Grandmother of African art finds unlikely partner in war on Aids

On the outskirts of a sprawling low compound stands a sun-bleached, hand-painted billboard. It welcomes visitors to the village and proclaims: “Esther is here … First lady to travel over sea.”

Esther Mahlangu is indeed here. She is sitting, legs outstretched, on a reed mat lain across a mud floor, painting careful black lines on a rough piece of paper with her chicken-feather paintbrush, inside an open-sided thatched-roof hut. This is the classroom where she teaches young girls, just as her mother and grandmother taught her “long, long ago”, she says.

At 82 years old, Mahlangu is not only an artist and teacher, but one of the last skilled custodians of the traditions of the Ndebele people. Her painting uses the pigments of her surroundings: the black comes from the mud in the river; the grey from a tree leaf pounded into paste; and there are five colours to be extracted from the African soil nearby. Shop-bought paints also fill giant well-used pots. She is especially fond of an azure, which can be seen in her wild geometric patterns that adorn every cow dung-plastered surface of the surrounding huts, walls and houses.

One of the most famous artists in South Africa, Mahlangu is a living tourist attraction, although visitors are few and far between in this far-flung village, two hours’ drive from the nearest city. And she is indisputably the most honoured gogo – Zulu for grandmother – of the Ndebele who remain in the Mpumalanga homelands.

The tribe’s numbers have dwindled as young people have departed to look for work in the big South African cities. The scourges of poverty, malaria, Aids and TB have also taken their toll. Mahlangu herself, a widow, has outlived all three of her sons and three of her grandchildren. However, she sees the real risk as the extinction of her tribe’s traditions, and it is that which has driven this little old lady to travel the world pushing Ndebele art internationally, in the hope of making the next generation at home also see its worth.

“This culture must not die,” she said. “Our young people don’t wear the clothes or respect their forefathers, the girls have hair extensions and wear western clothes. This does not make me feel comfortable. They are vandalising our traditions. This is why I talk to them, try to motivate them with my travels and teach them too about Aids.”

Along with art, the battle against Aids is Mahlangu’s passion now and the two obsessions have led her into an extraordinary collaboration. As part of a campaign promoted by John Legend, she has just created a classic Ndebele design for a special-edition bottle of Belvedere vodka (Red). Half of the profits will be donated to the Global Fund to be used in tackling HIV/Aids, malaria and TB.

Red’s strategy of partnering with big-name, luxury and designer brands to produce a bespoke product, sales of which generate donations to the fund, has been criticised for being too consumerist. It is a division of Bono’s One charity, but is run separately.

Charles Gibb, president of Belvedere vodka, is happy to acknowledge the PR benefits for his brand, but is also proud of his relationship with the most famous artist of the Ndebele people, whom he calls “a very special woman”.

“For celebrities and artists, it’s as important to do something as much as it is for anyone else,” said Gibb. “And most of them have something they care about. So everyone is tapping into something and at the end of the day it’s people relying on the Global Fund who benefit.”

It’s an unlikely alignment. A little great-grandmother from a yellow-dusted African village and a Polish luxury spirit drunk in some of the world’s more upmarket bars and hedonistic nightclubs. Mahlangu doesn’t drink alcohol and she certainly doesn’t drink vodka.

“I am very proud of her,” says her son, William. “She is our queen, queen of Ndebele, and our happy mascot.”

Mahlangu perches cheerfully on the chair, feet dangling, enjoying the role of dignitary. A tiny woman, her body is from the top of her head to her sandalled feet swamped by strips of beadwork, tapering metal and coloured bands. A heavy wool blanket in bright stripes of primary colours completes her plumage.

In 1986, when she was “discovered” by a passing French art dealer, Aids was still unknown. It is still a taboo subject and Mahlangu will touch only briefly on it but is passionate about educating young people on prevention.

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In Weltevreden clinic, the local health centre, there are signs already of prevention. They have not seen a baby born with HIV since 2008. “It’s very different now, less people are dying,” said Sister Bathabile, who runs the clinic for a population of 9,500, of whom almost one in 10 are HIV positive. “It’s 15km to the hospital and our clinic is very, very small, too small,” she said, indicating the packed waiting room and queue of patients outside on the grass. “The doctor comes once a week, so it’s not ideal, but we never have a shortage of medicines at least. It is very rare for us to not have antiretrovirals.”

But charities stress that the real danger in South Africa is in slipping backwards. While the government and the Global Fund are supporting HIV/Aids work, the epidemic can be controlled, but eradicating it is still a pipe dream. Mahlangu still hopes it will happen in her lifetime. In October she will be in London for the opening of the British Museum’s exhibition of South African art, which will run from 27 October to 26 February. The only thing that fazes Mahlangu about such a long trip is airport security. Not because of the large bag of mealie meal she insists on carrying with her to combat her fear of being stuck with foreign food, but because of the metal detectors.

“They are always trying to make me take off my wedding bands,” she said, showing the rows and rows of brass rings on her wrists and ankles that are carefully tapered to accentuate the limbs. Given to her on her wedding day by her husband, her neck rings came on the same day from her parents.

“I say no, I cannot, these are from my husband. And oh they get very upset. Maybe they want me to sit on the X-ray machine.” She goes off in gales of laughter.

“No, I love to travel, but I love most to come home again. It makes me happy if people like Ndebele art.” And now, by buying it, people can contribute to battling the scourge that has blighted her homeland’s recent history.

The limited edition Red bottle, designed by Esther Mahlangu, is available from September. For every bottle bought, Belvedere will donate 50% of the profits to the Global Fund, the leading financier supporting HIV/Aids prevention in Africa.