Lesotho Musician Mahlanya on Old Stories and New Music
Mahlanya is a traditional Sesotho music paragon. He stands singular among the artists whose modern take on the storied genre has amassed a legion of adherents while inspiring vitriol from other sectors. He is state, church, preacher, and pulpit, spreading the gospel of famo — Lesotho’s accordion music — amidst the staggering volatility that has led to the deaths of hundreds over the years.
When comparatively analyzing the artist’s broad-ranging discography, one is struck silent and shocked by how much he’s mellowed over the years. His earlier work witnessed a militant Mahlanya still reeling from the death of Rantšo, the mentor who exposed a brooding student to not only the world of recording, but the codes that govern the music he holds dearly. A song like “Sesosa” from Labenya La Khaola ‘Mano Vol. II is about as heartfelt as one can get on the mic. His voice is on the verge of breaking as he bleeds lyrics that lament Rantšo’s untimely departure from Earth.
Born Lehlohonolo Maketsi in the district of Mafeteng, Mahlanya acquired his name from one of the many mountains surrounding the villages that Lesotho, his birth country, is known for.
“I was raised by different elders in the village Thabana-Morena, Malumeng Ha Moqanyane. I always loved music, and this endeared me to the likes of Rantšo, who showed me the path. I also herded cattle, which I love to this day, and would play board games like moraba-raba or the stick game known as ho kallana in my spare time. These also broadened my scope when I started making music,” he says.
History of famo music
Knowledge of famo’s past and the history of criminality in the former Transvaal region in South Africa is crucial to understanding how it later got associated with violence, and how it became muddled up in the zama zama ring that continues to negatively affect the livelihood of musicians and impact the environment. The Transvaal region encompassed modern-day Gauteng, North West, Limpopo and Mpumalanga pre-1994. “Zama” is an isiZulu word that translates to “to try,” and zama zama is the colloquial term that is used when referring to the illegal miners who’ve sprung up in the Gauteng province in the years following increased divestment of mining companies, which left many men without jobs. They are known to spend over six months underground digging for gold, and have in some instances been reported to be violent. The most recent reports coming out of South African media point to a joint military operation that managed to confiscate millions’ worth of equipment. The unanswered question: Who funds them? Who are they answerable to?
Much like jazz in America, famo is ragtime music that started in the seedy taverns where miners would de-stress after a week’s worth of slaving for the gold upon which the province of Gauteng was built from the 1920s onwards. These mines, which saw an influx of labor from disparate parts of southern Africa, meant that different nations found themselves sharing space. Clashes between ethnic groups like Basotho, AmaZulu, AmaXhosa, and others were not uncommon, so Basotho ganged up together to form MaRussia, a name acquired from their admiration of Russian conduct during the Second World War, to protect themselves.
While the initial intentions were good, the movement soon drew elements of criminality, not uncommon in a Gauteng province where the likes of Nongoloza’s Ninevites were terrorizing the Witwatersrand. MaRussia soon came to be known for its extortion, involvement in human trafficking, and robberies. The music, famo, wasn’t spared, since the musicians were themselves miners.
Yet, correlation does not necessarily lead to causation, which is the mistake that people make when bastardizing famo as a violent ring that protects murderers. Further to the point, the violence that tends to spill over into Lesotho has mostly been concentrated in the southern parts of the country, which then raises the question of why the northern districts have largely been spared from the onslaught.
Responding to why people think he and his Seakhi movement — which is one of famo’s many crews, where each one is distinguished by the type of blanket it wears — are partly to blame for the murders that have caused so much distrust among artists, Mahlanya says: “Seakhi is known for the Letlama blanket. People I know of, and those that I don’t know, follow our music. Some of them are linked to crime. The Seakhi name unfortunately becomes tainted due to their actions. I have never been involved in zama zama activities. I’m a musician, and I earn my livelihood from making music. People need to understand that we are not affiliated with such.”
A Class Act
Mahlanya’s unique usage of uncommon Sesotho idioms has endeared him to Basotho, while his melodic ear has resulted in a discography filled with memorable hits. “Nakeng tsa Poho'' is a rousing, pick-me-up music to prepare one for the ideological warfare that is life; “Se Lahlisang Tšepo'' is stubborn hope while caught in the throes of challenging situations; “Labenya'' is boastful, an open field for him to flex lyrical about his capabilities in song.
His approach is steeped in the praise songs of Basotho chiefs who fought unimaginable battles to fend off intrusive forces during the Difaqane wars of the 1800s. He is not singular in this, however. He is as much a student of both the language of Sesotho and the music of famo, as he is the leader of the new school, inspired by the classics, with a roll-call of legends ensuing with ease from his lips.
He lists among his inspirations the likes of Mocheso, Lekase, Matsie, Famole, Mantša, Tau ea Matšekha, and more. Each one of these artists have contributed their fair share to advancing the sound and lyrical approach of a genre whose new school boasts the likes of Mahlanya himself, Khopolo, Katiba, Thope tse Khang, Sepahaka, and others.
A New Lease On Life
Mahlanya has grown wiser with the changing years. With a new album and a refreshed outlook on life, he is able to measure how the feedback from his listeners has shaped the man he is becoming. “I arrived in music as a young man. The music I was making then resonated differently with different people,” he admits.
“Sesotho idioms tell us all the time that it’s not possible to judge one’s faults, or point out one’s missteps,” he continues. “There are people who approached me, whose feedback I appreciate. They said that the positive elements that led to them falling in love with famo were missing. Upon introspection, I decided to heed their words and follow their wishes.”
The new album is cohesive and hard-hitting. It follows a well-established streak of well-articulated, poetically-rich lyrics that burst at the seams with knowledge. “Ba Lla Tlala Maleng,” the lead track, addresses the grim conditions that have plagued Lesotho for years, and points out that a lack of strong, visionary leaders shall only lead the country further down a chaotic streak. “I was meditating on the state that Basotho find themselves in, whereby they find that crossing over into countries such as South Africa is the only way to escape stagnation and, ultimately, death from starvation,” he says.
“'Pharela’ speaks to how, as people, as men, there’s really no problem that can’t be solved through dialogue and mutual understanding, while ‘Seila-tsatsi’ speaks about a beautiful girl. In my case, it’s a song I’ve dedicated to my beautiful wife.”
“Seila-tsatsi'' calls to mind the legendary Mantsa’s song, “Airport”, which speaks about all the ways in which he wants to spoil his lover: “We’re going to the airport, we’re going to jump on a plane / hold on to me, don’t let go / we’ll fly from Lesotho to Johannesburg / and from there we’ll board another plane overseas to America.” The translations only take away from the depth of his expressions.
The two featured artists are: close associate and frequent collaborator, Letheba, who makes a scene-stealing appearance on “Lekope” and “Mabele;” and Lelanka, who is featured in “Puruma.” Mahlanya’s current direction might also lead to him collaborating with artists outside of famo. He is apparently in the studio cooking up astral works with Morena Leraba, another shining light in the Lesotho music scene. At this point, anything is possible, and there is no limit.