Disposable hero is one of my favourite Sankomota’s songs, albeit I try not to listen to it a lot. It is melancholic yet very enjoyable. Like a pendulum, it causes my emotions to swing from one extreme end to another: from wanting to seriously weep for days for humanity to deliriously wanting to jump up and down with no care in the world.

The song is a special tribute to a soldier who fought in World War II — a relation of Frank Leepa. Of course, this fact is not explicit in the song. I imagine because the grand idea in telling the story of this one soldier, is to acknowledge all other soldiers including those who fought other wars and/or belong(ed) to liberation armies.

The song, as aptly captured by its title, is about the dispensability of soldiers when it comes to fighting any war. As bravely suggested in the song, soldiers go to war as disposable heroes or mere pawns that may or may not be crowned. Thus, whether driven by patriotism or conviction, soldiers go to war ready to make the ultimate sacrifice: to die fighting. Unfortunately, as also suggested in the song, this doesn’t preclude the possibility of “silly jokes” being made at their expense by superiors who attend “parties with fat English ladies” or “drink whiskey all day long”.

Listening to some of these statements from the powerful and magnificent voice of Tšepo Tšola has an extremely sobering effect: the very kind that makes me want to weep for humanity. More so, when I get reminded in the song that there is a mother (or a loved one) who is staring at “faded photographs on the wall”; presumably waiting and praying for one of two things: the war to end or their beloved to return home safely.

Despite the apparent undertones of melancholy, I still find the song to be enjoyable. In my opinion, what makes it enjoyable is the gentle tempo that holds one’s feet more or less rooted to the floor until towards the end when Tšepo Tšola commands to be listened to; completely and totally unaware of how captivating and powerful his voice is. This very unawareness drives me into a frenzy that forces me to euphorically chant the chorus to the very last beat.

Alas, once the chanting ends, I wonder about my own morality as I will myself to swing to a restful place emotionally. And shameful as this may sound, this takes pushing away thoughts of disposable heroes in our midst, living “disillusioned” lives as “broken souls … with backs turned against the wall”!