The Next Edition

Harare has always provided a few hidden gems when it comes to interesting live music and performing arts events. Some restaurants and bars rely on these nights to keep things fresh, but it’s difficult to find details about the shows, and none of the venues ever has anything happening more than once or twice a week.

Once upon a time, however, there was a magical space in Harare where there was an event happening every night of the week. It was a place frequented religiously by the city’s artists and creatives, and was a regular stop for tourists looking for a window into the local scene. That place was Book Café (and for a time its sister club, Mannenberg) and together the venues were a melting pot that cut through the social, economic and racial divisions that split the city’s communities.

Book Café still holds a special place in many people’s hearts and memories. Since 2015, when it closed its doors, people often ask me, “What happened to our Book Café? When will we have our place back?” These are difficult questions to answer because the story of Book Café is complex; but since I was there at the very beginning and at the very end, I am in a unique position to know the full story. I am a product of Book Café: not only am I a former employee and the son of its founder, Paul, but it was there that I first performed my own original compositions, and my current band, chikwata.263, was born in those rooms. Indeed, many of my early childhood memories are of sitting in Grassroots Books — the first iteration of the Book Café — working my way through its extensive collection of Russian and Chinese children’s literature.

Grassroots Books was founded after Independence by a group of ex-ZIPRA war veterans, which included my father and my uncle, who donated seed money to help launch a bookshop, tasking my parents with sourcing books that had previously been banned by the Rhodesian government. But as the years went by and the economy unravelled, buying books became a luxury and, in an effort to adapt with the changing times, Grassroots Books evolved into a combination of a bookshop, restaurant and bar. Situated on the edge of the CBD, upstairs at Fife Avenue shopping centre, Book Café began trading in 1997.

Book Café consisted of a small bookshop managed by my mother and a cafe run by my grandmother. My father looked after the tiny stage area where there was a programme of discussions on politics, economics and social issues, as well as literary events, poetry slams and a weekly performance by the Luck St Blues band — of which both my father and I were a part.

The venue was a hit, attracting a wide range of writers, academics and artists: at its peak, Book Café was hosting up to 16 events a week and soon became known as “Harare’s cultural hub”. There were poetry slams, film screenings and fashion shows, book launches and theatre productions. New performance concepts, such as an open mic night, were introduced, as was a weekly stand-up comedy event featuring the legendary Edgar Langeveldt. There were, of course, lots and lots of live bands: some of the biggest names in the history of Zimbabwean music, such as Chiwoniso, Andy Brown, Mokoomba and Oliver Mtukudzi, often took to the stage, forging a path for the careers of countless others. The Café gave mbira music a primetime Friday night slot, helping to push it into the mainstream.

In 1999, when a space next door became available, the business expanded and the Mannenberg, Harare’s first jazz club, was opened. Over the next ten years, Book Café and Mannenberg became the centre of Harare’s art and culture scene. The House of Hunger poetry slam attracted renowned Zimbabwean poets such as Chirikure Chirikure, Albert Nyathi, Cde Fatso and Outspoken — the latter two would go on to start a regular hip-hop and spoken word event at Mannenberg that we now know as Shoko Festival. Through the Pamberi Trust, an arts- and culture-focused NGO started by my father, numerous development programmes were created; indeed, Zimbabwean favourite Simuka Comedy started life at Mannenberg.

Book Café’s events were frequented by ambassadors and penniless poets alike; people of all backgrounds became regulars, united by a shared love of art and culture. New friendships and understandings were born that transcended society’s divisions. The artists and creatives who performed there also used the space to socialise and network; many of them called Book Café their “home”. The concepts of free speech and inclusiveness were always championed, enabling frequent progressive discussions that clashed with increased government suppression of dissenting voices. Meanwhile, the country’s economic conditions created a rollercoaster ride for businesses, but somehow Book Café and Mannenberg survived, sustained through the worst times by support from the Pamberi Trust, and at other times subsidising Pamberi’s activities when it too ran out of funding.

Then, in 2011, disaster struck: we were evicted from both venues to make way for an expansion of the supermarket downstairs. But just three months later, against the odds and at great cost, the merged Book Café and Mannenberg clubs reopened slightly further into town, on Samora Machel Avenue, rebranded to simply “Book Café”. The new space was larger, allowing for bigger shows. Musicians such as Sulu Chimbetu and Oliver Mtukudzi could perform with their full bands, while emerging acts could now open for better-known names thus creating a complete ecosystem for supporting new talent.

ay. My father, Paul Roger Brickhill, legendary Book Café founder and Managing Director, was diagnosed with cancer and died just over two months later, less than a year after he first fell ill. The Book Café was no more.

Apart from my father’s sudden death, there were other factors that lead to its closure. The Pamberi Trust, our NGO partner started by my father, had tried to reinvent itself to deal with Zimbabwe’s worsening economic crisis, but it too had lost its visionary founder. We also suffered huge losses during the move to the new location on Samora Michel Avenue. Within an 18-month period, Book Café, Jazz 105, Misty’s and Sports Diner all closed, marking the end of dedicated live music venues in the city.

It was this perfect storm that had killed my father’s dream, but on his death bed he had warned me not to kill myself trying to keep his dream alive. He actively pushed me to pursue my own course in life, but I was still heartbroken when I had to make the painful decision to close Book Café down in 2015.
Zimbabwe has an enormous number of talented artists and musicians and I believe that we need a Book Café now more than ever. Recently I’ve started revisiting the model of the original venue (and what it later became) to figure out what I might do differently, and which things need to be the same if the concept is to thrive once more.

In the months leading up to his cancer diagnosis my father had been working on the idea of formalising the intimate but haphazard relationship that had developed over the years between the venue and the artists into an official membership structure. This should be a key component of Book Café 2.0 — it should be part-owned and run by a more formal collective of the artists and creatives who utilise the space.

However, a new Book Cafe needs to be commercially focused. Although grants or donations to get it up and running would be more than welcome, ultimately the model must be self-sufficient to be sustainable. I believe that investing in arts and culture can and should be profitable, but the balance between extracting profits and reinvesting in developing new talent is key — this was Book Café’s secret sauce.

I would want to revive some of the ideas and events so beloved of Book Café regulars, but we would also have to innovate, developing new concepts to nurture talent once more. Ultimately our goal must be to own the venue so that any new Book Café can be assured a secure future, whatever surprises the Zimbabwean economy may have in store. Could the Book Café really come back into existence? I believe that it can.

Next year we will hold the Book Café Festival to remind you of what we lost when the venue closed, and to let people know that we’re looking for a new location. Book Café was “home” to the artists, creatives and patrons because it was a place of encouragement and support. It’s always been our Book Café, it felt like it belonged to us all. It’s time to bring it back to life. Who’s in?

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