Zahara: My late night calls with a musical healer

“Friend. I have something to tell you,” would come the voice over the phone at 2am in the morning.

On the other side of the line was one of the most talented vocalists this country has ever produced: Zahara.

Whether it was to vent about her private life or just gossip, Zahara often chose the late night hours to call. A time most spend in sleep or trying to find solitude.

And it was in these hours that I got another call on Monday with news of her death.

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It shook the nation, and led to a flood of tributes. A country broken by the passing of one who had so often healed them.

She was celebrated, but not enough for the incredible talent she had. Her genius was constantly overshadowed by constant battles with her former record label, alcoholism and debt.

She never tired of telling me how many days or weeks she was sober, and how she was going to take on the world.

But she was in a whirlwind. Her life was no longer her own.

She found fame doing the one thing in life she had control over and loved, music, and that fame trapped her.

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The solitude she once had with her guitar was replaced by bright lights, new “friends”, and pressure at home and at her label.

While she loved it at times, the fame was suffocating.

And in July 2014 her already fragile world fell apart.

Zahara’s younger brother Mbuyiseli was murdered in East London. His body was discovered with multiple gunshot wounds on the banks of a river in Next Camp. Police said only his cellphone was missing, and a motive had not been established.

She never recovered from it. How does anyone get over the heartache of losing someone so close to them without losing a part of themselves?

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Soon she was spiraling. She looked for healing in several places but never seemed to find the solitude and relief she needed.

As much as she wanted to run away from it all, music was her “gift” and she often spoke of the burden of responsibility she had to help others through her songs.

She told me in 2017 that she was looking to move overseas temporarily because she had given her all to Africa and got little in return.

“I have done everything I could here and now people have started to tear me apart. They focus on my private life instead of my music and they don’t give me the same respect.”

She never did end up leaving.

She has left us now.

We will never be the same again.

No more late night calls.

Only, finally, peace and solitude for Zahara.

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