About Murungo

We at Murungo Ano Penga Inc. are dedicated to the promotion of fair and equal trade with the hundreds of artists from the various Tribes of Africa. We have taken the interest in promoting the wonderful works of the different regions and educating a new market of people, who otherwise may never see these wonderful works of art. We feel that through this type of promotion combined with educating people of the origin of the art, people from totally different worlds can enjoy and take pleasure in each other’s culture and heritage. We have focused specifically on Shona sculpture from the Shona tribe of Zimbabwe. The Shona Sculpturing is an art form that has been passed down from elder to youth for thousands of years. We have taken it upon ourselves to bring this beautiful art to a new market in order to promote the new generation of Shona artists, and help provide them with a stable income in their rapidly deteriorating economy.

:: Article About Murungo

Local African Art Dealer Promotes Ethical Trade

By: Matt Ross & Chris O’Brien 2002

Zimbabwe – Labouring under the blistering heat of an African sun, two men painstakingly hand-transport a 145-pound stone carving.

A national fuel shortage has made motor transportation nearly non-existent. The young art dealer from Canada had few options. His newly purchased, 1-meter sculpture has to be moved from its birthplace in a small Zimbabwean village to the nation’s capital Harare. The 5-kilometre hike, an otherwise short bus-ride, feels like forever.

On the unpaved roads of this southern African country Shaun O’Brien knows one slip could easily damage the Black Serpentine rock and render the artwork, valued at thousands of dollars in western markets, worthless.

His hired help, a local lad of 14 years, was initially eager for the day’s work. In an area where unemployment hovers at 60 per cent, any work is good work. Nonetheless the boy, with aching limbs and wet with perspiration, begins to question his willingness as the grueling work wears on.

“How much further now, Mr. Shaun?” the teen questions.

“We’re halfway there,” O’Brien, replies – the journey is averaging one kilometre per hour. That means another 2-and-a-half hours of heaving, hauling and hurting under the hottest of suns.

“White man always exaggerates,” retorts the teen, frustrated by the snail’s pace at which they’re moving. “Murungo Ano Penga!”

This is just one of the extreme, sometimes dangerous, situations O’Brien has endured to ensure a sculpture’s safe transportation. It is reflective of the boy’s comment and the unusual name O’Brien has chosen for his art store in Old Glenora. “Murungo Ano Penga” translates from African Shona, as “White Man Who is Crazy.”

Now in its second year, Murungo Ano Penga is building an envied reputation in an Edmonton market district known for its eclectic boutiques and cosmopolitan crafts.

Over three years Shaun has personally selected over one thousand individual pieces of African artwork. From exquisite carvings of immense proportions, to the intrinsic detail of palm-sized figurines, magnificent wall hangings and authentic African drums, every item meticulously handmade. Like snowflakes, no two are the same.

“You won’t find knick-knacks at Murungo Ano Penga,” O’Brien stresses. “These creations are the products of truly gifted African artists.”

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Second only to the intensity of the sculptures themselves is O’Brien’s resourcefulness at obtaining them.

Traveling half way around the world, O’Brien seeks the remote African villages that are home to some of the greatest creative minds on the continent.

“The trick,” he reveals, “is to avoid giving the artist any pre-conceived notion as to what I’m looking for. That way I’m able to experience an enormous range of artwork. Eventually, something grabs me. That’s when the negotiations begin. Sometimes the purchasing process alone can take days.”

In keeping with a personal philosophy and in concert with growing public sentiment, O’Brien
believes western countries should be more committed to the industrial, commercial and democratic development of emerging nations. A very similar position has become the new focus of foreign policy in Ottawa. At the recent G-8 Summit in Kananaskis, Prime Minister Jean Chretien called on business and world leaders to “Join with committed African leaders in a new partnership of development, growth and prosperity.”

By contracting Zimbabwean craftsmen O’Brien contributes, in his own way, to the country’s commercial success and cultural self-respect.

“We in the west tend to think, because these are comparatively poor countries, that something is wrong with them. I’ve seen how world governments and non-government organizations have failed these people. Maybe it’s time we rethink our approach. Maybe even learn from them.”

Successful business dealings in many African countries require a great deal of trust. Village artisans are keen to find a ready market for their products, but they’re leery about the intrusion of white foreigners eager to profit at their expense. O’Brien has been forced to develop personal relationships with the artists he’s encountered in Zimbabwe.

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“Without that kind of personal connection,” he says, “They won’t give you the time of day.”

Less than a quarter-century since achieving independence from the United Kingdom, present political situations are still uneasy for much of Africa’s white minority. In Zimbabwe, O’Brien was keenly aware of escalating tensions prior to the controversial re-election of Prime Minister Robert Mugabe early in 2002.

Shortly thereafter a national state of emergency was declared as Zimbabwe defaulted on foreign debt, realized an acute shortage of exportable goods, made international headlines via the seizure of white-owned farms, and suffered its worst drought in a decade.

Observers, blaming the bleak balance of exports and corruption at the highest levels of government, have predicted up to half the country’s rural population could starve to death this year. Faced with that ominous prospect, the sale of Black Serpentine and Verdite stone carvings assumes a disproportionate importance.

Most western art dealers tend to avoid the time consuming process of relationship building by hiring locals to act as middlemen or agents. Too often, according to O’Brien, these agents take advantage of the artists by refusing to compensate them fairly for their months of intense work.

“Unless I know who made it, I don’t buy it,” he says, “And that can be tough because I’m cutting out the middleman who, I know, is also trying to make a living.”

O’Brien insists on actually traveling to his artist’s home villages, not only to establish personal connections, but also because of the immense educational component. He frequently finds himself three or four days outside Harare tracking down individual artworks and artists. Often, if he’s not inching a 145-pound sculpture along the back roads, he’ll backpack a 100-pound piece over rough terrain for half a day. This ensures the artist is fairly compensated and the sculpture’s quality preserved.

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“What I learn from these expeditions is incredible. It’s an experience of art and culture, but also of self-discovery. I’ve survived some scary moments. The payoff is the education. By the time I get home I’m up-to-date on the country’s politics and economy; I know what’s out there and how much it’s worth; and I’ve learned something new about finding and collecting these amazing pieces. I’ve become an expert in African art. You won’t do that by staying home and hiring agents.”

By dealing directly with the artist O’Brien better understands the creator’s interpretations. Labouriously chiseling and scraping semi-precious stone, the sculptor develops a pure motivation that transcends simple remuneration.

Many of these stones, such as 3.5 million year old, non-porous Verdite or the extremely dense Spring Stone native to Zimbabwe, are incredibly hard. In fact, some will register an eight or nine on “Moh’s Scale of Relative Hardness.” Comparatively, the world’s hardest stone – a diamond – registers only slightly higher at ten.

Over the months and even years of sculpting one piece, the artist develops a vision – foreseeing its destiny. Imagining the palaces it will adorn and the majesty of those who will admire it, he builds a relationship with the artwork as it emerges, ever so slowly, from its almost impenetrable raw material.

Eventually, as in all inspired art, each piece conveys its inspiration. Like gazing into a campfire, the observer drifts, pondering the humanity it ultimately represents. In O’Brien’s store, at different times of the day, perceptions vary with the sunlight. It is true art.

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Personally, O’Brien contends, he has no favourite.

“It depends on my mood,” he says, “They all speak differently and the communication depends on how I choose to react to it. I don’t get too attached because, eventually, each piece finds a new home. I try to keep a professional perspective.”

There is one piece, though, that even O’Brien admits to a particular fondness for. It bears a man’s profile on one side, a woman’s on the other. It is positioned strategically in front of a mirror.

“Every man’s ultimate weakness is a woman,” he explains, “Every man’s ultimate strength is also a woman. How you perceive this unusual piece reveals something very personal about you.”

At $11,000 CDN this particular piece retails in the upper end of O’Brien’s price range, although some sculptures have sold for as much as $40,000. However, prices are reflective of his buyers’ budgets and tastes – a mahogany rhinoceros for $200; iron candlesticks for as low as $35.

O’Brien admits his items are undervalued compared to the world market. He estimates prices for similar artwork at 50 per cent higher in both the U.S. and Europe. This makes it difficult to compete on the buying end thanks to the strength of the U.S. and European currencies and the size of their markets.

So far O’Brien has rejected the temptation to market his treasures overseas. For now, he says, he’s busy creating a new market in this country where, by his own count, there are but a handful of other experts trading in African art.

Regardless of how or why these commodities find their way to market, O’Brien considers them indicative of the region’s commercial potential. It is one small way in which a struggling nation seeks to establish global appeal, which, by any accounting, is a tall order indeed.

As such, Zimbabwean art is becoming the lifeblood for a people O’Brien feels privileged to support.

“That’s what makes this so special,” he concludes, “We’re not telling them what to produce or depleting a natural resource. We’re simply providing a vehicle for them to express themselves and promote their culture. I think people forget that building a global economy really means, ‘Hey, we’re all in this together!’ “

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