Music lovers with a keen interest in SA's strange and unusual history mourned the death this week of singer and songwriter Tebogo "Steve" Kekana, "SA's Stevie Wonder", who died of Covid-19 complications just short of 63.
At the time of his death, Kekana was recording yet another album, a further milestone if that was ever necessary in a career that was shaped as much by the jagged and eccentric contours of SA's past as it was by his great love for music, and his undoubted talent and virtuosity, at genres ranging from pop to soul, gospel and mbaqanga.
He released more than 30 albums and dozens of hit songs, across the spectrum of styles.
In addition to being a legend on the recording scene, and a performer too, Kekana punctuated his lifelong love for music to become a lawyer and a recognised and regarded fighter for the rights of musicians and artists, especially the disabled.
He lost his sight at age five from an illness and the stigma of being blind contributed in no small part to his taking emotional refuge in music. Singing in the choir while at a boarding school for the blind provided a balm for the humiliation he endured.
Kekana had been singing at school for years and performed with local bands in his home province, Limpopo, for just two years before he was spotted and offered a chance to record a song in Johannesburg.
He quickly shot to national prominence, building a solid fan base in Europe, too.
In 1979 and 1980 he won the SABC "Black Music" award, and his hits The Bushman and Feel so Strong, the latter a duet with his friend and collaborator of many years, PJ Powers, rose on the Springbok Radio charts. It was unheard of then for a blind, black recording artist.
Kekana was born in Zebediela, Limpopo, and attended Siloe School for the Blind, 40km south of Polokwane. He would have matriculated in 1976, but even as head prefect he was expelled after clashing with school authorities about conditions at the school. He completed his schooling a year later, by correspondence, then trained, among other things, as a switchboard operator.
Kekana was not a politician, nor were his songs political, although he stood unsuccessfully as an independent candidate in the municipal elections in 1995, in Soweto.
Through his legal activism in his work in support of the rights of overlooked and exploited artists, he showed that he was more than a singer of popular songs. And in any event it was through his unique style of singing, and the simplicity of his songs about love and relationships, that Kekana spread his message of harmony in music, and in life.
He came to prominence, to whites at least, through Springbok Radio, at a time when most white suburbanites knew of African music only what they heard from their domestic workers' radios.
In the racial Rubik's cube that was apartheid SA, Kekana 'crossed over' to white audiences
Perhaps, surmises music guru and historian Sean Brokensha, the attraction to younger whites spoke of a newfound interest in diversity, which had been stoked by Johnny Clegg and Juluka. But it was also just easy on the ear, and the fact that the singer was a black South African who was blind too seemed to somehow reassure white South Africans still recoiling from the violent anger displayed in 1976.
In the racial Rubik's cube that was apartheid SA, Kekana "crossed over" to white audiences, while performing with Powers's Hotline, which was a white group "crossing over" to a black audience.
Naturally, in the high-strung political atmosphere of the time, Kekana's white appeal ran the danger of opening him to claims of collaboration with apartheid. But, says Brokensha, Kekana succeeded in avoiding the "Uncle Tom" tag, and "had a massive township following, and in Africa, too".
His breakthrough hit, in 1979, was Raising my Family, a deceptively simple reggae-themed number that took off in Europe and in SA. That the song was a hit in Europe first, going to No 1 in Sweden, may have eased its path to mainstream South African radio airwaves, suggests Brokensha. His "crossover" appeal marked him apart from the bigger African artists at the time, some of whom, like Miriam Makeba, had international appeal and pedigrees, but were ignored by white-run radio.
Kekana's work with Powers elevated his profile but he never lost credibility, said Brokensha, who echoed the words of arts & culture minister Nathi Mthethwa, who said "he brought us happiness in the darkest days of apartheid".
In the 1980s Kekana's popularity across the racial divide didn't go unnoticed by the apartheid state, which saw him as an ideal mascot for its attempts to portray itself as an open, tolerant society. To this end, Kekana was drawn into the infamous Song for Peace project, with promises of a big payday, while other artists were vocal about boycotting the charade.
In the 1980s Kekana's popularity across the racial divide didn't go unnoticed by the apartheid state, which saw him as an ideal mascot for its attempts to portray itself as an open, tolerant society
Angry residents of Soweto set fire to his house, and Kekana recanted, saying, according to a Weekly Mail report in 1987, "I hope people understand that I would never do anything to sell out any black person".
That Kekana managed nonetheless to avoid the stigma of an Uncle Tom was due to his unique voice and talents, and that he had a huge fan base in the townships and indeed across Africa.
Along with his 30 albums he had 70 gold records, which included songs in English, Zulu, Tsonga and Sesotho, and sometimes the same song in at least two languages.
While Kekana was a fighter and advocate for the rights of musicians and recording artists, his career was far removed from the stereotype of the artist as a person exploited and left in financial ruin even after a few hits and fleeting popular adulation.
"He was an organised guy, he had his act together," said Brokensha, who wanted Kekana's life to be celebrated, especially in this time of Covid, when so many people are passing, almost unnoticed, reduced to collateral damage in a larger war for survival.
Not content with musical success alone, Kekana completed his BJuris and LLB degrees between 1994 and 1998. He was admitted as an advocate and worked for a long list of organisations committed to upholding performers' and disabled people's rights.
At one point he worked as a legal adviser for the Gauteng provincial government.
"He was a decent, community-centred guy," said Brokensha.
Powers said to Drum: "I toured Germany, Switzerland, and many other countries with him. He was funny, clever, and just brilliant, which is why he became an advocate ... Steve was an amazing man."
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