By Fidelis Manyange

IT is now 22 years since the departure of the legendary Leonard Dembo.
After battling with a long illness, on April 9 1996, the maestro, yet to be matched in composition and guitar playing skills, departed the stage of the living for the yonder world.
Musorowenyoka, as he was affectionately known by his legion of fans, churned hit album after album.
Kuziva Mbuya Huudzwa, Nhamo Moto, Ruva Rashe, Tinokumbira Kurarama, Chitekete and Mazano are some that very quickly come to mind.
Though it has been two decades, his music continues to appeal to many sungura lovers locally and beyond our borders.
I first witnessed Dembo’s magic at a live show at Kadoma’s Grand Hotel in 1993. I was a boy just out of secondary school, waiting for ‘O’-Level results.
His performance was my first encounter with a live band and it was a surreal moment.
Until then, I had interacted with this wizard of music on my favourite radio channel, the then Radio 2, now Radio Zimbabwe.
The Mazano hitmaker was clad in an all black outfit; he stood on the stage a giant, with no feet of clay but made of gold from toe to head.
His partially opened shirt collar revealed the traditional cloth or jira reretso, typically associated with the great African hunters, wound around his neck.
It added to his mystery.
I would come to know that, at that point in his career, he was a firm believer in ancestral spirits and the supernatural.
His right hand which manipulated the lead guitar in a manner that a few, if any, have equalled (only Tongai Moyo came close in imitation), was full of the ‘black-power’ wrist bands.
At times this genius had problems relating with fans.
It seems he was not interested in being a celebrity; all he cared for was the music.
And he was not interested in the ‘perks’ that come with being a star.
At this particular show I attended, I witnessed women removing their undergarments and writing their addresses on them before throwing them at the superstar.
And he would have none of it!
In a classic response he belted out the lyrics: “Hakuna anomanikidzwa kuda waasingade….”
The unfavourable and unwelcoming response riled the ladies who hailed obscenities at him.
And Dembo again burst into the lyrics: “Unoda kuti ndiite zvaunoda iwe….”(by then the song had not yet been recorded).
At one show where he shared the stage with Nicholas Zakaria, his fans didn’t want him to leave after his set and they blocked his way to his Toyota Cressida.
And he did what no other star, at least in this country, did.
Dembo produced a pistol and fired into the air, sending the crowd scurrying for cover.
He was quickly apprehended by the police, cautioned and released.
And at one time he beat up a fan who had called him Musorowenyoka. Initially, he found the nickname, which came about as a result of the shape of his bald head, derogatory and unpalatable.
Most of the musician’s compositions were influenced by his personal life.
It is said the musician’s mother was not in good books with his wife, mai vaMorgan, as she wanted him to marry a girl of her choice.
This is cited as the force behind the hit ‘Vamwene nemuroora’ in which he sang: “Vamwene nemuroora ndapota pindai mese vhuserere….”
Musorowenyoka strongly believed in the power of witchcraft to the extent that he did not want anyone to film him or photograph him on stage.
Pity on anyone who would be caught filming or photographing him; he would abandon the stage and confront the ‘culprit’.
He did not even shoot musical videos; “Aiti vavengi vanozondibaya netsono pascreen,” said his longtime friend and manager Raphael Makwiramiti.
The video Sharai was an impromptu production shot at Gramma Records.
After recording, while they were relaxing, the producers duped them by saying: “Vakomana imbotambai Sharai tione,” that is how they managed to come up with the video of Sharai, with Dembo none the wiser.
He would never play at a venue, especially where Simon Chimbetu and John Chibadura had recently played.
He believed they were zvigure or zvinyau zvinoroya; he viewed them as possessing ‘strong magic’ that could affect his musical skills.
At one time, they were supposed to play in Chitungwiza when Dembo noticed a Chibadura poster from a recent show at the venue, he instructed his band to pack up the instruments and they left.
The manager had to lie to the fans that Dembo had suddenly fallen ill.
It is said before the release of any of his albums, he would summon his mother from Chirumanzu to brew traditional beer and make an offering to his ancestors.
So strong was his belief in the supernatural that he contracted a builder from Chipinge to build his Belvedere house — the house had to be spiritually fortified.
Dembo had only two friends in his adult life; his close confidant and manager Raphael Makwiramiti and fellow musician Mitchell Jambo.
And it is only Jambo whom he agreed to have a collaboration with.
He helped Jambo on his song ‘Rudo Runokosha’ by contributing the lyrics: “Ndingafare seiko pasina anondida…”
The maestro also had poor relations with journalists both from print and electronic; even presenters who played his music were not spared.
Radio presenter Eric Knight was once embarrassed by Dembo. Knight, on noticing the musician, shouted greetings to him only for Dembo to respond: “Kana ukasaridza nziyo dzangu dzinongotengwa zvakadaro.”
He was among musicians who made investments and did not blow his earnings in the fast lane.
He bought a house in Chitungwiza and built another in Belvedere.
After leaving the Gramma stable for RTP, he released another monster hit Mazano and with its proceeds bought elders from his rural home 15 bicycles and a television set for the man who employed him as a herd boy for a long time.
When he was not on stage, Dembo used to fly with his manager Makwiramiti to Bulawayo or South Africa.
He once visited the late South African reggae artiste Lucky Dube and the king of Shangani disco, Peta Teanet, in Tzaneen, South Africa, to take notes on how they ran their music businesses.
Dembo was a larger than life character. At just 35, he departed, but he had made a permanent mark on the music landscape.