Ignatius Mabasa’s foreword to Mbira
Mberi, a new book by Hope Masike,
published by Tribe Hope Foundation, Harare, 2026
Reading Hope Masike’s new book, Mbira Mberi, brings
various enriching feelings. As someone who had the privilege of knowing and relating with
mbira luminaries such as Ephat Mujuru, Dumisani Maraire and Chiwoniso Maraire,
I am thrilled beyond words that Hope Masike has finally done what I long
challenged many of my artist friends to do: write your own stories!
Partly memoir, academic and mbira playing handbook… Mbira
Mberi is not merely an act of documentation, but an act of cultural
reclamation, an opportunity to reflect on the beauty of the mbira and to
articulate its meaning from within, as a cultural insider.
Over the years, I have consistently urged fellow
cultural practitioners and intellectuals—among them Cont Mhlanga, Chenjerai
Hove, and George Kahari to tell our own
stories. I have argued for a mode of writing that blends the personal and the
academic, not only as a contribution to our cultural heritage but also as a
necessary decolonising practice. In this regard, Masike’s work stands as both
response and example!
One of the strengths of Mbira Mberi lies in its
engagement with earlier scholarship, particularly that of Western
ethnomusicologists such as Hugh Tracey. While acknowledging the usefulness of
such work, Masike does not shy away from pointing out its limitations,
including its often patronising gaze. Her critique is both measured and
necessary, opening up space for more grounded, self-representational
scholarship.
Masike poignantly reflects on the irony that, in
writing about the mbira, she has often had to rely on the work of cultural
outsiders, largely because many of our own mbira masters have either felt
intimidated by writing or have not prioritised it. In doing so, she implicitly
challenges other living mbira artists to reject the lingering colonial
assertion, attributed to a former Native Commissioner, that “the native does
not write.” This book, therefore, is not only a narrative, it is a call to
action.
The text is both informative and accessible,
demystifying complex musical concepts while guiding the reader through the
journey of learning to play the mbira. Masike’s storytelling is marked by
wisdom and humour, and she generously offers practical insights for aspiring
players. Her advice that one should not be tempted by a cheap mbira, but rather
seek an instrument that “chooses you,” captures the deeply relational nature of
this musical tradition.
Importantly, the book balances historical and cultural
reflection with contemporary realities. Here is a book about Hope Masike’s life
in music with iconic photographs. Masike observes how mbira practice continues
to evolve, with modern players incorporating innovations such as instrument strands,
branded cases, and digital tuning applications. In doing so, she resists the
temptation to freeze the mbira in an imagined past, instead presenting it as a
living, adaptive tradition.
Her observation that more work needs to be done to
historicise the mbira outside colonial frameworks, is particularly compelling.
One cannot help but reflect that such efforts should have been undertaken as
national projects in the early years of Zimbabwe’s independence, when many
knowledge holders were still alive. That this work is being done now, decades
later, is both commendable and sobering. It speaks to the gaps in our cultural
institutions and the urgent need to invest in the documentation and celebration
of our own narratives.
While the book makes a significant contribution to scholarship
on music and band management, it also opens up important avenues for further
exploration. At times, one wishes Masike had allowed herself more space to
delve deeper into more issues, or to offer a fuller account of her own personal
journey. There is, perhaps, room in the future for a more expansive
biographical work that would further cement her place within Zimbabwe’s
cultural archive.
Nonetheless, what Masike has achieved here is no small
feat. Even where the focus leans toward specific traditions such as Nyunga
Nyunga, the work challenges other artists and researchers to document and
reflect on their own practices.
A defining feature of Masike’s artistic journey, as
reflected in this book, is her courage to experiment and hybridise. I am
reminded of the legacy of Dumisani Maraire, whose students have explored bold
musical fusions, blending Shona classics such as Nhemamusasa and Dangurangu
with compositions by Western classical figures like Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and
Ludwig van Beethoven. In a similar spirit, Masike’s adaptation of Shona church
hymns onto the mbira demonstrates both innovation and resilience. As she notes,
such experimentation has attracted criticism from multiple fronts, yet it is
precisely in these contested spaces that new creative possibilities emerge.
This book is, ultimately, an important and timely
contribution. It affirms the mbira not only as a musical instrument, but as a
repository of knowledge, identity, and cultural continuity. More importantly,
it signals a shift towards African artists writing themselves into history, on
their own terms.
Ignatius T. Mabasa, 2026
+we reproduce this foreword to Mbira Mberi with the kind permission of both Ignatius Mabasa and Hope Masike. For orders: +263 779 626881/hope.masike@gmail.com
