Farewell Mama Afrika … she went out singing!
By: Jessica Farley
Miriam Makeba sang a song to the hearts of Africans the world over. The queen of afrobeat, she encompassed elements of the diva, the mother, the ambassador and the mortal. Not perfect, but every inch the ambition of self, Makeba loved through several marriages, sparred with politics, fought cancer, and survived her only daughter. She was Mama Afrika and her story is a million moments, some publicised, most, probably not. Who she was, and what she achieved, now celluloid moments, left an indelible and personal mark on every person who loved her music.
On 29 November 2008, South African’s abroad were given their chance to mourn Makeba at South Africa house in central London. The farewell was beautifully poignant with the spirit and tenacity unique to South Africans permeating the three hour ceremony. Stories of her life from township child to world-wide phenomenon came from an over-whelming variety of well-known figures and the cream of South Africa’s singing talent celebrated, once again, the legacy of her music. To every person there, the story of Makeba and the impact she had was inimitable. For me, her influence can be summarised down to three definitive concerts.
On February 14 1987, Miriam Makeba stood up alongside Paul Simon in Harare, Zimbabwe as part of the ‘Graceland’ album tour. The album, which was recorded primarily in South Africa with the aid of South African artists, went against the UN cultural sanction that she had helped implement. In performing at that concert she was herself disregarding the sanction and seemingly going against her own political ideals. Those are the facts of the story – the truth is somewhat different. The recordings of that concert are now older, grainier, and the clothes on display are different. The unmistakeable Harare sun beats down, innocent to the trials that would soon come and Makeba performs to an ecstatic crowd. She sings for just 15 minutes, as much a part of the song as she is a part of the sky and the sand and the people.
‘I am so happy to be back home, I can’t tell you,’ she says ‘I am happy to be able to play with these young people, these very young talented people, from home after 27 years. But I hope and wish that someday, we will be able to invite Paul Simon to Johannesburg … in a free South Africa!’ [Cue the crowd going wild] She, perhaps, blurred the lines of politics and choice, but she did it well and she kept the spirit of freedom alive. The sanctions have now been lifted, after serving their purpose, and to some they are nearly forgotten, but Makeba’s rendition of Masakela’s Soweto Blues on that stage, in front of those people, at that time, is still a poignant and beautiful piece of music.
The second concert, more personal in its relevance, took place on the Great Field at Rhodes University, Grahamstown. Traditionally the scene of wild university tournaments, that day the Great Field held a perfect moment just for us. Makeba, in Grahamstown to receive an honorary doctorate, opened the Rhodes 100 years of excellence centenary celebrations on 21 February, 2004. Selfish and self-righteous as only young adults can be, the afternoon before her performance was riddled with drama and angsty conversations. We waited in anticipation for her to come on stage, but it was an anticipation borne of canned excitement (we were really just pretending to be cultured) …then she came on stage. My goodness, it seems so clichéd in hindsight, but the sun was setting, and it was still warm at the end of summer. She sang a song about the birth of Africa, which made me tingle. The field was silent save for a nightingale voice and a million moments of possibility. Right then, I realised a lasting love of live music, of a diva and of a country worth fighting for.
Finally - the region of Campania in Italy on November 2008. A concert organised in support of writer Roberto Saviano in his campaign against the mafia-esque Camorra. A drug deal in the wrong place at the wrong time had led to the execution-style killing of six immigrants of African descent in the region in September 2008, sparking violent riots. Makeba, strong in her actions and steady in her convictions, supported the campaign in aid of her kinsmen and performed a set, ending with possibly her most famous song Pata Pat,a before exiting, for the last time, to rapturous applause.
It is not a movie, it is not scripted and Makeba’s death will sit heavy in our hearts for a long while to come. But,,I like to think, if she could have scripted it to the end, hopefully a beautiful song, a delighted audience and an altruistic act would have all been part of the plan. She ended as she started, passionate, stubborn and vocal in her beliefs.
Her opinions on equality and conviction of spirit, housed in a head prone to histrionics and theatrics, didn’t age with her body. A diva, a politician, an ambassador, an African child, a servant, a queen and a mother of a nation: Makeba sang in over six languages, including Portuguese, Yiddish and isiXhosa. She was the first African artist to win a Grammy, the mouthpiece of South African music to the world and an unbelievable artist.
On 9 November 2008, Miriam Makeba suffered a heart attack, moments after completing her performance in support of Robert Saviano in Italy. She was rushed to the hospital, but later died. She was 76.
By: Jessica Farley
Miriam Makeba sang a song to the hearts of Africans the world over. The queen of afrobeat, she encompassed elements of the diva, the mother, the ambassador and the mortal. Not perfect, but every inch the ambition of self, Makeba loved through several marriages, sparred with politics, fought cancer, and survived her only daughter. She was Mama Afrika and her story is a million moments, some publicised, most, probably not. Who she was, and what she achieved, now celluloid moments, left an indelible and personal mark on every person who loved her music.
On 29 November 2008, South African’s abroad were given their chance to mourn Makeba at South Africa house in central London. The farewell was beautifully poignant with the spirit and tenacity unique to South Africans permeating the three hour ceremony. Stories of her life from township child to world-wide phenomenon came from an over-whelming variety of well-known figures and the cream of South Africa’s singing talent celebrated, once again, the legacy of her music. To every person there, the story of Makeba and the impact she had was inimitable. For me, her influence can be summarised down to three definitive concerts.
On February 14 1987, Miriam Makeba stood up alongside Paul Simon in Harare, Zimbabwe as part of the ‘Graceland’ album tour. The album, which was recorded primarily in South Africa with the aid of South African artists, went against the UN cultural sanction that she had helped implement. In performing at that concert she was herself disregarding the sanction and seemingly going against her own political ideals. Those are the facts of the story – the truth is somewhat different. The recordings of that concert are now older, grainier, and the clothes on display are different. The unmistakeable Harare sun beats down, innocent to the trials that would soon come and Makeba performs to an ecstatic crowd. She sings for just 15 minutes, as much a part of the song as she is a part of the sky and the sand and the people.
‘I am so happy to be back home, I can’t tell you,’ she says ‘I am happy to be able to play with these young people, these very young talented people, from home after 27 years. But I hope and wish that someday, we will be able to invite Paul Simon to Johannesburg … in a free South Africa!’ [Cue the crowd going wild] She, perhaps, blurred the lines of politics and choice, but she did it well and she kept the spirit of freedom alive. The sanctions have now been lifted, after serving their purpose, and to some they are nearly forgotten, but Makeba’s rendition of Masakela’s Soweto Blues on that stage, in front of those people, at that time, is still a poignant and beautiful piece of music.
The second concert, more personal in its relevance, took place on the Great Field at Rhodes University, Grahamstown. Traditionally the scene of wild university tournaments, that day the Great Field held a perfect moment just for us. Makeba, in Grahamstown to receive an honorary doctorate, opened the Rhodes 100 years of excellence centenary celebrations on 21 February, 2004. Selfish and self-righteous as only young adults can be, the afternoon before her performance was riddled with drama and angsty conversations. We waited in anticipation for her to come on stage, but it was an anticipation borne of canned excitement (we were really just pretending to be cultured) …then she came on stage. My goodness, it seems so clichéd in hindsight, but the sun was setting, and it was still warm at the end of summer. She sang a song about the birth of Africa, which made me tingle. The field was silent save for a nightingale voice and a million moments of possibility. Right then, I realised a lasting love of live music, of a diva and of a country worth fighting for.
Finally - the region of Campania in Italy on November 2008. A concert organised in support of writer Roberto Saviano in his campaign against the mafia-esque Camorra. A drug deal in the wrong place at the wrong time had led to the execution-style killing of six immigrants of African descent in the region in September 2008, sparking violent riots. Makeba, strong in her actions and steady in her convictions, supported the campaign in aid of her kinsmen and performed a set, ending with possibly her most famous song Pata Pat,a before exiting, for the last time, to rapturous applause.
It is not a movie, it is not scripted and Makeba’s death will sit heavy in our hearts for a long while to come. But,,I like to think, if she could have scripted it to the end, hopefully a beautiful song, a delighted audience and an altruistic act would have all been part of the plan. She ended as she started, passionate, stubborn and vocal in her beliefs.
Her opinions on equality and conviction of spirit, housed in a head prone to histrionics and theatrics, didn’t age with her body. A diva, a politician, an ambassador, an African child, a servant, a queen and a mother of a nation: Makeba sang in over six languages, including Portuguese, Yiddish and isiXhosa. She was the first African artist to win a Grammy, the mouthpiece of South African music to the world and an unbelievable artist.
On 9 November 2008, Miriam Makeba suffered a heart attack, moments after completing her performance in support of Robert Saviano in Italy. She was rushed to the hospital, but later died. She was 76.
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