Protests Through Rap Poetry - Joshua Futura

“So for me, it’s about spreading awareness, educating, but also liberating. Because there are still kids struggling, especially with self-identity”

Images Captured By Vuyo Polson

We at VERVE have always been aware of the countless musical prodigies striving to make a mark in the industry, forging a path of their own. It’s why I was so enthusiastic about having this chat with Joshua Futura - a lyricist who not only presents his craft with such eloquence, but with such significance.

Not too long ago, Futura reached out to us to experience his release for “Glasshouse Theory.”, a five-track EP that I found myself constantly returning to and kept so near and dear to me. It truly showcased how eminent and dominant his voice could carry itself over a range of efficient Hip Hop instrumentals. Honestly, if I could rewind time and experience “From The Mud” for the first time again, I’d do it a million more times.

Following that, I knew this rapper had that spark, dropping “BEFORE THINGS FELL APART”, that had him tackling the serious discussion of the complications of xenophobia - something I’ve seen way too often around my surroundings and have learnt to understand through many conversations with those who have experienced this unsettling everyday experience.

When our fellow VERVE compatriot, Vuyo Polson, decided it was time to go back home in Jozi, I only asked him of one thing, and that was to meet Futura in person and to take a couple of shots so that an interview between us could finally happen. Obviously, that was a success and through this conversation we had with him, we were able to fully understand his mission, his experiences, his views, and his goals for his fruitful career that he has ahead of him.

To start this conversation of, what did the young life of Joshua Futura look like? What was your childhood experience like?

“So basically, I grew up in East Johannesburg. If you’re driving out of the CBD towards the east, you’re going to pass places like Hillbrow, Bertrams, and Jeppestown. I was actually born in a hospital in Parktown, but spent the first four years of my life in a neighbourhood called Jeppestown.”

“After Jeppestown, we relocated to Kensington, which is a suburb further east. The reason we moved was because we were displaced in 2008 during the xenophobic attacks that were going on. Jeppestown has a lot of hostels, and a lot of the men from those hostels were really the root cause of the violence. So we were displaced. When that happened, it was just me, my mom, my two sisters, as well as my cousin.”

“Luckily, we were very fortunate to have a big extended family in Johannesburg as a whole. We lived with our uncle in Glenvista for like a month or two while my dad was getting us ready to move to Kensington. My father used to work in football and was often abroad for that, so he wasn’t around when the incident happened.”

“We moved from Jeppestown to Kensington, and then a year after Kensington, we moved to Bedfordview. Things were looking good for us at that point because my dad had gotten a job at Supersport, which meant we could afford a better place. After Bedfordview, we only stayed there for about a year before moving back to Kensington, literally on the same street we were before, but just two houses away. We stayed in Kensington again for about eight months and then moved to Bez Valley, which is where I stay right now.”

What did moving to Bez Valley start to teach you about your views and perceptions of the country as someone with Congolese heritage? 


“I feel like moving to Bez Valley really shaped my perception and reality of what it is to be someone like me, a first-generation immigrant. I was born in South Africa, but my parents are Congolese. We’re basically the first of our kind because our parents moved here after apartheid. They were in Congo at the time, and when South Africa became liberated, they saw the opportunities here. The infrastructure looked promising, so they made the decision to move and raise their kids here.”

“But for me, that came with an identity crisis. Anyone who knows me knows I only speak English. I can’t speak French, Swahili, Lingala, or even vernac. My parents only spoke to me in English, so that became my only language.”

“Living in Bez Valley gave me an awakening. I started to realize that we immigrants face a lot of hardships, even with something as basic as getting documentation, the right way. You’re forced to go through endless loopholes, and the Home Affairs system is already difficult to navigate. You spend so much time and energy trying to acquire papers so your life can begin, but before you know it, your kids are already in matric and you’re still struggling just to secure proper documentation.”

“I’m lucky to say we had a good life for the most part, but circumstances shifted us from an upper-middle-class situation into a working-class environment. In the Valley, I’d go out, make friends in my avenue, and that’s where I picked up the slang of the area, the street terminologies. I also started seeing things firsthand, from petty gangs to street violence and drug use.”

“As tough as it was, I’m glad that shift happened because it made me more aware of the issues around me. When life is comfortable, it’s easy to be blind to the struggles happening right next to you. I’ve seen both sides. I know what a good life looks like, and at the same time, I know what a difficult life feels like. That balance shaped me and made me aware from a very young age.”

So where and when did the music influences start playing a role in your early life?

“I really didn’t get into music until I was 16, but I had been listening to a lot of it since I was about 8. Back then, we had DSTV, Trace Urban, and MTV were always on. Around 2012 and 2013, I remember seeing Kendrick Lamar’s “Swimming Pools” and “Bitch Don’t Kill My Vibe” constantly on TV. That’s how I first discovered Kendrick. At that time, Hip Hop for me was Kendrick, J. Cole, and Drake. Those were the first rappers I found on my own.”

“Even then, music wasn’t something I thought I’d ever pursue. I was fully into sports and pretty good at it. I played rugby, athletics, cricket, football, basketball, and even tried hockey for a bit. My whole primary school life was sports.”

“My dream was to go to Jeppe Boys because I had a solid rugby career as a senior in primary school. I thought rugby was going to be my path. I imagined myself playing for the Lions and even the Springboks one day. But when I didn’t get into Jeppe Boys, I was heartbroken.”

“Not long after, I went to trials at Queens High School. I actually flopped my trial there and didn’t play my best. A week later, my coach pulled me aside and said, “Listen, I know what you’re capable of. You didn’t get into Jeppe Boys, but these guys are willing to offer you a bursary. I think you should take it.” I said, You know what, fuck it, I’ll take it. I went for the interview and got accepted into Queens.”

“Queens had a huge Hip Hop culture. People there were really in tune with the latest songs and with what made Hip Hop great. We even had a dance crew that would enter competitions. That’s where I started to learn more about the genre. At the same time, I was still chasing rugby, still thinking I could become a Springbok. By the 2020 preseason, I was in the best shape of my life. I was fast, I was playing fullback, and my position was solid.”

“Then COVID hit. When lockdown started, I was like, “What am I going to do now?” That’s when Hip Hop really started pulling me in. I watched Straight Outta Compton for the first time and watched it religiously, at the same time, I’m hearing the music and being like “this is dope”. Straight Outta Compton album was probably the first I ever listened to from start to finish. I fell in love with it.”

“Being the curious person I am, I knew there had to be more to Hip Hop than just N.W.A. I started doing research and diving deeper. During lockdown, I stayed at my cousin’s place, and that’s when I went all in. I got into 2Pac, Biggie, Nas, Wu-Tang, and kept digging further. I even went back to Beastie Boys and Run DMC. I really immersed myself in the genre. That’s when I finally decided, fuck it, I’m going to try rapping.”

Is this when you properly started making music and honing your rapping abilities?

This was when I was 16, in 2020. I started trying to rap. I made a couple of songs on my phone using BandLab, just experimenting and trying to understand how people record music. I’d rip beats off YouTube, record over them, and basically teach myself because nobody was really willing to help me. I’ve always been the type to figure things out on my own. I dropped a few songs on Instagram and SoundCloud, and my friends were like, “Your flow is cool, the beat’s dope.”

Eventually, I bought a cheap USB mic off Takealot, and my mom got me a laptop. I set up a little bedroom studio, got beats off YouTube, and even tried making some myself. I ended up recording a mixtape and putting it on SoundCloud. Some friends thought it was cool, but I took it down after a week. I let self-doubt take over and told myself music wasn’t for me, so I went back to rugby. Funny enough, that turned out to be the worst season of my life. We were losing every Saturday, crying in the locker room, even though, on paper, our team looked decent.

One day at school, I was walking past a class on the third floor and saw some boys crowded around a mic and a laptop. I went in and asked what they were doing, and they told me they were recording a song. I hadn’t touched music in about ten months at that point, but I asked them to send me a beat. I recorded a verse at home and sent it back. They lost their minds, like, “We didn’t know you had it like that.” That moment reminded me how much I loved music.

I quit again, not long after, because of unforeseen circumstances. I even gave my equipment to a friend who was making amapiano at the time. I was trying to focus on football cause of my dad, but it wasn’t working out. Eventually, I realized I couldn’t fight the urge to make music. I literally sprinted to my friend’s house to get my equipment back, got home, plugged it in, found a beat on YouTube, and recorded. I posted the song on my status, and a guy named Elton replied saying, “This is dope.” That gave me confirmation that maybe I was onto something.

The first proper song I recorded was “Mind Your Business.” in 2023, then I made “Outside,” which I only released this year. The song is two years old. After that, I decided to really isolate myself. I deleted all my contacts, even family, deleted Instagram, and broke my SIM card. From winter 2023 until December 2023, nobody could reach me. During that whole period, I made a song every single day. Six months straight of recording daily. That’s when I really started progressing.

By 2024, I showed face again. People were like, “Damn, we thought you were dead, we thought you moved.” I ended up joining a collective called Food for Thought. It’s kind of dormant now because everyone’s busy with their thing. Everyone had music on SoundCloud, and I was the only one without anything out. So I took nine or ten of my favourite tracks from my time in solitude, put them together, and called it The Solitude Chronicles. I dropped it on SoundCloud, and people started hitting me up saying, “The last time I heard you, it was shit. But now something’s happening. Keep pushing.”

Cover Art For “OUTSIDE”

And that’s when you came out with “Glasshouse Theory.”, right? What’s the story behind that project?

“The reason I decided to make “Glasshouse Theory.” and actually drop it is because I had met a girl in 2024. Long story short, it didn’t go the way I wanted. That’s all I’ll say. Let’s just say I was left heartbroken.”

“After that, I was crashing out with my friend, and I kept questioning if she had been leading me on or if I just read it wrong. Instead of sitting all depressed and crying all day, I flipped that energy into making music. I told myself, let’s take this one step further and do this music thing seriously.”

“After dropping “Solitude”, I had connected with a couple of producers on Discord and social media. They’d send me beats and I’d work with them, either giving them samples to chop up or rough drafts to build on. I took all the beats I had and locked myself in my room. The first track I made was “From the Mud.” I listened back and thought, okay, shit, this is actually a dope ass song.”

“Within three days, I had the whole “Glasshouse Theory.” finished. Three days straight of recording, and the project was done.”

You’re joking…You're telling me you made that whole project in three days?

“Within three days I had the whole “Glasshouse Theory.” finished. Three days straight of recording, and the project was done.”

“Yeah, in three days, literally. I mixed everything myself, all in my bedroom. Everything about it is homegrown. I put it together, sat back, and when I was listening, I could tell it was good.”

“But at the same time, that self-doubt crept in telling me it might be whack. I remember calling one of my little homies, Jay. I told him, “Yo, listen to this.” I played him the whole EP, and he was like, “Nah, this shit’s fire. The beat switches are crazy.”

“The four songs I made in those three days were “From the Mud,” “Self-Reflections,” “Glasshouse Manifesto,” and “Green Floods.” But even then, I felt like something was missing. So I went into the archives and pulled out “Step on My Hood,” which I had made the year before. I recorded it a couple weeks after “Not Like Us” dropped because that West Coast vibe inspired me heavy. I threw that track into the project, and it fit perfectly.”

“I dropped the promos, and people thought it was dope. Then “Glasshouse Theory.” dropped, and people really loved it.”

Cover Art For “Glasshouse Theory.”

That’s actually crazy man. For my next question, the topics you chose to speak about on your latest release, “BEFORE EVERYTHING FELL APART”, you focused a lot on what many deem to be a sensitive topic that people tend to shy away from, and that’s xenophobia in South Africa. Is this your way of protesting?

“So, like I said, we’re the first of our kind in South Africa. Growing up, I’d read about apartheid, about figures like Steve Biko and Nelson Mandela. You look at them and think, damn, these were people who stood up and made real change.”

“Then I look at people like me, kids from immigrant families, and I realize our stories weren’t being told at all. Nobody was documenting the struggles we faced. So I felt like I had to take that on myself, to tell those stories so the kids who come after me will have something to look to.”

“Another reason I wanted to speak on xenophobia is because of the lack of awareness. I won’t call it ignorance, but a lot of people don’t know about the hardships first-generation immigrants, or immigrants in general, go through. I remember talking to that girl I mentioned before and trying to explain what had happened with the whole xenophobia thing. She had never even heard of it. I was shocked. That’s when I realized there are so many people like her who simply don’t know this history exists.”

“So for me, it’s about spreading awareness, educating, but also liberating. Because there are still kids struggling, especially with self-identity. I remember in primary school, a lot of us Congolese kids, or kids from other foreign countries, would deny where we were really from. Instead of saying we were Congolese or Ivorian, we’d say we were French. We were ashamed to claim our mother country. And there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“That’s why I decided to share these stories. To give voice to what hasn’t been said, and to remind kids like me that our identity is something to embrace, not to hide.”

What you’re doing is very powerful and important, because at the end of the day, this shit is really happening in the country. I feel like it’s your way of teaching the kids from different nationalities in South Africa to be proud of where they come from while also showing love and appreciation for South Africa. Even in our shoot and your other videos, you chose to wear the Bafana Bafana shirt.

“Exactly. We’re all African. It’s one love. For me, I just want to spread the message, and however people choose to take it is up to them. I’m not a politician. If someone listens to my music and it pushes them to make a real change, then I’m satisfied.”

“At the same time, I want the message to transcend borders. I don’t want it to exist only in South Africa. There are people everywhere who can resonate with what I’m saying. As long as the message reaches globally, especially the youth, that’s what matters most.”

“The youth is very impressionable. If you can make an impact on them while they’re still young, they grow up smarter, more aware, and without hatred. They grow with understanding. That’s why I target the youth with my music. To teach them one love, to move with that mindset, and to make sure what I’m creating leaves a real impact.”

Jeriah: On your latest project, “BEFORE THINGS FELL APART”, where did you find those news clips speaking on instances involving xenophobia in SA?

“Dead ass, YouTube is your friend. 
Like, there were a couple of news clips that I found on YouTube, and then there's a YouTube page called Journeyman Pictures. The Journeyman Pictures, they make documentaries from everything. Literally a couple of months ago, I was watching a documentary on surfing. Like train surfing.”

“So on Journeyman pictures, there were tons and tons of documentaries on immigration, just like immigration lifestyle in South Africa. 
So I would like to watch those documentaries over and over and over again. And I knew when I'd watched them, I knew like, I'm going to do something with these sound bites.”

“So then making the EP, I'm like, let me go back, grab these sound bites. Don't tell them because they might sue me.”


Cover Art For “BEFORE THINGS FELL APART”

One thing we’re trying to push for artists in Cape Town is to understand the importance of project rollouts. It’s so important to build anticipation for a release in creative ways because it immediately captures the audience before the eventual drop. You did exactly that with your latest offering using your old home footage while narrating your family struggles and journey. How and where did you learn to do that?

“I’ll tell you what inspired the rollout and why I did it but let me give some context from the EP first. “BEFORE THINGS FELL APART” is a prelude to my debut album “THE LND OF THE CRRPT”. That album will go deeper into the themes of immigrant life and also the reality of growing up in the hood.”

“I grew up surrounded by gang fights, school rivalries, and constant exposure to drugs and violence. When I was in Matric, I almost got jumped by 50 people one day. My best friend was killed by gun violence when I was 15. Those are the kinds of experiences I will be unpacking on “THE LND OF THE CRRPT.”

“With “BEFORE THINGS FELL APART”, I wanted to give people a glimpse into my life before everything shifted. Back when we were still living in Bedfordview, before we moved to Bez Valley. That is why the rollout used home footage. It was literally life before things fell apart.”

“The first clip was me as a kid at my cousin’s wedding. I fall on the ground, and you hear my mom saying, “Joshua, why did you do that?” That moment really showed how happy life was at the time. I was obsessed with weddings as a kid because it meant the whole family came together. All the little girls in that video are my cousins, and the last girl is my eldest sister. That was my way of showing the joy and innocence of my early childhood.”

“The second part was graduation clips. That was my mom, my dad, and my cousin Claude, who sadly passed away from sickle cell in 2019. That section was me showing how, back then, our family lived comfortably. Not wealthy, but stable. Education was the center of everything in my family. Around that time, a lot of my cousins came from DRC to study. But what I noticed was that years would pass, one, two, even six, and they were still stuck in the same position, struggling to get where they thought they would be. Not to say I am against university, but seeing that made me want to try a different route. Everyone was going to school, but nobody was a millionaire. I decided I would take the risk, be the black sheep, and try music instead.”

“The last clip symbolized where I am now. Bleaching my hair, stepping away from the norms of my family and society, saying, “I am going to do things differently.” That was me showing the progression from my childhood to who I am today.”

“The reason I approached the rollout this way is that I also work as a multimedia designer. I have an eye for design, and I know what works visually. For me, it was important not just to drop music but to build a world and tell a story that connected with people before they even pressed play.”

With the support you currently have, what’s your community like?

“Okay, so my community is very big. I’m not even talking about people online, I’m talking about the people in person. It’s huge. The whole idea of the group at first was just people pushing my music on social media. They would go into comments and spam “FUTURA SZN.” That’s actually where the name came from. But now it has grown into more than that. It’s my friends, and there’s so much creativity within all of us that in the future, I see it becoming a full collective doing different things.”

“The way the community grew was really through connections. A friend who knows a friend who knows a friend. Back in high school, I had my own circle, then I met some boys who were a couple grades below me. Funny enough, we went to the same high school for three years, but I only got close to them last year. We shared the same taste in things. One of them, Gustavo, came over to my crib one day. We chilled, we connected, and he eventually introduced me to his friends. His friends introduced me to their friends, and so on. Before I knew it, we had this growing group of people who all loved media, whether it was fashion, photography, or music.”

“At the same time, there were a handful of people supporting me online when Joshua Futura was just a concept. Maybe the first ten or so people who would always reach out and engage. I found out a lot of them were actually from my hood. I’m very open. If you’re cool, have something to offer, or just want to help, you can join the crew. That’s how the community got so big.”

“Of course, the art itself also matters. I feel like you have to be so good that people can’t help but notice you. The community will support, but the quality of the work makes them want to go even harder for you.”

“What makes this group special is that we’re all loyal, and we carry a different mindset. A lot of us are spiritual, too. Some are Christian, some are Muslim, but at the core, we’re all tapped into our spirituality. That self-awareness shapes how we move. We know there’s a bigger goal we’re working toward, and we’re committed to it together.”

You’ve been featured on Hype Magazine, iMullar, _ctrl, Pigeons and Planes, and even had the chance to work with Maglera Doe Boy for a Puma shoot. That’s a crazy amount of accomplishments which you rightfully deserve. How have you kept your head so grounded?

“I have goals, and I know where I am trying to go. I have to stick to that no matter what. Kendrick could co-sign me right now, but if that co-sign or making a song with Kendrick takes me off track from my goal, I am not doing it. Ultimately, I am my own person.”

“I am not going to be a lap dog or anything. I make sure I stay focused on my vision. Whatever I put on my vision board is what I aim to achieve. It covers different topics and priorities. I have a plan, and my job is to stick to it. Whenever I feel sidetracked or lost, I go back to it.”

“I know a lot of artists do not do this, but I set a big goal, write it down, break it into pieces, and map out how to tackle it step by step. Then six months later, I can look back and say, Oh shit, I have already done that.”

From your personal experience, what is your opinion of the current cultural landscape of your city or of the country?

“The scene in Joburg is very alive. I’ll tell you now, it’s alive. It looks like it’s thriving, but at the same time it feels a bit toxic. Everything is stuck in Braam. Literally, everything happens in Braam.”

“Even if you look at hip hop, you only see the main guys. You see Brotherkupa, JayKatana, and a few others. But the much more underground artists aren’t really getting the voice they deserve. What makes it healthy, though, is that artists are starting to build their own platforms.”

“There’s a group called 12 Dogs from the east side. They run an event series called Sessions every 4 months or so. They put together their own shows, bring out their favourite local artists, and pack the place up while raising funds to fund the next show. That kind of initiative is what I respect. Smaller artists are not just sitting around waiting to get booked at parties or festivals. They are saying, “I’m not going to be on Cotton Fest, so I’ll create my own thing.”

So where do you think the culture is heading towards then?

“I feel like there is a lot of potential for the Alt scene, especially with shows like Your Weekly Touch Up. They’re doing a great job by giving alternative artists, no matter how big or small, a stage every Wednesday and a voice in the culture.”

“The alt scene has the potential to carve out its own space. What it needs is more initiative and structure. They need a plan. Without a plan, nothing will work. Someone in that circle has to step up and say, “We are talented, some of us already have platforms, let us come together and build this into something bigger.” If that happens, one day they could even have their own stage at Cotton Fest with artists like Roho, Babble Hume, Phiwo, Keyywav, and Enocs Mae on that stage cause so far it’s mainstage, the bunker (Hiphop) & the Lot (amapiano).”

“So I think the future is very bright. My only issue is the toxicity at the top. It frustrates me when bigger artists disregard those who are smaller. I lose my shit over that sometimes, but there is only so much I can do.”

After this conversation, all I can say is Futura is the truth.

Not only did he remind me of why I fell in love with the traditional core of sentimental Hip Hop, his words alone assured me that there are still lyricists out and about trying to preach the harsh realities of the experiences that everyday citizens have to go through, via sonic poetry.

I honestly urge you to peep his discography. If you’re a fan of honest Hip Hop, Joshua Futura is definitely your man, and keep an eye out for more work from the prominent virtuoso.