If you’ve ever attended a South African wedding and didn’t dance to O Nketsang, did the couple even get married?
This cheeky question sets the tone for the centenary celebration of Gallo Music, the legendary label whose tunes have made their way into every festive celebration in our country.
Gallo turns 100 on Saturday, and what better way to mark this milestone than with a story about O Nketsang, a song that made Mzansi move and laugh, by the inimitable Michael Morake “Rex” Rabanye?
Tumi Rabanye, his daughter, has the type of childhood memories that would make any music lover jealous: afternoons in Mafikeng spent with jam sessions in the garage, band members hanging around and a music room with an organ, a synthesiser and a drum kit.
“I fit so easily in the music world!” Tumi laughs, recalling how she and her sister Lerato composed songs as kids while her father and his friends created music.
“I thought every home had a wall unit for vinyls and law books, golden discs on display and jam sessions in the garage.”

Rabanye was more than just a musician. He was a servant leader, an affectionate father and a man who followed his creative calling no matter what the world said.
“He didn’t hide what he was dealing with,” Tumi remembers. “What you saw is what you got.”
From studying law at the then University of Bophuthatswana to moving his family to Mafikeng, Rex made decisions that left a lasting impact. He was eccentric, open-minded and deeply passionate about music and family.
“If you listen to O Nketsang, it’s so anomalous — it doesn’t follow rules; it creates them. That’s my father’s personality,” says Tumi.
O Nketsang was not the chosen single from the album of that name when it was released, but it soon became an enduring wedding staple.
Watching teens, 20-year-olds and their parents dance in unison to that song even to this day is mind-blowing.
— Tumi Rabanye
Gallo had their eye on another track, Falling Leaves, says Tumi. But O Nketsang was soon inspiring dances like the Codesa step at weddings, parties and celebrations.
“Watching teens, 20-year-olds and their parents dance in unison to that song even to this day is mind-blowing,” marvels Tumi.
“The song became more than just a hit; it became an anthem — and dare I say, a tradition?
“My family and I always count how many calls we get every year from September onwards [Rabanye died on October 10 2010]. They come at 2am from friends and relatives showing videos of wedding parties dancing to O Nketsang. There was even a Dutch couple dancing to it.”

Rabanye’s music wasn’t easy to pigeonhole. In the zeitgeist of his time, it was labelled as “bubblegum”, a term both affectionate and, as Glen Lewis recently noted, slightly derogatory, Tumi says.
But Rabanye broke all the rules. He blended gospel harmonies with contemporary synthesiser sounds, pop and the musical flavours of the era.
“There was no genre like that until he created it,” says Tumi.
Some have even called O Nketsang the original amapiano. Rabanye just used the synthesiser and skipped the lyrics. The result? A sound as unique as its creator. It is category-defining, boundary-breaking and impossible not to dance to.
The Rabanye household was a haven of creativity. The music room was standard, jam sessions were frequent and collaboration was the norm. Tumi remembers her mother, a diligent school principal, balancing work and home with grace.
“You couldn’t have more differently wired personalities that could collaborate,” she reminisces.
Even as Rabanye grew ill, he kept playing music, using sensation rather than hearing after a stroke robbed him of his ability to hear notes.
“He was my father and my best friend,” Tumi says warmly.

There was always affection in the Rabanye home. Pet names, laughter and music filled it — even when disagreements arose, terms of endearment never changed. Rabanye’s golden discs and catalogue were embedded in the heart of the family.
The DNA of his music, like Somlandela and African Wedding, is unconventional yet unforgettable. Thanks to TikTok and modern technology, these classics are finding new audiences.
“The real power lies in the catalogue,” Tumi says. “It is dignified to stand the test of time.”
As Gallo celebrates its centenary, it’s time to reappraise how music labels see themselves, not just as businesses, but as repositories of history and culture.
“Gallo is a repository like that,” Tumi notes. “It is embedded in our hearts.”
The legacy of Rex Rabanye and O Nketsang is proof that music isn’t just entertainment. It is a cellular experience, a tradition and a unifier. The song moves generations in unison, without rehearsal or preparation.
So, whether you’re a music lover, a wedding dancer or someone who just likes a good story, raise a toast to Gallo Music and the magic of O Nketsang, the song that made us all family.





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