My obsession with "Guerrilheiro" made the song a compelling window into Angola's struggle for independence, a topic I knew little about previously. Unfortunately, this window afforded a very narrow view: my sympathy for anti-colonial movements combined with a lack of accurate information on Angola in the '70s helped me invent a mythology that grossly oversimplified the complex nature of the fight against Portugal and the following civil war. This essay seeks to better understand the meaning of "Guerillheiro" against the background in which it was created, as well as look into the life and tragic death of a talented artist.
This, the guerrilla who spends his time in the forest
There in the forest of Mayombe
There in the zone of the East
Where it rains every day
Where there are many mosquitoes
Where the insects can not be counted
We sometimes go hungry
To free our people, this the price of revolution - translation by paparazzoAngolano
Little romance lives in this stark portrait of an Angolan revolutionary. David Zé's words strip away aggrandizing slogans, listing instead the daily hardships endured by those living in resistance: boredom, hunger, isolation, malaise. The guerrillas we see are not some storied warriors waging a glorious revolution, but common men whose only asset to the struggle may be a willingness to sacrifice the comforts of home and family. An unflattering picture, perhaps, but one that is human and powerful. We never doubt the grim resolve of the narrator, even as we recognize the ultimate "price of revolution" though it goes unspoken.
While the lyrics are smeared with almost tangible grit, the music of "Guerrilheiro" is unearthly. Conjunto Merengue's rhythm section is barely present, not so much building a groove as fading into the background: the bass trudges along grimly, hardly bothering to change notes. An organ whistles a rising three chord vamp that seems to float in and out of the mix. The lazy pulse of some modest hand percussion steps all over a shy rhythm guitarist. Picking at the melody uneasily, the lead guitarist soon grows restless, bending the riff in every direction, uninterested in repeating the same pattern twice. On the microphone, Zé sings pleadingly, sounding almost as if he's worried that no one will hear him. But at last, the other men raise their weary voices to join him in a somber chorus that seems to echo across the entire nation.
Such a compelling introduction might tempt the listener to envision the singer clad in sweaty combat fatigues, rifle at his feet, strumming a beat-up guitar to a ragged crew of Angolan soldiers on a dusty savannah. In fact, that's exactly how I wanted to picture David Zé: a folk hero, part Woody Gutherie and part Che Guevara. However, as with the lyrics of "Guerrilheiro", the details of David Zé's life paint a less dramatic picture: born in 1944 in Kifangondo, a small town near Luanda, he began singing as a member of his church choir. While working as a teacher, Zé released his first single in 1966. He was a member of the People's Movement for the Liberation of Angola (MPLA), a Marxist independence campaign, and would eventually rise to serve as the music director for "Aliança FAPLA-POVO", the group's military orchestra. His recording career stretched over 14 singles and one full length, a musical legacy that looms heavily over Angolan music to this day. A dedication to the MPLA is written explicitly into many of his songs, and while it might be poetic to place David Zé at the frontline of the struggle against Portugal, it's difficult to believe that a popular singer who traveled at the side of Augustino Neto, the first president of Angola, was also spending time in the trenches with the party's soldiers.
Augustino Neto and Fidel Castro in Cuba
While a handful of facts does little to illuminate, this bare sketch is the only biography of David Zé I could find, and considering that his homeland was a combat zone for over four decades, it almost seems generous. Following the long struggle for independence from Portugal, Angola exploded into a vicious civil war between the MPLA and two rival liberation forces: the National Liberation Front of Angola (FNLA) and the National Union for the Total Independence of Angola (UNITA). Roughly a third of Angola's population would be displaced by a conflict infamous for civilian casualties, child soldiers, and landmines. Foreign journalists viewed the country as a deathtrap, reducing outside perspective on the war to vague Associated Press blurbs and United Nations reports. Hoping to unearth the story of one man from the wreckage of an entire country is delusional. Were it not for his music, David Zé would be another forgotten name in a forgotten grave. He died on May 27, 1977, a year and a half after the MPLA declared Angola's first independence day.
Yet this final detail of David Zé's life casts an even deeper shadow: May 27 was the date of the Nitista Uprising against the MPLA government, an event shrouded in confusion and violence. According to the MPLA, the uprising was a coup d'etat initiated by traitorous factions within the government, and led by the charismatic Nito Alves, the movement's namesake and the MPLA's Interior Minister. The Nitistas argued that their actions on May 27 were merely a popular demonstration meant to prod President Neto away from moderate policies and back to the MPLA's Marxist roots. Amid the melee fly accusations of diamond smuggling, racism, and secret deals with foreign nations. Both sides may hold a portion of the larger truth, yet one point is inarguable. The MPLA repressed the uprising with brutal force.
Nito Alves
In the wake of May 27, as many as tens of thousands were killed, though a precise number will never be counted. Those marching to the center of Luanda with the Nitistas were stopped with bullets, many fired by Cuban forces allied with the MPLA. Tanks surrounded the Sambizanga neighborhood of Luanda, home to Alves and many of his allies, while troops entered and began shooting civilians indiscriminately. In the months that followed, tens of thousands of suspected Nitistas were arrested and tried in secret courts. Those found guilty were left in unmarked graves. Amid this hysteria and violence, David Zé was killed, almost certainly at the hands of his own political party.
Cuban Soldiers Training MPLA Forces
Zé was not the only musician killed on May 27. Urbano de Castro and Artur Nunes, both famous singers, were also victims of the MPLA repression, alongside other artists and intellectuals. Some speculate that the three men must have been involved in the uprising, but the MPLA's motives could have been even more calculated. Intonations, Marissa J. Moorman's excellent book on Angolan music, opens with musician Teta Lando arguing that the three singers were killed because, "They had too much power over the people". Perhaps the MPLA felt the same way, and took advantage of the chaos on May 27 to ensure that there would be no sequel to the Nitista Uprising encouraged by the songs of the three popular musicians.
Whether guilty of collaboration with the Nitistas or innocent victims of MPLA paranoia or somewhere between those two extremes, the facts behind the execution of Zé, de Castro, and Nunes will almost certainly remain buried. In today's united Angola, the MPLA is too busy winning elections to confront the darker moments of their violent past. Furthermore, the party has no reason to do so: most Angolans remain unwilling to discuss the events of May 27, or even take part in any form of public demonstration for fear of a similar government response. The violence of the MPLA's repression has effectively silenced the nation, and this silence almost erased David Zé completely.
"If you want a prosperous and progressive Angola, don't refuse to work and contribute."
At first read, I thought the lyrics of "Guerrilheiro" were telling a straightforward story, praising the humble virtues of the Angolans in their fight against an oppressive world power. Yet, one crucial piece of information twists that simplified interpretation: the song was released in 1975. This was months after Portugal's new leftist government had recognized the sovereignty of Angola and other former colonies. The war for independence was already over, and the ink was still wet on the Alvor Accords, the short-lived treaty establishing a coalition government between the MPLA, FNLA, and UNITA. In the last verse of the song, David Zé calls for an end to disunity, recognizing the danger of a nation divided and the consequences for those who had already sacrificed the most in the name of independence: soldiers being forced to resume their exile in the jungles, this time to fight against their countrymen. Perhaps "Guerrilheiro" was meant to remind the movement leaders of who would bear the cost for their ideological bickering, but to no avail. On November 11, 1975, the three movements celebrated their first Independence Day in separate regions. Armed violence between the three had begun months earlier.
UNITA Soldiers, with the face of leader Jonas Savimbi in the background
Exhaustion and desperation are written explicitly into the lyrics and music of "Guerrilheiro". Considering the tragedy of David Zé's death and the decades of civil war following, these emotions seem almost prophetic. But the resonance of the song comes from the past. Angola had been in resistance to the Portuguese since the slave trade, struggling to survive the occupation and escape from bondage. Zé was giving voice to an ancestral weariness that had been passed down through generations for hundreds of years. How bitter it must have felt for an ancient dream to come within reach, only to be snatched away by hands so similar to his own.
Two books were invaluable in writing this: the previously referenced Intonations, which is a wealth of information and insight, and Ryzsard Kapuściński's Another Day of Life, which provided a great deal of inspiration. "The 27 May in Angola: A View From Below", a recent article written by journalist Lara Pawson, investigates the Nitista Uprising and its chilling legacy 30 years later. I snatched the album sleeve from Radio Trincheira Firme, an amazing podcast featuring Angolan songs recorded between April 1974 and the first Indepedence Day, November 11, 1975. David Zé remains elusive, though a handful of songs are online at Youtube and a fewblogs.
Great!
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