Mutshongoyo still wins heart

By Artwell Chingwara Sithole

I was at Emerald Primary for Culture Day celebration, seated on a wooden bench that still smelled of chalk and dust. Then the drums started.

Boom. Boom. Pa-pa-boom.

Muchongoyo hit the field and the ground seemed to answer back. Dust rose with every stomp. The dancers’ shoulders moved like fire, feet striking the earth in a language older than English. Sweat flew. Eyes were bright. I felt it in my chest — that pull to stand up, loosen my tie, and join the circle. The drum’s rhythm filled my ears until everything else went quiet. Just me, the beat, and the memory of men I never met.

Because decades ago, that same rhythm was currency. My grandmother told stories by the fire: how great-grandfathers were given wives not just for cattle, but for how they moved when Muchongoyo played. If you could command the drum, you could command respect. The great farmers who filled granaries, the hunters who brought meat home — they too were “chosen” because of what they could do with their hands, their feet, their skill.

The logic was simple: talent fed people. Talent protected people. Talent was wealth.

Yesterday, watching teenagers mimic those ancient steps, I realized the logic hasn’t died. It’s just changed instruments. The drum is now a speaker. The dance floor is now a music video. I see it with Zimdancehall artists today — fame has become the new dowry. A hit song, a viral dance, a sold-out show… and suddenly the proposals come. Not with cattle, but with comments, DMs, and blue ticks.

From Muchongoyo to Zimdancehall, the message is the same: be excellent at something, and the world notices. Be excellent, and doors open. Be excellent, and even love listens.

The drums stopped at Emerald Primary. The children bowed, breathing hard, chests heaving. But the beat stayed in me. It reminded me that culture isn’t just costumes and performances. It’s how we’ve always measured value.

Our great-grandfathers danced for wives. Today’s artists rhyme for them. Tomorrow? Maybe it will be something else. But the principle remains: whatever your “drum” is — master it. Because rhythm, in every generation, still wins hearts.