10/08/2026
You may not have heard about the chronicles of Ringman. From Ghetto boy to Sound Lord.
Before his signature massive black mane and beard achieved full biblical character status, the man known as Ringman was just your average, lean, well toned ghetto fella.
Back then, he was an aspiring rapper whose lyrical delivery was so devastatingly off key it could induce spontaneous weeping in stray dogs. Fortunately, destiny intervened. He pivoted from murdering beats with his voice to moving mountains of speakers, proving his true superpower wasn't rhymes, but the sheer acoustics of survival.
Humble to his friends, an absolute menace to society everywhere else, he proudly forged his character in the legendary concrete cauldrons of Kanyama and Chibolya. Whether his superhuman endurance back in the day was fueled by divine providence or some highly concentrated, locally sourced "organic neighborhood herb" remains strictly classified information.
During the Muvi Posse Era, he would have doubled as Lusaka's Weightlifting Legend.
I used to sit back and watch him back then and I was genuinely baffled as the laws of physics where suspended on account of his non human strength.Where on earth did a guy with the physique of a marathon runner find the demonic strength to hoist massive Mahachi bass bins straight onto his bare shoulder?
He looked like a malnourished Hercules casually hauling away the collective sins of half of Lusaka's sugar daddies.
His focus was sharper than an eagle spotting a stray chicken.
His work ethic outstanding. While everyone else vanished into the night after a show, Ringman was left behind unpacking, repacking, and wrestling heavy gear into the back of a truck like a man possessed by the spirit of a forklift.
That kind of strength wasn't natural. Definitely enhanced by something!
Fast forward to today, and you now behold his comfortably obese version a distinguished general standing tall, casually supervising a multi racial crew and younger clones of his former lean self across practically every major music festival in the country. No concert is worth its salt without that pristine “sound sana” booming from his Sound Wave outfit.
But don't let the success fool you.
Ringman remains an angel on earth right up until you cross his path. If you have any ambitious, sticky fingered relatives, please advise them to keep a ten mile radius away from his warehouse. His security crew is so ruthlessly efficient they make a private military contractor look like a scout troop.
In fact, discipline is so fiercely guarded that his front gate basically carries a polite community notice reminding would be burglars that Copper bullets are surprisingly affordable, and wasting you won't even scratch our operating budget.
Give credit where credit is due, I know that iron clad discipline was undoubtedly whipped into him by his late, dear mother. I had the absolute honor of meeting her, a fiercely no nonsense yet deeply loving woman whose legendary Nshima Ringman and I shared on multiple occasions.
Keep shining, keep it simple, and stay legendary, my brother from another mother. Yaaaaa Mannn Sound waveeeee!!!
