Did I mention before that I put together and taught a course this past summer called "The Music of New York"? If not, I should blog about that sometime.
Right now, though, that is long over, but I've been asked to do a guest-lecture for my friend Rachel's Art of Listening class on Thursday, and so this post is just to gather in one place some of the videos and etc that I plan to use.
World Map
Drakensberg Boys' Choir
Lebo M Rainmaker
Lebo M Power of One
Ladysmith Black Mambazo
Ladysmith Black Mambazo and Paul Simon
Paul Simon Father and Daughter (from the Wild Thornberries movie soundtrack)
Johnny Clegg and Juluka Impi
The Lion Sleeps Tonight (Tokens)
Solomon Linda's Evening Birds Mbube
Pete Seeger and the Weavers
Freshly Ground I'd Like
Karen Zoid Kaapstad
Karen Zoid Small Room
The Parlotones Colourful
Bok Van Blerk De La Rey
Klopjag Nie Langer (for the students who asked about this, this is an angry post apartheid song. I couldn't find the angry apartheid-era song I played in class today online, but I'll keep looking and post it, or something similar, when I find it.)
Showing posts with label African Identity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label African Identity. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
Saturday, March 03, 2007
In which the New York Times features
De La Rey made it onto the front page of the New York Times on Tuesday. I have been having a really hard time writing about it (partly because blogger refused to post and then lost the first draft I put together, though I think that that one didn't make it online is probably a good thing). I find it so hard to strike a balance between self-righteousness and utter naïveté on this issue. My advisor really knows what she is talking about when she says I need to read to develop the vocabulary I need to write. But quite honestly, why is it so difficult to write about Afrikaans culture? While I wouldn't put the song up there among my favourites, I quite like it. As enough people have said before, it is a catchy tune. And I do like the strategy of reclaiming a pre-apartheid history for Afrikaans. I do not align myself with a right-wing perspective, though, and recognize the capacity within this piece of music for alignment with causes I think are fundamentally flawed. But how to find the middle-ground....
It seems to me the pivot point is somewhere around the issue of the old South African flag, and most specifically the colour orange. When the new South African flag was chosen, it was stated specifically that the colours had no specific symbolism, aside from their use in some of the many previous flags that had been associated with South Africa. In general, the red, white and blue reference the Union Jack and the old SA flag, while green black and yellow recall various struggle organizations flags, including that of the ANC. The one colour that was excluded was the orange that had formed the lower bar on the old flag. The word "Orange" was also left off the new name for the province formerly known as the "Orange Free State". It was, however, adopted by the residents of Orania, a Northern Cape Afrikaner town with aspirations of independence. And I have vague (and I suspect unconfirmable) memories of orange being associated with a "no" vote during the 1992 referendum that led to the end of Apartheid. Is that too much symbolic weight to put on a single colour? I also have a remembered association between a horrendously violent act filmed and broadcast by the South African media in the 1980s, and the green, yellow and black flags that hid the faces of the perpetrators. What types of violence get demonized or justified by the state, and under what circumstances? The way that colours and flags get handled here, in the US, is very different from the way they are considered in SA, but in experiencing the American consideration of their flag, I think I am beginning to understand not why, but at least how, a flag can become such a contentious issue.
To return to the music, though, I must point out that none of the reports I have linked to yet note that the original statement by the Department of Arts and Culture, which seemed to ignite the already smoldering controversy, was not in fact a spontaneous effusion, but was issued at the request of the Afrikaans magazine Huisgenoot. The issue was then picked up by the FAK (which is where I first encountered it), and then by the national press, including the newspapers I have already linked to. The Blue Bulls Company then allegedly censored the song during rugby matches at Loftus Versveld, and then revoked that decision in the face of public outrage, though the company deny that any official decision along those lines was ever made, and claim that the song was played at last weekend’s match at Loftus.
Now is it just me, or does it begin to look like the controversy is really being fomented among white (I might even go as far as to suggest primarily Afrikaans) commentators? The DAC statement is pretty nonchalant in comparison to the FAK reaction, while the report in the Afrikaans newspaper Beeld, that I translated previously is significantly more agitated and even potentially inflammatory than that issued by the Citizen, or any of the other newspapers I have linked to. The New York Times buys into the ominous pessimism of the Beeld article somewhat more than the equivalent English South African press, but the assumptions made by that article about connections between Afrikaans culture and apartheid (no, they are not the same thing), and the direct connection, almost equation, drawn between De La Rey and Hendrik Verwoerd (most notably by the fronting of the article with a photograph of the diminutive statue of Verwoerd that overlooks Orania) which indicates the lack of subtlety concerning Afrikaans history that is precisely what this song and its popularity seem to be responding to, somewhat undermines the credibility of that report. I would suggest, though, that the noisy enthusiasm with which the Afrikaans community has opened this debate, indicates a strong desire to be heard. Michael Wines, the New York Times journalist, did make at least one strong point when he suggested that Afrikaners are afraid of their culture being “tossed into history's dustbin” (pg. 2) (this may have been an idea culled from the Sunday Independent, but as their articles are only available for perusal by subscribers, I am unable to confirm this). Certainly Afrikaans culture is rarely promoted along with post-apartheid South African culture in a broader sense: it is not exotic enough for either the world music or the international cultural tourism markets and too strongly negatively inflected by international opinion to fit into either pan-African or revisionist, Rainbow Nation rhetoric. And yet, the Afrikaans music industry, in particular, is big in South Africa. However it may look from the outside, contemporary Afrikaans musical culture did not spring spontaneously to life around this song alone. While I can't find stats for Afrikaans music sales right at present (I'm sure they must be out there), I can assure you that the Afrikaans music industry has a significant market, not least because the generational gap that is so evident among many audiences, is negligible among audiences for Afrikaans music. Musicians like Bok, Dozi, Karen Zoid, Chris Chamelion, Steve Hofmeyr, and the list goes no, play to audiences that span age-groups, while Afrikaans music crosses market-defined genre lines like classical, folk, pop, rock, and to a lesser degree, hip hop and jazz. There is no correspondingly strong white English South African industry, not because the music is not out there, but because, I would argue, assimilationist politics, coupled with post-apartheid white guilt and/or exodus created a self-conscious rupture in English South African music, as composers and performers attempted to navigate the opposing boulders of ‘paternalism’ and ‘eurocentrism’ that litter the rivers of postcolonial creativity. Afrikaans culture, from the Voëlvry movement, and beyond, has taken up the challenge, and is encountering the accusations and pitfalls that have kept me fearfully mute.
But New York heard this one. Free speech is a treacherous and ethereal idea, in situations like these.
It seems to me the pivot point is somewhere around the issue of the old South African flag, and most specifically the colour orange. When the new South African flag was chosen, it was stated specifically that the colours had no specific symbolism, aside from their use in some of the many previous flags that had been associated with South Africa. In general, the red, white and blue reference the Union Jack and the old SA flag, while green black and yellow recall various struggle organizations flags, including that of the ANC. The one colour that was excluded was the orange that had formed the lower bar on the old flag. The word "Orange" was also left off the new name for the province formerly known as the "Orange Free State". It was, however, adopted by the residents of Orania, a Northern Cape Afrikaner town with aspirations of independence. And I have vague (and I suspect unconfirmable) memories of orange being associated with a "no" vote during the 1992 referendum that led to the end of Apartheid. Is that too much symbolic weight to put on a single colour? I also have a remembered association between a horrendously violent act filmed and broadcast by the South African media in the 1980s, and the green, yellow and black flags that hid the faces of the perpetrators. What types of violence get demonized or justified by the state, and under what circumstances? The way that colours and flags get handled here, in the US, is very different from the way they are considered in SA, but in experiencing the American consideration of their flag, I think I am beginning to understand not why, but at least how, a flag can become such a contentious issue.
To return to the music, though, I must point out that none of the reports I have linked to yet note that the original statement by the Department of Arts and Culture, which seemed to ignite the already smoldering controversy, was not in fact a spontaneous effusion, but was issued at the request of the Afrikaans magazine Huisgenoot. The issue was then picked up by the FAK (which is where I first encountered it), and then by the national press, including the newspapers I have already linked to. The Blue Bulls Company then allegedly censored the song during rugby matches at Loftus Versveld, and then revoked that decision in the face of public outrage, though the company deny that any official decision along those lines was ever made, and claim that the song was played at last weekend’s match at Loftus.
Now is it just me, or does it begin to look like the controversy is really being fomented among white (I might even go as far as to suggest primarily Afrikaans) commentators? The DAC statement is pretty nonchalant in comparison to the FAK reaction, while the report in the Afrikaans newspaper Beeld, that I translated previously is significantly more agitated and even potentially inflammatory than that issued by the Citizen, or any of the other newspapers I have linked to. The New York Times buys into the ominous pessimism of the Beeld article somewhat more than the equivalent English South African press, but the assumptions made by that article about connections between Afrikaans culture and apartheid (no, they are not the same thing), and the direct connection, almost equation, drawn between De La Rey and Hendrik Verwoerd (most notably by the fronting of the article with a photograph of the diminutive statue of Verwoerd that overlooks Orania) which indicates the lack of subtlety concerning Afrikaans history that is precisely what this song and its popularity seem to be responding to, somewhat undermines the credibility of that report. I would suggest, though, that the noisy enthusiasm with which the Afrikaans community has opened this debate, indicates a strong desire to be heard. Michael Wines, the New York Times journalist, did make at least one strong point when he suggested that Afrikaners are afraid of their culture being “tossed into history's dustbin” (pg. 2) (this may have been an idea culled from the Sunday Independent, but as their articles are only available for perusal by subscribers, I am unable to confirm this). Certainly Afrikaans culture is rarely promoted along with post-apartheid South African culture in a broader sense: it is not exotic enough for either the world music or the international cultural tourism markets and too strongly negatively inflected by international opinion to fit into either pan-African or revisionist, Rainbow Nation rhetoric. And yet, the Afrikaans music industry, in particular, is big in South Africa. However it may look from the outside, contemporary Afrikaans musical culture did not spring spontaneously to life around this song alone. While I can't find stats for Afrikaans music sales right at present (I'm sure they must be out there), I can assure you that the Afrikaans music industry has a significant market, not least because the generational gap that is so evident among many audiences, is negligible among audiences for Afrikaans music. Musicians like Bok, Dozi, Karen Zoid, Chris Chamelion, Steve Hofmeyr, and the list goes no, play to audiences that span age-groups, while Afrikaans music crosses market-defined genre lines like classical, folk, pop, rock, and to a lesser degree, hip hop and jazz. There is no correspondingly strong white English South African industry, not because the music is not out there, but because, I would argue, assimilationist politics, coupled with post-apartheid white guilt and/or exodus created a self-conscious rupture in English South African music, as composers and performers attempted to navigate the opposing boulders of ‘paternalism’ and ‘eurocentrism’ that litter the rivers of postcolonial creativity. Afrikaans culture, from the Voëlvry movement, and beyond, has taken up the challenge, and is encountering the accusations and pitfalls that have kept me fearfully mute.
But New York heard this one. Free speech is a treacherous and ethereal idea, in situations like these.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Follow-up on the De La Rey story
Tim Du Plessis has a much more hopeful take on the De La Rey saga than I have hitherto read. The suggestion that living "in gated suburbs and fortified houses" is tantamount to "inward emigration" is a little annoying. It is difficult to feel engaged in the country when you are constantly on high alert for your basic safety. But I guess I would have to go back to the original source of that idea to really take it up (how I wish journalism followed the same strict referencing standards as academia). In the interim, though, I am prepared to take that as no more than a gesture in the direction of other theorists on the white South African condition, and accept the article as a whole as a useful and positive contribution to a fascinating debate.
Also, here is Jetstreaker's comment on the story, as well as a link, from Jetstreaker, to Bok van Blerk's official website.
Reading some of the information on Bok's website alongside the news articles I have linked to already, I guess the concerns that the department raised were really more about potentially problematic uses of the song by extremists, rather than the song itself, and I have been a bit sidetracked by the latter. The song, as we have been reminded over and over, is not problematic in and of itself. But neither, I rush to add, is a basic Afrikaner solidarity generated around it. The reinvigoration of Afrikaner identity is critical to the future of diversity in South Africa. Claiming South African-ness, South African identity, is how young Afrikaners are going to develop a sense of investment in South Africa and its future. You have to feel proud of your place in South Africa's history in order to build on that for the future, and a sense of pride in a pre-Apartheid South Africa seems like a pretty good starting point, to me.
On the other hand, I do struggle with the whole idea of diversity in the first place, because creating groups, as Henri Tajfel and John Turner have showed, almost inevitably leads to conflict, and the idea of diversity, at least as a political ideology, is premised around the demarcation of difference. Being away from home, and working with people with a whole variety of different experiences from my own is invariably an enriching, and I am beginning to think absolutely necessary part of developing an independent intellectual life and the ability to think creatively and originally. That is very directly tied to notions of diversity. I suspect, though, that the problem resides in the creation of exclusivity, the idea that a culture is only "pure" or authentic when it is performed by what I will refer to as 'original culture bearers'. It is a half-formed idea for me at present, but it responds to my experience of what gets promoted by organizations like UNESCO as Intangible herritage, or by institutions like Carnegie Hall as South African culture (cf. my post on Jeremy Taylor's New York performances. Ag Pleeze Deddy was banned by the Apartheid Government for "mixing languages". Why then was the Graceland collaboration celebrated? (see Louise Meintjes wonderful 1990 article for more info. You need access to Jstor to get it via that link, but if anyone knows of an open-access version, I would be delighted.) Was it just a different historical moment?), or by the whole World Music industry, or even, historically, by the discipline of Ethnomusicology (though this is changing, or has changed, to some degree, at least).
Ok, so that is really just be thinking aloud, and doesn't read particularly easily, but as I intend to work on all of this much more over the next few years, it isn't totally irrelevant.
Also, here is Jetstreaker's comment on the story, as well as a link, from Jetstreaker, to Bok van Blerk's official website.
Reading some of the information on Bok's website alongside the news articles I have linked to already, I guess the concerns that the department raised were really more about potentially problematic uses of the song by extremists, rather than the song itself, and I have been a bit sidetracked by the latter. The song, as we have been reminded over and over, is not problematic in and of itself. But neither, I rush to add, is a basic Afrikaner solidarity generated around it. The reinvigoration of Afrikaner identity is critical to the future of diversity in South Africa. Claiming South African-ness, South African identity, is how young Afrikaners are going to develop a sense of investment in South Africa and its future. You have to feel proud of your place in South Africa's history in order to build on that for the future, and a sense of pride in a pre-Apartheid South Africa seems like a pretty good starting point, to me.
On the other hand, I do struggle with the whole idea of diversity in the first place, because creating groups, as Henri Tajfel and John Turner have showed, almost inevitably leads to conflict, and the idea of diversity, at least as a political ideology, is premised around the demarcation of difference. Being away from home, and working with people with a whole variety of different experiences from my own is invariably an enriching, and I am beginning to think absolutely necessary part of developing an independent intellectual life and the ability to think creatively and originally. That is very directly tied to notions of diversity. I suspect, though, that the problem resides in the creation of exclusivity, the idea that a culture is only "pure" or authentic when it is performed by what I will refer to as 'original culture bearers'. It is a half-formed idea for me at present, but it responds to my experience of what gets promoted by organizations like UNESCO as Intangible herritage, or by institutions like Carnegie Hall as South African culture (cf. my post on Jeremy Taylor's New York performances. Ag Pleeze Deddy was banned by the Apartheid Government for "mixing languages". Why then was the Graceland collaboration celebrated? (see Louise Meintjes wonderful 1990 article for more info. You need access to Jstor to get it via that link, but if anyone knows of an open-access version, I would be delighted.) Was it just a different historical moment?), or by the whole World Music industry, or even, historically, by the discipline of Ethnomusicology (though this is changing, or has changed, to some degree, at least).
Ok, so that is really just be thinking aloud, and doesn't read particularly easily, but as I intend to work on all of this much more over the next few years, it isn't totally irrelevant.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
De La Rey, and the construction of African-ness
When I came across the this article on News24 yesterday, I wasn't sure whether to interpret it as some sort of joke, or to give it more serious consideration. I am still inclined toward the former, but the FAK's statement on the matter suggests otherwise. As I can't find a permanent link, I have quoted the entire statement at the end of this post. Note the separation, in the statement, of Afrikaners and Africans. Part of the problem is right there, I would suggest. The Mail and Guardian report here on the Democratic Alliance's assertion that this is not the most subversive song to come out of South Africa in recent days, while this article, again from News24, despite being pretty poorly written, makes a different point. Note the final line:
"Who are we, where do we come from and where do we fit in?" is the question the music asks.
This music video is available on YouTube, while Hannes has blogged the lyrics of De la Rey with an English translation here, and commented on the situation here.
The Star's Monday editorial on the issue makes ridiculous assumptions that verge on the inflamatory, but I don't expect much better from them. They do, however, quote Steve Biko on cultural identity and multi-culturalism. A useful reference, I think.
Just a thought, though: my advisor has suggested that identity studies are not a successful way of dealing with difference, as the construct reifies identifying experiences, and can become divisive. I am beginning to see her point, though I am not certain what the alternative is.
More on this situation as it develops, I'm sure. Here follows the FAK statement:
FAK WARNS GOVERNMENT ON DE LA REY SONG
(For immediate release 2007/2/7)
The Federation of Afrikaans Cultural Associations, the FAK, has warned the Department of Arts and Culture (DAC) against a malicious, patronising misinterpretation of the Afrikaans artist Bok van Blerk's hit song "De la Rey". According to the FAK it is outrageous to suggest like the DAC that this song is at all connected with so-called "armed resistance" or "hi-jacking by rightwingers". It is equally unfounded to claim like the DAC that the Anglo-Boer War hero and peacemaker, General Koos De la Rey, is seen as a war hero "by a minority of rightwingers" while De la Rey is widely considered to be one of the wisest Afrikaner leaders ever and as one of Africa's first anti-colonial freedom fighters.
The DAC should take notice that the song "De la Rey"'s huge popularity runs wide amongst Afrikaners of all persuasions. This popularity doubtlessly is related to the dignified, positive way in which the song recognizes Afrikaner identity. It also relates to the need for imaginative, democratic leadership amongst Afrikaners, as well as to the often heavy-handed way in which government deals with questions of symbolic importance for Afrikaners. The DAC's negation of the pressure on Afrikaans culture and the Afrikaans language - under which all indigenous languages currently suffer - as "nonsense" is a dangerous denial of facts like the dramatic anglicisation of Afrikaans universities and schools. This sort of denial is reminiscent of the way in which the legitimate grievances of black South Africans were talked away under the previous political dispensation. To on top of all this bring the Treason Act and the Boeremag trial into the De la Rey-debate, as the DAC does, is irresponsible and testifies to a tendency to suspect all Afrikaners of smouldering racism and anti-patriotism.
These unfortunate statements of the DAC show how big the chasm between government and Afrikaners has become. It is in nobody's interest that this state of affairs persists, and the FAK therefore calls on the DAC to verify the facts and rather establish a sustainable partnership with Afrikaners. South Africa's most important precondition for success remains the friendship between Afrikaners and Africans and this goal should be chased energetically rather than to cast suspicion on one
another.
CONTACT: Johann Rossouw, spokesperson, FAK, +27(0)83-459-6364
Friday, December 09, 2005
White Africans
There was an interesting, though somwehat troubling article and response in yesterday's Mail and Guardian, under the headline "How to be a White African". It was an extract from the book The White Africans by Gerald L'Ange. What worried me about it was that although both the article and the response pretended to be liberal and inclusive, the extent to which they expressed a concern with classification and difference made me wonder how we are ever to move beyond it. I get that there is still a massively uneven distribution of wealth and resources, and there are still a shocking percentage of racists around, but classifying a person as priveleged, wealthy and racist because they are white is equivalent to classifying them as poor, uneducated and criminal because they are black. These stereotypes are the real problem. I have sung choral music in African languages. I teach this music to my choir, and wrestle with issues of authenticity every time I do. Does that make me African? There is an entirely black choir on the television in front of me right this moment singing "Benedictus" from some or another mass. It is in latin. Does that make them not African? Does the fact that I choose to attend the Christmas concerts of Chantecleer and the Welsh Male-Voice choir rather than Afro-tenor make me not African? and if I'm not African, what am I? I speak English, but so does everyone at my university. I don't speak any other european language, but I do speak Afrikaans. I don't speak an nguni language, though. So what does that make me? I'm going to further my studies in the United States next year. A friend of mine is planning to do the same. For her, it is a way out of South Africa. For me it is a way in. I'm going to the united states because I need to be a highly qualified and capable an academic as possible in order to come back to South Africa to work. No matter what anyone says, this is where I want to be. And I don't just want to be here, and fool around. I want to contribute. I want to make a difference. and yet this article suggests that "any group of ‘outside educators’ who had grown up and been educated in a privileged situation where teachers are educated by former European systems, curricula and processes and those elites who travel to Europe, North America and overseas to continue an elite education, are distanced from the people they might, hopefully, return home to teach." So what is one really supposed to do. I don't really want to leave, but I feel that I have to if I am to make this career work. Does that make me disloyal to Africa? does that make me not an African?
LINKS TO OTHER ARTICLES ON WHITENESS AND AFRICANNESS:
Meditations71 writes about seeing South Africa through Western Eyes
LINKS TO OTHER ARTICLES ON WHITENESS AND AFRICANNESS:
Meditations71 writes about seeing South Africa through Western Eyes
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