Je suis Rhodes: I'm a settler

When writing articles on Politicsweb, I have tried at most times to respond with facts and sound argument. However, this is a reflection of sorts in response to #RhodesMustFall and the subsequent debate about history vis-a-vis heritage in the country.

Let me start off by saying I completely support the fall of Rhodes if it means wider transformation at that institution and if the same transformation is spread to other campuses throughout the country including former Historically Disadvantaged Institutions.

I have long argued that my own alma mater, the University of the Western Cape, comes off way to lightly when Coloureds continue to dominate and where there is not a single African dean; male or female.

Yet this is more than just an issue of race. It is about a transformation that makes access to higher education more easily available to the majority of South Africans; young and old. Working, and even middle class families, struggle to get their family members into a tertiary institution. While race, class and gender is interconnected in South Africa, we cannot but ignore how our institutions of higher learning have become more and more elitist; UCT and Wits leading the pack.

When I started university in 1999, my dad, also involved in higher education, always reminded me that, at the time, only 9% of those who passed matric actually got into university. The figure might be higher today but it spoke to the kind of elitism that a developmental state could ill afford.

Another example, it takes an average of 9-10 months to complete a Masters degree in Europe while SA students must set aside at least 18 months to complete a Masters here. One can go on and on with elitist examples.

Let me also express my excitement about the student activism that has once again ignited on our campuses. Students bring about revolutions. The challenge of the "born-free" generation is that they have in general suffered from a severe bout of false consciousness. But then again the jury is still out whether the majority of youth under Apartheid were also interested in overthrowing the state or whether they were more interested in what to wear, how to look, where to go.

One does not want to reduce young people to these "material" concerns than to get young people on our campuses asking really serious questions like: why does the majority of our peers not get the opportunity to study after school, a must and almost an automatic, in any developmental state? But they don't ask these kinds of questions. It's more about getting to class, passing the exam, acquiring the certificate and, by all means, let's get out of South Africa!

Transformation can only come about with a shift in thought and curricula.

But I digress.

At a young age I became politically conscious, thanks to my parents, and they probably thought me strong enough to handle the culture of a former model C school in Cape Town's northern suburbs. I hated every moment of it. The staff was lily-white, cadets were what guys did and there were no African learners; feeder areas and school fees being the number one strategy of keeping "that lot" out. This was the late ‘90's but to assure the reader the school has moved on.

I recall a story told by my peers then, in sotto voce, how when Archbishop Tutu once visited the school on Founders' Day he requested all the settlers in the hall to rise. No one stood up. Our sports houses were named after English settlers: Bain, Milner and Pringle. The Settlers High was as English as one could get.

Religiously every Friday, with orchestra in toe, the throats of the new South Africa's children, tomorrow's leaders, would robustly sing:

"The settlers came in days gone by to this our land so dear;

to fight and die that you and I may live and prosper here.

The way was hard but they were brave their purpose firm and sure.

O may the heritage they gave in Settlers High endure..."

Indoctrination?     

There could only have been two reasons why my parents would expose me to such subtle brutality in the new South Africa: a good education and if you concentrate, you'll be able to beat "them" on their own turf. "They", whoever "they" may be, must remind you that you can and must always be better whether academically and/or how you use that knowledge. Knowledge is not just about books but about becoming conscious of what is happening around us: the brutality of injustice.

It was incumbent on me to optimise the academic and life education received at The Settlers High in order to go and make a difference in my country. Like Thabo Mbeki in his "I am an African" speech, I had to be taught that

"...I am formed of the migrants who left Europe to find a new home on our native land. Whatever their own actions, they remain still, part of me..."

It was an education that enabled me to turn my enemy into my competitor, my White peer into a compatriot and my oppressor into a fellow worker.

A colleague reminded me recently how we were schooled to repeat the opening words of the Freedom Charter:

"South Africa belongs to all who live in it - Black and White".

But what exactly do we mean by this? Yes there is space for Whites in South Africa but not their history? Even though that history is painful for us, we must recognise that it is an indelible part of us.

The other part of the discourse of #RhodesMustFall is certainly to ask: what kind of heritage have we as Blacks in South Africa been able to build in 21 years? It took us 21 years to return Comrades Moses Kotane and JB Marks. How have we celebrated Steven Bantu Biko, Smangaliso Robert Sobukwe, Chris Hani, Oscar Mpetha? In particular, what was the heritage project that the post-Apartheid state pursued? Particularly during the late nineties, freedom songs were discouraged from being sung; instruments that keep alive the struggle for freedom in the minds of our people.   

Difficult questions for who us who celebrate people's power today. Difficult questions for the Mandela generation. It's easy to take down, it more difficult to build.

While I am convinced many Blacks continue to suffer from whiteness (trying to out-white-the-Whites), I often accuse Whites, in general, in South Africa of being racist. I continue to believe that no matter how much wrong Blacks do in this country, it could never match the horrible harm that Whites have inflicted on this beautiful land of ours.

Yet there is one thing that, thanks to The Settlers High, I have learnt and am utterly convinced. It is this: the far majority of White people love South Africa. As Blacks we often only see and hear criticism but they do so purely out of their love for this country.

Sadly life is about Black and White in South Africa. It never was until those settlers came. These are painful lessons but worth learning ones. It is for these reasons that I continue to echo in my head the chorus of that school song:

"Settlers High, Settlers High, a noble name you bear

and we'll be true and proud of you from year to changing year!"

Wesley Seale matriculated in 1998 from The Settlers High and is a retiring member of the African National Congress Youth League. He writes in his personal capacity.

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