TAWANDA CHARI
There is something deeply intentional about Zindoga. It is not an album fitting a particular sonic trend or boxed into a neat genre corner. It feels contemporary in its execution, yet culturally anchored in its spirit. It moves between worship, romance, ritual and resilience with admirable ease.
The project first comes to life with a cry to the ancestors in the song “Bvumai” steeped in a three-step groove; a piece that transforms into something more ceremonial. It is a call, a cry to the vadzimu.
Here, Rutendo Jackie is summoning. The song leans into the atmosphere of a bira, that sacred cultural space where the living petition the departed for guidance, protection and wisdom. The troubles of the world feel heavy in this record. Life is hard. The burdens are many. And in this vein “Bvumai” becomes a plea for the ancestors to accept our cries and intervene.
It eschews weakness and leans more into acknowledgement, reflective of how wisdom did not start with us, and survival often requires spiritual alignment with those who walked before us.
Then comes the soft language echoing the themes of love and affection in the song Mangwanani. If greeting is not officially classified as a love language, Rutendo Jackie makes a compelling argument that it should be.
In “Mangwanani,” affection is expressed through presence. A woman who wakes up and says “good morning”. Who asks how your day was. Who calls you by your totem: not casually but intentionally. In Shona culture, calling someone by their totem is layered with respect, identity recognition and deep relational acknowledgment.
It says: I see you. I know where you come from. I honour your lineage. That kind of attention is intimacy. That kind of respect is affection. Rutendo Jackie reframes romance as something gentle and culturally rooted.
“Usacheme” (ft. Sylent Nqo) and “Nipe Penzi” (ft. Sadimu) further explore vulnerability. The latter is a direct request for emotional reciprocity. It does not mask its needs. Instead, it embraces it. The album understands that strength and softness are not opposites, they coexist.
“Worship” comes in with the motif of God as the light and sustainer. “Mwari muri zuva redu” translates to “God is our sun.” In Shona cosmology and Christian symbolism alike, the sun represents life, warmth, direction and renewal. By calling God the sun, Rutendo Jackie aligns herself with a theology that positions God as the ultimate source of protection, provision, battle strategy and illumination.
The track carries the emotional weight of a beloved Christian hymn, the kind sung collectively, with conviction.
“Shanda” (Work) ft. Shayne reinforces a principle that runs quietly through the project: faith without effort is incomplete. The song honours discipline and grind. It is motivational without being cliché. It acknowledges that prayer must meet perspiration.
The title track “Zindoga” is the emotional thesis of the album.
It narrates the story of a loner—not by preference, but by circumstance; an outcast compelled to navigate life largely alone. There is pain in that isolation. There is rejection. There is social labelling. But all that counts for nothing in the final analysis for the loner triumphs in their solitude.
Rutendo Jackie uses the term “makunakuna” within this narrative a word historically deployed in Shona society to describe severe, culturally prohibited sexual transgressions of an incestuous nature, acts considered deeply taboo and subject to significant traditional sanction. In the song’s context, it operates metaphorically capturing what it feels like to be branded morally unacceptable, socially contaminated, and irredeemable.
Yet the song flips the script.
You can be labelled an abomination.
You can be ostracized.
You can be alone.
And still rise. That is the essence of Zindoga as a conceptual framework.
“Zindoga” argues that isolation can polish you. That exclusion can refine you. That surviving stigma can produce strength. The loner emerges not broken, but sharpened.
However, “Ka 2 Dhora” feels like the most experimental detour and not entirely in a good way. It sounds scattered, almost disconnected from the emotional cohesion of the rest of the project. It is easily the album’s lowest point.
“Huku Ine Ronda” follows closely behind on that scale, though it at least feels somewhat anchored within the broader soundscape. It does not derail the album. it just does not elevate it.
Zindoga is undeniably contemporary. It does not commit to a singular, easily identifiable sound. Instead, it moves fluidly between gospel, Afro-fusion, three-step and experimental textures.
This lack of a fixed sonic identity works in its favour for the most part. It mirrors the thematic diversity of the album.
Album Rating: 7.2/10
You can listen to the album here:
https://open.spotify.com/album/756XvjznTGNZ5ubrj5pcBY?si=Clr0NbGnSZ2veG_baBp21g
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