Open hearts and minds to cultural differences
I HAVE become more conscious of being Indian in Durban. The heritage of non-racialism is coded in my DNA. Yet it appears that something in these recent years is different.
Weaving myself into this storyline is deliberate. A celebrated author introduced me to autoethnography, derived from the work of Guatemalan feminist and Nobel laureate Rigoberta Menchú.
Her book, simply entitled I, Rigoberta, unpacked important questions facing her society and was told from her lived experience. The society in which I have always located myself is a bigger pot, locally grounded but globally enlightened. My personal definition into nation, nationality and patriotism, is cast in the famous opening line of the 1955 Freedom Charter: “South Africa belongs to all who live in it ...”
Yet increasingly I am forced to deal with a set of uncomfortable stereotypes and the discomfort of having to constantly explain myself.
“I thought you were different but you like these Indian things!”
The context of that charge is irrelevant. Suffice to say that I had to explain why I would go to the ends of the earth for stellar
Bharatha Natyam and carnatic performances.
On the other hand, I do the same for isicathamiya, European opera or Latin American dance.
My defence for soaking up the delights of cultural diversity are ably captured by Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore in Gitanjali: “Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls ... Where the mind is led forward by Thee into ever-widening thought and action; into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.”
My country is asleep. Asleep within its narrow domestic walls like the self-hating troll, who angered
me on social media a few days ago. The subject of his ire was the garlanding of President Cyril Ramaphosa in Chatsworth during his recent visit there.
I, along with many others, saw this as deep respect and reverence for leadership. I wished that my
brother had listened to Ramaphosa proclaim his “South Africanness” above his natural affinity for the tshiVenda language and his Limpopo village. I wished he had heard ANC KwaZulu-Natal chairperson Sihle Zikalala praise the courageous Indian heritage in the freedom Struggle, going back generations.
I wished he had heard Ramaphosa’s appeal to reconnect with the Indian community on the back of that proud history.
Ramaphosa’s entire track record embodies the spirit of reaching out, of uniting, of leading.
Ugliness on social media gave ammunition to another reactionary element, who asked: “Where are your people?” Often that comes from being among a handful of Indians in a national celebration or commemoration.
“My people”, I am told, are out shopping or showing off their conspicuous consumption of expensive cars. As with all stereotypes, that too is dangerous. My home community is Chatsworth, where there are armies of the unemployed and the desperately poor.
One must, however, deal with the dominant impressions that linger in people’s minds. The generosity of heart and spirit of King
Goodwill Zwelithini, in hosting the Deepavali celebration at his palace, for instance, has to be reciprocated by Indians joining in celebrations that are precious to Zulu people.
Few will be aware of the extent that Zwelithini went to in smacking down racist elements opposed to that celebration. As we approach this Heritage Day, look over your domestic walls. Look beyond the prickly comfort of your prejudices. Keep an eye out for the work of the Provincial Council on Social Cohesion and Moral Regeneration.
Its co-chairperson, Bishop Emeritus Rubin Phillip, has been beating the pavements to hear what is keeping us apart and what will bring us together.
I know of two work colleagues who will swop Zulu and Indian clothing to show respect for each other. That symbolism might just be the small step that we each need to take in reaching out to each other.
You will surprise yourself how well an open heart and an open mind is received.