BULAWAYO, Zimbabwe -- The crowd at the Large City Hall here had become a sweaty, tipsy, swaying throng by the time Oliver Mtukudzi played his most controversial song, "Wasakara." As he sang in his native Shona, "Admit it, you are wrinkled. . . . You are worn out," several members of the crowd pointed upward.
There, above the stage, hung a framed portrait of a man wearing a dark suit, with the narrow wisp of a mustache running from his lip to his nose. The picture -- the same one found in hotel lobbies, car rental agencies and government offices throughout Zimbabwe -- was of 80-year-old Robert Mugabe, the only ruler this southern African nation has known.
Zimbabwean musician Oliver Mtukudzi, shown on stage with Bonnie Raitt in New Orleans, disputes the notion that one of his songs is a criticism of President Robert Mugabe.
(2002 Photo David Rae Morris -- Reuters)
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Such gestures are among the few public protests Zimbabweans still make after years of repression under Mugabe.
During the fight against white-minority rule in Rhodesia, which culminated in the creation of independent Zimbabwe in 1980, musicians such as Mtukudzi and Thomas Mapfumo provided the soundtrack. But more than two decades later, Mugabe's government keeps far tighter control over political expression -- including music -- than Rhodesia ever did.
Zimbabwean musicians say they rarely can get protest songs recorded. When they do, the songs are almost never played on radio stations, all of which are owned by the government.
Mtukudzi's music gets airplay, but he has repeatedly disavowed the widespread interpretation of "Wasakara," which translates to English as "You are worn out." He says his songs are based on timeless themes and are not about particular people or events. "Wasakara," he says, is about growing old and the wisdom that comes from experience.
But he doesn't begrudge his fans for interpreting a song however they choose. He plays "Wasakara" at almost every public performance.
"All my songs work yesterday, today and tomorrow," Mtukudzi said in an interview. "My definition of a good song is a song that the next person is able to use."
Mapfumo is far more outspoken, but does most of his talking from the United States, where he moved in 2000 because, he said, it was no longer safe for him or his family in Zimbabwe. He returns for performances each Christmas, but his political songs are rarely played on the radio -- a problem he didn't face when the Rhodesian government owned the stations.
"It was easier in those days," Mapfumo said in a telephone interview from his home in Oregon. "Today we have a black government and . . . it's even worse. It's very irritating. You are trying to tell the people the truth, what is happening in their country, and somebody is trying to shut you down."
The muting of protest music comes as Zimbabwe's economy is shrinking, hunger is widespread, the rate of HIV infection is among the world's highest and opposition leaders are frequently harassed by the government.
The airwaves, meanwhile, are filled with endless hours of propaganda songs extolling the virtues of Mugabe and his ruling party, the Zimbabwe African National Union-Patriotic Front.
In one song receiving heavy play, pro-government singer Tambaoga complains about British Prime Minister Tony Blair's supposed attempts to reestablish Zimbabwe as a colony, a favorite theme in Mugabe's speeches. The twist is that the word "blair" in Zimbabwe also refers to the crude pit latrines common in rural areas across the country.
Tambaoga switches out of Shona to sing the punch line in English: "The only Blair that I know is a toilet."
