Vusi Mahlasela in Seattle

Vusi Mahlasela, the legendary South African musician, singer-songwriter, performed at The Triple Door a few weeks ago. Vusi, who was one of the voices for the non-violent struggle against apartheid in South Africa, showed a glimpse of the powerful magic that he has been weaving the last three decades. He is a master on the guitar, and his music is so lovely that one forgets that some of the songs were in unfamiliar South African languages. He also had a very talented band, who seemed somewhat shy with all the attention, which was quite charming.

Vusi's earthy poetry brought to life the beauty of the African continent, beauty that would surely make one breathless - if one were fortunate enough to see it. Predictably, a lot of the songs he performed were rooted in the apartheid-era struggles. But, he did not, by any means, imply that the struggle for justice in the world was a thing of the past. On the contrary, he spent several minutes talking about the poverty and injustice that remains entrenched, particularly in Africa, and he dedicated a lovely song to the bush people of the Kalahari in Botswana, who are now being driven out of the land they have lived on since humans first walked on the earth.

His music and life has been shaped by, among other things, strong women of character. He recounted an incident from his youth, when as black-listed college activists, he and his friends were routinely hounded and harassed by the apartheid-era police. One evening, tiring of her grandson's brushes with the police state, his grandmother asked the young Vusi to sleep inside her house, as she stood guarding the doorstep. When the police arrived, the dauntless woman yelled at them - look, I have a big pot of boiling water here, the first one of you to come near Vusi gets it. And the cops slinked away. Vusi also sang of an unknown pregnant woman who jumped over a barbed-wire fence so her baby could be born in safety.

After over an hour of great beauty, Vusi and the band did their final bows to the audience, who were loath to let them go.

I couldn't help thinking that it seemed a little incongruous and paradoxical that Vusi's audience that evening was an all-white (with only a handful of exceptions), visibly privileged crowd. I wish we could have sponsored a performance of his at a less-privileged and racially diverse neighborhood of the city. Everyone should have a chance to hear his music. In Vusi's own words: "I know that I have something that is like a borrowed fire from God. And I have to use it in a very positive way."