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This year Africa Day arrived with a renewed sense of pride and hope for me. I have been immersed in
two electives - African Non-fiction Literature and Public Culture. African
literature focused mainly on South African books post-1994 and in many ways it
was a gift of history far removed from the history that I had been taught at
school in the 1970s. While it was painful to plough through the accounts of the
Truth and Reconciliation Commission, I was enlightened by the behind-the-scenes
revelations of the negotiation process and the run up to the first democratic
elections. I was entertained and motivated by stories of growing up in Kenya and
Katlehong – stories which give life to communities,
breaking down stereotypes and mass-labelling of people to fit into neat little
boxes. And I will look at Johannesburg with new eyes after reading Portrait with Keys, the tribute by Ivan Vladislavic.
It was Noni Jabavu’s books, published
in the early 1960s, which were a special treasure though. They are a portrait
of black life at a time when Verwoerd was introducing his draconian laws. She provides an insight into the traditions,
tribal customs and family life from a personal point of view. She
straddled two opposing worlds – her roots in the Eastern Cape of South Africa,
and her life in England, where she had been sent as a child. She shows how
we can use writing to correct the perceptions of the past, to record the voices
of the past and to help preserve the traditions which, in SA, the government
attempted to wipe out. I was very fortunate to find both her books at Clarke's in Long Street. This bookshop, established in 1956, is worth a visit if you're looking for South African and African books.
The Public Culture course looked at
curating positive images of Africa and South Africa, to challenge the colonial
stereotypes which abound. We focused on visual images along the
theme of play and were exposed to photographers, archives and exhibitions, both past and present. I had the opportunity to look at the notion of
music as a tool of resistance, at how it played a role in uniting and
strengthening the community and how it flourished and developed in spite of
oppression.
I was struck anew at how jazz can be seen as a metaphor for the melting pot which is South Africa. It has a truly South African identity shaped by many influences - music of the African people, the Malays who were brought here by the Dutch, the slaves who were part of orchestras on the farms; visiting minstrels from the US which set the scene for the still-popular coon carnival, the rich choral traditions and so on. It seems ridiculous now that there were laws governing details like whether black and white musicians could play together on a stage or perform to a mixed audience.
We have developed a rich culture of music, writing and art, and people with spirit and values. What is often overlooked is what African people are doing to help
themselves, rather than sitting back and waiting for others to come and solve
our problems. Yes, there are starving children and disease, much suffering and oppression in Africa, but this is not the only narrative.I was struck anew at how jazz can be seen as a metaphor for the melting pot which is South Africa. It has a truly South African identity shaped by many influences - music of the African people, the Malays who were brought here by the Dutch, the slaves who were part of orchestras on the farms; visiting minstrels from the US which set the scene for the still-popular coon carnival, the rich choral traditions and so on. It seems ridiculous now that there were laws governing details like whether black and white musicians could play together on a stage or perform to a mixed audience.
