Sekuru Chigamba’s stories outline several new directions for mbira scholarship. Among them, his account of the instrument’s origins suggests that the mbira’s emergence is closely tied to the emergence of spirit mediumship. At the same time, his depiction of mbira musicians as marombe, or destitute vagabonds, suggests that the instrument’s performers have historically occupied a deeply ambivalent social position. The contested nature of names, the diversity of indigenous musical terminology, and the standardization of the mbira and its repertory constitute other recurring themes.
Each of these subjects offers fertile ground for ethnomusicological analysis, and each could easily constitute the subject of an essay all its own. Indeed, Sekuru Chigamba’s stories offer a powerful reminder that while the mbira dzavadzimu is one of Africa’s most iconic musical traditions, our understanding of mbira music is still decidedly partial and incomplete.
In this essay, I analysis how Sekuru Chigamba understands the mbira dzavadzimu in relation to the many other members of the large family of mbira instruments. As I illustrate, Sekuru Chigamba’s stories point toward what ethnomusicologist Paul Berliner has described as “crossfertilization” between different types of mbira. Indeed, crossfertilization constitutes a recurring theme across many of Sekuru Chigamba’s narratives, from his account of the emergence of new tunings such as mavembe to his explanations of the meanings of songs such as “Marenje” and “Nyatwa.”
Mbira origins
In this section, Sekuru Chigamba offers one of the rare published accounts of the mbira’s origins. The most prominent account is that of Muchatera Mujuru, as recounted by ethnomusicologist Paul Berliner. As Berliner writes:
According to Mujuru, the mbira came from a place white men have never seen, called “Zimba Risina Musuwo” (“Houses Without Doors”), located north of Rusape in the direction of Mt. Darwin. At first the mbira sounded mysteriously from inside a large rock near a circular stone house with no door. People gathered whenever they heard the mbira’s music emanating from the rock. A disembodied voice told the people the name of each song as it was played. The people believed that the voice was that of Chaminuka, the principal Shona spirit and great rainmaker. Later, Chaminuka took possession of a man named Nyadate, through whom he told the people to make mbira. Nyadate showed the people how to make mbira, which they learned to play by listening at the rock. Nyadate informed the people that mbira music was the favorite music of the spirits. He later disappeared into the sea, never to be seen again. (1993: 45)
While Sekuru Chigamba’s account differs from Mujuru’s, the two share important similarities. Foremost among them, both narratives suggest that the mbira’s sound was first heard emanating from a rock. Despite Zimbabwe’s landlocked status, both accounts also notably invoke the ocean. Finally, although Sekuru Chigamba’s account does not directly refer to Chaminuka, his story of the mbira’s origins is closely related to his account linking Chaminuka to the origins of spirit mediumship.
Karimba – the originary mbira?
In 1970, ethnomusicologist Andrew Tracey speculated that many varieties of mbira “are closely related structurally and historically, and I think that all are originally descended from one instrument, the karimba” (38). According to Tracey, the mbira likely originated in the Zambezi river valley, taking the initial form of an eight-key kalimba.
Certain details of Sekuru Chigamba’s account do not coincide with Tracey’s hypothesis. Among them, Sekuru Chigamba places the mbira’s origins on the coast, rather than in the Zambezi Valley. He also suggests that the first mbira had only six keys, rather than eight.
At the same time, Sekuru Chigamba’s oral history offers strong support for Tracey’s basic hypothesis by tracing the many members of the large family of mbira instruments back to a single initial predecessor in the form of the karimba.
Constant evolution
Sekuru Chigamba lists the the njari, matepe, munyonga, mbira dzavadzimu, and karimba kakuru, or large karimba as among the many types of mbira that evolved from the karimba. Far from maintaining a single, stable form, however, he suggests that these instruments have undergone a process of constant musical evolution. According to his account, early karimba players began adding keys to their instruments in order to support their singing. Over time, these additions gradually led to the emergence of distinct varieties of mbira.
Even in relation to a single type of mbira, however, Sekuru Chigamba suggests that the number of keys on a given instrument may vary widely. Discussing the mbira dzavadzimu, for example, he specifies a range of 22 to 28 keys. Likewise, he states that the munyonga may have “up to fifty keys.” Stemming from these constant innovations, additions, and evolutions, Sekuru Chigamba’s oral narratives describe mbira practice as marked by creativity, experimentation, and innovation.
Mbira scholars have become increasingly engaged with innovation in multiple areas of mbira practice, such as instrument making, tuning systems, and repertory. Ethnomusicologist Andrew Tracey, for example, describes “a spate of inventive mbira designs” encompassing both contemporary and revivialist “innovations, re-inventions, and re-tunings” (2015: 132). Scholars have also shown increasing interest in the growing popularity of the “mbira orchestra,” which ethnomusicologist Claire Jones identifies as a “distinctly modal system” in which a number of differently tuned mbira are played together (2019: 209).
Even as this scholarship acknowledges the mbira’s potential to foster creativity, it remains marked by a desire to separate long-standing practices from recent innovations. As Claire Jones began investigating the emergence of the tuning known as mavembe or magandanga, for example, she describes herself as initially “curious about this seemingly modal tuning that had not been mentioned in the literature thus far. Was it a recent innovation or a long standing practice within the mbira tradition?” (2019: 210). Andrew Tracey additionally locates most mbira innovation within “recent decades,” and ties their emergence specifically to the mbira dzavadzimu’s widespread success (2015: 132).
Sekuru Chigamba’s oral history counters this prevailing narrative by suggesting that mbira players have creatively modified their instruments for as long as the mbira has existed. Thus, innovation itself must be considered a long-standing practice within the mbira tradition. As we shall see, these innovations range from straightforward modifications, such as the addition of a single key to the mbira’s soundboard, to more complex creative practices, such as the various types of orchestra tunings currently in existence.
Revisiting the mavembe
Sekuru Chigamba depicts the mavembe tuning, which Andrew Tracey considers one of the most significant recent innovations in mbira practice, as one among many developments in the mbira’s long history of innovation and experimentation. Indeed, Sekuru Chigamba posits that two other types of mbira, known as matepe and njari, share a relationship similar to that between the mavembe and “straight” tunings found on the mbira dzavadzimu.
Just as the mavembe tuning developed from the mbira dzavadzimu, Sekuru Chigamba suggests that the matepe mbira emerged as mbira players gradually added extra keys to the njari, modifying the instrument’s tuning in the process. As he told me:
Things keep developing and growing. That is how these mbira came about. Because on the njari, there is a vembe tuning. And here, we also have a vembe tuning – that vembe tuning, we call it magandanga. On the njari, the vembe tuning is matepe – that is its vembe. It has 28 keys, and it is the mavembe of the njari.
Here, it is worth recalling that the word “mavembe” refers to a discordant way of singing. From Sekuru Chigamba’s perspective, the matepe mbira is thus essentially an expansion and retuning of the njari mbira, just as the mavembe tuning is an expansion and modification of the mbira dzavadzimu. As he told me in another conversation, “The nyonga-nyonga (matepe) has the same discordant sound (uvembe) that the gandanga has. So it is also discordant.”
Based on the position of certain keys, Andrew Tracey has speculated that the matepe is likely to be a descendant of the mbira dzavadzimu, rather than the njari. At the same time, Sekuru Chigamba’s account is notable in the way it describes the many types of Zimbabwean mbira as related members of a single, extended family of instruments. Indeed, the view of a “mbira system” is one that both Hugh and Andrew Tracey have consistently elaborated over the course of their work.
Repertory crossing over
In the final section of this essay, I turn to one of Sekuru Chigamba’s mbira compositions, which he calls “Nyatwa,” in order to illustrate how mbira songs move back and forth between different tunings, and even different types of mbira.
The adaptation of songs from other instruments and genres is well-recognized in the literature. As John Kaemmer has observed:
Creativity is also allowed and encouraged within the framework of fixed songs by transferring songs from vocal to instrumental, or from one instrument to another… Mbira players commonly adapt songs from other genres to play on their instruments. This is done for entertainment, and these songs are not, at least at first, considered as ritual songs. (1975: 126).
Yet Kaemmer’s treatment of this type of “cross-fertilization” continues to maintain a division between the performance of these songs on the mbira dzavadzimu, which are treated as separate from their performance on other instruments.
Sekuru Chigamba, on the other hand, describes how songs move between different types of mbira during encounters between musicians from various regions, who play different instruments. This emerges with particular clarity in relation to one of his own songs, which he calls “Nyatwa.” While Sekuru Chigamba groups this song among his original compositions, he locates its origins in the matepe.
Sekuru Chigamba plays “Nyatwa” on the album Yangu Ndega
There is the song “Nyatwa.” In Mozambique they call it “Pfumvu YaNyasa” – “The problem of the deer,” or any type of animal. The problem is when it is chased by hunting dogs. And when it is tired, the dogs are about to catch the animal. So they said, “Now it has a problem.” That’s “Nyatwa.” They say it the first song they teach people.
I got the song because there was an old man from Mozambique named Wilson. He came to Zimbabwe 1928, and he was playing matepe. The same type of matepe. He used to come to me and play matepe, and we were playing together. Then, that’s where I took the song, and put it as “Nyatwa.” That’s where I got this song, from matepe.
But that song, I composed the kushaura of the song. When they play, they play kutsinhira – they don’t play the lead there. So I composed the lead and put it together, and made one song. And it became a different song.
Elaborating on his relationship with Wilson, Sekuru Chigamba told me that the two played together for many years:
We played together from 1972 up to 2000. And then we moved from Highfield and came to settle here. And that was in 2001. That’s when I left him. He was very old, but he was still going on strong.
As Wilson played his matepe, Sekuru Chigamba would search for a complementary song on the mbira dzavadzimu. In this way, the two musicians succeeded in playing together despite the significant differences between their instruments, including physical construction, playing technique, and tuning:
When he came by with his mbira, I would hear which song he was playing and then jump in. Because most of the songs, there, are similar. Yes, they resemble each other. He was playing, right? I would try to find something, perhaps “Nhemamusasa.” If I played “Nhemamusasa,” they would fit together. They go together. So that’s why we say that what is different is the type of mbira. But the songs are more or less the same. You can play “Mahororo” on that, you can play “Bembero” on that, so they are just the same. The only thing that is different is the region we are from.
Through this type of creative practice, Sekuru Chigamba and Wilson were able to sustain their musical relationship for nearly thirty years. This remarkable relationship clearly illustrates the significance of cross-fertilization between different types of mbira. At the same time, it challenges us to see new directions in mbira music, such as the development of formalized “mbira orchestras,” as more than simply recent innovations. Rather, these phenomena may be contemporary manifestations of longstanding musical practices.