DJ Mahoota: The rise of ‘Come Duze’ and the intersection of music and politics in South Africa

Artists’ alignment has evolved since 1994, reflecting changing dynamics in politics

It is 10 seconds long and the words “mood till further notice” are emblazoned across the screen. In this TikTok video, a middle-aged man in a new edition ANC T-shirt dances like a sexy young buck — drink in the left hand, right arm sweeping to and fro across his stomach — then he licks his thumbs all suggestively. The song playing over the video is Come Duze. 

And the video has gone viral — it is one of the biggest songs in the country right now, days before the national elections on 29 May.

“I just made a song for the people,” explains Zynne Sibika, the veteran dance DJ popularly known as Mahoota. 

“Young people took that song and made it theirs; we did not have to do anything but make the song.” 

DJ Mahoota is, of course, talking about Come Duze.

“We released the song in December and nothing happened with the single, until that guy danced to it,” the 61-year-old song-and-dance man says.  

On further investigation, DJ Mahoota discovered our ANC guy was not actually dancing to Come Duze — someone used the song in the TikTok video and synced the moves to it, making it seem as though he was.  

And that, folks, is the power — and danger — of social media. 

“I think Come Duze is a culmination of many things. It’s a culmination of the youth taking up space in the entertainment industry,” says Mahoota. “They choose it all — their favourite verse in a song and the dance that will go with it.”

It has become a TikTok dance challenge and has taken off big time.

Mahoota, who has been in the game for more than two decades, continues to be relevant. He was the founding member of the Kwaito group Trompies. In 2001, he would pursue a solo career alongside his musical partner Jotham Mbuyisa, known as Vetkuk, becoming massively popular.

Back to the guy in the ANC shirt.Mahoota says they were a bit worried that their song was being associated with the ruling party. 

“We were nervous at first but we quickly picked up that the song was used by everyone. It is used by the ANC, it is used by the EFF, it is used by uMkhonto weSizwe people. Because it is the song of the people, we don’t have a say anymore, basically,” he says. 

“This all just happened organically; it does not need us to say we are affiliated with the ANC, the EFF, or DA. They have just made the song their own. 

“Am I nervous that it is being associated with a certain political party? Not anymore, because the song organically became a South African song,” he says.  

In earlier elections in democratic South Africa, back when the word “viral” was still used to describe an infection, this would not have been the case. 

In the 1994 and 1999 polls, many artists were staunch supporters of certain political parties and they were not afraid to show it.

But that goes even further back to the 1950s and 1960s, when some progressive musicians had to go into exile because of their close association with liberation organisations, especially when they were banned in the early 1960s. 

Artists such as Hugh Masekela, Miriam Makeba, Jonas Gwangwa and the Blue Notes worked closely with the ANC in exile, using music as a tool for resistance and mobilisation.

During the 1980s, Abdullah Ibrahim’s famous, anthemic track Mannenberg was closely linked to the United Democratic Front (UDF) and was played at many of its rallies.

From the 1994 election onwards, political rallies in South Africa have served as platforms, not only for political discourse, but also for artistic expression. 

From iconic struggle songs to stirring performances by renowned artists, these rallies have been infused with the vibrancy of South Africa’s cultural landscape.

Songs such as Nelson Mandela by Sipho “Hotstix” Mabuse, which was commissioned by the ANC for the party’s 1994 election campaign, have been used to amplify the message of a free and democratic South Africa. 

More recently  

In more recent times, artists have continued to feature prominently at political gatherings, lending their talents to amplify the messages of various parties.

Think back to 1999 when there was even an ANC remix of Brenda Fassie’s megahit Vul’indlela, with an earnest former president Thabo Mbeki speaking over the famous opening keyboard riff.

And during the same election when the then Democratic Party leader Tony Leon did those awkward dance steps to Mandoza’s Nkalakatha, which was associated with the white manager dude after a few beers at the year-end function.

His successor Helen Zille went “hold my Chardonnay” with her on-stage jiving in 2011. Her OTT steps pushed the cringe-meter into the red, instead of her party’s blue. 

The moves had Julius Malema, who was then leader of the ANC’s youth league, rather unkindly accusing her of dancing “like a monkey” in an attempt to get votes.

These kinds of performances are now firmly established as part of the political theatre ahead of elections.

But there is a difference. In the past, artists would unapologetically align themselves with a certain political party, but in recent times, artists go where they are called and there are several reasons for this.

“The idea of political parties using artists serves their ideological mission and that’s what we had under apartheid,” explains Adam Haupt, who is the director of the Centre for Film and Media Studies at the University of Cape Town. “A certain set of artists would be used to sort of sell an idea of South Africa.”

Haupt says that went on through the nineties, when many artists were comrades who supported the struggle against apartheid. So, when they made music, it was not in service of the aims of a specific political party, it was about the fight for liberation — even post-apartheid. 

“Those were two different ways in which artists existed under apartheid, and by the time we got to 1994, a lot of those artists/activists were happy to share the stage with the liberation party that was now becoming a political party,” he says.

And on 29 May?

We are days away from the polls and the arts editor has been on my case to get comment from the three biggest parties — the ANC, Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF) and DA — about who will be doing the performances at their final pre-election rallies this weekend.

We would have added such comment, however, after contacting them, the ANC ignored me, the EFF fed me a plate of promises and the DA sent a press release with just one of my questions answered.  

They must have their hands full and no time for arts reporters. 

However, it would have been interesting to know what the criteria are for choosing artists to perform at their final rallies. 

Veteran political comms specialist Chris Vick offered some thoughts. 

“The phenomenon of using musicians to attract and entertain political crowds is not a new one — one of the most impactful local examples was the ‘people’s festivals’ organised by the UDF in the late 1980s at places like Fun Valley, south of Johannesburg,” Vick says. 

“They were used to attract both activists and music fans, in the hope that once music fans had been drawn to the venue by the promise of good music, they’d also be open to a little political persuasion.”

He says the ANC continued that tradition after its unbanning. Artists who showed allegiance to the party, such as Masekela, Mzwakhe Mbuli, Yvonne Chaka Chaka and Mafikizolo performed at ANC rallies.  

“These days, though, the need for alignment between politics and the musical message seems to have become less of an issue and it’s now about who is likely to be the biggest drawcard and create a vibe,” he says. 

Here is an example. 

The uMkhonto weSizwe party held a rally at Orlando Stadium in Soweto last Saturday. It had musicians performing, as well as their most famous entertainer (and much more besides), Jacob Zuma. 

One of the artists on stage was rapper Big Zulu. He will also be at the DA’s final rally on Sunday, 26 May at the Willowmoore Stadium in Gauteng. 

“What that indicates is that, for some musicians, the primary loyalty may be to doing a public performance rather than aligning with a political brand — and you can’t blame them for that,” says Vick. 

It is difficult for musicians to have loyalty toward a political party when the reality is they receive 

very little support from the government. They take whatever is available to keep the lights on and the arts alive.  

“The appearance of musicians at political rallies is generally because of a financial conviction, rather than a political belief,” agrees Vick. 

“It works both ways — politicians get exposure because of the musicians and the musicians get exposure and some money in the bank. 

“There are exceptions but musicians need to earn a living, whether it’s performing at Konka or at a Siyanqoba rally at FNB. 

“And election season can be a good way to pay the bills,” he adds.