Zimbabweans face extreme challenges these days: a drastically declining economy driven by short-sighted government policies; widespread political violence reflecting the government's reluctance to accept the reality of a popular opposition party; and an AIDS pandemic that is shaking the society at its core, devastating the nation's workforce and producing a generation of orphans. It's no surprise that musicians are singing about these subjects. "An artist is mostly concerned about the poor," says one of Zimbabwe's most popular singers, Simon Chimbetu. "That's where we belong. You can't play for 15 people when you are 15 million." Implicit in Chimbetu's statement is the fact that most Zimbabweans are poor. The poor suffer the pain of inflated food prices; the poor can't afford medical treatment for sick family members. Naturally, the poor are drawn to the possibility of political alternatives, and so they become targets for roving gangs--often presenting themselves as "war veterans"--who currently terrorize Zimbabwe's urban ghettos and rural areas.

Such is the web of dark forces that complicate the lives of musicians in this once-promising southern African nation. Before last year's parliamentary elections, in which the ruling ZANU-PF party lost many seats to the new opposition party (Movement for Democratic Change), the country's biggest pop singer, Thomas Mapfumo released two songs condemning the achievements of the government he once helped to empower. "Mamvemve" said that for all its promises, ZANU-PF had reduced the country to tatters; and "Disaster" had a similar theme, requiring no translation. There were reports that these songs were banned from radio play by the Zimbabawe Broadcasting Company (ZBC). That was not strictly true. Although some DJs did refrain from playing these songs during the tense weeks just before the election, there was never any order to do so, and some made a point of playing the songs just to prove the point. But Zimbabwean musicians have experienced intimidation and implicit censorship. When Leonard Zhakata, a popular rumba singer, had his first hit in 1995, he was questioned about the song's lyrics. "Mugove" means a "fair share," and though song's lyrics are ambiguous, they imply a call for workers to be paid more. "Mugove" was adapted by some of the very same labor movements that would later come together to form the MDC party.

Zhakata was approached by men who asked him what he meant by the song. "These guys, they are not in uniform," he recalls, "but they said, 'You know, we can deal with you, and we can silence you.' And I said, 'Well, of course. But what I am telling you is the truth. Listen to the song. It doesn't talk about anyone in particular. I'm just singing my experiences.'" Zhakata went on to become a star, and complaints about possible political content in his songs moved from the interrogation room to the pages of government newspapers. But in 1999, another up-and-coming singer, Robbie Chagumuka, experienced similar questioning over a song that complained about rising prices.

Chagumuka recalls, "The first person called me on the phone and said, 'Look, I am an ex-combattant. Why are you singing such type of music?' I said, 'Look, I am talking the straight point here. Are you arguing with the point that I'm saying?' He said, 'Ah no, Robbie.' Then he started laughing. The second time they approached me in town. They said, 'We are from ZBC, but we are in the investigation team. We want to know what you were trying to say.'" Chagumuka claims he won't be intimidated, and he continues to sing about the situation, but like other singers, he understands that there are limits to what he can say, and he respects them.

Andy Brown, a popular maverick of Zimbabwe's music scene, got a shock when he went to ZBC to do an interview about his 2000 release, "Hondo ye Sadza," which roughly translates "war and food." Brown says, "The first 5 minutes were cool. They were starting to introduce the album to the nation and stuff. And the next thing, the DJ gets a call--I don't know from whom. So, I could just see this guy's face changing, and hear, 'Ah, yes, chef. Okay, chef. Sorry, chef.' And then he told me, 'Look, I can't interview you anymore.' And the next thing, there was police in the studio and we were escorted out into the rain. So that was the last time I was in the radio station. But we keep on singing the songs."

People clearly want these songs. They even find political messages in places where the artist claims none was intended. Oliver Mtukudzi has been taking heat since fall 2000 when he released the song "Wasakara." He says it's a song to help people accept the natural aging process. But his fans hear it as a call for President Robert Mugabe to resign, now that he is over 70 years old. Fans tried to turn the song into a rallying cry for supporting the MDC, but Mtukudzi doggedly maintains that, "It's a song that teaches people. I'm not a politician."

Despite the government's intimidation tactics and the artists' understandable fear, many continue to sing the suffering of ordinary Zimbabweans. They know there are limits to what they can say, but they also know that the people, their fans, expect no less from them.

Contributed by: Banning Eyre