Running out of the tunnel onto the field this world cup, the Springboks sang “YiBokke lena, yiBokke le. Abangaziyo, abazange bayibona [These are the Springboks, those who know them haven’t seen them like this].”
Before they left for France, captain Siya Kolisi and teammates Damian Willemse, Canan Moodie and Frans Malherbe took to YouTube to teach the rest of us this gwijo, or song of support. In doing so, they received some much-needed musical help from Cape Town musician The Kiffness.
Despite their efforts, some are not too sure about the song — people like Queen’s College head boy and first-team rugby captain Axola Khatshwa and his cheerleader Ziya Bidi, both 18.
I think you will find more old people singing that type of gwijo, ma’am. No offence, but people like 28- to 30-year-olds. It’s their own gwijo, no offence again, it’s not like ours.
— Axola Khatshwa
“I think you will find more old people singing that type of gwijo, ma’am. No offence, but people like 28- to 30-year-olds. It’s their own gwijo, no offence again, it’s not like ours,” Khatshwa told the Sunday Times this week.
He would know.
Khatshwa’s Eastern Cape school is at the forefront of a cultural movement that has swept the country, from township and former Model C schools to top private institutions. Children of all races are singing songs in African languages to support their sports teams.
The gwijo is a genre of song in call-and-response form led by a singer or singers. It is a 30- to 45-second melody repeated over and over until it fades away and the crowd starts another one. Gwijos differ from war cries in that the latter are chants whose words remain unchanged. Gwijo lyrics are adapted to suit the occasion and evolve over time.
Instantly recognisable gwijos include Shosholoza and Thina siyazalana mama (Zumpe), which can be heard in the MTN “One team, 60-million voices” advert. Another is Hamba wena, which Banyana Banaya sang in their World Cup dressing room.
Businessman Chulumanco Macingwane established the Gwijo Squad — volunteer sports supporters — in 2018 after he attended a rugby match in Durban where the atmosphere was “dry”.
“iGwijo is not just a Xhosa thing, it is present in all our indigenous cultures,” he said. “At Sotho weddings you will hear igwijo and at the reed dance in KwaZulu-Natal they will be singing amagwijo — wherever people are gathered.”
But who composes them and how they are adapted for sports support “is one of the great mysteries of the culture of igwijo”, Macingwane said.
“They are almost self-perpetuating. Almost every season there are new gwijos, they spread like a virus. And amazingly, everyone knows them, and nobody knows who comes up with them. They speak to the musicality of the culture.
“They are spread from boys’ schools like Queen’s College in Komani, Dale College in Qonce and Selbourne in East London — gwijo creative powerhouses.”
Like most things involving teenagers, social media has been instrumental in spreading the culture and the gwijos, he said.
“The songs that go viral on TikTok tend to be uncomplicated gwijos. Some in the Eastern Cape are quite involved and complicated for people for whom Xhosa is not a first language. But for 90% of the songs, you do not require the language to be accessible.”
Khatshwa and Bidi agreed. The gwijos on TikTok are too simple, Bidi said. What they do is gather the latest offerings from their hometowns and share them with friends in hostels. “You teach the boarders first and the whole school knows them,” he said.
Khatshwa, who also attended Queen’s College primary school, doesn’t remember a time when he hasn’t sung gwijos at school. “It’s always been like this,” he said. “At break time, when people are sitting together, they just start singing. During big derby games — say we are playing Selbourne that Saturday — we will feel the atmosphere in school through the corridors and at break time with igwijo. That’s when the hype starts.”
On the field, Khatshwa described his school’s sung support as “like an extra spur ... an extra spiritual boost”.
“Gwijos make you think about your background, where you were, the tough times you’ve had, and that moment of singing makes you forget everything ... It’s like a sparkly feeling, and that feeling of unity is just awesome,” he said.
Bidi added: “They calm me down, remind me of good times and get me through difficult times, and give me encouragement. It’s how I express my emotions.”
About 1,000km north, at St John’s College in Johannesburg, Majil’Aphiwe Nqumba, 18, the school’s Custos, or guardian of tradition, said the pupils have been singing gwijos for the past 15 years, predominantly in Xhosa and Zulu, but nobody is excluded.
“All students value being able to participate in activities such as the singing of amagwijo, learning about other cultures or embracing African hymns in our chapel services because it strengthens their global perspective. Ultimately [it] facilitates cultural exchange from which everyone benefits.”
Just how far and wide gwijo culture has spread is evidenced by the number of entries to the MTN iGwijo Challenge, in which schools and sports clubs take a video of a gwijo and upload it for a shot at R1m in prize money.
MTN senior manager for sponsorship Bongani Ntshingila said there have been 156 entries in the competition, devised to “give South African children a voice and tap into a growing culture to rally the nation behind the Springboks”.
“What has been amazing to see is how many translate the various songs. We are telling entrants to sing it their way,” he said. “Gwijo has been tapped into by black and white culture, and cuts through race barriers, creating a new heritage, just like rugby cut through barriers.”
Pumelele Martin, 63, a natural sciences teacher and rugby coach at Ndzondelelo High School in Kolisi’s hometown, Zwide, was also buoyed by gwijos as a rugby player in the 1970s and 1980s.
“I look at YouTube and see pupils at former Model C schools singing gwijos; the boys from the townships have taken the gwijos there. It’s a living heritage,” he says.
“Gwijos give our players courage. They are singing as if they are warriors going to fight in a war and they get courage. They lift their spirits and increase their confidence to win.”
While Kolisi’s YiBokke lena may be an “old” person’s gwijo, Nqumba said he is “elated that umalume [uncle] Siya is foregrounding [it] to diversify Springbok stadium anthems and create opportunities for cultural exchange”.
“The Kiffness and umalume Siya are certainly changing the landscape of gwijo by making it more accessible to other audiences.”
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