Small town Eswatini cowboys live the big Texas dream
Daniel Nelson
“There’s this song by Dolly Parton, called my Tennessee Mountain Home,” says the man in the dusty African village, “and when you listen to that song it’s like Dolly Parton was telling the story of my life.”
The speaker, Gazi Simelane, is happy that country music has reached his remote corner of Swaziland, but a new documentary tells the delightful tale of how he and fellow singer-guitarist Linda Msibi reverse the cultural flow and become the men who take Swaziland (now Eswatini) to the US.
Simelane and Msibi are Dusty and Stones — “just two cowboys from Mooihoek”.
For years they look the part, play their guitars, sing and lead the line-dance. While keeping their day jobs they improve their skills through practice and YouTube videos, enjoy performing and put country on the Swazi map. But it’s a mighty small map. Like musicians the world over, they struggle with recalcitrant mikes and scanty audiences at ill-equipped venues where the music leaks into the African night.
After yet another competent performance in a nearly empty room the duo slump as their manager tells them forlornly, “You know, I’ve tried all the tricks … It’s been years and only a handful of people have shown up.”
An unexpected email changes everything. The Texas Sounds International Country Music Awards tells the duo it has spotted them on YouTube and “believes that your performance will be very well received by our Texas audience”, and invites them to the country of country.
“What more can you ask for?”, muses Stones, a quiet, modest response that is typical of the two men and of the film.
After a brief and touching visit home — rheumy-eyed grandparents, ululations, blessings, recollections, and of course singing, laughter and a promise “that you’ll have a baby to play with soon”: the all-African package — the cowboys head for their first flight, mystifying US food and very bright lights (“I guess this is what you call downtown”).
Director Jesse Rudoy captures their reactions (though he should have answered a few more questions, such as how the pair really got into country). The high point is a recording session offered by a country music producer. This is really where small town boys meet big dreams. They sit in the studio listening to the richness, the swell and drive of the final sound, heads bobbing in wonderment at its fullness, hearing what they can only have ever previously imagined. Silence. Then quiet sobbing. They are totally overwhelmed. Their response is to remember the grandparents who helped raise them and to regret that their parents did not live long enough to share the moment.
The low point is coming face to face with the scuzzy reality of the Texas show: the energy-sapping seen-it-all-before let’s-get-this-over attitude of the backing musicians, the announcer who welcomes them from Swayzeeland, the careless disorganisation, the tiny audience (“It looks like a retirement home in here”).
But high or low (“This is something way, way different from what we were hoping”), Dusty and Stones keep their heads. They are polite, amiable, respectful and honest, adaptably making the best of whatever they come up against. Everyone (except the backing band) responds warmly to them.
They win the Duo of the Year Award. “At least we achieved something, man.” “The media back home - they’ll go nuts!” It’s true: the award is front-page news in the Swazi Observer. It’s as though the Swazi cowboys have won a Nobel Prize.
Texas turns out to be less than the promise. But they bought the boots, followed the dream and travelled to the heart of country music. They return to Eswatini, where family, friends and fans share the joy. Home is sweet. So is Dusty and Stones.
Dusty and Stones is showing at the Raindance Film Festival, London, 25 October - 4 November.