NEW BLOOD FOR OLD BOWS
A beloved instrument is enjoying a revival as it is rediscovered by a new generation, writes
There’s a resurrection under way in SA — a spiritual and political movement with deeply personal and social implications embodied by a handful of ancient, interrelated instruments: musical bows. Musical bows are found all over the world in myriad shapes and sizes. Most bear a basic resemblance to a hunting bow, comprised of a single strand of twine or wire tautly strung between two ends of a curved length of hardy wood. Some require an additional resonating chamber to be attached to the body of the instrument — like a calabash or a steel oil can — to carry their sound forward, and others are amplified by the mouth of the player.
But don’t be deceived by their modest construction: this is subtle and sophisticated sound technology, and it requires a sophisticated approach to listening.
To the untrained ear it may seem as though there are only a few notes being played in any one composition, but with a closer listen, and some guidance, you’ll come to appreciate the musical depths these instruments can offer: the notes you hear at the basest level of listening are really just the skeleton upon which a dynamic, vital body of melody and harmony is sculpted in what are known as overtones.
At once spooky and soothing, evocative and playful, the twang of the single-string gourd or mouth-bow is a potent sound that immediately captures the attention of its listeners. The best-known musical bow is the Brazilian berimbau, which has had the greatest exposure globally thanks to its association with the popular martial art capoeira. Of all the world regions where these captivating instruments are to be found, southern Africa boasts the highest frequency and greatest variety, with many different iterations found throughout Angola, Zimbabwe, Mozambique, Eswatini, Lesotho and SA. Indeed, the berimbau is itself thought to be a descendant of the Angolan mbulumbumba, brought to the Americas via the slave trade.
But, despite their near-omnipotence in this part of the world, they’ve remained rather obscure and, save for the odd heritage music festival, have received little attention.
If you’ve heard about the instrument in SA, it’s likely been in relation to the esteemed Madosini, the charismatic
“queen” of Xhosa bow music who headlined as the 2020 National Arts Festival’s Featured Artist. You may also have encountered news of the potent Mantombi Matotiyana, who two years ago, at the age of 86, released her haunting debut album, Songs of Greeting, Healing and Heritage.
It’s high time these mighty guardians of traditional music received the praise and recognition they deserve — as a whole new life for South African bow music itself takes off. In Cape Town and Gqeberha, in other major centres of the Eastern Cape and in KwaZulu-Natal, interest in traditional Xhosa and Zulu bow music is growing rapidly, and recent years have seen a considerable rise in the number of bow-centred music performances on television, offered at live gigs in urban spaces locally and abroad, and shared to streaming platforms.
After decades of neglect, musical bows are being taken on by Afropolitan youth attempting to reconnect to an historically undervalued dimension of their cultural identities.
When you think of the musical bow in SA, if you think of it at all, you might picture elderly folk in traditional garb, serenely basking in the rolling hills of Pondoland, under an endless sky.
This is an essential part of the cultural heritage and imagination of these instruments, not infrequently invoked in the lyrical content of contemporary South African bow musicians, but it would be a mistake to think of these instruments solely as relics frozen in time, staged for some kitschy-cringey “world music” album cover.
Today, you might well encounter the bows framed by the striking cyberpunk sensibilities of Thandeka Mfinyongo, the fabulous glam of Odwa Bongo, the sage stillness of Mntana.WeXhwele, or the Afrofuturistic mystique of Dumama + Kechou, framed by the walls of a chic art gallery, the soft light of an Afropolitan café, the ecstatic pulse of a festival stage, or the quiet intimacy of a small theatre.
Growing numbers of solo performances and collaborations with jazz and electronic musicians have inspired a traditional music revival that is long overdue. They are supported by dedicated live music venues like Cape Town’s Rootspring or Gqeberha’s Inverness on Tulla, online platforms like Herri and Ispili Network, grassroots educational initiatives like those of Qangi Qangi, and expanded African music programmes at South African universities. And they’re just getting started.
This is about more than just a music style. For many, it’s a path towards cultural liberation and healing in a country riddled with historical and contemporary traumas. Most of us will have at least some appreciation — if not a fullblown passion — for the medicinal, mobilising power of music: the cathartic ecstasy of a live concert or the nurturing quality of listening to your favourite artist during an emotional upheaval.
For those spearheading the bow music revival, there’s nothing more potent than these ancient instruments, resonant as they are with the soil that birthed their bodies, and alive with the wisdom of their forebears.