The sad and tragic life of singer Lundi Tyamara

The tragic end of the life of gospel singer Lundi Tyamara is a sad reflection of how drugs and alcohol have decimated the country’s youth.

Here was a brilliant young man whose beautiful voice could have paved his way to a future that would have seen him soar through the skies like an eagle and become one of South Africa’s finest, if not the most gifted all-round male singer since the late tenor jazz groaner, Ronny Madonsela, in the ’60s.

Of course, there are those in the gospel music circles who will tell you in no uncertain terms just how good Lundi was.

My question to them is: surely if Lundi was indeed that good a gospel singer, why then did he live the life of a homeless vagrant and die a penniless pauper, while his peers grew rich and lived in the lap of luxury?

In fact, it has been confirmed by those once close to the deceased singer that the reason why Lundi’s career was “held back” was that gospel music fundis feared he could have easily eclipsed the celebrated “grandmother of gospel music”, the honorable Dr Rebecca Molope, despite their difference in gender. Recording studio voice experts have always concurred that their voices were cunningly identical, with Lundi’s, of course, slightly polished.

That’s just how good Lundi was as a singer. His hordes of fans, both inside and outside South Africa, can easily attest to that. Let alone the thousands of albums he is reported to have sold in his short but illustrious and tragic career.

Of course, only experts in this music genre and those who worked with Lundi can dispute or affirm this.

My first encounter with Lundi was around 1989. The late “Mzansi Afro-pop queen”, Brenda Fassie had just “hooked up” with her young and handsome “Ben-10” beau, Durbanite socialite and man-of the moment Nhlanhla Mbambo. The newly-wedded couple had settled into their secluded love nest in Fleurhof, behind the dusty mine dumps that separate Meadowlands Township in Soweto and Roodepoort mines.

Lundi was a teenager then, the errand boy of the establishment. “MaBrrr” would occasionally feature the aspiring Lundi as a backing vocalist alongside her (Brenda’s) cousin-sister Caroline Fassie, with other singers.

Of course, life in showbiz often tends to flow more freely, too fast and too easily and in many different directions.

Young Lundi soon found himself surrounded by opulence and the “style-style” rhythm of the era.

Throughout the years that I knew Lundi, I never saw him indulge in any form of drugs or drinking. But having spent the best of part of my young adult life with musicians as a showbiz writer, I soon heard rumours and saw tell-tale signs that led me to believe that Lundi had in fact become like some of his reckless peers: a drug addict and alcoholic.

For Lundi, the glaring prospects of fame, glamour and stardom became overwhelming.

As well-known stage and showbiz fashion designer, Meisie “Sista Bucks” Mosimane – whose clientele included the late Brenda Fassie, Miriam Makeba, Hugh Masekela, Tsepo Tshola and Rebecca Malope, to name just a few – said when I approached her for comment: “What happened to Lundi Tyamara was not uncommon for local artists. The history of South Africa’s music is littered with casualties of drugs and alcohol who all died poor, penniless paupers.”

We all agree that we’ve seen too many of our popular local musicians die destitute, and we all agree that it is in fact the musicians themselves who can stop this tragic cycle of endless shame. The question now is: how and when?

Sadly, the truth will continue to pain us all.

Lala ngo xolo Tyamara – Akwehlenga lungehliyo!