By Jonathan Mbiriyamveka
In the quiet hours of this morning, a foundational piece of Zimbabwe’s musical soul slipped away.
Nicholas “Madzibaba” Zakaria, the revered guitarist and mentor to generations, passed away, sending waves of grief through the nation and its arts community.
Among the first to publicly bear his heartache was superstar Alick Macheso, who didn’t just lose a colleague, but a father.
In a poignant Shona tribute on his official page, Macheso, who once strummed alongside Zakaria in the legendary Khiama Boys, laid bare a loss that felt both deeply personal and universally shared.
“Today is a day the flesh has been deeply cut, a wound that does not heal, a painful wound for us the living,” Macheso wrote, his words echoing the shock of countless fans.
“We have lost our father, Madzibaba Zakaria. He was the cradle and the bridge for us in music.”
For Macheso and many others, Zakaria was far more than a bandmate. He was the “Senior Lecturer,” a patient teacher whose classroom was the rehearsal space and whose syllabus was the soulful, intricate sound of sungura.
“He was the godfather of Zimbabwean music,” Macheso told this publication, reflecting on the title Zakaria earned not by decree, but by devotion.
“From him, we learned more than chords; we learned discipline, passion, and how to carry the spirit of our people in a melody. He was our zambuko—our bridge—from the past to the present.”
The announcement from Madzibaba’s management on X was simple, carrying the weight of the loss: “It is with profound sadness that we announce the passing of Nicholas Zakaria . . . His legacy will live on through his music.”
Yet, for those he nurtured, the legacy is more than recordings. It’s in the very fabric of the industry. Macheso’s tribute painted a picture of a man whose life’s work is a living, breathing monument.
“His works, together with his songs, will become our history and a reference for generations to come,” Macheso wrote, finding a sliver of solace in permanence.
“To his mentor, he offered a final, heartfelt farewell: “I await all the families. I say, rest in peace, Baba.”
As details for memorial services are awaited, the industry is left with a silent studio, a missing rhythm, and the enduring echo of a gentle lecturer who taught a nation how to feel through strings and song.
The bridge he built, however, remains—crossed by every musician who carries a piece of his lesson forward.
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