Halfway through my interview with Thandiswa Mazwai, she tells me about a tattoo she has on her chest. It’s a combination of symbols she found in the late Credo Mutwa’s book Indaba, my children.
On the first page of the book are over a hundred symbols representing everything from “Animal will eat you” to “Enemies around the corner.” But there were four in particular that stood out for her.
“I put those four symbols on my chest and I made myself a kind of sentence out of them,” she says.
The sentence reads: “We speak for future generations.”
“What that represents to me,” she explains, “is that in this time that I am alive, I am in the process of making history. I’m in the process of making and creating culture. I’m in the process of archiving, of preserving, of inventing. This is what I’m doing while I’m here. And the generations before me did that too. And what happens is that in my time, I refer to what my past generations have done as the blueprint. I say, this is our culture. We do it all the time.”
This commitment to legacy, to responsibility, and to continuity sits at the core of Mazwai’s artistry, and it has never been more palpable than as she approaches two monumental milestones: her 50th birthday and 30 years in the music industry.
These are rarified achievements, particularly in an entertainment landscape as volatile and fast-moving as South Africa’s. Many of her contemporaries, the bright young artists who shaped the early post-apartheid music scene, did not make it to this point.
“So, some of my dearest friends in the music industry didn’t make it to 50,” Mazwai tells me. “I don’t know if Brenda Fassie made it to 50.”
“Brenda was only 39,” I remind her.
“Yeah,” she says, a trace of sadness in her voice, “she was very young when she passed away, some of the greats really just kind of slipped away.
“It’s almost unbelievable for me. I almost feel like the kids that made Kwaito, they don’t grow up. We never thought that we would ever grow up. You know, we kind of still dress the same way we used to dress back then. I’m still wearing my Converse sneakers, still in a T-shirt, still in a long skirt or long dress. I’m still kind of the same girl, you know?”
Her reflection captures an artist’s paradox: time moves relentlessly forward, yet the essence of creativity retains a childlike constancy. Even as they age, great artists hold on to that moment when music was simply a form of play. That early, unburdened joy remains central to her artistic identity.
“I think it’s more about holding on to the moment when being creative was something that had no burden to it. You were yet to find out who you would become, what impact your work would have. I at least hold on to that person in the Kwaito years, because that’s the childlike thing in me. That’s the part of me that’s able to create, able to play around with things, throw paint on a canvas, and see what comes out.”
That childlike spark has matured into a profound understanding of music as a tool for connection, healing, and social commentary. Music has always been Mazwai’s primary language. From singing in church and performing for her parents to her earliest days in the industry and keeping a diary filled with lyrics and melodies. Now, decades later, that language has deepened in purpose and scope.
“I’ve now become aware that I’m not just a girl with a voice,” she says. “I’ve become a part of a thread throughout time. I’m part of the singing, part of the song that my great-grandparents used to sing. The struggle, the joy, the happiness, the rage, all of that. I’m continuing the lineage of using our voices.”
This awareness informs the Sankofa Heritage Festival, the landmark event she is launching to commemorate her dual milestones. Scheduled for February 28, 2026, at Carnival City, east of Johannesburg, the festival is a celebration of music, heritage, and legacy, headlined by Mazwai herself alongside a curated selection of collaborators across generations and African genres.
The name Sankofa is deliberate. “It means to go back and fetch,” she says. “There is a sense of homecoming in this word, about saying, let’s come together to reconnect, to sing together, to see what new cultures and new heritages we can develop.” Culture, she explains, is a living practice, something we do every day as a collective.
“Before, there was a culture of Ubuntu; maybe now there’s a culture of violence. The culture shifts depending on what we in the present time are doing together. So for me, the Sankofa Music Fest is about calling on my people, my friends, my community, to foster love, healing, and progress. Her curation is anchored in the deep, visceral pulse of African music: the drum.
“The drum is the main character of the festival. Beyond language and geography, indigenous instruments speak directly to the soul of a human being. They connect us to our past, and they open portals to the future. The drum ignites my being, it makes me express myself fully, physically. It’s a visceral instrument.”
The Sankofa Heritage Festival is as much about performance as it is about participation. Mazwai envisions audiences actively engaging in the creation of instruments, in the rhythms and movements that connect African communities across generations. “We are going to make drums. Some of the activities will happen before the actual festival day. People will be involved. We want this to be immersive, not passive.”
This emphasis on participation mirrors her philosophy of art as both provocation and healing.
Her song Emini, which serendipitously became relevant in South Africa’s 2024 election year despite having been written in 2021, illustrates her approach.
“In the studio, I place a spark of provocation in the music,” she explains. “Then, in front of an audience, it can turn into fire. I provoke us into fury, into joy, into reflection. Art has to provoke and to heal, to open up minds to what is possible.”
Her chest tattoo, the symbols from Mutwa, serves as a daily reminder: the work she does is for future generations, for a lineage of voices that stretches back centuries.
Every song, every performance, every curated festival is an act of cultural continuity, a means of shaping the society her children and their children will inherit.
For Mazwai, music is inseparable from her role as a custodian of heritage. She emphasises that culture is not static, that innovation is part of the continuum.
“Amapiano is part of South African heritage,” she says. “Heritage is not just something in a village. It’s in Johannesburg, in your township. It’s everywhere we are. When young people reinvent traditional clothing or patterns, that’s heritage too. Heritage is living, breathing, and current.”
And so the Sankofa Heritage Festival is as much about preservation as it is about progression. Beyond music, it aims to foster mentorship, collaboration, and the development of community. Emerging artists will be given platforms to perform, to learn, and to experience the full spectrum of being a professional artist.
Designers, makeup artists, and other creatives adjacent to the music industry will also find opportunity and visibility.
“This festival is about growing a community,” she says. “A community about celebration, about heritage, about love, about future generations, about preservation and innovation. If we, as cultural practitioners, collaborate and mentor young people, we can create a culture of love, transformation, peace, imagination, joy, and healing. Then we can use our voices collectively to change our futures.”
Mazwai’s outlook on responsibility extends to social consciousness, too. Her songs challenge excess, critique inequality, and spark reflection on what it means to be African today. She reflects on the disparities in South Africa, where extreme wealth coexists with rampant poverty, and uses her music to ignite these conversations.
“I use my work to provoke conversations about whatever is burning at the time. But an issue that continuously burns is: Who are we? Who do we belong to? What does it mean to be African now?” Like the provocation of her classic song Nizalwa Ngobani?
Yet, despite the weight of history and responsibility, Mazwai insists on joy and bodily expression as central to her work. Dance, movement, celebration: these are integral to her performances and the festival experience.
Traditional dances, she notes, are deeply physical, an articulation of culture through the body. The Sankofa Heritage Festival invites attendees to “come in all their splendour… come as you are, represent who you feel you are at your best.”
As she approaches her 50th year, Thandiswa Mazwai is neither nostalgic nor complacent. She is a force of continuity and change, of preservation and innovation. She understands that the work of an artist is not merely to entertain, but to provoke, to heal, to archive, to envision futures.
Through the Sankofa Heritage Festival, she is creating a space where these imperatives intersect: a festival that celebrates music, nurtures heritage, and invests in generations to come.
Tickets for the Sankofa Heritage Festival are now available on Computicket
Thandiswa Mazwai celebrates 50 years and 30 years in music with the Sankofa Heritage Festival, blending heritage, innovation, and generational continuity
