the last picture |
Those who knew
him vouched for his earnings’ legitimacy, while those who stood at a distance —
including the taxman — held their doubts.
A child at
heart, Genius Kadungure loved playing. Only that his toy collection ran into
millions and his playground was an elite nightclub he owned and loved.
In urban
nomenclature, Ginimbi was a Mbinga, a person of comfortable means. Addicted to
the camera, his happiness would be palpable with a lens pointing towards his
face, even mobile phone cameras made him happy; this is how he became a meme.
On his
Instagram, he had set-up Ginimbi TV, which provided comic relief for internet
users, especially during the early Covid-19 lockdown days when he used to host
twerking contests once a week.
It was a crazy
platform; the only rule was that there were no rules. Ginimbi so loved the
camera that he got a permanent photographer for his nightclub, Dreams. He
wanted to sell the Dreams lifestyle and felt images would be central to his
goal.
The man he
entrusted with the role, Kirkpatrick Chidamba, was to become the last person to
take images of him and fitness bunny, Moana, about two hours before their fatal
car crash.
It is a day
Chidamba is struggling to take off his mind, those around him are still afraid
of bringing up the conversation in his presence. Unlike others who have tried
to tie together events in the club with the fatal events of that Sunday
morning, he says the day to him was routine.
The videos and
images shocking people on social media were, in his view, are a reflection of
one of the most uneventful days at Dreams. The day now holds a different weight
to him than it did when he took a picture of Ginimbi at 02:33am on November 8,
just a few hours before the fatal car accident. That was the last time G, as he
was known in his circles, smiled for the camera.
“My aperture
was at F3.5, ISO 400 and my focal length was at 18 millimetres,” recalls
Chidamba.
“I used a speed
light.” Those who appreciate photography know that on a 50 millimetre lens in
low light, an object captured under those circumstances would appear the
sharpest in an image.
On the day,
Chidamba decided to take candid pictures of Ginimbi without asking him to pose,
as it would have meant disturbing his boss who was having unbridled fun.
“He entered the
club just after midnight, but I only got to enter his VIP booth at around
02:30am to take pictures of him,” he said.
“He was in a
good mood. Some champagne had just been delivered to the table and he was
ensuring everyone’s glass was full. I tried to be candid as I took my shots,
but he noticed me and smiled as I took my last one.”
It appears
Ginimbi would not go to Dreams only to have fun, partying came as an appendage
to him being a present business owner, he loved to know the intricacies of the
club. “He loved the club scene, his club scene,” said Chidamba.
“Sometimes he
would come to the club early. At some point being the first to sit in the VIP
Booth. He would move around most booths having conversations with his
clientèle. He believed in the “fadza mutengi” (customer is king) business
philosophy. On occasions he would check the sound quality as well as the
lights. “On standards, he always strived to ensure that the brand remained
locally competitive.”
The club was
launched as Sankayi, but was renovated and rebranded to Dreams when it started
appearing like it was lagging behind competitors like Pablo’s, which drew
patrons from the same pool.
“This was a
well-travelled guy, he had expectations of how the club should present itself,
that he personally micro-managed,” Chidamba said.
Taking images
of Ginimbi was to Chidamba too easy, as the late seldom interfered with
creative processes.
“He really did
not demand a lot,” he said. “He would follow my lead as I directed the shots.
He preferred wearing shades in most of his shots. For some reason, he trusted
that I would do a good job and a thumbs up at the last flash of the speed light
was all the assurance he needed.
“Ginimbi’s love
for Rhumba and old school Reggae music was clear from the way he reacted when a
DJ played those genres. He was a free spirit, some people would come to the
club just to spend time staring at him.”
Did Ginimbi
ever get agitated?
Even as he was
facing his smuggling charges, he would wear his smile as he walked through the
doors at Rotten Row Courts. Those who worked close to him speak of rare,
isolated days he lost his cool.
“Ginimbi rarely
communicated his displeasure when it came to the photos and it was mostly done
through a member of the management,” said Chidamba.
“There is a day
though, during a meeting, he asked me if I would go to a club which showed a
particular image I had taken. It was a hard pill to swallow.”
Throughout
Chidamba’s time shooting at the venue from the first day, he was a witness to
what he describes as “acts of immense kindness.”
After quitting
his job and deciding to take up photography, Chidamba’s first gig became the
biggest career move he would make. “It was around June 2018, a few days after
my birthday,” he said.
“I got a call
to go to the club, which was Sankayi then. I met him downstairs and he told me
to go upstairs and get equipment, it was Ginimbi’s birthday on this day.
“This marked
the beginning of my photographic career.” Ginimbi gave a novice photographer a
chance of a lifetime to gain his skill shooting for one of the biggest
entertainment venues in the country. Many would have gone for tried and tested
names, but Ginimbi was a man who confronted the usual for a living.
“This man
allowed me to grow and experiment with my craft, with his space, time and
resources, that’s a lot to give,” said Chidamba.
With loads of
footage accumulated through an average of two shoots a week, Chidamba says he
is waiting to be guided by Dreams Club on how some of the key content can be
properly packaged and distributed.
“Genius’ images
are not too many in my archives, but they are some of the most significant
photos I have,” he said. “On some, I could have done better, but I think I
caught him in some of his happiest moments.
“I will be
working in consultation with the club, but I am hoping to frame a few of his
pictures for future exhibitions. It would be nice to showcase the images I took
of the man who led me down the path of my current passion.”
On the fateful
day on Sunday, Chidamba left the club at the same time as Ginimbi, just before
5am, as they gave each other a promise they would meet on the day in the
evening.
“I left the
club around same time as he did,” he said. “Everything was normal, I expected
to see him at Madd Sundays, a reggae session we always held on Sundays.
“I had plans to
sleep through the day, but as I tried to nurture my doses, the terrible phone
call came through.” Even up to now, the Ginimbi story is a tale he is
approaching with caution.
Chidamba
regrets chasing the perfect shot at the expense of conversations with one of
the most novel names to ever emerge in Zimbabwe’s social spaces. “Maybe I
should have talked to him more, got to understand him better,” Chidamba mused.
At least
Ginimbi smiled through his final day and Chidamba has images to prove that. Chidamba
was a man who followed G with one eye and it made his most powerful body of
work, the most painful. Herald
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