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Tsepo Tshola departed this world at a difficult time when our beloved country is writing another chapter of tragedy in our turbulent history. Against this background his mission on earth becomes clearer. 

Indeed he was the one and only self-styled Village Pope, but he was the prince of peace as several of his songs, notably Stop The War, Madambadamba, Look To Thee and Boipatong (with Brenda Fassie) attest. 

They are anthems of unity, peace and harmony — cries for a better society underpinned by solid moral and ethical values. More than thirty years after they were recorded, they just mellow with time in terms of social relevance. 

They are timeless classics that continue to speak to our contemporary times. With the benefit of hindsight, compositions like House On Fire, Confusion And Pain and Obe now sound eerily like fulfilled prophetic testaments. 

Hopefully sooner than later the continent will heed the plea. After all, the message has always been a pan-African one. 

Following his passing, various media tributes have thrown in the predictable jazz and gospel labels. He was neither. It’s quintessentially African music but one that simply defied categories. 

His church upbringing is unmistakable in magical marvels like the autobiographical Papa, Shine Your Light and Holokile (dedicated to his deceased wife). 

But the story of Tsepo Tshola is also that of Sankomota, the mighty Lesotho ensemble which first exposed his awesome vocal expression to global audiences — thanks to Frank Leepa, his friend, Sankomota co-founder and leader who recruited him into the fold. 

 The Sankomota years were undoubtedly an important phase in his career — the period that witnessed the release of the band’s best music; songs that reflected both the ensemble’s poetic beauty and artistic integrity, not to mention socio-political relevance. Blessed with a soulfully rich, warm and gravelly voice, The Village Pope was destined to scale musical heights and attain fame far beyond the borders of his humble origins in the land of King Moshoeshoe. 

He was born Tshepo Mobu Tshola 67 years ago in Teyateyaneng — “a place of quick sands” commonly and affectionately referred to as TY by its 12 000-plus inhabitants. Situated 40km north-east of Maseru, the capital and close to the South African border, the town is also the birthplace of other notable Basotho like former prime minister, Ntsu Mokhehle. 

Both parents were in the church ministry — the father a preacher and the mother a prayer woman as well as chorister. 

It was an artistic family defined by church and choral music. The story goes that they met on the dance floor one evening in a concert hall and immediately hit it off. 

They went on to sing for a number of vocal ensembles including the Lesotho Vertical Eight, one of the popular at the time in the former British protectorate. 

In 1975 he was fresh out of school and singing with a vocal harmony ensemble named the Blue Diamonds when he met Frank Leepa one rainy evening in Maseru changed the course of his career. 

“We were stranded with nowhere to spend the evening,” the late Sankomota bandleader would later recall. “I wanted to smoke but I didn’t have a match. Tsepo had a light but he didn’t have a cigarette.” From that mutual sharing of a smoke emerged one of African music’s hottest and celebrated acts. 

At the time Leepa was a member of the Anti-Antiques, a band that in 1976 would evolve into Uhuru — a name that was borrowed from a Ghanaian highlife outfit that also performed as a resident band for President Kwame Nkrumah. 

A Swahili word for freedom or independence, they would soon run into trouble with South Africa authorities, thanks to their consciousness raising and pan-African music. 

They performed around Lesotho, Botswana and Swaziland. In 1978 they were booked to make twenty appearances but they only managed to play four concerts.  — Sowetan