Dear Soul “Soul Jah Love” Musaka
I hope this epistle finds you alive and well after the reported road accident you got involved in on your way to the mining town of Kwekwe last weekend.
It was indeed a new addition to the countless misfortunes that have befallen you over the past few years and it really got everyone, particularly those interested in Zimdancehall music, worried about you.
This is so despite the disturbing yet unconfirmed reports that you were yet again heavily intoxicated when the accident took place and subsequently refused to go for a hospital check-up.
Unverified, but believable, and this is why I write to you today, Soul.
The mysterious ways you have escaped outright tragedy in the recent past indeed confirm that you are a lucky man “Mwana waStembeni”, but what will happen when that luck runs out one day?
Over the years I have wondered what kind of man can be so talented and yet so reckless in the same breath yet I guess Greek philosopher Aristotle’s words that: “There is no great genius without some touch of madness” fits perfectly in explaining your persona.
However, I will dare say that all your drama gets tiring and emotionally draining sometimes for those who genuinely care about you, it really does, Soul.
Even your arch-rival of many years, Seh Calaz, recently took to social media to wish you well and that speaks volumes of the hazard you have become to yourself.
Imagine hearing one day that you have somewhat seen the light and repented from your hasty ways today but a week later you are caught again in the midst of the same ruckus.
One gets the feeling that it is all an act, a big fat ploy to revive waning inspiration and, therefore, an insincere appeal to the consciences of a well-meaning followership that gives a hoot about you.
It’s blatant emotional abuse.
Your fans are caught in between appreciating your striking lyricism, sympathising with what’s left of your compelling rag-to-riches story and an unwarranted self-destructive character.
All of this chaos is compounded by the fact that we have heard you asking to be left alone in some of your blunt refusals to take advice.
If words from your endless list of former managers, including ex-wife Bounty Lisa, are anything to go by, then you are arrogant and that has worked against you in different aspects of your life.
Why do you refuse to take good advice? Do you not think it’s time to go through an honest therapy process to put an end to this extensive suffering?
While I would normally “mind my hokoso” (business) — as you habitually advise — because after all it’s showbiz and in this era trending for whatever reason is good for brand growth, yours, “Sauro”, is a unique story posing direct danger to your very existence.
There are those who celebrate as you head, at full speed, in the wrong direction as you aptly noted in your latest hit single Kana Ndafa, but the opposite is the reason why I penned this letter.
I would have recommended you listen to more reproachful lyrics scattered in your rich discography, but you have since ceased to strike me as one who practices what they preach.
You are indeed a wordsmith of unparalleled competences, but for how long will you use your expertise on the microphone to rationalise mischief?
Now, before you claim that you are being judged by people who do not know you or the struggles you face, I will hasten to remind you that, over the years, you have painted a vivid picture of your life through music.
Thanks to your lucidity, we all know your past, present and future aspirations although some details are lost when your wild spontaneity kicks in.
They say life has no formula in these streets, I am well aware of that, and I cannot claim to have it figured out too, but after three decades of life you should know as well as do better.
If not for yourself, do it for the deprived ghetto youths who, through you, had started believing that one can literally come from the dusty city streets to live comfortably ever after.
This rash conduct that has seen your health deteriorate while your riches deplete is definitely a path that will only lead to more tears for you and your vast fan base.
You may have a perfect response for this letter, perhaps in the mould of a stinging song like Vanoda Kundisvibisa that you released in 2015, but before that I implore you to reflect on your life and the dreams you had before you became famous.
I beseech you to spill the chalice of intoxicants and revisit the real Soul Musaka whose stupor was a passion to climb the success ladder and a dream to lead a meaningful life.