Jerusalema: How a Global Hit Became a Symbol of Hope—and a Battle Over Royalties

From a South African house track to a global anthem, “Jerusalema” inspired millions during the pandemic. But behind its success lies an unresolved royalty dispute exposing deep flaws in the music industry.

Jerusalema: How a Global Hit Song Sparked an Unresolved Royalty Battle

When Angélique Kidjo earned a Grammy nomination for Best Global Music Performance for her reinterpretation of “Jerusalema,” it confirmed what the world already knew: the song has become a modern anthem. Kidjo’s rendition, rich with orchestral depth and spiritual weight, elevated the South African hit from a dance-floor phenomenon into a sacred, concert-hall experience. Yet, even as “Jerusalema” continues to soar, its extraordinary journey is shadowed by unresolved royalty disputes that reveal persistent inequities in the global music industry.

The story of “Jerusalema” began quietly in Limpopo, South Africa. In 2018, a young producer known then as Master KG—now Wanitwa Mos—created a beat that lingered in his mind for months. By August 2019, the track was complete, but it lacked a voice. He reached out to Nomcebo Zikode, whose soaring, emotive vocals transformed the instrumental into something transcendent.

Built on the rhythms of Bolobedu House, the track blended muted kicks and claps with gospel-tinged synths. Its structure was deceptively simple—loop-driven, restrained, and meditative. Zikode’s lyrics spoke of a distant home, a place of peace: “Jerusalema ikhaya lami / ngilondoloze / uhambe nami / zungangishiyi lana” (“Jerusalem, my home / save me / walk with me / don’t leave me here”). The song did not rely on dramatic crescendos. Instead, it invited reflection, allowing its devotional pulse to carry listeners toward something hopeful.

Master KG uploaded the song to YouTube in October 2019. Within days, it began trending across platforms. By the festive season, “Jerusalema” was everywhere in South Africa. Children sang it word for word. Taxis blared it. Churches embraced it. It was already a national treasure before the world even noticed.

Then came 2020.

As the pandemic shuttered borders and silenced streets, “Jerusalema” became the soundtrack of a world in waiting. In February, an Angolan dance studio, Fenomenos do Semba, posted a video of dancers moving in unison while carrying plates of food. The clip ignited the #JerusalemaDanceChallenge. Nurses, pilots, monks, nuns, factory workers, and office staff joined in. Locked-down bodies found release through synchronized movement. The song crossed languages, cultures, and continents, becoming a portal of shared joy in a time of collective grief.

By July, “Jerusalema” was the most Shazamed song on the planet. Burna Boy joined the remix in October, expanding its global reach. Acoustic covers emerged across Europe. What began as a South African house track had become a universal hymn.

But as the world danced, cracks appeared behind the scenes.

In 2021, it emerged that Nomcebo Zikode had not received royalties proportional to the song’s earnings. Her claims exposed long-standing power imbalances in producer-driven genres, where vocalists—often women—are under-credited and underpaid. The dispute with Master KG’s label, Open Mic Productions, played out publicly. The narrative around “Jerusalema” shifted from a feel-good miracle to a cautionary tale: global success does not guarantee fair reward.

Further complications followed. In 2022, producers Charmza the DJ and Biblos filed legal claims, alleging that elements of the song originated with them and that they were neither credited nor compensated. What had once symbolized unity now revealed the fragmented realities of ownership, contracts, and recognition in the modern music economy.

Although Zikode and Open Mic Productions reportedly reached a private settlement, the controversy did not end. In May 2025, South Africa’s High Court in Pretoria dismissed related applications and ordered the applicants to pay costs. Zikode and her management company, Emazulwini Productions, described the judgment as “flawed and troubling,” stating that she had still not received any recording royalties for her contribution.

“Despite her pivotal role in a cultural milestone that united and inspired millions across the globe,” their statement read, “she continues to face a lack of transparency and meaningful accountability from those who have profited from her work.”

It is against this backdrop that Angélique Kidjo’s version arrives with such resonance.

Kidjo strips “Jerusalema” of its club-oriented roots, leaning instead into orchestral swells and choral grandeur. Performed in formal concert spaces—including Notre-Dame in Paris—her rendition amplifies the song’s spiritual undertones. In her hands, “Jerusalema” becomes liturgical, aligning with her lifelong mission to bring African music into global institutions without erasing its origins.

Her Grammy recognition for 2026 underscores not only her enduring influence but also the song’s remarkable evolution—from a Limpopo beat to a worldwide prayer. Yet the contrast is stark. While “Jerusalema” ascends into concert halls and award ceremonies, the artists who gave it life continue to navigate opaque systems and contested rewards.

The song’s power lies in what it represents: a home beyond fear, a promise of togetherness. But its business story tells another truth—that the structures governing global hits often lag behind the ideals those songs inspire.

“Jerusalema” united the world in motion. Its legacy now challenges the industry to move as well—toward fairness, transparency, and respect for every voice that makes a global anthem possible.

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