Tracing the Mbira Sound Archive in Zimbabwe

Tracing the Mbira Sound Archive in Zimbabwe analyses the revitalisation and repatriation of historical recordings from the largest sound archive in Africa, the International Library of African Music (ILAM). It provides a postcolonial study on the African sound archive divided into three historical periods: the colonial period offers a critical analysis on how ILAM classifies its music through ethnic and linguistic groups; the postcolonial period reconsiders postcolonial nationhood, new/old mobility and cultural border crossing in present Africa; and the recent period of repatriation focuses on the author’s revitalisation of the sound archive. The main goal of this study is to reconsider the colonial demarcations of southern African mbira music provided by the International Library of African Music (ILAM). These mbira recordings reveal that the harmonic system used in different lamellophones (or mbiras) in southern Africa is musically related. The analysis of sound archives in Africa is an essential tool to envision the new ways in which African culture can be directed not only from postcolonial notions of nationhood or Afrocentric discourses but also for the necessity of bringing awareness of the circulation of musical cultures from and beyond colonial African borders.

Luis Gimenez Amoros is a research fellow at the Centre for Humanities Research (CHR) at the University of the Western Cape. Previously, he has served as an Ethnomusicology lecturer at the University of Fort Hare and as a Postdoctoral fellow in the Unit of Zimbabwean Studies at Rhodes University in South Africa.

Luis Gimenez Amoros University of the Western Cape First published 2018 by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 and by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2018 Taylor & Francis The right of Luis Gimenez Amoros to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Gimenez Amoros, Luis, author. Title: Tracing the Mbira sound archive in Zimbabwe / Luis Gimenez Amoros. Description: New York : Routledge, 2018. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2018008536 (print) | LCCN 2018010952 (ebook) | ISBN 9780429505539 | ISBN 9781138585102 (hardback) Subjects: LCSH: Mbira music—Zimbabwe—History and criticism. | Shona (African people)—Music—History and criticism. Classification: LCC ML1015.M25 (ebook) | LCC ML1015.M25 G56 2018 (print) | DDC 786.8/5096891—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018008536 ISBN: 978-1-138-58510-2 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-429-50553-9 (ebk) Typeset in Times New Roman by Apex CoVantage, LLC To the memory of my grandmother, Francisca Gimenez Aguilar (1929–2017)

ContentsContentsContents

List of Figures ix List of Abbreviations x Foreword xi Acknowledgements xii

Introduction 1

PART I Reconsidering the Colonial Archive 13

1 The Mobilisation of Shona Musical Identity During Colonial Times 15 2 Reconsidering the Colonial Creation of Shona Musical Identity and Shona Mbiras in the Sound Archive 22 3 An Attempt to Link Colonial and Postcolonial Narratives: Andrew Tracey’s “Shona Chord Finder” and the Mbira Country Beyond Borders 32 4 Lyrics and Reinterpretations of Shona-Mbira Recordings 46

PART II Reconsidering the Sound Archive and Postcolonial Nationhood 55

5 The Centralisation of Great Zimbabwe and the Multiple Versions of Chaminuka in the Sound Archive 57 viii Contents 6 Chimurenga Music: Mbira Musical Culture and the Subaltern Versions of Postcolonial Nationhood 70

PART III The Digital Return and Revitalisation Project of the Mbira Sound Archive in Zimbabwe 83

7 Digital Return and Revitalisation of the Sound Archive in Zimbabwe 85 8 Revitalising the Repertoire Through Zimbabwean Musicians 95 9 The Digital Return in the Place of the Recordings 103 10 Curricula Transformation in the African Academy Through the Sound Archive 113

References 121 Discography 126 Filmography 127 Interviews 128 Index 129 FiguresFiguresFigures

2.1 Mbira Ndau 23 2.2 Nyunganyunga/Karimba 24 2.3 Njari 25 2.4 Mbira dza Vadzimu or Nhare 26 2.5 Mbira Matepe 27 3.1 Tracey’s “Shona Chord Finder” in F 33 3.2 Mbira Munyonga 44

All figures courtesy of the author. AbbreviationsRunning Head Left-hand: List of AbbreviationsRunning Head Right-hand: List of Abbreviations

ILAM International Library of African Music MDC Movement of Democratic Change NADA Native Affairs Department Annual SOAS School of Oriental and African Studies ZANU-PF Zimbabwe African National Union Patriotic Front ZAPU-PF Zimbabwe African People’s Union Patriotic Front ForewordRunning Head Left-hand: ForewordRunning Head Right-hand: Foreword

Since 2012 the International Library of African Music (ILAM) has been involved in redeeming its “colonial” legacy so that its mission would comply with demands in the public domain for transformation and accountability. By repatriating music recordings first made by Hugh Tracey, to various countries such as Malawi, Kenya and Tanzania, the former Director of ILAM, Diane Thram, initiated the attempts at developing this ethical turn in archival practice. Since then her goal of repatriating the music has been adopted by numerous graduate students conducting research in Botswana, Mozambique, Zambia and Zimbabwe. While the founder of ILAM, Hugh Tracey, may have been privileged in many ways he was at the vanguard of developing an awareness of the value of African music. The attempts at repatriating the music and reviving an interest in it should always gaze back at his pioneering work on African music. Much like Hugh Tracey’s efforts, this book is a collection of essays on the pioneering attempts made at returning the recordings of ILAM to where they originate in Zimbabwe, and to revitalise an interest in the recordings, the music, and the instruments. In pursuing the debates on the “colonial” through the “postcolonial”, the book is an incisive attempt at developing new ways in which the music archive of the twenty-first century in Africa may be imagined. Through its many associates ILAM is providing a leading, ethical voice. This book is a fitting example of the critical role archives have in developing a postcolonial mandate. The postcolonial moment offers the archive many practical and epistemological challenges, of which many are described in this book. I am sure this book will provoke many thoughts, ideas, and new ways of developing the ethical turn in archival practice and inspire others to follow. Lee Watkins International Library of African Music AcknowledgementsRunning Head Left-hand: AcknowledgementsRunning Head Right-hand: Acknowledgements

Many people have been involved in the completion of this book—mainly in South Africa, Zimbabwe, and Zambia. Firstly, I would like to thank to the Unit of Zimbabwean Studies directed by Kirk Helliker (located at Rhodes University in Grahamstown, South Africa). I am grateful to Helliker for giving me the opportunity to conduct the digital return project of ILAM’s recordings to Zimbabwe as a postdoctoral fellow of the Unit during 2015–2016. At ILAM, I would like to thank Lee Watkins, Diane Thram, Andrew Tracey, Elijah Madiba, Liezl Visage, Elisabeth, Jason, and Bert Witkamp from the Choma museum. My special gratitude to the twenty-two Zimbabwean mbira artists that I was able to meet during the digital return project: Ammara Brown, Perminus Matiure, Hope Masike, David Gweshe, Victor Kunonga, Edgar Bera, Hector Rufano, Moses Masasi, Barnabas Nagalanda, George, Chaka Chawasarira, Benita Tarophiwa, Joyce, Jacob Mafuleni, Alexio Kawara, Almon Moyo, Solomon Madinga, Theresa Muteta, Zimba Shangwe, Prudence Katomene- Mbofana, Fungisai Zvakavapano, and Zensuasolo. I must thank all the Zimbabwean scholars that shared with me a mutual interest in the study of ILAM’s mbira recordings such as Barbara Mahamba, Bridget Chinouriri, Maurice Vambe, Innocent Mutero, Ruby Magosvongwe, Perminus Matiure, Sheasby Matiure, Rekopantswe Mate, Renias Ngara, San- dra Bhatasara, Manase Kudzai Chiweshe, Tafadzwa Chevo, Urther Rwafa, Vimbayinashi Chamisa, Farai Chabata, or Victoria Blessing Butete, among others. Special thanks to Edgar Bera for hosting me at the Mbira Republic during July–August 2016 and for the ongoing projects together. IntroductionIntroductionIntroduction

From at least 1400 on, southern Africa’s indigenous political traditions developed out of a wider connective process bringing people and ideas together over long distances, Venda, Shona, Sechuana, foreign. There was one big thing, not lots of little things, going on (Landau, 2010: 72)

The first time I heard of the International Library of African Music (ILAM) was at the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS) in 2003. As a music undergraduate student, one of the graduate students would allow me to enter the “master’s room” where there was an extensive vinyl collection with many recordings from Africa. Some of the recordings were from the ILAM’s Sound of Africa Series. After that, I spent the last two years of my degree listening to a great number of vinyl records from the ‘Sound of Africa Series’ in the “master’s room” in the music department at SOAS. Looking retrospectively, I listened to the ‘Sound of Africa Series’ in London while not even one single university in Zimbabwe had access to those recordings until I conducted the digital return of ILAM’s Zimbabwean recordings in 2015.

The Study of the Sound Archive in Africa The International Library of African Music (ILAM) is the largest sound archive of African music on the same continent, located in Grahamstown, South Africa. ILAM was founded by Hugh Tracey in 1954 and his recording collection is the most significant contribution to ILAM’s sound archive covering fifteen postcolonial states in Africa. Hugh Tracey’s recordings were made from the 1920s to the 1970s. Later, ILAM expanded to include other recording collections by Davie Darguie on IsiXhosa Music, Blacking and Kruger’s recordings of Venda music, and Drewett’s collection on South Afri- can music during apartheid. 2 Introduction ILAM’s archive covers a wide range of African musical styles from indigenous musical instruments, jazz, choral music in vernacular languages, taraab from Zanzibar, music from precolonial kingdoms such as Buganda, storytelling, or African fingerpicking guitar styles by popular artists such as Mwenda Bosco and George Sibanda. ILAM is an essential source of knowledge because it informs about certain cultural realities of the continent through oral and musical means of expression. During the colonial period, the notion of African music was crystallised in an imagined precolonial continent where music was categorised through ethnic and linguistic groups by ILAM. In other words, the study of African music was observed as subject matter about the culture of the “non-Western Other” by Western and colonial agents, and thus was only sought to be understood through the colonial lens and its accompanying worldview and pre- sumptions surrounding precolonial African culture. During the postcolonial period, the study of African music changes from being a subject to a “living matter” where the sound archive addresses the cultural plurality of postcolonial nations in the African continent. Further- more, during the present postcolonial period, the notion of African music embodies precolonial, ex-colonial, and postcolonial agents that perform music in the continent from indigenous music, jazz, hip-hop, dancehall, or choral music, among other styles. For Muller (2002: 426), during the last century, the notion of African music has been “continually open to redefinition” by “specific historical and political circumstances, either as social beings or as individual agents during the colonial and postcolonial period”. This book attempts to promote the evolution and circulation of mbira musical cultures rather than their crystallisation through notions of nationhood, ethnicity or linguistic categorisations. ILAM’s sound archive offers a valuable platform to link precolonial, colonial, and postcolonial narratives of certain musical styles in the continent. As an example, this book analyses how certain musical styles or harmonic structures of mbira music are performed similarly in different African countries throughout the colonial and postcolonial period. ILAM’s mbira recordings reveal that the harmonic system used in different lamellophones (or mbiras) in southern Africa are musically related, mainly in Zimbabwe, Zambia, Malawi, South Africa, and Mozambique. In order to demonstrate the mobility of these lamellophones and their harmonic systems beyond postcolonial borders, I argue that if this music is not only studied through ethnic and linguistic demarcations but also through musical similarities, then, it is possible to examine the mobility of mbira music in southern Africa. In this book I also reinterpret the colonial sound archive in order to demonstrate the different forms of people’s mobility and relationships between communities occurring in southern Africa Introduction 3 informed, musically and lyrically, by the songs and musicians appearing in the sound archive. In addition to the archival research, this book also informs about the revitalisation and digital return of mbira recordings from Zimbabwe by the author to academic institutions, local musicians, and by travelling to the places where the music was recorded by ILAM. Through the abovementioned forms of revitalising the mbira recordings from ILAM, I examine the sound archive as a source of knowledge that is valued differently by individuals and institutions from Zimbabwe, Zambia, and South Africa; therefore, the value of the archive is multidimensional. The possibility of reconsidering the music and lyrics of Zimbabwean recordings found at the International Library of African Music (ILAM) provides a form of connecting colonial and postcolonial narratives surrounding mbira music. The reconsideration of music archives in Africa is an essential tool to envision the new ways in which African culture can be directed not only from postcolonial notions of nationhood or Afrocentric discourses but also from the necessity to create an awareness of the circulation of musical cultures from and beyond colonial borders. In general, the study of mbira music through the sound archive opens up a wide range of topics that are of broad academic interest in Africa and elsewhere, such as nationalism in relation to mbira musical culture, music with regards to the youth, the interrelation of specific types of music (for instance, mbira in Zimbabwe and elsewhere), the relationship between people living across borders (for instance, Shona speakers along the border of Zimbabwe and Mozambique), and current understandings of the liberation struggles. These and other topics are covered in the book through the current understanding of mbira musical culture in Zimbabwe and in southern Africa.

The Study of Zimbabwean Mbiras in Southern Africa The geographical territory of Zimbabwe was previously named Southern Rhodesia (1896–1980) by the British colonial institutions. The Southern Rhodesian government separated indigenous people into two main linguistic groups: Shona (around 80% of the country) and Ndebele (around 20% of the country). The Ndebele are linguistically related to the Nguni languages from South Africa such as Zulu or IsiXhosa. At ILAM, one cannot findmbira music performed by the Ndebeles or by most of the Nguni people. On the other hand, at ILAM, one can find mbira music performed by any of the Shona groups in Zimbabwe: Kalanga, Karanga, Zezuru, Ndau, Manyika, and Kore Kore. Regarding the different cultural realities in Zimbabwe, after colonialism, the Zimbabwean constitution also acknowledged other linguistic groups as Zimbabwean such as Chewa, Chibarwe, English, Kalanga, Khoisan, Nam- bya, Shangani, Sotho, Tonga, Tswana, Venda, and Xhosa. 4 Introduction After independence, Shona became the first national language in Zimba- bwe. Thus, within the social and cultural plurality in Zimbabwe, there is a political and cultural domination of the Shona. The possibility of studying ILAM’s mbira recordings helps to link Shona mbira music with other southern African musical realities historically and culturally beyond the geographical borders of Zimbabwe. This books examines the historical contextualisation of ILAM’s mbira recordings from Zimbabwe by reinterpreting these historical recordings from 1928–1975. Further to this, the book shows how the revitalisation of these recordings through the different projects by the author may lead to a reconsideration of the evolution and circulation of mbira musical culture in southern Africa.

A Brief History of ILAM’s Foundation by the Traceys Between Zimbabwe and South Africa Hugh Tracey started recording African music when he first arrived in South- ern Rhodesia (present-day Zimbabwe) at the end of the 1920s. During this time, Hugh Tracey’s first recordings were released thanks to the funds from colonial institutions such as Columbia records in Johannesburg in 1929 or his Carnegie fellowship provided by the director of Native Development in Southern Rhodesia, Harold Jowitt, in 1931 (H. Tracey, Vol. 1, 1973: 1–2). Hugh Tracey mentions that most of the settlers did not pay special attention to indigenous music in present Zimbabwe or South Africa. In Hugh Tracey’s view, the interest of ILAM’s recordings became primarily destined to preserve the local music for educational purposes and for African audiences. Thus, in order to provide ILAM’s music to African people during the colonial period, Hugh Tracey was aware of how difficult it would have been to provide musical equipment to listen to the music in remote areas of Africa where there was an audience interested in ILAM’s recordings. For this reason, until the late 1940s, given that the radio was accessible to African people, Hugh Tracey worked as a broadcaster on radio and seized every possible opportunity to introduce his recordings to a wider audience. In 1947, Eric Gallo provided Hugh Tracey with headquarters in Rood- epoort (South Africa) where Hugh Tracey established the African Music Society with the anthropologist Winifred Hoernle. Through Gallo’s record label, Hugh Tracey published his early recordings of African music. Later, in 1954, the International Library was founded thanks to several grants from different colonial institutions. As Hugh Tracey states:

A lecture tour of several universities in Great Britain in 1953 and an appearance for the Royal African Society in London resulted in the Introduction 5 provision of a grant by the Nuffield Foundation with which to establish a non-profit research organisation under the title “The International Library of African Music”. On my return, the Mining industry of South- ern Africa, including the gold, copper and diamond companies of the Congo, Rhodesia and South Africa, generously doubled the grant of the work of the now independent Library began in mid-1954 (Vol. 1, 1973: 5)

From 1948 to 1970, Hugh Tracey did nineteen recording tours in sub- Saharan Africa (ibid.: 11) either funded by Gallo or later through ILAM’s bursaries. In 1969, Andrew Tracey (Hugh’s son) also joined ILAM where he continued recording and conducting ethnomusicological research mostly in present Zimbabwe and Mozambique. ILAM continued to be sponsored by different colonial organisations from Africa and overseas until the end of the 1970s when Hugh Tracey died (1904–1977). Then, Andrew Tracey became director of ILAM and moved the sound archive to Rhodes University in Gra- hamstown, South Africa. While Hugh Tracey was focused on recording the music, Andrew Tracey became a researcher and performer from the beginning of his career. Andrew Tracey is able to play many of the instruments that appear in the sound archive such as the mbira nhare from Zimbabwe, marimba (he was one of the creators of this instrument at Kwanongoma school in Bul- awayo), timbila from Mozambique, pan pipes and bows from southern Africa, amadinda from Uganda, Caribbean steel pans, or calypsos on his guitar, among other instruments. Andrew Tracey was also able to make instruments and founded the factory “African Music Instruments” (AMI) in Grahamstown. As part of his career as a scholar, Andrew Tracey conducted extensive research on mbira music from Zimbabwe and timbila from Mozambique. Andrew Tracey introduced the practical aspect of learning how to play many of the instruments from ILAM’s recordings. However, ILAM’s colonial baggage and the Traceys’ heritage of “African music knowledge” became a contested space during the postcolonial period.

ILAM: A Contested and Useful Hub for the Study of African Music With regards to the study of African music, ILAM can be considered a cultural hub that connects the sound archive with multiple agents (mainly musicians, scholars, and interdisciplinary studies) from African countries and internationally. These agents also provided different interpretations of ILAM in relation to the use of sound archives and its content. 6 Introduction In South Africa, for Lucia (2005: 44), from the 1930s to the 1950s, Hugh Tracey followed the tradition of American folklorists (such as Alan Lomax) interested in recording traditional music in the light of preserving cultural heritages or by the possibility of interpreting the recordings by different agents (Seeger, 1986: 270). Although one could argue that Tracey’s recordings were not primarily based on any commercial interest in selling his recordings, Muller (2004: 27) adds that Hugh Tracey’s commercial and scholarly interest in African recordings led him to work with record labels and radio stations such as Gallo Records or SABC. In 1973, due to the growing interest in the study of African music by West- ern institutions, Hugh Tracey published the Sound of Africa Series (210 LPs of African music recorded by ILAM) with approximately 3100 recordings from the sound archive. However, this music series was not commercialised in many of the African countries during the colonial or postcolonial period. As previously mentioned, none of the Zimbabwean universities or mbira musicians I encountered were familiar with the Zimbabwean mbira recordings from ILAM until I conducted the digital return project in the country during 2015–2016. In recent research by another South African scholar, Lambrechts (2012) focuses on the functionality of ILAM’s recordings as a tool for shaping national memory in South Africa, and to examine the use of sound archives as a tool of institutional power providing a historical approach to the study of archives since the French revolution. The postcolonial study on nationhood through ILAM’s colonial archives has been a point of reference for other African scholars such as Chikowero (2015) or Agawu (2003). For Chikowero (2015: 139), through ILAM, Hugh Tracey contributed to the colonial “freeze” of music from the continent through the segregation of Africa in line with the Apartheid regime. While Chikowero’s criticism is a valid exposition of the pitfalls of colonialism, he does not, however, provide a way to unlearn the process of decolonising the archive by deterritorialis- ing the continent or by providing a wider version of mbira musical culture beyond postcolonial nationhood in Zimbabwe. In this regard, Andrew Trac- ey’s recent publication (2015) proposes the notion of the “Mbira country” where he examines musical similarities between mbiras from five southern African countries; however, he does not offer an in-depth mbira musical culture by way of combining his observations with local musicians or scholars from Zimbabwe. For Agawu (2003: 199), the ethics of representation of African music (as a whole) has been considered in many of his publications. The representation of African music through ILAM’s archive in relation to its institutional power is somehow contested in Agawu’s book Representing African Music: Introduction 7 Postcolonial Notes, Queries, Positions. Contrary to the idea of only studying the general representation of African music (politically, socially, and musically), this book is rather specific to the examination of how mbira music resonates with the politics, social context and musical development of mbira musical cultures in Zimbabwe and its relationship with other musical cultures in southern Africa. Coetzee’s critical approach to ILAM is directed towards the notion of whiteness and Hugh Tracey in southern Africa. She asserts that Hugh Tracey portrays his whiteness “as central to knowledge production and reception” (2012: 52). For Coetzee, Hugh Tracey intended to help “African artists” in a rather missionary form in which Africans must be always helped by white people or serve whiteness, in this case, through the sound archive. Studies on the notion of whiteness are essential in order to reconsider the colonial mind and their aims for the study of African music. Apart from the scholars that offer a valuable criticism on the study of ILAM, there are international scholars that have used the rich musical resources for their research on sound archives such as Allen (2007: 266), Fargion (2004: 452), or Jabbour and Hickerson (1970: 286). A large number of ethnomusicologists have also used ILAM’s archive for their ethnographic research on Zimbabwean music such as Perman (2015), Turino (1998), or Berliner (1975), among others. For both international and local scholars, ILAM’s archive offers a great platform for the development of future projects by scholars, musicians, or interdisciplinary projects.

Digital Return and Revitalisation Projects at ILAM The digital return consists of bringing back the recordings from the sound archive in a digital format (CD or MP3 mainly) to the country, region, or location where these recordings were made. On the other hand, the revitalisation is based on how the responsible agent for the digital return of the sound archive is able to engage with these recordings by performing or reinterpreting them with cultural bearers and international actors among other possible revitalisation projects. During the last five years, the digital return and revitalisation of ILAM’s sound archive has been conducted by different scholars in various countries; Thram in Malawi, Tanzania and Kenya, Mojaki in Botswana, Bisso Ssem- peke in Uganda, and Madiba and Lobley in South Africa. At present, Moon is also conducting the digital return and revitalisation of mbira matepe recordings from ILAM primarily in Zimbabwe. It is evident that there is a trend of scholars interested in revitalising ILAM’s recordings in the places where the music was recorded. Each of 8 Introduction these digital return projects offers different views on the notion of revitalising ILAM’s music by national, African, or international scholars. Regarding the interest of African scholars in revitalising ILAM’s music from their countries of origin, Mojaki (2015), as a scholar from Botswana, has been able to reflect deeply into her own national culture producing a valuable contribution to her country’s musical heritage (Bangwaketse music) and by conducting the digital return of ILAM’s archive as an African scholar in her own country. Madiba conducted the digital return and revitalisation of IsiXhosa music from the Eastern Cape where ILAM is located. In the case of Madiba, although he is not IsiXhosa, his Master’s dissertation becomes a valuable contribution as a South African citizen studying the music from a non-culturally inherited area of study in his country of origin. In other words, Madiba’s digital return project helps to strengthen the notion of national citizenship and interest in the plurality of national culture in South Africa. As one of the few court musicians from the Bugandan Kingdom in Uganda, Ssempeke conducted the revitalisation of ILAM’s recordings from the Bugandan kingdom during his artist in residence fellowship at ILAM during August–October 2017. The digital return of ILAM’s recordings by Mojaki, Madiba, and Ssempeke are essential during the present postcolonial period because they help to link the sound archive with the countries where the sound archive was recorded during the colonial period. In the case of Thram, Lobley, and the author, the interest in revitalising ILAM’s archive has been conducted due to the interest in the study of ILAM’s recordings as international scholars. Lobley’s (2012) digital return projects consisted of revitalising ILAM’s archive by using tracks from the sound archive for DJ sessions in South Africa. During my years researching at ILAM, there have been a considerable number of national and international DJs using the archive for their sessions which is a positive way of revitalising the archive. Further to this, Lobley and Jirotka (2011) has also considered the possibility of revitalising ILAM’s archive by using digital technology such as sending the music as an MP3 format through cell phones or by finding other interactive ways of transmission through digital technology. As ILAM’s ex-former director, Thram’s contribution to the digital return and revitalisation of ILAM’s archive is highly admirable because she has been able to connect the sound archive to multiple agents in the continent and internationally. Thram’s studies on the sound archive have been reflected in edited collections such as Understanding African Music (Carver, 2014), scholarly publications on her experience as ILAM’s director, the revitalisation of Eastern Cape Jazz music, and digital return projects in Kenya and Tanzania. With regard to her digital return projects, Thram initiated the digital return projects at ILAM and later inspired other scholars to follow this path. Introduction 9 In 2015, the author was primarily supported by Thram, Andrew Tracey and Lee Watkins (ILAM’s director since 2017) for the digital return project of the mbira sound archive in Zimbabwe and Zambia. Prior to this research, from 2011–2015, I was funded to conduct my Master’s and Doctoral dissertation on Western Saharawi music by ILAM. As part of my bursary, I worked as a part-time librarian assistant in the sound archive. During these years my interest in the sound archive as a scholar and mbira performer led me to start the digital return project after the completion of my doctoral thesis. From 2015–2016, I conducted the digital return and revitalisation of mbira recordings from ILAM’s archive. As part of the revitalisation process, I performed with more than twenty mbira artists, edited a book on the study of Zimbabwean music by local scholars entitled Performing Zimbabwe: A Transdisciplinary Study (forthcoming), curated the documentary and CD albums Edgar Bera: The Revitalisation of Mbiras in Zimbabwe (forthcoming), ran workshops on the revitalisation of ILAM’s mbira recordings with Hope Masike, and curated the educational book and DVD on how to learn six types of southern African mbiras entitled How to play Zimbabwean mbiras (forthcoming). This present book is the final publication reflecting on my digital return projects in Zimbabwe and how it connects with the history of mbira musical culture in southern Africa.

Book Summary The book is divided into three main parts; colonial, postcolonial, and present reconsideration of the archive through the author’s digital return of ILAM’s mbira recordings. The first part reconsiders linguistic and ethnic categorisations of African music by ILAM. Mamdani’s (1996) notion of indirect rule and “native and citizenship relationship” helps to question the artificial division of the African continent and how it affected the study of mbira music in southern Africa. Further to this, I use Landau’s (2010) study on the history of politics in South Africa. Landau (2010) suggests that before the colonial partition of the continent, there was a wide circulation of goods and culture in southern Africa. Chapter Two examines how ILAM’s classification of African music through ethnicity and language conditioned the specific study of Shona mbira music in southern Africa. Through the study of the mbira recordings from ILAM, this chapter questions Shona musical identity in Zimbabwe and beyond its geographical borders. Chapter Three provides a critical analysis of Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence by identifying similar chord cadences from ILAM’s recordings outside Mashonaland. The study of the circulation of the Shona chord cadence beyond colonial borders is firstly demonstrated by archival research 10 Introduction on mbira music and through Andrew Tracey’s concept of the “Mbira country” in southern Africa. In Chapter Four, I use the notion of memory in relation to the lyrical content from mbira recordings. In this chapter, the reconsideration of the lyrical content of ILAM’s mbira recordings helps to unravel the social and political content of many recordings that Hugh Tracey classified as humorous or self-delectative. However, many of these songs contained a valuable source of historical memory or subaltern information about social issues by local musicians. Part II examines Shona mbira music in relation to the construction of postcolonial nationhood. In Chapter Five, I argue the multidimensional use of national spiritual guidance through songs dedicated to the spirit of Chaminuka in relation to mbira songs from the archive and in contrast to the unidirectional discourse of the mentioned songs by the postcolonial government. By analysing mbira songs from the sound archive, Chapter Five demonstrates that there were multiple interpretations of Shona spirituality in relation to Mondoro spirits and not always centralised to the version provided by the ZANU-PF during independence. Chapter Six examines the commodification of the mbira repertoire through nationalist songs and the homogenous notion of mbira music that does not address the diversity of lamellophones in Zimbabwe but rather promotes the music from two types of Shona mbira, the mbira nhare and the nyunganyunga. The homogenisation of mbira music is provoked by overemphasising certain types of Shona mbiras by the government without considering diversity or circulation of mbira music in southern Africa. ILAM’s archive offers a valuable resource that helps to question the postcolonial present in Zimbabwe. Part III analyses the digital return of mbira recordings from ILAM by the digital return of Zimbabwean recordings from ILAM to Zimbabwean (and to a lesser extent, Zambian) universities and schools, as well as the revitalisation of ILAM’s mbira recordings through performances by more than twenty-two mbira players, and by returning to the places where the recordings were originally made. In Chapter Seven, I analyse the impact of the digital return at universities in Zimbabwe and how local scholars demand the digital return of music and tangible instruments from ILAM. The possible repatriation of Zimbabwean instruments from ILAM in Zimbabwe opens up a discourse on power relationships between the sound archive and African universities. Chapter Eight reconsiders the revitalisation of Shona mbira music by Zimbabwean mbira musicians through the notion of memory and “classical repertoire”. However, I also argue that what is popularly known as the mbira Shona repertoire should be broadened to its musical similarities with other Introduction 11 mbira music from southern Africa as previously observed in Part One and Part Two. Chapter Nine analyses the digital return of ILAM’s recordings in the places where the recordings were made by Hugh Tracey. In this chapter, I also describe the interaction with various agents where the symbolic return occurred such as chiefs, local musicians, museums, and the National Museum of History in Harare. Lastly, Chapter Ten provides a reflection on the sound archive as a vehicle for transforming the African curricula through using the archive as a new form of African knowledge production and by providing accessibility to Africans in a musical and interdisciplinary form. Each of the areas discussed in the book offers a valuable reference for future archival research in the sound archive from which to create new forms of interdisciplinary knowledge that interlink colonial and postcolonial narratives regarding the study of musical cultures in southern Africa. Most of the recordings and pictures from this book can be found at ILAM’s digital archive [www.ru.ac.za/ilam]. Additionally, I have included the year and location of the recordings cited throughout the book.

Part I Reconsidering the

Colonial ArchiveReconsidering the Colonial ArchiveShona Musical Identity During Colonial Times

1 The Mobilisation of Shona Musical Identity During Colonial Times

After the Berlin conference during 1884–1885, the partition of Africa by colonial powers provoked a disjunction in the cultural and social hegemony of many societies in the continent. The present African countries were not only created by colonial powers but were also distributed by the colonial nations mainly for the exploitation of the mineral resources from Africa. For this reason, the colonial map of Africa was named by Europeans “The Map of Africa by Treaty” (Wesseling, 1996: 4). The European countries that participated in the partition of Africa were the United Kingdom, France, Portu- gal, Germany, Holland, Spain, and Italy. The consequences of the partition still persist and, as a result, this was the beginning of a broad area of studies known as postcolonial studies in Africa that considers both the decolonisation and assimilation of the mentioned artificial borders. Postcolonial studies also deals with different aspects of the construction of postcolonial countries; therefore, it also examines the processes of decolonisation, colonialism, and neo-colonialism at present. In particular, this chapter deals with the continuation of the Shona musical identity in colonial and postcolonial Zimbabwe. For instance, considering the territorial problems found in southern Africa, one can find Ndebele communities in South Africa and Zimbabwe or Shona communities in Mozam- bique or Zimbabwe. The partition of African countries by Western European nations divided many African communities with ethnic and linguistic similarities in different colonial countries. With regards to the colonial processes experienced by Zimbabwe, during the late nineteenth century, the British annexed Bechuanaland (present Bot- swana) in 1885 and gained access to the Zambezi River. “Southern Zambezia comprised Matebeleland and Mashonaland” (Wesseling, 1996: 293), in other words, the present territory of Zimbabwe. In 1891, the Matebeleland was officially called Rhodesia due to the colonial importance and power given to Cecil John Rhodes (1853–1902).1 Later, in 1897, Rhodesia was officially recognised and spread over Southern Rhodesia (present Zimbabwe) and North- ern Rhodesia (present Zambia) (ibid.: 300).2 16 Reconsidering the Colonial Archive The mobilisation of Shona identity was primarily created by Southern Rhodesians. Southern Rhodesia was divided by the Native Affairs Depart- ment Annual (NADA) into two broad groups: Matebeleland and Masho- naland (Mazarire, 2002: 421).3 NADA was founded by missionaries and colonial administrators. This colonial administration divided Mashonaland by six groups with apparent linguistic and ethnic similarities named Karanga, Kalanga, Ndau, Zezuru, Manyika, and Kore Kore.

There are six basic dialects in the Shona language, and a specific type of mbira is found among each group although some do overlap. The dialects are Zezuru, Karanga, Korekore, Manyika, Kalanga and Ndau, and some of these dialects have sub-dialects as well. The Manyika mainly occupy the eastern parts of the country, the Karanga the south, the Zezuru the central parts of the country, the Korekore the north, the Kalanga the west, whilst the Ndau are in the southeast as shown in the map below. Generally people understand one another regardless; however, each dialect (and sub dialect) has its own distinct features which give rise to semantic differences in the language and peculiar intona- tions in speech. (Gumboreshumba, 2009: 24)

The six Shona groups were created by the missionary stations placed in the six demarcated areas in Mashonaland. Thus, as Makoni, Brutt-Griffler and Mashiri (2007: 28) note, the Zezuru had the Roman Catholic Church and Wes- leyan Methodist Church, the Manyika had the Anglican Church and United Methodist, the Ndau had the American Board Mission (American Methodist), the Kalanga had the London Missionary Society, and the Karanga had the Dutch Reformed Church (while the Kore Kore had none). In the attempt to proselytise Christianism, NADA created a language known as “standardised Shona” with the use of the six different languages found in Mashonaland. However, the creation of standardised Shona was mainly constructed by using Zezuru and Karanga because NADA associated other Shona dialects with the Nguni linguistic group from South Africa (ibid.: 29). During the colonial period, among the six designated groups of Shona people, those individuals who had been converted to Christianity were forced to learn the newly standardised Shona in order to write a Bible that could be understood by the people inhabiting this geographical area. As part of the interaction between the colonisers and local converts or non- converts, there were many settlers funded by NADA that developed a type of literature known as “intellectual tribalism” (Mazarire, 2002: 429).

Each official would tend to have his own favoured tribe or tribes. In the case of Southern Rhodesia specific ‘empires’ were created with Shona Musical Identity During Colonial Times 17 J. Blake ‘Marhumbini’ Thompson carving out a niche in the lowveld, Harald von Sicard on Mberengwa, F.W.T. Posselt on Marandellas and Salisbury districts and so the list goes on. In this way a trend was set for generations of scholars to come, culminating in what I have termed intellectual tribalism elsewhere. The focus of these early ethnographies remained centred on the chiefs and chiefdoms where they worked. Tribal genealogies, histories, customs and folk tales were the inevita- ble products of these projects which were in the most cases perfected to ‘show off the degree of intimacy achieved with natives around a campfire’.

Mazarire demonstrates that intellectual tribalism was mostly based on the relationship between local chiefs and settlers. Hugh Tracey also developed a form of intellectual tribalism in his narratives on African music prominently funded by colonial institutions such as NADA in southern Rhodesia. This type of colonial framework in Southern Rhodesia is defined by Mam- dani (1996) as the relationship between the settler and the native (mostly chiefs) in order to manipulate the local history and to divide the local people by race and ethnicity.

Settlers and Natives: The Colonial Divisions Through Race and Ethnicity According to Landau (2010: 1), before the tribalisation of southern Africa at the end of the nineteenth century, local people were accustomed to circulate along vast geographical trading routes beyond present geographical borders. For Landau, the colonial attempt to create tribal land was not only artificial but brutally forced because “popular mobilisations among African people were apolitical, customs-determined phenomena”. The invention of tribalised land and subsequent network of chiefs created by the colonists became the beginning of the indirect rule between settlers and “natives” in southern Africa. The indirect rule made by colonial institutions consisted of controlling the tribalised geographical regions in order to impose hierarchical systems between natives and settlers. In Mamdani’s words,

The difference between the modern democratic state and its colonial version is this: the modern states ensure equal citizenship in political society while acknowledging difference in civil society, but its colonial counterparts institutionalised difference in both the polity and society. (1996: 2) 18 Reconsidering the Colonial Archive This form of colonial system creates a native administration set by race and ethnicity (or the notion of tribe) such as the previously mentioned Native Affairs Department Annual (NADA), which served to create two main groups in Southern Rhodesia: the Shona and the Ndebele. In this type of colonial system, Mamdani adds that “if settler cosmopolitanism claimed to be a product of race difference, native particularism was said to reflect the authenticity of the tribe” (ibid.: 3). The notion of authenticity by the settlers produced demarcated areas and kingships in the so-called tribal lands (ibid.: 7). On the other hand, civil law is based on state policies and applies to citizens in non-demarcated tribal areas such as the settlers. The settler-citizen is not conditioned by customary laws in demarcated territories and is able to move throughout the country, favoured by the civil law (referred to as “civi- lised” people by the settlers). In other words, civil laws were designed by settlers to benefit their freedom of mobility either in settlers’ lands or “civil” lands. The creation of civil and customary law by colonial institutions is a potential form of control and domination over the “natives” because they are firstly controlled by their chiefs and secondly by the “civil” laws. As a settler, Hugh Tracey benefited from the “civil” laws and his access to local culture was provided by colonial institutions such as NADA. Further to this, the study of mbira musical culture became based on the artificial territorialisation of music through the customary laws and ethnic categorisations.

Tradition and Mobilisation in Southern African Culture In accordance with Mamdani on the use of customary law and its notion of tradition, the colonisers were the first to instil two core, erroneous beliefs:

One, that every colonised group has an original and pure tradition, whether religious or ethnic; and two, that every colonised group must be made to return to that original condition, and that the return must be enforced by law. Put together, these two propositions constitute the basic platform of every political fundamentalism in the colonial and the postcolonial world. (1996: 50)

As part of the mobilisation of created communities by the colonial forces in southern Africa, Ranger (1983: 211) contributed to the unravelling of this conception of tradition by saying that:

The 1870s, 1880s and 1890s were the time of a great flowering of European invented tradition—ecclesiastical, educational, military, Shona Musical Identity During Colonial Times 19 republican, monarchical. They were also the time of the European rush into Africa. There were many and complex connections between the two processes. The concept of Empire was central to the process of inventing tradition within Europe itself, but the African empires came so late in the day that they demonstrate the effects rather than the causes of European invented tradition.

In the United Kingdom, tradition was used to define the culture of the workers and rural areas. However, as Ranger (ibid.: 212) notes, the idea of workers or peasants among the local population in colonised African countries always appeared through the notion of natives in rural areas ruled by customary laws. Thus, tradition became localised through customary laws based on ethnicity and language. In music, the notion of tradition is studied by location, ethnicity, and language; for instance, Irish music is related to Ireland or flamenco music is related to southern Spain. Through the notion of tradition, music is studied and identified in a geographically bounded location. The difference between the Western notion of traditional music and Shona musical identity is that the Shona is perceived as “static or native music” by many settlers and Western scholars. Firstly, the notion of Shona music would not exist if not for the project of tribalism through race and ethnicity by the settlers. Secondly, the study of Shona music enhances the interaction between the settler and native; furthermore, it frames the notion of musical tradition as a static, timeless, and fixed form of music in a demarcated area. Tracey’s studies on southern African music have been examined through the representation of music by the geographical places assigned by the settlers. Additionally, during the colonial and even the postcolonial period, a great number of ethnomusicological studies on African music have tended to accentuate the notion of “native culture” (or ethnicity) and promote the problematic notion of authenticity in tribalised areas created by the colonies. As an example, during the colonial period, Berliner’s (1978) study on Shona mbira music provided a colonial framework based on the geographical space of the Shona and did not challenge the social mobility of mbira music beyond Mashonaland. In other words, Berliner’s work uses the notion of traditional music through ethnic and linguistic categorisations that the colonial forces assigned in Mashonaland. On the other hand, Berliner’s study on the Shona mbira music offers valuable descriptions regarding the functionality of the bira ceremony to call the ancestors or for rainmaking ceremonies. During the postcolonial period, Kubik (1988) is another ethnomusicologist that uses the colonial mapping of Africa for his studies on southern African music. Kubik’s comparative research between Shona music and 20 Reconsidering the Colonial Archive other southern African communities created by colonialism does not question the colonial geographical spaces or the notion of ethnicity for his musical analysis. Even in contemporary studies on Shona music, Turino (2000) uses cosmopolitanism to analyse “Shona music” in postcolonial Zimbabwe and under the notion of Zimbabwean music in the World Music industry. Therefore, Turino’s use of cosmopolitanism and globali- sation addresses the continuum of Shona native identity in postcolonial Zimbabwe. Turino’s view on cosmopolitanism does not resolve the notion of nativism and mobilisation of musical tradition because it accepts the colonial mapping and its evolution. Furthermore, it suggests the cultural mobilisation of Shona musical culture by emphasising the interaction between Shona music as musically static in relation to its interaction with the Western world through rock, jazz, or chimurenga. Apart from certain tendencies to territorialise Shona-mbira music by international scholars, some contemporary Zimbabwean scholars use the notion of Shona identity to analyse the music of their country, such as Manyawu (2014) in relation to Shona songs during the liberation war, Vambe (2011) and the notion of chimurenga music in relation to Shona identity, Nyawo (2012) in relation to the songs for the agrarian reform in post-2000 era, Maki- na’s (2009) study on the white Zimbabwean hip-hop artist Monro and his Shona identity, or Rutsate’s examination on Karanga’s dance and music as part of the Shona identity (2010). There is a large contribution of colonial and postcolonial literature on the continuum of Shona musical identity that contributes to enhance tradition and mobilisation instead of musical and cultural mobility beyond colonialism or postcolonial nationhood. As a response to the notion of nativism in academic research, Mamdani also claims that in postcolonial times, the “only emancipation possible for settler and native is for both to cease to exist as political identities” (1996: 4).

Conclusion The categorisation by ILAM’s recordings was based on ethnicity (or tribalisation) and linguistic demarcations. Additionally, the “customary and civil laws” suggested the crystallisation of indigenous music. This chapter shows how the reconsideration of the colonial mapping of Africa can lead to new research in order to examine the cultural mobility of mbira music rather than its territorialisation in Mashonaland or southern Africa. In the following chapter, I will analyse the Traceys’ studies on mbira music and how they challenged the territorialisation of Shona mbira music. Shona Musical Identity During Colonial Times 21 Notes 1 Rhodes grew up in England, however, he moved to South Africa with his brother when he was only 17. In 1871, he became the proprietor of the early Kimberley diamond mining enterprise, resulting in his rise as a rich settler and capitalist imperialist throughout southern Africa. Later, he created the De Beers Consolidated Mining company which controlled more than 90% of the world’s diamond production (Wesseling, 1996: 290). 2 From 1888–1923, the British crown granted a thirty five years royal charter to ‘British South African Company’ directed by Cecil John Rhodes. In 1899, BSAC formed a white supremacist government under the name of Rhodesia. However, due to a popular discontent with BSAC by the settlers , the white minority created a new government in Southern Rhodesia (present Zimbabwe) from 1922–1979. [http://www.sahistory.org.za/article/role-cecil-john-rhodes-british-south-african- company-conquest-matabeleland]. 3 The Native Affairs Department Annual run from 1923–1979. 2 Reconsidering the Colonial Creation of Shona Musical Identity and Shona Mbiras

in the Sound ArchiveReconsidering the Colonial ArchiveColonial Creation of Shona Musical Identity

From the ethnic and linguistic categorisation of Shona-mbiras in Hugh Tracey’s Sound of Africa Series collection, he categorised different types of regional Shona mbiras according to the area of the recordings as follows: Njari Karanga/Mhari (Chibi, 1958); Njari Shona/Zezuru/Njanja (Salisbury, 1949); Njari Shona/Zezuru/Hera (Gwelo, Buhera and F. Victoria, 1949); Njari Mbira Karanga/Govera (Chilimanzi district, 1950); Kalimba Shona/Karanga (in Muzeze and Fort Victoria, 1958); Matebe Dza Mhondoro (Mtoko at Mkota district 1958); Mbira Karanga/Duma (Fort Victoria, 1958); Mbira Huru Zezuru (Goromonze district, 1951); Mbira dza Ndau (various locations); Mbira dza wa Ndau Tonga/Hlanganu (Bileni district, Sul do sabe province, 1955); Mbira dza wa Ndau Tswa/Hllengwe (Vilanculos district in Mesina mines and Nova Luzi- tania 1957); and Mbira dze chi Ndau (Mwanditura district, Chipinga, 1963). As observed above, some mbira Ndau recordings come from Mozambique which denotes that the territorialisation of Shona mbiras transcends colonial borders; therefore, the musicological study of Shona mbiras challenges the ethnic and linguistic divisions of categorisation used by ILAM.

The Study of Lamellophones From Southern Africa In ethnomusicological studies by Hugh Tracey and Andrew Tracey, they also classified music through the categorisation of instruments (organology) and through scales (pentatonic, hexatonic, or heptatonic).1 In what follows, this chapter examines the different classifications and studies on lamellophones by Hugh and Andrew Tracey. In order to classify the lamellophones from Southern and Eastern Africa, Hugh Tracey (1961: 18) formed two large groups: likembe in Eastern and Central African (mostly pentatonic and hexatonic lamellophones); and mbira (mostly heptatonic lamellophones) in southern Africa (1961).

The [mbira] area comprises most of Rhodesia, central Mozambique, and southern and eastern Zambia, and parts of southern Malawi, southern Colonial Creation of Shona Musical Identity 23 Mozambique, and northern Transvaal, South Africa. Or, to put it more simply, much of the lower Zambezi valley, with a spill over towards the south. (A. Tracey, 1972: 85)

In relation to the classification of lamellophones by scales, Hugh Tracey (1961) classified them by pentatonic, hexatonic, or heptatonic scales. The mbiras amongst the Shona people are heptatonic except the mbira Ndau being hexatonic (A. Tracey, 1972: 85) (Figure 2.1). At ILAM, some of the heptatonic mbiras performed by Shona people cover the nyunganyunga or also called karimba (A. Tracey, 2015: 129), njari, nyonganyonga, huru, and matepe (A. Tracey, 1972: 87).2 The nyunganyunga and the njari recordings are found in different Shona communities. In contrast, the dza vadzimu or nhare is related to the Ze zuru and Karanga, the huru (similar to the mbira nhare) to the Manyika, the matepe to the Kore Kore people, and the mbira Ndau to the Ndau people. This chapter examines the heptatonic mbiras found in the Shona people such as the nyunganyunga (also called karimba or kalimba in different parts of southern Africa), njari, dza vadzimu, and matepe.

Figure 2.1 Mbira Ndau made by Edgar Bera at the Mbira Republic, Harare 24 Reconsidering the Colonial Archive According to Andrew Tracey (2015: 129), the Zimbabwean heptatonic mbiras descend from the eight keys kalimba. Andrew Tracey (1972: 89) proposes that the kalimba started within the confines of the Zambezi River in northern Mozambique and extended towards the west (present Zimbabwe, Malawi and Zambia) and the south (South Africa). According to Andrew Tracey (1961: 44), the nyunganyunga is probably one of the oldest mbiras in Mashonaland which originally comes from the Nyungwe people of Mozam- bique and their kalimba type of mbira called sansi. Andrew Tracey’s nyunganyunga teacher was Jege Tapera, who affirms that he learnt the instrument in Mhurewa in Zimbabwe inhabited by Nyungwe people (200 km from Tete in Mozambique) (Gumboreshumba, 2009: 28). Since 1961, Tapera taught the nyunganyunga at Kwanongoma School in Bul- awayo where the instrument became popular in Southern Rhodesia (ibid.: 29). Nowadays, the nyunganyunga is also taught in many schools in Zim- babwe. The nyunganyunga has two rows of reeds, seven above and eight at the bottom. From right to left, the first four keys from each row are tuned in octaves. The first four keys from each row are tuned accordingly thus “Key 1 at the top row is C high and Key 1 at the bottom row is C low” (Figure 2.2).3

Figure 2.2 Nyunganyunga/Karimba made by African Music instruments (AMI) in Grahamstown Colonial Creation of Shona Musical Identity 25 The majority of the keys from a njari (commonly twenty-nine reeds) are also tuned in octaves between the top row and the bottom row (see Fig- ure 2.3). At ILAM, many of the mbira recordings from Zimbabwe are played by njari players and perhaps it demonstrates that the njari was one of the most popular mbiras from the 1930s to the 1970s in Zimbabwe. The mbira nhare or dza vadzimu is generally played with paired octaves or fifths in the left hand (bottom row and top row); however, the right hand plays a heptatonic major scale (either major or Mixolydian) in a single row of notes (see Figure 2.4). The pair of octaves in the left hand are also grouped differently to the njari and the nyunganyunga. For instance, if the left-hand bottom row is grouped by letters and the left-hand top row is numbered, the pair of octaves in the mbira dza vadzimu are: 1-A, 2-D, 3-C, 4-E, 5-F whereas in the njari and nyunganyunga the octaves are generally situated chronologically as follows: 1-A, 2-B or 3-C. In a nyunganyunga tuned in A, the group of octaves from the right to the left is G#-F#-E-A-E-F#-G# and in the njari is B-C#-D-E-F#-G-A-G-F#-E-D-C#-B. Therefore, the tonic and the lowest note (A) is found in the middle and opens up to a diatonic scale on the right and left side for the njari and nyunganyunga.

Figure 2.3 Njari made by Edgar Bera at the Mbira Republic, Harare 26 Reconsidering the Colonial Archive

Figure 2.4 Mbira dza Vadzimu or Nhare made by Edgar Bera at the Mbira Republic, Harare

The mbira matepe (also hera) is related to the mbira nhare with regard to the right-hand scale, although the matepe has wider range of notes (one more octave than the dza vadzimu or nhare on the right side). The left side is different to any other mbira given that it is not paired in octaves but also based on single notes such as the right hand side from the mbira nhare. Further, on the left side, the tonic note is the fourth reed on the top row and in the nhare it is the first note on the top row (Figure 2.5). This point coheres with Andrew Tracey’s observation on the difference between the hera and dza vadzimu (or nhare):

When considering the additions, six notes on the left and four on the right, it is interesting to note that the tonal function of the reeds has altered between mbira dza vadzimmu and hera. Whereas on the mbira dza vadzimmu the reeds numbered 1 and 4 are the main tonal centres, this function is taken over on the hera primarily by 4 and 7 note always a fourth apart. (A. Tracey, 1972: 93) Colonial Creation of Shona Musical Identity 27

Figure 2.5 Mbira Matepe made by Chaka Chawasarira in Chitungwiza, Harare

The different types of mbiras are related harmonically although the order of the notes is placed in different ways for each mbira.

Kubik and Andrew Tracey on the Shona Chord Cadence Beyond the Mashonaland: Bichords and Melodic Intervals Andrew Tracey (1972: 95) added that most of the Shona mbira songs are based on bichords of fifths or fourths. The Shona-mbira chord sequence to analyse the mbira repertoire suggested by Tracey appears as follows: A-C- F-F/A-D-F-F/B-D-F-F/A-C-E-E; as a result, under bichords of fifths (and sometimes fourths) the cadence is: AE-CG-FC-FC/AE-DA-FC-F/BF-DA- FC-FC/AE-CG-EB-EB. Andrew Tracey’s video, Mbira: The Technique of the Mbira dza Vadzimu (A. Tracey and Zantzinger, 1999a) explains the use of fifths and octaves in the Shona-mbiras played by Ephat Mujuru which reconsiders the territorialisation of Shona mbira in Mashonaland in relation to the harmonic and melodic study of Shona-mbira music. 28 Reconsidering the Colonial Archive This harmonic observation serves to mention Kubik’s (1988: 43) study on the melodic intervals of fourths, fifths, and octaves in Shona and Nsenga music which are also found in Western Mozambique, Malawi, southern Zam- bia, and Zimbabwe. Kubik argues that these melodic intervals could have originated from the San peoples’ music which may date back to 300–400 CE. Kubik alludes to the melodic intervals found in his research on the mouth bow played by the San people in south-eastern Angola and western Zambia (ibid.: 44). This theory based on melodic intervals is also supported by Tracey’s Shona chord sequence.

It has often been observed that the Shona system is rooted in distinc- tively harmonic ideas (A. Tracey, 1961: 50, 1970: 40, 1972: 90–104) based on fourths, fifths, and octaves. (Kubik, 1988: 66)

It would be uncertain to support that the Shona chord cadence previously comes from the San people only by the use of fifths and octaves or by the homogenisation of the mbira repertoire through Shona chord cadence. Andrew Tracey (2015: 137) mentions that Kubik’s theory regarding the origin of mbira melodic intervals is unproven; however, Tracey reconsiders the possibility of an ancient “Khoi/Shona cross-fertilisation” (ibid.). The musical studies by Kubik (1988) or Tracey (1989, 2015) offer a study on mbira music based on musical analysis; the study on cultural interactions and mobility in southern Africa is as important as the musical study (as an aesthetic value) beyond colonial borders. However, none of these studies yet aims to demonstrate the mobility of music along vast geographic areas in Africa through a social context that lead to social interaction and cultural exchanges.

Andrew Tracey’s Visual Ethnographies and Educational Book on How to Play the Mbira dza Vadzimu Apart from the musicological studies on Shona-mbiras through melodic similarities and the “Shona chord finder”, Andrew Tracey also collaborated with Zantzinger’s ethnographic videos on the study of two gwenyambiras (mbira masters): Gwanzura Gwenzi and Hakurotwi Mudhe. These videos show the mbira spiritual world observed by two gwenyambiras during colonial times in Southern Rhodesia in 1975. Furthermore, these videos screen the different stages of how the mbira is essential for the bira ceremonies in order to communicate with the ancestors or for rainmaking purposes. Colonial Creation of Shona Musical Identity 29 During these documentaries, Andrew Tracey interviews the two mbira players and their connection with the instrument spiritually. Hakurotwi Mudhe explains how through mbira music, the spirits helped him to work and to earn money to send his children to school. The documentary also shows the different stages in which Mudhe participates in urban and rural bira ceremonies. The documentary exposes general features of the bira ceremony such as the spirit possession, the proverbs singing (kudeketera), brewed beer drinking, or the playing of the mbira and the hosho (shakers). In Gwenzi’s documentary, the translations from Shona to English by Gwenzi provide valuable explanations of the meaning of bira ceremonies for him such as the importance of communicating with the ancestors for prosperity and spiritual harmony. In the abovementioned documentaries, far from being specific about the lives of two gwenyambiras, Andrew Tracey tends to generalise about Shona-mbira cosmogony and the rituals as homogenous in the mbira world in Mashonaland. To a certain extent, the problem of generalising about the lives of gwenyambiras as deeply spiritual provides another form of exotica towards the study of mbira music and its cultural context in Mashonaland. For instance, as observed in the following chapters (see Chapter Three), many mbira players interviewed during my research are not conditioned by the spiritual connotations of the mbira nhare. As part of Andrew Tracey’s homogenisation of the mbira repertoire and its cultural understanding, he also published the book How to Play Mbira dza Vadzimu (1970) in which he transcribed five mbira dza vadzimu (or mbira nhare) songs into Western notation and one Venda mbira track. Andrew Tracey also explains how to tune the notes of the mbira dza vadzimu in West- ern notation. Andrew Tracey’s book on how to play the mbira nhare became a valuable contribution for mbira learners across the world, particularly for the West- erners interested in mbira music. For instance, the mbira tunes that appear in Andrew Tracey’s book are taught at many universities across the world such as ‘Taireva’, ‘Nhemamusasa’, ‘Nyamaropa’, or ‘Mudande’. However, like in Andrew Tracey’s book, ILAM’s recordings are not used to emphasise how the mbira nhare songs abovementioned are melodically and harmonically related to other Shona mbiras and mbiras from various southern African countries. On the other hand, Andrew Tracey also mentions that it is important the possibility of being taught by a gwenyambira in order to follow the different polyrhythms created by the various mbira patterns played simultaneously within the same song. During my time as a mbira nhare student, my gwenyambira teachers (Chartwell Dutiro, Debby Korfmacher, Manuel Jimenez, 30 Reconsidering the Colonial Archive Linos Magaya, and Edgar Bera) also emphasised the importance of tempo in order to play the different variations on the “right time”. In general, Tracey’s studies on mbira are essential for the future dialogue of mbira studies in contrast to the postcolonial narratives given that he intro- duces mbira music to a non-Shona audience by analysing mbira music from a Western perspective and by adding local musical terms such as kutsinhira or kushaura (“call and response” melodies).

Conclusion The creation of Shona identity by the colonial institutions served to create ethnic and linguistic homogenisation that consequently affected the categorisation of ILAM’s recordings and the study of mbira music. The study of the different types of Shona mbiras has provided an in-depth analysis of how the demarcated areas of Shona dialects structured the classification ofmbira s by ILAM. Hugh and Andrew Tracey also provided an extensive analysis of Shona- mbiras based on Western musical aesthetics such as intervallic considerations of heptatonic and hexatonic Shona-mbiras; documentaries on bira ceremonies in urban and rural contexts; and Andrew Tracey’s book on learning how to play mbira nhare. The tribalisation of southern Africa is assumed by the sound archive in order to classify instruments and scales. Within an ethnicised area of research, the notion of cultural border crossing is understood by the colonial agents who provide a “sense of boundaries” (Shimoni, 2006: 217). The notion of border through tribal demarcations also provides territorialisations of music that provoke the appearance of territorialised musical traditions; furthermore, if there are inter-tribal interactions between two territorialised communities within the Shona community, they are defined as part of the Shona mbira culture, while their ethnicity is never contested by ILAM and rather reinforced by their categorisation of lamellophones. In the following, Chapter Three debates the territorialisation of mbira music in Mashonaland by Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence and how it is later contested by mbira players in Zimbabwe.

Notes 1 The classification of instruments through organology is based on: idiophones (percussive instruments played with any type of drumsticks including shakers and xylophones), membranophones (percussive instruments played with the hands such as djembes or cajon), chordophonoes (string instruments either bowed or plucked), and aerophones (wind instruments). In the case of the mbiras, they are classified as lamellophones, the only family of instruments categorised as originally coming Colonial Creation of Shona Musical Identity 31 from Sub-Saharan Africa. The lamellophones refers to the lamellas (metal keys or reeds) and are generally performed with the index and thumb fingers. 2 For the specific classification ofmbira s by Andrew Tracey read “The Original Afri- can Mbira?” (1972: 87). 3 For the specific tunings of Zimbabweanmbira s see Andrew Tracey, “The Original African Mbira?” (1972: 90–98). 3 An Attempt to Link Colonial and Postcolonial

NarrativesReconsidering the Colonial ArchiveLinking Colonial and Postcolonial Narratives Andrew Tracey’s “Shona Chord Finder” and the Mbira Country Beyond Borders

This chapter reconsiders the musicological studies by Andrew Tracey on Shona mbira music and, in particular, the creation of his “Shona chord cadence” which reveals the circulation of harmonic systems related to Shona mbiras in other countries from southern Africa (A. Tracey, 1970: 42). In the attempt of linking colonial and postcolonial narratives regarding the study of mbira music in southern Africa, this chapter provides a platform for finding ways of studying the musical mobility of certain lamellophones in a wider geographical context beyond colonial borders. In this chapter, the concept of regionalism helps to reconsider the circulation of Andrew Tracey’s “Shona chord cadence” in southern Africa through archival research at ILAM and ethnographic research with mbira players in Zimbabwe.

Shona-Mbira Music Beyond Mashonaland Musical systems have always challenged the concept of nationhood. For instance, Andalusi music originated by Ziryab in Spain in the ninth century and, after the reconquista, the foundations of Andalusi music based on the nubah spread, and are now performed in Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia (Schuyler, 1978: 33). Similarly, in the case of jeli music, commonly known as griot music, from the Mande Empire, they perform a musical repertoire mostly based on Lydian, Mixolydian, and Major scales on the ngoni, bala- phon, and Kora in Mali, Senegal, Gambia, Guinea, or Burkina Faso, among other countries (Charry, 2000). Thus, musical systems circulate beyond the notion of nationhood or ethnic and linguistic divisions.

The Mbira Country, Circulation, and the Concept of Regionalism In a recent Andrew Tracey publication (2015: 127), he created a region called the “Mbira country” covering certain areas of five southern African Linking Colonial and Postcolonial Narratives 33

Figure 3.1 Andrew Tracey’s “Shona Chord Finder” in F countries: South Africa, Zimbabwe, Mozambique, Malawi, and Zambia. The mbira country is based on the use of heptatonic mbiras using the Shona chord cadence (except mbira Ndau). Therefore, the idea of a mbira country is useful to examine Andrew Tracey’s studies on mbira music related to the Shona chord cadence (ibid.). The concept of regionalism helps to contextualise ethnomusicological studies based on a certain musical style and its contextualisation beyond present geographical borders or within present national boundaries. The concept of regionalism also suggests that musical identity evolves under different historical periods and how certain musical styles grow in popularity within different regions of a country, such as samba in Brazil (Lamen, 2011), the transcultural identity of kwaito during post-apartheid South Africa (Steingo, 34 Reconsidering the Colonial Archive 2010), the study of regional music after the Communist Period in the Bal- kans (Samson, 2013), or Flamenco regional identity in southern Spain during Spanish democracy since 1978 (Machin-Autenrieth, 2015). Prior to the completion of this book, the concept of regionalism helped me to question postcolonial nationhood through a musical system called the Haul modes and how this musical system is used differently by West- ern Saharawis politically and by Mauritanians culturally (Gimenez Amoros, 2012). The concept of regionalism was also useful to analyse how the Haul modes are specifically used by the Western Saharawis through traditional instruments (tidinit and tebal) and electric guitars. As another example of how the concept of regionalism offers an understanding of the interaction between a traditional instrument and the electric guitar for the musical innovation of musical styles in African nations, Muller (2004: 132) examines how the music from Nguni musical bows from southern Africa inspired Maskanda guitarists in the province of KwaZulu-Natal in South Africa. Muller proposes that the two fundamental notes from many Nguni bows (either C or D) in South Africa (mainly from the IsiXhosa bow, the uhadi) are one of the foundations of many maskanda songs played with the guitar. Thus, Muller’s notion of regionalism links a precolonial family of bow instruments with a colonial/postcolonial musical style mostly performed by Zulu migrants that left home to work in the mines, maskanda music. Mul- ler suggests that maskanda music—as a Zulu or regional musical style from South Africa—is rooted in a wider geographical area or “musical bows country” in southern Africa (ibid.). Similarly, Andrew Tracey is able to name the mbira country beyond Mashonaland. This book also examines how the mbira musical culture cir- culates within the mbira country in Zimbabwe. The interest of this research in Shona-mbira music, and more specifically in Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence, is based on the regional circulation of such music in southern Africa, in particular, through the examination of mbira recordings from Zim- babwe, Malawi, Zambia, Mozambique, and South Africa found at ILAM. 1 Thus, I argue that the concept of regionalism not only applies to African people that circulate in different African regions, but in addition, regionalism emerges as an ancient form of cultural coexistence either in a cosmopolitan- urban environment or in rural postcolonial spaces. From a musicological point of view, I use regionalism to transport Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence into a postcolonial narrative regarding mbira studies and, therefore, to demonstrate that Tracey’s studies on mbira music offer an introduction to a musical system circulating in various mbiras in Zimbabwe and beyond in southern Africa. Thus, by using the notion of regionalism, I do not intend to crystallise the history of mbira musical culture as an old form of African-ness, Linking Colonial and Postcolonial Narratives 35 but to question Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence and its circulation in southern Africa. I argue that regionalism can be both the circulation of the familiar and the un-familiar musical culture within the development of the mbira harmonic cadences given that, during my archival research, Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence is contested as not-static because there are different melodic intervals and musical developments in the areas where Andrew Tracey applied the “Shona chord finder”. Furthermore, considering the notion of the un-familiar within regionalism, I assert that there are musical realities non-related to Andrew Tracey’s chord cadence that should be addressed as a form of understanding new forms of regionalism in mbira studies in southern Africa. This chapter reveals that regionalism is not only a form of understanding musical innovation and new postcolonial cultural and social developments in a regional context, but that it is also a platform in which musical innovation and mbira musical development can be analysed. The following chapter offers a musicological analysis of Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence with mbira examples found at ILAM, interviews with mbira players on the circulation of mbira music, and a critical analysis on the notion of regionalism to address postcolonial narratives of Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence.

The “Shona Chord Finder”: The Dichotomy of Territorialisation and Mobility in Southern African Musical Studies Andrew Tracey (1970: 40) designed the “Shona chord finder/cadence” in order to demonstrate harmonic similarities between different Shona mbiras (Figure 3.1). These harmonic commonalities are based on a cyclical chord sequence in ternary rhythm for the song ‘Nhemamusasa’: CEAA/CFAA/ DFAA/CEGG. Andrew Tracey also examined this cyclical chord sequence with melodic intervals 1–3–4/3–4–3/4–3–3/3–3–3. In 1970, Tracey shows evidence of the “Shona chord finder” in thembira matepe songs (assigned to the Kore Kore people by ILAM), ‘Msengu’ and ‘Kari Muchipfuwa’. During my musical analysis of ILAM’s mbira recordings, I found other Shona mbira songs that share the chord cadence of Andrew Tracey’s “Shona chord finder” in different mbiras, such as ‘Shumba’ (‘lion’) on mbira huru, ‘Chaminuka Teera Wambwe’ (‘Chaminuka follows others’) in njari, or ‘Nyamaropa’ on mbira dza vadzimu or nhare. Additionally, among mbira songs that share Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence, there are certain melodic changes such as in the njari song ‘Gorombe Yawakaru’ (‘Gorombe of the elders’) cadence AECC/AFCC/DFAA/AEGG in which the tonic note 36 Reconsidering the Colonial Archive C (major) is replaced by A producing a minor harmonic effect from a Western harmonic view.2 Hugh Tracey and Andrew Tracey analysed the mbira tuning systems by measuring the intervals with cents.3 As an example of tuning variations within the Shona chord cadence, in the mbira matebe dza mondoro song ‘Musengu’ (1958), this song shows slight melodic differences (in cents) from Andrew Tracey’s “Shona chord finder”. Further to this, many of ILAM’s mbira recordings suffer melodic changes from Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence such as ‘Zimbige’ or ‘Muzazaranda’ by the njari player Tawagaza Sibanda (Chibi, 1958); ‘Nheura’ by the njari player Chabarwa Musunda Sinyoro (Salisbury, 1949); ‘Shangara’ by the njari player Manyoni Wanyamande (Gwelo, 1949); ‘Gorombeya wakuru’ and ‘Ziriya’ by the njari player Saimoni Mashoka (Buhera, 1949); ‘Sherekta Msango’ by the njari players Manyoni Zhou, Saimoni Mashoko Shawa and two women (Chilimanzi district, 1950); ‘Mai Wa Aruna’ by the mbira huru James Gwezhe Soko (Goromonze district, 1951); and some of the melodic variations played by Stephen R. Gumbo (Fort Victoria, 1958). During my archival research, I also found a melodic approximation to Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence (C-E-A-A/C-F-A-A/D-F-A-A/ C-E- G-G) in other mbira recordings from Mozambique, Malawi, Zambia, or South Africa. For instance, I found Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence in the Venda mbira deza recordings from South Africa, ‘Bidera’ (Sibasa, 1959): C-E-E-E/C-F-F-F/D-F-F-E/C-G-F-E, and in the recordings of kankowela mbira from Zambia, ‘Muzimu Wandiyanda Moyo’ or ‘Zakanaka Musikana E Yeye’ (Gwembe district, 1957) EEEC-FFAD-FFDB-EEDC. Another example of harmonic similarities with Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence is found in the Sena/Nyungwe mbira dza mondoro recordings from Nyasaland (Malawi). In particular, the songs ‘Kusambare’ and ‘Famba Mpore Usadngana Mumbuyo’ (Bulolo, Chiromo district, 1958) the vocal part harmonically connects with Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence: ECBA/ FDCB/FDBB/CECA.4 As part of my archival research, I also found the use of certain melodic phrases from Andrew Tracey’s chord cadence. As an example, in the mbira deza recording, ‘Marambeliwa Tiwafuni’ (Sibasa, 1959), three melodic phrases from Andrew Tracey’s chord cadence are used in C-E-E-E/C-F-F-F/D-F-F-E. Furthermore, I also found songs that use certain chord cadences from Andrew Tracey’s “Shona chord finder”; in particular, there are songs in eight beats where the chord cadence is similar to the first and fourth phrase from Andrew Tracey’s chord cadence (CEAA/CEGG) such as in ‘Mohodo’ (mbira deza from South Africa, Sibasa, 1959); in ‘China Mureya’ (kalimba song from Mozambique, Pondola, 1958); or in ‘Chiterere Chanakazi’, ‘Chipungu’, and ‘Nensonde Nyama Nyawonga’ (kalimba songs from Zambia, Petauke 1957). Linking Colonial and Postcolonial Narratives 37 As a case in point, there are also mbira recordings from Zimbabwe in eight beats such as ‘Tambara Ndikutumbure Munzwa Iwe’ (Buhera, 1949), ‘Munyepi’ (Chilimanzi district 1950) or ‘Chirombo Woye Nditerere Muzeze’ (Muzeze, 1951). These songs also share certain melodic phrases from Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence. The Shona chord cadence is an approximation to the study of mbira music in Andrew Tracey’s mbira country because ILAM’s mbira recordings reveal that cyclical songs developed differently in certain geographic areas in southern Africa. With regard to how Andrew Tracey’s studies on mbira music suggest different forms of regionalism, the Shona chord cadence provides a platform for musical analysis based on the principals to both question the territorialisation of mbira music through ethnic and linguistic classification of the colonial mapping in Africa, and to question the mobility of the “Shona chord finder” through different melodic variations in southern Africa. The dichotomy between territorialisation and mobility provides the link between colonial and postcolonial narratives regarding mbira studies in southern Africa.

Andrew Tracey’s Mbira Country and the Ndau Exception The mbiras mentioned above are related to the Shona chord cadence except the mbira Ndau (within Mashonaland). Andrew Tracey did not conduct an in-depth analysis of the music from this hexatonic mbira. For this reason, the mbira Ndau recordings from ILAM do not fall under the ethnic or linguistic categorisations by the sound archive regarding Shona music. The mbira Ndau player, Solomon Madinga (interviewed 29 February, 2016), asserts that the mbira Ndau is also related to Nguni music from the Zulus (South Africa), Ndebeles (Zimbabwe), or the Shangaans (Mozambique), rather than just to Shona music, because most Nguni music also uses one or two chords variations such as traditional uhadi music or maskanda guitar. Like in other Nguni music, many of the mbira Ndau recordings found at ILAM tend to be composed of one or two tonic notes in a binary rhythm. For instance, ‘Mwana We’ (Mt. Selinda, Chipinge, 1955) is based on E while the melodic variations use the notes E-G-A-B. In ‘Madanga Ende Kujero’ (Sipungabera in Manyika district, 1957) the tonic note in A# with variations in G-A#-C-D-F. ‘Ndaka Nyanya Kushata Mai Weu’ (Sipungabera in Man- yika district, 1957) also uses one main note in A # with falsetas (or melodic variations) in the hexatonic scale G-A#-C-D-F. In relation to the mbira Ndau technique, one of the main differences between the mbira Ndau and other Shona mbiras is that the Ndau technique consists of playing the rhythm part on the right hand instead of the left hand like in the njari, mbira nhare, nyunganyunga, and matepe. For a mbira player 38 Reconsidering the Colonial Archive that is used to playing Andrew Tracey’s mbira chord cadence with other Shona mbiras, the mbira Ndau technique is challenging because it is not related to the ‘Nhemamusasa’ cyclical pattern mbira Ndau but rather has its own technique. Regarding the musical structure of the mbira Ndau recordings from ILAM, Madinga also affirms that the mbira Ndau is mostly played individ- ually in contrast to other Shona mbiras that are played with call-response (kushaura and kutsinhira) variations simultaneously. This point coheres with Perman’s (2015: 121) studies on mbira Ndau by saying that he only found two recordings where there are more than one mbira Ndau players performing simultaneously. During my time learning how to play the mbira Ndau with Madinga, he addressed three main musical styles on the mbira Ndau: zomba, kware, and madindingandi. Zomba’s variations are based on two main chords (C-F), and this musical style is related to the Ndau people’s style in south-eastern Zimbabwe at the border with Mozambique. Kware is the fastest style and is related to the Ndaus from Mozambique. Madindingandi is based on an I-IV-V variation and it is associated with the Ndaus near the South African border. After learning the three main styles through Madinga, I came to the realisation that most of the mbira Ndau recordings at ILAM are also related to these styles. For instance, in the four-part song ‘Mandowa’ (Makulane, 1954), part one is in madindingandi, part two is a kware variation, and part four is a zomba variation. Regarding the cultural aspects of the mbira Ndau, for Solomon Madinga (interviewed 29 February, 2016), he notes that the mbira Ndau is played for entertainment in comparison with the other Shona mbiras which are more related to be performed for spiritual purposes such as the bira ceremony. For instance, the kware style is used to play children’s games such as finding hid- den objects while the mbira plays high notes if the child is close to the object.

Mbira Players’ Views on the “Shona Chord Finder” and the Circulation of Mbira Music Beyond Mashonaland In order to question Andrew Tracey’s “Shona chord finder” from a local perspective, during 2015–2016, I conducted interviews with twenty-two Zim- babwean mbira players (professional performers and ethnomusicologists). These interviews provided multiple sources of oral history and academic literature from which the mobility of Andrew Tracey’s chord finder is contested. These interviews demonstrate that the understanding of the circulation of the “Shona chord finder” by insiders is far from being monolithic or unidirectional, opening up discussion around subjects such as the different Linking Colonial and Postcolonial Narratives 39 possibilities of the origins of the mbira as informed by the interviews, the mbira as an instrument designed to perform certain songs with particular harmonic and melodic cadences, Andrew Tracey’s “Shona chord finder” and the harmonic homogenisation of the mbira repertoire, and the notion of regionalism to inform about the mobility of Andrew Tracey’s “Shona chord finder” for future studies on the mobility of mbira music in particular areas of southern Africa. a) Development of the Mbira Repertoire and Functionality of Mbira Music The origins of the mbira are widely contested by different mbira players and they provide multiple interpretations of the notion of mobility and regionalism on mbira studies. Chawasarira (a mbira matepe player that met Andrew Tracey in Mount Darwin in the 1970s) agrees with Andrew Tracey (1972: 89) by saying that the origins of the mbira come from the eight to fifteen keys nyunganyunga mbira (or karimba) in the Zambezi river in central-northern Mozambique and gradually spread through southern Malawi, the Tonga Valley in eastern Zambia, Zimbabwe, and down to Limpopo in South Africa (interviewed 29 January, 2016). Regarding the origins of the mbira repertoire with the Shona chord cadence, Andrew Tracey also added that the development of the “mbira repertoire” possibly occurred in the Monomotapa kingdoms during the fifteenth century.5

The Korekore and Zezuru, together with the Manyika and Karanga (who formerly played the mbira dza vadzimu) are closely related members of the Shona language group, bound not only by language but also by their common history of passage through the period of the Zimbabwe and Monomotapa kingdoms. Given the political importance of spirit mediums, at present diminished or dormant, but traditionally great, and the central position occupied in their rites by the mbira, we may guess at the importance of the mbira during those periods. (A. Tracey, 1972: 94)

Chawasarira disagreed with Andrew Tracey (2015: 131) about the origins of the mbira repertoire based on the “mbira huru with the 13th to the 15th century Zimbabwe kingdom and then matepe/hera with the Munhumutapa kingdom in the 15th and 16th century”. In particular, regarding the development of the mbira repertoire in Mashonaland, before the mbira huru, 40 Reconsidering the Colonial Archive Chawasarira emphasised that the first mbiras were made out of bamboo and not metal keys; therefore, it is very uncertain to centralise the development the mbira repertoire in the Munhumutapa kingdom. For Chawasarira, the possible origins of the Shona chord cadence is rather unknown, although one can realistically note that through the study of ILAM’s recordings, mbira tunes with harmonic and melodic relationships circulated along Zimbabwe and southern Africa in the 1940s (interviewed 29 January, 2016). For Chawasarira, the main important feature that relates to the origins of the Shona mbiras (except Ndau) and their repertoire is based on its spiritual communication with the ancestors either for rain-making ceremonies or for traditional gatherings. A general characteristic of all the Shona mbiras (except Ndau) is that the songs have to be performed for the great spirits and chiefs of the area. As an example, Chawasarira explains that the Shona chord cadence is used to sing different regional spirits by saying that ‘Nhe- mamusasa’ is the name of a song in some Zezuru areas; in Mondoro (Nyan- doro) ‘Nhemamusasa’ could be called Shumba or Bangidza; and Msengu or Chendjedza in some Kore Kore areas (interviewed 3 February, 2016). Therefore, the ‘Nhemamusasa’ pattern or Andrew Tracey’s chord cadence obtains multiple meanings according to the socio-spatial context and the influence of different ancestors in the areas of study. In addition to the specific contextualisation of the Shona mbiras, accord ing to Chawasarira, it is important to point out that mbira songs for bira ceremonies are created by the spirits and cannot be owned by people. Cha- wasarira noted that during the bira ceremonies there are four types of spirits: national spirits such as Chaminuka and Nehanda; clan spirits according to the totem (lion, baboon, etc.); family spirit (grandmother, father, etc.); leisure spirits (mashavi), the ones that can dance to any music (mermaids, etc.), who are the ones that usually want to break the calabash in which the mbira is performed.6 As part of Chawasarira’s statement about the origins of the mbira based on the ancestors, he noted that he was taught by the spirits to play the mbira and, for this reason, the origins of mbira should be related to the different types of spirits that own the songs. During my research in Zimbabwe, other mbira players agreed with Chawasarira’s view about the origins of the mbira related to the ancestors such as Nagalande, Tarupihwa, Masasi, and Joyce. In contrast, although Gwenzi mentions that mbira comes in his dreams, he does not believe that mbira players can learn it through dreams but by learning it with gwenyambiras such as his teacher at Nyandoro (A. Tracey and Zantzinger 1999b). Thus, the origins of the mbira repertoire related to spirits is agreed upon by different mbira players; however, the learning of the mbira songs is not always believed to be provided by the spirits. Linking Colonial and Postcolonial Narratives 41 Given that the development of the mbira repertoire was based on the spiritual functionality of using the mbira in bira ceremonies, Chawasarira notes that there was not a classification of mbiras according to ethnic or linguistic groups. Chawasarira commented on mbira players that included matepe’s notes to njaris or mbira nhares such as Simon Mashoko (interviewed 2 Feb- ruary, 2016). As a case in point, at ILAM, one can find a mbira collection in which there are mbira “hybrids” such as a mbira nhare with extra keys on the left row in a similar way to the mbira matepe. It shows that the mbiras are not ethnically demarcated and mbira players were aware of the possible ways in which additional keys would provide new sounds to the songs performed in the Shona mbiras for playing to the ancestors. Regarding ancient mbira songs, Andrew Tracey (2015: 132) mentions ‘Bangidza ra Mutota’ which refers to “the ruler of the Zimbabwe Kingdom in the fifteenth century” and/or ‘Mutamba’ related to the spirit of Chaminuka. However, as previously noted by Chawasarira, the songs ‘Bangidza’ or ‘Mutamba’ may only refer to a specific spiritual region of precolonial Zim- babwe such as Mondoro (see Chapter Five). b) The Mbira as an Instrument Designed to Play Andrew Tracey’s Shona Chord Cadence In conversation with Perminus Matiure (interviewed 13 February, 2016), the Zimbabwean scholar and mbira player expressed that he believed that Zim- babwean mbiras (except Ndau) were designed to play certain tunes and the keys were positioned accordingly to facilitate the performance of songs such as ‘Nhemamusasa’ or songs related to Andrew Tracey’s “Shona chord finder”. During my time in Gweru, the mbira maker, Almon Moyo, also emphasised that the origins of the Shona-mbiras should not only be related to any form of spiritual connotation (interviewed 13 February, 2016). In contrast, he added that the origins of the mbira should be also related to the ingenious human beings who were able to build mbiras and tuned them accordingly in order to perform simultaneously. Almon Moyo expressed that many historians have overemphasised the mbira as an exotic and spiritual instrument rather than valuing the making of the instrument based on the technical capability of human beings to make mbiras. Therefore, as noted by Moyo, the mbira can be the result of instrument making and experimenting with different materials and tunings. The wide geographical space in which the Shona chord cadence is performed offers the historical possibility of many mbiras being interconnected 42 Reconsidering the Colonial Archive by the experimentation of tunings and of positioning the metal keys differently in order to perform similar harmonic cadences in southern African countries. The experimentation of mbira making helped both to design different mbiras to perform certain songs and for the ongoing innovation of mbiras such as Matiure’s guitar-mbira found at Midlands State Uni- versity. Therefore, either through spiritual intervention or human manufacture, the mbiras gradually became interconnected through musical similarities such as chord cadences and songs related to specific regional ancestors. c) Mobility of Mbira Musical Culture in Particular Areas of Southern Africa Landau’s (2010) notion of mobility in southern Africa during colonial and precolonial times notes that:

From at least 1400 on, South Africa’s indigenous political traditions developed out of a wider connective process bringing people and ideas together over long distances, Venda, Shona, Sechuana, foreign. There was one big thing, not lots of little things, going on. (72)

Landau demonstrates that there was mobility between different communities in which trading and coexistence was part of a non-tribalised concept of southern Africa. Landau (2010: 72) continues by saying that during the late iron age (200–1600 CE), the way to make pottery and building techniques were similar along the Zambezi river and the red Kalahari, among other places in southern Africa. Landau uses the colonial archive in order to reconsider the mobility of detribalised southern Africa while colonialism was having a deep impact in the area. In contrast to the mobilisation of history, Landau uses different colonial archives to decipher the mobility and international trade between the locals and other communities in southern Africa as a non-tribalised area before colonialism. As an example, Landau mentions that during 800 CE one finds international trading of Indonesian chickens in southern Africa and herder’s settlements, therefore, there was an international trade through the Indian Ocean between different communities:

Should we be surprised if the Indian Ocean trade system had something further to do with people’s politics over the succeeding half mil- lennium? International commerce helped generate the magnificent rule Linking Colonial and Postcolonial Narratives 43 of Mapungubwe, Toutswemogala, Great Zimbabwe, and other centres which developed centres of inclusion. (72)

Landau’s notion of mobility supports the possibility that the Shona chord cadence spread through other areas of southern Africa, which may reveal that musical culture and trading occurred even during colonial times when Hugh Tracey recorded from the 1930s to the 1970s for the ILAM archive. Considering social and cultural mobility on mbira music in southern Africa, ILAM’s recordings have demonstrated that the use of lamellophones had certain similarities including: eight- or sixteen-beat cyclical songs (for Andrew Tracey, it would be twenty-four or forty-eight pulses because each beat contains three pulses); the approach to Andrew Tracey’s “Shona chord finder”; the comparative study between Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence; and intervallic differences with other mbiras in Mashonaland and southern Africa. The mobility and development of mbira musical culture also depended on the totemic functional system in which the Shumba (lion) totem represented the vast majority of spiritual mediums along present Mashonaland. Given that many spiritual activities required mbira music, it suggests that many gwenyambiras (mbira masters) were from the Shumba totem although this is a vague assumption. On the other hand, as noted by Bera during many of our conversations in Zimbabwe and South Africa (interviewed 9 February, 2016), totemic functional systems prevented intermarriages between the same totem (clan) and referred to not being allowed to eat one’s totem animal, or by denoting certain natural resources in the place of origin, such as the fish totem would suggest that there is a river or the zebra totem would suggest that there is a place of pasture (interviewed 9 February, 2016). The different mbiras and mbira repertoires are based on the result of a number of factors, such as cultural and social mobility through totemic functional systems, the manufacture of mbiras destined to perform certain songs, the functionality of mbira for bira ceremonies in certain areas of southern Africa, and the natural evolution of musical techniques by playing mbiras differently either for spiritual reasons or for entertainment (Figure 3.2). In addition to these historical considerations that reinforce the notion of mobility to develop different mbira repertoires in relation to Andrew Tracey’s chord finder, the impact of cosmopolitan styles such as blues, pop, reggae, or rock have also developed new ways of performing the mbira. Therefore, the notion of mobility informs about the past and present inter- relationships either with certain traditional repertoires, the advent of independence through chimurenga music, or the inclusion of mbira in cosmopolitan styles (see Part Two). 44 Reconsidering the Colonial Archive

Figure 3.2 Mbira Munyonga made by Edgar Bera at the Mbira Republic, Harare

Conclusion Archival research and conducting interviews with mbira players helped to reshape the notion of regionalism in the past and in the present evolution of mbira music in southern Africa. This chapter demonstrates that colonial and postcolonial narratives are linked to multiple forms of understanding the Shona-mbira repertoire by international and local scholars. Regionalism is useful to show the cultural circulation of the mbira repertoire beyond colonial borders. I have considered the de-territorialisation of mbira studies in order to bring awareness of the multiple musical and social realities that should be considered in the examination of mbira music in southern Africa and for future ethnomusicological studies considering the notion of musical circulation in the continent. However, the information provided by the mbira players has been essential to examine the specific forms in which regionalism occurs in mbira studies in Zimbabwe. This chapter has also questioned the homogenisation of the Shona-mbira repertoire through Andrew Tracey’s “Shona chord finder” by analysing the specific development of mbira music in Mashonaland by playing more than two mbira players simultaneously and tuned accordingly which is not found Linking Colonial and Postcolonial Narratives 45 in many other mbira recordings from southern Africa at ILAM. Addition- ally, ILAM’s recordings have been useful and essential to prove the non- static notion of music and harmonic familiarity in southern Africa as a social and cultural interaction in a wide geographical space. As a case in point, this chapter reveals how Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence relates to other heptatonic mbira songs from southern Africa found at ILAM’s recordings such as the deza (Valley Tonga and Venda), matebe dza mondoro (Sena/ Tonga), kankowela (Valley Tonga), or kalimba (Nsenga and Sena/Nyungwe).

Notes 1 For the completion of this chapter, I analysed 116 songs from ILAM’s Sound of Africa Series: Mbira Ndau, forty-eight songs; Njari, twenty-four songs; Kalimba Shona Karanga, five songs; Kalimba Sena mbira from Mozambique, two songs; Kankobela/ Kankowela from Valley Tonga, eight songs; Mbira deza from Valley Tonga, two songs; Matebe Dza Mhondoro, eleven songs; Mbira Karanga/Duma, five songs;Mbira Sena/Nyungwe, three songs; Mbira Venda from Limpopo (South Africa), four songs; and Mbira Huru Zezuru, two songs. One must note that the mbira Ndau does not include songs within the Shona chord cadence because this mbira is hexatonic. 2 In various conversations between Andrew Tracey and the author, Tracey affirmed that there are no major or minor keys in mbira music because it is based on fourths, fifths, and octaves while major and minor keys are rooted on thirds. 3 Tracey’s table of cents shows that the distance between an octave 1200 cents (twelve semitones). For melodic intervals, the measure is 100 cents for a semitone and 200 cents for a whole tone. Each mbira can have different melodic measures. For instance, Musikana Jaya (kalimba song), the distance between notes is 208– 184–299–199–179–131 in cents (H. Tracey, Vol. 1, 1973: 105). Hugh Tracey also measured the vibrations per second (VPS). Hugh Tracey used cents to draw a comparative study between Western classical music and mbira intervals and vibrations per second. In a comparative study with Western melodic intervals, Andrew Tracey (1970: 11) also shows the measure in cents of a mbira dza vadzimu intervals: G—A (-70)-B (-48)-C (-16)-D (+16)-E (-57)-F (-38)-G. Andrew and Hugh Tracey always affirmed that the tuning of thembira s slightly varies according to the player and the mbira maker; therefore, the measure of cents is not standardised. 4 This song can be a product of social mobility given that Tracey (Vol. 1, 1973: 190) cites that the performer of these songs, Zuake Gumbo, inherited his mbira from his father who lived south of the Zambesi near Sena. Therefore, there is a possibility that Gumbo played songs from other musical “traditions” related to his father’s musical heritage and not related to the Sena/Nyugwe in Malawi—in particular, because the song ‘Kusambare’ means “I have no relatives” which may enforce the idea of keeping a musical style from somewhere else where the recording took place. 5 Except for the karimba (or nyunganyunga), the other mbiras examined in this article are more related to the bira ceremonies and involves the communication with the ancestors through playing mbira. 6 For more information about cosmology and religion in southern Africa see Bernard (2010). 4 Lyrics and Reinterpretations

of Shona-Mbira RecordingsReconsidering the Colonial ArchiveLyrics and Reinterpretations of Shona-Mbira

Music archives are not only destined to preserve music but to interpret the sound and the historical connotations contained in the recordings. The reconsideration of ILAM’s recordings lies on the different forms in which the music is classified and categorised. In previous chapters, I have considered both the notion of Shona identity as a colonial creation, and how Andrew Tracey’s “Shona chord finder” produced a homogenisation of the Shona-mbira repertoire while, at the same time, it facilitated the possibility of studying the circulation of the mbira cyclical music in southern Africa. This chapter analyses the different classifications of Shona-mbira songs by Hugh Tracey in the Sound of Africa Series by song type, such as self- delectative, humorous, spiritual, dance, or wistful. The classification of song type provides a reconsideration of how songs would have been classified nowadays and, thus, this chapter offers a colonial and postcolonial interpretation of the archive through the notion of memory.

Hugh Tracey’s Notion of African Music and Memory Hugh Tracey noted that his desire was that his research be continued by future generations of African and international scholars from different dis- ciplines by saying that: “I can but hope that the information supplied in this catalogue will encourage others to continue their interest in African music and musicians throughout the continent” (Vol. 1, 1973: 3). Hugh Tracey catalogued ILAM’s recordings by providing the “recording site, language, the piece of music and the performer of each recording”. Thus, present scholars can revisit the places where ILAM recorded and even visit the musicians’ families. Regarding Hugh Tracey’s notion of memory, during his time, musicological studies were constructed under the notion of a continent artificially divided by colonial forces from which ILAM benefited, having received donations from colonial institutions such as The Rhodesian Selection Trust, the British South Africa Company, The Diamond Corporation Limited, and Lyrics and Reinterpretations of Shona-Mbira 47 Nchanga Consolidated Copper Mines, among others (Vol. 1, 1973: 7). Due to the permanent help of colonial actors to sustain ILAM’s sound archive, the notion of memory was conditioned by the approval of these colonial institutions in Africa. As Chikowero notes, Hugh “Tracey helped freeze African music into finite tribal musics in line with, and in the service of, the apartheid regime” (2015: 142). It is evident that Hugh Tracey hoped that ILAM’s archive could become a hub for research on African music by African scholars. However, Hugh Tracey never provided any criticism of the colonial institutions that perpetu- ated the ethnic and linguistic barriers created by NADA. In addition, Hugh Tracey never positioned himself or his work in relation to the political struggles of the continent. For this reason, the possibility of reconsidering the lyrical content and Hugh Tracey’s classification of mbira recordings offers another way of reinterpreting the sound archive. In the Sound of Africa Series Hugh Tracey classified songs as follows: children and young people; school songs; love songs; wedding songs; buri- als, wakes, and laments for dead; religious and superstitious pagan; native Christian churches; Christian churches; Mohammedan; divination and spir- itualism; social and political; morality songs; fighting and military; regimen- tal; indigenous armies; work or occupational songs; dance songs; etc. These categorisations were generally conditioned by Hugh Tracey’s colonial views on the relationship between “natives and settlers” or by ignoring any form of social tension. As an example, in the song ‘Tomujayi Muntu Mwana Mwanike Angu’ (Gwembe district, 1957), which translates as “don’t kill anyone, my brother’s son”, the singer advises a relative to not kill anyone otherwise he will end up in prison with ropes tied around his hands and feet (H. Tracey, Vol. 2, 1973: 79). However, Hugh Tracey does not specify how the act of killing refers to the singer advising his community about not killing in general or about not killing white institutions. The ambiguity of the message suggests that there is no sign of hate towards colonialism by any singer recorded by Hugh Tracey.

Memory and Critical Thinking The notion of memory is generally related to the construction of identity and representation of an individual, community, or nation. Through musical performances, the notion of memory provides a vital role in representing a musical culture that deals with aspects from the past and the present by individuals, communities, or countries. As an example, Susan Rasmussen states that:

Traditionally, memory has been identified with the local and the individual. Subsequently, there have been useful distinctions established 48 Reconsidering the Colonial Archive between personal (individual) memory, on the other hand, and collective memory, on the other. (2005: 796)

And

Cultural identity and memory are constructed in performance dialogically—though not always in equal or dyadic terms-and how these processes of intentional meaning-construction and negotiation impact the performers’ self presentation and cultural representation to the outside world. (2005: 795)

Rasmussen also asserts that memory not only provides a form of representing a musical culture outside its context but also offers a process of self- reflexivity in the performers regarding local history, cultural values, and musical aspects that reflect their particular notion of memory (ibid.: 797). Thus Rasmussen analyses how the representation of musical cultures and the notion of memory is firstly negotiated by musicians and later by local or international observers. Thus, in order to consider memory for the classification of ILAM’s recordings, it is important to consider the musicians’ critical thinking and the consequent collective interpretation of the song. As an example, in ‘Ngoma Yababa Kutamba Nayo’ (‘Father’s music for dancing with the spirits’, recorded in 1958 by the kalimba player Stephen Runeso Gumbo), the musician sings that through Christian hymns one cannot sing for the spirits. In this song, Gumbo’s critical thinking can be interpreted as a criticism against Christianity because it is imposed by colonialism and punishes the precolonial functionality of mbira performing for the ancestors. Therefore, through ‘Ngoma Yababa Kutamba Nayo’, Gumbo reports that colonial Christianism does not allow singing mbira songs for the spirits. ‘Ngoma Yababa Kutamba Nayo’ can thus be interpreted as a cultural and religious resistance against the colonial forces imposing Christianity, or as a mere observation advising Christian converts to respect local culture. The lyrics of ‘Ngoma Yababa Kutamba Nayo’ embody the converted and non-converted Zimbabweans into Christianity during the colonial period; therefore, it is able to link colonial and precolonial memory. At present, songs like ‘Ngoma Yababa Kutamba Nayo’ could be defined as “vehicles of memory” (Green, 2004: 36), firstly negotiated by the musician and later by locals (collective memory) or external interpretations. Regarding collective memory, Green adds that it deals with the “contra- dictions and complexities of people’s lives” and collective memory does not become static but always contested by other individuals or institutions (ibid.: Lyrics and Reinterpretations of Shona-Mbira 49 41). If one examines Gumbo’s ‘Ngoma Yababa Kutamba Nayo’ in relation to the present day, the mbira is defined as being related to precolonial beliefs, and is highly contested by many Zimbabwean churches provoking serious damage into the continuum of mbira musical culture and its belief system. Thus, ‘Ngoma Yababa Kutamba Nayo’ does not only link or challenge precolonial and colonial Shona identity but it also questions the use of mbira musical culture in postcolonial Shona identity. On the other hand, Hugh Tracey simply defines ‘Ngoma Yababa Kutamba Nayo’ as a dancing song from a mbira musician that works for the southern Rhodesian railways who starts singing a song for the midzimu (spirits) and later decides to play Christian hymns with his mbira. The different interpretations of memory contained in songs provides a clear idea of memory as non-static and as a useful link to colonial and postcolonial narratives regarding mbira songs. As a result, Rasmussen’s (2005: 795) notion of individual and collective memory as dialogically constructed through the musical and lyrical analysis of songs are asserted in this chapter. Far from crystallising memory in time and space through archival research, the sound archive provides the continuum of the social and the musical interaction in the colonial and postcolonial period. Therefore, the music is not only memory, but a vehicle of collective and personal memory (Green, 2004: 35).

The Categorisation of Mbira Song Type at ILAM: The Need to Reconsider the Lyrical Content In the following, I analyse mbira recordings that contain social and historical information about mbira musicians; however, these songs are simply categorised as party songs, self-delectative, laments, topical, or story-history songs by ILAM.1

Party Songs With regard to the party songs, I selected ‘Waramba Ukuma’ (‘He refused the relationship’). This song was recorded by the mbira matepe players Murira, Madzikuminga, and Madera in Mutoko in 1959. In ‘Waramba Ukuma’, the mbira players refer to Machinda, “the title given to the sons of the Monomo- tapa” since the sixteenth century (H. Tracey, Vol. 2, 1973: 176); therefore, this “party song” contains clear historical connotations that can be represented as oral memory within songs. More specifically, according to Hugh Tracey’s translation, the singer sings: “you refused friendship, Machinda/You refused friendship, it is worn out”. ‘Waramba Ukuma’ may speak of certain historical conflict with the sons of Monomotapa in Mutoko but, beyond speculations, this song transcends the notion of party song and individual memory. 50 Reconsidering the Colonial Archive ‘Waramba Ukuma’ may also be related to the relationship between the people and the Machindas (sons of Monomotapa) in Mutoko and how the mbira matepe players—Murira, Madzikuminga, and Madera—sing to the machindas for specific reasons in 1959. One of the social functions of themachinda s was to reassure that people pay their mutepo (tribute) with valuable goods such as cattle or gold (Mudenge, 1988: 19). Therefore, ‘Waramba Ukuma’ may be related to certain disappointment with the local machindas reclaiming their mutepo to the local people in Mutoko, thus defying its categorisation as a party song as noted by Hugh Tracey (Vol. 2, 1973: 176).

Story Songs The a capella song ‘Murumiwakaenda ku Harari’ (‘the man who went to Harari’, 1959) narrates the story of a man who went for three years to work in Salisbury and when he returned to Mtoko, he did not bring any money to his family (Vol. 2, 1973: 177). ‘Murumiwakaenda ku Harari’ is both a story and a history song. Through individual memory, the singer reflects the lives of many Zimbabweans that migrated to the segregated city of Salisbury (now Harare) for a better life and did not succeed. ‘Murumiwakaenda ku Harari’ also helps to contextualise the industrialisation of the country and how it provoked a considerable migration from rural areas to the city by many local people. Thus, ‘Murumiwakaenda ku Harari’ connects with the semiotic interaction between music and society. As a case in point, Harari can also refer to the first township built for black Zimbabweans in Salisbury in 1908, commonly known as Mbare in present Zimbabwe.

Topical Song The topical songs are part of “the ballads and all songs for general entertainment, including concerts” (H. Tracey, Vol. 1, 1973: 22). More specifically, topical songs are related to “local events, scandals, etc., with or without continuous theme”. As part of this categorisation, the mbira Ndau song ‘Ndinochema Amasebe’ (played by Mafiru Sitole in the Chipinga district in southeast Zimbabwe, 1957) describes the nostalgia and homesickness of the singer when he had to travel for working purposes in Sophia Town, South Africa (H. Tracey, Vol. 2, 1973: 8). In ‘Ndinochema Amasebe’, Sitole sings about the conditions as a carpenter in Sophiatown by saying: “See, I am cry- ing, mother-in-law/Poverty, elder brother, alack/See, Sophia Town is bad, Patisoni/In my distress, I think of home/Happiness to you all at Marange” (ibid.: 8). The song does not only express homesickness but Sitole’s condition as a black person from Chipinga that had to leave home for a “better” life in a segregated society in South Africa. Lyrics and Reinterpretations of Shona-Mbira 51 The sociological content of Sitole’s song transcends the notion of ballad or topical song. This song contains a first-hand narrative of many black Zimba- bweans migrating in the 1950s and even at present. ‘Ndinochema Amasebe’ connects with colonial and postcolonial narratives of migration and nostalgia for many Ndau people. As a case in point, my Ndau mbira teacher, Solomon Madinga, mentioned to me that he has crossed the border from Zimbabwe to South Africa seven times searching for a better future. Therefore, from a postcolonial point of view, ‘Ndinochema Amasebe’ is more than an entertainment or topical song.

Lament Song and the Flower’s Metaphor Sitole continues with a mourning song to his parents called ‘Rwe Rwe’ and translated as “flowers flowers”. This song contains a multidimensional meaning of the flowers metaphor for the composer. Firstly, Sitole speaks of how the children play with the flowers that are meant to be used for his father’s tragic death. Later, Sitole also uses the metaphor of the flowers for his mother who “walks in the shadow of death (literally walks bowed down)” (ibid.: 8). ‘Rwe Rwe’ could be classified as a social and emotional lament because of the death of Sitole’s father in poverty and by Sitole’s situation being far from home in Sophia Town. Another song that transcends the categorisation of lament song is Sitole’s ‘Hiyo Woye Busai-We’ (‘Hi Busai’). Sitole sings to his friend Busai about his poverty and how many troubles poverty causes in Sophia Town. Sitole is able to describe how he shares his social condition with Busai in Sophia Town. ‘Hiyo Woye Busai-We’ is a song of collective memory about Sophia Town sung in Ndau in order to communicate the message to his community. From Sitole’s songs, one can point out that Hugh Tracey was more concerned about Sitole’s music than his lyrical content and social situation.

Entertainment Song for Chiefs by Chabarwa Musunda Sinyoro At ILAM, there are many songs recorded by the njari player, Chabarwa Musunda Sinyoro. According to Hugh Tracey (Vol. 2, 1973: 387), Sinyoro is a njari player descending from a Portuguese (senhor) mulato that married the chief’s daughter and took the clan name Sinyoro in 1750. Sinyoro recorded different types of songs related to the entertainment of chiefs, to call spirits and drinking songs. From his recordings, there are two songs categorised as being entertainment for the chiefs: ‘Nheura’ and ‘Magonde’. Both songs contain relevant information for reinterpreting modern understandings of the social conditions of Zimbabwe during colonial times. In ‘Nheura’, Sinyoro states that 52 Reconsidering the Colonial Archive “there are women that wear skin aprons, but the cost of dresses spoil the country” or “You, women, the children of today are wicked. They only learn to be wasters” (H. Tracey, Vol. 2, 1973: 387). In ‘Nheura’, Sinyoro offers a social criticism about not valuing rural life by local people and about the possibility of living with less money without working in the city. Through ‘Nheura’, Sinyoro reconsiders the industrialisation of Zimbabwe and promotes rural life in order to entertain or to empower the chiefs and their “tribal land”. ‘Magonde’ is a song sung during royal functions with historical connotation against the Ndebele people:

Outside the village they are afraid of cutting the trees. The older men with beards interfere. It is only their beards which make them sorry people. The Ndebele want admiration all the time, and to pick and choose what they want they like from the cattle kraal. I am ugly but I am not a cannibal! I am ugly but I am not a killer! I am ugly but still I do my ploughing. (H. Tracey, Vol. 2, 1973: 387)

The rivalry between Shona and Ndebele has been an ongoing problem since the Ndebele came to Zimbabwe in precolonial times during the 1820s. Later, although the Shona and Ndebeles fought together against the Rhodesian government, the rivalry between both communities also provoked ethnic rivalries and assassinations by the postcolonial government (see Part Two). Therefore, ‘Magonde’ reflects the life of many mbira players in rural areas under customary law. The lyrics of ‘Nheura’ and ‘Magonde’ offer valuable information about the history of local culture under customary law. Furthermore, these songs help us to reconsider the interaction between the rural and urban context for musicians and for reinterpreting the notion of Shona identity.

Reconsidering the Categorisation of Songs as a Form of Linking Colonial and Postcolonial Narratives on Mbira Music This chapter demonstrates that ILAM’s mbira recordings embody individual and collective memory as dialogically constructed through music (Chapter Three) and its lyrical content (Chapter Four). In addition, these recordings can be used as “oral vehicles of memory” (Green, 2004: 35) from which new interpretations of the lyrical content of the recordings link precolonial, colonial, and postcolonial narratives on the study of mbira music. Lyrics and Reinterpretations of Shona-Mbira 53 In this chapter, memory has been used to connect mbira studies over the last century through ILAM’s recordings and the author’s interpretations of the song’s lyrical content. Therefore, the use of the notion of memory does not pretend to be objective, although it is able to capture the essence of a conversational dichotomy between colonial and postcolonial narratives. Considering the notion of nationhood in postcolonial Zimbabwe, the lyrical content of these mbira recordings interacts between the past and the present, providing a platform to reconsider the construction of Shona identity through mbira musical culture in Zimbabwe and beyond.

Note 1 From ILAM’s mbira recordings, I analysed 101 as follows: self-delectative, thirty songs; dance, nine songs; humorous, seventeen songs; party dance, seven songs; topical songs, fourteen songs; entertainment for chiefs, two songs; drinking song, three songs; for Mhondonro spirits, three songs; for Mashavi spirits, eight songs; lamentation, two songs; love, one song; traditional after party, one song; wistful, one song; hunting, one song; moral, one song. The classification of songs’ type is essential to debate the mood of the song, the personal and collective memory.

Part II Reconsidering the Sound Archive and Postcolonial

NationhoodReconsidering the Sound ArchiveThe Centralisation of Great Zimbabwe

5 The Centralisation of Great Zimbabwe and the Multiple Versions of Chaminuka in the Sound Archive

From 1896–1980, the southern Rhodesians designed a state based on a segregated class system and designated geographical areas for citizens and “natives” (Shona and Ndebeles). In 1980, after 84 years of white Rhode- sian supremacy, Zimbabwe became independent. The new challenges of the postcolonial state included the de-racialisation of state institutions, gender equality, school and sanitary infrastructure for black Zimbabweans, agrarian reform, and the democratic coexistence of the different political movements involved in the formation of the country such as Zimbabwe African National Union Patriotic Front (ZANU-PF), Zimbabwe African People’s Union Patri- otic Front (ZAPU-PF), Rhodesian Front (RF), and later the uprising of the Movement of Democratic Change (MDC) in the 2000 era. The de-racialisation of state institutions consisted of integrating black Zimbabweans into different forms of management. As Muzondidya (2009: 171) informs us, on a non-state level, the challenge of de-racialising the system faced certain difficulties by saying:

A 1989 report on black advancement in the private sector showed the following racial distribution at management level: senior management: 62.5% white, 37.5% black; middle management: 35.5% white, 64.5% black; junior management: 22% white, 78% black.

Muzondidya continues by saying that the fact that senior management was dominated by white Zimbabweans denoted that the “private sector. . . . [R]emained in the hands of white and international capital”. As an example, during the 1980s, Muzondidya notes that around 90% of the mining industry was owned by international multinationals. In addition to this, around 4,500 white Zimbabwean farmers owned the majority of Zimbabwe’s land. As a result, the deracialisation of Zimbabwe became a problem of decolonisation and redistributing the wealth. 58 Reconsidering the Sound Archive As part of the integration program by the Zimbabwean state, every citizen became equal under constitutional law (Muzondidya, 2009: 174). Fur- thermore, for educational purposes, standardised Shona and Ndebele were introduced as national languages at schools (ibid.: 175). Since independence, the number of schools and hospitals substantially increased from “3,358 to 6,042” during the 1980s (ibid.: 168). However, although major social and political changes occurred after independence, two major problems arose: the coexistence between parties for the design of a postcolonial government in Zimbabwe, and the land issue. With regards to the coexistence between political parties, the ZANU-PF imposed its power through ethnic violence during the Gukurahundi genocide in 1982. This atrocity led to silencing of ZAPU-PF (mostly represented by Ndebele people). From 1982–1987, the Zimbabwean government led by the ZANU- PF, “killed more than 20 000 civilians in Matabeleland and Midlands” (Muzondidya, 2009: 179).

At independence, the use of military force by the state as a way of managing ethnicity’s incessant impact led to the Gukurahundi genocide. Fur- ther, this use of force as part of state formation created a bad birthmark. Ndlovu-Gatsheni (2009a) argues that Africa’s state formation project followed a coercive unitary path where no one was invited to the ‘state formation party’, but violently forced to attend; Zimbabwe witnessed this violent episode leading to the formation of a new successor state, with tribalised nationalist leanings. The birth of Zimbabwe as a violent process was characterised by sorrowful moments, lamentation and mourning by the vanquished on the one hand, with jubilation and celebration on the other hand as victors embarked on a warpath of rewriting the history of liberation and victory (Mhlanga, 2009). The 1980s scenes of the Gukurahundi genocide cast a spell on the nationalist project in Zimbabwe by giving way to Shona ethnonationalism. (Mhlanga, 2013: 55)

After the brutal intimidation of the ZANU-PF in Matabeleland and Midlands provinces, the postcolonial tribalisation between Ndebele and Shona became evident. Within the ZANU-PF, there were also internal problems between the different Shona groups—Karanga, Kalanga, Kore Kore, Manyika, and Ndau—who generally felt marginalised by the Shona-Zezurus. As a result, Shona-Zezurus dominated the ZANU-PF and political arena of the nation. Regarding the representation of mbira musical culture by the ZANU-PF, the Zezuru-mbira nhare (or dza vadzimu) became the most popular mbira through Thomas Maphumo, among other artists, in postcolonial Zimbabwe. The Centralisation of Great Zimbabwe 59 However, at ILAM’s archive, the mbira nhare was the least popular, with only one recording in the ‘Sound of Africa series’. With regards to land reform, during the late 1990s, there was a general discontent by veterans and farmers regarding the agrarian reform in a country mostly dependent on rural life. As Sam Moyo stated in a conference in Addis Ababa in December 2004 (Muzondidya, 2009: 182), since independence, the land reform started with the land invasions of peasants in commercial and government land. Therefore, the land reform was initiated by the local Zim- babweans as a fight for the redistribution of land for the masses. During the 2000 era, the land reform requested by peasants and veterans was supported by the government. As a result of the redistribution of the land by the ZANU-PF, international multinationals and Western governments imposed economic sanctions and embargos to Zimbabwe. The embargo caused economic hyperinflation and the “dollarization of economic transac- tions” (Raftopoulos, 2009: 202). The consequences of challenging the world order by the redistribution of land provoked the most difficult period in postcolonial Zimbabwe. During the 2000 era, the ZANU-PF government also became threatened by the Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) who had the support of white farmers, the National Constitutional Assembly (NCA), and by a large number of the Zimbabwean population (ibid.: 210). According to Raftopoulos (ibid.: 209), the strength of the MDC relied on its capability to unify a range of civic struggles, labour unions, and constitutional movements searching for a political coexistence with the ZANU-PF. The coalition between the social movement of the NCA and the MDC became highly popular and “the most successful opposition party in postcolonial Zimbabwe” (Raftopoulos, 2009: 204). However, Zimbabwe remained a one-party state, with the ZANU-PF continuing to win an absolute majority, amidst much controversy. This form of monolithic power by the ZANU-PF has been deeply rooted in historical and cultural unidirectional forms of managing the notion of nationhood in postcolonial Zimbabwe by creating a “selected patriotic history” based on several factors, including: the origins of Shona identity through the centralisation of the ruins of Great Zimbabwe in relation to the Mugabe clan (Chapter Five); the glorification of ZANU-PF as the hero of the liberation war that traces back to the firstchimurenga and its spiritual leaders Nehanda and Chaminuka in the 1890s (Chapter Five); and the propagation of the patriotic message through chimurenga music based on the Shona-mbira from the 1970s (Chapter Six). ILAM’s mbira recordings are useful tools for analysing the construction of nationalist ideas in contrast to the possible reinterpretations of these songs by the author. 60 Reconsidering the Sound Archive In this chapter, I argue that the centralisation of Great Zimbabwe and the use of the first chimurenga and patriotic history by the ZANU-PF relates to the territorialisation of Shona identity that originated during colonialism.

The Notion of History in Postcolonial Zimbabwe: Informing and Reinterpreting Munhumutapa In postcolonial Zimbabwe (as during colonialism), there have been historians (Mudenge, 1988) that have also contributed to the continuum and mobilisation of Shona identity. These historians have overemphasised the importance of precolonial kingships and particularly on the historical ruins known as Great Zimbabwe. One of the main aspects of this historical research is based merely on the study of the colonial archive. For instance, in Mudenge’s book A Political History of Munhumutapa 1400–1902 (1988), he notes in the introduction of the book that the problem for the completion of his historical investi- gation is that the colonial documents used for his book are based on the interactions between Munhumutapa and the Portuguese missionaries. Thus Mudenge’s book is conditioned by the colonial archive to describe the religious, social, and economic aspects of the Munhumutapa Kingdom. Beach’s book The Shona and Zimbabwe 900–1850 (1980) is also based on the colonial archive in order to explain the history of the different kingdoms situated in Mashonaland. Andrew Tracey also referred to the Portuguese missionary archive to inform about the oldest description of mbiras in Zimbabwe by colonial tropes in 1586:

A musical instrument, also called ambira . . . it is all made of iron . . . being composed of narrow flat rods of iron about a palm in length, tem- pered in the fire so that each has a different sound. There are only nine of these rods, placed together in a row close together, with the ends nailed to a piece of wood like the bridge of a violin, from which they hang over a hollow in the wood, which is shaped like a bowl, above which the other ends of the rods are suspended in the air. (quoted from A. Tracey, 1970: 4)

This chapter focuses on the use of the Munhumutapa Kingdom for the centralisation of Zimbabwean history. Later, I analyse songs from ILAM’s archive related to the spirit of Chaminuka in relation to their multiple subaltern views of these spiritual leaders found in the mbira recordings. In this chapter, the study of mbira recordings from ILAM led me to question postcolonial nationhood and to reconsider Shona identity in Zimbabwe. The Centralisation of Great Zimbabwe 61 The Notion of Patriotic History in Relation to the Origins of Great Zimbabwe According to Ranger, in postcolonial Zimbabwe, the history of Munhu- mutapa has been used either for emancipatory politics through nationalist historiography and, since the post-2000 era, as “patriotic history” in search of the “authenticity” of Shona identity by the state.

“Patriotic history” emphasises the division of the nation not only into races but also into “patriots” and “sell-outs” among its African population. It proclaims the need for authoritarian government in order to repress and punish the “traitors”, who are often depicted as very numerous— most of the urban population, for example, and large sections within the rural. Nationalist historiography espoused projects of modernisation and reform, extending in its radical versions to Socialist and egalitarian visions. By contrast, “patriotic history” has replaced the idea of Social- ism by that of “authenticity”. (Ranger, 2004: 216)

The ZANU-PF uses selected patriotic history of the Shona people and its relationship with Great Zimbabwe without including other social realities from the nation by other communities such as the Ndebele, Shangaan, or Shona Ndau. Further, by using patriotic history, the notion of Zimbabwean citizenship offers a clear favouritism according to one’s ethnicity. With regard to the centralisation of Zimbabwean patriotic history, it has been based on the biggest pharaonic monuments and ruins of the country, Great Zimbabwe, and its relationship with the Munhumutapa Kingdom. According to the patriotic history and before the advent of colonialism, the Mugabe clan were the successors of the Great Zimbabwe Kingdom (Fontein, 2006: 19). To legitimate Mugabe’s presidency, patriotic history has been manipulated to show that the Mugabes were the keepers of Great Zimbabwe before the British arrived. However, according to Fontein’s research on Zimbabwean oral history about Great Zimbabwe, there was a dispute between the Nemanwuas, Charumbiras, and Mugabes for ruling Great Zimbabwe. According to the Mugabes and national narratives of the Zimbabwean government, the Rozvis had Mwari (God) shrines in the Matopos (twenty kilometres from Bulawayo) and were “driven out of Great Zimbabwe by Mugabe, therefore, the Mugabes were always buried at Great Zimbabwe”. Other versions by Chief Vahinorumba says that Great Zimbabwe was built by Mwari (God) (Fontein, 2006: 39). Fontein’s studies on his analysis of the power of heritage in Zimbabwean politics as related to Great Zimbabwe 62 Reconsidering the Sound Archive offers various accounts of the contested heritage of Great Zimbabwe by different clans beyond the state’s unidirectional version of Mugabe’s throne. The manipulation of patriotic history is based on the hegemony of the Mugabes and their self-empowered relationship with Great Zimbabwe. The political and historical domain of the Mugabes also provoked the homogenisation of mbira musical culture though the popularisation of the Zezuru- Shona mbira nhare. As an example, as observed at ILAM, the njari was the most popular mbira around Great Zimbabwe; however, during one of my visits to Great Zimbabwe, there was a contracted group of mbira nhare performing for tour- ists. Further, during the digital return of ILAM’s mbira recordings to Zimba- bwean universities by the author, many lecturers noted that they did not study the Shona mbiras found at ILAM except for the mbira nhare—portrayed as the spiritual mbira of the nation—and the mbira nyunganyunga. The other Shona mbiras found at ILAM are not studied at Zimbabwean universities expect for the njari at the Zimbabwe College of Music in Harare. In contrast, during the 1960s, Chawasarira noted that the Zimbabwean students learnt many of the Shona mbiras at Kwanongoma School of Music in Bulawayo (interviewed 10 February, 2016). Therefore, there was more awareness of the mbira musical culture in Zimbabwe and beyond through Kwanongoma school of music in the 1960s.1 It is evident that the use of patriotic history by the ZANU-PF has not contributed to the awareness of Shona-mbiras in Zimbabwe and how they tran- scend colonial borders embodying a wider southern African mbira culture. This chapter analyses the lyrical content of ILAM’s mbira recordings related to the subaltern and local versions of national heroes during the first chimurenga (war against the colonial government in the 1890s). This chapter questions the notion of chimurenga in relation to the lyrical content of mbira recordings and the multiple interpretations of Mondoro national spirits in contrast to the unidirectional narrative of the mentioned heroes by national history.2

Chaminuka: The Mondoro Spirit of the Nation The history of the spirit of Chaminuka (neither men nor women) is based on oral history either by local historians or spiritual mediums that had direct contact with the spirit. The multiple versions of the Chaminuka spirit by the mentioned actors challenge the monolithic version of national history by the ZANU-PF. According to Ranger, the spirit of Chaminuka was not directly involved in the different wars against colonialism by saying that:

The Chaminuka spirit was still finding mediums and the idea of Chaminuka was working itself out in other very different intellectual environments. The Centralisation of Great Zimbabwe 63 So far as we know there was no medium of the Chaminuka spirit involved in the 1896 risings. Still, those risings had made the administration wary of spirit mediums. When in 1903 a woman claimed to be possessed by the Chaminuka spirit . . . [A]ccording to them the medium said while in trance: I am Chaminuka. I know everything. I am all powerful. I caused the downfall of the Barozwi and the Matabele and I will cause the white man to leave the country. Nothing is impossible to me. (1982: 351)

In reference to the mbira musical culture and its relationship with the spirit of Chaminuka, Ranger (1982: 355) notes from Mujuru (popular mbira player) that the spirit of Chaminuka is the foundation of Shona religion by saying that:

According to Mujuru, the mbira first came from a place white men had never seen . . . located north of Rusape. . . . At first the mbira myste- riously sounded from inside a large rock near a circular stone house with no door. People gathered whenever they heard the mbira‘s music emanating from the rock. The people believed that the voice was that of Chaminuka. . . . [L]ater Chaminuka took possession of a man named Nyadate, through whom he told the people to make mbira. Nyadate showed the people how to make mbira, which they learned to play by listening at the rock. Chaminuka was the founder, not only of Shona religion and politics but also of Shona culture.

In order to question the spirit of Chaminuka and its relationship with mbira musical culture, I analyse certain Shona-mbira recordings performed for the spirit of Chaminuka and related to other spirits known as Mondoro (spiritual lion). The Mondoros are the national spirits such as Chaminuka whereas the vadzimus are the clan spirits (Vambe, 2004: 71). At ILAM, from the categorisation of Shona-mbiras, there are a few songs classified as mbira dza Mondoro in relation to their connection with the Mondoro spirits such as ‘Chaminuka Teera Wambe’ (Chaminuka follows others). According to Hugh Tracey (Vol. 2, 1973: 390), Chaminuka is the name given to a line of religious prophets from the Karanga people specifically and not from the rest of the Shona communities. Hugh Tracey also notes that the Karanga mediums possessed by the spirit of Chaminuka were able to perform supernatural miracles such as turning into a dove in order to cross the Zambezi River.

Chaminuka is the name given to a whole line of religious prophets who for many generations led the spiritual life and thoughts of the Karanga 64 Reconsidering the Sound Archive people. One of the Chaminuka prophets is said to have smitten the waters of the Zambesi so that this river parted. The Karanga people came over dry foot. His soul, they say, first flew across the river in the form of a dove. Towards the end of the song, the singer breaks into the local pat- ois, representing a conversation between him and a “mujoni”, a police man on a horse.

For Hugh Tracey, ‘Chaminuka Teera Wambe’ is based on a regional line of prophets from the Karanga region, therefore, the notion of Chaminuka spirit is based on multiple interpretations of this regional-national Mondoro spirit among different Shona communities.

Songs for Mondoro Spirits Chaminuka is classified as a Mondoro spirit. However, there are different Mondoro spirits in the Shona spiritual cosmogony. For instance, in the mbira recordings from ILAM, one can find songs played to different Mondoro spirits such as: ‘Musengu’ by the njari player Chabarwa Musunda Sinyoro (Salisbury, 1949); ‘Kana Mano’, ‘Rega Kurakana Bza Dzuro’, ‘Kari Muchip- fuwa’, ‘Msengu’, ‘Aroyiwa Mwana’, ‘Siti’, and ‘Musikana Akanaka’ by the mbira matepe players, Saini Madera and his group (Mtoko 1965); ‘Mbiriwiri Ya Mondoro’ by the njari player Manyoni Wanyamande (Fort Victoria,1949); and ‘Musengu’ and ‘Nyamulosa Chimbo Cha Gotosa’ by the mbira matepe players Saini Murira, Chingaipa Madzikuminga, Zhogi Muzengedza, and Saini Madera (Mtoko 1958). These songs performed to Mondoro spirits were recorded by different mbiras (matepe and njari) that are not popularised or taught at universities in Zimbabwe. However, these recordings demonstrate that the notion of the Mondoro spirit is spread over different Shona communities in Zimbabwe. As one can observe, the song ‘Musengu’ is performed by different mbira players in different areas of Mashonaland to the Mondoro spirit. In the song ‘Musengu’ played by Sinyoro, the lyrics do not refer directly to the Mondoro spirit but the metaphoric meaning of the song can refer to multiple spiritual meanings: ‘Do not argue child, it is forbidden/And you will be sorry for it/ Ha, my son in law, it makes you feel good/The way you dance makes the earth turn over’ (H. Tracey, Vol. 2, 1973: 388). In the attempt to unravel the metaphorical meaning of ‘Musengu’, Sinyoro may be saying that children should not argue about the Mondoro spirit because they are symbolised as the most elevated spirits in the “Shona” cosmogony. Later, when Sinyoro refers to his son-in-law, he may be evoking his spirit which makes people dance with a particular energy. However, spiritual The Centralisation of Great Zimbabwe 65 songs are open to multiple meanings and can obtain different meanings for local people and spiritual beliefs (Edgar Bera, interviewed 9 February, 2016). In relation to spread of Mondoro songs in Mashonaland, the songs ‘Muse- ngu’ and ‘Yamulosa Chimbo Cha Gotosa’ (the song of the Gotosa, the Mon- doro) are songs played for Mondoro spirits and performed by the mbira matepe players Saini Murira, Chingaipa Madzikuminga, Zhogi Muzengedza, and Saini Madera. For Hugh Tracey, “Gotosa . . . [i]s said to be the Mondoro spirit of Mkota district in Mutoko” (Vol. 2, 1973: 175). It would be problematic to measure the importance of different Mondoro spirits such as Chaminuka for Karanga/Zezuru people or Gotosa for the Kore Kores. Regarding the notion of Mondoro spirits in Zimbabwe, the different types of Mondoro spirits offer a multidimensional reality of the study of Shona spirituality in Zimbabwe. The Zimbabwean government was able to channel the various narratives about Chaminuka as a unidirectional and spiritual victory after independence. Chaminuka represents the spiritual liberation war but does not address the disparate narratives of the Mondoro spirits in the nation. Archival research reveals that the study of mbira recordings helps to reconsider the construction of postcolonial identity in Zimbabwe through songs dedicated to Mondoro spirits.

Songs for Mashawi Spirits According to Hugh Tracey (1973, Vol. 2: 388), the Mashawi spirits inhabit in the chest of the people and are troublemakers. For Chawasarira, the Mashawi spirits are the leisure spirits such as mermaids, foreign spirits, etc. (interviewed 10 February, 2016). There are songs played for Mashawi spirits found at ILAM’s archive such as: Muzazaranda and Masongano by Sinyoro (Salisbury 1949); ‘Mbiri- wiri’ by Manyoni Zhou (Fort Victoria 1949); ‘Sherekta Msango’ by Man- yoni Zhou, Saimoni Mashoko Shawa, and two women (Chilimanzi district 1950); ‘Hondora’ and ‘Ndazwa Ngengoma Kurira’ by the mbira Ndau player Tavarirevu Muyambo (Chipinge 1963); and ‘Ngoma Yababa Kutamba’ by the kalimba player Stephen Runeso Gumbo (Fort Victoria 1958). Songs dedicated to Mashawi spirits are intriguing and it is difficult to decipher their spiritual identity. As an example, in ‘Muzazaranda’, Sinyoro sings about a Mashawi spirit that wants to distract children and call itself the “the cutter of gourds”. ‘Masongano’ refers to the parental souls as the most important Mashawi souls. In the song ‘Masongano’, Sinyoro asks his mother’s departed soul to “let him step over it”. During the song, Sinyoro speaks of his desire for women in metaphorical ways (H. Tracey, Vol. 2, 1973: 388). The possibility of Mashawi spirits being the performer’s relatives offers a 66 Reconsidering the Sound Archive conversation with them in the form of lament or by singing in the form of “mundane conversation”. In ‘Mbiriwiri Ya Mondoro’, Manyoni uses several old Karanga proverbs that are said to come from the spirit of Chaminuka when the Shona people were surrounded by Ndebele soldiers and Chaminuka said: “Let me be stabbed by a bright knife, the death of my desiring” (ibid.: 389). According to Hugh Tracey, “Mbiriwiri” is associated with mbira songs that speak of Mon- doro spirits. However, this song is classified as being sung for a Mashawi spirit. A possible interpretation of this song may refer to a Mashawi spirit who was a soldier during the war between the Shona and Ndebeles. ‘Sherekta Msango’ is played for a mazungu (white person) soul which calls for:

A red hat, and a red and black cloth. You drink blood and white meal and wear Ndoro beads. In the hands, you must hold a gano, a cross. This soul appears to be associated with the earliest white men and the Catholic ritual of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries when it was first introduced to their part of south eastern Africa. (H. Tracey, Vol. 2, 1973: 397)

The lyrics of this song say that “when you walk on the path, carry your child on the side, do not leave him on your back, there may be something behind you”. This song seems to express the fear of white people to walk in the unknown areas of Mashonaland. In ‘Ngoma Yababa Kutamba Nay’ (‘Father’s music for dancing with the spirits’), Gumbo starts performing a song for the Mashawi spirits, however, at a certain point of this track, he plays a Christian hymn. This song shows the dichotomy of Shona cosmogony and Christianity in a song for Mashawi. Therefore, some of the interpretations of this song could be that the Mashawi spirit is conflicted with the mentioned belief systems or even ridiculing them. Lastly, although the mbira Ndau is commonly played for entertainment, there are two songs performed for Mashawi spirits at ILAM’s archive: ‘Hon- dora’ and ‘Ndazwa Ngengoma Kurira’, played by Tavarirevu Muyambo. In ‘Hondora’, Muyambo questions how the spirit of a black police officer is able to arrest his own parents. In ‘Ndazwa Ngengoma Kurira’, the singer simply evokes the Mashawi spirits by saying “I heard the sound of drumming/I heard the drum saying Guduru/I heard the sound of the drums, they must be there” (ibid.: 470). The songs for Mashawi spirits demonstrates how the main narratives in these songs are related to the musician’s interaction with local spirituality and colonialism. The Centralisation of Great Zimbabwe 67 Regional Realities and the Politicisation of Mondoro and Mashawi Spirits by the ZANU PF As informed by the study of ILAM’s mbira recordings about Mondoro or Mashawi spirits, the representation of these spirits can inform or advise us about how locals in certain regions perceived or understood their relationships with these spirits. As observed, the Mondoro spirits have different enti- ties such as Chaminuka in the Karanga region or Gotosa in the Kore Kore area. In postcolonial Zimbabwe, Chaminuka transcended from being a regional Mondoro spirit to a national spiritual entity. After independence, Chaminuka has also been linked to the centralisation of Shona spirituality by the patriotic history of the “Shona” Munhumutapa kingdom in Great Zimbabwe. Mugabe used the idea of Chaminuka as the spiritual icon of resistance against colonisers. Mhlanga notes that this form of centralising spiritual history by Mugabe was also reflected in postcolonial Zimbabwean music by saying that

Robert Mugabe emerged as a symbol of resistance against colonialism with the re-articulation of the liberation narrative using Shona music by musical groups such as the Harare Mambos, the Runn Family and sing- ers like Elijah Madzikatire and his band. As part of the nationalist pan- theon, music and other such activities were used to capture a definitive state of a tribalised historical continuum in which Shona memory and its narratives were presented as official history. (Mhlanga, 2013: 55)

And

This re-narration of memory had a bearing in the consolidation of Zimbabwe as a successor state and in keeping with Shona nationalist ideology in which Mugabe gained psycho-spiritual connection to the Munhumutapa state. (ibid.: 56)

Mhlanga’s views on the centralisation of Mugabe as the successor of the Munhumutapa state demonstrates the Shona-ness of the Zimbabwean state over other social realities in the country. As part of this crystallisation of pharaonic monuments to dictate the “authentic” vision of monolithic power by the Shona ZANU-PF, among other occasions, Mugabe’s birthday was celebrated in company of politicians, celebrities and local chiefs from the country in Great Zimbabwe in February 2016. 68 Reconsidering the Sound Archive The centralisation of Great Zimbabwe by Mugabe dismisses the importance of more than 200 ruins that are accounted to be built by the Vadumas and VaRozvis in Zimbabwe (Fontein, 2006: 37). Further, the centralisation of Great Zimbabwe also has become a continuation of colonial narratives that attempted to address the Munhumutapa kingdom and Great Zimba- bwe as one of the few historical centres of civilisation in southern Africa (Burke, 1969: 139). Regardless of the different colonial and postcolonial disputes about who build Great Zimbabwe, during one of my trips to Great Zimbabwe, there is also historical evidence of the circulation of different people in the area for the exchange of goods (mostly gold for something else) between Zimba- bwean Rozvis-Dumas with Swahili-Muslims, Chinese, Indian, and European (Portuguese and English) traders over the last five centuries. Such cultural and social exchange in the area may reflect the musical circulation of mbira and possible external influences that escape Eurocentric and Afrocentric narratives.

Conclusion Throughout this chapter, I have observed how the descriptions of Mondoro spirits such as Chaminuka offer multiple perspectives depending on the location where ILAM made their recordings. The sound archive from the colonial period helps to question the monolithic historical narrative of Chaminuka and Great Zimbabwe as a form of using the power and the notion of national heritage by the Zimbabwean president. The mbira recordings provide subaltern versions of the Mondoro spirits according to the context (such as Gotosa in Mutoko) versus the nationalist version of Chaminuka and Great Zimbabwe. As Ranger noted (2004: 2), patriotic history replaces the idea of socialism by manipulating the notion of the historically authentic based on Great Zimbabwe. This type of patriotic history as told by the postcolonial is also reflected in other forms of nationalist music promoted by the political elite based on Shona-mbiras such as chimurenga music.

Notes 1 One must note that the Traceys were involved in designing the syllabus for Kwanon- goma and it included how to play different types of mbiras and the marimba. 2 In contrast to the spiritual entity of Chaminuka, it is important to mention Nehanda who was a human-spirit medium related to the Shona-Ndebele uprising during the fight against colonialism at the end of the nineteenth century. According to Mazarire (2009: 52), “Nehanda has dominated both historical and fiction writing as a renowned spirit medium who was deeply opposed to colonialism. Hanged The Centralisation of Great Zimbabwe 69 at the end of the Ndebele-Shona rising and is said to have prophesied during her trial that her bones would one day raise to fight against colonialism once more”. Mazarire continues his historical criticism by adding that the notion of Nehanda as the female hero of the first liberation war between Ndebele and Shonas in 1896 should also address other leaders such as “Mkwati, Nehanda, Mashamyamombe, Makoni, Kunzvi-Nyandoro, Mlugulu, Siginyamathse, Mpotshwana and others” (ibid.: 53). However, patriotic history has decided to select Nehanda as the Shona- Ndebele mediator that unified the different linguistic and ethnic realities fighting against colonialism in Zimbabwe. 6 Chimurenga MusicReconsidering the Sound ArchiveChimurenga Music Mbira Musical Culture and the Subaltern Versions of Postcolonial Nationhood

Chimurenga music has been used to construct narratives that link colonial and postcolonial histories of mbira music in Zimbabwe. The previous chapter analysed the concept of patriotic history and how it is used to explain the genesis of the Zimbabwean nation based on the centralisation of Great Zimbabwe, Chaminuka, and the Munhumutapa Kingdom. In this chapter, I draw comparisons between mbira-Shona recordings from ILAM and its musical similarities with chimurenga music by covering musical similarities and its lyrical-traditional content (kudeketera) which demonstrates the multiple versions of chimurenga as subaltern narratives in different parts of Zimbabwe; and the notion of chimurenga music as a monolithic version narrated by the state for the postcolonial foundation of Zimba- bwean musical culture based on liberation struggles of Shona Zimbabweans over different historical periods. As Vambe notes (2011: 4), the notion of chimurenga music has multiple meanings for different historical periods of Shona resistance and national identity.

Historically, the term “chimurenga” predates colonialism, and is associated with the Shona ancestor, Murenga Sororenzou, a well-known fighter, hunter and nation-builder. Chimurenga as political ideology that is articulated on a military level is distinctly Shona, and therefore sui generis and an expression of African nationalism in Zimbabwe . . . As a manifestation of the ideology of African liberation, chimurenga represents communal African memory stretching back to the time of Munhumutapa’s struggles against the Portuguese in the early seventeenth century, and the Shona struggles with the Ndebele in the 1830s.

The notion of chimurenga is divided into three historical periods of Zimba- bwe related to the liberation struggles of Zimbabwean people: the liberation war in the 1890s; the first period of independence from 1980–2000; and the Chimurenga Music 71 2000 era marked by the agrarian reform. These historical periods serve to explain the liberation struggle against British colonialism since 1896. In the 1970s, chimurenga music emerged as a form of musical innovation of mbira tunes by its instrumentation based on guitars, electric bass, drum kits and percussions. Chimurenga music rapidly transcended from its subaltern space during the second liberation war to the representation of national culture after independence. This chapter analyses the use of chimurenga music as part of the subaltern and the state simultaneously during the first two chimurengas. Further, I analyse how chimurenga music relates to previous studies on mbira recordings from the sound archive.

Music in Postcolonial African Countries: The Promotion of the Ethnic Majority as a Form of Cultural Nationhood In many African postcolonial countries, music became an essential vehicle of communication and social expression in order to build a new postcolonial identity. The earliest attempt to construct a plural (or multi-ethnic) society addressing the musical cultures of a postcolonial nation occurred in Ghana by the end of the 1950s. The Ghanaian president, Nkrumah, attempted to replace the word “ethnicity” with the notion of “equalitarian citizenship” (Mhlanga, 2013: 47). In order to create a plural and equalitarian society in Ghana, Nkrumah created the national ballet of Ghana to promote the different artistic expressions of the country (Schauert, 2015: 82). However, rather than promoting cultural plurality, many ideals of postcolonial nationalism over-represented the largest ethnic group of many newly independent nations in Africa. Examples of the latter would be the elevation of Shona music by the Zimbabwean African National Union Patriotic Front (ZANU-PF) in Zimbabwe, the promotion of the music of the amaXhosa and amaZulu by the African National Congress (ANC) in South Africa, or the lack of support of Berber music by the Moroc- can Kingdom and the Algerian Front de liberation national (FLN). Despite the over-representation of ethnic majorities in many postcolonial countries, the foundation of many of these dance troupes and postcolonial music ensembles was based on the promotion of precolonial culture com- bined with artistic innovation. As an example, in 1972, in the attempt to build a multicultural state in Zaire, the Zairean government entrusted to the popular artist, Ray Lema, to conduct research on “the musical reality of a country with more than 250 ethnic groups, collecting sounds and meeting with hundreds of musicians and dancers” (Teanille, 2002: 238). This type of nationalism was based on the idea of multiethnicity or multinativism. However, as observed in previous chapters, the notion of ethnicity did not always bring awareness of the 72 Reconsidering the Sound Archive circulation of musical cultures beyond postcolonial borders. Therefore, the possibility of reconsidering the circulation of precolonial musical cultures in the continent was conditioned by the new notion of postcolonial nationhood. Another way of constructing new postcolonial musical cultures was based on the idea of musical innovation by performing traditional music with electric ensembles. In postcolonial Guinea, the use of electric bands (guitar, bass, drum kits, wind instruments) provided a bridge to musical innovation by translating traditional music into a new electric sound. For instance, the Amazons of Guinea (a band formed by the women’s police brigade) com- bined traditional Guinean music with postcolonial revolutionary lyrics in their attempt to build a sense of nationhood through precolonial music and postcolonial nationalist messages (Tenaille, 2002: 31). As part of this attempt to build a sense of nationhood by addressing the complex multi-musical realities of postcolonial countries, in Mali, Ali Farka Toure would proudly affirm that his music is a combination of his local Song- hay musical culture with Tamaseq music (Tuareg) (ibid.: 102). As a result of this musical awareness in Malian society, one can find a Malian guitarist such as Adama Drame who is able to play Tamaseq, jeli, and Wassoulou among other national musical genres (Gimenez Amoros, 2012). Thus, in many Afri- can countries after independence such as those mentioned above, they also attempted to build a new form of musical identity that addressed national musical cultures and new multicultural interactions. However, the attempt to bring awareness of different types of musical cultures in Guinea, Ghana, Western Sahara, or Mali did not occur in Zimba- bwe. The postcolonial government in Zimbabwe has continued emphasising Shona musical culture rather than the existence of a multicultural society. Furthermore, the World Music industry has promoted Shona mbira music or chimurenga rather than other musical realities from Zimbabwe (Turino, 1998). Thus, the promotion of chimurenga and mbira music outside Zim- babwe contributed to enhance the Shona cultural domination in the country either in rural, urban, national, continental, or global spaces. As previously observed through Landau’s (2010) notion of mobility and Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence (1970; 2015), mbira musical culture and chimurenga music (as subaltern) expand beyond postcolonial borders in southern Africa. Postcolonial nationhood does not contribute to the awareness of cultural mobility in the continent unless there is an attempt to challenge cultural border crossing. At present, the mbira harmonic system analysed in the Zimbabwean recordings from ILAM could be a valuable resource to analyse the re-enactment of mbira music and its homogenisation through electric ensembles such as Thomas Maphumo’s chimurenga music. Chimurenga music reconsiders the continuation of the tribal Shona project in the attempt to reinforce the notion Chimurenga Music 73 of Shona identity which is the mother tongue of 80% of the Zimbabwean population. In order to bring awareness of the circulation of musical cultures, the biggest challenge in postcolonial countries is to acknowledge the cultural and musical interactions in the continent in order to challenge the artificial borders of nationhood.

Harmonic Relationships Between Shona Mbira Recordings From ILAM and Chimurenga Music This section focuses on the musicological study of Shona-mbira recordings from ILAM that inspired many musical arrangements of chimurenga songs. The instrumentation of chimurenga bands is characterised by the adaptation of mbira music in an electric ensemble. The drum kit imitates the 6/8 ternary rhythms of the hosho (shakers with seeds inside such as the maracas), the bass line tends to be syncopated and off-beat (similarly to the bass line in mbira music), and the guitar imitates the kutsinhira variations. As part of the musical innovation of chimurenga bands, there are some ensembles that use wind instruments (saxophone and trumpet), keyboards, or percussions (bongos or congas) such as Thomas Maphumo. Turino (2000: 347) also adds that, in the 1970s, the use of electric ensembles to perform rock or Congolese rumba by Zimbabwean artists in urban areas was also essential in the construction of the instrumentation for chimurenga music. The external influences added new musical elements into the construction of chimurenga music. Regarding the harmony of many chimurenga songs, the influence ofmbira music is predominant through the use of the chord sequence of mbira songs or by the call-response interaction based on the kushaura and kutsinira alter- nation in mbira music. Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence is used in multiple songs of chimurenga music, in particular, the ‘Nhemamusasa’ pattern A-C-F-F/A-D- F-F/B-D-F-F/A-C-E-E is found in songs such as ‘Sabhuku’ by Jonah Sithole or ‘Ndivumbamireiwo’ by the Fourth Brothers, among other examples. ‘Tai- reva’ chord cadence, A-C-E-E/A-C-F-F/A-D-F-F/B-D-F-F, is also found in chimurenga songs such as ‘Benyumundiro’ by Dopiro Band. There are also many chimurenga songs inspired by certain melodic phrases from Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence. For instance, ‘Mutserendende’ by the Dopiro Band is based on the first and fourth phrases from ‘Nhema- musasa’ A-C-F-F/A-C-E-E.1 The study of the harmonic and melodic system of the mbira recordings found at ILAM demonstrates that Shona-mbira music is the foundation of chimurenga music. The importance of addressing these musical similarities 74 Reconsidering the Sound Archive between mbira recordings from ILAM and chimurenga songs relies on the continuum of mbira musical culture during the popularisation of chimurenga music after independence.

Mbira Kudeketera for the Subaltern and the State Since independence, Shona mbira musical culture is linked to the both the national identity of the state and the subaltern simultaneously through chimurenga music. In the subaltern space, chimurenga music emerges as a form of criticism towards the government or as a form of resistance during colonial and postcolonial times. The use of the lyrical content in mbira songs provides a valuable platform to examine the subaltern messages during the colonial and postcolonial period. In the national sphere dominated by the government, chimurenga music represents the political identity in postcolonial Zimbabwe by using mbira influences and standardised Shona becomes the national language. This point coheres with Chikowero’s (2015: 238) views on the use of chimurenga music as being mass-nationalist and unidirectional by the state. On the contrary, the subaltern space offers multiple interpretations of the lyrical content of mbira music according to the location or region where the music is performed. As an example, the songs dedicated to the spirits of Chaminuka or Gotosa offer different interpretations and perspectives for the people of Mutoko and Harare. However, the general characteristic of these songs with subaltern messages relies on the metaphorical messages open to multiple interpretations of the same song. In chimurenga music, the use of metaphorical messages is also used in many recordings because chimurenga music borrows from traditional say- ings and lyrics from mbira songs such as ‘Nyoka Musango’ (‘There is a snake in the bush’), ‘Nhemamusasa’, ‘Taireva’, or ‘Nyamaropa’. For instance, in ‘Nyoka Musango’, the metaphor of the snake in the bush can offer multiple meanings regarding caution in life or to pay more attention to spiritual and relevant matters. In Berliner’s (1976: 451) studies on mbira music, he offers an analysis of the multiple meanings of Shona proverbs used in mbira songs by using kudeketera (verbal accompaniment of songs). Berliner offers an example of kudeketera to demonstrate that even the local population understands a single phrase in a mbira song in different forms:

The interpretations of this text were given to me by different individuals. One person ignored the ambiguity, believing the singer to have been reporting an event, and took the words to mean “The female dog has recently given birth.” Another individual transferred the associations of Chimurenga Music 75 a canine birth into the realm of humans and believed the singer to have been mocking a woman who had “recently given birth to more than one child” (that is, given birth to a “litter”). Finally, a third person guessed the meaning which, according to the mbira players in Mude’s ensemble, was the one which the singer had intended, “The mother of the dog has recently given birth.” (ibid.: 463)

In postcolonial Zimbabwe, the notion of kudeketera is incorporated in the lyrical content of many popularised songs. For instance, Eyre (2001: 76) addresses the multiple interpretations of Mtukudzi’s song ‘Wasakara’ which is directed at an old person advising him to leave his status as a ruler in the village in order to rest and to allow others to manage the village. The metaphorical meaning of ‘Wasakara’ was interpreted by many Zimbabweans as a social criticism to advise Mugabe to give up leading Zimbabwe. However, Mtukudzi affirms that ‘Wasakara’ is a celebration of “being old”. Thus, the meaning of ‘Wasakara’ is open to multiple interpretations by the artist, Zim- babwean people, and the government. Another popular artist who uses proverbs to provide a form of subaltern criticism towards the postcolonial government is Chimbetu in his song, ‘Simba Nederere’ (‘Keep on eating okra’). According to Vambe (2011: 18), Chimbetu directed his lyrics to the government by singing: “But you said in war we are together. How and why now have you changed, backtracked and left me in poverty?” (translated by Vambe, 2011: 18). According to Vambe “This song is an indictment of the leadership who now enjoy the fruits of independence alone while the poor people depend on a meagre diet of okra that was not even allowed to be eaten by guerrillas during the struggle”. Chimbetu proves that the lyrical content of his songs can be directed to many agents involved in the formation of postcolonial Zimbabwe and their contemporary history such as war veterans, the state, or Zimbabwean citizens of any linguistic group. As Vambe and Zegeye observe:

The subaltern will fight those that dominate them from the same political space in which their economic initiatives are constantly being worked out. (2011: 57)

In postcolonial Zimbabwe, the social criticism of many chimurenga recordings offers a subaltern fragmentation between the state and the multiple versions of the historical narratives and perspectives of oppressed groups in the country, divided in accordance to their linguistic categorisation among the Shona (Zezuru, Karanga, Kalanga, Ndau, Manyika, and Kore Kore), 76 Reconsidering the Sound Archive Ndebele, and other minorities. ILAM’s recordings offer a valuable platform to analyse the different subaltern messages along the different Shona groups in present Zimbabwe.

Regionalism and New Mbira Musical Styles in Zimbabwe Either through archival or experiential research on mbira music, I have analysed the lyrical content of ILAM’s mbira recordings that reflects social realities in colonial and postcolonial Zimbabwe and how mbira musical culture transcends Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence by covering a range of subjects, including: the mbira Ndau recordings about migration and how it is still reflected in the modern phenomenon of Zimbabweans moving to South Africa; the absence of the notion of mobility in mbira musical culture versus the representation and territorialisation of Zimbabwean music through chimurenga music; and the coexistence of Shona mbira music with other musical realities in Zimbabwe such as sungura, jazz, or dancehall, and how these musical styles influencembira players to developed mbira musical culture in different ways. Although chimurenga music and the use of Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence became highly popular in postcolonial Zimbabwe, it is essential to include the study of other forms of Shona mbira musical cultures that bring awareness of intercultural nationhood in postcolonial Zimbabwe. a) The Mbira Ndau and Its Migration Stories in Kariba and South Africa Yesterday and Today It is essential to stress the importance of the lyrical content of many of ILAM’s mbira Ndau recordings that have not been as popularised as the Shona proverbs and lyrical content from the mbira nhare or nyunganyunga in postcolonial Zimbabwe. Previously, I argued that the mbira Ndau has not been as recognised by Zimbabweans as other Shona mbiras because there is not a harmonic, melodic, or even linguistic relationship between the mbira Ndau and other Shona mbiras. Within the subaltern fragmentation of the different Shona groups in postcolonial Zimbabwe, ILAM’s mbira Ndau recordings bring awareness of present social problems for Zimbabweans that occurred during the time of the recordings in the 1950s. For instance, the lyrical content of many of ILAM’s mbira Ndau recordings reflects the present situation of Ndau-Zimbabweans migrating to other parts of the country or to South Africa or as narrated by mbira Ndau players in the 1950s. Regarding migratory movements by mbira Ndau players within Zim- babwe, there are recordings performed by mbira Ndau players about their Chimurenga Music 77 working experience in Kariba. These mbira players migrated to work on the Kariba Dam during the displacement of the Tonga people between Zimbabwe and Zambia in the 1950s and 1960s. As an example, in the song ‘Kurangaira A Masewe’, Mashowa speaks of his home and his wife, Masewe. Mashowa sings a letter-like song to his wife explaining that he is working at the Kariba for an Italian company. According to Hugh Tracey, the Ndau people admire the Italian workers driving the cranes because they risk their lives while doing their work (Vol. 2, 1973: 130). However, Hugh Tracey’s interpretation of ‘Kurangaira A Masewe’ does not address the working conditions of Ndau people. Mashowa’s song reveals the possibility of reconsidering the labour conditions by Ndau workers in Kariba and the circulation of mbira Ndau music during the colonial period. ‘Ndongwe Woye Amasewe’ (‘Poverty, alas, mother-in-law’) is a song about poverty and migration by two mbira Ndau players from Sipungabera, Ukama Sibanda and Maunde. Regarding recordings about migratory movements by mbira Ndau players to Kariba, in ‘Ndongwe Woye Amasewe’, the mbira Ndau players speak of a locust which symbolizes the famine and poverty that was experienced in the 1950s in Kariba. In ‘Zokudaro’ (‘Just like that’), Ukama Sibanda and Maunde recommend the people from Sipung- abera not to come to Kariba through Joini (a labour recruiting company) but coming by themselves in order to find better job opportunities. As a case in point, some of the mbira Ndau recordings reveal that there were some Ndau people seeking job opportunities in the Kariba and not being contracted by Joini or other recruitment companies such as Joshiah Muyambo’s ‘Nda Rombe’ ('I am a beggar?') which speaks of an mbira player from Sipungabera that earns his bread by entertaining Ndau workers with his songs in Kariba in 1957 (H. Tracey, Vol. 2, 1973: 56). With regard to mbira Ndau recordings about migratory movements to South Africa, there are songs about nostalgia, homesickness, poverty, and even descriptions of different types of labour conditions outside the Ndau area. Regarding the latter, Shengwe Mashowa, speaks of both the harsh conditions of working in Johannesburg and in Kariba in his songs ‘Ndarem- bokutwa Muzheni’ (‘I am tired of pounding’) and ‘Kurangaira A Masewe’ (‘I am thinking of Masewe’) (Kariba, 1957). In ‘Ndarembokutwa Muzheni’, the mbira Ndau player narrates that he is tired of “pounding” at home and advises someone to work in Johannesburg by saying:

I am tired of pounding for a lizard who is too tired to go to Johannes- burg to work. Get out of that house. If you refuse to come out I’ll come and pull you out. If it were me I would go to Johannesburg, because if women were always telling me to go and work, I would do so. (Kariba, 1957: 130) 78 Reconsidering the Sound Archive Regarding homesickness by mbira Ndau players, in ‘Hambokami Kota Mova’ (Chipinga, 1963), Tabariveru Muyammbo speaks of Mohamba’s lorry when he drives many Ndau workers to Musina (border town between South Africa and Zimbabwe) and Johannesburg. In this song, Muyammbo expresses certain ethnic tensions between Ndau and Shangaans by saying “Mohamba’s car worries me, out of the way you Shangaans” (ibid.: 469). The ethnic tension between different working-class linguistic groups demonstrates that the social tension between different linguistic groups needs to be addressed in colonial and postcolonial nationhood. At the same time, the culture of resistance and migration provided a positive platform to challenge the customary law and to socialise among different territorialised groups while working in the mines. As previously noted in Chapter Four, there are other songs that reflect the nostalgia of Ndau workers residing in South Africa. For instance, in ‘Hiyo Woye Busai-We’ (‘Hi Busai’), Sitole sings to his friend Busai about his pre- carious conditions in Sophia Town, and in ‘Ndinochema Amasebe’ (Chip- inga district, 1957), Mafiru describes the pain and nostalgia from home when he had to emigrate for working purposes to Sophia Town (H. Tracey, Vol. 2, 1973: 8). Many mbira Ndau songs contain social criticism about migration and poverty that mirrors the situation of many Ndau-Zimbabweans that also migrated to other parts of the country and South Africa during the 2000 era. As an example, during my research, the mbira Ndau player Solomon Madinga came from Chipinge to Harare for a temporary job as a builder. Madinga also mentioned that he has crossed illegally to South Africa several times seeking job opportunities (interviewed 29 February, 2016). As Madinga notes, the massive migration of Ndau Zimbabweans to South Africa is firstly caused by the lack of acknowledgement of Ndau people and culture by the Zimbabwean state. Secondly, migration is due to the hyperinflation of the Zimbabwean currency since the 2000 era. b) Mbira Musical Culture in Southern Africa and Chimurenga Music In order to unravel the colonial borders and to find new forms of humanism that broaden the cultural interactions along southern Africa, the comparison between chimurenga music and its roots beyond Zimbabwean borders must be addressed for future research. This point coheres with Fanon’s (1968: 35) point on “Concerning Violence” in which he notes that the capability of the postcolonial nation should be able to find new forms of humanism beyond colonial borders and not to imitate the failures of colonialism. The search for the new and old mobility in southern African mbira musical culture asserts Chimurenga Music 79 the inter-textual cultural narrative that occurs in southern Africa prior to, and after, colonialism; therefore, the links between chimurenga music and certain heptatonic mbiras in southern Africa provide a valuable comparative study to decolonise the sound archive in Africa and to build new forms of studying mbira musical culture beyond the territorialisation of musical styles within the continent or overemphasising the ethnic majority of postcolonial nations. As previously seen in Chapter Three, archival research has contributed to finding the harmonic and melodic relationship betweenmbira s from Zambia, Malawi, Mozambique, Zimbabwe, and South Africa. The possibility of using musicological studies on the mobility of certain harmonic structures beyond present borders has the potential to find new ways of studying postcolonial musical cultures such as chimurenga music in relation to mbira musical cultures (njari, matepe/hera, nhare, nyunganyunga, kankobela, or deza) in southern Africa. c) The Relationship Between Chimurenga Music and Other Musical Instruments From Southern Africa The relationship between chimurenga music, Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence, and precolonial musical instruments embodies more instruments than the mbiras in southern Africa. From my research at ILAM’s sound archive, I found that other southern African instruments used certain melodic phrases from Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence, such as: the kalumbo (one string instrument), drums and horns in Gwembe area, Zambia; and the chizambi (friction bow), chipendani (musical bow), nyeri flute, blown pipes and board zither in other areas from Zimbabwe. Andrew Tracey (2015: 130) also refers to other southern African instruments that are related melodically to the Shona mbiras such as certain xylophones (valimba and marimba) or nyanga pipes. In the recordings of the one-stringed kalumbo, this instrument imitates the vocal part from which some melodic phrases from the Shona chord cadence are performed. In Zimbabwe, there are some recordings where the blown pipes (name of the instrument not mentioned) play melodies that could accompany any song with Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence in ‘Wamwira Manga- rangara’ and more clearly in ‘Ai-Ye’ and ‘Nzarayakabora’ (Mutoko 1958), where two blown pipes interlock different melodic lines (ibid.: 175). Another piece of clear evidence of the use of certain melodic phrases from the Shona chord cadence is found in the recordings of the nyere flutes mainly in the song ‘Ngorombe’ (Salisbury 1949) in Domboshawa School. With regards to the use of the Shona chord cadence on bowed instruments, I found various numerous examples in the recordings at ILAM, such as: ‘Ndozofa’ and ‘Handina Mwana’ on the chizambi bow (ibid.: 165); the first 80 Reconsidering the Sound Archive two melodic phrases of Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence are played in the songs ‘Jerusarima’, ‘Rungano’ (ibid.: 166), ‘Ndinosara Nani’ (ibid.: 391) and ‘Kwa Aambuya Asina Keriya’ (ibid.: 394) with the chipendani; ‘Ndinosara Nani’, ‘Mukwambo Mutsa’ and ‘Ijongwewe’ (ibid.: 391) on the chimazambi; and chimwanikoda’s recordings. One must note that Andrew Tracey (2015: 130) acknowledges the familiarity of the Shona chord cadence with certain panpipes and mouth bows in southern Africa, however, he does not provide musical examples regarding such musical similarities. Chimurenga music and Andrew Tracey’s Shona chord cadence are influenced by a southern African musical culture that can include musical styles played by various precolonial instruments such as the nyele/nyere flutes,chi - pendani, chimazambi, and chimwanikoda. The songs’ melodic structures and their relationship with the recordings and the aforementioned instruments offers a new consideration on the construction of postcolonial nationhood and national culture in Zimbabwe. The study of ILAM’s sound archive becomes an essential tool for promoting cultural plurality in countries ruled by ethnic majorities. d) Being a Musician in Postcolonial Zimbabwe During the colonial period, there were other musical styles that were popularised among Zimbabwean people such as jazz, gospel, and finger-picking guitar. Chikowero (2015) accounts an in-depth study of how Zimbabwean music was sustained and circulated in segregated Southern Rhodesia. For Chikowero (2008: 114), being a musician in Zimbabwe was a difficult challenge that was hardly supported by colonial or postcolonial institutions. As an example, Chikowero (ibid.: 115) notes how the postcolonial National Dance Company (NDC) was not a sustainable project because the state pock- eted most of its income after national or international tours. During my research on mbira music in Zimbabwe, none of the twenty- two mbira players were funded by state projects in Zimbabwe. These artists mostly depended on self-managed performances in Zimbabwe (primarily in Harare) and abroad. The lack of state funds to sustain mbira musical culture provoked a separation between the mbira artists performing for foreign institutions and at local venues. The artists performing for foreign institutions would regularly play in Harare at Alliance Françoise, the USA embassy, or the German Goethe centre, among other Western institutions in the capital. It is evident that the cultural capital is mostly found at foreign institutions where the local and international elite are able to meet. Apart from the promotion of Zimbabwean musical culture by foreign institutions, the Shona elite are also able contract popular musicians for galas Chimurenga Music 81 or celebrations in the capital. Generally, the musicians that play for foreign institutions will also perform for the Shona elite for generous income, such as Hope Masike or Victor Kunonga. The local venues where Zimbabwean music is performed tend to be at shebeens (local bars) or sport centres in townships outside Harare such as Dzivarasekwa or Chitungwiza. Most of the performances are directed for the Zimbabwean youth and, therefore, the musical styles performed are dancehall or sungura (a Zimbabwean type of soukous or Congolese rumba). The bifurcation between Zimbabwean artists performing for foreign institutions and for local venues offers a cultural fracture between local artists and how they direct their repertoires according to their audience. Accord- ing to Chikowero (2008: 116), being a musician in Zimbabwe does not only become difficult because of the lack of state funds, but also through the notion of being a musician in Shona society, which is not valued as a profession.

Clearly, music was generally an unrewarding profession in Zimbabwe. This reinforced the negative connotations in the Shona traditional name for performers—marombe—‘tramps’ who literally sang for their supper at the royal court (Mudenge, 1988: 100–101). Thus, while musicians are some of the most celebrated personalities in developed economies, Zimbabweans are only very reluctantly allowing their children to take on music as a career because of these unflattering images. (2008: 116)

In relation to the hard conditions of mbira players, Tracey and Zantzinger’s (1999b, 1999b) documentaries on the social context of Gwenzi and Mude show how these mbira artists have jobs which are not related to their musical talents or how they use their mbira playing for spiritual and cultural purposes, for performing in bira ceremonies and for other cultural practices. For many mbira players, the lack of economic resources and cultural projects means they cannot explore the mobility of mbira musical culture beyond their location or national media. During the 2000 era, the state attempted to promote local music by playing 70% Zimbabwean music on some radio stations such as national radio 1 and 2 (Chikowero, 2008: 117). However, international sanctions due to the land reform provoked an economically unsustainable situation for the cultural capital of the nation. As a result, after the hyperinflation and dollarisation of the Zimbabwean economy, the possibility of being a musician became one of the most difficult professions in Zimbabwe. Despite the difficult economic situation of musicians residing in Zimba- bwe, some of the mbira players still promote their cultural capital not only by performing at foreign institutions or at local venues, but they dedicating 82 Reconsidering the Sound Archive their professional career to teach Zimbabwean music to their local communities. Mbira players that engage in such cultural reinvigoration would include Edgar Bera and his revitalisation of Zimbabwean mbiras in Dzivarasekwa, Jacob Mafuleni teaching children how to play marimba at Tsoro centre, Pru- dence Katomene-Mbofana teaching music at Music Crossroad, or Moses Masasi teaching njari, nyunganyunga, and nhare mbira at the Zimbabwe College of Music. The twenty-two mbira players and four Zimbabwean universities that collaborated in the digital return and revitalisation project of ILAM’s mbira recordings have been essential for considering the multiple interpretations of the sound archive.

Conclusion Chimurenga music reflects the continuum of mbira musical culture in postcolonial Zimbabwe. The study of ILAM’s recordings contributed to broaden the study of disparate subaltern messages and ways of using kudeketera by different mbira players. ILAM’s recordings helped to promote the rich variety of mbira musical culture and how certain lyrical content portrays the continuum of social issues such as the migratory movements of mbira Ndau players in Zimbabwe and South Africa. In relation to the musical mobility beyond postcolonial borders, this chapter shows chimurenga music is inspired by other indigenous instruments from Zimbabwe and southern Africa, mainly bows and wind instruments. Lastly, there has been an analysis of how musicians negotiate mbira musical culture in colonial and postcolonial Zimbabwe. Many Zimbabwean musicians are challenged by the lack of promotion of cultural capital by the state and how to cope with their self-initiative to sustain musical projects.

Note 1 The songs cited in this section appear in the compilation of Zimbabwean music entitled Zimbabwe Frontline 3 (1999). Part III The Digital Return and Revitalisation Project of the Mbira Sound Archive in ZimbabweReturn and Revitalisation of the ArchiveReturn and Revitalisation of the Archive

7 Digital Return and Revitalisation of the Sound Archive in Zimbabwe

The revitalisation and digital return of ILAM’s Zimbabwean recordings was conducted by the author at four Zimbabwean universities, to twenty-two mbira players and by travelling to the locations where ILAM recorded in Zimbabwe. At an academic level, the digital return occurred at Great Zimbabwe Uni- versity (GZU) in Masvingo, Midlands State University (MSU) in Gweru, Zimbabwe College of Music (ZCM) and the University of Zimbabwe (UZ) in Harare. The digital return was completed with the edition of the books Performing Zimbabwe: A Transdisciplinary Study (forthcoming) and Nde- bele Music in Zimbabwe (forthcoming). The digital return at Zimbabwean universities also advanced the consideration of the possible repatriation of Zimbabwean mbiras from ILAM to Zimbabwean institutions or perhaps being able to borrow these mbiras for building replicas. The second consideration was the possibility of conducting archival research by local scholars who had a direct relationship with ILAM’s recordings such as Perminus Matiure’s (HOD and Music lecturer at Midlands State University) grandfather who participated in Hugh Tracey’s recording of njari players in Johan- nesburg in 1929. Another revitalisation of ILAM’s mbira recordings consisted of providing these recordings to twenty-two Zimbabwean mbira artists: Ammara Brown, Perminus Matiure, Hope Masike, David Gweshe, Victor Kunonga, Edgar Bera, Hector Rufano, Moses Masasi, Barnabas Nagalanda, George, Chaka Chawasarira, Benita Tarophiwa, Joyce, Jacob Mafuleni, Alexio Kawara, Almon Moyo, Solomon Madinga, Theresa Muteta, Zimba Shangwe, Pru- dence Katomene-Mbofana, Fungisai Zvakavapano, and Zensuasolo. The recordings given to the these mbira players led me to interview them in relation to the importance of the revitalisation of the sound archive either by performing ILAM’s recordings or for the use of the sound archive for inspirational purposes. 86 Return and Revitalisation of the Archive Regarding the digital return to the locations where ILAM recorded, the author travelled to Mutoko (Zimbabwe), Gunda village (near Rusape, Zimbabwe), and the Gwembe area in Zambia. Although none of the villagers from both countries remembered Hugh Tracey, they valued the digital return (in a CD format) of music performed in their villages approximately sixty years ago. This project offered an opportunity to reconsider the notion of preservation, memory, and revitalisation of the sound archive in Africa (Chapter Eight). The analysis of these three forms of digital return of ILAM’s Zimbabwean recordings reconsiders the notion of ethics and representation of tangible instruments and intangible cultural heritage in the sound archive. The revitalisation of sound archives not only preserves the music through listening to the recordings but it also occurs by performing and studying the recordings of music by Zimbabwean artists or international musicians. The various forms of revitalising the sound archive reinforce the idea of developing a “living archive” that links the past and the present studies of mbira music in southern Africa.

The Repatriation of Tangible Instruments and the Digital Return of Recordings From ILAM to Zimbabwean Universities ILAM’s sound archive was commercialised in many Western countries, but it was not commercially available in many of the countries where Hugh Tracey recorded. As an example, during the digital return project, most of the Zimbabwean scholars and musicians were not aware of ILAM’s mbira recordings. Thus, the revitalisation of sound archives becomes an essential exercise of linking the sound archive with the place of the recordings in order to design new projects that revitalise the music and the sound archive simultaneously. In reference to other sound archives where the music has been returned to the country of origin of the recordings, Niles provides a valuable consideration of Papua New Guinea’s recordings scattered around different Western institutions outside of Papua New Guinea.

From 1898 to the present, sound recordings have been made in Papua New Guinea by a wide variety of individuals and groups. Since 1979, the Music Department of the Institute of Papua New Guinea Studies (a government institution concerned with cultural research) has been try- ing to locate and repatriate such early recordings to the country in which they were made. (Niles, 2012: 142) Return and Revitalisation of the Archive 87 Niles returned recordings dating from 1938 to 1955 back to Papua New Guinea. During the digital return of the recordings made by Western institutions in Papua New Guinea, Niles noted that such action is more determined by ethical values of returning the music to the place of origin than by designing a project of revisiting places or developing new studies on the revitalisation of the sound archive (ibid.: 142). After reading Niles, I considered that the digital return of ILAM’s recordings from Zimbabwe should motivate new studies on Zimbabwean music by the interaction between international and Zimbabwean scholars or by using the recordings for inspirational purposes among other projects later described in Part Three. The digital return of the sound archive is also related to the preservation and revitalisation of historical recordings through the digitisation of the sound archive and returning it to the country of origin. In order to draw a par- allel with another digital return project of African recordings, approximately 1,500 items of Wachsmann’s recordings from Uganda were preserved by the British Library since 1958, until the British institution provided a copy of the recordings to the Museum of Kampala in the late 1960s before its digitisation and conversion into MP3 in which the digital return occurred at Kam- pala University in the 2000 era (Nannyonga-Tamusuza and Weintraub, 2012: 206–207). Nannyonga and Weintraub note that the digital return of musical recordings is not tangible but “a moment in time rather than an object in space” (2012: 207). In the case of ILAM’s digital return projects, the sound archive never moved away from the African continent and, therefore, the repatriation of ILAM’s music obtains a continental dimension that Wachsmann’s recordings did not have when the recordings were sent from the United Kingdom to Uganda. The first repatriation project (or digital return) of ILAM’s Zimbabwean recordings into Zimbabwe occurred when I was a postdoctoral fellow of the Unit of Zimbabwean Studies at Rhodes University. In April 2015, I donated twenty-one CDs of Zimbabwean recordings from ILAM to Zimbabwean universities. The repatriation project in the academic space opened up an interaction with Zimbabwean scholars from which I edited two interdisciplinary books related to the study of Zimbabwean music. During the editing of these books, the significant number of national scholars writing on Zimbabwean music made me aware of the need for compiling interdisciplinary books that were able to enrich the study of Zimbabwean music in Africa and internationally (see Acknowledgments). During the digital return of Zimbabwean recordings from ILAM to Zim- babwean universities, the re-evaluation of the sound archive was highlighted by many scholars as a half-completed operation by only providing the sound 88 Return and Revitalisation of the Archive repatriation and not including the tangible repatriation of Zimbabwean instruments from ILAM. The digital return of ILAM’s recordings offers a scope for historical and contemporary studies on Zimbabwean music by local scholars. However, for some Zimbabwean scholars, the return of tangible instruments resting in a permanent exhibition at ILAM objectifies the musical heritage of Zimbabwe rather than revitalising it. According to Nannyonga and Weintraub, the digital return of musical recordings is not tangible but “a moment in time rather than an object in space” (2012: 207). In contrast, certain Zimbabwean scholars proposed the digital return of ILAM’s recordings and the repatriation of musical instruments simultaneously. Nannyonga and Weintraub also define the repatriation of tangible objects as part of the return of cultural property as follows:

Repatriation generally refers to the return of people to their country of citizenship (e.g., refugees and prisoners of war) as well as the return of cultural property (e.g., art works), culturally affiliated human remains, sacred objects, and artifacts to their communities of origin. (2012: 207)

The Possible Repatriation of Musical Instruments From the Sound Archive The conversation about the return of tangible Zimbabwean instruments occurs between a transformed colonial archive from South Africa and postcolonial universities in Zimbabwe. In informal conversations with Perminus Matiure, we noted that the importance of returning instruments from the sound archive to the place of origin relies on how traditional instruments preserve intangible musical heritage; therefore, instruments are not artefacts to be preserved in museums, but living objects to be revitalised in their place of origin.1 During the digital return of ILAM’s recordings in Zimbabwe, I came to the realisation that there is a circular dichotomy between intangible digital return of the music and tangible return of musical instruments for the sound archive in postcolonial Africa between two African countries, a South African archive and Zimbabwean universities. Thus, this is a postcolonial problem between two neighbouring countries in southern Africa that needs a formal resolution in order to study the synchronicity between tangible and intangible heritage in Zimbabwean music. As Bouchenaki (2003: 2) states in relation to the symbiotic relationship between tangible and intangible cultural heritage,

Cultural heritage is a synchronized relationship involving society (that is, systems of interactions connecting people), norms and values (that is, ideas, for instance, belief systems that attribute relative importance). Return and Revitalisation of the Archive 89 Symbols, technologies and objects are tangible evidence of under- lying norms and values. Thus they establish a symbiotic relationship between the tangible and the intangible. The intangible heritage should be regarded as the larger framework within which tangible heritage takes on shape and significance.

Bouchenaki provides different examples of this symbiotic relationship between tangible and intangible cultural heritage. For instance, regarding the preservation of the tombs of the Bugunda Kings at Kasubi in Uganda, Bouchenaki notes that the tangible sculptures should be conserved as much as its intangible historical, cultural and spiritual significance (ibid.: 3). Followed by Bouchenaki’s idea of repatriation, the idea of returning the Zimbabwean lamellophones to their country of origin becomes a legitimate request by local scholars reclaiming the historical, cultural and spiritual value of the instruments. Thus, the intangible cultural heritage is conserved by the local culture and not only by virtual copies of sound archives found in multiple digit- ised archives worldwide. The intangible heritage is based on oral history, local beliefs, and the continuum of musical cultures through tangible instruments. Contrary to Williams (2005) who perceived that “culture cannot be abridged to its tangible products” (Lenzerini, 2011: 101), I argue that the repatriation of tangible instruments could be considered for the preservation of how to manufacture certain instruments, its evolution, its repertoire, and its living culture. In contrast to Lenzerini, who discusses that a living culture is based on intangible realities in constant evolution (ibid.: 112), I posit that tangible instruments are essential for the cultural development of intangible realities such as producing intangible musical sounds. There- fore, the repatriation of musical instruments emerges as a negotiation or relationship between the sound archive and the place or country where the repatriation occurs. For Kirshenblatt-Gimblett (2004: 54), the preservation of a musical style includes its instruments, clothing, and any object involved in keeping a musical culture alive. As an example, Kirshenblatt-Gimblett (ibid.: 57) states that Nogaku is protected by the Japanese government and UNESCO as intangible cultural heritage and that would include the attrezo, clothing, and other logistics to perform Nogaku. If one follows Kirshenblatt-Gimblett’s notion of preserving intangible heritage, the lamellophones found at ILAM would be part of the intangible cultural heritage of Zimbabwean mbira music. Contrary to the refusal of repatriating tangible instruments by ILAM, the return of musical instruments became popular in other parts of the world such as in the USA from the 1980s.

The 1980s saw the growth of a process sometimes called ‘repatriation,’ which is mainly, the development of archives in and for the cultures that 90 Return and Revitalisation of the Archive produced the music, and particularly then, the ‘return’ of early recordings and artifacts such as instruments. (Nettl, 2005: 168)

However, in the name of preservation, sound archives as powerful institutions dependent on their collections of tangible/intangible musical cultures do not always cede to provide the requests of repatriation by the country of origin. From such contentious form of preserving instruments as historical relics taken during colonial times, this chapter examines the interaction between Zimbabwean scholars, ILAM, and the author as intermediary between the conversation on the return of Zimbabwean mbiras to their country of origin.

The Repatriation of Tangible Objects According to ILAM According to ILAM’s ex-director, Diane Thram (2010: 2), the repatriation of the sound archive is defined as

The process through which both tangible and intangible cultural heritage is returned to its communities of origin and/or its creators. Cultural heritage is understood in two categories, tangible and intangible. Tangible heritage includes artefacts, art objects/folk art, indigenous technological tools e.g. scrapers, carving tools, musical instruments. Intangible heritage includes music, folklore/oral literature, ritual practices, cultural ceremonies, and indigenous knowledge in general.

As stated by Thram, the repatriation of tangible heritage includes the return of tangible cultural heritage. During the preparation of the digital return of ILAM’s Zimbabwean recordings, Perminus Matiure was the first Zim- babwean scholar to request the repatriation of Zimbabwean mbiras. As the responsible actor to conduct the repatriation project in Zimbabwe, I became an intermediary between the sound archive and Zimbabwean scholars. After suggesting the idea of repatriating the mbiras to Zimbabwe to ILAM during an informal conversation with Thram (ex-ILAM’s director), she rejected this idea of returning the mbiras because these lamellophones constitute around half the permanent exhibition from the sound archive. Therefore, the repatriation of tangible instruments is also conditioned by the sound archive’s interests of preserving its permanent exhibition. In the meantime, despite ILAM’s preservationist ideas of keeping African music crystallised in Return and Revitalisation of the Archive 91 permanent exhibitions, there were no clear repatriation projects exposed by Zimbabwean scholars regarding the return of tangible instruments except of Perminus Matiure’s proposal. Perminus Matiure, as the head of the Music department at Midlands State University, and as an mbira player and mbira maker, commented to me that the possibility of having the mbiras found at ILAM would contribute to further studies on the revival of Zimbabwean lamellophones in present Zimba- bwe. Given that the repatriation of tangible instruments became a matter of challenging institutional power, Matiure even asked me about the possibility of borrowing certain Zimbabwean instruments from ILAM in order to build replicas of ILAM’s Zimbabwean mbiras. In addition, at the time Matiure requested the possibility of building replicas from ILAM during my staying in Gweru, the sound archive was renewing its exhibition by placing the instruments in new exhibition cages before the Grahamstown festival in July 2015. The large investment for the permanent exhibition continued focusing on the preservation of the archive rather than on analysing the possible ways of providing a “living archive” by finding ways of interacting with Zimbabwean universities through the repatriation of Zimbabwean lamellophones.

The Scholar as Intermediary Actors Between the Sound Archive and Zimbabwean Agents With regards to the possibility of repatriating tangible instruments in the country of origin, one should consider the most appropriate space to repatriate the instruments either in place of origin, a Zimbabwean university, or a cultural institution in the province where the instrument was manufactured. Thram states a few recommendations about the negotiation for the repatriation between the archive and the community where the recordings from the sound archive come from:

The format of the repatriated material shall be determined through a dialogue between the possessor of the heritage and its community of origin. (Thram, 2010: 3)

And

An agreement should be negotiated between the holders and the recipients of the heritage, stipulating clearly − conditions for preservation; conditions for use, sale and reproduction. 92 Return and Revitalisation of the Archive And

Ownership, group or individual, must be considered in respect to copyright law and potential commercial use.

As one can observe, the advocated actions of returning the cultural heritage are always stipulated by the sound archive representatives and not by the agents where the recording were made. Thus, the notion of preservation prevails under the sound archive’s permission as the keepers of knowledge versus Zimbabwean scholars willing to repatriate tangible objects. In other words, the request of repatriating instruments by Zimbabwean agents challenges the sound archive as a powerful institution. Equally important, the recipients of the heritage have to express the conditions for preserving the archive and its reproduction which clearly are for academic and educational purposes at universities in Zimbabwe. During the digital return project in Zimbabwe, I came to the realisation that Matiure’s desire to repatriate Zimbabwean instruments triggered an unexpectedly tense dialogue regarding the sound archive, given that the digital return was considered a generous action by ILAM, which Zimbabwean academics were perceived as taking advantage of by suggesting the repatriation of Zimbabwean instruments from the sound archive. In personal conversations with Edgar Bera about the distrust of empowered institutions towards African agents, we can observe that there is a pre- conceived idea that postcolonial governments cannot preserve their own musical instruments as well as specialised sound archives from abroad. It is the equivalent to visit the British Museum not considering the possibility of returning the historical value of tangible objects from London to their countries of origin.

Power-Ethics and Intercultural Intercourse The repatriation of musical instruments also became an issue of representation for the sound archive and for a postcolonial country. ILAM, as a representative institution of African music, considers that the instruments need to be preserved and exposed at its headquarters and, on the other hand, Zimbabwean scholars requesting the repatriation of ILAM’s Zimbabwean mbiras represent a legitimate postcolonial battle for finding ways of revitalising their musical heritage through the reciprocal interaction between the sound archive and Zimbabwean agents. The representation of tangible objects such as Zimbabwean mbiras by ILAM and Zimbabwean institutions are negotiated by two different forms of ethics. Agawu (2003: 199) discusses the ethics of representation as the Return and Revitalisation of the Archive 93 symbolism of “power, social transformations and practices” and the dichotomy between rights and wrongs. For Agawu, ethics represents the “interpersonal exchange, the absence of bona fide communities removes a crucial enabling element” (ibid.: 202). Agawu continues by suggesting that the ethical interaction between a sound archive and a Zimbabwean scholar for the repatriation of tangible instruments would be called “intercultural intercourse”. The intercultural intercourse reveals different representations of the repatriation of Zimbabwean lamellophones that belong to both Zimbabwean musical culture and the sound archive. I do not attempt to agree to any of the mentioned representations, in contrast, I promote the “non-representation” of the sound archive or a postcolonial nation over the awareness of cultural crossing borders, regionalism, and musical interaction through mbiras in southern Africa. I believe that the ethics of mobility can identify more clearly the mbira musical culture in southern Africa or the cultural confluence than the territorialisation of music either through nationhood or institutional assertions. The representation of musical mobility identifies both the study of ILAM’s mbira music from southern Africa in a colonial and postcolonial historical framework, as well as the representation of mobility as fundamental to deterritorialise the colonial borders where African music is represented. It is evident that music does not only represent nationhood but it also resonates with cultural and spiritual intangible heritage. After identifying the notion of musical mobility as the first form of repatriation, either through intangible music return or tangible instruments, ILAM should ethically reconsider the possibility of returning tangible instruments to open up academic and artistic dialogues on musical or cultural mobility in the continent beyond geographical borders. Furthermore, the repatriation of tangible instruments may suggest a new dialogue between African nations about the inter-relationship between different musical cultures from the continent. Therefore, the sound archive has the potential to become a “living archive” relating to African and international scholars in the attempt to become a solid hub for the study of African music from today and yesterday. The need to complete the sound repatriation requires the ethical consideration of returning the instruments from Zimbabwe found at ILAM to the country of origin as part of the intangible-tangible cultural heritage. However, the notion of ethics asserts different opinions in which, in the name of preserving or representing the music, the instruments and recordings may not be revitalised in the country of origin.

Conclusion This chapter has demonstrated that the repatriation of the sound archive at ILAM should also consider the return of the instruments to the country of 94 Return and Revitalisation of the Archive origin. Multiple forms of repatriation beyond the academic space are also necessary in order to expose the repatriation to different social spheres as observed in the next chapters.

Note 1 During February 2016, Perminus Matiure hosted me at his house in Gweru. We exchanged conversations about mbira studies and the possibility of repatriating Zimbabwean mbiras from ILAM’s permanent exhibition. 8 Revitalising the Repertoire Through Zimbabwean

MusiciansReturn and Revitalisation of the ArchiveRevitalising the Repertoire

The second digital return project conducted by the author consisted of revitalising ILAM’s mbira recordings through mbira musicians. While the first digital return happened in academic spaces, the latter was conducted by the author in different urban and rural spaces in search of performing ILAM’s recordings with mbira artists. During February–March 2016, I brought the Zimbabwean recordings from ILAM to twenty-two Zimbabwean mbira artists: Ammara Brown (Harare), Perminus Matiure (Gweru), Hope Masike (Harare), David Gweshe (Dzivarasekwa), Victor Kunonga (Harare), Edgar Bera (Dzivarasekwa), Hector Rufano (Harare), Moses Masasi (Harare), Barnabas Nagalande (Rusape), King George (Rusape), Chaka Chawasarira (Chitungwiza), Benita Tarophiwa (Kwadzana), Joyce (Mondoro), Jacob Mafuleni (Dzivarasekwa), Alexio Kawara (Harare), Almon Moyo (Gweru), Solomon (Chipinge), Theresa Muteta (Marondera), Zimba Shangwe (Cres- cent Warren Park), Prudence Katomene-Mbofana (Harare), Fungisai Zvakavapano (Harare), and Zensuasolo (Gweru). The recordings attributed to the mentioned mbira players also led me to interview them in relation to the importance of the revitalisation of the sound archive by either performing the mbira recordings, or for the inspirational purposes of listening to traditional songs from the 1930s to the 1970s. During the second digital return, I focused on the revitalisation of the sound archive as a “living archive” from which I was concerned with the revitalisation of ILAM’s mbira repertoire by mbira players.

The Notion of Sound Repatriation by Ethnomusicologists Through Ethics and Advocated Forms of Revitalising the Archive From Lancefield’s (1998: 51) study on the idea of repatriating the sound archive, he analysed thirty-eight Western sound archives, of which approximately two-thirds (twenty-seven sound archives) were involved in 96 Return and Revitalisation of the Archive repatriation activities since 1952. Lancefield noted that most of the returned music was not for commercial purposes but for other purposes such as academic or educational interest (ibid.: 53). From Lancefield’s research, he also stated that “over eighty per cent of the twenty seven archives had returned recordings to individuals. Close to ninety per cent had repatriated to institutions. Lesser numbers had done so with organisations such as libraries, community centres, and schools” (ibid.). In contrast to Lancefield’s observations on the repatriation of sound archives mostly from the Western world, with regards to the digital return of the Zimbabwean recordings from ILAM, the recordings cannot be given to individuals who participated in the recordings because they are no longer alive; however, I ensured that the sound archive is now stored in different music institutions, and brought to musicians and some of the locations where the recordings were made. Hilder (2012) adds a new value to the repatriation projects by revitalising the sound archive through musical performances of Sámi people from Fin- land, Norway, Sweden and Russia. The cultural border crossing of the Sámi people was revived by different scholars in the attempt to promote and preserve the Sámi musical heritage through the sound archive and its continuum through present musical performances (ibid.: 161). For Hilder, the revitalisation of the sound archive should contain a practical element of performing the music beyond ethical purposes of returning the music back to the community. The advocated emphasis of Hilder by using performance in order to revive Sámi music was inspired by Taylor’s (2003) difference between “the archive and the repertoire in cultural knowledge transmission” (Hilder, 2012: 168). For Taylor (2003: 21), cultural knowledge transmission refers to the importance of addressing how traditional music is transmitted in a particular local context. Within the notion of cultural knowledge transmission, the preservation of a musical culture is based on revitalising the so-called traditional repertoire. By collaborating with the Sámi music teacher Frode Fjellheim, Hilder explores a way in which education and the Sámi music repertoire is revived. Frode Fjellheim revitalises the Sámi traditional repertoire from the sound archive by performing the sound archive and by adding new musical aspects in Sámi musical culture in the educational context. As a result, the revitalisation obtains a creative aspect by local musicians either in the musical scene or in the educational context.

Fjellheim’s (1991b) first CD Sangen vi glemte [The Song We Forgot], released in 1991, was a direct result of his exploration into Karl Tire’n’s transcriptions following music composed for a piece by A° arjelhsae- mien Teatere [South Sámi Theatre] in 1989. . . . [W]ritten for a number of live instrumentalists as well as synthesised and sampled natural Revitalising the Repertoire 97 soundscapes, the CD consists of 11 tracks. . . . [I]n the CD liner notes, Fjellheim writes: ‘I hope that this recording can cast light over a cultural heritage we all can enjoy, and give new life to songs we forgot’ (1991a, n.p.). In his work with Transjoik, however, Fjellheim began to incorpo- rate the original archive recordings within the sonic composition of their songs, both on CD and in live performance. (2003: 170)

In this chapter, I examine the different aspects in which the present mbira repertoire performed by the mbira musicians relates to the repertoire from the sound archive. This type of revitalisation of the repertoire is not only revived by its digital return to mbira artists but through the similarities with the music played between the songs from the archive and contemporary songs by contemporary artists. In contrast to Hilder’s views on the idea of the traditional repertoire as a way of revitalising the sound archive, I argue that the repertoire is not conditioned by the sound archive or the possibility of performing it, but by the artist’s notion of “the repertoire” and “tradition”. In other words, the notion of traditional repertoire should be conditioned by the artist’s agency and not by performing the sound archive. I consider that the sound archive offers certain reflections about the musical similarities between songs from the archive and the musicians’ repertoires; however, the sound archive does not always contain the “traditional repertoire”, but has valuable information or reference to a musical culture. From this point of view, there is not an imposed repertoire in mbira musical culture but repertoires are chosen by different artists. As part of using the notion of “repertoires” to revive the sound archive, I will examine how Zimbabwean mbira artists use similar harmonic arrangements to the mbira repertoire found at the archive, such as the Shona chord cadence, the awareness of the Shona chord cadence beyond Mashonaland by the artists, considerations on the repertoire and musical innovation through Hope Masike’s concerts and conferences in Grahamstown where ILAM’s headquarters are located, and considerations on the lyrical content of the music from the archive as inspirational by the Zimbabwean contemporary artists interviewed for this chapter and as part of the study on the mbira repertoires.

The Construction of the Repertoires and Musical Similarities With Contemporary Songs During the donation of Zimbabwean recordings from ILAM to mbira artists, their appreciation of ILAM’s mbira recordings was always open to multiple 98 Return and Revitalisation of the Archive interpretations with regards to their notion of mbira repertoires. As part of the discussion, many of the musicians pointed out the similarities between the Shona chord cadence from the recordings and their own, contemporary songs, emphasising that certain musical variations heard on the recordings from the sound archive are no longer heard in contemporary mbira music such as the virtuosity of Sinyoro’s njari recordings (Salisbury, 1949) or the rapid sequences of Saini Madera on the matepe mbira (Mutoko, 1958). For some mbira players, such as the mbira mapete performer Chaka Cha- wasarira, the mbira songs from the sound archive help him to remember certain tunes and to learn different variations (kushaura) within his mbira repertoire. Chawasarira is able to play the nyunganyunga, nhare, and matepe, therefore, he can show the main differences within the Shona chord cadence and kushaura variations of different Shona mbiras. For Chawasarira, the sound archive is useful for his studies on mbira playing as a gwenyambira (mbira master). In Chawasarira’s notion of the traditional repertoire, there are songs that have the same cyclical pattern within the different Zimba- bwean mbiras; however, the way in which the artist continues creating new variations enriches the multiple ways in which mbira music continues evolving its repertoires (interviewed 29 January, 2016). The mbira nhare player Benita Tarupiwa pointed out that the longevity of the recordings demonstrates that ILAM’s mbira recordings continue being performed because of their popularity and spirituality (interviewed 5 Feb- ruary, 2016). As a case in point, Tarupiwa is one of the few mbira players interviewed that asserts that she learnt from her grandfather during her dreams when she was a child. Therefore, the fact that no one (in physical life) taught her how to play the mbira demonstrates that the mbira repertoires and the sound of mbira songs may contain relevant spiritual connotations (see Chapters Four and Six). For Tarupiwa, the revitalisation of ILAM’s mbira recordings has been useful for inspirational purposes and to reconsider his mbira repertoire. In musical terms, as part of finding similarities between Tarupiwa’s repertoire and the sound archive, she has songs that contain the Shona cord cadence such as her version of Bangidza CEAA/ CFAA/DFAA/CFGG. Tarupiwa’s use of popular songs in her repertoire reflects that the possible classification of mbira repertoires can only be decided by the artist given that not all the mbira artists interviewed use the same repertoire or ways of performing traditional songs such as Bangidza. The revitalisation of the sound archive provides a different impact to each individual artist. Many mbira players that perform similar traditional songs not only used the sound archive to explore the different variations from popular songs, but also to study the sound of Zimbabwean mbiras with similar repertoires such as the young mbira makers and performers Jacob Mafu- leni, Edgar Bera, or Almon Moyo. The three aforementioned mbira makers Revitalising the Repertoire 99 emphasised the importance of being able to listen to the sound archive in order to revitalise the mbira making, mbira technique, and the chosen repertoires of certain instruments such as the njari, matepe, or mbira Ndau. For instance, Almon Moyo commented that most of his mbira making is based on building nyunganyungas for schools and sometimes he also builds mbira nhares; however, the other Shona mbiras that appear in the archive are not popular anymore in Gweru (interviewed 13 February, 2016). Moyo continues by saying that recently he built his first njari for an elder around Shu- gurwi, a location twenty kilometres away from Gweru. As a mbira maker, Moyo emphasises that his revitalisation of the sound archive will consist of a revival of certain mbiras such as the njari given that, according to Moyo, the mbira repertoire is also a “living matter” through other lamellophones such as the nhare or nyunganyunga. Another important contribution for the revitalisation of the archive has been made possible by the performer and mbira maker Jacob Mafuleni. He has performed internationally with Chiwoniso for many years, from which he realised the global appreciation of Zimbabwean music and developed his interest in making mbiras and marimbas. Jacob Mafuleni is also a great connoisseur of many national dances after being part of David Gweshe’s dance troupe and performing with him throughout the country. Mafuleni also teaches children how to perform on marimbas in his neighbourhood in Dzi- varasekwa. As a result, Mafuleni contributes to the preservation of indigenous music in multiple ways as a teacher, musician and instrument maker. The donation of ILAM’s Zimbabwean recordings to him has been relevant for all his facets as an educator, artist and luthier. One of his most important contributions for the revitalisation of the mbira repertoire is the possibility of using the sound archive for inspirational purposes and to re-enact songs from the archive on his munyonga. Therefore, the revitalisation of the Zimbabwean mbiras and their repertoires not only occurs by playing the instrument or finding new tunes from the sound archive, but by building the instrument, performing, and being actively involved with multiple activities related to the constant revitalisation of the mbiras. Thus, the revitalisation does not happen by the simple action of returning the recordings from the sound archive to the country of origin or performing ILAM’s recordings, but rather by the different forms of sustaining the mbira musical culture and its repertoire by instrument makers, performers, listeners, and ultimately its possible global interest.

The Revitalisation of the Mbira Ndau and Its Cultural Value Another active mbira maker and performer, Edgar Bera (interviewed 9 Feb- ruary, 2016), has been working with the author on designing forthcoming 100 Return and Revitalisation of the Archive publications such as the educational DVD series on how to play six types of Shona mbiras and the documentary Edgar Bera and the Revitalisation of the Mbira Sound Archive. As part of the revitalisation of the Shona mbiras, he manufactures the different types of Zimbabwean mbiras and commercialised them through his mbira factory, the Mbira Republic. One of Bera’s most remarkable contributions to the revitalisation of mbira musical culture has been though his interest in the mbira Ndau. Initially, the interest in the mbira Ndau by the author was thanks to another mbira player, Hector Rungani, who is highly interested in the music from the Manyika people and Ndau music from eastern Zimbabwe. Rungani’s interest in mbira Ndau led me to meet Bera and Madinga. Therefore, the interest of different mbira players on mbira Ndau led me to the find ways of revitalising mbira Ndau music through the help of Rungani, Bera and Madinga. In comparison to the revitalisation of the njari or munyonga by Moyo and Mafuleni, the revitalisation of the mbira Ndau repertoire considers the possibilities of revitalising ILAM’s Ndau recordings by acknowledging its cultural value. During 2015–2016, the mbira Ndau player Solomon Madinga visited Bera in Dzivarasekwa for job purposes in Harare. Bera as mbira player and instrument maker has built mbira Ndaus and has been interviewing Madinga in order to gain more information on the social interaction between the mbira Ndau and its social context. According to Bera’s interviews with Madinga, one of the main elements that the mbira Ndau differs from other Shona mbiras is not only its hexatonic sound, but also the purpose for playing it, which is generally for entertainment and not for spiritual purposes (interviewed 9 February, 2016). The revitalisation of the Ndau is more complex than the other Shona mbiras given that it does not have a harmonic and barely any linguistic relationship with other Shona groups; therefore, the revitalisation of the mbira Ndau needs other methods to be appreciated by the national audience interested in mbira studies. Due to the general lack of mbira Ndau recordings in Zimbabwe, Bera was extremely grateful for the donation of the mbira Ndau recordings from ILAM in order to learn how to play mbira Ndau songs from the sound archive such as Mandowa. On the other hand, due to the difficulties of finding forms of promoting mbira Ndau either in Chipinge or in the rest of the country, the revitalisation of the mbira Ndau plays a vital role for the continuum of this musical culture by the mbira maker Bera and Madinga.

Hope Masike Concert and Workshops at ILAM: Revitalisation of the Mbira Repertoire and Musical Innovation Hope Masike, as one of the main musical innovators of nyunganyunga music, became one of the main collaborators for the revitalisation of ILAM’s Revitalising the Repertoire 101 recordings from Zimbabwe. Through the sponsorship of the Unit of Zimba- bwean Studies, Masike also visited Grahamstown to perform and present some papers on mbira music at ILAM in May 2015. In this case, the revitalisation of mbira music from ILAM occurred in the sound archive which provided new forms of reconsidering the archive and the mbira repertoires by a Zimbabwean artist. Firstly, Masike’s music is influenced by traditional mbira songs, Ameri- can jazz and rock, American songwriters such as Bob Dylan, gospel, and sungura. She is a musical innovator of the mbira nyunganyunga, combining different types of musical styles. During Masike’s concerts at Rhodes University, the Zimbabwean artist performed with local musicians and the author. The possibility of doing such a concert provided a great platform to combine South African jazz, Spanish guitar, and nyunganyunga as part of using the revitalisation of the sound archive through musical innovation. During her conferences about the present situation of Zimbabwean music in the country, an ethnomusicologist who attended Masike’s paper commented on her not being “a real African woman” because of her clothing and the fact that her music is not “purely Shona”. This comment was based on the crystallisation of Shona identity as rural and primitive. The notion of authen- ticism in Shona music has been widely used by many scholars that refuse to accept the technological and musical innovation in the African continent; therefore, they cannot accept the appreciation of an African artist producing a musical product that combines the nyunganyunga traditional repertoire with other musical styles. If musical innovation occurs through many mbira artists these days, one should question what it is about the mbira repertoire that allows one to assim- ilate the different musical styles in which the nyunganyunga and other types of Zimbabwean mbiras have been involved.

Conclusion The revitalisation of the mbira repertoires have occurred differently according the artist’s interest in his instrument in the mbira repertoires or instrument making. The possibilities of the artist engaging with the sound archive depends on the exposure and knowledge of the instrument, such as Chaka Chawasarira, who could use the archive to remember certain songs and learn some kushaura variations. On the other hand, according to other mbira artists interviewed during my research, the sound archive helps for the revitalisation of the mbira repertoires and for promoting the local instruments in Zimba- bwe and globally. The revitalisation of the archive and the mbira repertoire will always depend on the genuine interest of the local artists, the intermediaries from the sound archive, and the outcomes from the public response to the digital return project. 102 Return and Revitalisation of the Archive This chapter suggests that the revitalisation of the sound archive does not involve the imposition of building a mbira repertoire given that the repertoire is constantly evolving and is personally constructed. However, there is a need for mbira makers and performers to promote other Shona mbiras found at ILAM such as the njari, matebe, or mbira Ndau. The role of Bera, Mafuleni, Chawasarira, or Matiure is essential for the continuation of the mentioned instruments in Zimbabwe. Further to this, the revitalisation of the sound archive through mbira players is vital, and the capability of innovating is also essential for the continuation of the mbira repertoires. 9 The Digital Return in the

Place of the RecordingsReturn and Revitalisation of the ArchiveReturn in the Place of the Recordings

The digital return of ILAM’s recordings in the locations where Hugh Tracey recorded has been a symbolic form of returning the music back to the community. However, this type of repatriation has not had the same continuity as the digital return project at universities through books and publications or the revitalisation of ILAM’s recordings with mbira players by playing the music from the sound archive. The places where I conducted the digital return of mbira recordings occurred in Gunda village (near Rusape) and Mutoko (Chaberhwa village) in Zimbabwe, and Chomba for the digital return of the recordings from the Gwembe area in Zambia. With regards to the digital return in the place where the recordings were made, the project has been conducted by other scholars and graduate students such as Diana Thram in Tanzania and Kenya, by Mojaki in Botswana, and by Elijah Moleseng Madiba in South Africa. The three mentioned agents have provided different ways of conducting the digital return of ILAM’s recordings. Diane Thram was contracted by the Singing Wells Project to embark on the digital return of the song chemichura under the title project of “Lost Songbooks” (www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gi8xeDrsQTs) in Kenya. Later she also conducted the digital return of taarab music from Zanzibar and other Hugh Tracey recordings from Mombasa. In addition to this, the digital return of the sound archive has been an ongoing project by Diane Thram in various African countries such as Kenya, Malawi, Uganda, and Tanzania. Another form of revitalising the archive by Thram occurred during her time as ILAM director by leading the digitisation of the sound archive which made ILAM’s recordings accessible globally. The digitisation of ILAM’s recordings provided a great platform for researchers on African music and for students in ethnomusicology around the world. Mojaki (2015), as a citizen from Botswana, focused on the digital return of the sound archive from Botswana in the place where the recordings were located and by emphasising the notion of memory related to the stories contained within songs. In particular, Mojaki conducted the digital return of 104 Return and Revitalisation of the Archive twenty recordings to the Bangwaketse community of Botswana. Mojaki notes that in order to revitalise ILAM’s recordings in the Bangwaketse community, there was a need to promote different ways of social development in which audiences, performers, and cultural institutions provide cultural sustainabil- ity. Mojaki also emphasises the need to bring the music into the educational system in order to promote the sound archive to locals from an early age. Madiba, as the sound technician of ILAM, has a great knowledge of the music from ILAM’s sound archive. He has conducted the digital return of ILAM’s archive in villages around the Eastern Cape emphasising the idea of the musician’s role to revitalise the music of the archive and by using samplers from ILAM’s recordings by local DJs, among other forms of revitalisation. The digital return and revitalisation of ILAM’s music to the places of origin of the recordings offers a direct relationship between the recording and the place where the recordings were made. Mojaki and Madiba have conducted the digital return and revitalisation of the sound archive as insiders and nationals in their respective countries. The revitalisation of the sound archive offers different approaches depending on the scholar who is conducting the digital return. Mojaki examines the construction of memory through the sound archive. On the other hand, Madiba focuses on the revitalisation of South African music not only as a national, but as a musician and sound technician; therefore, he is able to engage with new forms of revitalisation through the use of compositional and technological resources. The digital return by the author emphasised performance by being able to play different types of mbiras (nhare, njari munyonga, nyunganyunga, matepe, and Ndau) and the reconsideration of postcolonial studies in order to link precolonial, colonial and postcolonial narratives on mbira studies. In this chapter I recount the different observations about the digital return in the places where the mbira recordings were made by Hugh and Andrew Tracey in Mutoko, Gunda village, and the Gwembe area. In order to analyse the purpose of the digital return where the recordings were made, firstly, I provide a critical analysis of the sound archive as a source and as a subject. The archive as a source analyses the compilation of information in a CD format for the digital return, and the archive as a subject considers the ethics involved with the process of returning the music in the place where the recording was made.

ILAM: The Source and the Subject for the Digital Return The recordings for the digital return were prepared by Madiba and Diane Thram at ILAM. The CDs contained the information of the songs recorded Return in the Place of the Recordings 105 by Hugh Tracey such as the location, year, and musicians participating in the recording. During the preparation of the digital return, Diane Thram advised me to provide the CDs to schools and chiefs. Most importantly, she wanted to ensure that the digital return held both cultural and educational value in the area of research. Secondly, as part of the digital return to the locations where the music was recorded, the only requirement of ILAM was to provide pictures of the locations where the digital return occurred. The interaction with the archive was fluid and clear with respect to the possible goals of the project being the possibility of building networks with the places where Hugh and Andrew Tracey recorded for further studies and comparative analyses between the music of the past and the present. The importance of reconsidering ILAM as a source is based on the value of the recordings and how those recordings are negotiated by the sound archive, intermediaries, and the location where the sound digital return occurs. The digital return is not destined for commercial purposes but for educational, social, musical, or cultural revitalisation of the music from the sound archive. Furthermore, ILAM is concerned with the accessibility of the recordings either through the digital return or through digitisation of the archive which provides accessibility worldwide (or to people with access to the internet).

The Purpose of the Digital Return in the Place of the Recordings One of the points that other ethnomusicologists have been concerned about is the sound repatriation that occurs after the digital repatriation. According to Nannyonga-Tamusuza and Weintraub (2012: 208), the sound repatriation in the location of origin is defined as follows:

This study of sound repatriation aims to preserve and interpret histories of cultural encounter so that they can be retold and reinterpreted in the future. Sound repatriation is not a simple matter of returning what was once taken away, but rather a process that demands attention to cultural, ethical, and legal issues.

The cultural, ethical, and legal issues are managed by the sound archive; however, these issues do not empower the villages and subaltern spaces where music can be returned or repatriated. As an example, during the digital return of ILAM’s music in Gunda village, the recordings were given to the chief of the village and to some schools with the hope that the music returned is valued and heard by the community. 106 Return and Revitalisation of the Archive Later, I came to the realisation that from an ethical perspective, the digital return should be firstly considered by the community and how the sound recordings become relevant to the community. In the last instance, the sound recordings remain digitally repatriated and archived in the location where the recording was made. However, under high expectations from the sound archive to value the digital return of recordings by local actors, I argue that after certain communication with agents from the place where the digital return occurs, the revitalisation of the sound archive should be led and continued by the community or through their interest in the repatriated recordings. In contrast, from previous digital return projects with universities and mbira players, I was able to continue by publishing books with Zimbabwean scholars or performing with local artists. However, during the digital return project in the locations where Hugh Tracey recorded, I found myself forcing a repatriation project because the chief or the community was not always genuinely interested in the revitalisation of ILAM’s recordings. In other words, the power dynamics between the archive and the scholars interacting with a local community are evident. As Nannyonga-Tamusuza and Weintraub (2012: 209) state, the sound repatriation has been generally conducted from colonial archives to various communities in different countries such as Peru, South Africa, India, Bali, or Afghanistan; therefore, the sound repatriation is also a cultural critique of colonialism and power relationships between institutions, scholars, and communities.

Repatriation is a form of cultural critique: a critical and reflexive discourse about the social relations of power in cultural representations, and a model for dissembling and potentially undoing those relations.

Many scholars do not recognise the power relationship between the sound archive, scholars, and locals where the digital return is conducted. There are certain scholars that justify their sound repatriation projects in “underde- veloped areas” by convincing themselves that they are doing a good action or “the right thing” by bringing back their music and somehow forcing the social and cultural interaction. One of the first steps to consider with sound repatriation projects in the locations where music was recorded by sound archivists should be based on reconsidering the sound archive as an empowered institution. In order to address such empowered relationships by sound archives, one needs to consider the origins of these sound archives. Fargion (2004: 447) states that the origins of the sound archives were partly invented by European institutions to store the music of the colonies, such as the Austrian Academy of Science Return in the Place of the Recordings 107 in 1899, ILAM in 1954, and the British Institute of Recorded Sound in 1947, which later became part of the British Library in 1983. Fargion continues by saying that the whole section of Traditional and World Music at the British Library consists of approximately 120,000 items (ibid.: 449). It includes 335 private collections made by Westerners in different parts of the globe, including Asia, Africa, Latin America, and Eastern Europe. In addition to this, the World Music section from the British Library “includes 3200 ethnographic field recordings made on wax cylinder dating from as early as 1898” (ibid.: 448). It is difficult to imagine the magnitude of the digital return of the sound archive from the 335 private collections or, in any case, to lead the initiative of being the intermediary scholar to conduct such sound repatriation between the British Library and the locations of the recordings. A similar question can be asked about the British Museum repatriation where there are hardly any tangible British artefacts. In reference to the conception of sound archives as empowered agents by the state and globally in which in the name of preservation or repatriation maintain their power, Allen (2007: 266) states that

Adopting an approach common in colonial and post-colonial studies, I regard ‘records and archives as contested sites of power’ that need to be under stood ‘as dynamic technologies of rule which actually create the histories and social realities they ostensibly only describe’.” Par- ticular configurations of power are articulated through what archives include and exclude. Archival contents may therefore be understood as monuments to hegemonic power, but may also be read against the grain: the omissions and exclusions revealing oppositional, alternative positions. Whether read with or against the grain, archives are not static, inert repositories of facts that need to be interpreted cognisant of possible bias. Rather, archives and archival practices change continuously in response to new technologies, shifting organisational cultures, and vari- able societal demands. Furthermore, the users and shapers of archives (historians, records creators, records managers, and archivists) are involved in ongoing processes of meaning-making that tend to become naturalized, internalized, and unquestioned.

Followed by Allen’s views, the consideration of a colonial archive in a postcolonial period should address the new changes occurring in the location of the recordings in the past and present. With regard to the awareness of time-space, the change from the colonial to the postcolonial period has brought different perspectives or ethnic differences to the territorialisation of Africa. For instance, Nannyonga-Tamusuza 108 Return and Revitalisation of the Archive and Weintraub (2012: 217) state that during the digital return of Wachs- manns’s archive in Uganda, in some areas where the sound repatriation occurred people have migrated. Furthermore, the notion of clans is not as clear as it was 60 years ago, to the extent that some people from the same clan married between themselves, breaking the functionality of the clan’s system based on the marriage between two people from different clans. This is similar to the totemic functional system in order to avoid intermarriages between the same clans in Zimbabwe. Due to the changes occurring over the time of the recordings and the present, the sound repatriation obtains a new scope, given that due to its colonial and preservationist past, ILAM is in the process of revitalising itself through activities such as the digital return by different agents in postcolonial countries. Reconsidering ILAM as an empowered sound archive, I analyse the digital return in relation to social relationships in postcolonial Zimbabwe yet conditioned by chieftainship-based social systems of heritage vaguely transpiring under the idea of Zimbabwean citizenship. The sound repatriation project in the locations where the music was recorded should not only be conceived as a form of returning the music from the colonial archive to the place of origin. One of the possibilities to undo those power relationships is by firstly providing space for the local people to determine the continuum of the digital return and its revitalisation.

The Sound Repatriation in Zimbabwe and Zambia: Critical and Reflexive Discourse From Personal to Institutional During the digital return project in rural areas in Zimbabwe and Zambia I faced two main challenges: finding the appropriate places to donate the music in the village, and determining the most appropriate and accessible format in which the music should be returned. I considered these two factors essential to build a productive network for the agents involved in the digital return. If the local agents of the music repatriated are not able to revitalise the music by playing it in schools and rural homes, the sound repatriation project may end up stored in schools and chiefs’ homes without any expected form of revitalisation of the sound archive. In addition, the technological format in which the music is returned during the sound repatriation is essential for the accessibility of the music to local people. As previously mentioned, Thram insisted in the possibility of doing the sound repatriation of ILAM’s music at places where people have access to CD players such as schools and, secondly, Thram also recommended that I give the recordings to chiefs or councils in Return in the Place of the Recordings 109 the location where the sound repatriation occurs. As a result, ILAM’s recordings were brought in a CD format to schools, chiefs and museums. a) Digital Return in Gunda Village: Mbira Players, Schools, and Chiefs In Gunda village, the sound repatriation occurred thanks to the mbira players Barnabas Nagalande and George. These mbira players drove me to Gunda village where we had a meeting with the chief from the village. We talked about the recordings from which we learned that the chief did not remember Hugh Tracey visiting the village in the 1950s. In order to provide the CD to other people in the surrounding areas, we followed Thram’s advice by bringing ILAM’s recordings to local schools, and previous to the meeting with the chief from Gunda village, we donated ILAM’s recordings from Gunda village to the primary school of Chinamasa (twenty kilometres from Gunda village) where Barnabas resides. Finally, I also donated another CD to Barnabas and George in order to provide more interest about the recordings from Gunda village to musicians around the area with the hope of returning one day and obtaining more information about the recordings repatriated. b) Digital Return in Mutoko: the Impossibility of Arriving at the Village Mutoko is a small town full of districts spread over fifty kilometres. ILAM’s recordings were from Mtoka district and specifically from Chaberhwa village. Chaberhwa is twenty kilometres from Mutoko; however, the tar road to get to Chaberhwa is in extremely poor condition. Given the difficulty to arrive at Chaberhwa village, I decided to donate the recordings to Mutoko’s monument where there are some ruins of the Makate’s kingdom from Neoreka’s ancestor (interview with the custodian of Mutoko monument, 4 February, 2016). The difficulty of conducting the digital return of ILAM’s recordings was exacerbated due to a lack of financial support. Thus the custodian of Mutoko monument recommended that we contact his seniors from the National Museum in Harare in order to continue with the digital return of ILAM’s recordings in Buhera and Chibi. By doing so, I established a new connection with a national institution that was meant to help to complete the sound repatriation of some of the mbira recordings from ILAM. Further, the network of local historians spread around the country became the main resource for future sound repatriations of Zimbabwean recordings from ILAM in the places of where the recordings were made. Further, the institutional and academic support of Ngara from Great Zimbabwe University to 110 Return and Revitalisation of the Archive conduct the digital return of ILAM’s recordings from Chibi, and Dr Matiure from Midlands University’s interest in the digital return of the music from Buhera, enhanced the possibilities of conducting the sound repatriation of ILAM’s Zimbabwean recordings by local historians and national ethnomusicologists. As a result, the idea of returning ILAM’s Zimbabwean recordings passed from personal interest to national involvement or in-reach engagement with scholars and national institutions. Through the National Museum of Harare and its local historians, I aimed to repatriate ILAM’s recordings from Zimbabwe by revisiting places where the njari (Gweru, Masvingo, Chibi, Bhuhera, and Chivhu), matepe (Mutoko at Mukota district and Mount Darwin), Huru (Goromonzi), nyonganyonga (Nyanga district by Barwe people), and mbira Ndau (Chipinge) songs were recorded by Hugh and Andrew Tracey. Furthermore, the sound repatriation aimed to contact the families and places where the mbira recordings were made. The opportunity to interview the musicians’ families would have been of tremendous value. In order to conduct this digital return project, I organised the families’ names of the mbira musicians for the local historians from the National Museum:

Masvingo: Simon Mashoko Chibi: Tawagaza Sibanda, Matuwenga Shawa, and Wambai Gweru: Mukomondera Moyo, Manyoni Wanyamande Chivhu: Gwenzi Bhuhera: Saimoni Masoka Goromonzi: James Gwezhe Soko Mutoko at Mukota district: Saini Madera and Saini Murira Chipinge: Simon MafiruSithole M. Darwin: Chief Makuni (Josam) in E. Darwin and Chief Dotito (Hasha) in W. Darwin Bindura/Gokwe and Madziwa: For mbira matebe (unknown performers) Nyanga district: Unknown performer of mbira nyonganyonga

This research by scholars and cultural institutions would have provided a copy of the music recorded by ILAM to the families of these performers and to music schools in the areas of research. Later, after the sound repatriation has been completed, there will be an opportunity for finding valuable information about ILAM’s recordings from the local historians informed by the people where the sound repatriation was conducted. In what followed, the digital return project was paralysed due to lack of financial support from ILAM, Rhodes University, the Unit of Zimbabwean Return in the Place of the Recordings 111 Studies, Zimbabwean universities, and the National Museum of History in Harare. The digital return project became an institutional issue. In order to complete the sound repatriation of ILAM’s Zimbabwean recordings, there is a need for institutional support from the mentioned agents. The author as the intermediary of the sound repatriation became conditioned by the institutional relations of power (Nannyonga and Weintraub, 2012: 209). c) The Digital Return in Zambia: Museums and Personal Hope In Zambia, I did not have academic or national support for the sound repatriation. The only music to be repatriated belonged to kankobela lamellophones from the Gwembe area which comes from the surrounding areas from the Kariba dam bordering Zimbabwe. For such repatriation, Tafadzwa Chevo recommended that I contact both Bert Witkamp from the Choma Museum, and the musical archive at the Chikuni mission in Monze. From those con- tacts, I decided to conduct the digital return of Zambian recordings with Witkamp at Choma Museum and later he provided another copy of ILAM’s recordings to the Chikuni mission in Monze. The interest in the music from the Gwembe area is valuable for the museum; however, I did not meet any kankobela musicians and no one who could introduce me to musicians in Zambia. As a result, the digital return of Zambian recordings was rather a symbolic return of the music without any form of continuity until further research.

Final Thoughts on the Digital Return of ILAM’s Recordings in the Location Where the Recordings Were Made The digital return in the locations where the recordings were made by Hugh and Andrew Tracey became most frustrating given the lack of institutional support. On the other hand, I did not encounter genuine interest in the digital return of recordings by local villagers or, at least, as valuable as the sound repatriation and revitalisation of the archive in academic spaces and with mbira musicians. The digital return in the locations of the recordings became a symbolic return of the music. In resonance with Fargion’s (2004: 447) observations about the creation of the sound archives by Western institutions, I believe that in oral musical traditions such as mbira, the digital return of music does not always attract the insiders but rather academic and institutional spaces; therefore, the sound repatriation in the locations of the recordings became an institutional and academic theme rather than becoming part of the subaltern space in the villages where the music is repatriated. As Allen states (2007: 266), the users of 112 Return and Revitalisation of the Archive sound archives, either academics, “records creators, records managers, and archivists are involved in ongoing processes of meaning-making that tend to become naturalized, internalized, and unquestioned”. Therefore, the idea of repatriating the recordings from sound archive in the villages where the music becomes a symbolic return of intangible cultural heritage detached from the sound archive agenda. On the other hand, Seeger (1986: 264) suggests that sound archives are inspirational spaces that provide multiple direc- tions and open to new interpretations.

Some will become one of the building blocks of cultural and political movements; some will bring alive the voice of a legendary ancestor for an individual; some will stimulate budding musicians, some will soothe the pain of exile, and some will be used for restudies of primary data that may revolutionize approaches to world music. Yet it is certain that archives can serve the fundamental aims of ethnomusicologists, and the aspirations of the peoples recorded, only if the collections are deposited in them in the first place. (Seeger, 1986: 264) 10 Curricula Transformation in the African Academy

Through the Sound ArchiveReturn and Revitalisation

of the ArchiveTransformation in the African Academy

ILAM has gone through several processes of reconsidering its preservation, sound repatriation, and revitalisation. Further to this is the need to establish the sound archive as a place of “musical knowledge” that has undergone processes of decolonisation and new forms of nationhood since its creation in 1954. During the ongoing process of decolonisation in postcolonial Africa, I have experienced that between South Africa and Zimbabwe, the notion of nationhood and its states does not always bring awareness of the similarities and its cultural border crossings as observed in this study on mbira music in southern Africa. The Zimbabwean discourse on decolonisation through land reform and the liberation war is different to the democratic-liberal and African renaissance discourse of the ANC in South Africa. As Mbembe notes “On the Postcolony” (2001: 5–6), the state boundaries are also boundaries of knowledge because culture is represented by the state as “struggles of representation” of nationhood. In Zimbabwe and South Africa, the representation of cultural nationhood through the state also coheres with Fanon’s statement from The Wretched of the Earth by saying “use the past with the intention of opening the future” (1968: 187). The sound archive is a representation of the past that reveals a “living culture”, the non-static evolution of music, and it resonates with multiple forms of cultural identity either for the subaltern spaces or for the postcolonial state. In post-apartheid South Africa, ILAM represents a colonial archive transformed into an “African” Library by post-apartheid South Africans and international agents.

Africanising the Academia As Mudimbe suggest in the title of his book The Invention of Africa (1988), Africa is an invention by Europeans, therefore, African studies is an invention based on continental geographical spaces. Similarly, continental studies are 114 Return and Revitalisation of the Archive not always interlinked by musical or cultural understandings uni-directionally, such as African music has been identified by many Western scholars as generally collective or participative. Such generalisations enhance the notion of generalising about the idea of African music, because during the colonial times when the sound archive was created, Africa was an invented area of study in which “African music” was referred to as indigenous music. In contrast, the postcolonial period attempts to dignify the representation of music in the African continent made by Africans. As Cabral noted forty-four years ago, “the peoples’ struggle for national liberation and independence from imperialist rule has become a driving force of progress for humanity” (1972: 39). One main characteristic that all the African nations have in common is that they have undergone processes of decolonisation and, to a certain extent, they are still experiencing processes of decolonisation in postcolonial times due to not being able to nationalise their resources. As previously mentioned, ILAM was supported by Anglo-American or copper mining industries, among other colonial institutions (H. Tracey, Vol. 1, 1973: 7). At present, the silence of historical memory, or rather Africans’ “short memory of hate” (Mazrui, 2004: 53), has led to new forms of neo- colonialism by multinationals retaining the African goods, such as Lonmin’s economic enrichment in the platinum mines of Marikana in post-apartheid South Africa. The continuation of the tribal partition of southern Africa has also per- petuated the colonial territorialisation of Africans in rural areas. As a case in point, within Marikana, an isiXhosa miner from the Eastern Cape cannot buy land in Phokeng because that land is still ruled through customary law and tribalised by chiefs, which results in the continuation of the indirect rule which territorialises people and does not support the notion of equal citizenship circulating throughout the country. Furthermore, one of the most evident failures of post-apartheid South Africa has been the continuation of legitimating territorialised areas that provoked racist attacks and has led to the biggest number of evictions and xenophobia crises against “non-South African” Africans in South Africa. The post-Marikana period in South Africa has also been contested by students from South African universities demanding equality and black participation in a country where still less than 15% of professors are black. In such an effervescent moment of social agitation demanded by miners, students, lecturers, landless movements and a great flux of migration, the sound archive becomes a contested institution in South African society. In order to analyse the possible Africanisation of ILAM, I will examine three main branches of Africanising the colonial sound archives in the continent suggested by Zegeye and Vambe (2011: 125): “conservatism, afrikology, Transformation in the African Academy 115 and neoliberal branches”. By examining the different ways of Africanising the sound archive, this chapter serves to reconsider future archival research at ILAM by national, African, and international scholars. In relation to the racialised conservatism of African knowledge by ethnicised majorities in postcolonial states (Shona in Zimbabwe or IsiXhosa and Zulu in South Africa), the contested European models of education empower enlightened Western knowledge over African scholars. For instance, it is not always common to read Biko, Fanon, Mbembe, Mamdani, Cabral, or Nyerere in relation to the understanding of postcolonial musical culture in South African universities. Furthermore, in ethnomusicology programs in the West, it is common that scholars read about Zimbabwean music through American scholars such as Berliner or Turino, but do not always read Chikowero, Vambe, or Matiure. The demand of promoting African scholars in academia emerges as a legitimate need in African academia. On the other hand, there are contradictory statements within the racialised conservatism in South Africa given that, as Zegeye and Vambe (2011: 127) note, “Afri- can elites (both black and white) send their children to schools that impart European forms of education considered international, cosmopolitan and ultimately guaranteeing a competitive future” in a Westernised world. From such a liberal perspective, mediated by racial conservatism, I observe that the opportunity of combining African and Western knowledge would lead to enriching African academia neither through Western or Afrocentric systems. The positive side of Afrocentrism lies in the re-examination and re-appropriation of “indigenous knowledge” as human and not as native (Kunnie, 2000: 167). Within the notion of Afrocentrism, I have enormous respect for the idea of recuperating the lost spirituality that was destroyed by colonialism. With regards to mbira music, I came to the realisation that many Zimbabweans are not interested in the precolonial aspects of mbira music and its contextualisation in a wider framework in southern Africa. Perhaps the notion of Afrocentrism would help to regain interest in the study of music and precolonial memory. On the other hand, the reconsideration of the sound archive through Afro- centrism perhaps crystallises music as static and does not always address the diversity and circulation of knowledge in African music beyond postcolonial borders. Therefore, the Afrocentric danger is based on the possibility of “tradition as the fundamental pillar” for the study of African knowledge (Nadubere, 2006: 7). From such an Afrocentric view, tradition lies on the territorialisation of knowledge as unidirectional in Africa. Zegeye and Vambe (2011: 129) note that if the Africanisation of the African academia lies in the crystallisation of past African experiences to inform the present and future of the continent, then it does not address emerging cultural realities in the continent and Afrocentrism would rely on similar colonial ideas of romanticism, 116 Return and Revitalisation of the Archive promoting the notion of “native”. Afrocentrism refuses changes or possible encounters with people from outside the continent which determined the ongoing process of living, circulating, learning, and humanising in Africa. In contrast, I propose certain forms of transforming the curricula in the African academia through the sound archive.

Ideas for Transforming the Curriculum in the Sound Archive In previous chapters, I have analysed the digital return of Zimbabwean recordings in Zimbabwe and the different outcomes from this interdisciplinary research in the sound archive. In this chapter, the question of changing the curricula involves the consideration of African scholars, the promotion of memory and knowledge of local musicians, and the accessibility of knowledge for Africans. a) African Scholars and African Knowledge The popularity of African scholars internationally is dependent not only on their publications or advocated work in their continent, but on if and how they became popular in the “Euro American” academia. For instance, with respect to African scholars who become popularised in the West, Mamdani and Mbembe became popular worldwide by visiting and promoting their work in the West and because the West provides those opportunities for their popularisation through Western journals and publishers. The Western wide- network offers a neo-liberal encounter with African knowledge through peer- reviewed publications and by bringing those popular African scholars to the West, attracted by economic benefits and the possibility of interacting with Western scholars who share similar interests. However, the popularity of African knowledge is narrowed down by the possibility of being introduced in the broad Western network; therefore, there are African scholars with relevant knowledge who need to be promoted not only by Western institutions but also by African institutions. With respect to Western institutions studying African music, I also witnessed the imposition of Western scholars over Africans for the study of African music. For instance, at the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS), I studied African music from different areas through: Charry, Duran, or Eyre on Malian music; Blacking or Erlmann on South African music; and Turino and Berliner on Zimbabwean music. During the beginning of the 2000 era, one of the few African scholars mentioned at SOAS was Nketia and later Agawu or Meki Nzewi (through Agawu, 2008). These scholars have been popularised by wide generalisations on the possible study of African music; it Transformation in the African Academy 117 is obvious that they thought of a non-African audience for their publications. Agawu’s Representing African Music: Postcolonial Notes, Queries, Positions has become an important contribution to the study of African music because he has the urge to address many issues on African music literature by Western scholars, such as the invention of tradition, the generalisations of African music found at the New Grove dictionary, or the problems of universalised discourses on African music. It seems like Agawu is asking for ways of dig- nifying African music “as a whole” to Euro-American scholars. However, as previously mentioned, in many African countries, the representation of musical cultures is not universalised but fragmented by the notion of nationalist history imposed by the construction of nationhood or territorialisation of music in the post-colony. Therefore, the authorised views on different forms of African music should not be imposed by the Western machinery of knowledge, but by being able to contrast the literature on African music produced from the West and with the living experience of scholars sustaining African academia. Otherwise, African knowledge will continue validating itself only through Western ideals of Africa (Zegeye and Vambe, 2011: 84). In relation to the use and study of the sound archive in the African academia, far from universalising the study of African music through ILAM, I consider that the awareness of African nationhoods and the continuum of tribalisation conditions the different views on the study of music in the continent. Secondly, the digital return of the sound archive should consider local scholars and musicians to reconsider the colonial sound archive such as the initiative in the forthcoming publication of the book Performing Zimbabwe: A Transdisciplinary Study (forthcoming publication) in which there are local scholars examining different aspects of musical styles ranging across genres such as dancehall, jazz, or mbira. The book includes a consideration of historical periods such as colonialism, postcolonialism, nationhood, or land reform in Zimbabwe. In addition to this, through the Unit of Zimbabwean Studies, I have tried to promote music from Zimbabwe that has not been popularised by the postcolonial government through the forthcoming book Ndebele Music in Zimbabwe. Therefore, in African academia, the scholar aims to be concerned with broadening the study of music in the postcolony in order to bring awareness of actual musical cultures rather than building imaginary African cultures in the West. In order to find literature on certain forms of African music by African scholars, one of the solutions is to promote African music journals, African history, or African sound archives. The importance of Africanising academia in Africa firstly depends on African institutions. With regard to the advent of African publishers promoting African knowledge, Zegeye and Vambe (2011: 81) note that the production depends on the national policy of promoting local knowledge. 118 Return and Revitalisation of the Archive In relation to the sound archive and interlinked history between colonial and postcolonial period, African knowledge is contained within songs, oral history, or written documents by colonists, among other relevant sources; therefore, the sound archive occupies an important space for African academia. The knowledge contained in the music from the sound archive is disseminated through recordings and provides a new format of finding knowledge; as a result, knowledge becomes an institutionalised commodity to be reconsidered. b) Local Musicians, Knowledge and Memory In order to decode the dissemination and commodification of the sound archive in Africa, I propose to address the musicians as the source of knowledge found in ILAM’s recordings. This shift reclaims the musician as the keeper of the knowledge recorded by colonial institutions and, for this reason, this book acknowledges the names of the musicians and their songs. In order to address the musicians as the keepers of knowledge, I encountered that on the mbira recordings, Hugh Tracey did not address women but men. For instance, as it appears in the Sound of Africa Series, the song ‘Chaminuka Teera Wambe’ is played by Manyoni Wanyamande and his wife (1970: 390). The objectification of women is alarming in a postcolonial present. Fur- thermore, the high participation of women in Shona mbira music has been essential for its global popularisation in the World Music industry by Chi- weshe, Masike, or Chiwoniso. In Zimbabwe, there is a large number of mbira women dedicated to music such as Benita, Joyce, Masike, or Katomene. Another issue is the range of emerging forms of knowledge production which mbira musicians face before its dissemination of knowledge through record labels, Western institutions in Africa such as Alliance Francaise, World Music festivals promoting African artists or Westernised universities, or media disseminating knowledge. Far from demonising Western knowledge, I attempt to address how musicians’ knowledge is filtered by powerful institutions directed to Western forms of interaction with the nation and globally with the West. The musician as the keeper of knowledge faces major challenges of directing his/her music to different audiences; therefore, Afri- can academia should analyse the multifaceted realities of artists as keepers of knowledge, musical innovation, and the continuum of culture. c) Accessibility of Knowledge for Africans In many places around the world, many musicians consider that the possibility of learning how to transcribe or reading Western musical notation will help them to play with different musicians. From different places where Transformation in the African Academy 119 I learnt or taught mbira, the songs are not notated with Western musical transcriptions but in tablatures, or orally and visually transmitted (Phol, 2007). The possibility of learning music does not fall in the capability of reading Western musical notation but in ways of people understanding the different forms of transmitting knowledge. Access to the sound archive provides an interdisciplinary method to learn instruments, rhythms, or lyrical content of interest. Further to this, the interdisciplinary accessibility to African musical knowledge for Africans should also be considered. The accessibility of the sound archive to Africans should be informed by the principles of democratic and social transformation in South Africa by offering students a sustainable way of providing knowledge to their society. A comprehensive way of applying such policy would be through facilitating career opportunities to students from different backgrounds and by promoting the importance of understanding the social plurality encountered on the African continent. In this regard, it encourages the lecturer to explore different forms of teaching according to the student’s needs, as well as accessibility to future career opportunities. In order to experience such continental plurality, the possibility of working with African stakeholders that share democratic principles will help to develop the interaction between student, lecturer, and society. As an example, principles of racial equality that provide opportunities for disadvan- taged national/African students coming from urban and rural areas. In order to implement this policy, African institutions and scholars should provide opportunities for African students to be involved in the sound repatriation of ILAM’s archive in different countries. To a certain extent, this coheres with the idea of cross-border education by providing accessibility to knowledge for nationals and African students through the sound archive. From such perspective on the circulation of knowledge and its accessibility in African institutions, the outcome of academic literature will contribute to the curriculum transformation in Africa not only by the participation of African scholars but by reconsidering the colonial archive in Africa. The reconsideration of the sound archive and its accessibility to Africans also calls for describing and examining present forces such as globalisa- tion in the southern hemisphere. It is crucial to find ways of understanding the impact of the economic and social order and how it affects the life of people in this continent by addressing it through curriculum transformation in the colonial sound archive in Africa. Accessibility also emphasises the importance of studying the interaction between music and its social context from a local, national, and continental view. In general, the transformative curriculum attempts to achieve the ideals of an “African university in the service of humanity”, where cultural borders continue crossing new and old mobility. 120 Return and Revitalisation of the Archive Finally, the accessibility of the sound archive by African and international musicians is essential for the reconsideration of the colonial sound archive. Thus, the use of samplers by DJs or the inspiration from recordings by musicians will be able to revitalise ILAM’s archive. Accessibility to the archive also implies the awareness of new musical realities to be included in the archive by scholars, musicians and students such as the advent of kwaito, hip-hop, dancehall, new jazz, or African reggae. Thus, the sound archive becomes an institutionalised vibrant space in which different agents provide and borrow information from the sound archive. As part of providing information for the archive, one has to emphasise Watkin’s interdisciplinary research with the language department at Rhodes University in which they conducted fieldwork with Rhodes students at Keiskama Hoek. The possibility of combining research between scholars and students also dynamises the sound archive as a constant storing place rather than only preserving the past. In the transformative curricula of colonial sound archives, we urge the need to include new recordings from community research, interdisciplinary events, national and international researchers. Therefore, the Africanisation of the sound archive should address emergent musical realities as not always linked to the past or the so-called musical traditions.

Conclusion The sound archive is analysed as an institutional agent that needs to be reconsidered in order to produce relevant knowledge in Africa and the musician as the keeper and creator of such knowledge. The possibility of considering the sound archive as being able to be Africanised should combine the observations of international, local, and national scholars towards the area of study such as this book has observed mbira studies from different perspectives (colonial and postcolonial). The possibility of providing accessibility to the sound archive to Africans will enrich the views on the knowledge contained in the recordings from ILAM. ReferencesReferencesReferences

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DiscographyRunning Head Left-hand: DiscographyRunning Head Right-hand: Discography

Chimbetu, S., & Dendera Music. 1997. “Simba nderere”. In Survival. Gramma records. George, S. 2004. The legendary George Sibanda. Sharp Wood Productions and ILAM SWP026. Mutukudzi, O. 2001. “Wasakara”. In Bvuma (Tolerance). Sheer sound. Sithole, J. 1995. “Sabhuku”. In Sabhuku. Zimbob label. Zimbabwe Frontline: Roots Rock Guitar Party (Vol. 3). 1999. “Ndivumbamireiwo” by Four brothers and Benyumundiro by Dopiro band. (Various Artists). Earthworks label. FilmographyRunning Head Left-hand: FilmographyRunning Head Right-hand: Filmography

Tracey, A. 2000. African Marimbas: A resource for teachers. Grahamstown: Interna- tional Library of African Music. Tracey, A., & Zantzinger, G. 1999a. Mbira: The technique of the mbira dza vadzimu. Philadelphia: Constant Spring Productions, University of Pennsylvania Museum. Tracey, A., & Zantzinger, G. 1999b. Mbira dza vadzimu: Religion at a family level with Gwanzura Gwenzi. Philadelphia: Constant Spring Productions, University of Pennsylvania Museum. Tracey, A., & Zantzinger, G. 1999c. Mbira dza vadzimu: Urban and rural ceremonies with Hakurotwi Mudhe. Philadelphia: Constant Spring Productions, University of Pennsylvania Museum. InterviewsRunning Head Left-hand: InterviewsRunning Head Right-hand: Interviews

Alexio Kawara, 6 February 2016 Almon Moyo, 13 February 2016 Ammara Brown, 12 February 2016 Barnabas Nagalande, 3 February 2016 Benita Tarupiwa, 5 February 2016 Chaka Chawasarira, 29 January 2016 and 2 February 2016 Dando Solomon Madinga, 29 February 2016 David Gweshe, 30 January and 1 February–5 February 2016 Edgar Bera, 9 February 2016 Fungisai Zvakavapano, 11 February 2016 George, 3 February 2016 Hector Mungani, 6 February 2016 Hope Masike, 21 February 2016 Joyce, 13 February 2016 Moses Masasi, 29 January 2016 Perminus Matiure, 13 February 2016 Prudence Katomene-Mbofana, 2 February 2016 Theresa Muteta, 12 February 2016 Victor Kunonga, 7 February 2016 Zensuasolo, 13 February 2016 Zimba Shangwe, 28 February 2016 Index

Agawu, K. 6, 92, 116, 117 Green, A. 48, 49, 52 Allen, L. 7, 107, 111 Gumboreshumba, L. 16, 24 Gwenzi, G. 28, 29, 40, 81, 110 Beach, D. 60 Bera, E. 9, 23, 25, 26, 30, 4, 44, 65, 82, Hilder, T. 96, 97 85, 92, 95, 98 – 100, 102 Berliner, P. 7, 19, 74, 115, 116 Jabbour, A. 7 Bernard, P. 45 Bouchenaki, M. 88, 89 Kirshenblatt-Gimblett, B. 89 Brutt-Griffler, J. 16 Kubik, G. 19, 27, 28 Burke, E. 68 Kunnie, J. 115

Cabral, A. 114, 115 Lambrechts, L. 6 Carver, M. 8 Lamen, D. 33 Chaminuka 10, 35, 40, 41, 57, 59, 60, Landau, P. 1, 9, 17, 42, 43, 72 62 – 68, 70, 74, 118 Lenzerini, F. 89 Charry, E. 32, 116 Lucia, C. 6 Chawasarira, C. 27, 39 – 41, 62, 63, 85, 95, 98, 101, 102 Machin-Autenrieth, M. 34 Chikowero, M. 6, 47, 80, 81, 115 Madera, S. 49, 50, 64, 65, 98, 110 Chimbetu, S. 75 Madinga, S. 37, 38, 51, 78, 85, 100 Coetzee, P. 7 Mafuleni, J. 85, 95, 98, 99, 100, 102 digital return 1, 3, 6 – 11, 62, 82, 85 – 88, Makina, B. 20 90, 92, 95 – 97, 101, 103 – 109 Makoni, S. 16, 69 Dutiro, C. 29 Malawi 2, 7, 22, 24, 28, 33, 34, 36, 39, 45, 79, 103 Eyre, B. 75, 116 Mamdani, M. 9, 17, 18, 20, 115, 116 Manyawu, A. 20 Fanon, F. 78, 113, 115 Maphumo, T. 58, 72, 733 Fargion, J. 7, 106, 107, 111 Mashiri, P. 16 Fontein, J. 61, 78 Mashoko, S. 36, 41, 65, 110 Mashonaland 9, 15, 16, 19, 20, 24, 27, Great Zimbabwe 43, 57, 59, 60, 61, 62, 29, 30, 32, 34, 37 – 39, 43, 43, 60, 64, 67, 68, 70; University 85, 109 65, 66, 97 130 Index Masike, H. 9, 81, 85, 95, 97, 100, Raftopoulos, B. 59 101, 118 Ranger, T. 18, 19, 61 – 63, 68 Matiure, P. 41, 42, 85, 88, 90 – 92, 94, Rasmussen, S. 47 – 49 95, 102, 110, 115 revitalisation 3, 4, 7 – 10, 82, 85 – 87, Mazarire, G. 16, 17, 68, 69, 95 – 111, 113 Mazrui, A. 114 Rhodes University 5, 87, 101, 110, 120; Mbembe, A. 113, 115, 116 Cecil John Rhodes 15, 21 mbira matepe 7, 23, 26, 27, 35, 37, 39, Rhodesia 3 – 5, 15 – 18, 22, 24, 28, 46, 41, 49, 50, 64, 65, 79, 98, 99, 104, 110 49, 52, 57, 80 mbira Ndau 22, 23, 33, 37, 38, 40 – 43, Rutsate, J. 20 45, 50, 51, 58, 65, 66, 76 – 78, 82, 99, 100, 102, 104, 110 Samson, J. 34 mbira nhare 5, 10, 23, 25, 26, 29, 30, Schauert, P. 71 35, 37, 41, 58, 59, 62, 76, 79, 82, 98, Schuyler, P. 32 99, 104 Seeger, A. 6, 112 Mhlanga, B. 58, 67, 71 Shawa, S. 36, 65, 110 Moyo: Almon 41, 85, 95, 98, 99, 100; Shimoni, B. 30 Mukomondera Moyo 110, Muzimu Shona chord cadence 9, 27, 28, 30, 32, Wandiyanda Moyo 36, Sam Moyo 59 37, 39 – 41, 43, 45, 72, 73, 76, 80, Mozambique 2, 3, 5, 15, 22, 23, 24, 28, 97, 98 33, 34, 36 – 39, 45, 79 “Shona chord finder” 32, 33, 35, 38 Mudenge, S. 50, 60, 81 Sibanda; George 2; Tawagaza Sibanda Mudimbe, V. 113 36, 110; Ukama Sibanda 77 Mugabe 59, 61, 62, 67, 68, 75 Sithole, J. 73, 110 Muller, C. 2, 6, 34 Soko, G. 36, 110 Munyonga 44, 99, 100, 104 South Africa 1 – 9, 15, 16, 21, 23, 24, Murira, S 49, 50, 64, 65, 110 33, 34, 36 – 39, 42, 43, 45, 46, 50, 51, Muzondidya, J. 57 – 59 71, 76 – 79, 82, 88, 101, 103, 104, 113 – 116, 119 Nadubere, D. 115 Steingo, G. 33 Nannyonga-Tamusuza, S. 87, 88, 105 – 107, 111 Taylor, D. 96 Native Affairs Department Annual Tenaille, F. 72 (NADA) 16 – 18, 47 Thram, D. 7 – 9, 90, 91, 96, 103 – 105, Ndebele 3, 15, 18, 37, 52, 57, 58, 61, 108, 109 66, 68, 69, 70, 76, 85, 115 Tracey, A. 4, 8, 14; ILAM, 5; Ngara, R. 109 lamellophones 22, 24, 26, 27; Niles, D. 92, 93 practical aspect, 5, 6, 9, 10, 11; njari 22, 23, 25, 35 – 37, 41, 45, 51, 62, “Shona chord finder” 32; and 64, 79, 82, 85, 90, 98, 99, 100, 102, Zantzinger 28, 29, 30 33 104, 110 Tracey, H. 1; ILAM’s brief history 4 – 7, Nyawo, V. 20, 36 17, 18 mbira tunning systems 43, 45 nyonganyonga 23 – 110 Memory 46, 47, 49, 50, 51; study of nyunganyunga 10, 23, 24, 25, 37, 39, lamellophones, 22, 23 45, 62, 76, 79, 82, 98 – 101, 104 Turino, T. 7, 20, 72, 73, 96, 115, 116

Perman, T. 7, 38, 47 Vambe, M. 20, 63, 70, 75, 114, 115, 117 Phol, E. 119 Venda: 1, 3, 29, 36, 42, 45, 96 Index 131 Wanyamande, M. 36, 64, 96, 110, 118 Zambia 2, 3, 9, 10, 15, 22, 24, 28, 33, Weintraub, A. 87, 88, 105 – 107, 111 34, 36, 39, 77, 79, 86, 103, 108, 111 Wesseling, H. 15, 21 ZANU PF 10, 57 – 62, 67, 71 Williams, R. 89 Zegeye 75, 114, 115, 117