By Gabriel Manyati
Zimbabweans have a curious habit. We demand that our legends remain permanently frozen in the politics of yesterday, even when old age comes knocking and the bills still need paying.
That is why businessman Wicknell Chivayo’s astonishing offer to Thomas “Mukanya” Mapfumo has triggered such heated debate. Chivayo says he is willing to pay the Chimurenga icon US$500 000 to perform at Jah Prayzah’s wedding and a jaw dropping US$1 million if he agrees to perform at his birthday celebration.
My answer to the inevitable controversy is simple.
Take the money, Mukanya.
Take every cent of it.
Before anyone reaches for their blood pressure tablets, let us deal with the politics first.
This is not the same as the controversial offer made years ago in which Mapfumo was promised a house, a vehicle and cash by Chivayo on condition that he renounce some of his long-held political positions. That was different because it apparently required him to change who he was in exchange for financial reward. It was political bargaining dressed up as generosity.
As you probably remember, in early 2024, Chivayo offered the exiled Chimurenga music legend a package reportedly worth US$500 000-$700 000. This included a luxury car valued at around US$200 000 (of Mapfumo’s choice), a US$300 000 house (often described as furnished), and additional cash or support.
The offer was presented as a gesture of appreciation from a fan, with an apparent expectation that Mapfumo would publicly apologise for past political criticisms, reconcile, or return to Zimbabwe. Mapfumo firmly rejected it, describing the money as “dirty” and refusing to have his name associated with it.
This latest proposal is something else entirely.
Nobody is asking Thomas Mapfumo to retract his songs. Nobody is demanding that he suddenly become a cheerleader for the establishment. Nobody is requiring him to apologise for decades of criticism or to rewrite his political history.
The man is simply being asked to sing.
That is what musicians do.
Some Zimbabweans seem to think that once an artist becomes a symbol, he must live like a monk and reject every lucrative opportunity that comes his way. That is nonsense. We do not ask journalists to refuse salaries because they once criticised a politician. We do not ask lawyers to stop representing clients because they disagree with them politically.
Why, then, do we expect musicians to live under different rules?
The late Oliver Mtukudzi showed us that there is another way. Tuku performed at government functions and ZANU PF events without losing his independence or becoming politically captive. He understood something that many Zimbabweans still struggle to grasp.
An artist can perform without surrendering his soul. He can sing at your event, collect his fee and still disagree with your politics.
The Jah Prayzah angle makes this story even more compelling.
Whatever one thinks of Jah Prayzah, there is no denying that he is one of the biggest Zimbabwean musicians of his generation. He is a stadium-filling star and one of the few local artists who still commands genuine national attention.
Imagine the symbolism of Thomas Mapfumo performing at Jah Prayzah’s wedding.
It would be more than entertainment.
It would be one era embracing another. It would be the father of modern Zimbabwean popular music blessing one of his most successful musical descendants. In a country that spends so much time fighting over politics, it would be a rare moment of cultural unity.
More importantly, it would be a reminder that Zimbabwean music did not begin with Jah Prayzah and certainly did not end with Thomas Mapfumo. The torch is always being passed.
Then there is the issue that many people are uncomfortable discussing.
Money.
Thomas Mapfumo is in his eighties. He has spent more than half a century entertaining Zimbabweans, provoking debate and producing some of the most influential songs in our history. Generations have danced to his music. Politicians have feared his lyrics. Academics have written books about his work.
The man has earned the right to enjoy his old age in comfort.
Far too many African legends die with applause but without money. They are celebrated with glowing tributes only after they are gone. They spend their final years battling financial difficulties while the societies they enriched move on.
There is something deeply hypocritical about people who have made fortunes in business, politics or the professions suddenly becoming guardians of revolutionary purity when an elderly musician is offered a million dollars.
If someone offered you a million United States dollars tomorrow, would you refuse it on ideological grounds?
Most people would not even allow the cheque to touch the table. They would grab it with both hands.
So why should Thomas Mapfumo be denied the same opportunity?
A million dollars could secure his retirement. It could support his family for years. It could preserve his archives, fund projects dedicated to his music and ensure that one of Zimbabwe’s greatest cultural treasures is properly documented.
In truth, this may well be the biggest retirement package ever offered to a Zimbabwean musician.
And who deserves it more than Mukanya?
The idea that he should reject it to preserve some mythical revolutionary purity is romantic but absurd. Thomas Mapfumo’s place in Zimbabwean history was secured decades ago. No birthday performance and no wedding appearance can change that.
After the music stops, he will still be Mukanya.
After the money is banked, he will still be the man who sang Corruption and Mamvemve. He will still be the giant whose music became the soundtrack to Zimbabwe’s hopes, disappointments and struggles.
The difference is that he will be enjoying his twilight years with considerably more financial security.
Frankly, there are worse endings to a legendary career.
So if Wicknell Chivayo’s offer is genuine, I hope Thomas Mapfumo accepts it with a smile, boards the plane, picks up the microphone and gives Zimbabwe one more unforgettable performance.
Then he should collect the cheque and enjoy every last dollar of it.
