Online Reporter
Bruce Ndlovu, Sunday Life Reporter
WHEN Sandra Ndebele stepped into the political arena, she did not just take on a new role, she embraced a calling rooted in service, transformation and responsibility.
In December 2023, the celebrated performer, mother and wife added another title to her already decorated life — councillor for Ward 20 in Bulawayo.
It was a long-held dream come true, a dream to move from entertaining crowds to influencing policy, from commanding the stage to representing the people.
With that moment, Ndebele joined the ranks of Bulawayo’s City Fathers, the stewards of a city home to over 600 000 residents. A title steeped in both tradition and duty, it comes with more than ceremonial weight.
It means being the face of hope, the target of frustration, the bearer of accountability. If the refuse is not collected, if burst pipes go unfixed, if street lights flicker and die, residents do not call hotlines. They knock on the doors of those they elected. And now, Sandra is one of them. However, Sandra Ndebele is more than just a councillor, as prestigious as that title may be.
In the vibrant corridors of Bulawayo’s music scene, she holds another title, one equally revered but far more intimate. She is a big sister, the “first-born” of the city’s creative family. The one others turn to when the glare of the spotlight burns too bright or when the applause fades into silence. For many young artistes, Sandra has been more than an inspiration, she’s been a lifeline.
She has opened doors that once seemed sealed shut, offering opportunities, mentorship and in some cases, financial assistance. When the burdens of fame become too heavy a cross to carry, she has offered more than advice, as she has given time, presence and a shoulder to lean on.
While she is revered in the industry today, Ndebele was not always held in such high regard. Her rise to the top was anything but easy. Once upon a time, when she descended like a whirlwind on the local industry, gyrating her way to instant fame, she was the devil incarnate. A young Ndebele’s outfits were too revealing and her dance moves too lewd, her harshest critics opined.
“During my first years as a musician, I was the victim of a lot of stereotyping,” Ndebele said during the annual Media Indaba hosted by the Ministry of Information, Publicity and Broadcasting Services on the sidelines of the Zimbabwe International Trade Fair on Thursday.
“People looked down on female musicians, so there were a lot of things said. They didn’t like the way I dressed and people would say I’m half-naked. When I gyrated on stage, I would be subject to a lot of comments, with some people saying that what I was doing was wrong.”
Despite the snide comments that she had been subjected to over the years, Ndebele, a product of Inkululeko Yabatsha School of Arts (Iyasa), said she has no regrets about those early years, which saw some praise her as an entertainer while others denigrated her as someone who was cheapening Zimbabwe’s moral fabric.
“If you ask me today, I’ll still tell you the same thing that I told you back then. I felt that was my culture and I still maintain that it’s my culture. I’ll not shy away from something that I’ve always felt was right. I did it because I believed in it.
“I’m thankful for the Government because even when I was being attacked, I was protected, and that’s why 20 years later, I’m still singing, dancing and performing,” she said.
Ndebele said that while she has grown a thick skin over the years, she believes the harsh treatment she endured may have discouraged many aspiring female performers from ever stepping onto the stage.
“I know of younger people who are emerging from different places who are afraid. They are afraid to say ‘I want to dance like Sisi Sandra Ndebele danced’. They are afraid of being half-naked on stage. Yet our culture embraces that kind of dance and those kinds of outfits,” she said.
While female artistes from the United States and Europe are often celebrated for bold performances and daring outfits, Ndebele said she felt that, at home, there was far less tolerance for what many deemed as “raunchy” behaviour, especially when it came from one of their own.
“Imagine if Beyoncé came to Zimbabwe and filled up a stadium. No one would have a problem with her dance moves or outfits. But if Sandra does the very same thing, people call her all sorts of names.” This is a double standard she knows all too well, one she believes has silenced many talented young women before they even stepped on stage.
“Maybe if there were policies that truly protect female musicians, people would stop judging them based on how they dress or walk and start appreciating them for their talent alone,” said Ndebele.
She said despite what she felt was harsh criticism during the genesis of her career, she has grown to embrace the negative perspectives about her.
“I remember in 2003 when I launched my first album, Mama Mama. Back then, there weren’t many female musicians in the industry. It was, and still is, a male-dominated space. Our culture has a big influence on how your career unfolds.
“I was called names. I was judged harshly. In those early years, when the criticism poured in, I used to feel really bad. But with time, I came to understand something important no publicity is bad publicity. Every bit of attention, good or bad, plays a part in shaping who you become.”
While she might have persevered through the ups and downs, Ndebele said she felt that other female performers, who might not be as resilient as she was, could benefit from protection from policymakers.
“At times, the industry is not as friendly as some might think, especially for female musicians. That’s why I encourage the Government to implement some of the policies that it comes up with. If this is done, I think that our industry would be bigger and better, and we would see a lot of Sandra Ndebeles. Due to the lack of financial support, there are very few of us making it.
“I believe that I made it because I’m a very self-driven individual. I can do anything that I put my mind to. One person once told me that if my talent doesn’t reward me, my hard work will and I believe that my talent and hard work have paid me over the years. I’m a landlord today because of this industry. “So if I did it, there’s a young girl out there who can do it as well,” she said.
Bongani Ndlovu