DO YOU BOO!.. On DA poets, hyper individualism and Black pain erasure

I lost my mother four years ago. Her name was Nowatu Linah Mpemnyama. Apparently her name was a bastardisation of this refrain, “Nokuwa-tu”, which means, you will all fail – fail to destroy her, derail her and so on. I figure issues of Xhosa jealousy paranoia, and witchcraft fears were behind her naming. Like most black females the intersectional nature of exploitative and oppressive social mores which dizzied most of her generation didn’t spare her too; but I glean and value her valour which was constructed from a position of weakness.

Her ability to resist is best represented by a spectacle they once created, her and her octogenarian friend whom we referred to as Magogo. They were at a Delft South ward ANC “old people”, end of year vote baiting feeding scheme. The story goes as follows: as they entered the hall, moans and groans emerged from the people – they had been verbally abusing the councillor for years, accusing her of being a chronic bungler, who along with her ward leadership always failed to implement proper service delivery. Because they were elders, they could not be denied the food parcels. So as they were leaving the venue they started again, calling the whole thing a farce, and calling out the councillor and her ANC lackeys on their corruption. The ANC people at the gathering got very angry. They yelled (I could hear them because our families house in Delft is exactly opposite the venue – the rent office, where the gathering was held – in earshot), “ningamaxhegwazana anjani? Nitya ukutya kwethu nogqiba niyas’thuka” basically meaning “how dare you eat our food and then swear at us, what kind of elders are you?” Magogo in her characteristic, shrill retorted back, “sitya ukutya kukaMandela apha.” “We are eating Mandela’s food, not yours”, and they left.

Now this scene enters my mind when I think of a recent Poetry Workshop I attended. Facilitated by one Dejavu Tafari and Vus’muzi Phakathi, ‘poetically’ themed- ‘with these words’, with an air of apprehension I attended. To my knowledge and from what I saw, the workshop was about how to perfect the art of performance poetry quilted with efforts to construct a united front to create a thriving poetic/artistic market. To their credit the two handled the workshop very well. But I was not there for that, I was there for the discussions that were promised after the performances. As I mature in art I’m beginning to appreciate the discussions more than the art.

Before the workshop ended all of us performed a few of our pieces and peer critique was offered and accepted in a jovial comradely fashion. Now as we were about to leave, I eventually got a chance to ask the question that brought me there in the first place. I asked on the link between art and politics and the role poets should play in the cultivation of the African mind. I even went further, to drive on the point; seeing that South Africa is one of the most unequal societies in the world, what should poets do with this disheartening reality?

Vus’muzi’s postmodernist leanings betray him as he wisecracks in a polished accent “do you boo.” Apparently this saying is from one Mfundo Ntobongwana, whom, as it seems from these poets, to have brought finality to an annoying debate. With shock permeating my face, I pressed on, “but isn’t that a cop-out for socially aloof art. Didn’t groups like Mdali and Mihloti from the Black Consciousness Movement (B.C.M), as well as the Black Arts Movement settle this debate in the 60’s and 70’s respectively?”

I could see I was annoying those people, and another poet, who told me straight to my face he didn’t enjoy my “political” stuff, suggested that in the history of poetry there have always been, even at times of war, poets that only wrote on love. He made a self- referential example, “me I write about God, I could write about those Nigerian girls [abducted by Boko Haram], but I don’t, I have no desire for that, do you my brother” he said with the others. I tried to give my take on the dangers of this ‘do you boo’ business, I failed.

On my way home my thoughts lingered towards my mother and one of her famous sayings – ‘sofa sifundisa’, meaning we will teach till we die. I also thought of all those poets, writers, painters, who just can’t crack this ‘do you boo’ nonsense, what happens to them?

So I went on Facebook to update my shock at this hyper individualised poetry which seems to be a standard today. The ‘do you boo brigade’ came to my wall to defend themselves, and as I watched I was struck by how all these defences reminded me of Lindiwe Mazibuko. At first I christened this sort of poetry ‘D.A poetry', but that didn’t go far enough. It didn’t wrestle with the racial hues of these blacks that have popularised an ‘art for art’s sake’ right wing political canon. So I called it ‘Lindiwe Mazibuko poetry’, and I personified it, thus: Lindiwe Mazibuko poetry is characterised by hyper individualism, a suppressed contempt for black people and their pain as well as deep seated desire to gloss over reality with Godly, Buddhist invocations. I went on to advice: if you are a ‘self-respecting’ darkie run away when you encounter Mazibuko poets.

I felt I had not done enough to explain this Mazibuko matter, so I augmented my theory thus: Lindiwe Mazibuko poetry also has at its core the desire for a post racial South Africa, which is rooted on the notion of a raceless nirvana.

Still reeling, I stumbled upon a Centre for African Poetry article of an interview with Kelwyn Sole, shared by a friend on Facebook. Defining beautifully the tension between art and politics, in it, the poet/academic Sole meditates as such:

“In the decade or so after liberation, some quarters in South African literature were arguing that politics as a theme was made redundant by the end of apartheid. Over time this view has been shown to be implausible. Moreover, whatever their intentions, those who argue it ended up in effect blocking political and social criticism at a crucial transitional stage. This being said, I guess my own definition of the word “political” has always been inclusive, because many aspects of our lives have a political dimension or are caught up in political issues. This of course includes our personal lives (although I don’t like poetry that gets to wrapped up in the personal it can’t see anything else.)”

Now with Kelwyn Sole and my beloved mother affirming me, I say to those ‘Lindiwe Mazibuko poets’ and many other like-minded artists, NOWATU!!! Some of us won’t and can’t get swept up by your black pain unseeing post-modernist hogwash. In a racially unequal society like ours the cultivation of a socially sensitive black aesthetic offers more for the future of this country!

I say do TRUTH boo! We don’t care much about YOU.