Mary Anibal has her hands full. Between making music, two teaching jobs, international performances and pursuing a bachelor’s degree at Midlands State University, she is performing an impressive juggling act. It’s scary, she told me over a Zoom call taken from her car, but she’s doing it anyway.  “It ain’t easy,” she admitted. “Sometimes I’m like, yoh, wow.”

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“Yoh” indeed. At just 25, Anibal is widely recognized on the music scene, partly as a back-up vocalist for the renowned musician Jah Prayzah, and she has become a household name in mbira circles. In 2025, her talent, charismatic stage presence and relentless hustle earned her gigs at Moto Moto Festival in Germany, the Abidjan Capital of Jazz Festival in Côte d’Ivoire, and Le Bal de l’Afrique Enchantée in France. Locally, she graced the stage at the European Film Festival in June. Oh, and did I mention she is a Zimbabwe Music Award winner?

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Despite her myriad of accolades, Anibal carries herself with a striking air of humility, nary a pompous bone in her body. She is full of gratitude for the experiences that have come her way, taking any opportunity to let it be known, and she is quick to give flowers to those who have guided her path, like the late and legendary Chiwoniso Maraire and Mbuya Stella Chiweshe, both of whose influences are audible in Anibal’s music. In April 2025, Anibal released “Bhonzo,” a spirited single that she wrote amidst the mire of the pandemic, when the ongoing struggles of Zimbabweans unexpectedly amplified. “I was just seeing how people were living. It was different from our previous years, where everything was so cool and free,” she said. “I started noticing how things were just happening. It was time lapsing. Things were just moving so fast. People were dying, and people were hustling.”

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Anibal’s concern for social justice is strung throughout much of her discography. You can hear it in tracks like “PARAFINI” and “NDIBATSIRE” from her debut album “Maria Wenyu,” released in 2024. This, along with her passion for preserving Zimbabwean musical traditions, is part of what drives her. She spoke to Landlocked about these principles, the lessons she instills in her students at Music Crossroads Zimbabwe and Peterhouse Group of Schools, and her musical roots. The interview has been edited for length and clarity.

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So you’re coming up on 10 years of pursuing music seriously. You started in 2016. How are you feeling about that landmark?

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Honestly, thank you so much for reminding me, because I've been pushing and pushing and pushing so hard, trying to reach those goals and trying to reach beyond. But now that you have mentioned it, I’m grateful. I'm grateful for the opportunities, the lessons. I've seen myself growing, because I used to be a shy person, and I remember I was like, “God, why did I have to be in this industry?” I always wanted to be that person who was behind the scenes, you know? But, well, he had other plans for me. Your gift will always make room for you, no matter how much you try to run away from it. It’s like a shadow. So I'm truly grateful for the journey, the challenges, the successes, as well as the trials.

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Were you shy growing up?

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Very shy, to the extent that standing in front of people, I would be like, “Yoh. Can I do this fast so that I can leave?” I grew up in a musical family, and after everybody would come back home, we would have our dinner, and we’d always sit, pray and sing. My parents had to force us to sing in church. That's how I got exposed. They’d be like, “If you’re not going to sing, you’re not going to eat.” I was that child who was forced to sing. But well, look at where I am today.

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Your family is Mozambican. Did that heritage play a role in your childhood in any way, or in the music that you used to sing?

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My grandfather on my father’s side was a drummer, and my grandmother used to play an instrument like a funnel. My grandfather was a master drummer in the Chimoio region. And then on my mother’s side, my grandmother was also a singer. I’m not so sure about my grandfather from my mother’s side. I guess I inherited it from them. And all my sisters, my older sisters — we are five in our family: three girls, and then mum and dad — we all sing. Recently, we met up as a family and sang. It brought back the memories of our childhood, how we’d sing as a family. It was really nice. You know, people were crying just because of the memories, because it was something that would bring us together.

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So music is basically in your blood because it goes so far back.

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Yes, it’s in the blood.

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You’ve mentioned that you’re quite religious. That's interesting, because you chose the mbira as your primary instrument. And I know there are some more traditional roots to the instrument. Does that tension play in your music in some way, or do you not think about that?

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I was introduced to mbira in high school, when I was doing music as my practical subject. With different modules, you are exposed to different instruments, and then you specialize later on. So the first time I set my eyes on the mbira, I was like, “Why is everybody not choosing this instrument?” And then I played it. I loved the sound. I was like, “Wow.” Because we’re used to the keyboards, the guitars. It was my first time seeing the mbira. And I’m like, I'm going to try to play this instrument. I'm going to love it, and I'm going to try to compose songs using this instrument. My older sisters were the ones who used to write songs. I was like, I'm just going to give it a try.

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But also coming from a Christian background, the mbira instrument was [considered] primitive and also evil. So I also sat down with my parents. In the [Shona language] Bible, there’s a verse that says, “Bring mbira nemudimbwa and praise the Lord,” and I used that. My dad was like, “These things are for mashavi. What are you doing?” I’m like, “It's cool. I have a module that I have to do, and I have to play, or else I'm gonna fail.” We had some conflict until I started composing gospel songs, and he was like, “Oh, yeah. It’s actually nice.”

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Then I later went to church. People were now used to us singing in church. But this time around, I went with my mbira in a plastic bag, covered it up. I just wanted to surprise people, because I didn’t know what people would say. I didn’t know how people were going to react because it was my first time playing this instrument in church, and I’d never seen people playing this instrument in church. So I took out the mbira and put the microphone in. I never asked for a jack-to-jack to connect the mbira. I just asked for another microphone, put it in, and then started singing with my sister. There was tension, but then people started accepting the instrument, because we had also mentioned the Bible verse.

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Later on, I also found confidence in my voice, in using the mbira, and I loved the instrument. It was like my escape. My argument was, if we are not going to accept the mbira, why are we using hosho and ngoma in our churches? Let's just love all our instruments, because this is who we are. We cannot run away from our culture. We cannot run away from our traditional indigenous instruments, because this is who we are. This is what makes us. If you look at guitars or flutes, they are also traditional instruments in other parts of the world, so why are we choosing them? There’s a lot of work that needs to be done in including our traditional indigenous instruments in religious spaces, so that everyone else can be exposed.

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Yeah. I find that tension so fascinating. I totally believe that we’ve sort of co-opted Western music. And instead of doing that, we can bring these traditional instruments into these spaces. We can acknowledge how they were used in the past, which is to connect with vadzimu. You can acknowledge it and then bring it into whatever space you feel comfortable in.

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You know, you are very right. Because it’s a choice. If I want to do zvevadzimu, I can simply do that. If I want to be religious, I can do that. So it’s a choice. So maybe it’s a way of encouraging parents, religious leaders, everyone, especially in Zimbabwe, to love our indigenous instruments, to love our culture, proudly, loudly. Because what leadership are we setting up for the next generation? We cannot be borrowing Amapiano and Afrobeats forever. When I travel, I’ve found that people love the instrument. I’m not saying everybody should play mbira. No. But when you travel, they always ask, “So what’s so special about Zimbabwe?” And then they’ll start mentioning names like Thomas Mapfumo, Oliver Mtukudzi, Stella Chiweshe. Done.

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Yeah. That was ages ago.

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So yeah, we really have a part to play. It doesn’t mean that everybody should play the instrument, but just having an appreciation so that when you travel across the world, you proudly present your culture. You have something to bring to the table, culture-wise.

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Mbira, it necessitates a specific kind of sound, but you sort of blend traditional folk and maybe some more pop elements in some of your songs. How did you settle on that mix?

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Well, to be honest with you, it was hard, simply because we had and we have trailblazers of this sound. We have the late Chiwoniso Maraire. Nobody will ever fit in those shoes as much as we try. Ambuya Stella Chiweshe, also. But I'll come back to Chi Chi [Chiwoniso Maraire], because she was always blending and fusing. And if you're not careful, you’ll have an identity crisis, because you’re also playing the same instrument, you know? So finding my voice was something that I was always working on, and always something that was my goal. Chi Chi really inspired me in a lot of ways, but I was also fusing my parental culture and my culture here in Zimbabwe, where I grew up. So, that has also helped me create a unique sound, if I may say so, as well as exposing my ears to listen to other genres so that I’m open-minded, not strictly sticking to the traditional vibes. But I’m young. I’m in my mid-20s, and I also have to sound “ama2k” in a way. But then also making sure the words that I write also address the issues happening in my society, creating melodies that are relevant, that are easy to listen to. The music sometimes is very sad. You will love the sound, but then you’re like, “Oh, she's talking about child abuse.” It carries a message, a lot of teachings, within the lyrics.

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Is that something that you teach your students about, using their music to talk about things happening in society, especially in Zimbabwe, where some things may be considered taboo?

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I asked the head of the school [Music Crossroads Zimbabwe] to allow the mbira to be a compulsory instrument, because students have to choose what they want to do, and if there’s a chance for them to travel around the world, what are they going to bring to the table? I know they play the guitar and stuff, but they have this cultural context, and sometimes they can borrow guitar lines from the mbira. They can borrow keyboard lines from the mbira. You can play the keyboard, but there’s a way of playing that is authentic and homegrown. So what I do is tell them, “Guys. You are guitarists. I’m asking you to play this instrument so that you’re open-minded. When you’re playing your sax, you're open-minded. If you listen to Thomas Mapfumo’s brass section, it's not a typical brass section that you can have on a jazz standard. There are some elements you can pick out that tell you it’s Zimbabwean music. Even some sungura lines, you can borrow those.”

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I always encourage students to love our music, to listen to the legends who have walked the path before us, because there’s a lot that you can learn from them. And then you can also always think about new ideas when you already have a reference. So look for somebody who inspires you. It can be Leonard Dembo. It can be the Bhundu Boys. What inspiration can you get from there? They were not playing mbira, but you can feel the elements of mbira lines from the guitars. You don’t need to hear the mbira for you to understand that this is Zimbabwean music. I always encourage them to look back: “Let's go back. Let's travel back through time and see how these guys have been performing, how these guys have been composing their music, and how best we can incorporate that in this day and age.”  We can always fuse. You can put your Zimbabwean feel in your R&B, and then you’re good to go.

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You see how also the scramble and partition was us Africans going that side, but now they're coming to us, because we now have Afrobeats. We have Amapiano. You see how Ciara is collaborating with Diamond [Platnumz]. You see how Chris Brown is collaborating with Davido. So instead of us running to them, allow them to come to us, so that we can also get those Grammys. Those little things will put Zimbabwe on the market. My two cents [Laughs].

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[Laughs] More than two cents! Zimbabwean music history is so rich.

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It is!

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I wasn’t introduced to it growing up because my family is not musical like yours, you know? And it's only now that I've been able to really dig into it and explore. How do you think about bringing Zimbabwean music history to people who are not your students? How can we teach it more?

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Well, I'll use an example of when I start off teaching mbira as a module that is compulsory. So in a class, you find that you come in, and then the students are confused. They’re like, “Why are we learning this module?” because of their different backgrounds, right? So then I will also talk about history. I’m talking about how colonization came into play and the African practices that were happening during colonization that were very bad, like the killing of twins, and the killing of [people with albinism]. But [colonizers] took away something greater: mbira. Mbira has the seven voices: Ionian, Dorian, Lydian, etc. It also has the scales, tempered scales. And I also play videos of American students who play mbira better than [my students]. I also try to challenge them to think outside the box.

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It’s just exposing them to the fact that you can love this instrument, despite your religious background. I’m Christian, but I love this instrument because it's part of my culture. Because I’m a Christian, it doesn't mean I cannot say, “Pamusoroyi.” It's an argument that we can go over and over again. Why do you remove your shoes when you’re entering the house? So in the same way, why are you demonizing our instruments, our indigenous instruments that represent us as Zimbabweans? If you go to the Ivory Coast, they’re proud of their djembes, their calabash. If you go to South Africa, they’re proud of their Zulu costumes. The Ndebele people are always — but the Zezuru, why are we not proud of our own? Over time, because of digitalization and other things, we are slowly losing [our culture]. Because Africans, we hardly document our own history. It's those people from the West who are always coming to get the information. They take it. They’re taking and taking and taking and taking and taking. And you find out now that only a few people in Zimbabwe can play the matepe mbira. The tradition is going, and people don’t want to learn. But then, when you travel around the world, you know that you don’t know anything, because a white person will be playing mbira better than you.

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How does it feel to be part of a line of Zimbabwean musicians bringing traditional music to the world stage? We’ve talked a lot about that. I think it's so important. How does it feel to be one of the people at the forefront, especially at 25, doing that work?

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Girl, I feel like it is an honour, though I feel like more can be done. Imagine I had known the mbira when I was a kid. Imagine I was exposed to the knowledge that I’m still trying to research now when I was still a kid. Imagine if maybe 10 or 20 people were at that level. Our industry would be in a better place, you know? But I'm so grateful for the opportunity, and I’m so grateful for the exposure, because it also helps you to reflect and be grateful for who you are, and also be proud of your culture. It's not everybody who wants to take up the pride of being cultural ambassadors of who they are. I'm walking in the shoes of Chiwoniso Maraire. I'm trying to walk in the shoes of Stella Chiweshe, especially those women who stood their ground to say, “We can also dominate this male-dominated industry.” I'm so happy that the work is being recognized locally and globally.

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Have you been able to find space and exercise your agency as a woman in this male-dominated industry? Have you found a support system?

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Honestly, I would say I’ve been supported, and I'm still getting support, and I also give back to the community. Whenever I get an opportunity, I always want to include women who are marginalized, because women in the rural areas don’t get the same opportunities as we do in the urban areas. So when I scout for talent, when I see someone, when I get a referral, I will track that person down and say, “Come. Let’s work together.” If you get an opportunity, that’s yours. If you win, I win. If you lose, I also lose. So sometimes I feel like we, as women, need to support each other so that we don’t wait for men to support us. That’s why [I’ve started] an initiative called HerStage. When I perform around the world, even locally, I always see men doing sound, doing stage, doing lights, etc. With HerStage, women are also included in setting up the stage, in doing stage management, in doing artist liaison, in those predominantly male jobs. When I was traveling, I noticed that women could do these jobs. A woman was actually mixing my monitors. I was shocked. I get so happy because it inspires me. I'm like, back home, people are saying it's meant for men. There are also men who are gatekeepers, and there are also women who get the opportunities, and they are gatekeepers. So whenever there’s an opportunity, we need to support each other.