If Brother Enigma can do it, why not our youngsters in the Karoo?

By PHAKAMISA MAYABA

SOUTH AFRICAN social media have lost it. Clean off its collective rocker. Not because Floyd Shivambu has finally come clean on his reasons to ditch the Seshego Red October. Or that Barack Obama serenaded a delirious Detroit crowd with a few Eminem bars (that’s a ‘rap verse’ to you, Auntie Karen). These are pedestrian events, it appears, compared to a certain Enigma. If that sounds like the moniker of some urban Messianic emissary, you’re close enough. That’s precisely the impression its owner wants to convey.

In the golden era of the so-called ‘prosperity gospel’, Brother Enigma’s meteoric rise through the ranks of up-and-coming charismatics is right up there with that famous wedding at Cana. The Son of Man, who walked on water, could manage but twelve followers. Enigma’s collective videos command a viewership in the million. His competitors warn their flock against him. Podcasters devote airtime to discussing him. One celebrity has even openly agreed with at least one of his views, and the faithful hang on to his every word.

 

Barack Obama’s rendition of rapper Eminem’s ‘Lose Yourself’ at a campaign rally for Vice President Kamala Harris in Detroit last week. Video: YouTube/The Telegraph.

In one such online sermon, Enigma has said things like ‘Madiba magic…[was] delivered by the demons’. And that Jesus has personally sent him to warn the world [women in particular] against wigs [weaves], condoms, leggings, and even that venerable tekkie fondly known in the townships as ‘Chuck Taylor’ – the pantsula’s All Star Converse.

Prosperity Gospelers are notorious for trying to out-televangelise and out-miracle one another from the gleaming pulpits in their mega churches. They spray insectides into the eyes of the faithful, and bring an obviously living man snuck inside a coffin back to life (wish I was making this stuff up).

Still, Enigma has become the new gospel man on the block– the Mbappa amongst the believers. And, here’s the stunner: All he needed to get there was TikTok. A few videos of him shared on that platform have turned an otherwise obscure man of the cloth into a mini celebrity.

 

A clip of one of Brother Enigma’s, uhm, insights. Source: TikTok.

Herein lies the power of social media platforms. When YouTube came up with the slogan ‘Broadcast Yourself’ around the mid-2000s, it immediately infringed on the status quo. Opening up a portal of potential opportunities for users, its subsequent success hardly came as a surprise. Overnight, anyone with a camera, microphone, an internet connection and something to say could say it to the 2.49 billion users currently on that platform. (Yes –that’s a quarter of the world’s population).

Aspirant artists, actors, broadcasters, and others who had hankered for decades after that call from the record company or film studio could showcase their talents without a record deal or formal audition. The internet was their oyster. In no time, the rags-to-riches stories abounded. Artists were discovered from their bedrooms. Street dancers received call-ups to big television talent shows.

Ordinary teachers found themselves teaching millions of learners they didn’t even know by name. Gamers, makeup artists, vloggers, chefs amongst many others of all ages, nationalities and cultures started coining it big-time. The platform had truly shrunk the world into a ‘global village’, and there was clearly a place for anyone with something worthwhile to present.
Although here at home the likes of the highly successful comedian Trevor Noah and the counter-culture music group Die Antwoord are amongst the celebrated stock, it is the lesser known (at least on mainstream media) we’d like to cast the spotlight on. Like Nadav Ossendryver, whose wildlife videos channel have earned him an impressive following.

Or Tafire Deli, whose simple, low-budget but rib-cracking skits have taken this Gqeberha-born hustler to dizzying social media heights. His initial plan was to become a mechanical engineer, but he didn’t have the stomach to upgrade his marks after matric. Moving to Joburg, he landed insignificant gigs as an extra on soap operas before he started to post videos of him impersonating the quirky side of black moms. These became an instant hit, and the lacking end-of-school results didn’t really matter anymore.

 

Tafire’s skits have turned him into a social media sensation. Video: YouTube/Tafire Deli.

With a plethora of similar success stories — from music producers who started out in dingy backrooms to bachelors whose single lifestyles have turned them into mediocre but popular online cooks — what could be stopping the young people in our Karoo dorps from giving it a go? Especially as far as a cappella, choral and even rap music goes, there is no shortage of talent in these backwaters.

If the youth are the custodians of technology, why does it seem that – at least in Colesberg – they are laggards in the uptake of these alternative avenues? Could it be a matter of education, lacking access to equipment or just a matter of personal disinterest? It should be apparent by now that sitting and waiting for employment might lead to waiting for The Second Coming. Not even our Brother Enigma is unthinking enough to do that.

FEATURED IMAGE: Brother Enigma, the current rising star among South Africa’s online Gospel hustlers. Image: YouTube.

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This is an edited version of an article that first appeared on Phakamisa Mayaba’s website, eParkeni. Used with permission.

 

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