LETTER

The Whole Truth, and Nothing But the Truth

Two weeks ago City Press ran an article penned by talented and award-winning poetLebo Mashile (Live, Love and Belong) once again exposed the high levels ofintellectual bankruptcy in our society and our ongoing celebration ofmediocrity. For anyone to have opted for Mashile to deliver such a flawedspeech during such an august occasion insinuates that South Africa has runout of history scholars with a proper grasp of anthropology – I protestthat Mashile carries such a mantle lest I proclaim our collective appraisal of mediocre intellectualism.

First; there is no ‘small’ nation in the face of the earth calledBapulane. There is a ‘big’ nation called Mapulana rooted not inBushbuckridge (as a matter of fact Bushbuckridge is in Mpumalanga and notLimpopo) but Mapulaneng which covers a sizeable chunk of Mpumalanga.Mapulana are found in every corner of South Africa, largely in Gautengwhere they have a footprint. This is information so in the public domainthat a first year anthropology student could have delivered a betterpresentation on. That Mapulana did not have their own Bantustan and arecognized (official) language does not make them less of a nation thesame way Palestinians are not less human by virtue of being denied landand self-determination.

Mashile should also understand apartheid’s (especially Bantustans) role incrafting the modern South African identity. Tribes and languages weredeliberately suffocated under the homeland system. I know not of a singleMoPulana who is “very comfortable referring to themselves as both Pedi(sic) and Bapulane (sic)”. The biggest insult one can dish against aMoPulana is to call them a MoPedi.To position Mashile’s flawed analysis within a cultural context I wouldprofess that identity is inherited and never chosen to suit a populisthegemonic agenda. Contrary to her calculated definition of her ownidentity the Mashiles are not Basotho (from Lesotho) but one of the fiveoffspring of the lion (Bana ba Tau Sethlano). They are royalty inMapulaneng.

They are in the same league with Mashego, Malele, Chilwane andMogane.Given that Mashile’s diatribe was during the World Summit on Arts andCulture one can sadly conclude that the world now carries that distortednarrow interpretation of our cultural identity as fact. It will beencouraging next time for the organizers to offer such a privilege tosomeone more qualified on the subject like Professor Pitika Ntuli or DrMathole Motshega instead of a poet.

All Mashile had to do was to Google ‘Mapulaneng’ and she would have endedup with more academic references, websites and Facebook groups aboutMapulana to assist in her speech instead of perpetuating a dangerousfascist analysis of Mapulana, a victorious and proud nation.

REVIEW

etc, etc – a review of wordsetc

Imraan Coovadia is a South African author with a vision that defies the use of binoculars and magnifying glasses. A literary visionary with storytelling skills reminiscent of greats such as bi-lingual poet-author Breyten Breytenbach and award-winning JM Coetzee. Interesting enough, Coovadia is the primary subject of the latest installment of wordsetc, that literary journal that aspires to take over where Staffrider dropped the baton – with a touch of touché.

The latest issue of wordsetc is packed with enough information I just pity that I read it during an economic recession, which means I couldn’t afford to take leave and indulge it sipping daiquiris while lounging topless on a hammock at a Maputo beach café – or alternatively some few miles away in Bazaruto.

First; I’m inspired by the fact that advertisers are now coming aboard, which I think will at some stage mitigate the R49,95 cover price, which comes across as steep even for a niche publication targeting a higher LSM. Well, as a literary reviewer I get it for free and hope it stays that way.
While being the only (I stand to be corrected) such literary publication on South Africa’s shelves right now the publishers should understand that it is still competing with 500grams of Bokomo cornflakes, two NO NAME one-litre pints of Skim milk and a bag of oranges. Throw in tagless teabags and sweeteners and you have two weeks of organic breakfast.

It’s either or. However, bread and butter issues aside, publisher Phakama Mbonambi has managed to stick to the formula he chose many moons ago when he called me with the concept for the journal, very enthusiastic, driven like a Ferrari and not about to be told anything on the contrary. Not only that, he was also giving me space to advertise – for free nogal; I can see these days that my spot has been snapped by a wine-selling patron.

Few years later Mbonani has stuck to his guns regardless of wine sellers now pouring money into lucrative pages to entice the thirsty reader. At some stage it might start resembling heavily subsidized in-flight magazines, which will be brilliant because at the end of the day they get read. Tell me of a person who takes 16-hours of flying to Heathrow or JFK and still remains a passive soul and I’ll show you a semi-deaf traveler who spent those hours watching in-flight movies or listening to music. Maybe its future is to target SAA and get every issue in the cabin – both classes, thus selling our literature and culture to the traveler who matters – with a few wordsetc issues for us on the ground.

Okay, this issue sees notable contributions from men and women who are authority in their respective fields and who share their insides uninhibited with the rest of the world. I meant to say they stand naked infront of us to critique ‘their sizes’. And do they all impress!

Multi-talented poet and prolific writer Malika Ndlovu shares a painful story [Grief is a Teacher] of a child that never was and who has been her passive muse for the better part of recent memory – which while the reader feels that its taunts her, seems to be developing into a useful writer’s (un)block(er) as she throws statistics around like a SAPS Commissioner on ‘that’ special day. “I don’t choose to remember her that way. I am able to see her now, in my own way, everywhere and in everything. She is an inner compass for me, a reminder of what matters in everything” she writes.

Another interesting contribution, which I want to believe is the first time such a confession has graced pages has to be Zachie Achmat’s frank delivery about his relationship (though handicapped) with his conservative Muslim father [My Father’s Touch]. The narration takes the reader into the interrogation tactics of the Fascist Security Police and reminds one why every South Afrikan should stand up to nip similar tendencies (of a police state) at the bud, at the mere mentioning of revoking Sections of the Criminal Procedure Act and re-introducing military ranks to civilian institutions like the cops. COSATU’s Zwelinzima Vavi once said that ‘dictatorship does not come with drum majorettes’

Zachie writes about his 1977 incarceration with the benefit of hindsight , “Not all policemen were bad, either. South Africa had invaded Angola in 1976, and many white youth did not want to fight a clandestine and dubious war against their neighbours. They could get out of compulsory military service on condition that they served their time in the police force. Many chose this option, not realizing that troops would soon be deployed in the townships to wage war against unarmed civilians”. This is crucial given that police these days are told to shoot service delivery protesters in townships and informal settlements with ‘rubber’ bullets and teargas [has anybody ever asked what goes into the making of a teargas?] and are now about to be granted a license to kill. Will those with a conscience within the SAPS ranks quit in protest?

Actually I could dissect the whole journal in this post but I will leave that to the editors, publishers and contributors to this publication to do that for you. They include journalist Kevin Bloom [The Realist], Victor Dlamini [Capturing Creative Spirits], Lindiwe Nkutha [Sheila’s Journey], Angelina Sithebe [Quest to make sense of the Present], Karina Magdalena Szczrek [Writers’ other lives], Andrew Herold [Grace notes, with a twist], Joy Watson [Her Story], Penny Urquhart [A rough landing], Alistair King [The Collector], Seni Seneviratne [Language of My Heart], M.Neelika Jayawardane [ Master of Ambiguity], Tia Marie Beautement [Alles van die beste] and Dalhma Llanos-Figueroa [Impressions of Barcelona].

In The Collector, King explores the not-so-much-a-hobby of many bookworms, which is travelling the world and collecting first issues of books. After reading that piece I rushed into my library and discovered some few real classics, some dating back to 1952 and I realised that I might be up to something big. I would have loved it if my Animal Farm and A Tale of Two Cities were first issues, huh.

Like all those that came before it, this edition of wordsetc carries probing book reviews of quite inspirational literature such as Moeletsi Mbeki’s reviewed-to-the-bone Architects of Poverty [go find out why post-colonial Afrika fails to tick], Dawn Garisch’s trespass, Aher Arop Bol’s The Lost Boy, Angela Makholwa’s The 30th Candle, Jabulile Ngwenya’s I Ain’t Yo Bitch etc. If you are not like me but are the movie buffoon type who waits for Barry Ronge to brief you about the storyline before hitting Computicket then get wordsetc to discover what is said about the aforementioned books before you go out and buy them.

However one of my friends is of the opinion that this installment of wordsetc has gone bourgeois, that it is sliding towards liberalism that might suffocate Native talent as Natives can’t be liberals since liberals wear two jackets and two caps and only one hand-glove. Well I reserved my opinion and sent the jury out to deliberate.

But what is observed is that the once small literary journal has grown, it now has a quarter inch spine and approaches 100-pages. It is well laid-out and readable without needing assistance from lenses and page-markers.

Oops, in the opening I mentioned Coovadia, yeah, there are seven pages dedicated to this talented storyteller and prolific wordsmith provided by Neelika. I ain’t touching on that inspirational profile but leaving it to you to lick for yourself and discover why I would have the backbone to compare Coovadia to Breytenbach and Coetzee – not at the expense of Zakes Mda, Siphiwo Mahala, Fred Khumalo, Zukiswa Winner, Kgebetli Moele, Niq Mhlongo and others.

Go grasp a copy before the forth Summer issue hits the shelves since wordsetc might be your muse while lounging on a hammock this December.

ANALYSIS

If The Bible Carried Ads…

Here I am having an inspirational talk with a guy from the left and he wants to know how far is the South Afrikan media with the discussion on who should dictate editorial policy between the advertisers and the readers. We end up on politics really; I bemoan the fact that Media Development and Diversity Agency is not well-funded and that government should put more money into the agency to unearth more grassroots media with a pulse.

I go as far as mentioning that those who run the media actually set the agenda on what national discourse should be. Then we come to the point I have been wondering relating to the influence of ads on content. Okay, Google Ads can not do that because they are content relevant. You publish stories about Mandela and the Long Walk To Freedom book retailers’ ads pop up. You write about China and The Dalai Lama’s ads dominate your page. But the real talk is about the ads that try to influence content – by throwing money at the publication.

Then our discussion came to the point where we wondered why is the Bible, thick, printed on the best paper on the market retail so cheap? If those who are propagating the spread of Christianity can put so much money into its production and distribution why can’t those who want to propagate their own leftist rhetoric do the same with newspapers. For all I know newspapers are published on cheap newsprint, are less than forty pages thick and are distributed at restaurants and beer halls. Where’s the hiccup?

Then my friend wanted to know my take on how ads influence content. I told him that I reckon if the Bible welcomed ads, you would have a lot of inaccurate information and omissions in the Holy book. Imagine this scenario;

Obviously SARS would have loved putting ads next to Jesus’ sermons about ‘giving to Caesar what belongs to Caesar’. Picture reading about all the taxes that Jesus preached about and at the bottom of the page you get a strip ad from SARS, reminding you of your obligations.

Also imagine reading about the miracle of walking on water at the Sea of Galilee and then getting an ad from Vodacom or NOKIA. After St Peter failed to cross to Jesus due to his lack of faith you can have NOKIA claiming, ‘connecting people’ or Vodacom advertising its power of connecting people.

On another note you could be reading the story of Christ’s crucifixion and at the bottom you have an ad from AVBOB, selling their funeral covers. I’m quite certain Kaizer Chiefs would have bought a half page to advertise Ikusasa LaMakhosi.

Now something that would tickle the fancy of our plastic millionaires. Imagine reading the parable of the Lazarus and the Rich Man and on the reversal of roles. And then there is an ad from ABSA selling an investment scheme. ‘Don’t end up like the Rich Man, Invest with ABSA, today, tomorrow, together’.

Well, I can dissect the inspired book to shreds because I know it so passionately but I reckon you can also think of ads to go with the story. On the issue of influence I swear to you after Cain killed Abel you would have an AK47 influencing the content by claiming that Cain used a Kalashnikov to pop Abel and not a stone. Then they would buy the strip and sell the AK47.

Share your thoughts with me, choose a scripture in the Bible and tell me what ad do you think it would go with it. Go to Facebook and post me your thoughts, you might become a copywriter someday.

POEM

This man was assaulted by the community during the recent uprising against crime in Shatale. He died hours later on his way to hospital. The poem below is dedicated to the community action and is written in Sepulana.

Mokga kgati….!

Mekgolokwane e kgobokanne go thasoga leleme
Meludi ya masogana like a melody ya Pavarotti’s Orchestra
Ba a botsisana ba makele betši ba Shatale
Gore ganthe ke lenyalo la mang la go emisa sechaba ka maoto
Beng mabu bare “ba tlhomodiye naga mmutlwa”

Ke koma mang ya go tšwa mehlare e wologa
Yona ke ya ga mang? Ge ya Mapulana e sa fetolele mašahla a mela
Naga e bafala ka go atlala mesemo ye metala
Basadi ba tlhakela leroleng ba tupela dirope le direthe
Mpša ya masebe e itsane “naga e thlomodiwe malalakwaele”

Shatale ba e tlhomodiye mogollwa ka mothokolo
Ba ngannge mešifa ka la gore mmutlwa re tlhomola ka mmutlwa
Re tima mollo ka meetše
Nnete mašago a butšwiye ka letlalo ka kubu
Monna a lla boka lesea
Letolo le robega nka re ke letlhare la morula wa go barama
Mphine wa piki o roba mohlagare
Basadi ba Shatale ba re ba belege masole
Enough is enough ba chesa tsotsi
Moya o tšwele nameng monyako wa Mapulaneng Hospital
Go tlhokiye le mokgekolo wa go rothisa keledi
Ke la tau ya go lapa ya go rothisa tete

Ke yona Bantu Education ya bo tsotsi
Naga ya Shatale e be e ethoma go tlhoma
Re womisiye lešahla ka tladi
Ra tšhuba ka mesela ya diphiri
Naga ya bokokwane e emme ka leoto la Kgoši Mashego
Ntšeleke skonopelo ke s'kogwa ke mo tlhomole mmutlwa

Sereti: P.I. Mashilane “JOP” Prayforce