I am ‘Indian’ and I support Jackie Shandu.

By Juanita Chitepo

 I was born in South Africa, classified ‘Indian’ by the Apartheid Government, schooled with and educated by Indians. I still maintain a family home, in what used to be and largely remains a Group Areas Act Indian settlement, in Northdale, Pietermaritzburg. 

When I saw the news of Jackie Shandu’s comment, ‘one Indian, one bullet’, I was not filled with anger or moral outrage. I did not respond with shock or horror. My heart sank, and I was overwhelmed with a feeling of utter helplessness in the face of what I knew was going to be a backlash of mammoth proportion against this passionate young scholar and activist.  I believe Shandu was attempting to express a National and unspeakabable grief (that is being suppressed and ignored in a most inhumane way) through his use of a turn of phrase that is symbolic in South Africa’s history of protest. This is, in my opinion, the legitimate use of artistic and literary device to vocally express that struggle and the lack of actual power or,  as in this case, weapons.

To truly understand and obtain a holistic grasp of South African Indian racial prejudice of the kind that led to the Phoenix Massacre, and all manner of violence against Black bodies around the Province, including my town and area, one must have lived, breathed and moved among the ‘race’ as I have. But most importantly one must be seen as ‘wanting to belong’ to this cultural group, racial category, classified community, as apart from, and even against, other so-called ‘communities’, a term that seems to have become an accepted and constitutionally sanctioned euphemism for race. To associate with Blackness beyond any perfunctory level of interaction, such as labour, business or casual social niceties, is unusual, especially for Indian women. Inter-marriage is an ultimate taboo and will have you disowned, ostracised and isolated if not declared publicly insane.

It is difficult to be intellectual about what to me felt like an attempted genocide of Blacks by so-called ‘Indian Communities’. Discourse around Asian Anti-Black racism in Africa and abroad is by no means new. That Gandhi used racist notions of cultural superiority to plead the case of Indians as deserving better treatment and greater freedoms than their Black counterparts to the British is similarly well documented. To deny now, as absurd and untrue, that cultural, economic, socio-political and linguistic prejudices and behaviours kindled and nurtured by the Apartheid state and perpetuated beyond it by the permanence of the Group Areas Act as the ultimate social and racially motivated social engineering experiment, has led to this bloody moment in South Africa’s violent history, is National mental illness and tragic delusion.

I am terrified of Indian racism in South Africa. I don’t remember an exact moment of any realisation of it, but the recollection of my fear of it began as a child. It was triggered by sight, sound and general sense. The tones of voice and body language reserved for Blacks. The jobs reserved for Blacks. The language reserved for Blacks. The dishes and utensils reserved for Blacks. With the privilege of an educated and politically involved family, as well as by virtue of being in the Christian minority among Hindu’s and Muslims, my inter-racial social interactions were unusual compared to my peers. We socialised to some extent with people of all races and class. There was no overt racism in our household (which is not to say that it did not exist), which made it all the more complex and difficult to comprehend when confronted with the extremities of it among peers. Apartheid was ultimately a lived reality based on difference that we wore like second skin.

The late eighties ushered in a new era of discourse in Indian High Schools. Suddenly we were discussing the potential repercussions of a New South Africa in which we would have to integrate or at the very least assimilate. The idea seemed inconceivable. My most outstanding recollections of those debates were that the boys were up in arms that their half-clothed sisters would be at the mercy of Black predators at the local Olympic Swimming Pool. Any dissention was seen as lunacy and sexual deviance. General racist slurs, the gruesome sexual dehumanisation of the Black female body in casual conversation, the construction of the Black male body as representative of physical threat and sexual violence was the everyday stuff of my teenage years.

Thirty years later, the more things have changed the more they have stayed the same. I have developed a near phobia of leaving my yard for fear of what I will see or hear beyond it. They WE us THEM decent blacks LOOTERS stupid illiterate useless K……For the duration of the period in which so-called communities felt the need to patrol the suburbs armed with artillery, knives, sporting equipment, garden and household cleaning implements as well as Bob whistles in defence of their lives and property, I lurked awake, night after night, sick with fear that the men marching up and down past my house would get what they desperately wanted – A Black to kill, preferably a Zulu, but any would do. People died here. But it wasn’t a massacre and we’ll never know. People died all over. And we’ll never know. But we do know about Phoenix.

When Jackie Shandu made his statements on the stairs of Durban City Hall last week, I had yet to have seen any public comment or media coverage that located the Phoenix Massacre, or any other racially motivated violence in the Province, within the context of deep-seated entrenched Apartheid racism among White, Coloured and Indian so-called communities. The prevailing narrative was one of stubborn defence. While the bloodletting continued unabated the SA Human Rights Commission, the DA, African Democratic Change, The South African Hindu Maha Sabha and eThekwini Municipality said and did nothing. The contrasting response of the public to so-called Hate Speech as opposed to Hate Action speaks volumes of the hypocrisy upon which this Democracy is based.

Jackie Shandu retracted his statement for obvious reasons, made as they were ‘in the heat of the moment’. Had he not, I would support him anyway. If Mr Shandu is to be held up to the Nation as an example of the consequences of ‘hate speech’ where are the warrants of arrests for the hundreds of Indians, Whites and Coloureds (including teenagers) who filmed and posted to social media their hateful, barbaric incitements to murder (and in at least one instance rape) Blacks in so-called defence of property? Until that time, when the daily humiliation, deprivation and dehumanisation of Black Africans by Indians (and other minorities) is boldly acknowledged and addressed at its root I will stand by my support of both Mr Shandu and his statement and continue to reject the racist identity of ‘Indianness’ foisted upon me by both the Apartheid and current government, as an abomination and embarrassment. Bite that bullet.    

AmaCDE’s song, Umhlaba Uzobuya – Anti-Indianism or a cry for help?

I think it was 20th Century Catholic Archbishop who said when I feed the poor they call me a saint, but when I ask why the poor are hungry, they call me a communist.

Hold that thought

AmaCDE’s song, Umhlaba Uzobuya, has caused widespread controversy, sparking a national dialogue on the notion of what some view as “Anti-Indianism”.

The ruling party has come out strongly condemning the song and calling for its banning. In an opinion piece yesterday, Senzo Mchunu says “in a democratic country such as ours, we must work towards the creation of a society of people who live peacefully, and whose thoughts are of positive sentiments of love and concern for other people, thinking about how to help the next person. We need to work together to build the spirituality of all our people so that anyone who comes to Kwazulu-Natal will remember the smiles of the people of this province”

I met with the lyricist of the song yesterday.  This is good. Before we opine. Before we pronounce. Let us think. So a good place to start is with the lyrics. Do they condemn Indians? No.

The narrator of the song speaks of his abuse at the hands of an Indian Employer. In my work in alternative dispute resolution, access to justice and restorative justice peacemaking, this narrative is replicated in South Africa, across the board and across the races. But in Kwazulu-Natal, the demographics are such that in the main, in Industry, the Employers are Indian, and the workforce is Afrikan. And there is abuse. There is exploitation. There is widespread brutality. Let’s just be honest. Not in every workplace. But it is widespread.

If I were speaking of Industry in other provinces, the demographics may be different, but narratives of the workforce remain hauntingly similar: widespread abuse, exploitation and brutality. Sadly I’m not surmizing, I’m not guessing….I do this work. I get these calls. I get the first-hand cries for help.

I respect Senzo Mchunu’s sentiments. I really do. Much like the love and light brigade that would have us think only happy thoughts, that is the ideal and we all need to work towards a nation where is possible that beautiful South African smiles don’t mask the pain of widespread continued economic exploitation and exclusion. And the brutality that comes with it.

I am in the process of running an ADR Dialogue in this area of Kwazulu-Natal. A court recently acknowledged that public violence charges against a group of protesting employees were complex and acceded to submissions made, ordering an attempt at ADR Diversion. This is a managed dialogue process where all interested parties are invited to unpack, look at and dialogue around the originating source of protests that lead to the arrests of 46. An interim mediation summary is available. It is before the court already and you can get a copy from me at sheena@adr-networksa.co.za. The dialogue reveals that workers are subject to ongoing human rights violations in the workplace. Again, this is in Kwazulu-Natal, but if we are conscious in South Africa, we know that workers have similar narratives all over South Africa and at the hands of Employers across the racial divide.

But this is Kwazulu-Natal. For convenience I repeat: in industry, Employers are largely Indian. The workforce is largely Afrikan.

Cries for help are being and have been ignored. For over twenty years. And for about three centuries before that. So getting back to the AmaCDE song. This is a personal narrative. Someone is being abused. A story is being told. But it mirrors the narrative of many. It gives a voice to multitudes.  Are we then to say that it’s okay that the plight of millions of South Africans is being ignored. Cries for help amount to little. But then we say that we must not talk about what is happening to us because it might incite hatred against our abuser? Is this what we are saying.

I don’t think this song has sparked racial tensions. Racial tensions are there. We need to be honest. This song has the potential to spark action. Mobilize hope in our land. I notice we are spending millions to beef up police services. Police are not going to keep us safe. Let’s not kid ourselves. The only thing that has any hope of keeping us safe is that South Africans everywhere decide to get serious about dismantling systems that perpetuate economic exploitation and exclusion

The lyricist acknowledges the contribution of Indians to the struggle. He and the group he is associated with work with many Indians to dismantle exploitation and human rights violations. But there is an honesty that is needed. The world over Hip Hop artists say what others are thinking. Rise above the political correctness of “let’s think happy thoughts and say only positive things.” They confront real issues.

If we edge towards the shutting down of the creatives, I fear for all of us. That will spark the kind of anger that leads to war. Let’s not do that. As Steve Hofmeyr merrily leads his adoring fans in Die Stem all over and in the face of those brutalized by Apartheid, with abandon,  let’s have the conversation. Let’s use this opportunity to say what needs to be said and confront what needs to be confronted.

But let’s not tell the abused and the exploited that they may not speak of what is happening to them.

This is an opportunity for us to become concerned. We never change what we are not concerned about. And we can never be concerned about what we do not know of. The AmaCDE song tells us many are still in pain. It lets us know. We advocate for CARE over CURE. We need to become a deeply caring society. Care will leave us with less necessity for cure.

The cure strategy in this is banning the song. It will get us nowhere. The care strategy is let’s be honest. South Africans are suffering. This is an opportunity to start doing something.  1994 was about peacekeeping. But that is durable for only so long. We need to make peace now. And peace can only really exist where there is justice. And in our land justice will only be accomplished through the displacing of systems that allow for continued exploitation and exclusion.

So let’s not ban the song and think happy thoughts. Let’s really ask why this song was written and then do something.

Sheena St Clair Jonker is Founder: ADR Network South Africa and The Access Justice Association of Southern Africa
email:  sheena@accesstojustice.co.za


AmaCde ft Mandy – Umhlaba Uzobuya Lyrics:

Verse 1: Sang by Keke

For sure lapho ukhona, uyaz’buza singenzani ngama Ndiya, abheke iAfrika
emehlweni, abhixa usawoti ngesihluku esilondeni, kwelami noma elakho ilunga
lomndeni, engalitholanga ngisho nethuba lokuya esikoleni, elisebenz’
ekhishini, elima ngonyawo kusukela ngo7 ekseni, belinike usamoosa melikhala
ngelizokubeka ebhodweni, mAfrika senzeni, weNdiya wawufunani ezweni, weSizwe
esimnyama masibabheke emehlweni, sibatshele to go back and cross the ocean,
if bayanqaba it is time for action, mAfrika asihambe in one direction.

Chorus: Sang by Mandy
Wesizwe esimnyama x2
Umhlaba uzobuya x2

Verse 2: Sang by Anele

Ever since esemncane ingalo igcwele iyiphandla, siququzela abaphansi
basibusise ngokhanya

Gogo vuka uyithathe nangu uMzukulu uyakhala, uthi uzama ukuphanta kodwa
uvinjwe uNaicker.

Lento ngeke asayimela, ingakho umbona ekutshela, ucela ukuthi umlalele
njengoGogo umzwele

Angaze adontse umbese eqhaqhazela udhebe, uthukuthele uyaveva, ucabanga
imali kuphela

Asuke ahliphize aphihlize akhihlize ngempela isililo, umbone ekhahlela
ekhahlaza ebhodloza nanoma yini

Gogo please ngiyakucela, uMzukulu wakho uyaphela, uqilazeke ngempela,

Ngelinye ilanga wamtshela, uNaicker ukuthi akabheke, uma eqhubeka
nokuchwensa, akabe elal’ejeqeza.

Umbone dansa edlala iblukwe lixega ebumpa, uthembe ngey’khali zeyi’Nkedama

Ubuye amjulele uNaicker, ecabanga ukumdala, avinjwe uthando lweyingane,
kodwa afunge uzombamba

Umbone eqhakaza eshalaza ehamba nanesphalaphala, uNaicker ufisa  nokuphalaza
uma esembona ephila kahle,


Verse 3: Sang by Vumani

Perhaps the time has come for us as blacks to stand, and make it known to
all we want to own our rands, we sinking in debt, our lives standing still
in this land, where’s the Messiah, lomuntu wasidayisa eCodesa, look at this
mess, kwakwenze njani sithemba leyandoda, ayi shube ngempela, ngishintshe
indlela ngivuse uMageba, vula neyindlebe, ngoba uzogcina ususala ngempela,
ngeke bam’qede, uZulu omnyama soze bam’mela, amandiya awahlehle, ngoba
lomnotho owakithi kavele, ayiqhume lempempe, sikhiphe amageja ngaphansi
kombhede, sihlakula kphela, bagcwale ngokuthi lelizwe solifela, impi
ngempela, ezakithi zidinwe ngempela, the struggle is on, sesikhathele
ukugibela u4 4, sifuna amaPorsche, sifuna amadladla, sifuna nokuhola, imali
ethe xaxa, ukuze siphile kangcono, makuphela inyanga ngimamatheke sengiyo
layisha umghodla.


Verse 4: Sang by Mnqobi

Aphi lama leader, athath’izwe alidayisa, izizwe ziyashleka sixhashazwa
Amandiya, koze kube nini ngibuza nina abakhulu, ngiphila njenges’qila kwizwe
lobab’mkhulu, okub’hlungu, bamukelwa ngomusa baphenduka ekugcineni basenzela
ukusa, kunini suhuzuka, kunini besithuka, besincela igazi, abantu bakithi
bentula, akuphele konke lokho manje kleva kwanele, asivuke sime ngeyi’nyawo
kubacacele, uvukile uZulu omnyama sonke asihlome sihlasele, lelizwe elobaba
laba ngeke basitshele,


Verse 5: Sang by uNyazi

Nina abangumntsintsi wokuzimilela la KwaZulu, nina enafunza zonke izizwe
ngokhezo olukhulu, nina omhlaba ungowenu, nina enagila amangisi igoda empini
eSandlwana, nina enafela izinkulungwane zezukulwane ezintabeni, nasemfuleni
wase Ncome, nina enafunga ngegazi ukuthi uZulu ngeke bam’nyomfe, nina
enaqala umbutho olwela ifa labaNtsundu, nina enakhala khakhulu uMkhomazi
wagcwala ngomoya, nina nathi anesabi lutho zonke izimpi ayihlome, nina
enahlakaza inhlamfu nenhlasi yamangisi ngomlomo, nina enaqonda nqo
kwakhophozela inganono, laqhaqhazela uqhaqhaveyana eliwuGhandi, ngoba wayazi
umZulu nendiya abazwani,

Nina enibenza bakholwe ngokubona ngamehlo, kaze iphi imbumbulu edume ngoku
kama ngehleza, kaze uphi uMashu owawenza uBotha aphathwe inkwantshu, kaze
uphi uMlazi owawuhlonishwa iSpecial Branch, kaze uphi uMkhumbane izwe lama
dela kufa, kaze iphi iLamonti ikasi elisebenza ngoMankasi, ulwandle luhlehla
mbinjane ebese libuya ngenkani, kaze aphi amahostela ngibuza imizi
yezintsizwa, Awuvuke uZulu uvuse nezizwe eysalele, ngoba kusenja singathini
umakuvuka iLembe


We don’t have an english version of lyrics because that will no longer be
the song kanti nesintu sithi isiZulu asitolikwa