What has happened to Mzwakhe Mbuli lately is more bizarre and would have brought many people to a breaking point, but he is a warrior whose greatest strength is an unbreakable spirit. From October 1997, he was been held for almost two years in Pretoria, first at Central Prison and then Maximum Security. In August 1999, he was transferred to Leeukop Maximum Security, in Bryanston, South Africa.

Mzwakhe's trial for armed robbery concluded at the end of March 1999, after he was denied bail and held for a year and a half. Convicted on circumstantial evidence, he was sentenced to thirteen years in prison. He was assigned to a hard labor division and very severely restricted.

Despite the facts of the case indicating innocence, the guilty verdict rendered by the magistrate was no surprise. Nor was the hefty sentence of thirteen years--eighteen, with five suspended. Apartheid may have left the statute books in South Africa, but it has not left the so-called independent judiciary. This time, the people's poet unfortunately has gotten tangled up in it, and at a time when crime has been high, and a framed celebrity has provided a means of setting an example.

Mzwakhe Mbuli's importance in South African culture has extended far beyond protest, but he is also far more than just an entertainer. In South Africa, performance poetry is not just entertainment. It is a means of reaching the people. Unlike most artists, Mzwakhe is not dependent on electronic media. Unlike most poets, he is not even dependent on printed words. He and his followers recite poems from memory. In fact, unlike most poets, he therefore has many people who cannot read among his legions of fans.

Mzwakhe draws on traditional amaZulu upbringing and puts his own spin on the classic tradition of praise poetry. He also writes music and poetry in a thoroughly modern style which is all his own. The praise he gives when praise is due is rivaled only by criticism he places where it is deserved. Mzwakhe has been consistent in speaking out against corruption and injustice in all forms and in all arenas.

The "king of rap" of South Africa can rap with the best of them, in many languages. This is not a hiphop thing, although he is undeniably hip. This is a thing of telling it like it is, like it has been, and like it ought to be. Although his work speaks volumes about problems past and present, it is fundamentally prophetic.

It may seem that poetry was a luxury in South Africa's most turbulent times. The reality is that Mzwakhe's poetry gave an agonized population hope and courage for sustenance during the struggle which brought down apartheid. His poetry has built strength for nation-building. Mzwakhe has always spoken out for those who for reasons of ethnic or other difference feel ignored or forgotten.

This is no conventional poet lodged in academia, or even an unconventional one whose social criticism laid over his music might make him a regular on late-night talk shows if he were in the U.S. This is a poet dedicated to serving people who possess little materially but who proudly claim a poet as their very own. What does such a poet do in South Africa, where people have been under assault for decades, and where a whole nation now struggles toward recovery?

Mzwakhe Mbuli earned the unofficial title of "people's poet" by helping a bereaved nation bury its heroes, great and small. His work in the struggle for justice made him a national leader. At a time when funerals were the only events where black people could gather and talk to each other, Mzwakhe was a galvanizing force amid chaos. Somehow weaving poetry around unbearable tragedies, he delivered countless poetic eulogies when people close to those who died were too traumatized even to speak. He and his words against apartheid were banned. That didn't stop him from appearing at rallies to energize the people. To avoid arrest, he developed skill in disappearing into crowds after performing poems.