).
He looked at his father and touched his
guitar
while Mathase
sang:
12
People
like Mathase who lived on ancestral tribal land did not
qualify
for bank loans.
11
BRITI SH JOU RNAL OF ETH NOM U S I CO LOGY VOL.10/ii 2001
Nne ndo
shengela,
nne ndo tambula.
Nne, tambulani, nne, nwana
wanga.
Tolelani nne, Takalani.
Tolelani nwana
wanga, Taki, Taki, wee.
Nne ndo
swogola.
Nne ndo shona.
Thumbu khalini.
I suffered, I suffered.
I, suffer, I, my
child.
Look at me, Takalani.
Look
my child, Taki, Taki, alas.
I
struggled.
I was ashamed.
We are
hungry:
Our stomachs
are
waiting
at the
cooking pot.
Mathase
explained
his
poverty by
means of two core
metaphors
that invoked
the
concepts
of
orphanhood
and the extended
family. Orphanhood (vhusiwana)
is
widely
associated in African cultures with
poverty
and
suffering.
Even
though
Mathase had a mother and other
family members, the death of his father had
such an
impact
on him that he considered himself an
orphan.
He also received
no
significant
moral or financial
support
from his relatives. When he became
the victim of a
pickpocket,
he was forced to turn to his
employer,
who
granted
him an advance on his
salary.
Several
songs
contain references to the extended
family (lushaka). Family
members are not identified
by
name but
by
their
position
as
parents, siblings,
cousins, or aunts. The extended
family metaphor
thus embodies the African
belief that
having
relatives and friends is a form of wealth. Ultimate
poverty
means not
only lacking
such wealth but also
being
abandoned
by
the modem
state. Mathase's final return to Venda in 1985 coincided with the
emergence
of
an
increasingly repressive regime
of traditional leaders. Enticed
by
an offer of
autonomous rule
by
the
apartheid government,
these leaders came to
power
in
1979.
They consistently repressed
all
political opposition during
a turbulent
ten-year period
marked
by
massive strikes and
political
violence. However,
public opinion eventually
turned
against them,
and the Venda
military
carried
out a bloodless
coup
in 1990. A
military regime
ruled
uneasily
until Venda was
reincorporated
into South Africa in 1994
(Kruger 1999, forthcoming).
Mathase attributed his
poverty
and
suffering partly
to the
incompetent,
corrupt leadership
of the
ruling
Venda National
Party.
He accused Frank
Ravele,
who led the
party during
the late
1980s,
of
being power-hungry
and of not
having
the welfare of his
people
at heart. Ravele, popularly
described as a man
who had a
"helicopter
for a
taxi",
became
representative
of all
incompetent
and
uneducated leaders whose failures were mirrored in their
"ugly
faces":
Havha Vho-Ravele vhone vho dzhia
hetshi tshidulo tsha
president
PR.
Mphephu.
A si zwavho, vho tou
renga.
Zyamusi zwofhela.
Vhafana
na nne naa?
Ndi khwine vha
mpfare.
Ndi khwine vha ndzhie.
This Mr Ravele took the
position
Of
president
P.R.
Mphephu.
It is not
yours, you bought
it.13
Today
that is over.
You are now
just
as
poor
as me.
It is better to arrest me.
It is better to arrest me
13
This accusation derives from Ravele's elevation from councillor to chief
prior
to his
appointment
as
president,
a
step regarded
as
illegal.
12
KRUGER Playing
(Singing
continues in
English)
It is better to
get
rid of me
by
ritual murder.
But
yesterday you
were the
president.
But because
today you
are
suffering.
But because
your position
is not
your position.
Where is the
helicopter
from
Thohoyandou
to Nzhelele?
Is the S.T. Solomon Tshinetise Mathase is
speaking.
Better to come to catch me,
but because I am
talking
too true.
Anytime
I am
ready.
But because this
people
is
long
time
you robbing
that
people,
another
people,
and me also.
And so, on
top
of that I am a
poor
man.
You want
again
another
money.
So
my salary
is
very
small.
Corrupt politicians
were contrasted with leaders like Nelson Mandela, who
was seen as
"breaking" apartheid
and
stimulating political consciousness, and
military coup
leader Gabriel Ramushwana,
who was "concerned about
orphans"
and streamlined the
paying
of
old-age pensions. However, ultimately
there
were no
fully competent leaders, and Mathase asked the
perennial question,
"Who is
good?":
I vha ri, muvhuya
ndi
nnyi
shangoni la
Mudzimu ?
I vha ri, wa vhukuma, ngoho,
u bva
ngafhi?
Nne ndo
mangala hoyu
Ramushwana
a tshi ri Venda lo
vhuyelela
murahu.
I vha ri, sedzani Gatsha Buthelezi
na zwithu zwawe.
Nne ndo
mangala
i
hoyu
Mandela
o lwa na musadzi.
Winnie Mandela o lwa na munna.
Mboho ndi mbili.
Winnie Mandela na ene ndi mboho.
Ndi
ngazwo
ndi vha vhudze:
Muvhuya
ndi
nnyi?
Muvhuya
ndi Yehova.
Mulinda Israela ha edeli.
They say,
who is
good
in the land of God?14
They say,
where can a
good
person
be found?
I was amazed when Ramushwana
said that Venda had been
reincorporated.
They say,
look at Gatsha Buthelezi
and his tricks.15
I was amazed when Mandela
argued
with his wife.
Winnie Mandela
fought
with her
husband.
Two bulls were
clashing.
Winnie Mandela also is a bull.
That is
why
I am
asking:
Who is
good?
Only
God is
good.
The
protector
of Israel does
not
sleep.
14
Ngulumbi,
6 June 1992.
15
This comment relates to the
jostle
for
power
between the African National
Congress
and
the Inkatha Freedom
Party (led by Buthelezi) prior
to the elections of 1994.
13
Mathase's criticism extended
beyond
the
political
domain to address increas-
ing
cleavages along
class lines, and the
widespread
lack of
compassion
and
general
immoral behaviour
accompanying
social
change. Although
Venda and its
wealth
belonged
to all, the
poor reaped
few benefits.
Nepotism
and
usurpation
was rife, people engaged
in destructive
competition,
and the
increasing
chasm
between the
wealthy
and the
poor
caused
jealousy,
witchcraft and crime. The
"greedy
rich" did not
only
not care for the
poor, they
also had no
regard
for their
feelings.
This theme is addressed in several
songs,
such as those below:
Vhapfumi
-
Rich
people
16
Nne ndo dzhia vhurukhu na badzhi yanga.
Ndo isa
aliraikilini.
Nwedzi wofhela:
N~ne
a thi
ngo
hola.
Nda kundwa na
peni.
Havha
vhapfumi
vha
tonga nga
vhathu.
Vhonani, ndi Gudu Furaidei.
A thi na vhurukhu. A thi na badzhi.
(Singing
continues in
English)
You are the rich man.
But because, me, I'm a
very poor
man.
I don't know
nothing.
But because Jesus is Jesus.
17
Havha
vhapfumi
vha
tonga nga
vhathu.
Ni
songo
sea.
Vhone,
Vho-yemaorani,
vha
songo
kola
nga
vhathu.
(Singing
continues in
English)
You are the rich. Me, I'm
very poor
man.
But because I haven't
got nothing.
Please
try
to
help
me.
Hefi
shango
-
This
country18
Heli shango, heli shango lo
naka.
Vha ri, Ji dinwa
nga
vhathu.
Nne ndi humbula vhusiwana.
Nne tho
ngofunzwa.
I handed in
my
trousers and
jacket
at the
dry
cleaner.
The month has ended:
my pay
is
inadequate.
I am
virtually penniless.
These rich
people
swank
uncaringly.
See, it is Good
Friday:
a time of
feasting.
But I have
no
money
to collect
my
clothes.
These rich
people
swank
uncaringly.
Do not
laugh.
You, Mr
Wealthy Drycleaner,
do not swank
uncaringly.
This
country,
this
country
is
beautiful.
They say,
it is troubled
by people.
I remember
misery.
I am not educated.
16
Ngwenani,
30 March 1991.
17
An
appeal
to the Christian ethic of love and
sharing
18
Ngulumbi, 6 June 1992.
14
KRUGER Playing
performance and social resistance in South Africa
Nne tho
ngo ya
tshikoloni.
Nne thi
aIivhi
na u vhala.
Vhalali
a vhafheli.
Nne ndi khwine
ngauri
ndi slaba1aba.
Nn,e thi vhoni ndi tshi ndinaho.
Ndi khou amba
nga
u
safunzwa.
Ndi
khomphethisheni.
Ndi
mupfufhi
u sa
mphire.
Vho tou
thanyesa.
I did not
go
to school.
I do not how how to read.
There are
many
clever
people.
I am better because I am
ignorant.
Nothing
troubles me.
I
say
this because I am not
educated.
There is
competition.
Everyone
wants to be at the
top.
They
are too clever for their
own
good.
Vhotswotswi - Criminals19
Vhotswotswi vho
nnyimela dzikhoneni.
Ri khetha
ifhio
ndila?
Ri bva
nga yafhasi.
Ya ntha i na mini?
I na nwando.
Criminals are
waiting
around
comers.
Which
way
should we take?
We will take the bottom
path.
What awaits us on the
top path?
There is dew that will make
us slide.
The emotions
accompanying
Mathase's
poverty
and subordination were
extremely powerful.
Of these, indignity,
embarrassment and shame were
para-
mount. Mathase
recognized
that not all the factors
causing
his
poverty
were
extraneous. He remarked that if he had been more obedient to his mother as a
child, perhaps
he would not have
struggled
in adult life. He blamed himself for
absconding
from school and home and for not
listening
to his
parents,
who told
him that
society
was
changing:
Nne ndo kholwa Buretse!
Nne ndi khou tambula.
Nne, ndo shona-vho.
Phungo
i bva
muaini.
Nga heyi phungo yanga yo
nnyisa
kule
hafha
shangoni la
hashu.
Nne ndo kholwa Buretse.
Nne ndo kholwa vhone
nga
ndavha
ya
hone vhusiwana.
Nne, ndo shona-vho.
I absconded to Brits!20
I am
suffering.
I am
just
ashamed.
There is a rumour from
my
home about me.
This rumour has
spread
all over.
I absconded to Brits.
I abandoned home
because of
poverty.
I am
just
ashamed.
A
neighbour
once remarked that she could not understand how an
ugly
man
like him could have married such a beautiful woman. In addition, his wife
19
Ngulumbi,
6 June 1992.
20
Madamalala, 2 June 1990.
15
BRITISH JOURNAL OF ETH NOM U S I CO LOGY VO L. 1 0/i i 2001
had
passed grade eight
at school and could write and
speak passable English.
Mathase was embarrassed because he had a lower school
qualification
and
struggled
to
express
himself in
English.
He
consequently
described himself as
a
"guitar-bashing
baboon" who
only
made music and drank beer, thus
neglect-
ing
his
hungry family.
He often remarked that he was drunk, mad and
ugly.
He also
applied
the
concept
of
ugliness morally
to evaluate himself as "shit"
because he felt he did not
provide adequately
for his
family.
Mathase could see
no solution to his
problem
of
poverty during
the
period
I studied his music-
making, remarking
that he
always
would be
poor.
From this
knowledge
was
born a sense of
hopelessness
that made him
question
his
very
existence. He
remarked that he should have died when he was born (Nne ngavhe
vha mbebe
ndife)
and that his insecure existence had one
certainty only: "Going
under-
ground
-
six feet".
The land of God: an idealized social alternative
God's land was a
symbolic
environment constituted
by
a discourse on moral
relations of
production.
In essence, it was an
attempt
to
provide
a framework
for the redefinition of
asymmetric
social relations on the basis of Christian
and ancestral moral
imperatives.
The
seeming contradictory
nature of this
model
emerged
from the role of
religion
in colonial social
reorganization
as
well as from Mathase's own worldview. As indicated before, Mathase's main
religious
observances took the form of communication with his ancestral
spirits. However, he was also a nominal Lutheran who was
fully
aware that
Christianity provided
a
powerful
discourse of
public negotiation.
The first
mission in central Venda was established in 1872
by
the Lutheran church
only
a few kilometres from the Mathase home in the
neighbouring
suburb of
Maungani.
The church soon established schools in the
area,
and the
primary
school that Mathase attended was built
by
the church
during
this time. The
church controlled school education until the 1950s and,
with other local
denominations,
it continues to
suppress
various forms of
precolonial
culture.
It influenced the
appointment
of teachers and civil servants,
who were
expected
to be Christians, making
church
membership
an
important require-
ment for social
mobility. However,
Mathase
thought
that church attendance
was a waste of time because it
prevented
him from
engaging
in the weekend
music-making
that
generated
much-needed income and anchored him in a
supportive
social network.
Although
Mathase internalized a
religious
discourse of colonial
import
to
communicate and
persuade others,
he did not do so in
passive
submission.
He
captured
its
potency
in the autonomous form of God's land,
which not
only
revealed the colonization of African consciousness but also his consciousness
of colonization
(Comaroff
and Comaroff
1989). Accordingly,
he
argued
that
those who
professed
to be Christians had to act out their
religious
conviction.
They
had to love and
help
him because God cared and "did not disassociate
16
himself from his creatures". Good and
helpful people
were those who had
God's
spirit
in them and who were
"inspired" by
Him. He often remarked in
song
and conversation that "Jesus is Jesus", "I am a child of this
God, Lord
Jesus", and that his was a Christian home.21 He
explained
these statements
by
remarking
that "God created all of us, while Jesus died for the sins of black
and white
people.
This means that we are the same. We all breathe the same
air, and we will all end
up
under the
ground.
The
only thing separating
us is
language."
This Christian discourse was invoked in tandem with shared as
well as distinctive ancestral moral
imperatives, especially
those
pertaining
to
the
power
of traditional
authority,
and the
importance
of
kinship, friendship,
sharing, inclusiveness, respect,
and
formality:
Humbulani vhakale
-
Honour
your
ancestors22
Humbulani vhakale.
Nwananga,
namusi no humbula-vho.
Ayamusi
na inwi no nkhumbula-vho.
Ndi tshi amba
ngauralo
ndi humbula
ngauri
vhone vho
siya ifa langa.
Honour
your
ancestors.
My child, today
we are
just
honouring.
Today you
are
just honouring.
I am
saying
this because the
ancestors
left me a
heritage.
Pfananani
- Mutual
understanding23
Vha ri muzila kha u
vhuye
shango
li lale.
Vha ri tshikale kha tshi
vhuye
shango Ji lale.
Na nne ndo zwi vhona
zwa ri nndwa i bva
ngafhi.
Vha ri, vhatshena na
vhone a
vhafani vholhe.
Tshikale kha tshi
vhuye.
Ri tshile rothe.
They say
tradition24 must return
so that there can be
peace.
They say
the
past
must return
so that there can be order.
And I realized how
conflict started.
They say,
white
people
do not all behave the same.25
The
past
must return.
We must all live.
21
When he conducted the
naming
ritual
(bvisa nwana)
of his
youngest
son Avhatakali
(b. 1992), he invited his
family
while his wife Sandra invited members of her church (the
United
Apostolic Church). Mathase
bought
a
goat
for ?12 as well as beer to feed his visitors.
While the women
sang hymns
and
prayed
for the child inside the house, Mathase entertained
his male relatives outside around a bucket of beer. Later
during
the afternoon
everybody
moved into the
courtyard
and
performed drinking songs.
22
Ngulumbi,
23
May
1992.
23
Ngulumbi,
23
May
1992.
24
Literally,
tribal tax.
25
A simultaneous
acknowledgement
of the destructive effect of colonization and the need to
avoid racial
stereotypes.
17
18 BR ITI SH JO UR NAL O F ETH NOM US ICOLOGY VOL .1 0/l i 200 1
Hulisa vhabebi
-
Respect your parents
26
Inwi
aIi
khoniiheni
shangoni la
Mudzimu.
Vha ri, hwana o bebwaho
u ene na
milayo.
Inwi, hwana, no bebwaho
aIi
;honijheni
shangoni la
Mudzimu.
Vha ri, hulisa khotsi au na mine au.
Na inwi no
begwa
ndi
shangoni.
Ndi hone u
aJo
kona u lalama
shangoni.
Shangoni, shangoni la
Mudzimu.
Vha tshi dzhena mudini
27 -
Manners
Mudzimu o vhumba vhathu
shangoni
Jawe.
0 nakisa
shango.
Vha tshi dzhena
mudiini,
vha ri: "Hee ndaa!
"
Vha wa musadzi, vha ri: "Hee aa!"
Vharathu
vhanga,
no
vhetshelani
mulayo?
!,amusi
no
fhunguwa.
Ho dzhena Tshikhuwa.
You must have
self-respect
here
in the land of God.
They say,
a child is
expected
to be obedient.
You, child, are
expected
to have
self-respect
here in the land
of God.
They say, respect your
father
and mother.
You were born after me.
You will live
longer.
In the land, the land of God.
God created
people
on his earth.
He made a beautiful world.
When
people
enter home, they
should
greet politely
in our
customary way.
And women should
say:
"Good
day!"
My brothers, why
do
you
ignore
this custom?
Nowadays you
have no
respect.
You follow a Western
life-style.
The most
important organizing principles
in God's land related to the ethics
of
equality
and
interdependence.
These
concepts
were verbalized in a number
of interrelated
song expressions
of which the most
prominent
were "We shall
all live"
(Ri
khou tshila rojhe)
and "We are all the same"
(Ro;he
ri a
fanana):
Ri khou tshila rofhe
-
We shall all live
28
Nne na vhone, munwe na muhwe,
^ri khou tshila roihe:
Hu ri na mushai ro;he.
Hu ri na
mupfumi.
Hu ri na
bofu.
Hu ri na
dzingandevhe.
Hu ri na tshimuma.
Hu ri na
vhafunzi.
Hu ri na
a1aba(Iaba.
Me and
you,
all of us,
we shall all live:
The
poor.
The
wealthy.
The blind.
The deaf.
The dumb.
Church ministers.
Fools.
26
Ngulumbi,
7
September
1991.
27
Literally,
how to behave when
entering
a home.
Ngulumbi,
16 November 1991.
28
Song extract, Madamalala, 2 March 1991.
18
KRUGER Playing
performance
Rolhe
ri a
fanana
-
We are all the same29
Vho
pfuma
hani? How rich are
you?
Vho naka hani? How beautiful are
you?
Vho
vhifha
hani? How
ugly
are
you?
Vhahwe ndi
mpengo.
Some are mad.
Kana ndi
daba1aba
? Or are
they just
fools?
Ri khou
vaya
samu. We are
leaving together.30
Rolhe
ri
afanana!
We are all the same!
Ro
begwa rolhe nga
We all were
brought
Mudzimu washu. into this world
by
God.
Ndi khwine vha
mmbenge.
It is better to hate me for
saying
this.
Humbula vhakale vha nthuseni. Honour the ancestors so
that
they
can
help
us.
However, Mathase's
conceptualization
of
equality
did not
negate
status
differences, since as councillor
(mukoma)
in
charge
of a local subward he was
part
of the local
power
structure.31 He remarked that
people
should be free to
be
lawyers, magistrates
or traditional leaders but that
they
should not
ignore
shared
humanity
in
pursuit
of their
professional objectives.
All
hate, slander,
gossip,
discrimination
(especially nepotism)
and other forms of witchcraft were
forbidden in the land of God.
According
to
Mathase, poor people generally
engaged
in witchcraft because of
jealousy.
Witches were
"strange" people
who
did not conform to the norms of God's land
(see Figure 4, below). They
were
encouraged
to build a
country
without
jealousy
("Kha ri
fhale shango
hu si na
vhutshivha").
Selfish and individual desires should not undermine the
required
ordered framework of existence. As one musician
explained,
"'We shall all live'
means
you
cannot
always
have
your
own
way."
Although
the land of God was
conceptualized by
means of musical
thought
and
practice,
Mathase enacted its tenets in a number of non-musical contexts.
As I
explain below, his
promotion
of
friendship
and
support
was
particularly
evident in his
performances.
Suffice it here to add that this
philosophy
was also
29
Ngulumbi,
6 June 1992.
30
A reference to
joint travelling (usually
on foot or
by
minibus
taxi) by people living
in a
close-knit
community.
31
Mathase inherited this
unpaid position (jokingly
described
by
him as a
"half-chief')
from
his father, who never
explained
how their
non-ruling family
became
part
of the local
power
structure. The Mathase ward
comprised
about 50 families.
Amongst
other
things,
he had to
summon
people
for
meetings
at the headman's homestead and deal with issues such as marital
conflict, accusations of
witchcraft, and failure to
pay village
tax.
Although
Mathase had little
time for buffoons and could be
cutting
with his
tongue,
he also was
polite,
tactful and
intelligent
and
apparently enjoyed popular support
as ward head. Mathase never addressed his
status as ward head in his
song
texts and conversations, and it is unclear how it
may
have
affected his
self-image
and ambitions. However, it should be noted that traditional
leadership
became
increasingly
irrelevant to
many people
with the advent of
democracy (Kruger 1999a,
forthcoming).
19
evident in his
hospitality.
A
significant
number of his
performances
took
place
at his home. It is
customary
for visitors
(even
casual
ones)
in Venda commu-
nities to be offered refreshments.
Despite
Mathase's
poverty,
he
regularly
purchased
buckets of homemade beer when
people gathered
at his home for
music-making.
In addition, he often turned the arrival of visitors into short
musical dramas
by greeting
them
politely
in
song
at the entrance to his court-
yard
and
escorting
them in this fashion to their seats while
declaring
and
affirming
their
family
or
friendly
status.
The
concept
of
interdependence
also was enacted as a
by-product
of Mathase's
sacrificial rites. The
grave
of his father is situated about one hundred meters
from his homestead on ancestral land. Mathase land used to be much
bigger.
However, as the local
population increased, the
grave
became
part
of the maize
patch
of a
neighbour.
The site has no
grave stone, only
a
very
low cement wall
in
rectangular shape.
Mathase had
planted
a castor oil tree and
sugar
cane in
the
rectangle.
At the end of each month he
put
a few rand on the
grave by way
of sacrifice. This
money
was
accepted by
his father's
spirit,
and it
disappeared.
Mathase once found a coin and a few
eggs
on the
grave.
This he took to have
come from his father's
spirit.
He
put
the
money
under his
pillow
and
slept
on it
as a
way
of
promoting prosperity.
Musical
practice
in God's land
As indicated above, Mathase's mitambo
jiveni performances
were
part
of a
contemporary complex
of musical
styles accompanying
beer drink culture.
The main ritual
settings
of these
performances
were informal bars
(sosa,
tshipoto,
from
English "spot"), although
some
performances (usually
the less
raucous)
took
place
at the Mathase homestead
(Figure 3).
These bars are
part
of
private
houses whose owners sell homemade and bottled beer. The informal
beer trade is a basic mode of survival in
impoverished communities, especially
for women. Bar owners
encourage
musical
performances
in the
hope
of
luring
customers and
boosting
beer sales. The sound of weekend
singing
and drum-
ming
carries far in the
relatively quiet countryside, attracting passers-by.
Mathase's
regular presence
at the bar of Masindi Netshiavha in the
neighbour-
ing
Madamalala area
helped
to boost her
sales, allowing
her
eventually
to
buy
a
large gas fridge
to cool beer. She often told me that she was
very pleased
with the effect
music-making
had on her sales. On a number of
occasions,
late
on a
Saturday afternoon, she
dragged
Mathase back to her house for more
music-making
as he and I
attempted
to make our
way
home after
spending
a
few hours at her home.
Bars like those of Mrs Netshiavha functioned as sites of veiled
ideological
resistance
(Scott 1993),
since
they
were viewed as
places
of
debauchery by
the
very strong
local fundamentalist Christian
grouping.
The associations
they
had with drunkenness, violence, adultery
and
prostitution
made them ideal
marginal spaces,
the
possible
seditious functions of which could be
easily
dis-
avowed.
Although
the bars at which Mathase
performed
sometimes involved
drunkenness and
consequent physical squabbles,
in
my experience
this
type
of
Figure
3 Mathase in action at home in October 1991. Mother
behind,
brother Robert to
the
right.
behaviour never had
any
serious
consequences.
Mathase was
quite
careful in
his selection of
performance sites, ensuring
that he
always
visited bars of "old
people".
These were not
places frequented
so much
by
the
elderly
as
by people
of all
ages
who conformed to the time-honoured values of God's land. These
usually
were
unemployed
or worked as
low-paid
labourers in the civil service.
They
rolled their own
cigarettes
from
cheap
tobacco and
strips
of
newspaper,
could
only
afford "walkie talkie" meat
(chicken
heads and
feet)
and relied on
the
meagre yield
of the land and
borrowing
from one another to eke out an
existence.
They usually
had
only
a few
years
of
primary schooling
and were
semi-literate. A considerable number of
unemployed
men took on casual labour
when
possible.
Most such labour was in the form of house construction and the
annual
thatching
of roofs
prior
to the start of the
rainy
season. A few men
worked as
gardeners
for residents of
Thohoyandou.
Some of the
unemployed
men used to be
migrant
labourers. Some lost their
jobs,
while others found it
difficult to
cope
with urban life and decided to return home. Most of these
peo-
ple
did not like the
insecurity
of their existence.
They complained
about
being
idle and of not
knowing
where their next casual
employment
would come from.
Their worries and
hardships
were reflected in their
prematurely
wrinkled faces
and
rough
hands.
Mathase used the name
"Ngulumbi
Band" to describe all those who
per-
formed with him. Because he was a
roving
musician who
performed
at various
local bars, the
constituency
of
Ngulumbi
Band was
huge
and
constantly
shift-
21
ing
in accordance with the
performance
location. As I
explain below, this had
important consequences
in terms of the wider social
efficacy
of his music-
making.
But this
efficacy
also related to the fact that Mathase not
only
articu-
lated his
personal experiences
but also addressed communal concerns
(Kruger
1999/2000).
He was
quite
aware of his role as musical healer, and he affirmed
this in a number of
ways,
such as in his s
an
example:
Vhanwe vha khou takala.
Vhanwe vha khou tambula.
Vhanwe vha khou
shengela.
Vhanwe vha khou
swogola.
Hu
liwa
vhurotho vhu si na tie.
Hu nwiwa tie a i na vhurotho.
Vha
la
vhuswa a vhu na muroho.
A hu na batha, a hu na dzhamu.
A hu na na mini.
Vhanwe vha khou
pembela
dzofarwa nga ene, Razz Mathase,
henefha
ndi kha
lone bogisi
la poswo
ndi 2309 Radio
Thohoyandou.
Dzo farwa nga
ene S. T Solomon
Tshinetise Mathase
henengei
Ngulumbi, vhone muthetshelesi.
,ong texts, of which the
following
is
Some
people
are
happy
while others are
suffering.32
They
are in
despair.
They
are
struggling.
They
eat bread without tea.
They
drink tea without bread.
They
eat
porridge
without
vegetables.
There is no butter, there is no
jam.
There is
nothing.
But some
people
are
dancing
excitedly
because he, Razz Mathase,
is in
charge
of the Pick-a-box
Show on Radio
Thohoyandou.
Hey you listeners, it is he,
S.T. Solomon Tshinetise Mathase
from Ngulumbi.
Here Mathase assumes the
identity
of his cousin "Razz" Mathase
(whose
nick-
name
appropriately
derives from the term
"razzmatazz"),
who is a
popular
local
radio
personality.
Mathase is
comparing
the
professional
role of his cousin to
his own as healer, as one who entertains
people
and makes life more bearable
through
the razzmatazz of his musical
performances.
As
suggested above, however, Mathase's full
healing potential
was also
dependent
on the nature of his musical articulation. The musics of
supportive
communities such as
Ngulumbi
Band often are
shaped by egalitarian
ideals
(Feld 1984, Hansen 1981, Reily 1995, Roseman 1984,
Turino
1989).
The
structural
principles
of these musics include extensive
repetition
and the dense
layering
of individual
parts through techniques
such as
counterpoint
and
hocket.
Similarly,
the most basic structural
aspect
of Mathase's music was its
cyclic
call and
response
form. Call and
response singing
in Venda music takes
place
between a
song
leader
(musimi),
who
"plants"
a
song (from -sima,
to
plant),
and chorus
singers (vhabvumeli),
who
respond (from -bvumela,
lit.
thunderous
acknowledgement).
Musicians also
regularly
increase harmonic
density by adding
vocal lines above or below the call and
response pattern
(Blacking 1970).
32
Madamalala,
28
July
1990.
KRUGER Playing
The call and
response cycle
is
important
here in two
respects.
The first is
that the role of the
song
leader
usually
is concomitant with an elevated social
status. The second is that its effective
performance
is
dependent
on
group
involvement. Communal
participation
does not
only
allow musicians to
explore
shared
experiences,
it also
puts
a Durkheimian ritual
process
in motion which
produces
intensified emotions and moral
solidarity.
The creation of emotional
experiences
in musical ritual is related to the nature of certain musical struc-
tures and the cultural attributes of the voice. The
responsorial structuring
of
song
lines is an
aspect
of
daily responsorial
situations in which
people adapt
their
speech patterns
and
rhythms
to one another. Such
adaptations
are char-
acterized
by
the
synchronization
of
body
movements with
speech rhythms
(Collins 1988:201-3). Speakers
also
synchronize pitch register
and
range,
loudness, tempo,
and the duration of
syllables
-
the kind of
synchronization
that is also fundamental to successful musical
performance
and which
helps
to
create
highly
emotional conditions.
Although
neuroscience has revealed little
so far in terms of the brain's
perceptions
of the
voice, the tone
quality,
texture
and force of the voice are
regarded widely
as
affecting
the emotions
(Rousseau
2000).
As in other African communities
(Coplan 1988),
Venda culture
priori-
tizes sound over
sight
in cultural
experience
and accords
high
value to the
practical
and
magical qualities
of the voice. Chorus
singers
often are
urged
to
respond enthusiastically
in
performance,
thus
ensuring
a
dialogue
that
tempers
the
individuality
of the leader. In fact, the
singing
voice is
regarded
as so
central in the musical construction of Venda
society
that
any unexplained
weakening
is attributed to witchcraft.
Singers
are fond of
remarking
that their
voice is as effective as a
piercing
arrow
("Ipfi langa
Ji nga musevhe"),33
and
that it can entice lovers and
magically produce
babies for women
struggling
to
become mothers.
I now
give
a brief
description
of four of Mathase's
performances
to show
how he
applied
the
responsorial cyclic
structure of his music to enact some of
the tenets of God's land. I indicated above that content and form are
mutually
reinforcing
in some of Mathase's
performances,
and that therefore
they
should
be considered
interdependently.
On one such occasion Mathase and his elder
brother Robert
spontaneously
created the
following fascinating
musical call
and
response exchange (Figure 4):
34
(Call)
Vhana
aoroba
thina. The children of our
place.
(Response)
Vhana
atoroba
thina, The children of our
place
are
vha na
pemberera. dancing excitedly.
(Call)
Tambani zwakanaka. Dance well.
33
Unlike other
Bantu-speaking groupings
in South Africa, the Venda used the bow and arrow
in warfare.
34
Video
recording
made at the beer house of Masindi Netshiavha, Madamalala, 2 March
1991.
23
=
120
Vha-'nao-ro-ba
thi na. Vha na
pe
-
mbe- re
- ra.
? I ,
F response
.
,
(ka). Vha- na o-ro- ba thina.Vha na
pe
-
mbe- re - ra.
Guitar
(E)
? p
(A)
(strum)(I
'
~
I (.toend)
Vha-na pe-mbe
- re'. I vha ri tamba zwa-ka na
-
Vha- na
5oo-
ro- ba thina. Vha-na p)- mbe
- re - ra. Ta-mba zwa-ka
- na
(B) (E) (B)
Ta-mba- ni zwa- ka- naka. 'Si mba'i
- we.
ka. Ta-mba- ni zwa- ka- naka ma
-
si
-
mba'i- we.
(E) (A)
-
t~~~;t~
~ r
q
Si
-
mba'i-
we. I vha ri ta
- mba
zwa- ka
-
na'
.
Ta-mba-ni zwa-ka-naka ma -
si
-
mba'i-we. Ta - mba zwa
-
ka
-
na -
(B) (E) (B)
-:~? ~'
~
r i?_1 ' 5'~'
M
r
I
i
Ngu-we ngu-we 'tha-kha-ti ka lo -
ya. Ngu- we ngu-
we 'tha - kha- ti ka lo
-
ya.
(E)
'Tha
kha-
ti ka
lo-ya.
'Tba-kha-ti ka io-ya.
(A) (E)
(Dal
segno)
Ngu-we ngu-we 'tha-kha-ti ka lo'. I vha ri ta-mba zwa-kana'.
:W
-
71
IA ~~ ~ t - ?-~-~:!
(E)
Figure
4 Vhana
?ioroba
thina
'Tha
-
kha
- ti ka lo'.
(A)
Ta-mba zwa-ka - na -
(E) (B)
KRUGER Playing
performance
(Response)
Tambani zwakanaka masimbana, iwe! Dance well, you
with the
skin clothes!
(Call)
Nguwe, nguwe!
It is
you,
it is
you!
(Response)
Muthakhati ka
loya.
One who bewitches.
(Both singers)
Vhana vha
Vhanyai.
Children of Zimbabwe.
The
message
of this
song
is that
people
should
cooperate
in their
daily life;
dance is a
metaphor
for social
cooperation. Thus, the
song discourages
witches
(identified by
their skin
clothes)
from
engaging
in their anti-social behaviour.
However, it also has a
deeper meaning
that relates to Mathase
ancestry.
The
song
is an
adaptation
of one that Mathase heard on Radio Zimbabwe. Its
per-
formance stimulates memories of clan
identity
for Mathase, since his
family
belongs
to the
Nyai clan, which is of Zimbabwean
origin (see
last
song line).
When the two brothers
performed
this
song, they
did so as
siblings
who
had shared a troubled
family history.
Robert Mathase lived near Solomon and
he was a labourer in the
Department
of Public Works. His
struggle
to survive
was not facilitated
by
his
complex, enigmatic personality,
which
displayed
diverse
qualities
ranging
from harshness to love. He
usually spoke little, but
because he could be
emotionally
and
materially demanding,
Mathase was
very
critical of him.
This
song
was one of the brothers' favourites.
They regarded
it as a form of
religious expression through
which
they
honoured their ancestors
(especially
their
father)
and
promoted
ancestral
morality. However, the mode of
expression
the brothers used in their
singing
also
helped
to counteract the conflicts of their
relationship. They
sat
facing
each other
closely
in
performance,
with Solomon
leading
the
song
and Robert
responding.
Both
singers
moved their heads and
torsos on the beat. As the
song progressed, they
moved closer, singing directly
into each other's faces.
They pouted
their
lips,
raised their
eyebrows
and
opened
their
eyes
wide at each other when
singing
their
respective parts,
and
shook their heads
rhythmically together.
Mathase lifted his
strumming
hand
at times to
point rhythmically
at his brother. These
performance practices
did
not
only help
to foster an awareness of shared
lineage; cyclic
call and
response
patterns generally
"articulate
cooperative
behaviour and aesthetic structure,
forging
coherences across
multiple
levels of musical and social
organisation"
(Blacking 1971:104).
A related kind of
relationship
between content and its
personal
articu-
lation was evident in a
performance
of one of Mathase's most
popular songs,
"A
poverty-stricken
man"
(Nwana
wa
vhathu).
This
song
deals with an
experience
that one of Mathase's friends, Ntshavheni
Thovhogi,
had in the
urban
setting.
Like Mathase, Thovhogi
was a
migrant
labourer who worked in
25
Johannesburg.
The
song
describes how
Thovhogi's girlfriend accepted money
from him and then cheated him with another man:
35
Ngoho,
ha na na tshithu.
Na vhurukhu a vhuho.
Na badzhi a i ho.
Na tshienda a tshiho.
Na watshi a i ho.
Na tshelede a i ho.
0
liwa ngaJhi?
0
liwa
Soweto.
Na musadzi haho.
Tsere-tsere ndi
ya
mini
ngomu
nduni?
Vhudzisani ngoho
kha vhane vha
mudi.
Vha do amba
ngoho.
He
really
has
nothing.
No trousers.
No
jacket.
No shoes.
No watch.
No
money.
Where did he
spend
all his
money?
He
spent everything
in Soweto.
No
girlfriend.
What is that
shuffling
noise
inside the house?36
Ask the residents.
They
will tell
you.
Thus, Mathase not
only empathized
with the
jilted
lover but also, implicitly,
with all
migrant
labourers who had
experienced
financial difficulties and lone-
liness in town. Most
importantly, however, the
song
had
particularly powerful
meaning
for
Thovhogi,
who
happened
to be
present
at the time, and
promptly
participated
in its
performance
as the centre of attraction. He not
only produced
a counter-tenor line of vocables that hovered
clearly
over the
singing
of Mathase
and other musicians, but also
performed
a
loose-hipped
solo dance in the centre
of the ritual arena to enthusiastic shouts from
bystanders.
The
remaining
two
examples
consider more
specifically
the status reversal
experienced by
Mathase in ritual
performance.
I
suggest
that Mathase's life
process
took on characteristics of Goffman's familiar theatrical social model
(Goffmann 1971, see DaMatta 1984)
to illustrate how ritual
power
in his
"backstage" performances provided
him with the self-esteem needed to coun-
teract his
emotionally debilitating professional
and financial status. In terms of
this model, people
assume different identities and
perform
concomitant roles
depending
on the social situation in which
they
find themselves. Mathase was
a labourer who found himself in a low
position
in the
professional
and socio-
economic
hierarchy.
Like
guitarist
Albert Mundalamo, he
experienced
his work
as
alienating mberego.
He had low
professional
self-esteem and
complained
constantly
of bad
pay
and lack of
promotion.
He was
upset
about a man who
had been his subordinate when he was section head at the
processed
meat
factory
in
Johannesburg
where he worked. This
person
was
appointed
at the
University
of Venda at the same time that he was but in a
higher position.
Mathase
complained
that he had "come down" in
life,
while the other
person,
who
initially
had a lower
position,
had
surpassed
him in
professional
status.
He also
complained
of
employees
who were
appointed
several
years
after him.
35
Song
extract. Video
recording, Ngulumbi,
25
May
1991.
36
Referring
to the not so
private
sexual liaison between
Thovhogi's girlfriend
and her lover.
KRUGER Playing
They
were on the same
professional
level as he was but
they
received
higher
salaries. This led him to
present
himself at work as a
deferential, unassuming
man in old
working
clothes who went about
carrying
cement
buckets, digging
trenches, following orders, and,
when
possible, escaping
round the back of his
workshop
to
sleep
in the sun. Thus, his
professional
role was
largely experi-
enced as external to a
meaningful
social existence. It took on the
quality
of
Goffman's
"working consensus", in terms of which
people
enmeshed in
asym-
metrical
power
relations have little
option
but to
suppress
their ambitions to
avoid "an
open
conflict of definitions"
(Goffman 1971:8-9).
His
professional
tactics took the form of
disguise
and
deception,
while he maintained an out-
ward
impression
of
willing
consent
(Scott 1993:17).
In contrast, it is in the home
sphere
that the dominated and destitute often
become human
(DaMatta 1984).
Mathase's home environment was the arena of
mitambo
jiveni,
of social interaction that awarded him the
power
to control
decision-making
in his
capacity
as
expert
musician and ritual leader. As I
explain
elsewhere
(Kruger 1999/2000),
Mathase had a
special ability
to attract
an audience when he
performed
at beer drinks. He dressed
neatly
on such occa-
sions, sometimes
wearing
a
brightly
coloured shirt with the name
Ngulumbi
Band embroidered on the back. His lean frame belied the assertiveness and
energy
he
possessed.
He sometimes
sang
for several hours almost without
stop-
ping.
His voice often became hoarse from too much
singing
with a
group
of
rowdy
drinkers.
I often observed raucous but
good-natured
battles between Mathase and
older women who wanted to
perform
traditional beer
songs (malende),
or
other
guitarists
who wanted to
play
their own
songs.
Mathase
deliberately
ignored
them
by playing
and
singing
louder than
they did, thus
forcing
them
into submission.
They usually
admitted defeat
laughingly
and
joined
in his
performance. Indeed, Mathase has a remarkable
ability
to take control in
performance settings.
This he
put
to
particularly
effective use in the call and
response
form of his
songs,
as in his
performances
of the well-known
song
"The whistle is
blowing".37
This is a
very popular drinking song, thought orig-
inally
to have been
performed
at
weddings (Figure 5):
(Call)
Tshiliriri
tsho lila. The whistle is
blowing.
(Response)
Tsho lilela Selinah. It is
blowing
for Selinah.
(Call)
Ho saina
mama/papa.
It is a
sign mama/papa.
(Response)
Saina, saina, saina. A
sign,
a
sign,
a
sign.
(Call)
Mukusule ndi mini? What are dried
vegetables?
37
Video
recording
made at Mathase's
house,
Ngulumbi,
25
May
1991.
27
BRITISH JOURNAL OF ETHNOMUSICOLOGY VOL.10/i 2001
= 120
(call) (response)
1 Tshi
-
ti - ri - ri tsho li -
la._ Tsho li
-
le- la Se
-
li- nah._
(verse) 2 Mu- ku- su
- le ndi mi -
ni?_ Ndi ,nama
ya
Vha- ve nda._
3 Tshi
-
di- me - la ndi mi - ni?_ Ndi tsi
-
mbi dza ma
-
khu wa._
sGuitar
(E) to end) (B)
chord
replaced
(strum) (B) by E as described)
(call) (response)
(refrain) Ho sai
- na ma
- ma. Sai
-
na sai na sai na.
(E) (A) (B) (E)
Figure
5 Tshitiriri
(Response)
Ndi nama
ya
Vhavenda.
They
are the favourite Venda food.
(Call)
Tshidimela ndi mini? What is a train?
(Response)
Ndi tsimbi dza makhuwa. It is the iron machine of white
people.
This
song
refers to Venda
migrant
labourers who
marry girls
from other ethnic
groups.
A
marriage
contract is
signed
because such a
marriage
is
regarded
as
risky.
As the train takes the
couple
back to Venda from an urban
area,
the
husband informs his wife about the food
preferences
of his
people.
The sound
of the whistle indicates the
departure
of the train as well as the start of the
wedding ceremony.
During
one
performance
of this
song
Mathase remained at line five
("What
are dried
vegetables?"), repeating
it several
times,
while the other
singers
answered with the standard
response, "They
are the favourite Venda food".
Furthermore,
Mathase introduced a tonic ostinato on the
guitar
that clashed
briefly
with the dominant chord at the end of the
response pattern.
This clash
was
engineered deliberately.
It seemed as if Mathase was
balancing
the chorus
singers precariously
on a musical
precipice, halting
movement
by creating
tension between the
unchanging
chord on the
guitar
and the vocal
harmony.
It was a moment of
tense, risky
control that became the seed of exuberant
new life. Without
warning
Mathase
suddenly
went on to the next solo
line,
"What is a train?" The
group,
so conditioned
by now,
continued to
sing
the
same
response
as before. There was
uncertainty among
them for a
fleeting
moment,
followed
by
embarrassed
laughter
and shouts of
pleasure
when
they
realized
they
had been
manipulated.
Even I could not
escape
Mathase's ritual control.
During
a beer drink38 at
38 On 10
August
1991.
28
KRUGER Playing
performance
Guitar
basic
pattern
=78
Ma-si-ndi o fa-rwa. A si- a ma- bu-ndu na
Ra-
ma na halwa.
0 lila a
4i-phi-na
mu-la-ni
wa-we mu-a-ni wa-we mu-,a-ni wa-we
[ri
?,?7
1
I -0
[
Figure
6 Masindi o farwa
his home he
performed
a
song describing
the arrest in 1968
Masindi for the illicit
brewing
of beer
(Figure 6):
of his sister
Masindi o
farwa.
A sia mabundu
na nama
na halwa!
0 lila a
diphi~na mulani
wawe.
Masindi was arrested.
She left
light
beer
and meat
and
strong
beer!
She cried
bitterly
at home.
At one
point
in the
performance
I remained the
only person singing
with
Mathase. We
sang up
to the end of the fourth line
("and strong beer") during
one of the
repetitions.
I went on to the last line
("she
cried
bitterly"). However,
Mathase
deliberately
went back to the first line of the
song, causing
me to
falter. I looked at him, realizing
that he had
toyed
with me and lured me into
one of his aesthetic
traps.
I could not
help
but
laugh
in
surprise,
and he chuck-
led in
response
as I
experienced
a
surge
of
joy
and
congenial
warmth.
Conclusion
This discussion shows that the effectiveness of musical ritual
depends
as much
on social context and human
agency
as on the nature of its
symbols (Blacking
1985b:64).
The narrative of Solomon Mathase's life relates the
experiences
of
a rural cattleherd who was born in an era of social transition. Forced to become
a manual labourer,
he has
struggled
to assert himself
effectively
and cultivate a
positive self-concept
in an
increasingly stratified, industrializing
world. He
often
expressed
frustration at his lack of access to
tangible
structures of wealth
and
power, remarking
that he would
always
be
poor.
Yet he
consciously
managed
to achieve a different kind of social control
by channelling
aesthetic
potency through
the
manipulation
of
empowering
musical
signs
and
techniques
(Masquelier 1993:4).
29
v,t[)
~~~~ P~~
77
30
Mathase's creative, intensified treatment of the
cyclical responsorial
form
magnified
its inherent
captivating socializing power.
The absence of extensive
musical
development
in forms of African music is not indicative of a lack of
creative skill and structural
complexity.
The actions of African musicians are
informed
by
musical as well as ethical
imperatives. They
extend from
perform-
ance to social
setting through
a
process
that involves
people
in shared
experi-
ences within the framework of their cultural
experience (Blacking 1976:48).
Consequently
we can evaluate musical forms
accurately only
if we understand
how
they
achieve their intended social effects
(Chemoff 1979:30).
Musical forms
that
require
interaction for their articulation are
expressions
of basic socio-
political relationships
that allow
people
to be accorded and
experience personal
power through shared, culturally prescribed
action
(Blacking 1985b:66).
Power
can be exercised
creatively
and
productively
and so is not
inherently negative.
Mathase did not
transgress
the traditional
egalitarian
norms
controlling
individ-
ual action. "Power is
always
and
only
known in its effects: it is the full
poten-
tial of what a
person
can do or
be, and from an African
perspective,
someone
who 'has'
power
is someone who is
capable
of
directing
his
energies
with a
sense of
purpose" (Chemoff 1979:170).
Ritual orchestration created a
position
of
benign power
for Mathase within a context of acute
interpersonal
conscious-
ness. The verbal and musical
expressions
of his
performances were, therefore,
not
only
conventional semantic
signifiers; they
were also
indexically
related to
the ritual reversal of his subordinate social status
(Tambiah 1985:156),
a reversal
that
provided
him with a source of
pride,
self-confidence and a
greater
sense of
his
capabilities (Collins 1988:192, 211).
Once, during
a
particularly
hectic
part
of an afternoon's
music-making
and
revelry
with
Ngulumbi Band,
he remarked, "My
house is not
beautiful,
but
my
father
[i.e.
his
spirit]
comes to visit"; on another occasion he
said,
"I am
poor,
but
many people
love me". Thus, musical
performance
for Mathase took the
form of a "resistant subculture of
dignity" (Scott 1993:200).
What he lacked
in terms of desired material wealth and
professional
status he made
up
for
through
the self-enhancement and emotional
energy generated by
the socializ-
ing
function of
music-making.
Ritual control and status therefore
may
seem to
contradict Mathase's
perceptions
of
powerlessness. However,
his
power
was
not
only
restricted
mainly
to a
symbolic backstage,
but social control also is
not inimical to doubt. Mathase's
negative self-perception
was rooted
firmly
in
his awareness of the limitations his
incomplete schooling
had
placed
on his
ambitions,
and he had as a result
developed deep-seated misgivings
about his
ability
to extricate himself from his
poverty
and
professional
subordination.
The
description
of
personal history
as encoded in
symbolic
forms
begs
the
question
whether ritual transformation "exists
solely
within the moment of the
performance
and its
apprehension by
the
audience,
or whether it transcends the
limits of this moment and thus has an
impact
on the broader social existence of
both
performer
and audience"
(James 1999:98,
Scott
1993).
The social
impact
of Mathase's
music-making
not
only
was rooted in his technical
manipulation
of music and
speech
but also in his
ability
to
identify
communal
psychological
undercurrents and their manifestation in
daily
life. His
religiously
sanctioned
KRUGER Playing
in the land of God: musical performance and social resistance in South Africa
moral code was a "consciousness of
history" (Comaroff
and Comaroff
1987:192),
while its musical enactment constituted a
"cognitive
source of the African
struggle
for self-determination in South Africa"
(Coplan 1987a:431)
that aimed
at
dramatizing community concerns, affecting popular consciousness,
and
promoting
a clear communal
ideology
and
identity:
"Music has no effect on the
body
or
consequences
for social action, unless its sounds and circumstance can
be related to a coherent set of ideas about self and other and
bodily feelings"
(Blacking 1985b:65).
Lukoto
(1992:25) accordingly
remarks in her
study
of
the class of
expert
musician to which Mathase
belongs
that
they
"have an
important
task in
society. Through [their] songs
we are able to see ourselves,
understand our values and beliefs, and how we should behave"
(see Kruger
1999/2000).
Furthermore, performance
does not
only predicate
the structure of an ideal
society;
it also articulates its
intensely experienced
emotional vicissitudes
(Waterman 1990:220). Feelings
of fatalism which alternate with
vitality
and
apparent optimism
were not restricted to
Mathase; they permeated
the conscious-
ness of
Ngulumbi
Band. Thus Mathase's
song-line
"Ri a takala, ri a tambula"
(We
are
happy,
we are
suffering)
was reflected in the remark
by young
fellow
musician Mbuiseni
Netshiavha,
who was
unemployed
and had no laces for his
shoes, that
"People
are
suffering,
but no
problem".
In other words, there were
phases
of
happiness among
those
sitting
in the
shade, singing
and
drinking
beer. At times like
these, performances by Ngulumbi
Band articulated the
dynamic, hopeful
nature of humans
oppressed by
their environment. Their lust
for life was
expressed
in the exuberant exclamations of
singers,
the
laughing
of
bright-eyed dancers,
and the almost
symphonic expression
in
song
of shared
experiences.
For
Mathase, as for
many
members of
Ngulumbi Band, one of
the few sites of relative
certainty, therefore, was musical
performance,
while
the ultimate secure destination was identified as "six feet down" or in heaven.
"We are
going
home to Jerusalem"
(Ri
a
hayani Jerusalem)
is one of the most
popular
Venda church
hymns.
Its
regular performance by Ngulumbi
Band was
indicative of the
appeal
of its
eschatological message
in a culture of
poverty.
Yet its musical
expression
also took the form of "a celebration of collective
courage" (Coplan 1987a:417),
which denied
despair
and revealed the exercis-
ing
of
power by
its
performers
for whom control was embedded in their
ability
to
support
contradictions
(Becker 1972:177).
The
performances
of
Ngulumbi
Band, therefore, functioned as an emotional
response
to subordination and
poverty. However, the release of emotional
energy
is but one of several ritual
functions,
and it is not the
only
form of resistance to domination.
Moreover,
catharsis cannot be said to
substantially
ameliorate emotional turbulence.
Nevertheless,
it is an
important
conduit of
temporary
emotional relief induced
by company, music-making,
food and drink
(Scott 1993:186-7).
African musical culture thus continues to
play
its historical role as a crucial
medium of
symbolic
transaction and an aesthetic means of
construing
and
defending
subaltern communities in the face of
pervasive political
and economic
change (Waterman 1990:8).
Mathase's rituals had
powerful personal objectives,
but their fulfilment was
dependent
on the
capacity
of musical
performance
to
31
32
"provide
images
for the
reshaping
and
reordering
of cultural
categories
under-
lying
the
organisation
of networks and communities"
(Coplan 1985:243).
The
moral constitution of
Ngulumbi
Band was articulated
by
means of God's land,
an autonomous
cognitive system
that reinvented the
precolonial
moral universe
creatively
and
objectified
it
syncretically
with Christian ethics in the form of
a discourse about
power
based on norms of
solidarity
and mutual
obligations.
The
efficacy
of God's land derived
partly
from its form as a
"multiple dialogue",
which
integrated
an extensive continuum of beliefs and
experiences
into a
single
ritual
category (Coplan 1987a).
Its
powerful
moral
imperatives provided
"a means of
orchestrating
ritual enactment in such a
way
as to allow
participants
to
proclaim
their
religious
truths at the same time as their coordinated inter-
actions
during
music
making re-create[d]
the social ideals embodied in their
religious
tenets"
(Reily
in
press: 3).
The ritual enactment of God's land was, thus, analogous,
if not
structurally
and
functionally similar, to African rituals of
healing
that
promote
the
repro-
duction of social health
by organizing
a
supportive
social network on a
religious,
moral foundation
(Janzen 1992, Kruger 1996).39 Many
secular musical
perform-
ances in Africa
may
be viewed as
implicit
rituals of
healing
in the sense that
they
are interactive, therapeutic
and cathartic and involve the
metaphoric reworking
of social affliction on a
religious
basis
(Janzen 2000:55-7).
These rituals do not
have to be
overtly
sacred to assume a
religious
character. Musicians
may
become
"'possessed'
by
the music and dance and be
profoundly
conscious of the
spiri-
tual nature of the universe"
(Blacking 1985b:69). Similarly,
John Janzen notes
that African rituals of
healing
are
predicated
less on the
explicit
manifestation of
spiritual
forces in states of
possession
than on a
spiritual presence
in a
gathered
community
of fellow sufferers who
identify
circumstances of shared
agony
and
express
solace
by
means of
spoken
and
sung
call and
response patterns (Janzen
2001:54-5).
God's land was a
clearly
delineated
ideological stance, yet
its
transposition
to arenas outside the ritual
setting
was manifested
opaquely.
Mathase's
per-
formances were not
intentionally
constructed as
disguised
forms of
political
resistance (Scott 1993).
In
fact, as I
explain
elsewhere
(1999/2000),
such
per-
formances have been
historically
a
part
of Venda institutional
politics,
but
increasingly they
have taken on the form of veiled
protest against
the
political
and economic
changes
that
accompanied
colonization. Social
identity
and
meaning
for
Ngulumbi
Band
prior
to the first South African democratic elec-
tions in 1994 were not construed in terms of the
myths
of national
unity
but in
the form of one of a "million mutinies"
(Naipaul 1990) against ambiguous
political
and
plutocratic
rule. Unable to
effectively explore
social alternatives in
formal national
political
and economic
spheres,
African subaltern communities
at times have
only symbolic
action available for the
peaceful
transformation of
their lives
(Blacking 1981,
Driver
1991).
Thus the
daily
business of their lives
39
The verbal articulation of God's land is similar to the identification of a
spiritual
force in
a
patient
while its enactment
may
be
regarded
as
correlating
with the "pacification" of the
spirit by
means of
song
and dance
(Janzen 2000:59).
KRUGER Playing
performance
is conducted in "bars, beer
joints, shrines, sanctuaries, and in the
gatherings
of
prophets, sorcerers, evangelists,
and healers"
(Simone 1991:4).
Mathase's
performances
in
particular
were
settings
for the horizontal
forging
of alliances. These alliances
expressed
a vibrant oral
counterideology
to the
suffering
of the
poor
in the maw of
greed
and selfishness. God's land
helped
them to
organize
and
express
their
thoughts
on their
poverty
and
subaltern status and to think
through
and
speculate
on creative solutions to
their
problems. Accordingly,
Mathase's "Vhana
doroba thina" (above)
must
have had an
impact
on the consciousness and emotions of
many
as it followed
its
presumably
circuitous oral route to its
recording by popular
local
singer
Irene Mawela and
subsequent
broadcast on local radio.40 Thus, there is
good
reason to
suggest
that God's land
similarly
contributed to the creation of an
ideological
framework for
political change.
It
certainly
was one local form of
ideological
resistance to
corrupt political rule, as
many messages
of similar
content reverberated in
regional
consciousness and forms of
public protest
leading
to the
military coup
of 1990
(Kruger 1999a, forthcoming).
The
gather-
ings
of
Ngulumbi
Band thus allowed musicians to
sing
their world into
existence
(Chatwin 1987).
The
power
and effect of their
music-making
was
rooted in the social
implementation
of its structural
properties.
The
seemingly
playful
use of musical
thought
and
practice
activated and
organized
human
energy
in the creation of local forms of cultural and social consciousness that
revealed a
capacity
to transcend their creative
settings
to affect broader
processes
of social transformation.
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Note on the author
Jaco
Kruger
holds a Ph.D.
(1993)
from Rhodes
University.
He has been
researching
Venda music since 1983, taking particular
interest in
processes
of
change.
Jaco is
currently
Lecturer in
Ethnomusicology,
Music Education and
Popular
Music at Potchefstroom
University,
South Africa. Address: Music
Section, Potchefstroom
University,
Potchefstroom 2531, South Africa;
e-mail:
musjhk@puknet.puk.ac.za.

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