Manana, the Manna that keeps on giving!

By Mrs M 

My first ever interaction with Ndumiso was in December 2023, December 13,  to be precise, thanks to the United Nations. I have got to say what a fine spoken gentleman.

It was a 2-minute interaction and I was high from fake weed but let me tell you, that was the highlight of my entire life. Meeting one of the country’s best writers and exports. 

Because hey, there are artists who release music, and then there are artists who release moments. Manana has always belonged to the latter category. 

Every project he gives the world feels like a chapter in a much larger story one he writes with the calm confidence of someone who knows time is on his side. 

Now with the release of his latest body of work, ‘OBHM: Full Stop’ the Mbabane-born singer-songwriter has once again proven that he is not just part of the African music conversation, but a literal shaping of it. 

What makes Manana’s rise so striking is how quietly he has done it. No gimmicks or loud battles for relevance. 

He has built momentum the old-fashioned way through the pen, craft, discipline, and a voice that carries both ache and healing in the same breath.

At a time when the industry is drunk on speed, when songs go viral today and disappear next Thursday (quite literally) Manana moves with the stillness of someone who understands that longevity is earned, not chased.

OBHM: Full Stop is a continuation of the emotional arc he started with ‘Our Broken Hearts Mend’ but it doesn’t feel like a sequel. 

It feels like a man coming back to a room he once left in pieces and realising he finally has the strength to tidy up. 

Twenty-one tracks are no small offering. It’s generosity that artists often avoid in this era of short attention spans. 

But Manana has never created for the impatient listener. His music demands that you slow down and sit with your own truths.

One of the most remarkable things about this project is how it blends emotional vulnerability with musical maturity. 

Manana doesn’t just sing about heartbreak he unpacks it gently, layer by layer, without melodrama or pity.

His writing has always had the texture of someone who has lived enough to speak with authority, but still soft enough to remember what it felt like to break the first time.

There’s a line between confession and oversharing, and he walks it with incredible restraint.

The track ‘Embrace Me’ featuring Shekhinah stands out immediately. Their voices blend like two pages from the same diary, written years apart but still carrying the same ink. 

The song has the warmth of late-night honesty the kind that comes after the fight, after the storm.

Oh, wait do you remember ‘Isililo soThando’ a piece that stretches grief wide open. Manana doesn’t rush through the song he lets every note land slowly, like raindrops. 

The extended version gives the emotion enough space to breathe, something many artists overlook when delivering follow-up editions of already-loved songs. 

Instead of feeling like an add-on, it arrives like a completion.

If you listen to Manana long enough like my friends and I have, you begin to understand that his power isn’t just in his voice it’s in his pen ( His pen game long, no pun intended). 

Because tell me why before many people even knew his name, his writing was already living on some of the biggest stages on the continent.

His contributions to artists like Ami Faku, Amanda Black, and Sauti Sol reveal a storyteller gifted in ways that stretch far beyond his own catalogue. 

And of course, there’s the global recognition that came with his work on Burna Boy’s Twice As Tall. Now to understand how monumental OBHM: Full Stop is ( sorry but that Instagram post had me crashing out). 

You have to understand where Manana comes from. Eswatini may be small, but it has birthed some of the most quietly influential artists in Africa. 

There is something about growing up here that shapes a person’s relationship with art. Maybe it’s the quiet of our landscapes, maybe it’s the choir tradition, maybe it’s our particular blend of humility and ambition. 

Whatever it is, you can hear it in Manana’s voice. Even after years abroad and an international career, he sings with the softness of home.

His time at Drakensberg Boys Choir is written all over his harmonies layered, precise, and intentional.

That training never left him. Many artists sing but boy oh boy Manana constructs. 

Every harmony feels measured. Every progression feels considered. Musical intelligence you can’t fake.

Across the new project, he explores themes that are both deeply personal and widely relatable, his niche honestly which is forgiveness, closure, longing, the quiet fear of love failing again.

However please note how he approaches them with the maturity of someone no longer interested in being dramatic for effect. 

The pain is there, yes, but it’s handled with the tenderness of someone who has done the internal work.

And maybe that is why this project feels like manna (don't act like you don't see my punchline), replenishment, provision for the soul. 

Something is healing about hearing a man speak openly about the things society teaches him to swallow. 

In a world where men are raised to hide softness until it rots into anger, Manana’s honesty is a rebellion in itself.

The more you listen, the more you realise his music is not trying to impress you. It’s trying to reach you. There’s a difference.

Many artists build for applause, Manana builds for connection. That is how he has managed to remain relevant without ever shouting for attention. 

That is why audiences from different parts of the world hear their own stories in his work. That is why this new release already feels timeless.

If 'Our Broken Hearts Mend was a wound being cleaned, OBHM: Full Stop'  is the scar forming still tender, still sensitive, but finally closed. There is relief in that. 

There is hope. There is the quiet satisfaction of knowing you survived yourself.