Online Reporter
Bruce Ndlovu, Sunday Life Reporter
ONCE upon a time, one could not speak of Zimbabwe’s touring arts groups without mentioning Siyaya.
Alongside Amakhosi and Iyasa, Siyaya stood out as the pride of Bulawayo, a boundary-pushing ensemble that redefined what it meant to be an artiste in post-colonial Zimbabwe.
No longer were performers dismissed as vagabonds in leg rattles and loincloths.
Instead, they were respected cultural ambassadors, artistes earning a living by showcasing traditions that colonialism once tried to erase.
By the turn of the century, Siyaya’s members had become jet-setters, young creatives who practically lived out of suitcases, dashing from one airport to the next.
Founded in 1989 as Nasa (Nostalgic Actors & Singers Alliance), Siyaya became one of Zimbabwe’s most celebrated cultural exports, performing on world stages including the Aberdeen International Youth Festival (Scotland), Glastonbury Festival (England), Market Theatre Festival (South Africa) and Panafest in Ghana.
Their passport stamps told a story of excellence: England, Ireland, Wales, Germany, South Africa and beyond.
From the early 2000s to around 2014, Siyaya was the heartbeat of Bulawayo’s globetrotting arts scene.
To be a Siyaya member was a badge of honour. Then, almost without warning, it stopped.
The screaming headlines of international tours fell silent. Performances disappeared. Social media pages turned into ghost towns, only coming alive to announce the occasional bereavement.
The ensemble, once synonymous with momentum and innovation, had seemingly fallen into a coma.
Internal strife and the Mambazo dilemma
According to founder and artistic director Saimon Mambazo Phiri, the long silence has not been accidental.
Comparing his experience to that of the late Cont Mhlanga at Amakhosi, Mambazo said he began facing resistance from group members who no longer fully recognised his contribution, despite him being the architect of the ensemble’s success.
“We had problems. I feel like as a people, we are more comfortable when everyone is mired in poverty. The moment one of us rises, others start asking questions,” he said.
“Cont Mhlanga faced this too. When he started claiming ownership of what he built, people turned against him, saying, ‘It’s ours.’ I realised I was going through the same thing.”
According to Mambazo, cracks began to show when he decided to explore opportunities outside Siyaya after nearly two decades at the helm.
There was simply too much demand for one group and he saw an opportunity to grow others.
“I had tried this before with the Sabela Music project. There was so much work coming Siyaya’s way that we were turning gigs down. So, I thought, let me create another vehicle to uplift others. That is how legends like the Cool Crooners, Umdumo Wesizwe and even Black Umfolosi began performing in Europe again. Sabela was an agency and it was all me.”
As Mambazo increasingly shifted focus, he said tensions grew with veteran members who began treating the group like an exclusive “men’s club”— hostile to youth and new energy.
“They were toxic now. They wanted it to be a men’s club. It is not. They found this thing there, and they should benefit. That is how you grow the industry.
“So, when I started branching off, I started getting resistance, but I felt it was a nice thing to leave. When I started doing my own thing, I started working with the likes of Nkululeko Nkala, who had been part of Umdumo Wesizwe. Javas Sibanda was an administrator and I recruited him to focus on marketing.
“I was doing all these things that I felt were empowering other young guys outside the brand,” he said.
As Mambazo started to slowly detach himself from the group’s day-to-day life, he said he noticed that some of his innovations, such as the appointment of current Bulawayo Chiefs Football Club chief executive officer Javas Sibanda as the marketing guru, were not fully appreciated for what they brought to the ensemble.
“Javas would travel as part of the cast, but when we got paid, they would call a meeting and ask what exactly this guy ‘Javas’ does. They could not realise all he brought to the table.
“Their life was the stage. When we had no gigs and only had busking gigs (impromptu gigs), Javas would not get paid because, according to the artistes, he had no value.
“So, they would get paid without giving him anything and then, out of guilt, some of them would go behind the others’ backs and pay him from their share. In the end, he would end up with almost more money than everyone in the ensemble,” he recalled.
A brand losing its edge
Without its founder’s creative spark, Siyaya slowly began to lose its sheen with overseas audiences. The hunger, the drive and innovation of earlier years was now on the wane as the ensemble grew used to once unfamiliar stages overseas.
The irony started to kick in when agencies started to drop Siyaya.
“The group had started to become what I call airport puff. Everything was a little too familiar. This year and the next year, you would go to the airport and go overseas, but you have offered nothing new. It was puff. It did not have value anymore. You would wear your traditional gear, beat your drums and so on and it was a bit too familiar. I was not part of all that and the agencies could feel that Mambazo is no longer in this thing. I was trying to find new avenues for growth,” he said.
Despite years in limbo, Mambazo insisted that the Siyaya dream was still very much alive, with a new cast of performers perhaps needed to bring it back to life.
“If in two weeks I call a Siyaya tour, it can happen. The world of the arts would not care who would be on that stage because it is a brand. That is why I have kept it canned for a while, because once I find the right people, we can release it to the world again,” he said.
Bongani Ndlovu