A man plays an accordion as people gather at a local tavern, also known as shabeen, in Semonkong. (MARCO LONGARI | AFP)
MASERU, Lesotho — Puseletso Seema is musical royalty in the tiny African mountain kingdom of Lesotho, where she’s known as “the Queen of Famo” -– a popular genre of pastoral accordion music beloved by the country’s people, the Basotho.
But for all her fame, she never got rich, and the 77-year-old grandmother’s living conditions these days are far from regal.
She resides in a small, run-down home along a dusty road in the rural areas outside the capital, where small boys ride donkeys under the shadows of the mountains, and shepherds wrapped in colorful, patterned blankets watch over flocks of sheep.
It’s winter, with strikingly clear blue skies and snow on the distant mountain peaks. Seema doesn’t have money for electricity and is not well, coughing a lot as she reminisces about becoming the first woman to break into a music industry that was once strictly the preserve of men.
Puseletso Seema, known in Lesotho as the ‘Queen of Famo,’ during an interview at her home. (Kate Bartlett | NPR)
“Famo music is a music that is like jazz in other countries, it’s the genre most known in Lesotho,” she explains. “It’s a music that is emotionally connected, you can express your happiness, sadness, all your feelings.”
Journalist Motsamai Mokotjo, who has written on the topic, explains famo this way: “In essence it’s engraved in folk law, you know, it’s poetry fused with the accordion.”
“It speaks to the history of Basotho and everything that’s going on in the country. It’s more like what people in America would say is hip hop, it’s a form of expression,” he adds.
Wayfarers’ Hymns
Lesotho is one of the world’s poorest countries, and Seema grew up with very little. She had no schooling and was put to work by her family as a child looking after the livestock. Usually it was boys who worked as shepherds, but Seema’s parents didn’t have a son. Still, she held her own.
“When I was in the fields I would sometimes fight with some of the herdboys,” she laughs. “And I started singing this music when I was a shepherd.”
Famo started as a rural music among Lesotho’s shepherds, but migrated to the urban areas along with the Basotho who went to work in South Africa’s mines in the 20th century.
A busking famo musician on the streets of Maseru, Lesotho. (Kate Bartlett | NPR)
“It was there where they were introduced to an accordion,” says Mpho Malikeng, a Maseru musician and artist who is an expert on famo. “That is the primary instrument of famo music.”
Lesotho is entirely surrounded by South Africa, whose mineral wealth and vast gold deposits made it a center of mining for decades. After a long day down the shafts, mineworkers would gather at rowdy makeshift pubs called shebeens, and play famo.
Seema, too, went to try and make her fortune in Johannesburg, sometimes dubbed “egoli” or the city of gold. Not as a miner, but a performer for the miners – just as when she was a herder, a woman entering a man’s world.
Portrait of a local shepherd with his dogs wrapped in a blanket in the mountains of Lesotho, Africa. (Edwin Remsberg | Universal Images Group Editorial)
“I’m the first woman to produce famo music,” she says. “Because that music was known for men to sing it and for women to dance to it, flicking up their skirts, when they went to shebeens.”
Government Ban
Famo has changed a lot since Seema’s day. These days, it’s become inextricably associated with gang violence.
While there are no exact statistics on how many lives have been lost to famo-related violence, it is bad enough that last year the Lesotho government launched a crackdown, banning some groups entirely as well as prohibiting media from reporting on the gang wars.
“There are disturbing issues of murders taking place these days. Our families, relatives and friends are killed by these Famo gangs,” said diamond magnate Prime Minister Sam Matekane last year.
“As the government we have released a gazette that indicates that these groups or these people, wherever they are, they should be known as terrorists,” he added.
Lesotho’s businessman-turned-politician Sam Matekane speaks during a news conference in Maseru, Lesotho. (Silence Charumbira | AP)
The government launched the crackdown after a spate of famo revenge killings in 2024. In one, in April, five members of the same family were killed. In July, famo star Khopolo Kholue, was gunned down alongside a local journalist investigating the gang wars.
Mpho Malikeng , a musician and cultural activist from Lesotho, says the violence all comes down to famo musicians trading barbed insults in their song lyrics – and the antipathy then turns to real violence.
“It’s like a rap battle, so you have to diss your fellow battler, by dissing them, you’re making them come up with better verses, and they’re also dissing you back,” he says.
Like a Rap Beef
He likens the situation to the East coast-West coast rivalry between hip hop groups in the 1990’s , that resulted in the murders of Tupac Shakur and the Notorious B.I.G.
There is also friction over turf, he adds, explaining: “You cannot be in a certain area listening to so-and so …. It may even cost you your life.”
However he says he thinks the government has gone too far with the bans, especially as some politicians and members of the security forces are themselves alleged to be involved with Famo gangs.
“It has even infiltrated into the political landscape of the country, the politicians use all this to try and garner support for electioneering,” he says.
Prime Minister Matekane has admitted some members of the police are involved with famo gangs, saying: “We have learned as the government that some members of the security agencies are on the front row in these famo gangs. I appeal to them to quit that thing and do what they are employed to do.”
NPR phoned police minister Lebona Lephema for comment on the crackdown, but he declined to comment and hung up.
Despite having a population of only 2.3 million, Lesotho has high murder rates and illegal firearms are rife. The gang violence has also spilled into neighboring South Africa.
Famo music is still popular among illegal miners there, who risk their lives exploring disused mine shafts to eke out a living. Many of them are Basotho, and are known as “zama zamas,” or “those who take a chance.” Some of them are engaged in gang violence too.
“Queen of Famo,” Seema, doesn’t want to comment on the gang wars that have become part of the music culture. But she will say: “I don’t like music that is vulgar or insulting or insinuating any hate.”
The tiny mountain kingdom of Lesotho is surrounded entirely by South Africa, and it has become plagued by gang violence related to a popular style of music known as famo. The government has even banned some famo groups in an attempt to stop the killing, says – Kate Bartlett reports from the country’s capital, Maseru.
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, “LIRONOKO LUMELANG”)
LISUOA: (Singing in non-English language).
KATE BARTLETT: That’s Khopolo Kholuoe, one of Lesotho’s most famous famo musicians. He was shot dead last year in a hit – another casualty of the famo gang wars roiling the country.
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, “LIRONOKO LUMELANG”)
LISUOA: (Singing in non-English language).
MOTSAMAI MOKOTJO: Famo is a very difficult genre to explain, but in essence, it’s poetry engraved in folklore. People in America or any other country would say it’s hip-hop. It’s a form of expression.
BARTLETT: That’s Lesotho music journalist Motsamai Mokotjo. Some in the Lesotho music industry have likened the situation to the East Coast-West Coast rivalry between hip-hop groups in the 1990s that resulted in the murders of Tupac Shakur and The Notorious B.I.G.
MOKOTJO: There are some bars where you cannot play music from a certain group because you’ll get killed.
BARTLETT: Last year, Prime Minister Sam Matekane declared a war on famo, even going as far as calling some bands terrorists and banning certain blankets linked to musicians. In Lesotho, brightly colored wool blankets are traditional dress. Men wear them draped around their shoulders, and women, pinned at the waist. Their patterns have meaning, and rival gangs wear different ones.
(SOUNDBITE OF MUSIC)
UNIDENTIFIED MUSICAL ARTIST: (Singing in non-English language).
BARTLETT: But it wasn’t always this way. Famo was born from gentle, pastoral origins.
(SOUNDBITE OF MUSIC)
UNIDENTIFIED MUSICAL ARTIST: (Singing in non-English language).
BARTLETT: The accordion-based music was made by herders and shepherds as they wandered Lesotho’s snowcapped mountain ranges with their animals. Later, the music found new life in South Africa, where Lesotho migrants worked Johannesburg’s gold mines. In rowdy shebeens – taverns where miners drunk after work – the music thrived. Men sung with accordion, base and a tin drum wrapped in rubber, while women danced, skirts flying.
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, “MAFOTA”)
PUSELETSO SEEMA: (Singing in non-English language).
BARTLETT: Puseletso Seema broke through the gender barriers to make her own music, becoming known as the Queen of Famo.
SEEMA: (Speaking Sotho).
BARTLETT: She says she grew up in a very poor family and that her parents didn’t have a son, so she had to take care of the animals. In the fields, she found her voice and began singing famo.
SEEMA: (Speaking Sotho).
BARTLETT: She then made her way to Johannesburg, playing for mineworkers and rising to stardom. Despite her popularity, the 77-year-old lives today in abject poverty.
Gogo, which is your famous song? Which one should I play?
SEEMA: It’s one, two, three.
BARTLETT: Let’s listen to you.
(SOUNDBITE OF PUSELETSO SEEMA SONG, “KE NA LE MATHATA”)
BARTLETT: We watched some of her old videos together on YouTube on my phone.
And this song? What are you singing about in this one?
SEEMA: (Speaking Sotho).
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, “KE NA LE MATHATA”)
SEEMA: (Singing in non-English language).
BARTLETT: She says she has pain – pain in her heart. The grandmother doesn’t want to comment on the current gang violence, but she does say she doesn’t like music that is vulgar, insulting or advocates hate.
UNIDENTIFIED PERSON #1: Hello (ph).
BARTLETT: Despite the government crackdown, famo music is still the sound of Maseru. As we walk down the street, famo music blasts from a record store. Shop owner Phoka Namanyane says he lives and breathes famo music.
PHOKA NAMANYANE: (Non-English language spoken).
BARTLETT: He’s not sure why the different famo groups are fighting. He just really digs the music.
(SOUNDBITE OF ACCORDIAN MUSIC)
BARTLETT: For NPR News, I’m Kate Bartlett in Maseru.
UNIDENTIFIED PERSON #2: (Singing in non-English language).