When living in a country with a history as rich as SA’s, how the tales are told tends to get muddled. Something I learnt working as a student journalist at the University of the Free State.
At the time, the statue of Cecil Rhodes had just tasted its first fresh pile of faeces in the run-up to the FeesMustFall campaign. It was brought up in our diary meeting that the movement was gaining traction to do the same with statues on campus.
Our white news editor at the time was upset that once again her “heroes” were being vilified. To her, the biggest issue was that icons like Hendrik Verwoed, DF Malan or any other member of the Broederbond were part of her history and she could not understand why there was a need to stop celebrating them. Let alone wipe them from the face of the university.
I couldn’t help but remember this moment as I watched the Kill/Kiss the Boer court case between EFF leader Julius Malema and AfriForum unfold. After a successful proceeding in 2010, it was ruled that the song may not be sung in public spaces.
It left me with a striking thought – has AfriForum’s dispute played out as gasoline to the EFF’s flames that need to have Die Stem removed from the national anthem?
Enoch Sontonga’s page in the history book plays out like a charming subplot of a Hollywood biopic. The gifted clergyman was known for composing songs that his students could sing at public events. Originally composed in 1897, Nkosi Sikelel’ iAfrika eventually became the ANC’s official anthem by 1925.
The song caught on like wildfire, becoming a symbol of resistance, transforming it from a religious hymn to a political rallying call.
Meanwhile, one CJ Langenhoven had penned a poem that cemented the connection Dutch settlers have to SA. Three years later in 1921, it was reborn as a song, thanks to yet another divine intervention, this time by Reverend Marthinus Lourens de Villiers. The song became popular with Afrikaners who were defiant towards British rule.
The first fusion that the song went through happened when Die Stem and God Save the Queen were sung together, but the English part would be dropped as the National Party were not interested in saving Lilibet.
Other than this being another page from the appropriation of the Afrikaans language, neither song held any relevance to black South Africans as its content mocked the very existence of any person of colour in the country. But it was Nelson Mandela who got the final word on the fate of all of these tunes when his peace-loving approach to unity was paved by the decision to splice Die Stem and Nkosi Sikelel’ iAfrika.
The awkward nature of choosing to keep a symbol of apartheid as part of a new world has caused an understandable discomfort. The notion of omitting the bad parts of Die Stem in favour of more palatable lines has paralleled itself to slapping a band-aid on bullet wounds.
At present this awkward history played itself out with Malema and Mark Oppenheimer (AfriForum's lawyer), who has performed as something of a TV lawyer throughout the case. While he is capable of backing a witness into a corner and revealing their contradictions, he is also capable of having small fits and flubbed gotcha stunts. One such case is best represented by unwittingly giving Malema free rein to turn the witness stand into a political soap box.
In those moments, one of Malema’s messages seemed to have lasting bite. If the harmless history of Kill the Boer, as made clear by literature and culture scholar Prof Elizabeth Gunner, is going to be erased from the chorus line at gatherings then perhaps the hateful history of Die Stem should be on the same chopping block.
Both songs carry the same weight and both songs may have been unwittingly sent to the guillotine by AfriForum’s need to erase cultural experiences that do not relate to its agenda.
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