Montrose: The Neighbourhood That Became a Voice

In 1974, a young John Masuku stood in a recording studio and read the translations he had been asked to prepare.

Amon Nyamambi and technical operators Andrew Chawota and Jeremiah Mwandiyambira listened. In Masuku’s later recollection, their approving expressions were an encouraging sign. A formal interview and a broadcasting job followed.¹

That audition took place in Salisbury, today Harare. It belongs here because it introduces one of the people who helped make Montrose familiar to listeners: Nyamambi, known on air as Maqhulayibambe. Masuku himself would later serve as controller at Montrose.¹²

Before a voice reaches a household, somebody has to hear its promise. Somebody has to teach, listen and help a new broadcaster improve. Masuku’s memory gives us a glimpse of that work.

Nyamambi’s interest in language had roots in his schooling. He remembered the Ndebele lessons of Khelu Mlotshwa at Wanezi Mission as an influence on his career. His advice to later broadcasters was practical: respect the languages you use, learn to pronounce names properly and consult people who know when you are unsure.¹

For a listener, that care can be heard in a single place-name. It can also be heard in the ease with which a presenter tells a story or brings a written passage to life.

According to Masuku’s history of broadcasting in Bulawayo, the Montrose studio complex opened in 1975. Radio Mthwakazi began on New Year’s Day that year, following Nyamambi’s efforts to secure more space for Ndebele programming.²

The story brought together writers, producers and presenters. Masuku names Harry Nleya, Thandiwe Khumalo, Orna Maphosa, Luke Mnkandla and others among the people involved. Nleya wrote the serial Sakhelene Zinini, produced by Nyamambi, while Zinhle Indaba Ezinhle offered poetry.²

Those titles may bring back voices for some readers. For others, they may be names heard from parents or grandparents. Either way, they point to a body of work worth remembering: scripts written, programmes prepared, performances recorded and conversations carried beyond the studio.

Pathisa Nyathi also recalled Radio Mthwakazi’s base at Montrose and the broadcasters associated with it. His account helps place the station within the city’s cultural memory, alongside the recollections of people who worked in broadcasting.³

The service closed in 1980, but Montrose continued as a centre for production and news gathering. Its later work included regional programmes and the coordination of broadcasting coverage of the Zimbabwe International Trade Fair.²

For the neighbourhood, that history gives its name an unusual reach. A listener did not have to know a particular Montrose road to develop an association with the place. A studio credit, a programme or the name of a broadcaster could supply the connection.

The origin of the neighbourhood’s own name still needs further investigation. An original naming record would help establish whether it commemorated a person or another place.

The broadcasting story is much clearer. It gives Montrose people whose work can be named and programmes that listeners may still recall.

Nyamambi’s advice about pronunciation offers a fitting way to remember that work. Care for a place can begin with saying its name properly. Care for an audience can begin with making the effort to be understood.

Which Montrose voices and programmes do you remember? Was there one that brought your household to the radio, or a broadcaster whose name you still say with affection?