Recently I attended a friend’s wedding held at Hermanus outside Cape Town. He’s the closest thing I have to a best friend. The following week he was leaving for the US to further his studies in one of the Ivy League education institutions. We were together at varsity in Johannesburg during the dying years of the eighties and early nineties, probably the most seminal years in the beginnings of our country’s democracy.
We sat together at the resort’s veranda watching whales in the moribund hours after the reception. It was a poignantly beautiful site that brought to mind something Keats said about a line in Spenser’s poem; “what an image that is—‘sea-shouldering whales!’ It sounds like something out of Homer, doesn’t it? Remarked my friend. The felicity of language and image has been both our passion. We sat back with our drinks, like whales in shallow waters, feeling the political weight of parting billows on our shoulders—the president of the republic had just been recalled by the ruling party under unsatisfactory conditions.
I think I understand now why you allowed your party membership to lapse after the likes of Mandelas were released; said he after a while (Though I had not been an official member of the African National Congress I still felt it to be my political home). Up till then he had been working in the national legislator. The recall of president Mbeki convinced him it was time to move on. We recalled how only more than a decade ago we brimmed with hope because we had worked ourselves into national pride. We wanted to be part of the brick and mortar of the new, brighter, future for our country. Now we were no longer feeling the spark that fired that pride. What had gone wrong?
We talked long about radical incongruities that cripple our national pride. It’s just politics, said I in the end, knowing very well that it was exactly what it was not. You see, to us at least, it was never about politics, but dreams of what the ancient Greeks called nomoi; the training of citizen for common good. To learn state laws—law here does not only concern regulating relations between people and their affairs, but formative creative agent aimed at instilling virtue of excellence in citizen-body. We thought we would be part of building blocks to instill culture of intelligence and modesty; paths of thoughts and practices inspired by democratic, human dignity and moral good.
We thought we could use politics to recover the African wellspring which was vandalised by the invidious experience of colonialism and apartheid. We meant to reverse the self-imposed loss of road markers, blood memory and subconscious mental habits of our people, so as to recover by excavation our indigenous ways. In short, we thought we would reinvest the notion of humanities with ubuntu. We believed the time had come for Africa to rediscover the expression of her soul, conceptualised by what Greeks termed paideia. [Paideia is a general education dating from the mid–fifth century BC, designed to prepare young men for active citizenship. It was further developed in the Roman notion of humanitas, set forth in Cicero’s De Oratore (55 BC). The Early Church Fathers, notably St. Augustine, developed it into a program of Christian education, built around the study of grammar, rhetoric, poetry, history, and moral philosophy.] We saw ourselves as agents of that in our country.
I mention all this to highlight the fact that, for us, it was never about politics, but about the refinement of our sentiments and moral sensibilities. When you disregard that, you kill the spark of national pride. We bought, lock, stock and barrel, into the idea of African Renaissance, the assimilation of creative energies from different cultural backgrounds and recovery of classical traditions, infused with penetrating light of what is best in all times. The eccentricities of the present ANC administration pour water into that spark. We found ourselves caught between our beliefs and their erratic behaviour, which we felt no longer correlates with our values and beliefs.
We needed a new home, a consistent political party that must stand outside the lure of false politicking. We need leaders that’ll take seriously the practice of our democracy, moral imperatives, social and economic justice. Who share our social view and moral principles. Who’ll not just give symbolic self-expression to them, readily disregard in promotion of group interest, or sacrifice to party interests. That is why we now see Cope (Congress for the People) as the new promise for our aspirations.
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The bride came fetching her groom for their first married night. Our eyes filled with tears; voices faltered. It might be a long time before we see each other again. “I always make an awkward bow.” The poet assisted. “Fill for me a brimming bowl.” Said I as they left. My thoughts mounted on stilts and cleaved on the mystical air of mournful whale cries. In the stillness of my heart I wished all of them joy in their mating season. What’s that Zakes Mda starts his book of similar title with: ‘The sea is bleeding from the scars of HarSaul . . .’ Ah, ja! The ancient sea is accusing the precocity of things.
