‘There are moments in life that are pure, and which seem to hang in the air, unhitched from the everyday world as we know it. Suspended for a few seconds, they float in their own space and time with their own hidden prospects. For want of a better term, we call these moments “magical” and when we remember them they are cloaked in a halo of special meaning.’ For 14-year-old Johnny Clegg, hearing Zulu street music as plucked on the strings of a guitar by Charlie Mzila one evening outside a corner café in Bellevue, Johannesburg, was one such ‘magical’ moment. The success story of Juluka and later Savuka, and the cross-cultural celebration of music, language, story, dance and song that stirred the hearts of millions across the world, is well documented. Their music was the soundtrack to many South Africans’ lives during the turbulent 70s and 80s as the country moved from legislated oppression to democratic freedom. It crossed borders, boundaries and generations, resonating around the world and back again. Less known is the story of how it all began and developed. Scatterling of Africa is that origin story, as Johnny Clegg wrote it and wanted it told. It is the story of how the son of an unconventional mother, grandson of Jewish immigrants, came to realise that identity can be a choice, and home is a place you leave and return to as surely as the seasons change.
It’s hard to know how to sum up this amazing book. Johnny Clegg’s music with Sipho Mchunu in Juluka became an important part of my daily life in South Africa. I adored their vibrant mix of Western and Zulu songs and whenever I think of the years I spent in KwaZulu Natal, I cannot do so without hearing their albums in my head.
However, I didn’t know much about Johnny Clegg the man at that time. It was all about the music. I knew he was known as the White Zulu; I knew he’d courageously crossed the racial boundaries forbidden by law and I knew that Sipho Mchunu had done the same. They were a remarkable, creative act and fantastic musicians to boot. However, that was all I knew … then.
Over the years, I’ve been able to fill in some of the gaps, but it is only reading his posthumous memoir of his early years that I have gained a much deeper and broader knowledge of who he was and what drove him. Scatterling of Africa (derived from perhaps Juluka’s best known song) is a fascinating account of how Johnny came to cross the race divide and learn to play the music of the Zulu migrants in Johannesburg. He also learnt to dance with the Zulus and was accepted as a group member, performing at numerous migrant hostels and township locations as the only white dancer. No wonder the people loved him so.
What struck me most in reading this incredibly moving account was how open the young Johnny was to all new experiences and how lacking in any kind of prejudice, a gift probably inherited from his equally open and non-judgemental mother. Having turned her back on a conservative and traditional Jewish background herself, she never attempted to stop him or influence his direction or social life, so he was free to form friendships among the Zulu migrants without censure – at least, not from her. The social and cultural path he trod did, of course, get him into trouble with the authorities quite often, but it never stopped him. Johnny Clegg was not a political activist; he was just who he was following his own passions and friendships.
This book has made a huge impression on me and I know for sure I will read it again. I never saw Juluka perform, but my love of their music endures and takes me back to South Africa every time I listen to it. I am so pleased Johnny Clegg left this legacy in writing. I shall treasure it always.
This delightful book is a must read for any fan of the late Johnny Clegg and the magical music he and his warrior mates made. This reviewer had vaguely heard of Clegg and his bands Jaluka and Savuka before arriving in South Africa in 1998. I was immediately drawn to his music, which lit my path to the wider world of African music. Clegg died of cancer in July 2019 but had completed this manuscript before his death. This lively memoir takes readers on a journey through the fascinating life of Clegg who was born in England and spent his childhood in the racist regimes of South Africa, Rhodesia and then Zambia in its infancy as an independent country. Clegg recalls his time in Zambia as "the happiest period in my pre-teen years" - a country full of promise that had shed its racist skin. As a teenager in Johannesburg Clegg, who was considered Jewish by virtue of his mother's family, would be drawn to the world of the migrant Zulu labourer - and warrior. The result would be a life-time of immersion in Zulu culture, language and music. It is perhaps no surprise that aside from being a pioneering musician and song writer that Clegg would also become an anthropologist. His embrace of Zulu culture though would never be total - Clegg could never completely disregard his Western baggage. This comes forcefully across in his discussion of "magical thinking." "Explanations of fortune and misfortune are not simple in traditional Zulu societies and the Zulu have a particularly interesting and complex view on the subject," Clegg writes. "The first principle is that the natural environment - in fact all environments - is not necessarily benevolent or even neutral. The environment can be infiltrated by malevolent people who use the environment for nefarious purposes." Still, while the young Clegg - as a part of a team taking place in Zulu dance competitions - would join in rituals to repel the magic cast by competitors, this is a river he never ultimately crossed. His views on the matter are that of an anthropologist or historian. "Do I believe in the objective efficacy of magic? No," is his emphatic answer. But he goes on to say that "... I believe that believing it does cause a change in my subjective reality and lets me cope with difficult and dangerous challenges." Ultimately, this is a lyrical book about and by a lyrical man who reminded us that we are all "scatterlings of Africa." Africa is the cradle of humankind and all of us trace our roots to the continent where Homo sapiens evolved. This is why he sang of the "Ancient bones from Olduvai, Echoes of the very first cry, Who made me here and why, Beneath the copper sun?" My colleague at the Daily Maverick Marianne Thamm has written a review of this fine book that focuses on the warrior ethos and the need for men to belong. https://www.dailymaverick.co.za/artic... I will probably add to my review here in the same publication. Stay tuned ...
I had come to Johnny Clegg's music fairly recently when I went to see him on stage for his final tour concert at Kirstenbosch Gardens in Cape Town. At the time he was in remission from the terminal pancreatic cancer that took his life a year later. He came across as a very likeable and well-balanced individual who showed no sign of bitterness or resentment. He was an immensely popular figure with the local audience and I enjoyed his music, his incredible high kicks and the sense of camaraderie he had with his fellow musicians. What I didn't realise until reading this book was the extent to which he had totally immersed himself in Zulu culture. At 15 he persuaded a street musician to teach him maskandi guitar. He went into migrant hostels in Johannesburg where he joined teams of dancers, winning competitions. He went to live with Zulus on their homelands, travelling on 'blacks only' buses. He became fluent in the language and studied Anthropology, eventually becoming a lecturer at the university in Natal. He made lifelong Zulu friends including band member, Sipho. He and Sipho went on to form the band, Juluka (which means sweat and was named amusingly after Sipho's ox). They performed this hybrid music accompanied by Zulu dancing in halls and townships at a time when the law forbade blacks and whites to be on the stage together. They recorded music that gave them a world stage. The music also drew attention to the politics of South Africa which at the time, was attracting worldwide condemnation. Unwittingly, he had become part of a bigger political issue: "I didn't go looking for politics," he said. "Politics found me." But his music was joyous entertainment, loved for its own sake and it showed the country and the world how men of different races could live and work together in South Africa and be a creative force.
It’s not often you get a book like this where you struggle to put down that provides an account of South African history, dynamics and cultural appreciation written is such a beautiful and non-political manner. This book took me straight back to when I studied Zulu at Wits Language school a few years ago. Learning a language opens you eyes to a new culture and ways of thinking. In this book Johnny takes that to an entire new level and gives us an honest and true account on immersing yourself into a culture that’s not what you were born into. What Johnny provides, in his unique way, is his deeper and philosophical understanding of life, self-identity and friendships. Group areas act, hostels, migrant workers, music, dance, self-identity , bonds and friendship through the eyes of Johnny is remarkable and eye-opening. To his family that took time and commitment to complete the book – kudos to you!
This biography was captivating in its own way. There is a sort of disclaimer in the beginning warning that the authors work wasn't added to and that this is as much as the author managed to write during his time on earth. And yet it managed to capture his life and take the reader along seamlessly.
I enjoyed the parts about his experience with the Zulu culture. I for one was most curious about how he started his music journey and his acquaintance with the Zulu culture. I enjoyed imagining the parts of Johannesburg mentioned in the book and what it was like during the apartheid era when Johnny Clegg was sneaking into dominantly black areas.
His love for his music and mostly his love for family was who he was. If he wasn't doing music he was home with his loved ones. His kind spirit shone through and absolutely absorbed you into his story.
I really enjoyed reading and getting to know a bit more about Johnny Clegg. I loved it.
A beautifully written account of Jonny's early life, particularly of his adolescent years and how his search for identity embraced the migrant Zulu community living in Johannesburg.
I am sorry that I managed to see Savuka perform only once at the Market Theatre in Jhb CBD: amazing stuff.
Christmas is around the corner - spoil someone you love with a special gift.
It was wonderful to read of Johnny's early years in his voice, and to learn from him - he always was an educator in his concerts, and he continues to teach us about the Zulu migrant culture in this book.
SCATTERLING OF AFRICA. By Johnny Clegg If you, like me, are a loving fan of the late Johnny Clegg, then you will enjoy this read. Johnny, born in the UK, lived most of his life in South Africa. Although he was of Jewish decent, it was the Zulu culture where Johnny felt most comfortable, clearly causing a great deal of havoc during the Apartheid era. Johnny Clegg, known as the ‘White Zulu’ writes his unique, awe-inspiring story - a story with no ending - as sadly this phenomenal man died way too young from pancreatic cancer. Johnny was a man who totally immersed himself in the migrant Zulu culture, sharing with his readers his many experiences, and what he loved about his loyal Zulu friends who taught him to live and love their customs, beliefs and traditions, mainly through music and dance. This book made me smile, it made me cry, it made me miss all that magical African culture which I so loved growing up in South Africa. If I could speak Zulu, my parting words to this great man would be, “Rest in peace dear Johnny. Thank you for the music. You are a legend, loved by us all.”
This book is a real treasure for Johnny Clegg fans. I thought I knew a fair bit about Johnny prior to reading this, and even had the honour of interviewing him once. But this memoir delves into his early formative years and explores his family life as well as the path that led him into Zulu music and dancing. There's a lot in here that will be new to fans.
How can I best sum it up? It's a story about finding your identity and not being pressed into pre-existing cultural expectations. It's a story about friendship, loss, and finding your way. It's a story about finding belonging in a cruel crazy beautiful world. And while it remained incomplete at the time of Johnny's passing, it feels like it reached a natural end point. So it almost goes without saying that I can't recommend this book highly enough.
I enjoyed the deeper insight into what shaped Johnny Clegg and his amazing music, which I had grown up with and always enjoyed. How he became fascinated with Zulu migrant culture, dance and music in his early years is nicely explained. Widely acknowledged for breaking down racial barriers, Johnny Clegg has a special place in the history of South Africa’s recent history.
Ayikho inkomo yobuthongo” is my new favourite expression (sleeping never rewarded anyone with a living cow). Johnny Clegg’s never-ending journey of learning passed much on to me through Scatterling of Africa.
Juluka first came to my ears through what was then Radio 3 in Zimbabwe. Their songs featured regularly on Hit Pick (Sponsored by Dairibord – tastes like a goal in extra time!). I became an instant fan.
Driving to South Africa for the first time during school holidays I had the enormous pleasure of watching Juluka perform for what would be the first of many times, at the Rand Show – then in Milner Park Johannesburg – I could hardly believe my luck. I’m writing this review from the shores of a lake north of Montreal, where, oh, I can’t remember how many years ago, I was one of many more than 100 thousand people who watched Johnny Clegg perform on the street at the Montreal Jazz Festival, where he was riding the wave of enormous popularity as le Zoulou Blanc.
Scatterling of Africa was given to me by my dear friends and neighbours in Johannesburg, the Fouries. I was a bit apprehensive to open it up, fearing that I might end up being disappointed by one of my musical heroes. My worries could not have been further from the truth. Johnny confirmed what I always hoped was true – he truly was a universal man – a human of one planet, curious and keen to understand who we are, what brings us together, and what we have in common. He was not the first to say that he wasn’t looking for politics, but politics found him (I also fall into that category). To take a stand, to have an opinion, to leave the assembly line, is to invite politics to invade your life.
Johnny Clegg might have made a good secretary general of the United Nations; at the very least, South African minister of culture (if not president).
The word ubuntu doesn’t seem to get much more than lip service these days. Johnny Clegg was ubuntu. The term rainbow nation is feeling rather monochrome at the moment. Johnny Clegg personified the rainbow nation in fabulous technicolour. He personifies hope.
When I was 17 I walked into the music store at the Grand Teton Mall in Idaho Falls, looking for something different. I found a single cassette with two songs on a discount rack. I had no idea who Johnny Clegg was, but from the song titles—Scatterlings of Africa and The Gumba Gumba Jive—and the crazy designs on the cover I thought maybe I had found what I was looking for. I bought the tape and became an instant fan.
While other kids my age were listening to basic top forty chart music, I was listening to a guy from South Africa sing about Apartheid, civil war, and fascism. I was listening to a guy who’d been jailed on multiple occasions for performing in public with a mixed race band. Many of his songs became anthems to me and have always been there playing a prominent role in the soundtrack of my life.
In 2012 I actually had the UNBELIEVABLE opportunity to see Johnny Clegg in concert. I got to meet him, take a picture and he signed that first little tape I bought for cheap so many years ago.
I can’t explain why I’ve always felt such an affinity to the man and the music which was a complete world apart from my own. The music just connected with me on some deep level I’ll never be able to explain. I devoured this book and was so grateful for the extra tidbits of insight it offers into the interesting life of Johnny Clegg. This will book will forever be a valuable treasure on my book shelf. An enthusiastic five stars!
Having grown up in the same era and the same city as Johnny it seems like we lived in different worlds. This book provides a fascinating insight into the lives, customs, traditions and experiences of migrant labourers having to survive in an alien environment with all odds stacked against them. Johnny managed to immerse himself in their world and be accepted as one of them. I had heard him relate some of his experiences as a teenager growing up in Johannesburg and learning music and dance forms from migrant labourer friends who lived in the hostels scattered around the city, but this book completes the picture for me. His experiences when visiting Sipho's family homestead in the Tugela Valley were especially interesting. This was a phenomenal read.
Johnny takes you on a journey into the African migrant culture of the 70’s and 80’s. He highlights the beauty in the warrior dancing and culture. The way he explains his experiences and knowledge gathered makes you fall in love with the African culture. For a Jewish born in England, childhood in Zimbabawe and finally coming to South Africa he did not just embrace SA but everything African. A true son of Africa. I have always loved his music and will continue to. His dedication to the struggle of apartheid through music is something I am so grateful for.
I grew up listening to his music. I had no idea the journey he had gone through to get there. This was a wonderful book to read. I'm so glad he wrote it and shared it with the world. Wemyss you Johnny.
A fascinating insight into an amazing life and my home city. It includes flashes of brilliant understanding of life, and of death, in this cruel, crazy, beautiful world.
So much of this book feels deeply familiar - the streets of Johannesburg, the Group Areas Act, Mangles in Braamfontein (a small venue for folksingers - where Johnny and Sipho had to sit in the kitchen in case the police arrived! - courtesy of the Separate Amenities Act) and of course Park Station. Most of all, I loved Clegg's tone: fun, accepting, expert at avoiding confrontations with authorities. I particularly liked the story of 'Woza Friday' being banned on Radio Zulu because English was mixed with Zulu - so unacceptable to separate development! So interesting to read how involved Johnny Clegg was with the migrant labourers in Johannesburg. He lived in Yeoville in a flat and learnt how to play maskandi guitar: taught by a cleaner (Charlie) who was also a warrior dancer. The dancing fascinated Johnny and he soon became very adept at it, even though he had to be sneaked into venues. This all happened while he was a teenager, and it is clear that he found his place as a man in Zulu culture - his stepfather had disappeared off to Australia, tragically taking Johnny's little sister with him. His words resonate with me: "I came to love Zulu through words. Words embedded in traditional melodies. Idioms, proverbs and turns of phrase in isiZulu, often edged with humour, reshaped my experience of things. ... I believe the more languages we speak the more layered and enriched our identities become. ... Grappling with words is like grappling with an existential magnifying glass where sounds enable you to understand and shape a sensation or experience."
An amazing memoir/auto-biography of Johnny Clegg's early years. I was introduced to Johnny Clegg & Savuka in the early 80s and feel so lucky to have seen him in concert twice. I knew a little of his history but that was just the tip of the iceberg.
I was quite impressed with Johnny's honesty and simple curiosity as he navigated his childhood and teen years, searching for belonging, both within the community and inside himself. He was driven to learn and join in the Zulu warrior culture, especially the music and the dancing, and nothing would stop him. He immersed himself and even studied social anthropology in college. His insights and connects were amazing to read, especially regarding Zulu masculinity and cattle culture and how they fit into the migrant community.
My only complaint would be that I would have liked more introspection. But I got the vibe that soul-searching and discussion of personal human connections were not things that Johnny was given to discuss. How did his mother feel about his pursuits? How did he meet his wife? What did he think about Dan taking away his little sister? Things like that. I felt like most of the topics in this book were "outside" of Johnny rather than "inside" - if that makes sense. Still fascinating, though.
This book was a must-buy since Johnny Clegg was and remains my favourite South African singer and storyteller.
The book has been released by his family following his death in July 2019. It tells Johnny's own story about his background, family and life growing up as a child and up to/ including the release of some of his most popular earlier works.
Johnny is such a stand-out and unique character.
Having read how he was drawn to the Zulu culture as a teenager (which formed and shaped him as a young man), it was clear that his experiences molded the person and musician he would become later on.
The lack of a male role-model in his life brought about this searching for an identity that he felt comfortable with. The identity was incredible controversial at the time with Apartheid in South Africa and is a true testament to the power of the human spirit to overcome.
The autobiography of Johnny Clegg tells the story of the fascinating life of this wonderful person. It explains how he got immersed in Zulu culture as a teenager out of innocent curiosity and gives insight into the events that led to his remarkable career as a musician and activist, as well as the harsh reality of life for Zulu migrants under Apartheid South Africa. Unfortunately, due to his untimely departure, the chapters are not always as coherently structured as one would wish. Despite this, Scatterling of Africa gives an powerful account of Johhny Clegg's earlier life, as well as important aspects of South African culture and history.
An intimate book. It feels like Johnny Clegg is sitting with you in front of a fire under the stars, sharing parts of his journey with you alone. He explains much.
Some of the strongly resonating (for me) pieces:
“Our parents bring us up carrying their own woundedness, which is often hidden away, deep down. If they are aware of their own failures and if they are self-aware enough and don't blame the work but understand their own choices, they try and steer their kids into the stream of life with enough ammunition to cope and overcome adversity. I guess all children have to relive a section or a number moments that gave their parents some kind of wholeness and sense of safety and joy but also their brokenness .”
“Standard mom talk. But she would also say, 'You can be anything you want, not everything you want!”
(On the wedding ceremony/ritual) They watched and smiled and remember once they, too, were shining. Once they were strong and warriors. Momentarily they were connected to a repetitive motif down by its ancient inventors to bring two humans and their families together so that they could take on the world. How courageous and defiant, to create such a ritual that offers a frame to those involved, a fragile formula to help shield them against the gruelling endurance test in the days and years to come.’”
“A warrior not only sees through the trickster world, but actively engages it and says, Whatever your tricks, you will have to deal with me, for I am a problem for you and your great game, oh world! I am a warrior. I am unknowable, known only by my actions and the force of my will. In the end you will have to take account of me. I am not going away and my story will be told. I am the thorn in your foot that can only be removed by means of another thorn.”
“He (Sipho) explained how the river had carved its way through them (the mountains downstream) and, if one noticed, he said, it was a clever route. There is a patient wisdom in the way rivers run, he told me. They flow against rocks and mountains and slowly find their way to where they are going.
We floated on our backs for a few minutes. I could feel the current pulling at me, moving me forward. When we got out of the water, shivering from the sudden cool air on our skin, we stood together on the river bank and watched the majestic flow make its way downstream. There's something hypnotic and comforting about watching a river do what rivers do, moving inexorably towards theirdestinations. A feeling of being left behind drifts through the heart. It's like when the swallows gather at the end of summer in South Africa to make their way to Europe for the summer in the northern hemisphere. Swallows are migrants too. It leaves one with a sense of melancholy, of being left behind while something secret, invisible and magical is unfolding.
So it is with rivers. Every river dreams of the sea. They move with their secret destination contained in their flow. Downstream people and animals interact with the flow briefly but the river moves on.
It has worked out its course and its compass is fixed, and if there is an obstacle in its way, it will find a route around or over it either with flooding, force or patient exploration. Either way, its dream of melding into the ocean is always on its mind.”
“The only insight you find on top of a mountain is the insight you brought up with you. It was always there, silent and waiting for you to look inward. The climb is rough and it tears away each layer of the self until only raw, unmediated willpower is left. And when you reach the summit, the self eroded in the physical exertion, you look out across the world and suddenly an insight bursts into your mind.
It's like the view has magical manifesting powers. But that's an illu-sion. You just shed the dross of ego and took a breath and liberated what you already knew. Mountains don't carry wisdom. They only help you see your own truth by unravelling your defences.
Sometimes you can only reach a summit or goal with belief or faith. Religion and magic are springboards for this kind of motivation and impetus.”
“Perhaps, I thought, for him it wasn't punishment. It was a lesson in respecting the tools of your trade whatever they are. It was a lesson in maintenance and of saying thank you to the device that extends your reach into the world. The rear cog was really dirty and I watched Dan's intensity and drive to get the job done. He showed no fatigue or boredom. Instead he transformed what I'd seen as a tedious and pointless process for a dirty old street bike into a ritual of cleansing and respect. He cared that I respected my bike.
We worked together on the balcony until the sun went down. By the time we had finished we had bonded in some inexplicable way. We ate dinner and Mom, who had expressed the view that Dan was turning into a maintenance Nazi, gave her grudging approval. Thenext day I rode to school and locked my bike up at the bike rack looked at the bike next to mine and thought, If Dan saw your bike, my friend! I looked at the bike on the other side. And you'd be in purgatory for a year, mate! All that grime and congealed oil and grease. You'd have to buy up all the boxes of paper-clips at CNA, not to mention all the Vim and all the toothbrushes in Joburg to clean your bike, my brother. The whole experience changed my relationship to the machine. I became close to that bike as much as one could be close to an inanimate object. I had invested time and effort in it and to me it seemed a new improved version of itself. I had bonded with my bike, I had personalised my relationship with it. It was a novel feeling and and I liked it. Later I would see the same relationship between a migrant and his care in keeping his fighting sticks in good order. I'd note the way he would wash the leather thongs on his dabuluzwane dancing sandals before a dance until they were white; and wash and comb his yellow cow's tail, or ishoba, that he strapped below his knee.”
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
This was one of the most beautifully written biographies I have read. Perhaps I’m biased because Johnny Clegg’s music was the soundtrack of my late teens, early 20’s. There are many interesting detours that branch off from the main story of Johnny’s life. As a consequence, I sometimes wanted some more detail about his life timeline.
Having gotten to know the music of Johnny Clegg, Juluka and Savuka during my time in South Africa; I wanted to know how Clegg became who he was and where his music came from. This book was able to provide me with that insight from his first hand accounts. The language is at times poetic and inspiring, as is his music and life story.
What a great story from a great man! This is an in depth and insightful story of his life with great attention to detail about his journey learning about the Zulu culture. A story to make you proudly South African. A must read for music and culture lovers.
This biography of one of my favourite musicians was my favourite book of all that I read in 2022. Or perhaps it was the year it was published, 2021. I’ll have to wait until I read it again before I can try do it justice in a review.
An intensely emotional recounting of Johnny Clegg’s childhood the early years with Juluka. The book offers a great insight into South African society through the sixties to the eighties. It is also an almost anthropological study of the Zulu culture and this white man’s fascination with it.
johnny clegg was a man of words and dance and this comes through here in what i can only be described as a lush autobiography, in terms of description and prose. elevates the music in a better way for me.