On the evening of February 10, 1990, a few hours prior to Nelson Mandela’s release from Robben Island, Nkosinathi Innocent Maphumulo’s life was irrevocably altered.
Maphumulo, better known by his stage moniker Black Coffee, appeared on “The Diary of A CEO” to discuss his path to being one of the most successful and in-demand DJs. The paralyzed arm of Coffee was the most intriguing component of the hour-long episode.
“For years, it was difficult for me to convey this experience,” he added. “I’m in a better place now where I’m able to talk about it.”
The 45-year-old DJ went on to describe how that evening, following dinner, he and his cousins heard people marching and singing in celebration of Mandela’s impending release.
On this particular day, despite his grandmother’s strictness against letting them out at night, she permitted them to go outside to observe the displays of rejoicing.
Shortly thereafter, his cousins returned to the house, but 14-year-old Coffee remained outside to savor the event.
“The crowd was heading to a stadium near to my residence. There was going to be camping and singing into the morning. They were essentially assembling more masses on the streets, and we were now near to the stadium.”
Then, out of nowhere, a car approached them at high speed and plowed through the crowd. “I was not in the front, but I was approximately 20% of the way in when I passed out.” When I awoke, people were yelling and there was fire; they were enraged.”
“Essentially, this guy turned off his headlights to murder people with his car. So they destroyed the vehicle and the man as well.”
The DJ then says that he was rushed to the hospital, and upon his return a few hours later, he discovered the driver’s burnt body still exposed on the side of the road.
“I do not believe that the automobile reached me. I do not believe it affected me. I believe it was due to the influence made by the folks in the lead, who pushed so vigorously. So what transpired was a major dislocation of my shoulder. There were no injuries or cuts; it simply fell off. In other words, the nerves that attach my arm to my body snapped.”
“Being in a small town, no one knew what to do when I went to the hospital. So here I am, cradling my arm. They didn’t know if it was broken or what to do with it, so they gave me a sling and pain medication, and I went home.
But the suffering never abated. The next day, he left his community of Ngangelizwe in Mthatha and traveled to Durban, where he spent three months in a hospital. However, they had no idea what to do either.
“The injury is known as brachial plexus, which is nerve damage. There is nothing that can be done to repair damaged nerves; they must heal themselves.”
He went on to say that his arm movement and sensation have improved by around 40%.
“Even now, if I woke up and everything was good, do I really need it? This is where I am. It is essentially irrelevant.”