Why bother broadcasting in a vacuum?
Without spoken Tamil, the plug must be pulled on Southside Radio, writes Yogin Devan
SOUTHSIDE Radio should switch off – before it switches on.
Those campaigning for a broadcasting licence for a South Indian radio station are wasting their time. They are fighting a lost cause.
Southside Radio, which has been battling to launch a radio station for Tamils (and Telugus, as an afterthought), must return any money collected from its benefactors during the past decade – with interest, of course.
The Tamil language is almost dead in this country. To keep mother tongue or native languages alive, it is not enough to value them; it is essential to use them.
Without spoken Tamil, Southside Radio will be as useful as a hairbrush for bald heads.
The problem with trying to sustain a language-based radio station is that unless there are people who understand and speak the language, the radio station will be broadcasting in a vacuum.
Almost 160 years since arriving in South Africa, Tamils cannot boast their own radio station. Yet more than half of the Indian community has a Tamil heritage.
It’s true that the apartheid government controlled the airwaves for its own propaganda.
But 25 years since democracy, there isn’t even a feeble hiss from a Tamil radio station.
Meanwhile, Canada has more than 15 Tamil radio stations, France has at least five, Tamil Nadu more than 40, Sri Lanka has 15, Malaysia three and Australia three. Surprisingly, Switzerland, Pakistan and even the Vatican City have one Tamil radio station each.
All the countries mentioned have tens of thousands of people who can communicate in Tamil. Hence, it makes social, cultural and commercial sense to have radio stations they can listen to and enjoy.
In South Africa, hardly any Tamil is being spoken – even by older folk. Often a language’s death is recorded when the last-known speaker dies. That day is not far off for the anguage in this part of the world.
The Tamil language must not be confused with Tamil religious rituals, which are being conducted with great gusto in temples, thanks to the encouragement given by mainly foreign priests with an eye on the cash notes left on the brass collection tray.
Tamil, in its spoken form, became threatened when the previous generation or two decided it would be better for their children’s future to teach them a language that was tied to economic success rather than placing emphasis on the mother tongue. It was economically and culturally more beneficial to speak English.
There was a time when Tamil schools were in abundance wherever Indians were settled.
In the mid-’60s, ’70s and early ’80s, Chatsworth had more than 30 Tamil schools, run mostly from garages, temples and classrooms after normal school hours. Today, hardly one exists.
Since the dawn of democracy in 1994, embodiments of Indianness have been regarded as unimportant and have been slowly removed from the national psyche.
The closure of Indian studies at the former University of DurbanWestville, which also encompassed the Indian languages programmes, has also hastened the death knell for Indian vernacular languages.
The teaching of Tamil at schools has declined steadily owing to dwindling numbers. Twenty-five years ago, at least 20 000 pupils enrolled for Tamil as a subject at state schools. Then there were 250 Tamil teachers. Today there are fewer than 30 teachers who must teach Tamil to only a few thousand pupils.
Tamil movies enjoy disgracefully dismal support from people with a Tamil heritage in South Africa. In January, when the blockbuster Ajith-starrer flick Viswasam, which ran to full houses for weeks in Tamil Nadu, was screened in Durban, my wife, daughter and I were the only patrons in the cinema.
The cost of our three tickets would hardly have covered the pay for the projectionist and cleaners, let alone the popcorn vendors.
In days gone by, there was great interest in Tamil songs from the movies. Singing these songs kept the Tamil language alive. I have a cousin who would religiously buy the LP record immediately after watching a Tamil movie at a cinema in Victoria Street, Durban.
Nowadays, more Tamils watch Hindi movies than Tamil movies. More Tamils listen to Hindi songs than Tamil songs on Lotus FM. Not for nothing then that more Hindi music is played on Lotus FM because that is what the listenership demands.
Today’s youth have lost their Tamil identity. At most, they will regard themselves as Hindus. Even their parents have lost touch with the Tamil language.
For Tamil youth, their Tamil vocabulary does not go beyond words that describe the male and female sexual anatomy.
When the global Tamil language TV channel Star Vijay hosted a onenight concert in Durban in March with several of its popular stars, among them world-renowned singer, Shankar Mahadevan, there was no clamour for seats. Only half of the 5 000 seats at the Durban ICC Arena were occupied.
The excuse was that at R300, the ticket price was too high. Last week a bottle of Jameson whiskey was selling for R329 at Shoprite Liquors in Chatsworth. A month of abstinence from the favourite tipple would have paid for a family of four to watch a world-class music concert.
The Umhlobo Wenene FM radio station, which caters for Xhosa speakers, has 5.5 million listeners. Ukhozi FM, which caters for 7.7 isiZulu listeners, is the second biggest radio station in the world, superseded only by a radio station in China.
Community radio stations survive on advertising.
Will Southside Radio be able to attract sufficient advertising revenue based on the anticipated paltry listenership?
Forget about getting support from the Tamil business community. But for Serendipity Travel, Tamil-owned businesses did not come to the party to sponsor the Vijay TV concert.
A Tamil radio station must feature a fair amount of Tamil dialogue, songs and music.
If there is no spoken Tamil within the community, there will be little understanding of the language.
Hence, there will be limited listenership for a Tamil radio station, with a concomitant lack of appeal shown by the business community. To be financially sustainable, you need tens of thousands of listeners. The local Tamil community lacks an appetite for radio.
On the other hand, Hindvani Radio has strong listenership support from the pupils who attend the scores of patshalas (schools) run by the Hindi Shiksha Sangh.
I am sure Swaminathan Gounden, Balan Gounden, Subry Govender, Kiru Naidoo, Sally Padayachie and a host of others who are behind Southside Radio have good intentions.
But Tamil pride alone is not good enough. Understanding and speaking Tamil is required to keep a Tamil radio station alive.
The Southside Radio architects should first concentrate their efforts on reviving and restoring spoken Tamil and developing a critical mass within the Tamil community that will support Tamil media.
Only then will a Tamil radio station become relatable.