April, 2006

Memorialisation post the TRC.

By Zubeida Jaffer

Ten years ago, South Africa officially started the process of dealing with it’s past when the TRC held its first sitting in East London. That moment symbolized the historic point at which the country committed itself to pay attention to shaping a national narrative. The TRC process, findings and recommendations in themselves represent a body of work that is a memorial to the apartheid experiences of thousands of citizens. 

While the TRC recommended that substantial work be done in keeping memory alive, it did not seek to define the parameters of such efforts. It has been left up to the government, non-government organizations and individual citizens to shape this process.  The tenth anniversary of the TRC creates the opportunity for careful reflection on these efforts and to raise some questions that require ongoing debate.

Keeping memory alive is not important simply for the sake of nostalgia. Understanding the past holds the possibility of affirmation desperately needed for young people to cope with building their future. Acknowledgement of who one is, the proud history or not-so-proud histories of our communities could help in shaping a positive national identity necessary for a strong South African future.

Deep in the heart of the sprawling township of New Brighton stands a museum that is an example of connecting the past to the present. It takes as its theme, the corrugated iron that is such a sharp feature of poor people living in self-constructed homes in all urban areas of South Africa, said Constitutional Court judge and author, Albie Sachs. Sachs has been central in fashioning the new Constitutional Court into a living memorial. It has been built on the site of the Old Fort Prison where both Mandela and Gandhi were locked up. “It is an example of a living memorial – a dialogue between the past and the present, establishing through juxtaposition of buildings the connections between them,” he said.

Not only have bigger projects such as these made found ways to make this link between the past and the future.  A small-scale initiative in Cape Town has created the connection between the past, the present and the future. A small group of activists have organized themselves into an organization called CARA which stands for Coleen, Ashley, Robert and Anton – four young resistance fighters who had fallen. They have organized small fund-raising events to erect tombstones on the graves of these local heroes and have also raised money to support the education of the surviving children.

Countless others all over the country were involved in telling their stories through books, films and local exhibitions.

Memorialising an experience of necessity involves making choices. Whose stories are told and what part of the story is told? Do these stories reach out across the old apartheid divide or do they further cement it?

At the launches of two major memorials in Cape Town last year – one in Gugulethu and one in Athlone – only a sprinkling of white citizens were in evidence. . Even in our memories, we are a divided country.  Our enemy is not conveniently external to be driven from our midst gloriously. Our enemy is remembered in our minds depending on where we had found ourselves during the years of friction.

This represents a very particular challenge to local authorities who want to bridge the gap between different communities while at the same time recognising that the experience has been a divided one

 

Once the story has been selected, should we emphasize the violence of the encounter or should the memorial symbolize our commitment to a different path? Perhaps explaining the experience but allowing the artist to introduce an uplifting softness? Could three beautiful young birds in flight leaving this earth have symbolized the three lives lost when policemen shot into a crowd stoning government vehicles on Thornton Road Athlone? The memorial depicts the moment when they emerged from crates stacked on the truck with guns blazing.

Perhaps the hurt is too fresh for gentler interpretations. After all, memorialisation is also about education and interpretation. It has to provide explanations in case we have the story wrong and remind us if we have forgotten.

But surely it should also strive to be transcendent, to help us get beyond the chaos of random events and experience what is timeless in human existence.

 

Some have argued that the present initiatives in the country follow the trend set by Afrikaner Nationalism.  KwaZulu- Natal academic, Sabine Marschall  said  that the “Struggle for Liberation” myth upon which the new South Africa is being constructed has parallels to the Afrikaner foundation myth. While she concedes that the two have developed in mark contrast, she points out similarities against which she cautions. The old Afrikaner monuments also are marked by the idea of a constant struggle – a quest for freedom, relentless resistance and the enemy’s maltreatment of the leadership, deprivation and suffering. “”This is exactly the range of topics and values that recur in the new South African foundation myth, and it through elaborate monuments, solid memorials and bronze statues on pedestals – imitating colonial and apartheid era commemorative practices – that the new South African state chooses to visualize, nurture, and disseminate its newly constructed identity”, she said.

In the rush to construct this identity, there is the belief that erecting an art piece illustrates that the new local authorities are firmly committed to remembering the sacrifices made by communities. The process of consultation is often limited to a series of meetings with prominent leaders and organizations in a particular area. Very seldom has the time been given to get communities involved in shaping the process. Those who gathered at the launch of the Trojan Horse were mainly those who had been intimately involved in both the event and resistance. Would the community have had a greater sense of ownership if more had been invested in a longer process? 

At the same time, an earlier memorial constructed by local artist Tyrone Apollis(check spelling of surname) was removed to make way for a new memorial. While memorials should be open to ongoing critique and debate, the city failed to proceed with care in the removal of the older art piece. Apollis was treated disrespectfully and his art piece moved with no consultation.

Interestingly, in Dallas, Texas, the debate about the John F.  Kennedy memorial has been reopened. In the first place, it took the local city council nearly twenty years to construct the present memorial. Virtually another twenty years later, a visiting architect, Witold Rybczynski’s strong criticism has provoked a fresh debate. In the Dallas Morning News, he conceded that it may not be easy to construct a memorial on a busy road but argued the enormity of the event required a strong statement. “This is a case where the traffic diversion would not have been out of place,” he said. “This is what happens with the World War 1 Cenotaph in London, which bisects the busy streams of cars along Whitehall.”

The location of the memorial is on the sixth floor of a building where the sniper hid.  On either side of the road where Kennedy was shot, a brush of red paint on the curb is the only indication of the momentous event.  A stack of cardboard boxes behind which the sniper hid remains intact as the centerpiece of an audiovisual display that explain the events of that fateful day in 1963.

Early societies were shaped and held together by strong mythologies. Myths are today considered to be falsehoods. But myths are those stories that give individuals and communities a sense of who they are and where they come from. They give us a sense of perspective and could speak to us about the possibilities contained within us, said historian and author, Karen Armstrong. We often choose to memorialize that which has deeply touched us and either changed our lives or lifted us momentarily beyond ourselves. Is the work we doing and the way in which we are doing it reminding us of the values that drove us during those events? When somebody hears the story or looks at the object that symbolizes the story, does it make a difference to our lives? If  powerful, said Armstrong, it should “show us how to look into our hearts and see the world from a perspective that goes beyond our self-interest.”

At the Town Meeting to discuss Cape Town’s Memory Project, Judge Sachs said he was not against physical monuments, but that these were the least significant forms of memorial that cities needed. “The liveliest, the most important memorial is not out there; it is in our heads, conveyed through words and images, songs and gestures. The oral tradition is the richest, most powerful recorder of the past.”

He said there were all sorts of ways to pay tribute and discover the past. Crucial, however, was “dealing with it in a way that gives us energy and vitality to carry on as far as the future is concerned.”

ends