Che Guevara of Bonteheuwel

http://actionkommandant.co.za/tag/nadine-cloete/

Nadine Cloete is a young South African film-maker on a mission to balance the stories about gangsters, drugs and crime, emanating from the Cape Flats. Judging by the sold out premiere at the V& A’s Cinema Nouveau theatre last night, with people begging to be let in to sit on the steps for the showing of her latest documentary, people want to hear what she has to say.

Her latest movie tells the story of anti-apartheid activist Ashley Kriel who was murdered by the South African security police in 1987, after he returned from Angola. His murderer, Jefrey Benzien, admitted to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission that he had shot the 20 year old who was handcuffed, in the back. Despite pleas to the opposite, Benzien was granted amnesty in 1999.

Kriel was from a working class neighbourhood, raised by a single mother, his father had been stabbed to death. He was conscientised from a young age to fight for what he believed was right. Nicknamed the "Che Guevara of Bonteheuwel", he influenced a generation of youth activists in his short life.

The film which debuted at the Seattle Film Festival earlier this year, tells a multi-faceted story of the young leader and is powerfully framed by discussions among contemporary students at the school Kriel attended.

The audible sobbing of Kriel’s sisters sitting a few seats from where I was, brought back with full force the trauma and wounds we have suffered and which have not been allowed to heal.

The Encounters International Documentary Film Festival is currently on in Cape Town at The Labia and Cinema Nouveau.

 http://www.encounters.co.za/ 

Towards an Archive of Freedom

Siona O’Connell is on a mission to tell the stories of growing up in Cape Town and to that end has directed and produced a number of documentaries that have emerged out of her research as a faculty member at the University of Cape Town’s Michaelis School of Fine Art and the Centre for Curating the Archive. Siona and I grew up opposite each other on the edge of District Six and share a similar background. Her work is centred on issues of identity, memory and belonging in post-apartheid SA, which all resonate with me. In the past few years she has inspired and cajoled me into exploring similar issues.

I was fortunate to be at the premiere of her latest offerings which screened at the Baxter Theatre on Thursday evening. The first documentary, An Impossible Return, deals with the forced removals from the Cape Town suburb of Harfield during the apartheid-era.

Capetonians in general seem to be unaware of the extent of the forced removals, tending to focus on District Six, but removals occurred across most suburbs subsequently declared “for whites only”. These include Woodstock, Newlands, Kenilworth, Plumstead and Simonstown. Something that had never occurred to me before was that people had to chop up furniture to make it fit into the matchbox dwellings the government moved them into. 

What I remember most about my grandmother’s removal to Mitchell’s Plain in the 1970s, was her loss of independence. Suddenly, the fiercely-independent woman who had survived two husbands, was exiled to a suburb without any infrastructure and had to ask for help to fetch her pension from the Cape Town Post Office as she could no longer get there via public transport.

The second documentary, The Wynberg 7: An Intolerable Amnesia, is a deeply moving account of the lives of the group of teenagers who became known as the Wynberg 7, after being detained during a protest march on the same day as the Trojan horse massacre in Athlone. They were sentenced for public violence, a criminalisation of the public protest.

The documentary includes original footage from the march, court case and detention. It includes interviews with a lawyer, student activist and photographers plus the family of the 7. The trauma is fresh in the minds of the family, especially for the aged mother of one of the young men, who was subsequently diagnosed with schizophrenia. She is concerned about who will look after him when she dies.

I was shocked to hear that those who hadn’t testified at the Truth and Reconciliation Commission still have criminal records. Listening to their stories and the lack of acknowledgement 30 years later, I don’t blame them for wondering whether the sacrifices they made were worth it.

The admission to the screening of the documentaries was free and open to all. The theatre was packed with more than a few who were in the theatre for the first time in their lives. The emotion was palpable and the audience rose in a spontaneous standing ovation after Siona’s powerful speech.

                                

The title of the blog is borrowed from the title of the symposium hosted by the Centre for Curating the Archive I attended last week. 

For more, see
Centre for Curating the Archive 
Story of Wynberg 7

Celebrating Africa

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.