The Bongo Beat

African drummer embraces music to overcome prejudice

By Michael Whiteman-Jones

It’s a warm, sunny day and I’m sitting on a worn wooden bench on the Pearl Street Mall discussing music, art and politics with Bongo Love and his cousin, Munya, who form the core of the Boulder-based band Zula Zula. To passersby, we must look odd together. I am a middle-aged white American and I’m balancing a reporter’s notepad on my knee. They are young and black—sporting dreadlocks—and were born and raised in the Republic of Zimbabwe, a politically troubled tropical region that sits just above the northern tip of South Africa.

Could we be any more different? I’m silently wondering while Bongo talks. His English is nearly flawless, although I have to lean forward and concentrate because he’s soft-spoken and the thick accent of his native language, Shona, sometimes trips me up. I’m taking notes, but I’m worried that we’re not connecting, that I seem silly. And then something unexpected happens.

Bongo's music is a lively fusion of African sounds with reggae and jazz.

We’re talking about Bongo’s musical background when he asks me a riddle: What type of American music is most influential in Africa? Is it rap? I ask. No. Hip-hop? No. Rock ‘n’ roll? No. It’s classic country from the ‘60s, ‘70s and ‘80s, he says—old-timers like Dolly Parton, Don Williams and Johnny Cash. Now I’m stunned. I grew up listening to country’s greats, but I rarely meet anyone who knows anything about the golden age of country music, let alone likes it. But here I am hangin’ with two guys from a village in Africa who actually know who Merle Haggard is.

And suddenly we’re laughing out loud together—a journalist bonding over old-school country music with Bongo the outspoken African drummer/vocalist/frontman and Munya, his quieter bass-playing cousin. Do you really know Don Williams, a country music songwriter’s songwriter? I ask. Yes, they do. Remember Dolly Parton’s hits Islands in the Stream and Jolene? Munya inquires. And yes, I do, too.

“Country music is very big in Africa,” Bongo says, smiling. “We had a country channel on the radio. This is how we learned to speak English.”

‘Politricks’

Bongo was born in Zimbabwe at the height of severe drought in 1972, and was named Pasipaoma Matanda Ukapisa Anotva, which translated into English means “The land is too dry. The logs will catch on fire.” Munya’s full name is Munyaradzi Chakabveyo, which also has a special meaning, “the peacemaker.” He was born in 1982, just two years after Zimbabwe officially won its independence from England, and the same year that the country’s president, Robert Mugabe, took full control of Zimbabwe.

Politics plays a turbulent role in Bongo’s life, and sadness creases his eyes when he talks about the rampant inflation, crushing poverty and seemingly endless strife in his homeland. But as the frontman for Zula Zula, he prefers to focus on music and art rather than politics—which he calls “politricks”—because he believes they trump prejudice and conflict. “Music makes us free—it frees our souls and makes us happy,” Bongo says.

If You Like to Move ...

Zula Zula’s music successfully fuses African sounds with reggae and jazz. It’s lively, drum-driven music with Caribbean undertones, and it quickly brings a crowd to its feet. The band often performs locally at Boulder’s Redfish New Orleans Brewhouse or the Trilogy Wine Bar, and it has also opened for national acts at more prominent venues like the Boulder Theater and the Fox. “They’re a high-energy band, and they have a strong following,” Redfish owner Steve Shenk says. “The band feeds off the crowd, and vice versa. Everybody dances. They fit right into our reggae night, which is one of our best nights.”

Zula Zula has self-released three albums, Zula Zula, Bongo Love ... Live! and Transcending Parameters Towards Genirations [sic]. A fourth CD, tentatively titled Son of the Soil, is due this summer. Although they’ve yet to earn a recording contract, Zula Zula has captured some national attention, including a glowing review from Los Angeles-based writer Roger Steffens, founding editor of The Beat, a leading publication that covers reggae, African, Caribbean and world music. “If you like to move, and who but the dead don’t, then I recommend you check out a propulsive and irresistible Bongo Love,” Steffens wrote.

But Bongo is more than a musician; he’s also committed to educating Americans about Africa and Zimbabwe. So Zula Zula travels the state and nation, staging concerts and visiting schools to perform traditional African music while Bongo tells folk stories about his country. He also is the founder of the nonprofit Kudzidza Foundation (www.kudzidza.com), a Boulder-based organization that promotes traditional African music and provides school supplies and other needed items for children in his homeland.

A Tradition of Music

Bongo’s love of storytelling and music was inherited from his mother, a bush doctor and spiritual leader who played the drums and sang as part of her traditional religious ceremonies. He doesn’t know her name because women in Zimbabwe don’t enjoy the same status that American women do, and it’s a cultural taboo to call a woman by anything but her father’s or husband’s family name. But his pride and admiration are noticeable when he tells me that she was his greatest inspiration. “People say women don’t play drums, but my mother was the best drummer I ever knew,” he says.

Bongo learned drumming from his mother.

When he was a child, his love for drums earned him the nickname “Bongo” from his grandfather. Later, he says, “my brother called me ‘Bongo Love’ because I always wanted to sing love songs.”

As a young man, Bongo says, he desperately wanted to come to America. “When you’re growing up in Africa, the only things you know about America are what you see on TV. You know the show Knight Rider? I loved that car. I watched TV and thought the streets here were paved with gold, and I said, ‘I want to go there. I want to be like them.’”

He finally arrived in America about eight years ago, moving straight from Zimbabwe to Boulder because he had friends here. He says he sees many striking differences between Zimbabwe and America. Families there are larger—he’s the eldest of 12 children in his family—and people live communally in small compounds of tiny grass-roofed huts that are arranged in circles, each one a bedroom, kitchen or living room. The pace of life there is more relaxed, as Africans typically work only about nine months out of the year. Food is much scarcer, and some of it would seem odd to Americans, he says. Chicken, for example, is a staple food here, but is served only on very special occasions there. Cows aren’t raised for slaughter, but are for “milk and marriage,” he says, explaining that families pay dowries of cattle when their daughters get married. Insects like caterpillars, crickets and grasshoppers—which are known as “manna from heaven”—are considered delicacies and an important source of protein. Traditionally, the Shona people are farmers and foragers, and their staple foods include fruits and vegetables picked from the rainforests. “All our food is organic,” he says, laughing.

See for Yourself

Bongo believes it’s important to discuss cultural differences and to explore other cultures. He encourages people to travel, to see things for themselves and not rely solely on television or books to learn about the world. “Seeing is believing,” he says. “The world’s like a big garden. Some of us are roses, others are petunias, and others are chrysanthemums. Together they make a beautiful garden.”

Children love Bongo's school presentations, which feature traditional African music and storytelling–and encourage dancing.

By this time, our discussion is nearly over. It’s past noon and the mall is getting busy. Every few minutes, a young man or woman who’s seen Zula Zula perform emerges from the crowd and stops to say hello and shake Bongo’s hand, or to give Munya a hug. Some of them they know, others they don’t. The unanticipated affection makes them smile broadly, and it leads me to think about how far away from home their music and art have taken them, and yet how effectively music bridges cultural barriers.

As if he’s reading my mind, Bongo gazes thoughtfully into the crowd all around us. When he speaks, it’s reflectively, almost to himself. “After a while, when you live here,” he says, “you realize it’s the same people. That guy I know here, he thinks and feels the same way as the guy I know there—he just looks different. It’s the same guy as in Zimbabwe.”