South African singer and civil rights activist
Her real name, as she clarifies in the 29 February 1960 issue of Time magazine is: Zensile Makeba Qgwashu Nguvama Yiketheli Nxgowa Bantana Balomzi Xa Ufnu Ubajabulisa Ubaphekeli Mbiza Yotshwala Sithi Xa Saku Qgiba Ukutja Sithathe Izitsha Sizi Khabe Singama Lawu Singama Qgwashu Singama Nqamla Nqgithi. "The reason for its length, " Ms. Makeba writes, "is that every child takes the first name of all his male ancestors. Often following the first name is a descriptive word or two, telling about the character of ther person, making a true African name somewhat like a story." (Letter reprinted in the 9 March 1998 issue of Time.)
American-born (with one Jamaican parent) folk singer/activist. Harry Belafonte first saw her in the independent film Come Back, Africa and arranged for both her U.S. concert debut and a recording contract with RCA Victor. An album they recorded together, "An Evening with Belefonte/Makeba" (RCA Victor: 1965), went on to win a Grammy for Best Traditional Folk Recording. Other U.S. albums, on RCA and Reprise, include "Miriam Makeba," "The Voice of Africa," "In Concert at Philharmonic Hall," and "Pata Pata." She was married to musician Hugh Masekela and activist Stokely Carmichael (later Kwame Ture).
First African woman to win a Grammy.
A Johannesburg club singer who became an important voice for the anti-apartheid struggle in South Africa, she paid a high price for her activism. While she was out of the country, the government revoked her passport, so she could not attend her mothers funeral.
She was a UN representative for Guinea, for which she was presented with the Dag Hammarskjld Peace Prize in 1986.
Mother of Sal Masekela.
Africa has her mysteries and even a wise man cannot understand them. But a wise man respects them.
Girls are the future mothers of our society, and it is important that we focus on their well-being.
I look at an ant and I see myself: a native South African, endowed by nature with a strength much greater than my size so I might cope with the weight of a racism that crushes my spirit.
In the mind, in the heart, I was always home. I always imagined, really, going back home. .
