What It’s Like To… Mentor Young African Men Through Music and Dance

Many Black men grew up seeing the people that look like them treat love as a means of control, and their bodies as both mules in pursuit of capital, and a violent force in pursuit of submission. For others, their fathers, uncles, and brothers were not in their lives at all, leaving the role of role model up to, often, the lowest bidder. One South African man is doing his part to change that for future generations. 

PitsiRa YaMabala grew up in Polokwane, a South African city of less than 600,000, where most people's needs were not met by those in leadership, and the emotional burden was unloaded on their loved ones. As is typical in African cities with neglected young Black boys, YaMabala lay prey to groups who profit off of the naivety, confusion due to hormonal changes, and lack of emotional comfort this group receives. “I was so rebellious,” he tells OkayAfrica. “My father died when I was 11. I didn’t even meet him. It haunted me for a very long time, and I didn’t know it was. I’m actually a very sensitive guy, and it’s okay to be sensitive. I learned that later in life.” 

Thankfully, the power of music and brotherhood guided him to greener pastures, and a commitment to being the type of Black man he needed when he was growing up. YaMabala’s journey with mentorship began in Joburg, where he not only met his own mentors, but also began to give back to his community and ensure that young, Black men were given the chance he was. His work with the youths of Johannesburg captured the attention of the Ifetayo Cultural Arts Academy, an organization that has been on a mission to foster African-centered arts and cultural experiences for their community for nearly four decades. The academy saw the impact of YaMabala’s work and wanted him to do the same for young, Black boys in Brooklyn, New York.  Now, YaMabala, who currently lives in Brooklyn and also works as an Africana Studies teacher, mentors and facilitates rites of passage for young Black boys. 

This is What It’s Like To… be a musician, Afrikan Kemetic Yoga Instructor, and mentor, according to PitsiRa YaMabala.

PitsiRa YaMabala: When I was four or five, my late brother organized a group of us boys in my area, and he founded a boys choir. That’s when I learned that composition comes easily to me. My grandparents and parents went to the Lutheran church, and I joined the youth choir and eventually led it. I was called to train other school choirs, too. At home and during ceremonies or rituals, I’d be called into the circles to dance for everyone. Music was always so important to me, but as I got older it became easier to fall into the wrong groups.

In 2009, I met this man named Baba Buntu. He’s a great, great man who took me under his wing and became my mentor. I’m still his mentee till this day. We have a father-son relationship. Once a month, he’d take me to various mountains, and we’d talk about my life, my relationships, my family, and entrepreneurship. My relationship with him changed my life. His name, ‘Buntu,’ means “He lives here”. The things we did together helped me grow and changed my perspective on who I am as an African man. I learned to ask myself, “How do I view the values and principles and ethics of being an African man? What is my relationship between myself and women?” I remember us talking while he drove, and the way he spoke of women favorably actually made me uncomfortable. At that point, my views and perspective were built by the streets, and when I responded, he stopped his car in the middle of the highway and dared me to repeat myself. I was so confused. He reminded me that my mother, aunt, sister, and potential future daughter were all women too, and then gave me great books by and about strong African women. He truly made me understand that every person deserves a mentor and should be one themselves.

In 2010, I joined Baba Buntu’s company eBukhosini Solutions to run a men’s program. I helped to coordinate, facilitate, and organize monthly sessions, and now I have two mentees in South Africa. Sometimes it’s just as simple as checking in on them, asking what’s going on in their lives. People always end up opening up. Most of the young men I’ve met have lost their father figures, uncles, or are surrounded by African men who do not know what the role of being an African man is. Not everyone is a malume (uncle). To be a malume means you ensure these boys understand the transformation from boyhood to manhood, their bodies, and puberty. Young boys are excited, but they are also afraid. This is the true expression of Ubuntu, and not everyone lives by those principles. I encourage the young men to work on their writing skills and to journal. Some of them cry, and I help them understand that it’s an outlet and therefore always fine.

I encourage entrepreneurship because my time opening up businesses in Maboneng was when I started to build confidence in myself. I used to dress up in all sorts of vibrant garments with crazy hairstyles. It helped young men in the programs see me as more hip and approachable because I wasn’t afraid.

Both the groups of young men in South Africa and the ones I work with in Brooklyn tend to be from single-parent households, but the ones in New York City have a more heightened emotional sensitivity. You have to be careful with the way you speak with them. I’ve had to record some of their outbursts on video to share with their families, because I’m not sure how else to help them build accountability. Having to navigate the disrespect here is difficult. So is keeping things interesting for children aged 10 to 16 because there’s so much competition with TikTok and social media. Here, it’s more lesson plans and PowerPoint presentations, whereas in South Africa, I have one-on-one conversations based on what you need and what you tell me. I find that the younger groups are excited to listen, learn, and have fun, and as they get older, suddenly Baba PitsiRa doesn’t know anything or understand what they’re going through. At that age, they believe they know more than me, and they don’t take instructions well. But after class, they usually shock me with how thankful they are. They’ll come up to me during events at the academy and greet me with jokes like, “I know I’m your favorite student.” 

I teach them all of the games we played when I was a child growing up in Limpopo because they were about community and moving the body. I teach them to introduce themselves as the “son of, grandson of, great-grandson of”, because I believe, if you are able to introduce yourself with your lineages in mind, you realize that you’re not actually alone. It builds confidence. I also recently started Shabaka Brooklyn — a brotherhood circle which is a platform for men who are seeking growth, change, and development in their lives. That has made me realize how many men experience abuse and never speak up about it. And how it’s still seen as taboo to talk about mental health. So many men are taught to keep things inside. And that's why we do not live long: not because men are negligent, or they don't take care of their bodies. Stress is a major killer. I started teaching yoga in Yeoville when I lived in Joburg, and at first it was just me and groups of women, and mostly white people. But I kept showing up with my large yoga mat and saw people look at me strangely. It was also for me at the end of the day - you always feel good after exercise, yoga, any sort of moving your body. You can’t come out of a session feeling angry. 

I also have an online program called ‘Teen Talks’ which is based in South Africa. We talk about Ubuntu, we talk about the country’s history, like Sharpeville, we talk about Akan symbols. We create family trees. And song circles are so important. We have to create music that reflects what’s going on today and what’s to come in the future. Yes, it’s important to know the old folk songs, but the circumstances today are different from what they were 40 years ago. We have to bring in different narratives. 

The Ifetayo Cultural Arts Academy’s mission is 5 values: Kiujumla, Ubuntu, Ifetayo, Mbongi, and Sankofa. We also have what we call “The African Cosmologies”, because everything we do is based on African perspectives. We talk about colonization, the transatlantic slave trade, but also African heroes and heroines, kings and queens. It’s very Afrocentric, and specifically Pan-African. We talk about the Maroons in Jamaica, and so much more. It’s about knowing yourself. We also dance a lot. Dancing is an amazing icebreaker. 

I don’t want to lie - it’s a lot of work. And it’s a lot of pressure. If you say or do the wrong thing, sometimes even just once, you can totally lose a kid. And they could end up seeking out criminal activities, or drugs, or who knows. But, as Nelson Mandela said, “It always seems impossible until it’s done.” We are on earth to be happy, to experience joy, and love. And I think that through music, yoga, and community, you can find joy every single day if you work at it.