Imbongi
Some readers may be wondering about the origin of my logo, and the word ‘imbongi’ that appears above my signature.
A few years ago—around the time I finished the second book in my ‘African Big 5 Series’ —I was browsing through my favorite bookstore in Bryanston, Johannesburg, when a title jumped out at me. (Every author knows the importance of an eye-catching cover and an irresistible title).
GG Alcock, author of ‘Born White, Zulu Bred’, was raised in a mud hut in one of the most poverty stricken and violent parts of KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa. Reading the back cover, I learned that GG’s activist parents had elected more earthy principles upon which to raise their two sons. There for the taking, but choosing rather to detach themselves from all apartheid-era privileges, Neil and Creina Alcock instead bestowed a far bigger legacy: they elected to raise their white-born sons in the ways of the Zulu. GG’s book ‘White Born, Zulu Bred’ is about being truly African, even as a white person, and explores the cultural challenges, the informal spaces and the future possibilities of South Africa.
As I read this, I knew I had to reach out to the author.
Encouraged by the success of my first conservation-themed book, ‘Manzovo-Place of the Elephants’, I set about writing a second wildlife story, this time about a leopard. (Africa’s famed ‘Big 5’ animals comprise the elephant, the leopard, the lion, the rhino and the buffalo).
Seeking to merge two important aspects of Zulu life—the history-changing Battle of Isandhlwana in 1879 with the time-honored traditions of culture and national ethos— ‘Izwi Lami–My Voice’ is a powerful window into the soul of the Zulu people. And who better to write the foreword than GG Alcock?
A few days after receiving my manuscript, GG sent me the following:
“Warriors and poets—warriors are poets—none more than Zulu warriors.
My brother and I were white born, but Zulu bred. As I read Gary Albyn’s warrior praise poetry in Izwi Lami, my memory took flight; it rose and flashed across time to my youth, crouched among the regiments of a Zulu king,
Majozi was the keeper of the sacred royal Mchunu praise songs. Zulu kings do not have a written history; instead, the praise songs are rhythmic, chanted renditions of history. While Majozi stood before the assembled regiments and called out the centuries-old praise song of the Mchunu, my brother and I crouched down among them, little barefoot white boys dreaming of one day becoming Zulu warriors. As he reached the end of each dynasty, Majozi would raise his fighting sticks and wildly giya—a frenzied whirling fight with an imaginary foe. The men uttered a single fierce roar of approval and smashed their sticks against their leather shields.
A warrior’s spirit is carried home by an impi. The warriors’ chant—along with the rhythmic thunder of sticks crashing against cowhide shields—keeps it company on its homeward journey. And the bellowing of a bull, slaughtered by the bare strong hands of a score of young warriors, will hasten the spirit to its final rest.
Gary is not a poet; he’s an imbongi—a warrior praise singer. Whilst urging the spirits of ever-present ancestor warriors to intercede with favour, the imbongi invokes deeds of daring and chivalry. As I read Izwi Lami, the voice I heard was not that of a poet but rather the deep primal sing-song voice of a traditional imbongi chanting the words of warriors and wild predators. I could hear the deep invocation of an assembled impi, intoning their approval. All that was missing was the smash of a thousand spear shafts against hardened leather shields—the rhythmic beat of a warrior pulse.”
High praise from GG, and indeed an honour to be called an imbongi.
Now, all I needed was my author’s logo.
Building on the Zulu theme, artist, graphic designer, businessman and marketer Tim Repsher set about designing my logo and augmenting my brand. Renowned for his subtle touches, he cleverly incorporated an elephant’s eye into the overall design.
Besides GG and Tim, the final product also owes its existence to the charitable inputs of the Smith family, whose late father’s story ‘Sovelele’ provided the kernel that inspired Izwi Lami. Also, my old school friend and professor of English, Dan Wylie, for allowing me to quote from his seminal work, ‘Myth of Iron: Shaka in History’. Lastly, the incomparable Fuz Caforio. Recently awarded title of Africa’s Wildlife Artist of the Year, Fuz’s remarkable paintings adorn the pages of ‘Izwi Lami—My Voice’, a privilege for which I am eternally grateful.