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Robert Mukondiwa
In a country that seems intent on not celebrating its heroes, there is a habit where the airwaves are saturated with music from the new crop and nobody seems to have time for the timeless classics, Kings and Queens of the various kingdoms that are music and arts.
Indeed there seems to be a weird and disturbing trend that many look at awesome heroes who have achieved and secretly hope that they fall, are shamed and never rise again. A national department of evil that is always on standby to smear geniuses and play undertaker to the lives and accomplishments of stars.
Contrast that with, say, the United Kingdom, where music from the Mommas and The Poppas, The Beatles and Elton John is still played on the radio, decades after it was released. In fact, go to many football stadia in England and you will hear The Monkees’ version of Daydream Believer playing despite it being released in 1968.
Even in Zimbabwe, football lovers will either sing along to or know, the Gerry and The Pacemakers hit and Liverpool anthem You’ll Never Walk Alone, all because the British still celebrate their stars long after they have stopped making hit songs.
Add to that the fact that the anthem is still well known despite Liverpool losing the faintest interest in winning premier league honours ever since 1989-90 for a staggering 30 years before reluctantly winning one only because God himself had intervened and sent a horrible plague on the land in the form of Covid-19.
They finally took it into their dust-laden empty trophy cabinet.
But their anthem was still sparkling as new and had not gone on a hiatus. That is because in other cultures — musicians, stars, geniuses, and their works, do not die.
In Zimbabwe, the phrase is “so and so apera/sephelile”, they are finished. Done. They no longer produce any fresh hits or albums so we will taunt and forget them.
Except, some kings of the game should not and cannot be forgotten. One of those is the strange brave vagabond from Mudzi who was unwanted. Mudzi, a place where angels can afford to go on holiday without leaving relief angels because, let’s face it, why would the Devil even want to visit that place and operate from there? It is too remote.
Yet it is here at Masarakufa School that Charles Charamba, an unassuming yet stubborn little lad, was thrown by the hand of fate as the land that he would inhabit.
Having begged to be part of the choir, he was denied because he was too slight and too young. Yet he kept persevering.
One hot day, that slight body gave way and he fainted only to be ferried to the shade. What ensued was the birth of a man that would always be denied at the first attempt.
Or the millionth. But would still stubbornly pursue the object of his own heart. What he wanted, Charles Charamba got.
Under the shade, the story goes, he was allowed into the choir which was singing nearby as he had failed to handle the stress of Physical Education class.
After that, he was rejected in his adult life for attestation into the army despite having passed because his years were slightly above the required age. He had been rejected again. He had begged but not gotten the object of his desire.
Then he went for music, his true love. He went in an attempt to record an album. He was turned down as his music was said to be unconventional. He was turned away what must be a record TEN times.
Ten times he had to be a beggar. Begging to be heard. But not all kings are born with royal blood. Charles Charamba proved a beggar could be king. Anointed as the smallest, like among the sons of Jesse, Charles Charamba has revolutionised gospel music as Zimbabwe knows it.
That up-tempo, near sungura madness touched by the angelic lyrics, signature voice, and unique tinges that accompany it are now a hallmark. And yet at one time, they were not conventional whatsoever.
Many looked at his first album Tinashe Akatendeka with his then humble and anxious-looking face emblazoned on the cover. Who the hell was this man and why did he think he could change the voice and sound of gospel music? But as with young Saul, it is the youngest, unassuming, beggar of the pack that is anointed with sweet-smelling Holy Oil and the throne is gone!
Armed with one of the biggest weapons he has ever landed, his beautiful, motherly, purposeful, and immensely musically gifted wife Olivia, the two rose from almost nothing to ascend to the throne of gospel music in Zimbabwe as perhaps lifetime monarchs.
Yet Zimbabwe pretends to not notice them. Or we do not celebrate them enough, if at all. Yet the truth is stubborn. In a country where pundits and media want to call someone a ‘star’ when they are either accused of horrendous deeds or when they die, perhaps it must become a culture again to, out of the blue, and with no hint of jealousy, celebrate arts and entertainment heroes just because they are talented and gifted and shine in their world.
Even after interpreting the Bible for believers, when he or his wife go on a musical hiatus, the slapstick joke is “they are not releasing something new because they have sung the entire Bible” and that draws laughter. But, for a gospel musician, is there anything wrong with singing the whole Bible?
Is that not, perhaps, the mark of excellence in the field of gospel music?
And yet, suppose that is true and they have finished the Bible and have nothing more to sing, given their genius and the fact that it is arguable that the Almighty God Himself has their music top of His playlist up in heaven, He would definitely be prepared to write a Third Testament or sequel Bible just so that the Charambas can find new material to sing about.
New music that ensures that He and His angels, in all his majesty, can listen to the blessed music that Charles and Olivia Charamba make.
Their time for roses is now!
Online Reporter