Rewriting heritage- looking past the symbols
30 September 2021
Heritage has been closely attributed to culture. Connected to one’s unique, inherited sense of identity, values, traditions, language, geographical location, objects passed down through generations, monuments, behaviours, and cultural practices. South Africa undoubtedly has a wealth of cultural heritage, where people from various racial, ethnic, tribal, national, religious and sexual identity reside. Within these cultural contexts, there are huge differences on the variety in food, language, dress, music, and more.
While this ‘cultural’ heritage is celebrated annually in South Africa, there is little engagement on the deeper national heritage that has been fought for, and that should be embodied in our collective spirit. A heritage of struggle, and of the values that led to the struggle for political liberation, and how those values remain a shadow of where and what we once were.
Heritage Day has moved beyond a reflection of my multiple identities, but one where I assess the progress made in the fight for justice and equality. A heritage of activism. As someone who works at a legacy Foundation, founded by the late Ahmed Kathrada, I often reflect on what that legacy means, and how much of his values and vision we have embodied and achieved.
Heritage should look beyond the symbolic or surface level indicators to which many of us subscribe, and push us to assess our collective purpose. It should make us look at what value system we subscribe to, how we treat one another, how we collectively shift the tide in our approach to issues of corruption, greed, and hatred. While also celebrating and commemorating each other, in all our manifestations.
Due acknowledgement has been given to South Africa being or attempting to be, a “Rainbow Nation”, but rainbows appear after a storm. I fear that we as a people have not fully grappled with the underlying challenges that need to be addressed in order to get through such a storm. We have not been able to establish a national heritage and purpose, outside of anthems like ‘Sister Bethina’ or events like “National Braai Day”. While jovial and celebratory in their nature, these often shift our focus away from the more uncomfortable questions that need to be asked as a means to progress past the narrow and typical responses we give to ‘nation-building’ and ‘social cohesion’.
Since democracy, very few attempts have been made to reflect on the past and present within the context of building and solidifying a national consciousness. For example, September 2021 marks 20 years since the Durban Declaration and Program of Action that seeks to combat racism, discrimination, xenophobia and other intolerances. In South Africa today, we have adopted an approach of avoidance and/or of symbolically trying to make people believe that these issues are being addressed. I am reminded of events such as the Rugby World Cup win with a black captain and rejoicing in victory and pride, while hundreds of kids in townships and rural areas dare to dream of achieving the same. Sports fields meant to be built or maintained in communities do not get the necessary funding, or rather the funding was ‘reallocated’ to individuals and entities that are corrupt. Yes, we must celebrate such global victories, but those celebrations will always be short lived and masked behind supressed anger, because in that moment the nation thrives, yet once the buzz dies away, we continue to be victims of our inaction, thinking progress is being made. What progress are we really making?
What measures do we adopt as a country to deal with growing xenophobic sentiment and violence? Especially when such feelings and beliefs have found their way into mainstream political rhetoric. How can we purport to be advocates for justice and inclusion, but treat people differently because they were born elsewhere, or because they have different shades of struggle? A dear friend and activist recently spoke to me of the huge challenges he faces as someone who was born in Burundi, but spent most of his life living in South Africa. He questioned how he would never be proud of his heritage when his country of birth is in constant turmoil, and the country that he lives in, does very little to accept him even though he continuously strives to serve and give back to his community. What has our heritage taught us about treating one another? If not that togetherness is at the core of who we are and how we approach our challenges.
Heritage must move beyond idolising people, places and things, but to encompass and honour the values and ideals that they stand for.
I come from a family of change makers, a family that hasn’t really grappled with our traumatic past, particularly from being forcibly removed from ‘Fietas’ to Lenasia under the Group Areas Act. This act of systemic violence has been passed down for two generations, and for someone like me, it continues to bring pain and sadness. Entire homes, families, communities and cultures were wiped away. A heritage lost, but not forgotten.
Growing up in Lenasia, surrounded by the ‘congress’, ‘BC’, ‘sell-outs’ and all other political types, I had not found a space to explore my own political heritage. Even though members of my family had been involved in the fight for freedom. This part of my ‘identity’ or ‘heritage’ only sprouted much later when I traversed the halls and corridors of Wits University during the start of the #FeesMustFall campaign. A campaign that left us facing an uncomfortable truth – that while memory is a weapon, we remain unarmed in the quest for true justice, freedom and dignity. The experiences of students during the time were far too similar to those captured pre-democracy. Scenes of violence. Scenes of pain and anger. Scenes of young people acting out on their beliefs and purposefully expressing their proud heritage of standing firm for what is just.
Like many other towns, villages, dorps and communities, Lenasia has long forgotten its progressive heritage. One that sought to galvanise mass support in building and creating a community centred around care and justice. It has undoubtedly produced some of the most remarkable and disciplined freedom fighters, but equally struggled to develop and carry forward that heritage to new generations. Beyond seeking council from the aged and wise leaders of the past, communities ought to build and institutionalise their heritage. To arm new generations who walk their path with the memory and knowledge needed to take us forward and to never forget where we have come from. It is therefore of primary importance that communities like mine build centres and spaces where memory, art, history, stories, and values are told, taught and transferred onward. Spaces where our heritage is not just placed on display, but honoured through progressive community building work where young people can continue to grow, learn and take action to make our world a better place.
Collectively we have not been able to find healing and cultivate a common hope. We have allowed our violent past to be passed down generation after generation, without taking the necessary steps to deal with that pain, brutality and violence. We have not sought to continue the fight for justice and resistance en masse. We are continually losing a sense of ‘community’ and ‘collectivism’ because ego and self-interest continue to govern and rule.
South Africa undoubtedly has a rich natural and cultural tapestry. But ours is severely damaged and torn, perhaps not down the middle, but in places and spaces where the effects are lessened by your positionality in society, more so if you are of a specific class, gender and race.
I raise the point on natural heritage too, because we have forgotten the many teachings and guidance passed down to us by our ancestors, in that we are to protect and safeguard the earth. For without it, there can be no life.
Heritage needs to be cultivated and developed. It can’t only be left to tales and traditions. Some of those very traditions have proven to be a source of deep rooted violence. Patriarchy for one, continues to thrive within many cultural contexts. It has systemically been embedded in many of our cultures, including my own. Relegating the position of women and creating unequal lived experiences from within our own homes.
Perhaps a new culture must be forged. A culture of accountability. Where we are open and honest with one another. Where we refuse to allow corruption to go unchecked, or allow people to use their positions of power however they please. We must imbibe a culture that of some of our forebears practiced, in actively challenging the status quo and resisting against oppressive structures, but also to demand better from ourselves and for ourselves, and to fully recognise that we all have learning and unlearning to do.
We urgently need to prompt national dialogues in which communities can participate and engage in defining a new heritage. Moving away from sloganeering, we must endeavour to live and breathe ‘Ubuntu’. Verbalising it is just not good enough. It requires work, active participation and proactive day to day interrogation and reflection by each of us if we ever wish to truly create a non-racial, non-sexist, just and equal society that is inclusive of all people.
Our heritage as justice loving people, must be transformative and eclipsing of our belief in promoting and standing firm to what is just, and distancing ourselves from that which seeks to divide and destroy. “Umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu”, but who are we as a people?
By Irfaan Mangera, 30 September 2021
