Today I welcomed two dear visitors to my blog from China, and with them came a rush of memories—spotlights warming quiet theatres, post‑show noodles that tasted like victory, and the soft hush before a first note that says: we’re here together—let’s begin.
I was invited to China to perform Masonoko some years ago. Before I ever set foot in China, I did something simple and important at home: I spent time at the Confucius Institute at the University of Botswana, learning basic Mandarin and soaking in the culture that would soon welcome me so generously. The Institute’s mission—teaching Chinese language and deepening cultural exchange—made it a natural place to prepare for the journey.
That foundation mattered. Years earlier, I’d already felt the magic of crossing languages in song. At a Botswana–China cultural night in Gaborone, I collaborated with the brilliant performer Lin Hui and sang the beloved classic “Mo Li Hua” (Jasmine Flower)—in Mandarin. That night is still one of my favourite memories of cultural exchange on a local stage.
A few years later, China opened its arms to me. I was invited to perform in China and even worked on a cultural‑exchange documentary project with Chinese jazz artists in Beijing—a collaboration set for broadcast on CCTV. Those sessions felt like studio alchemy: new timbres, new friends, one shared language—music. Around the same time, our Re Batswana Music Ensemble’s travel diary added “China” to a string of international stages as we shared Botswana’s music during Botswana@50 cultural celebrations—a reminder of how art stitches nations together.
One moment I carry closest: I learned—and sang China’s national anthem, “March of the Volunteers” (义勇军进行曲, Yìyǒngjūn Jìnxíngqǔ)—as a gesture of respect and gratitude to audiences who had welcomed me so warmly. For those who don’t know the song’s story, it was written in the 1930s by Tian Han with music by Nie Er, later becoming the national anthem of the People’s Republic of China; its lyric—“Arise! Those who refuse to be slaves!”—is a cry of courage that still gives me goosebumps.
Looking back, I smile at the stepping‑stones that led me there. The Confucius Institute at UB continues to nurture Mandarin learners through language and culture (even integrating activities like martial‑arts themed “Chinese corners”), which tells me that the bridge I walked is now crowded with new footsteps in both directions.
So when my two blog visitors arrived this morning—curious, radiant, and full of that familiar kindness—everything came rushing back: the late trains and later laughter, the hush of a listening room in Beijing, the erhu lines that once wove through my melody like wind over water, and the proud quiet that falls over a room when an anthem begins.
To my friends in China: 谢谢大家 (xièxiè dàjiā). Thank you for every stage you opened, every lesson you offered, and every friendship that still sings. I’m ready for the comma—not the full stop. There are more songs to perfiem together and Sephonono is looking forward to an invitation from China.
With love,
Nnunu
Nnunu Ramogotsi: Africa's Jewel 