PROUDLY AFRIKAN

By Marcia Nonkululeko Tladi

It took a few phone calls to track her down but had it taken a million, we still would have made those calls. We wanted to know more about the person behind the distinctive and authentic voice of Mama Letta Mbulu. We wanted to tap into some of that essence; to see the detailed score of what her music said and so it was with much anticipation that we three kushites, Marcia Nonkululeko Tladi, Solomon Moremong (photographs) and Kush Khoza awaited the arrival of the legend goddess outside the Michael Angelo in Sandton. She arrived – no bodyguards in tow – wearing only dignity about her shoulders; head clad in wrap. Her not-put-on humility, warm hug and smile knocked the anxiety right out our return smile and it was with this bonafide ease that we sat down to a morning chat. As is the reputation of Kush, we took the matter by the horns and got right down to business…

What is wrong with grooving?

I really have not performed “What Is Wrong with Grooving” for many, many years. I think the last time I did it was in San Francisco. I think maybe what happened to me was that I outgrew the song because I was performing it all the time. I wanted to zero in more on… well, it was a social commentary song as well but I wanted to go a little bit deeper. [There were only 500 copies of it printed & it is collector’s item]

With regards to the music of the 60’s and late 70’s; in that period a lot of American artists’ sound started to move towards Afrika; Donald Byrd, Max Roach to name a few. Would you say that Afrikan artists [Fela, Hugh, Thomas, Marley, Makeba] encouraged that move?

I do not want to minimize our role but when we arrived in the United States there were a lot of artists in America who were already Afrikanised, Donald Byrd was one of them. Odetta, who was a folk singer was another one. [Odetta Holmes (December 31, 1930 – December 2, 2008) known as Odetta, also as "The Voice of the Civil Rights Movement" was an American singer (American folk, blues, jazz, spiritual) actress, guitarist, songwriter and a human rights activist.]

Nina Simone, maybe?

Nina Simone to a great extent because you see she was born in New Orleans and her mother was a spiritual woman and so that whole Afrikan influence, she found at home. But of course Sis’ Miriam Makeba, the late, did enhance her understanding of what was happening in Afrika musically and there were also artists like Harry Belafonte who worked with us a lot. He was very, very Afrikan in terms of his performances. I mean, I was surprised; he was one of the first people to talk about Afrika and the struggle of South Afrika in particular, when it was not fashionable to do so. And then I can talk about people like Ossie Davis, a movie actor and his wife Ruby Dee. I came and met them already Afrikanised. There were people like [John] Coltrane who was playing Afrikan sounds so there were those who really were searching in spite of what was happening in America. They just told themselves “We know we come from greatness and we’re going to find that greatness” and they did so some of them really influenced us. It was the other way round.

As a musician from South Afrika and seeing that you sing your music mostly in isiXhosa, isiZulu, sePedi, etc, how were you received by Americans, especially Afrikan Americans & what do you think your influence was is in America?

It was very difficult because most Afrikan Americans were not ready to accept themselves as Afrikans but, we made inroads because we said, “Hey, this is who we are and you have to accept us the way you see us.” But there were other people in the black communities who wanted us to do our thing, who liked what we were doing, who saw themselves as part of it. I will give you an example; [Dr] Maulana Karenga who actually originated Kwanzaa; we were there when he was trying to create it. He had a lot of young people in the organisation and most of them were students. We saw this thing grow. He was the one that influenced the universities and influenced the students to demand Afrikan Studies. So those are the people who really supported us because they were not intimidated by the fact that we were Afrikan people. They wanted to be part of that. And that audience built us, you know and accepted us. It grew from California, to New York to Boston and the southern part of the United States, it was even better especially if you went to New Orleans because they have always celebrated Afrika. To them, that has always been part of their lives. But for instance there were those Afrikans who were not afraid to call themselves ‘negroes’ but with time, they eventually just said “You know what, we like what you are all doing and we want to be part of it.” So in the 70’s the struggle really grew and we were part of that. We influenced the Karenga organisation, we showed them South Afrikan dances, gumboot, music, it just became a huge thing.

How was your music received here at home?

Fortunately for us we started making our music in the United States, South Afrikan music. We made our music and we sang Afrikan songs in the United States and we sent that music here so when we came back everyone wanted to hear this Afrikan music that we were doing oversees because to them it was a question of how do you live in the United States and be able to brew Afrikan music! To us it was natural. It was natural because we realised that in the United States there were a lot of artists coming from different countries and for instance I saw a woman by the name of Celia Cruz from Cuba. She performed at The Village Gate [Manhattan] after I had performed. I was amazed. I said, “I don’t believe a Cuban woman singing Cuban music and doing what she’s doing, making people stand up,” you know. Another person who helped me to truly understand was Miriam Makeba when I went to see her for the first time at Birdland. When I tell the story a lot of people look at me [as if to say] “No, it’s not possible!” Bill Cosby was curtain raiser for her. There was also Mongo Santamaria; he was the second act of the show – before Miriam. Miriam was the star. I said, “Okay! This is Miriam Makeba. I know this woman.” And when she opened her mouth and performed all those South Afrikan songs, I knew that this, is what I want. I said, “I don’t have to do American music. I can do what I feel.” What I feel! She really liberated me. Two women liberated me. And when I worked with Harry Belafonte, for the thirteen years that I worked with him he said to me “I love what you do, I want you to continue doing it because this make you different from what’s going around the country.”

To relate that to South Afrika, with the current crop of musicians in South Afrika today you cannot have the same setup where you have a South Afrikan artist that will go to America or anywhere else in the world and headline a show of that magnitude. What do they need to do to for them reach that level? What’s the missing element for us to produce the same caliber of music as you, Mam Miriam, Johnny Dyani, Chris McGregor [Blue Notes] to name a few?

I think artists in South Afrika find it difficult to focus on themselves. At the same time we have SABC that is constantly bombarding young artists of this country with stuff from outside. We went through it ourselves but there was a consciousness at the time, you know, the Manhattan Brothers, The Woodpeckers who were very influential in making sure that we do not stray too far. I think, when we left there was a huge void and young artists started thinking that what is being played on TV, on radio is what they need to do and unfortunately we don’t have schools in South Afrika that teach young artists, those who aspire to be artists so that they can be able to control their own destiny. They are not skilled. They just do it because there is that strong feeling; the spirit of being an artist. You do not have the tools that take you to another level. I really believe that SABC needs to play a very important role but then they are not going to do it until the people of this country stand up and say, “We are tired. Enough is enough. We want our own music on the radio stations.” That is what happens all over the United States; you hear their music. They will play you because they think you are good. You are a novelty to them. I still remember when Hugh Masekela came up with a hit record called ‘Grazing In the Grass’, there were a lot of producers who said “Who the hell is Hugh Masekela to have a hit record in the United States of America” but it did happen because people loved it. Then there was a problem; they realised [that] “if we allow Afrikan artists to come here and dominate our airwaves, we are going to have a problem.” And rightfully so! We understand that. That is what we need to do here.

…and your voice! Young South Afrikan artists are not even close to its quality! Is it the high notes that you hit?

I really think it is the spirit. When you focus on something that is away from you, you run into a wall because you are trying to use your voice like what I would call ‘monkey see, monkey do’ so you really never get to your own spirit so that that voice flies. Because you are concentrating on “I want to sound like that person.” It is okay to say that, it is alright because you learn but you have got to get to that point where you find yourself and when you find yourself, that is when the spirit takes off. I think that is the problem. I am beginning now; I have to be honest, to pinpoint artists who are beginning to find that spirit for themselves. I would say for instance, we have uThandiswa Mazwai, we have also uSiphokazi who is really just stretching out with the incredible stuff that she is doing and many others that I am hearing that are really dealing with their own spirit.

Simphiwe Dana?

Simphiwe Dana, of course. Actually she started with her own spirit so I have to say that about her. She really just “boom! This is who I am.” So they are getting there. I listened the other day to a song on one of the white stations. I am not sure if it is Jacaranda. They were playing an old song that Ringo Madlingozi sang when he was trying to come into the business. It is a very, very white country song and I was amazed; this is him? But look at what happened to him when he finally found himself. He just flew. So I think if we can get more artists going through that change, that metamorphosis, I am telling you…

Speaking of that, it is well known that Thandiswa Mazwai went back home to the Eastern Cape. She documented the experience. She went to learn what it means to be an Afrikan, Xhosa woman. How big a role does that play in finding your voice as an artist?

Yes, I saw that. I think that you have to start there. It is very important for an artist to start there; to go back and dig those sounds. For instance, I was helped by a man here in South Afrika by the name of Stanley Nkosi. He would send us records. We would ask him “Please send us whatever it is you have so that we can stay focused and be in tune with what is happening at home” so we would play a lot of records. One particular record that he sent to us was done by a traditional group. It was a conglomeration of artists. Some artists came from Swaziland, eMaxhoseni, eMampondweni and some I think from Lesotho but there was one song that is called “Mahlalela” [off the Hugh Masekela’s ‘Presents The Chisa Years 1965-1975 (Rare & Unreleased)’ album and more recently ‘Giles Peterson in Africa’ albums] which I heard and I said, “Wow! This is interesting.” It took me back to where I come from and I said, “I remember these sounds from when I was a kid.” You would see an old man coming from the mines playing an old guitar, walking alone in the heat, you know. And I said to Caiphus, “Listen to this song. You have got to work on this song. This is the song!” and he worked on it and when we recorded it, it was amazing. It is a truly, truly amazing song and it took me back. So you really have to constantly do that; to refresh your spirit all the time.

In the context of what you have just said, where would you place your voice?

My voice, I really would not claim it because it is a long family history. It comes from my great grandfather, ‘ozala uTat’ umkhulu’. He was an artist, he was a singer. He gave it to his son, his son gave it to my mother and my mother gave it to me. So it is a long line and I am very grateful to my great grandfather and to my grandfather and to my mom. They should claim this voice. So they know where it comes from. I am just happy that I was able to harvest it and hopefully I did well by it; I did not mess it up.

Working with Hugh?

Masekela? Great! Great! We toured together. We went to lots of places together. He is a really wonderful guy and he actually worked with my band when I was doing my first engagement at The Village Gate. He worked with them, put them together and carved a wonderful thing. So he is a trooper.

You also shared a stage with Nina Simone. What was that experience like?

Nina was a great artist and it was an opportunity that I will always cherish for the rest of my life. She was an icon. She was not only a performer she was an educator. You left her show having learnt so much just from watching her and you knew that came from the bottom of her heart and mind. I think it is unfortunate that she died too soon. South Afrika never got the opportunity to watch her perform.

Who would you say stands out for you as the greatest artists that you worked with and what are some of the other great moments that you cherish?

I have a lot of artists that I worked with in the States. I worked with Cannonball Adderley, I worked with Nancy Wilson, Roberta Flack; we were coming from the same stable. We had the same management. So I was touched by all of them. I do not really want to compare because they were all great. I think the moment for me in the States was when I did Roots with Quincy [Jones]. I worked with his musicians and when we put the album together for Roots, for me that was the ultimate because it took me back. It brought me back to South Afrika, spiritually and I saw those ships that were bringing people to the States and I became part of that history. History that is incredible. I still say we are very tenacious people to have gone through that and still be [alive].

What about “The Color Purple” though?

“[The] Color Purple” was good. I liked it but I really think that they missed some things in the story and I think it is because they had Steven Spielberg to direct the film. And I know that there were a lot of people, especially in the black communities who were against him directing it because they knew he was not going to understand the story fully and that is exactly what happened; he missed some very important points.

What was it like working with David Axelrod?

Crazy man! He was great. He was the producer of my [debut] album, [“Letta Mbulu Sings”] but I really met him through Cannonbal Adderley because he used to produce Cannonball and that is how I fell into that. But he was great; very nice.

And did he capture that sound?

Well, he did not do anything to be honest with you. He just sat behind the board, from behind the desk. Caiphus was there, Cannonball was there and they were pushing the buttons, “Okay! Yeah! Right!” and the orchestra was conducted by [HB] Barnum. He is a conductor now for Aretha Franklin. So I was surrounded by black talented people and he was just there to say, “Okay,” they would say push that button and he would push it.

You also worked with Cannonball Adderley on ‘Naturally’ which came out in 1975. In the same year, Abbey Lincoln released an album called ‘Naturally’ as well. Is there any connection, have you ever worked with her?

Okay. I did not even know about that. Great artist! I met her in the States because she came to live in Los Angeles; she had moved from New York. And I met her also with Miss Miriam Makeba when they were in Liberia. She went and lived in Liberia for a while, so did Nina Simone. And then I saw her again when she came down here to perform in Cape Town at the Jazz Festival. I think that is the very year that I performed actually when it started, when they opened it.

Only in your second last album ‘Culani Nami’, did you insist on writing all the songs? Even though you have written before for people like Mam’ Miriam Makeba, why did you insist only at this point in your career to write an entire album?

Yes. I wrote my songs. When I came back, there was a time – I do not know what was happening with me – there were just songs coming into my mind and I would sit down on the piano and doodle and things would happen and also another thing that was propelling me was that I said to myself, I am tired of singing political songs, I want to do something, I want to do love songs and I did write those songs but somehow I just could not get away with doing love songs because my conscience [was] not allowing me to do that so I wrote two songs that were talking about social issues. I think that is what really happened; I was really planning to come up with love songs and my husband kept saying, “Yeah right!”

It has proven difficult to get your earlier music in South Afrika. When is your music coming out because when you go to the music stores, they always have ‘The Best of’?

They have it. It is just that when you go to the stores those albums go so fast. I have a new album out now and it is hard for people to find it. But those compilations are there.

Do you have other music that has not been released?

In South Afrika? I have songs that I recorded [while I was] young on a demo. Those were actually the first songs I put on a demo, years ago and my husband has been saying “We really need to release this stuff.” We were going to put them on the [recent] album but we ran into so many problems technically. We just could not do it but maybe we need to release those songs by themselves; we were talking.

Working with Ntate Caiphus, what is that like? He is a musical genius and another thing that you have in common with Abbey Lincoln is that you have genius musician husbands. Did that help you focus? [They both acted in films with Sidney Poitier. Letta Mbulu in ‘A Warm December’, 1973 and Abbey Lincoln, ‘For Love of Ivy’ 1968]

Yes I think that was quite helpful, especially somebody who listens. You can have a relationship with someone who is an artist and maybe you do not listen to him. I am not sure how that happened. I am not sure whether it was because of the South Afrikan struggle and we were in the United States and we needed to really kind of band together and do things and focus on the struggle because most of the time that is really what we were doing. We knew that we had a role to play and we had the platform to use. So maybe that played a role as well. He is a good writer and I have to give that to him. He has really done some fantastic work for me as an artist and I have also contributed a lot to his arrangements in terms of words, as a lyricist. So we work very, very well together. He has a temper but I have been with him [for long], I understand it. We always try to balance what we do; when that temper comes up, when I see it coming, I know it is the artist in him, it is not my husband. It is about music now and I guess he has a right to be temperamental. So we try to make sure that we separate things.

How did the Woman’s Struggle fit into the Liberation Struggle? We spoke to Mama Miriam Tlali and asked her the same question. We asked her why she did not write about women’s problems until later in her career and she said that had she done that at the time when the Liberation struggle was at its prime, her work would have caused a division between black women and black men and that the Apartheid Regime would have been glad of that, they would have taken advantage of it. What is your view? And do you think the Woman’s struggle should still take a backseat today?

My take exactly. Her take is my take. You see we have a culture in South Afrika, in the continent as a whole but let me speak for South Afrika. We never had the problems that everybody is talking about between men and women because we were very highly cultured. We were taught the roles that we are supposed to play as man and woman. Men never stepped on our toes because there were rules – not to do that. We as women, we never stepped on their toes because there were rules so what happened is with time and 1652[The arrival of Jan Van Riebeck]; as a result of 1652, things started to fall apart. We had our men harassed by European men. You must find a job! You must have a pass! You must have this! You must do that! Because now we were powerless as a people; imagine your man having to go out and look for a job. This man owned a farm. He had land, imfuyo and all of a sudden he finds himself naked. Now he has to go find a place for you and his children. He has to carry a pass that makes him look like he has no sense and then he comes back, he did not find a job. You go and work now for Missies; cleaning house, taking care of somebody’s babies. When you come home you are tired, you are so stressed, he says to you, “ukudla kuphi?” and you say to him “Well, you know, I’m tired, I’ve just came from work, abantwana and all that…” He is short tempered because he knows that when he went out there looking for a job, he did not get it. He cannot even tell you that. So we were very stressed when those things happened and those stresses we are still going through them. That is why to us the Woman’s Struggle, yes we need to talk about it, but we need to go a little bit deeper and not be on the periphery about it because that is what we have been doing. “Oh, you know these men want to treat us badly” but we really do not go deep and understand what happened to us as a people. And that dialogue has to happen between us.

What do you think can be done to address the psychological damage that was caused so long ago, that resulted in men often oppressing their women in their homes because the roots are not here, they go far, far back? They go to these men’s fathers, their fathers and the fathers before them.

Dialogue. We need to call Imbizo as a people. We need to go to all the provinces, sit down and have a serious discussion about what has happened to us. We are suffering from that psychologically and emotionally and until we deal with those problems we will have this conflict that is going on. We need to talk about it. It is something that has to be organised very soon on a very large scale. We just cannot talk about it [casually].

When you came back from America you released “Not Yet Uhuru”. What did you expect to find when you came back home? In the video, one can see the disappointment from when you arrive at the airport, when you are walking through the shacks. I think, in the video, you remember a time when you were young and you were playing skipping (jump rope), a man that must be your father then arrives and picks you up. He has a beautiful car and the streets are clean.

I do not think I really had expectations but I think what was surprising to me was that yes, I know I grew up poor, in a poor neighbourhood; all of us were but we were very clean people. We have a saying; “Re badidi ba ba matepe!”[We are beggars that choose!] So I expected to see that. I got there, I did not see that. I saw poverty that had quadrupled and that is what was shocking to me. I went home to Soweto and I could not even find my home because it looked completely different. It looked like there had been some kind of a war in Soweto, in Orlando East. I went to Alexandra Township were my husband comes from and the place was just nothing but devastation. Yes, yes we were poor but listen; there was some order in our lives. I did not see that. That is when “Not Yet Uhuru” came to mind.

Your children were raised in the United States. Did you feel that because they were there, they were missing out on something essential here at home?

Yes, indeed.

And when you look at the youth of this country today and the level of ignorance about the Liberation Struggle and about Afrikan culture in particular, do you perhaps think that it was better to have raised them there?

No. [With] my children, it is a pity; I brought one of my kids here when he was about eighteen months old because I wanted him to learn one of the languages at home, Sesotho or isiXhosa. Maburu did not like the idea so when he turned two, he was deported; sent back to the United States because they said his parents are communists and so forth. But anyway, coming back to what you were saying, my kids were taught about South Afrika. They were taught who they were. They speak the languages perfectly and they did not start speaking them here. They spoke them over there because we had rules. We said, “You know you spend eight hours at school learning English? Fine but when you enter that door coming back from school, o ko ha Semenya sa Mamasai. We want you to speak Sesotho” and they caught up with it. It was hard for them at first because of the eight hours at school of speaking English and then you have to come here… Eventually they just did it. And now they are so grateful that we did that for them because now they are in and out. They want to speak English? Fine! But they speak Sesotho and they write it because we made sure that when they came back home they spoke to their grandmothers in Sesotho.

What do you think of the exodus of young learned black people from the townships to the suburbs, taking into consideration that the suburbs are closer to work of course? How do you view the fact that it means that our children will inevitably attend English-medium schools and very often then forget their languages?

I think it is something that we need to talk about as South Afrikans because I have a problem with people trying to say that we should be in a particular place so that we can be able to speak a particular language. My take is that this is my land. I can live anywhere. If I had money I would build my house on Table Mountain in Cape Town because it is mine; it belongs to me and I hope that we can inculcate that in our children. They can live anywhere; that you do not have to forget your language. You can speak your language anywhere.

But where do they learn it?

In schools. If you pay taxes in this country, it is the money that goes into those schools so as a parent you have a right to say my child in this school has to learn a particular language. The fault is with us. We do not really stand up for what is rightfully ours. That is the problem and also in Soweto, we need to get teachers that our children can identify with. It is very important. If the teacher is white in Soweto, s/he must be able to speak one of the [Afrikan] languages. We must make that mandatory. The parents in this country are not taking the initiative. Let me give you an example, my son came back here, he was fourteen years old. He went to the [National] School of Arts in Braamfontein. He is now a film director. When he was doing academics, they told him that he had to pass Afrikaans. I knew he was not going to do it. I just knew it. When the exams came, he wrote and he failed and the principal called me and his dad. He said, “Your child has failed Afrikaans. We don’t think that he can move on.” I said, “Okay, now, let me tell you something; my child did not grow up here. He grew up in the United States but that is irrelevant. Afrikaans was one of the languages that were detested by students in this country and our children are still reeling from that. There is a blockage to them learning Afrikaans and my child speaks English. He has written it. He has passed it. He has passed all the subjects except Afrikaans. Now, Afrikaans is not spoken anywhere [else] in the world not even around the borders of South Afrika. My child cannot fail a language that he is not going to use. He is not going to use it anywhere in the world except in South Africa. If he fails, it is because he is not going to use it anyway. So there is no point in you failing him when he has passed Geography, History; all these subjects that are going to make him somebody so let us not even deal on that level“ and he said “Okay.” My child passed. That is why I am saying, parents; we let people get away with it. If we all stood up and said no, they would stop.

Was that not the case with your generation as well? What has been termed the ‘Soweto Riots’ was started by students who felt at that time as well that the older generation was taking too much of a submissive role under oppression by the National Party. Are we not in the same situation as generations before us? What happens? Do the older people give up?

Some do. They see themselves as people that have no role to play. But I think the youth need to engage parents. We need to call mothers. Call us, all of us and tell us what you feel and let us know where we are going wrong or what we are doing wrong. You will be surprised at the result of that. I think it is just that we are not engaging our parents because it is my mother, how do I go about doing that! We need to call them and say “Listen ma, I’m hurting because there are things that I would like to know from you that I am not getting. What can you tell me? And if you do not know, do you know somebody who knows who can help me move forward?” We are not engaging our parents and I think that is the problem. Young people need to engage us.

You spoke earlier of Steven’s Spielberg’s work on ‘The Color Purple’. Now, the stories of Soweto in the form of film, the photography of Soweto are still mostly done by white people. Why are we not telling our own stories do you think?

It is a problem. The problem is that white people get funding and black people do not. They are able to get away with it because they have funding. We are all talking about the Rainbow Nation – minus the colour black. That is okay. It is really a very big problem and until young, talented, black, focused filmmakers get the funding we are going to be talking that story.

The University of Pretoria offers a Philosophy course in Ubuntu Studies. They teach you the principles of Ubuntu, how to have Ubuntu, maybe. Is that possible?

No. You cannot teach me Ubuntu. It is something that you grow up with. It is a culture. How do you teach me my culture? What do they know about me? There is no way you can understand that because it is deeper than theory. I do not know how to explain it. It is not theory. It is a way of life and I do not think a way of life can be taught in any university. It is the Afrikan way. We have amasiko, siya esikweni as Afrikan people. How do you do that without sending your students [esikweni]? Ubuntu is very deep. I just think that it is a diversion. My first question would be if you talk about Ubuntu, thina kuthi it is that, “What you steal, you bring back!” That is Ubuntu. That is number one. Now are they teaching that? Are they teaching people to bring back the land that they took from people? Hey!

Are you still involved in the civil movements or political scene?

Yes and no. It is very difficult to be involved in the political scene for me because I think that there are a lot of things that still have not been explained to us as a people. For instance, we talk about ‘The People Shall Govern’ and when you look around, we are not governing. I cannot be party to that. We talk about education or ‘… the venues of learning will be open to all’, yet there are children still running in the streets. There is a clause or a paper that has been put together by our government to talk about reconciliation, I do not know what is in that paper, nobody consulted me and so I have a problem. I really think that in order for all of our people to move forward, we need to know what is being put down on the paper so that we can fully participate. How do you participate when there is so much information that you do not know anything about? So I have a problem.

These days I am struggling with the concept of the Black Middle Class – Black Diamonds being just one element of it – What are your views on that because for me that is the biggest threat to the things that you have just said? You find that there are people that are coming up and it is more about them and what they have and things like that.

Material things. First of all, I question the middle. I have a problem with that. I want to know, I am middle to what? I run this country. It is supposed to be my country. I should not be second-class to anybody, I should not be middle. If I am middle, who is high? Those are fundamental questions we need to answer. Exactly, who is at the bottom? I have the same problem that you have. But I think if the so-called middle class understand the role that they are supposed to play in society then it is okay with me because if you are going to be middle class you have got to run things! You have got to be in charge. You do not take the money and put it in the bank so it collects dust. You take that money, you spread it around. Find a way of doing it and I will I give you an example, when Black Empowerment came about few people were empowered through BEE by corporations. People do not realise that banks were ready to pay that money out because they were avoiding taxes. So that money went to you and to me. Okay, fine. What should have happened, as far as I am concerned and that is my opinion, that with the giving of the money we should have been given rules as well. For example if you are given the money, in five years time I want you to have trained so many people, maybe twenty people and that twenty people in five years time, have trained another twenty each” so that this pie is spread around. When you give somebody money, there has to be accountability especially if that money is supposed to be for the people. So I really think that something was lacking when that money was given. They should have been given orders that this is what you do with it.

Is that corruption not generally what happens when Afrikan countries gain what is referred to as their independence? Is that not what happened in Nigeria, Zimbabwe and Ghana, etc – in all of them to a different extent of course?

That is definitely going to happen because when you go to schools that are teaching us a particular way of life, particular values, we end up not pledging allegiance to ourselves. We pledge allegiance to the west and that is the problem. That is why Afrika is the way it is. An example, in the United States you have what is called Ivy League universities; Stanford University, Harvard University, Princeton and Yale. Those universities are not there by mistake. They are there to teach the leaders of tomorrow how to run the country. We go to the universities that they have created and then we come back still thinking about Europe and then what do we do? We do not implement anything. Our schools do not teach us how to rule. In traditional Afrikan societies what we do normally is that Inkosi, if you have a son and you’re a king, your son is taught from the age of seven, in case something happens to you, how to rule; imithetho. Now tell me, our presidents, where do they learn to run countries? So when it comes to them, “Oh, fine now I’m positioned” but they do not understand. That is why in Afrika it is important to go back to our way of life so that we can teach our people how to rule. Have you ever heard of amakhosi ethu killing each other? No. Why? Because there are rules that they have learnt. We take tradition very lightly but it is very, very important. That is where we should learn how to run countries.

We are busy changing street names, names of airports, etc. What about the name of the country? Do you think we should change the name ‘South Afrika’?

I think that should have been the first thing that we did because there is no country in the world that is called by a cardinal point. We should have changed that name a long time ago but I remember we talked about that before we came here while we were in Zambia with people from the ANC. We discussed the changing of the name but they had a problem because the name that was picked came from PAC so okay, if it is PAC they cannot use it. They have not changed it. It has to be changed but also more importantly, another name that needs to be changed is ‘Koloni’.

Mpumakoloni?

Colony. And we say it proudly, ”Ah, ndiy’eKoloni!” That also needs to be changed.

What do you think of the name change of Old Potchefstroom Road in Soweto to ‘Chris Hani’ ?

I saw that. As far as I am concerned, I do not think that they should have named it after him. They should have found something to do with the military to name after him because he was a soldier and as a soldier he should have been given something that has to do with the revolution or the military, of some kind or a building or something but not the hospital. I just think that it should have been named after some of the Doctors who held the fort when a lot of us were outside the country. They were busy helping patients who were coming in, who were shot and just taking care of the health of the people in this country but then you know, hey, that is another story for another time.

Who is your greatest Afrikan leader?

My greatest Afrikan leader. Sobukwe. Sobukwe is my greatest leader… and Steve Biko.

Why do you think great Afrikan leaders are not acknowledged?

Because we are fearful people. We do not like the truth. Those guys did not pull punches. They did not turn the other cheek. So, unfortunately we are not ready to deal with the truth. But you know what, the truth has a way of coming out and it will eventually. We just have to vote.

Marcia Nonkululeko Tladi is a Soweto born writer of poetry, short stories and is currently working on her 1st novel.

Tags: Abbey Lincoln, Nina Simone, South Afrika, United States

This entry was posted on Monday, February 7th, 2011 at 9:41 am and is filed under PROFILES. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.