The not so potty idea that spawned a movement

One year on, UCT student Chumani Maxwele looks back on his protest against the statue of Cecil John Rhodes

THE catalytic act of March 9 2015 was a political protest, the possible impact of which I understood very well. However, what I did not anticipate were the events that, as a consequence of our action, unfolded at the University of Cape Town and other South African universities as well as other universities in the world such as Oxford.

During my time at UCT a lot has taken place in relation to debates about the racial exclusion of black students on financial or academic grounds.

Just before the end of 2014, I attended a symposium at the Institute for Humanities in Africa. Sabelo Mcinziba — now parliamentary liaison officer for Deputy Minister of International Relations Nomaindia Mfeketo — asked UCT vice-chancelDr Max Price when the statue of Cecil Rhodes would be removed from the campus.

Price did not answer the question because, he said, he was not there as a panellist and the topic of the panel was not about statues at the university.

After the symposium, three friends and I went to Kalk Bay to eat fish and chips at the harbour.

On the drive there, we discussed how frustrated we all were that Price had refused to answer the question about the statue. We discussed the possibility of doing something ourselves about it.

I spent the whole of December of 2014 thinking about the statue as a symbol of white power at UCT and how it could best be removed from campus. I meditated and went on long runs in an effort to process my need to act radically in confronting the institutional and personal racism at the university.

I met with one of the three friends who had accompanied me to Kalk Bay to talk more about a plan of action. He suggested we use the human excrement that runs exposed through Khayelitsha so that we could speak to the urgent need for human dignity for the black people who live in shacks there.

He said that by throwing poo at the statue, we would demonstrate how Rhodes had mistreated our people in the past. In short, the act of covering the statue with poo would be an institutional appraisal of UCT.

By the end of January I was already thinking about the ways and means of making this act of political art less punishable, should I get caught. I feared that if I acted without being registered as a student for that academic year I might lose my financial aid. So I waited until I was registered.

Then I remembered Infecting the City, a live art performance festival in and around Cape Town.

The opening date of the festival, which has been cancelled this year due to a lack of funds, wasMarch 9.

I decided this was the right date for my own protest performance. The courage I felt was almost equal to my fear, but I was determined to do what needed to be done.

On the night of March 8, I asked my friend and housemate, the artist Dathini Mzayiya, to make placards for my political performance.

If the university confronted me I would say I was participating in the Infecting the City art project that was organised by an institute associated with UCT. I would say that, as an artist, I did not need to be on the formal list of performing artists to produce art works that speak directly to the university challenges of institutional and personal racism. This justification erased my fear.

I knew that I really had to come up with an art piece befitting a public performance. I borrowed a drum from UCT’s music school and went home to look for something that would go with the drum. I had my pink makarapa [a construction worker’s hard hat] and a whistle. My performance tools were in place. I decided to perform topless in my running tights and my running shoes.

I woke on March 9 with all the energy I needed for the day. I phoned a cab driver, who told me the trip to Khayelitsha would cost R250.

Off we went. Near Mew Way, I got out of the car, fetched containers with poo and put them inside the boot of the car. Then we drove off towards UCT, first stopping off at Mzayiya’s studio in Woodstock to collect the placards.

At the studio I phoned the Cape Times and e.tv to inform them of the political performance at UCT.

Then the cab driver dropped me and my performance tools on Upper Campus.

A group of students and their lecturer were gathered around the statue of Rhodes and I told them a political protest was about to start.

I put safety tape around the statue. And then I started to throw the poo on the statue, simultaneously blowing my whistle and beating the drum.

Campus security guards came to me and asked what was happening. I told them that it was performance art, and they let me carry on.

By midday, other black students had joined me and there, on that day, March 9 2015, the #RhodesMustFall student movement was born.

A year later. I am happy that students across the country have identified their own #RhodesMustFall issues.

I am equally pleased to see that students are challenging the status quo, the language policy, curriculum, culture, signage and symbolism on the campuses where they study.

However, I am a bit concerned about suggestions that there is a “third force” at play in these student movements.

To prevent this we, as students, have to articulate what we are doing and our collective goal.

If we fail to do so, others will distort our narrative of black pain.