Remember the hardships of our ancestry
“VANAKKAM Periakka. How you? How are the children and Ganas?”
“All good Thumbie. We all good and how are you and Rajes? Weather is terrible. It always rains in Durban on Christmas… ”
“Sorry, I couldn’t come by this year. Rajes wanted to spend time with her family, ‘watmusIdo?’.”
“Aiyoh don’t worry Thumbie. Just make sure you spend time with Amma.”
“Ok Akka. What your’ll had for lunch. I’m stuffed. These people made so much food and all…”
Silence followed with an “um” from Periakka: “Nothing special Thumbie, just a roast chicken and some vegetables.”
“Oh, Ok Akka. Have to go now, Rajes is calling. I will come by in the New Year. See you soon…”
The call ended with tears rolling from Periakka’s face.
That year, Ganas was retrenched. The family of five lived on Ganas’s pension payout for the entire year and were barely making ends meet by Christmas.
That Christmas, Periakka lied to her brother about the roast chicken. She had instead cooked sugar beans and roti and the tastiest giblets curry.
Perriakka’s story is the story of many South African families amidst the surfeit that surrounds us every Christmas. For our indentured ancestry, this story is all too well known among many families.
Abject poverty
For the better part of our history, the majority of people from indentured ancestry wallowed in abject poverty. Renowned academic, Dr Mabel Palmer noted that in 1922: “The great mass of Indians were very poor, and they frequently occupied land on the outskirts of the town, which meant that every approach to Durban was littered by untidy and insanitary Indian shacks, while the actual conditions were even worse that they appeared from the outside.
“The shacks were badly built cottages of four rooms. Each room was usually inhabited by a separate family and the cooking was usually done in a communal shelter erected at the back.”
South Africa’s first Indian female doctor, Dr Kesaveloo Goonaruthnum Naidoo, confirmed this in her autobiography Coolie Doctor where she wrote about the conditions of the 1930s after she had returned from studying medicine in Edinburgh: “During my home visits, I discovered the depth of Indian poverty. The staple diet was mealie rice, dholl, herbs, potatoes and pickles. Protein was sadly lacking, meat, fish and chicken beyond their reach. I enjoyed the visits, but felt helpless against poverty
A day of rest
In a depressed economy of today, Christmas among the well-heeled is still celebrated with surfeit that ignores its spiritual significance. Commercial
obscenity denies that simplicity of living, which our indentured ancestry had become so familiar with.
Christmas on the plantations of the indentured was a day of rest from the slave-like conditions of everyday life. On Christmas day, the Kutum (family) would have spent precious time together, sitting down to enjoy a simple meal that brought momentary joy to their hard working existence. To them little was a feast.
Historically, Christmas was not celebrated on the plantations as the majority of workers came from rural parts of India where Christmas was not a big event. Cruelly, the colonialists referred to the festival of Mohurrum as our ‘Coolie’ Christmas.
This was a development from the fellowship of the indentured workers, enjoyed during “no work Sunday”. Sunday being the only day off from work was simply used as an opportunity for indentured workers to meet other workers from neighbouring farms, to worship and to socialise.
These Sundays foregrounded their
grand plans for the more organised public parade called Mohurrum.
Mohurrum was mostly a celebration to fleetingly escape the harsh realities of plantation life. This celebration was in many ways a source of brotherhood in the presence of an external gaze. In this ‘carnival’ called the ‘Coolie’ Christmas, hybridity was championed as opposed to theistic exclusivity.
Muslim reflections of saintly martyrdom together with Hindu ritual practice became a show of brotherhood that only circumstance can create. Caste, religion and creed were left behind in the ports of India to realise a consciousness that had no boundaries.
A jahaji consciousness that later saw Hindus and Muslims celebrate Christmas alongside their Christian brothers and sisters in kutum communities like those found at Railway & Magazine barracks, Tin Town in Springfield and much later on in the townships of Chatsworth and Phoenix.
Indian Christians
Indian Christians made up five percent of those who entered the colony of Natal as indentured labourers.
The Truro, the first indentured ship to reach Natal, brought with it an estimated 87 Christians. Reverend R Stott arrived in Natal in 1861, establishing the Indian Methodist mission by 1862, and most importantly starting the very first school for Indian children.
When the Indian indentured labourers were discharged from their indentured contracts, they were faced with the challenge of creating their own culture and community amongst poverty and restricted facilities.
It was through this challenge that Christian missionaries stepped in to assist the deprived Christian and Hindu community of Durban.
There was a growing need for an education system to eradicate poverty and unhealthy living conditions of the Indian community; hence there was a priority to set up missionary schools.
Initially, Father JB Sabon, who knew Tamil and worked with the Indian community of Durban and North Coast, set up a night school.
He started the first Indian school in Durban and brought Tamil literature from Ceylon.
He got pupils from all ages and adults involved in his school, although it was a Catholic initiative; it was open for all religions in the community. The school offered basic education skills to help in finding employment.
In 1904, Father Rauol Maingot came to Durban and he spent most of his time with the Indian community and getting involved in missionary work. He encouraged the move of Saint Anthony School in 1906 from the church to a well-furnished building in Victoria Street.
The school started with eight teachers, good education facilities and was graded as excellent by the head inspector in 1910.
Saint Anthony’s church and school continued to strive for excellence in both academic and social spheres. In the 1980s, the church became an active place where many UDF meetings were held to mobilise the masses.
The church became a place of memorial for activists’ funerals like those of Rick Turner, and Griffiths and Victoria Mxgenge.
Indenture brought with it many consequences and developments in a broader religious and sociological narrative. The unseen problems it posed to authorities of the dominant culture and developments for acculturation, all but helped in creating a diverse South Africa, as we understand it today.
Perhaps as we celebrate Christmas, we ought to remind ourselves of the hardships of our ancestry and that the beauty of life lies in simplicity not surfeit.