It feels strange writing this sentence, even stranger believing it. August came and took you after a short three-day stay in the hospital, leaving behind questions, shock and a silence that sent sadness across the country. You were found lying motionless in a hotel room, a scene that many could not help but compare to the haunting memory of Whitney Houston.
Would you believe that we only got to know of your relation to President Duma Boko through his speech at your memorial? You did not quite get a State funeral, but the Presidency was there throughout the bereavement. Batswana were there too, and indeed Lerala turned into a buzz of activity on the day we laid you to rest.
I still remember how you ‘quite’ looked in your casket, a memory that is sometimes hard to forget. December has always belonged to you. If there was one certainty about the festive season, it was that ATI would be booked, overbooked even.
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From village celebrations to the biggest stages, your name was never missed from line-ups. In fact, you would rather miss events than have events miss you. You brought more than music; you brought sweat, movement, colour and that unmistakable energy that made crowds feel alive.
This year, the stages are standing, the lights are on, but your spot remains painfully empty. Back home in Serowe, the pain has taken physical shape. Your father has started erecting a stage in your honour.
Serowe raised you, and it was only inevitable that one of the country’s biggest events, Born and Raised, staged in your home village, would set aside a full hour just for you. An entire hour, ATI, an hour to remember your music, your movement, your laughter, and the joy you gave so freely. It is both beautiful and heartbreaking that a tribute has replaced a performance.
Your producers have told us that you left lots of unreleased music. They are working with your family on how we will hear your voice once more. I wonder which song they will release first.
But for now, I will tell you that the biggest song of the festive season, almost next to your Mankalankaleng, is Ezra’s Merwalela. None of the more established artists has come close to touching its reach. Far down the line would probably be Han C, who teamed up with Wave Ryder for Chomi Yaaka, Amantle Brown joining forces with Spiza on Tafite, and Chef Gustos with Chomi Yame.
Those are the few that have managed to stand out, but Merwalela has taken the crown. I know you would appreciate that. You always had a soft spot for talent, not status.
You believed in the music first, the hunger, the effort. And because of that, I am happy to tell you that the future looks promising. We have Ey Breezy, Jakalase, Dada Kavino and Basho Vision they are young, fearless and gifted.
Most of your fans remember you most during times like these, ATI during the festive season, when people want to forget the year that was. They yearn for your creativity, for those energetic moves that felt almost athletic, for the way you commanded a stage without trying too hard. You made performance look effortless, even when it clearly was not.
Do you know it is only now, as videos resurface of your performances of Mankalankaleng, that we have noticed how you hardly performed it the same way twice? Sometimes you would just stand there, and your people would do the rest every time the banger dropped. The hook line “re tsamaela gone koo” has now become part of the Zebras’ AFCON campaign as they take on Africa’s giants on Sunday.
There is no doubt that many festivals will pay tribute to you. Your music will be queued between acts, and your name will be shouted into the night. It will never be the same, but it will be something, a collective refusal to let you disappear.
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