Miriam Makeba, 76, Singer and Activist

Miriam Makeba, the South African singer whose voice stirred hopes of freedom among millions in her country with music that was banned by the apartheid authorities she struggled against, died overnight after performing at a concert in Italy on Sunday. She was 76. Widely known as "Mama Africa," Ms. Makeba was a prominent exiled opponent of apartheid since the South African authorities revoked her passport in 1960 and refused to allow her to return after she traveled abroad. She was prevented from attending her mother's funeral after touring in the United States. Although Ms. Makeba had been weakened by osteoarthritis, her death stunned many in South Africa, where she was an enduring emblem of the travails of black people under the apartheid system of racial segregation. It ended with the release of Nelson Mandela from prison in 1990 and the country's first fully democratic elections in 1994. In a statement on Monday, Mr. Mandela said the death "of our beloved Miriam has saddened us and our nation." "Her haunting melodies gave voice to the pain of exile and dislocation which she felt for 31 long years," he said. "At the same time, her music inspired a powerful sense of hope in all of us. "She was South Africa's first lady of song and so richly deserved the title of Mama Afrika. She was a mother to our struggle and to the young nation of ours." Mr. Mandela's was one of many tributes from South African leaders. As a singer, Ms. Makeba merged the ancient and the modern, tradition and individualism. Her 1960s hits "Qongqothwane," known in English as "The Click Song," and the dance song "Pata Pata," which would be remade by many other performers in the next decades, used the tongue-clicking sound that is part of the Xhosa language her family spoke. Traditional African ululation was also one of her many vocal techniques. With tenderness, righteousness and playfulness, Ms. Makeba sang love songs, advice songs, spiritual songs, anti-apartheid songs and calls for unity. In bringing African music to other continents, she was a pioneer of what would be called world music, reworking her own heritage for listeners who might never hear it otherwise while creating fusions of her own. As an exile Ms. Makeba lived variously in the United States, France, Guinea and Belgium. South Africa's state broadcasters banned her music after she spoke out against apartheid at the United Nations. "I never understood why I couldn't come home," Ms. Makeba said, as quoted by The Associated Press, during an emotional homecoming in Johannesburg in 1990 as the apartheid system began to crumble. "I never committed any crime." Music was a central part of the struggle against apartheid. The South African government censored many forms of expression, while many foreign entertainers refused to perform in South Africa and discouraged others from doing so in an attempt to isolate the white authorities and show their opposition to the regime. Ms. Makeba wrote in 1987: "I kept my culture. I kept the music of my roots. Through my music I became this voice and image of Africa, and the people, without even realizing." Yet to Ms. Makeba, her music was never intended to further a political agenda; it was far more personal than that. "I am not a political singer," she told The Guardian. "I don't know what the word means. People think I consciously decided to tell the world what was happening in South Africa. No! I was singing about my life, and in South Africa we always sang about what was happening to us–especially the things that hurt us."