a review

ALBUM REVIEW

Album: Mapulaneng Volume II
Artist: Masta H
Produced by: 10workers Media
Reviewer: Mphutlane wa Bofelo

MAPULANENG: REASSERTING THE VOICE OF A PEOPLE

Sepulana is one of the marginalised languages of South Africa, and is hardly recognized as a language on its own. Some perceive Sepulana to be but a dialect of Sepedi and others confuse Mapulana with VhaTsonga and Amaswati – much to the chagrin of the Sepulana speaking people.

This alone makes Bushbuckridge’s emcee and hip-hop artist Masta H – real name, McDonald Hlompho Lekhuleni – a significant voice on the Azanian Hip-Hop scene. Literary, musical and theatrical works have the extraordinary capacity to recapture, reclaim and retain the beauty of a language. In his second mixtape - “Mapulaneng”, Masta H gives musical tapestry to the resilient voice of a linguistic group that has survived decades of ignorance by historians, anthropologists, sociolinguists, ethnographers and the political establishment.

He assumes the mantle of an urban griot; asserting the linguistic identity of Mapulana and defending them against the de-historicisation project: “Mapulaneng naga ye kgolo \ re nale history ga Moholoholo”. At the same time Mapulaneng Volume II presents the individual tone of an artist hungry for a platform to express himself and also make a living in an industry in which it takes double effort for artists not based in the major cities to prevail.

While asserting that he is not defined by material things, the artist unashamedly express his dream for his craft to put bread on the table: “ke kgale ke hlopega\ I am not going back kgale ke nwa metji \ mphe ice-cream ke leke \ go hlophega go a baba”. He takes a jibe at the hypocritical charlatan political elite and corporate vampire prescribing austerity for masses but opulence, gluttony and delicacies for themselves: “Judas o lemenene \ re phela ka merogo \ o ja dikhekhenene.” The Judas of this song can as well as be the showbiz tycoons; middle men and middle women making riches out of the work of artists while artists live in poverty and die as paupers.

Masta H is definitely disinterested in countless microphone checks not followed by any paycheque: “ Ke nyaka cheleta \ I am no longer rhyming for free .” However, Masta H, material poverty and there need to survive is no excuse for artistic poverty in the form of mediocre lyrical and technical or aesthetic quality of the music, deriding old school dompass emcees who can only offer works with the quality of RDP pondokie houses when H request a mansion of words. The artist is not unassuming about the quality of his work or his skill when tested against the lyrical talent of his peers:’ Ke rhymer ka thlago \ style sa ka se blind go feta sa gago”

A significant aspect about this album is the variety of themes; from a celebration of Sepulana to the celebration of true love, a tribute to a beloved mother and a commentary on the growing number of the immigrant population in Mpumalanga – involved in both legit and illicit business and other activities and the best way of treating them: “ Re ba tshwere gabutji \ a gona xenophobia”

These themes are explored in a colloquial language and everyday street lingo that every Thabo and Sellwane can understand and identify with. The danger of asserting a linguistic identity and using everyday language without some kind of mediation and de-construction as an artist is that your voice might get embellished in some of its prejudices and contrarieties. For an example, while claiming there is zero xenophobia in Mapulaneng, H uses the derogatory word, Lekula (Coolie) to refer to a person of Asian origin. But in the main, Mapulaneng is a beautifully crafted work from a young man whose work oozes passion and hunger to live life to the fullest.

Other voices from Bushbuckridge featured in this CD express a passionate desire to live and to be heard. It is a pleasure to hear one of the most seasoned cultural workers from Mpumalanga, Gakwi Mashego (also known as Goodenough) spit a verse on It's a Killing. (I have been telling this Black Man for every long time that he MUST record a CD of his work; his is an amazing and original voice in a scene that is full of mimics.)
My favorate track in the album is Kosha ya Mshado, a polyrhythmic number that has me, my six-year old son – who sometimes accompany me with wicked beat boxing when I read my poetry at home , and my wife; who is not easily impressed, on the dance-floor, singing along -though we miss some parts (we are Sesotho and Setswana speakers) each time it plays.



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Escaping Trauma in a World that Encourages Confrontation - Sabata-Mpho Mokae

There’s nothing as intriguing, fulfilling and inspiring as reading work from an author you respect, like and who you can count amongst your friends and colleagues. I know in the so-called mainstream media it will be called a conflict of interest for me to voice objective opinions about Escaping Trauma, a poetry book by award-winning author Sabata-Mpho Mokae.

Ja, you are smarter than you thought; Sabata-Mpho comes from that dynasty of intellectual and souljahs of the arts. I don’t know if he’ll be impressed with me mentioning it but this family deserves a whole town named after it – and not Taung.

Okay; enough of hero-worshipping the living. Sabata is a journalist who has written extensively on various issues relating to literature. He is to literature what my brother Bongani Madondo is to everything ‘cultural’. Sabata has reviewed more books and spoken to authors, librarians, publishers and everyone on that value chain than any other Black journalist I know today. Barry Ronge has reviewed more films than anyone and Sabata is getting there with books. I think being based in Kimberley is useful because one can’t unconsciously fall into that Joburg trap of thinking you are a celebrity journalist and suddenly making news instead of writing them.

The one other person i know who has read as many books, maybe 30 times more across genres must be youthful Malaika wa Azania and artist Tshwarelo Mogakane. Interesting enough all these people I am mentioning have become intellectuals in their own right, commanding respect amongst those who know the difference between Homer and Shakespeare.

Sabata’s Escaping Trauma is made up of poetry spanning ten years and capturing various epochs of his interpretation of life in this vast pot-pouri country. You pick that immediately when he tells you, “those with beautiful hands/ do not die/ when they die/ works of their hands/ do not follow”; in his tribute to the late genius pianist Moses Taiwa Molelekwa – moses (molelekwa) did not die.

Molelekwa was of Sabata’s generation and they say no social mishap is scarier at reminding one that they will die like seeing your peers kaput infront of your eyes. He probably is of my generation as well as I also wrote in The Didn’t Die In Vain, “moses taiwa molelekwa genius fingers caressing keys/ give me that tune once again i’m in a mood for sexing”.

If I am not overstepping my license I think even a poet as youthful as Matete Motsoaledi and poet Ezrom Maromo Sekgobela have written something for Molelekwa. Fine, this post is about the poetry of Sabata and not disciples of Molelekwa.

Mokae’s appreciation for music is reflected through some of his works. The last time I had a one-on-one with him was during the Polokwane Literary Festival where as a connoisseur of words he travelled all the way from the Northern Cape to break bread with his brethrens and launch his novel Ha se nna Modisa (I’m not my Brother’s Keeper).
In my other incarnation I work closely with his cousin, literary giant and filmmaker Dr Gomolemo Mokae and I say without fear of contradiction that Sabata might have written a lot for his short space of existence, but in many’s opinion his time is still in the horizon. He is still an unpolished diamond that is recognisable to those who have seen the gem in its rough state. Those used to the glitz must wait for some time before they finally find themselves failing to resist this writer. And you know what they say about diamonds?

Escaping Trauma is a beautiful artwork with lots of dishes for all consumers of poetry. The poet is not trying to be something he isn’t. The collection is a mirror of the person. And if you have a comprehension of artistic aesthetic, rest assured this is a book for your summer jol and beyond.
This collection of 50 peoms should be available at bookstores that know what literature is. If it’s not there tell them to order it for you. Or alternatively find Sabata-Mpho Mokae on Facebook and discuss your frustrations with him.

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