GABORONE — Some men craft because they must. Some because the world has demanded it of them. And then there are those who craft because they have no language for anything else, and this is where you’ll find Zenzo Ngqobe: somewhere between silence and song, in a country not entirely his and a body still learning how to pray.
Ngqobe, 41, emerges again, not reborn, not rebranded, not even returned, but still here, anchored in his latest role as Ace in the
upcoming experimental feature MOITOBO (2026), directed by Botswana’s Donald Molosi and produced by CattlePost Films. Ace is a man bound by continent and kin, grappling with a brother who is both distant and gay, both beloved and unknowable. It is a role that demands the actor confront the rawest threads of masculinity, geography, and love. But Ngqobe has never run from the difficult. He has only ever run toward the craft. “I try my best to do things that I love in life. As far as career… I’m happy always when I get an opportunity to craft… I’m happy.”
This happiness is not the Western Instagram kind, not a beach-in-Bali grin or a TED Talk on mindfulness. Ngqobe speaks with the vocabulary of someone who knows how hard it is to be Black, southern, male, and soft, and still stay whole. There is no hurry in him. Only
breath. “I think now I have lived long enough to learn about patience… I understand more now… than the early days… I’m more patient.” Time has not smoothed him, but clarified him. In an industry where actors are too often asked to be something else, thinner, louder, less, Ngqobe appears to have made peace with being exactly what he is.
He begins every role not with the script, but with the spirit. “For every role I come across… I ask from God to cover me with all the emotions needed in the role… for I’m learning to walk in another man’s shoes. Then ask for blessings from my ancestors. I believe I am nothing without faith and spirituality… God is always central.” That line, learning to walk in another man’s shoes, is not just acting. It is a reckoning with history. Colonialism, masculinity, queerness, violence. In
MOITOBO, he plays a man standing in the eye of all these storms. His brother leaves Botswana. His brother is gay. His brother is the mirror he cannot face. And yet, there is no judgment in his portrayal. “I’m not homophobic myself… having to travel and work in the industry I’m in… taught me a lot, mostly about life. All things are relative.”
For years, Ngqobe kept music and acting in different rooms of the same house. “I have always separated music and acting… because my approach is not the same. Soon as I prep for a role… I shut down the music.” That separation is softening now. He is working on a self-penned musical and stepping fully into the tension and potential of both forms. “I am currently learning to do both together… since I’m working on a self-penned musical. Also, my music will always be in my films. I’m doing music not only to win awards or belong, but to keep crafting.”
He doesn’t need to belong. Not to award shows, not to trends. He makes work that remembers us, the us that existed before we were postcolonial subjects or hashtags. This is why, when he reflects on Presley Chweneyagae, his childhood friend and co-star in the Oscar-winning Tsotsi, he doesn’t reach for sentimentality. “A talented and funny brother… my artistic comrade.” The same simplicity, the same quiet respect, comes when he speaks of his collaborator on MOITOBO, Donald Molosi. “It’s amazing how we manage to work remotely and get the work done. It shows a great craftsmanship… I believe we inspire each other.”
The film also grapples with the tensions between those who remain on the continent and those who leave. This, too,
Ngqobe speaks of without romanticism. “I don’t think they completely understand… remember they haven’t been anywhere except in the continent. They will differ.” The sentence feels as much about family as it is about nation. MOITOBO’s diasporic disillusionment echoes across many postcolonial borders.
Politics isn’t theoretical in this film. It pulses in the body. When asked about African governments and whether they are fulfilling their responsibilities, Ngqobe doesn’t dismiss the question. He simply sighs through it. “I can only say I believe they try… only that we don’t know how long it will take for us to see the kind of change we hoping for… the fulfilment we looking. Great responsibilities.”
If the government were to give him P5 million to support youth in the arts, he wouldn’t buy cameras or studios. He would
build a structure. “I would start with training and development… equip the youth with the necessary tools… and finding placement by creating a production that will create job placement opportunities for them… once they are done training. Then look for more funds for job creations and sustenance.” It is not just an answer, it is a blueprint. A refusal to let the next generation start from scratch.
When asked whether his personal love life has impacted his work as an actor, Ngqobe was clear: “Poor performance can only be the order of the day only if you permit matters of the heart to hamper your soul.” He does not romanticize his roles or his feelings. “I always separate myself from my roles… I don’t compare myself with my characters. I find a way to build a wall… I don’t recall.” For Ngqobe, the wall is not a wound. It is a boundary. And
sometimes, a boundary is what makes the performance holy.
Zenzo Ngqobe is not auditioning for approval. He is not campaigning for your empathy. He crafts. He prays. He separates. He returns. He is not waiting to be understood. He is waiting to be true.
