TIME FOR RHODES TO FALL

WHEN I saw protesters pull down the statue of the 17th century slave trader Edward Colston in Bristol, England my hope was renewed that in my lifetime the statues of the ultra-imperialist

Cecil John Rhodes in Kimberley will fall.

Colston was the deputy governor of the Royal African Company and in that capacity oversaw the shipment of over eighty thousand Africans to slavery. For over 120 years the black residents of Bristol had to live under the shadow of a man who traded in humans, black humans. As the world cries ‘Black Lives Matter’ in the wake of the gruesome murder of George Floyd by a white policeman in Minnesota in the United States in full glare of the public, people of all races across the Atlantic Ocean in Bristol saw it an opportune time to bring down the statue that the mayor of that city himself deems to be offensive.

Bringing this closer to home, Kimberley is a host to all manners of the immortalisation of Rhodes; from a suburb called Rhodesdene and a guest house on Du Toitspan Road carrying his name to him being put on a pedestal in a very busy corner in the centre of the city. The Kimberley Club, a prominent accommodation and dining establishment in the city, also hosts a life-size statue as well as a bust of him. In this city Rhodes lives undisturbed and in perfect peace.

Nigerian-british historian David Olusoga contends that statues are not about history but adoration. This explains why with so many historical figures in Kimberley the consecutive racist regimes chose to put up a Rhodes statue and named a suburb after HF Verwoerd, a man internationally known to be the architect of apartheid. Historical figures such as Sol Plaatje, ZK

Matthews, Robert Sobukwe, Sabelo Ntwasa, Jerry Modisane, Kousop, Galeshewe, Frances Baard, Phakamile Mabija did not deserve such honour. The authorities chose the figures they shared values with, whose deeds they adored and who they wished should not be forgotten.

Statues are not history nor are they about history; they are a major part of a particular narrative that the governing elite find attractive. There is no objectivity in relation to the erection of any statue. Minutes of meetings in relation to this attest to that. There are debates to justify why a particular person has to be immortalised in that manner. No authority has erected the statue of a person they deemed undesirable or undeserving of such honour. Statues are meant to honour people, to make them unforgettable, to make known their valorous deeds and to an extent promote their legacies.

The question we need to ask is: what has Rhodes done for the people of Kimberley, who are overwhelmingly majority black, that he so deserves to be on a pedestal in our city? He believed in the Anglo-saxon supremacy and did all he could to subject under British imperialist rule those he referred to as “the subject race” - the black peoples of this continent. In his eyes they were merely primitive and uncivilised savages. To him black people were not human enough to deserve not only the God-given dignity but even a share of the profits from the minerals dug on their land.

Chinua Achebe once wrote that “oppression renames its victims”. May I add that oppression also decides who its victims’ heroes are. In this case the past regime that was universally disgraced chose who its victims will see every day on their way to school, work and hospital and be reminded that “this is your hero”.

The removal of a statue does not mean tearing off a page in history; it is about agreeing that certain persons are not deserving of the honour. History is in historical novels, in films, in textbooks, in the relics stored at museums, in archives, in newspapers and in people’s memories. History is not on the corner of Long Street and Du Toitspan Road.

For his sins to humanity, Rhodes does not deserve to be on a pedestal in the post-colonial and post-apartheid South Africa. He deserves to fall.