Brenda Fassie seven years later

While her music refuses to fade away, the icon will forever be known more for her exploits off than on stage, writes Njeri Kihang’ah. South African songbird Brenda Fassie, who died seven years ago next week, had a knack for scandals — all sorts of them.

Her lows seem to overide the fact that she bagged shelves worth of accolades including the prestigious Kora Award. Her death presents the world with an opportunity every year to revisit the drama that was her life. To this day, most press mentions paint her as a lippy, suicidal drug addict who often felt the need to be seen and heard. “I am a shocker. I like to create controversy. It’s my trademark,” she once said and for sure, she left a mark.

Take for instance her debut appearance in the US at a club in Washington where she wowed fans with her vocals and in the same breath managed to get them gasping when her breasts popped out of her costume. Much to the patrons’ suprise, she was not moved. In fact, she savoured the moment.
“This,” she announced, “ is Africa!”

Perhaps she was just capitalising on what many marketers know— sex sells. Afterwards, in an interview, she said that her promoters had warned her never to do that again. At the South African Music Awards 2000, where she was praised for her prowess, Brenda flashed her legs at the crowd. She hit a jackpot at the awards inviting a wild cheer that spread like a wave in the audience.

Dubbed by Time magazine as the Madonna of the Townships, Brenda had the tantrums of the diva she was. At the close of the music awards, Brenda snatched a microphone from a reporter who was interviewing another artiste. It was her night, she claimed. In 2001, while leaving the John F Kennedy Airport the BBC reported that she announced with excitement, “Brenda Fassie in the house!” but only a few African tourists took notice and asked her to pose for photos with them before she strutted away.

Musical passion
Then again, she was a diva, deserving of every photo of the spotlight cast on her. Her more than two decades of press coverage was as a result of tireless musical passion that began at age five. While her agemates were playing in the small village of her birth, Langa in Cape Town, she was already making money from singing to tourists, seemingly taking after the US country singer Brenda Lee, whom she was named after.

At age 16, Brenda packed her bags for the big city, Johannesburg, in search of a more progressive musical career after meeting music producer Koloi Lebona who was instantly made a convert fan.
In 1986, with her band, Brenda and the Big Dudes, she released the phenomenally successful Weekend Special that catapulted her to stardom. Success in her head, she opted for a solo career slowly morphing into a voice for the oppressed South Africans.

In the streets of Soweto, she became a queen of sorts. Fusing international pop sounds with distinct African influences, her music was on many a lip.
While some critics maintain that her art was “musically unremarkable”, Brenda’s teenage voice was now a proper show stopper with international acclaim.
To the critics’ chagrin, Too Late for Mama was hugely successful following its video release. When US singer Alicia Keys performed its rendition at the 2010 World Cup Opening concert in Johannesburg, the crowd went ecstatic.

There is no doubt that Brenda’s life was filled with success, but surprises were also in abundance. Her personal life spilled into the limelight in 1995 when she was discovered in a hotel room with the body of her lesbian lover, who had died of an apparent overdose. Consequently, Brenda was forced to check into rehab to clean her act.

Doing drugs
It is said that the artiste may have been in and out of drug rehabilitation centres for about 30 times, with no significant success.
Her album, Memeza (shout) released in 1997 is the hallmark of her success, going platinum on the first day of release. More importantly, Brenda termed it as the album that epitomised her life.
“I’d been shouting and shouting and no one wanted to hear me. When I sing this song, I want to cry,” she told the press about the album, adding that a new dawn had begun for her.
And one could argue that it did. Brenda went on to release hit after hit that has since been wringed into about 19 albums. She also contributed to Miriam Makeba’s Sangoma and Harry Belafonte’s Paradise in Gazankulu, an anti-apartheid album.

And she seemed to be at a good place as she bounced back with a confidence that hadn’t been witnessed earlier. “I’m going to become the Pope next year. Nothing is impossible!” she exclaimed.
But the Pope wouldn’t have approved of her cocaine addiction and a failed marriage to an ex-convict that began in 1989 and ended in 1991, leaving a son, Bongani Fassie, in the middle. But to say that her fans are a forgiving lot is an understatement. Brenda was voted 17th in the Top 100 Great South Africans.

More tributes
She continues to be the subject of many blogs on South African music and culture. In July last year, Ma Brr, a musical that chronicles her life was staged as a tribute. To help the cast appreciate her adventures, consultants from the South African media who had followed the icon closely, were called upon. However, as Times Live website reported, the production needed a lot of (fundamental) work in threading the rise and fall of the “bad girl” in South Africa’s entertainment industry.

South African media agency, News24 reported that before Brenda collapsed in her brother’s arms, she threw a cocaine straw on to the kitchen floor of her home in Buccleuch. She fell into a coma and stopped breathing. Her heart stopped beating and she had brain damage from a lack of oxygen. Brenda was pronounced dead on May 9, 2004. Post mortem reports claimed that the musician was HIV positive, but her family denied the report.

[email protected]