WHEN THE BROTHER MOVED ON

23 May 1986-10 November 2013

I stopped breathing the day I heard. That Nkulukelo Mthembu was no longer with us. It was simply not possible. Nkuli has passed away? Why are people so cruel to tell such lies? To hell with Social media. As the truth sunk in I could help but think of those closest to him. No! No! No! Oh my God Siya! Mbali! My heart started doing things I had never felt before, somersaults, thuds, shrieks – it was something between a panic and a heart-attack. I was alone in my flat and for the first time I couldn’t escape this one. I could not numb or avoid my feelings, the pain that took hold of me crept into my body like a cold winter’s breeze and clung to my bones – I immediately felt sick, dizzy. This time without choosing to I had to face the reality of death –stone cold sober. I had to feel the pain of losing someone, grasp the idea of never seeing them again without losing my mind, it was overwhelming. It was as if my heart would beat right out of my chest and fall flat on the floor like jelly.

On the 10th of November – the Sunday that Nkuli breathed for the last time, I was in tears. All day and I didn’t quite know why? Where this sorrow was coming from, what sadness is this? That Sunday as I walked up the wide streets of linden to see my brother peace, even the wind was silent. It was so quiet, I told my brother that something was strange.

You see, I don’t know if you have a brother – but Nkuli is one of my brothers. We met over ten years ago. He waited for Mbali and me, outside the SABC Head Quarters with his older brother Siya in their brown Beatle. I didn’t know it then, but the moment I got into that Beatle,

I was home.

I always admired Nkuli for having such a big heart – a heart made of Gold – jokes aside. Even before he shot to fame he was a true comedian, joker and a source of untold humour whenever we were together. With Nkuli, there was never a dull moment. Without trying he would speak his mind, and we’d all be on the floor laughing for days at his unique wit. With him around we could forget about whatever was troubling us, and just be in the moment. Whether we had money or not, a way or no way of going there he was always a source of strength.

Nkuli personified his name; Nkululeko – a name which means – Freedom. He was a free spirit, a free-thinker who literally danced to his own drum. But his endearing quality was his soft-heart. A kind and gentle soul, who cared deeply for his loved ones. He always used to comfort me and say don’t worry J, don’t mind him” each time Siya would start making fun of me, something I really didn’t like, because when Siya laughs at you it is seriously not funny at all. At first I didn’t understand why Siya would be on my case like that, I would cry sometimes. But I know now. Being the youngest we all made a show of “taking care” of Nkuli, but in truth he was the one taking care –of us. He was the one fighting for our spiritual freedom. The one who constantly challenged, confronted, and broke the chains of “normal” and “acceptable’. He was the one who made life seem easy, fun, and full of adventure and possibility.

Our long-standing joke with him back in the days when we were younger was his inability to pronounce the th- sound, always saying I fought instead of thought or fink instead of think. And boy did he fink…

The Brother Moves On

Artists and musician, he founded the Johannesburg Art music collective, The Brother Moves On, after he abandoned his studies at AFDA, with his older brother Siya Mthembu, cousin Zweli Mthembu, and Raytheon Moorvan. With his childhood friend BJ Engelbrecht, he formed an online production company called “No budget Productions” which is the official home for the Brother Moves On videos. In May this year he curated his first commercial exhibition entitled, “The brother breaks the Bullion” which was picked up by Business Day. His work was featured in the Guardian UK, The Telegraph UK, TeleRama France, RFI andThe Mail&Guardian to name a few. He spent much of 2013, travelling and performing in across the SADC region. Apart from being an artist he was a manager for his mother’s business in Tembisa.

The Golden Wake

I thought for sure my heart would stop, when the next morning after his funeral Siya asked me to help him carry the funeral paraphernalia back to the house. You see I didn’t make it to his funeral on Friday the 15th of November. I arrived long after his body had been laid to rest, when the white dresses and shirts were stained red with wine, whiskey and every other spirit, when feet were sore, and those who could still walk were dreaming of bed, and sleepwalking home. When all that could be drank was drunk. “Jedi, Nkush loves you” said Zweli to me with a smile so wide I was sure it was Nkuli saying it. I still wasn’t breathing because you see, a part of me was still waiting for him, I could see him in my mind’s eye, any minute now Nkuli was going to come waltzing in through those gates, with one hand in one pocket, saggy jeans, wearing his white-shirt, and waistcoat, head down, with his fast –hip-hop gait as if always on the look out for something. Damn. Siya opened the boot, stood back and said

Please Help Me with that

It hit me the minute I held those gold curtains close to my chest, the irony of it all. From the name of the band, The brother Moves On, pinned on the idea that each member of the band were an impermanent part of the process of creating – where it is the individual prerogative of each ‘brother’ to move on if he feels so inclined. To the Recording of the band’s first album The Golden Wake (EP) at the SABC’s radio park basement studios in 2011. The concept for the EP launch was based on a performance piece staging of a funeral of the character of Mr. Gold (Played by Siyabonga Mthembu). The story of Mr. Gold begins with a dream of his grandfather who tells Mr. Gold to journey to the city of Gold to “Mine his dreams”

I didn’t “see” Nkush that night (who was the bands costume designer, performance artist, and visuals person). But I heard sounds I had never heard before. Like deep calling unto deep; I hummed and sang along with them from under my breath with a depth I didn’t know I possessed. The Band reached into to my soul, with their eclectic fusion of sounds etched in the crevice of traditional, shamanic sounds that resurrect and resuscitate the ancestral spirit of the artist, long-gone and yet-to-be-born, while also maintaining a modern 21st century sound. InisiZulu the music can be summed up in one word: Ubungoma. That night I cried as if I was at a real funeral.

The last time I saw Nkuli was a perfectly beautiful summer’s day, on one of those rare occasions when the Brother Moves On was not performing. He said to me, “today feels like old times j” as we walked aimlessly down Fox street on Johannesburg’s Maboneng district.” It reminds me of that time we went to Cape-Town together, you Mbali, Siya and me”. In hindsight, I think it may have been his way of saying –

I miss you.

In pursuit of progress, security, happiness, meaning or something along those lines; I had forgotten that it was not about fame, status, or about people liking you, or about money, about clothes, about social status. It’s about love. Love means being true to yourself, discovering, living and fulfilling your life’ purpose to the very best of your ability. At 27 Nkululeko had accomplished what many artists today can only fantasize about, the passionate pursuit of purpose and fulfillment with no budget. Thank you for being a light in our darkness and answering the call to be the person only you could be. Nkululeko Mpumelelo Mthembu.

Burnslow Nkuli…

I’m sorry. I just won’t say goodbye.

#culturetheafrican