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Lenox Lizwi Mhlanga

I think I owe some people an explanation. Unknown to most of you, I’m called “Graffiks” by those who swear by my name. That includes my colleagues at Amavenane social club (interpreted to mean drinking club by others) and my former varsity mates.

The nickname “Graffiks” is not misspelt, so adjust your auto-correct accordingly. It was self-coined. By the normal standards of nicknames it breaks convention.

By definition, a nickname is a short, clever, cute, derogatory, or otherwise a substitute name for a person or thing’s real name. As a concept, it’s distinct from both a pseudonym or a stage name, although there may be overlap in these concepts.

That’s the academic definition by the way. In simpler terms, it’s the first name by which one is commonly called, differing from the formal name one was given at birth, usually belittling the person.

But as we all know, a nickname is not always flattering and that the owners usually resist them. The more they resist it, the more it tends to stick. I did have a host of both cute and uncomplimentary nicknames in my short life.

I was curiously called Lolo, which was short for Lenox Lizwi, my official names. Though it sounded like lollipop, I grew to love it because it did not denote any harm. Then there were people who called me Leox Beef, after a canned delicacy of the same name.

Then atrocious “Lenyosi,” need I say more? The list was endless. The worst nickname I had was being called “mistake.” The chap who “chested” that one to me regrets doing so to this very day. He resembled the biological amoeba, which explains why it never really clung to me.

I had the rare privilege of choosing a nice nickname for myself. The story goes thus. . . Once upon a time when stones were still soft (in 1985 to be precise), I was admitted into the University of Zimbabwe as an undergraduate student.

University was a blast with plenty of nice women and alcohol flowing in its tree-lined avenues and hotel-like residences. Never mind the books we had gone there for. Those were distractions if you ask me. That is where I met my wife so it goes without saying.

I was determined to succeed as we all were, with a few exceptions of course. There were those who came to have a peek, like the late Mike Munyati (Lord bless his soul) of ZBC who nearly took a lifetime to complete his first degree, only to give up.

How could he succeed when he was one of the privileged reporters who accompanied His Excellency on state visits abroad?

And there were those who wanted to make a loud statement like former deputy Prime Minister Arthur (AGO) Mutambara. AGO learnt the tough way that at the UZ, there might have been freedom of speech, yet freedom after speech was another issue.

In the heat of the moment, some students got together to start Focus, a students’ magazine that exercised academic freedom a bit too liberally.

By the way I forgot to tell you that I am, or was, a gifted artist. This might shock some of you, but when I was in Grade One right up to Grade Two, teachers used to fight over me. I would draw illustrations for our Radio Lesson with Ms Charles along with Tendayi, Jane and Moses.

Sad to say, I totally missed out on those intriguing episodes where Miss Charles would say: “Alright children, say this after me, ‘The bucket is full’” then a bell would ring (ding!) so that we would, in chorus repeat exactly what she had just said.

Needless to say, my command of the Queen’s language was already light years away courtesy of my enterprising father. J Temba plied me with children’s magazines, cartoon strips and books bought from the auction. These included South African comic books with weirdly characters like Chunky Charlie, Devil Bat and She. Chunky Charlie was known for his uncanny ability of solving crime and also retrieving an assortment of items from inside his huge coat that included, and not in that order, a loaf of bread (his favourite meal), a bicycle and at one time a car!

Devil Bat was a vampire and obviously the bad guys, while “She” was this female superhero who wore an Afro, the fashion statement of that time. Her weapon of choice was a knife (an Okapi) that could fly.

For those who don’t know, an Okapi knife is the assumed traditional weapon of the Ndebele. I should add here that the dialogue in those comics was a bit on the daft side.

One expression coined in those comics of old that made its way into everyday language was, “What the?”

I was later to discover that it was short for that very vulgar African American expression. But yet again I digress.

The story is about the nickname Graffiks. The guys at college (UZ) who formed Focus magazine included Tawana Kupe (now a famous don at Wits University), Lawrence Tshuma (now late) Titus Moetsabi (later known ominously as Moetsabi Moetsabi, a poet of note), Lovemore Banda (known to some as Lovemore Blunder of ZTV fame), the late Thomas Deve, Babusi Njini “The Mullah” who used to dominate Letters To The Editor.

I was the Arts Editor doing the cover design, illustrations and, of course, the cartoonist. Some of the cartoons I drew were quite acerbic.

People on campus had the tendency of taking the law into their hands. And blows were traded liberally like mopane worms in the DRC. So I had to think up a pseudonym to hide my true identity.

Lenox means Leo, which is Lion. A lion denotes bravery and many other things. I then thought of appending the word “graphics” but it somehow looked too ordinary. I had this reggae background whose stock in trade was turning the Queen’s language inside-down.

I then decided to “Africanise” the word and Graffiks with two f’s came up. So below every illustration, cartoon and design (I also did T-shirts and logos) that I produced was appended the tag “Lion Graffiks.”

Be that as it may, my identity was not secret for long. When the magazine was banned, I continued drawing cartoons and sticking them on my door. I enjoyed listening to people laughing or passing vile comments.

A steady flow of students ogled at the latest caricatures.

Some thought I was crazy. It so happened that I was also an above average soccer player, a wicked defence for Burning Spear Football club in the University Soccer League. We scooped the league and Chancellor’s Cup on countless occasions.

My teammates shortened my tag to just “Graffiks”, which in a strange sort of way described the way I ploughed into a striker. The multitude of fans (among which the females were a notable section) would shout “Graffiks”! each time I performed a heroic (read suicidal) sliding tackle.

So to this day, my close pals call me Graffiks. What is the story behind your nickname?