I hope this makes it to you before you say goodbye.
Our paths crossed during that eventful summer of 1992, and we quickly formed a strong bond of friendship. Upon hearing your South African accent, I felt a sense of enrichment and gratitude. I wanted to learn from you. When I was 23, I had yet to embark on any overseas travels that would take me beyond North America. Although Canada may be different, it still holds a certain familiarity. Yes, in Quebec they speak French, but the overall culture remains comfortably American. Even my brief venture across the southern border hardly qualified as true travel. Meeting someone who grew up in South Africa was exhilarating, just as I'm sure you were equally thrilled to be in the United States. I admit that I bombarded you with numerous political questions about Apartheid, Mandela, and Rwanda. Perhaps they caught you off guard, but my curiosity to learn was genuine.
After that summer, we all formed a close-knit relationship and relished everything London had to offer. During those halcyon days of our twenties in the early and mid-1990s, London felt like the center of the world. Whether it was the influence of Brit Pop, the athletic achievements of Linford Christie, Sally Gunnell, and Steve Redgrave, or the excitement surrounding England’s chances at the World Cup and Eurovision, we were swept up in the energy of the times and living carefree in a world-class city. Your adventures and experiences could easily fill the pages of a captivating memoir. From your time working for the King of Nigeria to countless other tales, there is no shortage of stories you could tell.
Over the years we all got married and had kids. In our search for more space and a higher quality of life, we bid farewell to London. Families, moving away, and growing older often create distances in relationships, yet we have remained close friends for thirty-two years. Despite the physical separation, our bond has remained strong. We chose you as a godmother because of your incredible wisdom, knowledge, and zest for life. Could Elle's youthful wisdom and love for life come from you?
The memories we all made on the English Coast in 2016, our reunion for that wonderful, but expensive lunch in King's Cross in 2022, and our most recent Zoom will forever be cemented in our hearts. The conversations and laughter flowed effortlessly as if no time had passed.
Over the years, I have frequently shared my passion for music with all of you. During our late-night dinner and game parties, amidst the flowing bottles of wine and beer, I would reach for the next record pulled deep from my collection. No, I never bought any Whitney or Celine nor will you find many Top 40 Pop tunes or Eurovision stars. Despite the teasing about my "weird" and "hippy-dippy" record collection, I always enthusiastically expressed myself through my love of music and art.
I now ask for your patience as I share one final song with you that comes straight from the heart of your homeland.
Hugh Masekela holds a special place in the hearts of many South Africans. My love for jazz was awakened when I discovered his music. From 1964 to 1966, he was married to the incredible Miriam Makeba, another national treasure of South Africa. Miriam shared her mother’s traditional Swaziland healing song; ‘Bajabula Bonke’ with Hugh, which he later recorded for his 1968 album, The Promise of a Future. This album also featured his hit song, ‘Grazing in the Grass.’ Throughout Hugh’s illustrious sixty-year career, ‘Bajabula Bonke (The Healing Song)’ was a constant in his live set. The lyrics, sung in ecstatic gospel, translate to:
When I was able and healthy
I had many friends
But now that I am bedridden
I see many smiles on many faces
The initial sounds of drums, bass, and piano enter quietly, mimicking the serene rhythm of waves caressing the beaches along your hometown of Durban. When Hugh’s flugelhorn softly comes in it evokes the sun rising over the Indian Ocean casting its golden warmth across your land. A country so beautiful, yet with much sadness in its colonial history. Nevertheless, its people remain proud and resilient, just as you are. Masekela's voice resonates from deep within, and his tongue and pitch inflections convey both sorrow and a celebration of life that offers healing for those struck with illness and a nation burdened with deep wounds. Around the 2’55 mark, the rhythm quickens, resembling the galloping of migrating wildebeest. Al Abreu's saxophone sings like birdsong in the vast blue African skies above. When Masekela's flugelhorn returns at around 4 minutes and 23 seconds, it creates an angelic moment of pure grace. Eventually, the song elegantly reaches its coda around the 5’14 mark, gently fading out like the sunset disappearing behind the Southern Atlantic Ocean. The final notes are a tender kiss of light, bidding farewell as the evening sun slips beneath the water's western horizon.
You have touched all our hearts and through our tears, we are smiling with you, for you, and upon you.
Please know that you will be spoken of as the radiant stars illuminating the night sky, the grace & beauty of South Africa’s brave blue crane, and the vibrant hues of spring flowers. They will help us heal and remind us of you.
This is a healing song.
For you.
For us.
Wonderful story of connection. I don’t know this song, and also didn’t know that Masekela and Makeba were married!! Thank you!
So sorry for the loss of your friend Michael. What a lovely tribute you’ve written here and the accompanying song is absolutely gorgeous. Sending you positive thoughts for strength and courage as you mourn your friend.