Prokid was SA’S first rap superstar
The untimely passing of rapper Prokid has left a gaping hole in the music industry. Agiza Hlongwane pays tribute to him
THE SECOND anniversary of Mandoza’s death is about seven weeks away. After the shock of waking up to the news of Prkid’s death, and having to attend a wedding afterwards, by late afternoon
I had to take my family to see my mother and wish her happy birthday.
On our way, I put a USB in the car stereo and selected the folder with Headz & Tales, Prokid’s debut album.
Beyond the alarming rate at which we’re losing our entertainers, it is cruelly poignant that it is now the young ones who are dying at a time when we’ve already discarded them as “hasbeens”.
“We”, of course, being this actually tiny local music industry and its many fickle followers, rather than supporters. We write off the self-same people who strive to use their art to entertain us and help us escape our crude reality for a moment. They squeeze everything out of themselves each time to give us the best of themselves, and maaaaaybe make a few cents from it for a while.
We are just like the greedy corporates that run this biz; we hate these guys. We even write off super-intelligent and hardworking wordsmiths like Prokid, while they’re dealing with their issues, though still being featured by other artists, all the while as we gyrate to, and sing the praises of, gqom.
In the car earlier that evening, with the voice of the man born Linda Mkhize booming out the speakers at a safe enough volume for the youngest member of our family, I found myself temporarily losing my composure when I least expected it.
At some point during the track Celebrate the Day, featuring Muggz, this big, “strong” man of the house writing this, was overcome by the moment and his eyes became watery.
My first real encounter with the Pro dates back to one memorable Saturday evening at the BAT Centre in 2005.
As the “brazo” with the Ford Laser, I had decided to treat these excitable teenage hip hop heads to their very first show: my brother, the twins from next door and my relative.
Billed to launch their albums there was Prokid, Mr Selwyn and Myman. There were topnotch performances from all the artists. Prokid shut the house down with Wozobona, the first single off Headz & Tales, peppered with tales of kasi bravado and punctuated with the sound of the exhaust pipe of an E30 Beemer 325i gusheshe. At a time when the eraser to the obituary of kwaito music, as we knew it, was wearing thin, Gallo Music had unleashed Prokid, who would go on to establish himself as arguably South Africa’s first rap superstar.
Bursting with energy and creativity, this new spokesperson for the joys and horrors of township life said things that really threatened to “shake you till you bubble up foam”.
He was clear. Distinct. Relatable. He spoke to you and me, when he alluded to having to wake up every morning and, first thing, have to look anxiously through the curtains to see if his car’s wheels were still there.
A raspy rhymester with a tight flow that employed clever wordplay and complex multisyllables, it was no surprise when he told me during an interview that he had grown up idolising Big L of Harlem, New York, and that his big dream was to one day stand in one corner and “rep my hood” before Nas does the same about his.
Prokid could be reflective and highly emotional. For every Keep Yo Head Up and Uzoyithola Kanjani Uhlel’ Ekhoneni, there’s Ungaphel’umoya Son and Pressa, Phusha, Phanda. Prokid had to holler “Woz’uzobabona” and kick down the dew and lay the foundation for a Sjava to one day be confident and inspired to come up with Voora and go on to win a BET Award.
Rappers today make millions and ascend the stage to accept awards but fail to do a simple thing, which is free of charge: acknowledge the contribution of the originators of this thing.
Pro could have easily made it very, very big had he “blown up for the money njenge-atm elok’shini” at a time like now, when SA hip hop artists can be commercially successful.
Headz & Tales was followed by DNA (2006), Dankie San (2007), Snakes & Ladders (2009) and Continua (2012). Despite what’s been said about this discography, especially the two projects after Headz & Tales, I love all of them. For various reasons. Not least the fact that in each and every one of them he referenced the Durban township known as “Laksi”, which is Lamontville, where he grew up “ngobhiya ne-loose”.
My soul is richer today because of Pro’s rhyme book. My soul is richer today because I listened to Pro and got to meet him during interviews many years ago.
My heart bleeds and I shed a tear because he was an fellow ‘81 baby. Only two months older than me and he leaves behind a threeyear-old daughter and millions of sad fans who really should have supported him.
As hard as it is, we have to let go and say goodbye.
Dankie San.
Hlongwane is a Sunday Magazine alumnus.