Coat of many Colours
South Africans watching the Oscar Pistorius trial have seen a lot of our national coat of arms. Sue de Groot explored its origins and found a rock painting that has a bit in common with Brett Murray’s ‘The Spear’
BEFORE “the trial of the century” began, few South Africans would have been able to describe our national coat of arms. Now, due to its prominent position above the judge’s bench, and the way some channels focus on it when not permitted to show a witness’s face, television viewers are familiar with every detail.
We are not all seeing the same thing, however. In an informal snap poll, I have heard the fierce avian creature on the coat of arms variously described as a snake eagle, a bald eagle and a fish eagle. It is in fact a secretary bird, so named because the feathers on its head resemble quill pens tucked behind an office worker’s ear. Secretary birds eat snakes, which may account for the mix up with snake eagles. Not everyone is a bird-watcher.
The badge above the bird is not a crown but a rising sun. Beneath it are two ears of wheat that symbolise fertility, elephant tusks for wisdom and strength, a shield in the shape of an African drum, a spear and a knobkerrie. The weapons are lying down peacefully, not raised in violence. There is also a protea, but no cricket bat.
The figures at the centre of the coat of arms have been interpreted even more diversely than the secretary bird. One young person, a Star Wars fan, thought they were “two robots giving each other a high five”.
They are supposed to be greeting each other, but the gender-neutral creatures are not cousins of C3Po. They are based on figures in a San rock painting found on a farm called Linton in the Eastern Cape. Now known as the Linton Stone, this rock was removed from the farm and in 1918 was put on display in the South African Museum in Cape Town.
Iaan Bekker is credited for designing the coat of arms unveiled on April 27 2000, but the government also consulted staff members from the Rock Art Research Institute of the University of the Witwatersrand.
They recommended the Linton Stone as a basis for the human figures, partly because the rock was safely ensconced in a museum where it could be visited by the public.
One of the figures on the Linton Stone carries a bow and arrow and sports a proud male member. After some argument it was decided to omit the weapons and the erect organ when redrawing the San figures that now clasp hands above Judge Thokozile Masipa’s head. Had this not been done, television coverage of the Pistorius trial might have been even more controversial.
The decision to castrate the figures and avoid sensitive outrage was understandable, but despite its prominent genitalia, the Linton Stone painting is delicately beautiful. The man with a bow and arrow stands on a dotted line. This line symbolised a healing power, which the San called
One young person, a Star Wars fan, thought they were ‘two robots giving each other a high five’
!Gi, that could be harnessed for the benefit of the community.
All this information is contained in a paper by Alan Barnard, professor of southern African anthropology at the University of Edinburgh. At his inaugural address in 2003, Barnard gave a lecture entitled Khoisan Imagery in the Reconstruction of South African National Identity.
In it he quoted former president Thabo Mbeki, who, in his speech introducing the coat of arms, said that the imagery “recollects the times when our people believed that there was a force permeating nature which linked the living with the dead”.
So it is perhaps fitting that this heraldry presides over a court where justice for the dead is sought among the living.
The motto on the coat of arms, written in the Khoisan language, is !ke e: /xarre//ke. There has been much dispute over how this is pronounced. Barnard favours a phonetic guide published in 2000 in East London’s Daily Dispatch: “(click)-eh-air(click)-gaara-(click)-eh.”
The official English translation is “unity in diversity”, which seems an apt motto in light of a trial that has given all South Africans a common topic of conversation. I put this to Barnard and he agreed. “‘Diverse people unite’ is only one translation,” he said. “// ke can also mean ‘to talk together’, as well as ‘to come together’.
My preference is, ‘ People of different origins are joining together; people who differ in opinion are talking with one another’. What better motto could there be for a new democracy?”