Magic of Makoma: Why Africa fell in love with their gospel grooves

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I remember the first time I heard Makoma's music. It was back in the early 2000s, at a family gathering in Kampala. My cousin had just popped in a cassette—yeah, those were still a thing—and suddenly the room filled with this upbeat rhythm that had everyone on their feet.

The song was "Napesi," and it wasn't your typical slow, solemn gospel tune. It had that familiar Congolese Lingala flair, mixed with pop beats that made you want to dance while praising. I was a youth then, but even now, thinking about it brings a smile. That's the magic of Makoma. They turned gospel into something joyful, something that felt like home for so many Ugandans and Africans across the continent.

Let me take you back to where it all started. Makoma isn't just a band; they're a family. Hailing from Kinshasa in the Democratic Republic of Congo, they were formed in 1993 by Tutala Makoma. At first, they called themselves "Nouveau Testament," which means New Testament in French.

It was Tutala and his siblings: Nathalie, Annie, Pengani, Duma, and Martin. Later, a friend named Patrick Badine joined them. They grew up in a musical household, singing in church and at home, blending their Congolese roots with whatever sounds they picked up.

Life wasn't easy—civil unrest in DRC forced them to flee, first to Rwanda, then to Europe, settling in the Netherlands and later the UK. But through it all, their faith and music kept them going. It's a story that resonates with many Africans who've faced displacement or hardship, making their songs feel personal, like they're singing about our own struggles and triumphs.

Their music? Oh, it's a beautiful mash-up. They sing in Lingala, the national language of Congo, but also in English, French, Dutch, and even German. That alone opened doors—imagine a gospel song that switches languages mid-verse, making it accessible to folks from West Africa to East Africa and beyond.

Their style pulls from Congolese rumba and soukous, those infectious rhythms that get your hips moving, then adds layers of pop, R&B, soul, hip-hop, and reggae. It's not stuffy church music; it's alive, energetic, with grooves that make you feel the spirit in your bones.

Take "Napesi" from their 1999 album Nzambe Na Bomoyi (Jesus for Life)—it's got sultry melodies and beats that stir up the dust on a dance floor. No wonder it sold over a million copies and became a breakout hit across Africa. Critics loved it too; I remember describing the album as “loaded with sultry melodies and dust-stirring grooves." That's the kind of praise that sticks.

Now, why did Ugandans fall head over heels for Makoma? Uganda has always had a soft spot for Congolese music. Back in the day, artists like Franco and Tabu Ley influenced our local sounds, from kadongo kamu to the upbeat Afrobeat we hear today. Makoma tapped into that.

In 2002, "Napesi" shot to number one on Uganda's Radio Simba chart, and they performed to packed houses in Kampala. People here loved how their songs mixed faith with fun. In a country where gospel music is huge—think of artists like Wilson Bugembe or Judith Babirye—Makoma brought something fresh. Their lyrics talked about life's beauty, believing in God through tough times, and living joyfully. Songs like "Butu Na Moyi" or "No Jesus No Life" weren't preachy; they were relatable, like a friend encouraging you during a hard day.

And the energy! Their live shows were electric. On stage, you would see dancing, harmonies, that family vibe where siblings riff off each other. Ugandans, who love community and celebration, ate it up. Even after years away, when news broke of their comeback concert at Kololo Independence Grounds for New Vision's 40th anniversary in March 2026, folks were nostalgic, sharing stories online about how Makoma's tunes soundtracked weddings, parties, and church revivals.

Zoom out to the whole continent, and it's the same love story. Africa is diverse, but music unites us. Makoma became arguably the greatest contemporary gospel group on the continent. They toured Kenya, Tanzania, Rwanda, Madagascar, you name it. In Kenya, they were hailed for their ring of truth, blending gospel with commercial appeal without losing soul. Tanzanians danced to their rhythms at concerts, and in South Africa, their diaspora appeal shone through.

What hooked everyone? First, the versatility. In a place like Africa, where languages and cultures vary, singing in Lingala alongside English meant West Africans could groove to the beat, while East Africans caught the message. Second, the fusion of styles. Traditional gospel can feel dated, but Makoma modernised it, adding dance elements that mirrored our soukous and ndombolo parties.

It made faith feel young and vibrant, especially for the youth who might tune out boring hymns. Third, their humility. Despite selling millions and being superstars, they stayed grounded, and I remember, fun to talk to. In an era of flashy celebs, that authenticity won hearts.

But it's not just the music; it's the human side. Makoma's story has drama, like a real-life soap opera. Fame hit hard—family feuds, backsliding from faith, and a split that kept them apart for over 15 years. Nathalie went solo, even appearing on Dutch Idol, but the group faded. Some members struggled in Europe, far from home. Yet, they reunited recently, dropping new tracks and planning tours. That comeback? It's inspiring. Africans know about family ups and downs, and seeing Makoma heal and return stronger makes their music even more powerful. Songs like "Naleli" or "Natamboli" now carry extra weight, reminders that faith can mend what's broken.

So, what can our gospel artists learn from Makoma? Plenty, if you ask me. First off, innovate. Don't stick to the same old formula. Makoma showed how blending African rhythms with global pop can make gospel appealing to everyone, not just churchgoers. Today's artists like Pompi in Zambia or Limoblaze in Nigeria are doing similar things, fusing hip-hop and Afrobeat, but more could follow suit.

Why not experiment with local sounds—add our Ugandan beats or Swahili flows in Kenya, to reach wider crowds? Second, stay rooted in your story. Makoma's family bond, even through fights, gave their music heart. Gospel artists should humanise their work, share personal tales of struggle, like Makoma did with displacement and reunion. It builds connection; fans don't want perfect icons, they want real people. Think about it: when Wilson Bugembe sings about his orphan past, it hits differently.

Third, engage your audience. Makoma's live energy was legendary. They didn't just sing; they performed, danced, involved the crowd. In an age of social media, gospel artists can learn to build that hype. Post behind-the-scenes, collaborate across borders, tour relentlessly like Makoma did in East Africa. Fourth, embrace multilingualism.

Africa has over 2,000 languages; why limit to one? Singing in local tongues plus English can explode your reach, just as Makoma did. Finally, persevere. Their 20-year hiatus and comeback teach resilience. Fame brings temptations—money, egos, burnout—but faith and family can pull you through. For up-and-coming artists, it's a reminder: don't quit when things get tough. Rekindle that fire, like Makoma did.

I've seen gospel evolve in Uganda, from the choirs of the 90s to today's stars filling arenas. Makoma paved the way, showing that sacred music can be fun, danceable, and global. They're not just entertainers; they're a mirror to our continent's spirit. It’s joyful, determined and faithful.

As they gear up for more shows, I hope new artists take notes. Because if Makoma taught us anything, it's that good music, backed by a real story, can make the whole of Africa fall in love.