The Sound of History
How Anesu Ndoro ’21 is amplifying the music of the Ndau people.
While studying anthropology at Reed at the peak of the pandemic, Anesu Ndoro ’21 was disturbed by a peculiar phenomenon: unusually aggressive “missed connection” notices, posted by people attempting to fill the social void created by COVID-19.
“I think people were confused, just about what the state of the world was,” Anesu says. “This was happening after the 2020 protests around George Floyd’s death. I think a lot of people didn’t know what was going on—or didn’t have the ‘right language’ to describe what was going on.”
Rather than contribute to the cacophony, Anesu co-founded Honest Connections, a podcast created to connect isolated Reedies. “It is possible to just ask questions and not lead with assumptions about people,” he says. “At least in the time that we did [the podcast], we felt like it was something productive to do with our time, rather than just sit and be upset at the fact that no one was really listening to each other.”
Since returning to Zimbabwe, his home country, Anesu has continued to act on his instinct to connect communities through sound. Currently, however, he is focused not on podcasting, but on preserving the music of the Ndau people, who are indigenous to Zimbabwe and Mozambique.
“You start playing [Ndau string and wind instruments] and some older people will be like, ‘Oh, I last saw that when my grandfather was playing it in the 1940s or ’50s or even ’30s,’” Anesu says. “You really have to go to the more remote, rural areas—and even then, it might be one or two people who know how to play this thing or that thing.”
Throughout history, the Ndau have been brutalized by oppressors, including European settlers and missionaries. While these invaders forced the Ndau onto reservations, they failed to extinguish Ngoma dzaVaNdau (the music of the Ndau people).
Fans of Ndau music treasure the singular sonic landscape it creates, using double-headed drums (similar to congas) and a six-note scale—which, to the uninitiated, sounds strikingly different from the more common five- and seven-note scales.
“If a person comes from another tradition, you can follow what’s going on, but [Ndau music] feels like a person who’s walking and then they skip, but those skips can be a little unpredictable,” Anesu says. It is an unpredictability he’s nurturing in collaboration with Music is Culture (see page 21) and Solomon Madhinga, one of the last living master builders and players of Ndau instruments.
By working with Madhinga to create a building guide for Ndau instruments, documenting repertoires, and hosting music workshops, Anesu hopes to sustain existing traditions and inspire future generations of Ndau musicians (the music they document will be released by Music is Culture).
In this process, Anesu stresses that Solomon Madhinga continues to be a driving force. “Mostly, I feel like I’m helping facilitate something that’s happening—that Solomon is actually the person doing most of the contribution," Anesu says. "I mean, we’re showing up with recording equipment and laptops and whatnot, but that’s not the thing of value.”
As always for Anesu, the greatest value lies in honest connections—and the sounds that make them possible.
Tags: Alumni, Books, Film, Music, Diversity/Equity/Inclusion, International, Performing Arts