Online Reporter
Silenkosi Moyo
IN 2023, I travelled to the United States under a professional exchange programme themed Art for Social Change, which explored how creativity can drive transformation. The tour took us through a range of cultural spaces, galleries and institutions across the country.
One of the most unforgettable stops was the Motown Museum, once the modest recording studio and family home of Berry Gordy, the visionary, who built one of the most successful black-owned music labels in history.
Today, the space honours musical legends such as Boyz II Men, Stevie Wonder and The Jackson Five, preserving the spirit of an era that shaped global sound. We were able to see the actual apartment where Berry Gordy lived with his family during the label’s earliest days, along with the original recording equipment and the legendary Studio A.
The tour was led by a knowledgeable guide, who shared fascinating anecdotes and captivating stories from the legendary Hitsville USA, and I even had the rare opportunity to see Michael Jackson’s iconic fedora.
The Motown Museum is more than a historical site; it is a living archive of legacy and storytelling that left me in awe. I found myself wondering: Was preserving these stories part of the plan when the music was made, or did someone decide to safeguard them only after Motown became legendary? The experience also raised deeper questions: Do we have similar spaces at home dedicated to our artistes? Where can one go to learn about George Sibanda or Ndux Malax? While the Joshua Nkomo National Museum comes close to the Motown concept, we still need spaces that celebrate and preserve the legacies of our musicians specifically.
Another highlight was The Book of HOV, a tribute exhibition at the Brooklyn Public Library celebrating Shawn “Jay Z” Carter’s journey from Brooklyn’s Marcy Projects to global icon. The exhibit featured thousands of archived items, original recording masters, unseen photographs, stage costumes, awards and personal artefacts chronicling his extraordinary career.
Returning home, I could not help but ask: Where are our artistes’ archives? Who is preserving their stories? And, most importantly, whose responsibility is it to ensure these legacies endure?
We are known as a people of oral storytelling traditions, and while memories of artistes are shared informally, they are rarely preserved in ways that make them accessible to future generations. Perhaps it is time to move beyond oral storytelling and create dedicated story-keeping spaces celebrating the legacies of our artists. Such spaces would allow us to tell our stories through our own worldview and cultural lens.
The crowds I saw at Motown and the Brooklyn exhibitions showed the public’s deep hunger for connection, history and identity. It made me wonder: In our local context, who would visit a George Sibanda museum? Would there be an entry fee? How would it sustain itself? Would it draw only musicians seeking inspiration, or also researchers, students and the wider public, eager to engage with our creative heritage?
Personally, I know I would be among the first visitors. Perhaps I’m biased, working in the arts, but I believe such spaces could deepen our understanding of Zimbabwean arts, culture and identity. They could become places to make memories with our children, strengthen cultural pride and showcase our stories authentically on international platforms.
Story-keeping centres could also boost local tourism, support Education 5.0 and promote social cohesion, but it begins with the artists themselves.
How many living artists are actively preserving their own stories? How many could fill a gallery or library with well-curated works that trace their journey? It is food for thought. If you have already started your own story-keeping, I would love to hear about it.
Silenkosi Moyo is the regional director of the National Gallery of Zimbabwe in Bulawayo.
derick.khumalo