Sunday 19 February 2017

What would Shaka say?


Hi there

Yes, I haven't written for quite some time. Let's just say I was rather overwhelmed. Paralyzing Overwhelmness ( it's now a word)

  I became  acutely aware the of the fact that I and my ilk are regarded by a gtreat many people as Melanin Deprived-colonial-slave masters-hoes-of Jan van Riebeeck and so forth. This in itself is not surprising or shocking really, not if you've been around during Apartheid and you've witnessed this monster at work.


Apartheid's tendrils are far reaching..

It struck me that, apart from the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, very little is actually known of the effects of that System on the children of the white masters. We were born into it, we were taught to fear, fear, fear . Ghoulish stories of Vortrekker babies being bashed against ox wagon wheels by blood thirsty and cruel tribesmen.  Women being raped under said ox wagon, cattle stolen, massacres and slaughter as is the way of the  behemoths laying in wait, panga or knobkierie in hand, ready to savagely kill every white person..


I remember a recurring nightmare of thousands of Zulu  Impis slowly filing the horizon over the dunes of the Namib  desert where I was born and raised. The fearsome warriors would slowly descend on us, surrounding our little town. Their eyes glinting with hate...quiet, hard eyes with contempt shimmering through. and then the killing would begin...somehow the soundtrack was quite joyful, with drums and harmonic ululating.....and I admit that I manipulated the nightmare into a sexual fantasy...all good....Viva African jazz Viva

The 'One settler One bullet' thing is real

For years the word 'impi', filled me with a paralysing fear, until I saw the illustration of Shaka Zulu in my standard 4 History book...and this was a turning point in my life. I fell totally and hopelessly in love with this big, black man and spent hours fantasising about us. Yes, of course it was US...I was married to him in a traditional ceremony high up in the mountains of Zululand...his very presence would of course keep the blood thirsty Impis at bay, and I would go quite misty eyed at the thought of brewing his beer, just the way he liked it. In my mind,  a black men sat in front of his hut, ordered people about, gave wise council when needed, and a flick of his eyes would signal his every desire, which I was happy to fulfill. The only problem was that I wasn't really into sharing him with other Nubian maidens, but I figured I could settle for Favourite Wife. I just couldn't accept being a side chick.




So there we were, isolated from the reality of people in this country. I remember sneaking around the Maid's quarters to listen to her music. We were not allowed to listen to the 'bantu station',unless it was someone like Miriam Makeba or Sachmo, and of course Harry Ballefonte. Bill Crosby had iconic status, but when Neil Diamond was seen on a pic embracing a black woman in Africa, people freaked out. Steve Hofmeyer has been selling Neil Diamond covers ever since.

When I finally escaped the School System and landed at UCT, life took on many different hues and meanings. We were thrust into a reality that was shocking, and we were confronted with people that we didn't even know existed in this country. Being an Afrikaner was tantamount to the worst thing you could ever be. I remember being constantly corrected  on my English. Being shouted at for being the Opressor, and looking at angry, white English kids who obviously forgot that their noble ancestors created concentration camps for Afrikaners and Black women and children. The Anglo-Boer war raged on....

I also realized that the Queen's English was not my English. Queen Modjadji was my Queen and will always be.
I embrace being a White African. I love Africa, and I didn't fall of the boat yesterday either. I love my country, and no matter what anyone says...I have met to many beautiful people in this country, I've taught to many wonderful children to ever arrive at a point of hating any race, no matter how many attrocities are committed daily because I live my own truth.I know that people are capable of great love.

I will always be envious of people that wear dreadlocks  and I'm sorry that having a love of African prints are seen as Cultural appropriation.

I often wonder what my darling Shaka would say.. He lived and ruled in a world of his own..a flicker of those eyes and you could be hurled off  The Rock. He apparently hated rapists and thieves.  



James Baldwin said:" I imagine that one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly, is because they sense, once hate is gone they will be forced to deal with pain"

We have not dealt with our collective pain yet...and I still love Shaka Zulu


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