The recent widespread calls for transformation at universities have started a probe into aspects of extra-curricular programmes on campuses. Last week the University of the Free State’s SRC made the executive decision to discontinue all ties with the Afrikaanse Taal- en Kultuurvereniging (ATKV). This decision included slamming the door on the acclaimed serenade (and debating) platforms before the string-tied tooth had even hinted at loosening.
Large-scale calls for decolonisation and Africanisation (used loosely here, as these loaded terms’ demarcation is becoming increasingly vague) have forced a re-evaluation of ongoing platforms, despite the fact that UFS’s national title(s) denote(s) no cause for concern. Rightfully, the unbidden symbolism, curricula and institutional cultures we have inherited have been subject to scrutiny amidst the ongoing journey to define the African university of tomorrow.
At this point I should mention that I do not speak for the ATKV; neither do I wish to speak for any group or particular school of thought. Despite my deep love for Afrikaans, the identity surrounding and overlying the language has caused me to denounce and renounce my affiliation continuously. I would, however be defined as “Afrikaner”, whether I stand to be counted or not, as Breyten Breytenbach would often suggest.
It has become convenient to extrapolate the sole purpose of a programme by what is suggested by the name of its partners. Though intertwined, singing Afrikaans does not amount to dominance of the Afrikaner culture. Likewise, accepting a Rhodes scholarship does not qualify as colonial endorsement. And so eisteddfod platforms certainly do not continue to be defined by their Welsh origins.
As a previous participant, coach and custodian of the ATKV platforms as SRC member, I have become accustomed to its unique ability to forge relationships (beyond the guise of tolerance) among a myriad of students. Luckily, this assertion is shared by many of the very doomsayers who called for its sudden euthanasia. The request for a prompt envisionment of a new a cappella platform makes one question whether reinventing the wheel is the best solution. Perhaps this premature mercy-killing (predicted to arise at affiliated universities – University of Stellenbosch (US), University of Johannesburg (UJ), North-West University and University of Pretoria) could have been avoided.
At this point some will choose to instantly agree with me, consoled by the warm nostalgia of their own sêr-related memories (beyond the newly ascribed guilt). Others will fiercely disagree with its claimed value. We should wholeheartedly welcome both to contribute towards a deeper understanding of how this platform is defined and perceived.
Roots
Since its inception in 1997 the ATKV Sêr competition has been no stranger to the ever changing demographic of students and subsequent calls for evolution. The once exclusively Afrikaans competition has seen subtle transformation reflected in its widely varying participants and winners. My first introduction to the platform as an wide-eyed spectator was in 2008 when UJ’s House Lebone, a predominantly black female residence, took the national title. I was intrigued by the exultant response of both group and audience, though unaware of the significance of the night.
As my relationship with the platform evolved over the years, I became more aware of the substance of claims that diversity was unlocking innovation and changing the platform across the country. In 2012 this proved to hold good with US’s Hippokrates female residence’s innovative incorporations of R&B, hip hop and alternative genres (some would argue cultural appropriation). Under the guidance of the late Harry Frauenstein and Olive Pedro they have added three national titles to their belt, in spite of never having won the controversial Afrikaans Own Composition component (the only remnant of its unilateral past). Many residences across the country have undergone similar changes in content.
Hippokrates female residence group (winners: 2015)
Perhaps I am being too generous in my depiction of inclusivity shown over the years by the ATKV. Admitting that the apparent diversity and inclusiveness were not created by the ATKV’s direct involvement, but in spite thereof, gives credit where it is due. Could the seemingly sectarian façade of the organisation and its mandate for the development of Afrikaans not in fact have become a repository for Afrikaans culture (whatever that may suggest) to remain a dominant part of university culture?
Soon campuses started setting homeground prerequisites following calls for indigenous languages being incorporated into repertoires. From afar, the platform seemed to have been securing its place in the greater movement of changing university cultures, piggybacking on its increasing momentum.
Veritas male residence group (winners: 2015)
Context
Before exploring the need to retain a platform in isolation, we must first review the context of its scrutiny in a radically holistic way. The need for creating a university environment that is truly welcoming to designated student groups (black, female, first-generation students, etc) has proven to be easier posted on a university web page than done. Many movements seek to build a space beyond the accommodating blanket apologies taking form in the occasional name change or cultural day celebration. Creating this sense of belonging calls for sacrifice, spiritually and politically, of both the physical spaces in question and the students resembling those for which institutions were originally constructed. But perhaps too little time has been spent defining this home we hope to foster.
Decolonisation calls for thorough reimagining of new identities which cannot be rushed, albeit an undeniably urgent movement. It goes beyond the classroom and the charity of tolerance which seems linked to every polite nod exchanged between white and black students walking past each other.
Language
Language continues to be critical to the development of the aforementioned sense of home. Here I do not wish to resort to the tired argument of “Afrikaans majority speakers not being white” as the basis of proving that it is not inherently racist. This assertion distracts from the matrix of oppression, which brown Afrikaans speakers certainly are not able to tiptoe around. However, discarding the Africanness of Afrikaans would be consciously deadening to her cultural capacity and undeniable origins. She remains a hybrid, revelling in the different textures of all her users. The 2005 UNESCO Convention on the Protection and Promotion of the Diversity of Cultural Expression, to which South Africa is a signatory, manifests our often misjudged responsibility towards languages.
More and more we are being confronted with the notion that “decolonising spaces” is equivalent to eradicating “the other”. Often quoted, Ngugi wa Thiong’o continues to be a refreshing pitstop along our inconclusive journey: “A decolonized university in Africa should put African languages at the center of its teaching and learning project. The African university of tomorrow will be multilingual” (Decolonizing the Mind, 1981).
It has become a convenient tendency to consign any and all conversations relating to language to the political baggage brought by its past. Yet in the absence of a (say) Sotho Language Organisation offering a sustained multi-centred alternative to students, one wonders whether the ATKV should not have pioneered a model beyond the expected scope enclaved by its name.
Yes, Afrikaans has been the teacher’s pet for an unjustifiable period. It’s time to be moved further back in the classroom. Yet forcing Afrikaans to leave the classroom (used here as pupil, not language of instruction) altogether coaxes a conscious intolerance to any cultural expression by its speakers. Let’s develop new partnerships aimed at addressing the positionality of indigenous cultures; imagining an Afri-Sotho component to existing platforms such as the Free State Arts festival.
Should the ATKV not have answered questions regarding its mandate before students posed them? An opportunity to help lighten some of the political and ideological baggage carried forth by Afrikaans presents itself, the opportunity to take a different route being undeniably tempting. Why not incorporate own compositions in more indigenous languages; add new partner universities? Though practically challenging at first, I propose making use of four indigenous languages, the only prerequisite regarding language incorporation. This could be the breath of fresh air modern Afrikaans activists have been yearning for. It could attempt to acknowledge (as a baby step) the role of Afrikaans as a tool of oppression, but go beyond this by proclaiming its new-found willingness to redistribute and embrace a shared future. To speak out against rightists who continue to accredit a blatantly racist identity to Afrikaans speakers.
Epilogue
The obvious polarisation imposed by a unilateral decision to abandon ties with a 19-year-old platform fuels the (mother-) tongue-tied debate over the identities of academic institutions. In the light of adopting monolinguist policies, is it not our responsibility, now more than ever, to reimagine the importance of platforms emphasising cultural renewal and language development, conscious of a justified priority allocation?
Breyten Breytenbach’s sustained disregard for linguistic and cultural hegemony, though seemingly indifferent to many student-centred endorsements, continues to resonate over the years: “And national togetherness, in order not to rot into totalitariansim, must be rooted and nourished by cultural variety. Without differences there can be no motion” (Walter Whall Battiss lecture, February 1994).
If we are to truly restructure and reimagine our cultural platforms, weary of the stale path of “generic, international university”, we must become aware of the complexities of true inclusivity. There remains a delicate scale in balancing redistribution of privilege and fostering a positive relationship among majority and minority groups. I hope to make it clear that I hold no entitlement to or control over the management of this relationship. I hope to be guided. However, the apparent superficial dissection of debates surrounding the interdependence of all African languages is too readily supported by populist discourse of what “transformation” should and should not entail.
The ATKV has proven to be reasonable with regard to change, confirmed by its recent willingness to remove the Afrikaans own composition requirement. Let’s meet with all stakeholders to further restructure and transform the platform, aiming at mutual enrichment and the triumphing of inclusion.
April 2016, Bloemfontein
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