Ja. Edition 5 by Ja. Magazine

15 Oct 2015 Edition 5

hose of you who’ve been following our publication for even a short while will know that Ja. mag spends a lot of its time discussing the state of the South

African arts scene (In this edition we even chat about it with a few artists you may know). Most of the time, we’re slightly bitter about it too. Recently though, there’s been a resurgence of appreciation for local art, and we’re really stoked about that. We do however, have a few gripes (told you we’re bitter). While sites in the vein of OkayAfrica and Between 10 and 5 do well to platform South African artists, shouting names from the top of their timelines to the rest of the world, the names thrown around are becoming all too familiar. What’s that? A prominent Cape Town DJ’s sample track of a Fela Kuti song just got remixed by a European garage producer? Gosh, South Africa really is coming up in the world. How many times do we have to hear about Okmalumkoolkat’s latest collaboration (let’s be honest, he does about five a week), or Thor Rixon’s anti- gluten world tour before we’re told about someone new? The gatekeepers of local art need to start shifting their focus away from what’s hot and hyped, and shine a bit of light on the lesser heard artists: The spoken word poet who’s putting everything into an open mic night that rolls around once a month, the performance artist who’s grappling with conflicting notions of masculinity—are we getting too passionate and preachy? We tend to do that. Shit, let’s just get on with it already. In this edition we’ve got a combination of big fish and up and comers. We hope you take the time to look through all of their work and enjoy. Thanks for reading!

Ja. team Creators and contributors: Dave Mann, Niamh Walsh-Vorster, Werner Goss-Ross, Youlendree Appasamy, Yoraya Nydoo, Leah Solomon, Callan Grecia, Tarryn Gabi, Tiger Maremela, Athandile Mntumni, Olivia Walton, Isabel Rawlins, Mookeletsi Manyathela, Michelle Avenant, Glen Manning, Sarah Rose de Villiers, Acoustiq Assassins, Buli, Steve Hogg and Dope Saint Jude.

profile

THE LOVE DOCUMENTARIAN WORDS BY LEAH SOLOMON

Trying to make it as an artist in South Africa isn’t easy. Employment prospects in the realm of the arts aren’t good and many individuals rely on start-up campaigns or a supportive group of friends to get going. Sometimes though, all it takes is a new twist on an old market to get your foot in the door. Based in Cape Town, Josh Hundermark has been in the filmmaking industry for over two years now, specialising in wedding film. Leah Solomon called him up on Skype to discuss his passion. PHOTOGRAPHS BY JOSH HUNDERMARK

’ve known Josh for over a year. I met him at an old club called Red Door in Pietermaritzburg. The first things I noticed were the black plugs in his ear and his tattoo on his left arm. This is a guy you can get along with. I immediately jumped to the conclusion that Josh was part of the Maritzburg ‘core’ scene and in a metal band. I wasn’t entirely wrong, but that’s not what makes him a stand-out character. Josh is a wedding filmmaker and has done it all on his own, with his talent for film and capturing the love that people share, stemming from an unlikely source. “My dad used to travel a lot so my mom and I would spend evenings watching chick flicks together and over time, I gained a kind of appreciation for those films,” he says taking a sip of his coffee. Josh grew up in Pietermaritzburg—a great city to start a family in, but not the best of places if you’re looking for self-exploration and creativity.It’s a stifling place and one that can trap you all too easily.Josh was trapped for a while. 4

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“When I first left high school I after the next.” didn’t do anything for about three The thing about Josh is that months and I learnt to hate doing he’s the guy in the industry who nothing,” he says. “But I always everyone hates. The one who just had an appreciation buys a camera and starts for amateur a business. He’s also the filmmaking so I “When I first left high guy who loves what he invested in a camera does, does it well, and school I didn’t do anything and I filmed my first has only just begun to for about three months wedding.” tap his potential. and I learnt to hate doing His first wedding nothing,” was awful. It was After being in the outdoors, it was rainy, film business for and it made him over two years, Josh question why he even picked up a has established a clear brand camera in the first place. for himself, a brand that is unexpected from someone who “Even though it was a terrible first has gaping holes in his earlobes time, for some reason, people liked and is covered in tattoos. He is my work and I got booked one a documentarian of love. Not 6

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only does he film, but he’s picked up photography as a hobby and even tried his hand at wedding photography.

With North American based wedding filmmaker Joe Simon as inspiration, a strong belief in marriage and genuinely loving what he does, Josh has enough drive and motivation to keep “I can create something that can his business alive and hopefully last their whole marriage thriving.

“I am so stoked that I’m filming real life love stories,” he and every time they’re despondent proudly admits, they can watch it and relive the looking away from the screen in happiest day of their lives and the a moment of quiet promises that they made to each realisation. other.”

“It’s amazing that I can create something that can hopefully last their whole marriage and every time they’re despondent they can watch it and relive the happiest day of their lives and the promises that they made to each other.”

In an age where divorce is all too common, Josh is hoping to provide newlyweds with a memory that they can turn to for reassurance and guidance. 8

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rants

Rants

BODY POSITIVE – EYEING THE THIGHBROW WORDS BY TARRYN GABI

The Internet has, this year, been at the forefront of multiple important discussions around dismantling established ideas of identity, sexuality and embodiment. A particular conception of the feminine and the feminine body has rightfully come under attack as part of these conversations, especially as a result of the increased exposure of intersectional feminism and its critical approach to understanding interlocking systems of discrimination, domination and marginalisation. The problem is that alongside the meaningful work being done to open virtual spaces for critical thought, some truly mundane trends have caught on. Call it slacktivism, call it really bad ‘80s hi-cuts – our new saviour in the quest for body positivity is the thighbrow. ILLUSTRATIONS BY TIGER MAREMELA

A thighbrow is that slight curve or fold at the top of your thighs. I have a natural thighbrow. I spent the better part of my teens trying to achieve a thigh gap. It was this relationship to body awareness that piqued my interest when I first encountered the idea of the thighbrow on Facebook. White heteronormative patriarchy has resulted in a world in which many girls are taught to see themselves in relation to their value to men.

Indirectly, this also means women end up policing their own bodies, and the bodies of other women, which fosters an externalised self-image dependent on the approval of others. I often marvel at the fact that in high school, the ideal girl was slim, but with an impressive bust and firm, slender legs and yet all the boys who chased the petite girls are now sharing badly edited memes of women with great asses. The irritating part is that curvier women are 11

Rants now lashing out at their slim peers with lines like ‘Only a dog wants a bone’. Talk about blaming the effect and not the cause. When I read up on thighbrows, I was not surprised to see a few continuities in the way this trend tries and fails to remake self-image, and ultimately continues to encourage competition and idealisation of what a ‘real women should look like ( here’s a hint: alive). To stop myself from rambling on too much, I’ve listed them in points:

IT’S HETERONORMATIVE There’s a debate in feminist literature at the moment around the question of whether a woman sexualising herself is a form of self empowerment regardless of the fact that it feeds the male gaze, or whether feeding the gaze earns empowerment a moot point. I don’t have an answer for you there. What I can say, however, is that the approach to the exposure of the thighbrow is telling. One of its main proponents, Khloe Kardashian, was photographed in a thighbrow pose for a magazine cover essentially celebrating her transformation from the ugly sister to the hot swan. Half-sisters Kendall (a fashion model) 12

Rants and Kylie Jenner (Instagram sensation, if that’s a thing) have shared similar poses— Kylie in bedroom selfies in her underwear, Kendall on the deck of a yacht. The issue at hand is that their presentation of the thighbrowas positive- image conflates it with the idea of being sexually attractive, which, even if it isn’t intentional, is not a very beneficial contribution to a culture that already treats women as sexual objects.

IT’S CONCERNED WITH FITTING AN IDEAL The thigh gap was slammed because it was seen as the continuation of a trend of unnaturally thin women in the fashion industry influencing the self-image of ordinary young girls and women who often resorted to dangerous measures to get runway worthy bodies. When the thighbrow arrived, it was hailed for being an achievable goal and for celebrating women’s bodies. Its portrayal however, is in the form of a toned, taut, impossibly shapely female celebrity who is celebrated for loving their shape – while on the other side of the Internet, ‘plus size’ 13

Rants women are insulted and degraded for daring to wear bikinis. Despite being portrayed as more inclusive of different body types, the fact is that the thighbrow just adds to a long list of what ideal women should look like, and further distances women who donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t conform to that list from their connection to societal standards of beauty. It also encourages heinous choices in swimwear better suited to Jane Fondaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s exercise videos.

IT PLAYS INTO THE HYPERFEMININE BODY TYPE COMING BACK INTO FASHION At different points in history, different body types have been considered attractive, and these are often a result of gender relations and socio-cultural conditions. The present obsession with the hyperfeminine, curvaceous woman has likely had multiple influences over time. From famous singers and actresses, to musical references in popular culture, both of which have coincided with the critical rejection of antagonism towards the body types of Women of Colour (WOC) and the portrayal of the ideal woman as slim, leggy, and blonde. The strange bedfellows they may be, 14

Rants they act as a breeding ground for the ideological grey area that allows absurdisms like the thighbrow to gain prominence. The problem is that this addition to the list of the ideal woman erases the body issues faced by individuals with non-normative sexual and/or gender identities and acts as a distancing mechanism. As mundane as thighbrows may seem, they form part of a broader impression of what constitutes feminine attractiveness and excludes those whose bodies do not fit the ideal.

IT SUBMITS TO THE IDEA OF A WOMAN’S BODY BEING OF MORE VALUE THAN WHO SHE IS The fundamental problem of the thighbrow and its slacktivist approach to body positivity is that it tethers a positive body image to actual imagery of the body. It is not concerned with the ability of one’s body to be healthy, functional, and able to live out daily life; nor is it concerned with the fact that body positivity as it is presently understood, only serves to recalibrate the patriarchal gaze. It is still locating selfworth – an intrinsic sense – as external to the self that exists beyond the physical 15

Rants

appearance of the body and rather through its functions, actions and thoughts. It is crucially important that all bodies are recognised for their worth and their beauty, but it is more important that beauty as a measure of worth is discarded entirely. As long as something is beautiful, something will need to be not beautiful in order to render 16

comparison valid. I would hope that self-positivity would become a more achievable and worthwhile goal than body positivity. As someone with a history of body dysmorphia, I know all too well what having an externalised sense of self-worth can do to a person when they donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t like their body

Rants

all that much. I also know that too much emphasis or reminders of your flaws and the details of your physical appearance can destabilise any attempt to build a positive self from within.

quite okay not to like it as long as you can enjoy the parts of yourself that matter â&#x20AC;&#x201C; your goals, your passions, your personality and your ability to contribute meaningfully to the world. It might not look that great on Instagram, but I think it would make for a far greater image of what kind of ideal to strive for.

As this Cafe Avant-Garde article explains so well, it is quite okay not to feel too hot about your body. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s 17

Art

BLACK MIRROR BY CALLAN GRECIA

he past 20 years have yielded an ever improving technological regime— one that I have grown up within and been influenced by. I have found myself, like most who have been exposed to the Internet or things such as cellphones and TV screens, both immersed in, and dependent on these technologies.

We are now, more than ever, an informational society. Machines watch us and we watch machines. Private space no longer exists as we continually post and repost, tweet and hash-tag the stream of, now tangible, consciousness on social communities, as they are colloquially known. This body of work has been made to emulate the concept of the ever increasing image economy that we have been made a part of through technology. It aims to reflect the life of mass information consumption we are so familiar with today, through a painterly translation of digital images found on Tumblr and other social media.

The most influential of these mechanisms has been the Internet, with much of my world being augmented by my interactions with it. This I think, is caused by the constant bombardment of images and information— an essentially new social condition where the black mirror of the screen begins to reflect what it is that makes us who we are through what we see and engage with when we look into it.

YOU CAN VIEW THE FULL BODY OF WORK ON GRECIA’S TUMBLR.

Art

WORDS AND PHOTOGRAPHS BY DAVE MANN

Spray paint has a weighty, wet smell to it. It’s chemically sweet, and metallic. Prolonged exposure to its fumes brings on high, whiny headaches and dizzy spells. That’s why you should paint with a gas mask. But then you’d miss out on all the smells, and that’s one of the best parts. ILLUSTRATIONS BY WERNER GOSS-ROSS

y first encounter with graffiti was at the age of 14. I wrote ‘poes’ on a vibracrete wall in the park down the road from my house, using a can of hardware store ‘Brilliant Black’ spray paint. It’s still there. I must have lingered around that slice of suburbia for about half an hour, chain smoking loose LD Menthol cigarettes. I waited for the elderly couples to finish walking their dogs and the ADT guard to reach the end of the road on his bicycle before I moved anywhere near the wall. I don’t know why I did it or why I chose that particular word, but I remember how the rush of it grabbed me so strongly. A few years later, I spoke to Toe, a Cape Town graffiti writer. He told me that the rush you get from putting up your first tag stays with you forever. He was a lanky guy, with watery blue eyes that darted nervously as he spoke. He said the rush gets mixed up with all the other senses you experienced at that particular time, almost as if they carve out a small bit of your brain and make a home there together. 20

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Whenever I smell spray paint, my heartrate increases a little, I get nervously excited, I crave a cigarette, and all I want to do is to go out and paint something. Maybe there’s truth in what the beady-eyed graffiti writer told me. Maybe he was just gacked on paint fumes, and I’m really just experiencing prolonged withdrawal symptoms. There are varying types of spray paint which carry with them varying scents. The colours are the most interesting ones. The pistachio green is weak, but nauseatingly dry and gassy when used for anything more than highlights 21

and outlines. The sky blue- a personal favourite- has a synthetic bubblegum scent to it. If it dries on your skin, your fingers smell like the cheap, colourful plastic they use to make the kids toys in Happy Meals. The chrome sprays from a widenozzled, fat cap and covers vast areas at once, overpowering whatever space you’re painting. It’s a thick, choking smell that shocks the nostrils and coats the lungs, allowing only short, sharp bursts of breath.

Art Then there’s the Molotow Matt Black. It has a strong scent of liquorice to it and when painted in thick lines with a fat cap, resembles the sweet itself. Montana Nitro 2G smells the best. If you could capture the smell of hastily executed vandalism, sweat inducing paranoia, and cold, untouched concrete, you’d get a can of 2G.

then coming back together to morph into a large concrete tunnel or bridge were our playgrounds. Some of the guys would tie Checkers packets around their shoes so they wouldn’t get shit all over their Nikes. Most of us went barefoot, risking broken bottles, dead animals, and whatever else populated the waste we’d wade through.

“Some of the guys would tie Checkers packets around their shoes so they wouldn’t get shit all over their

It’s not all about the paint though. Graffiti took me into many different spaces- beautiful spaces, disgusting spaces, terrifying spaces- all with their unique odours and aromas. My favourite spaces were the canals. Myself and a few other graffiti writers used to go out during the day on Sundays looking for secret spots. The spots that you could put on some headphones, pop open a beer, and paint in peace without the fear of getting arrested or chased. The various open top sewers and canals that ran throughout Cape Town, splitting up into suburbia and

These spaces carry distinctive scents for me. The stagnant rain water in the canals, the hot, sour whiff of dead, bloated moles that scurry blindly into Nikes.” the sewers to drown, and the sweet, stale smell of dried human faeces that’s been left to bake in the sun. Like all smells, you get used to them after a while and they begin to characterise the space for you. Just as the soft smoke of lavender incense reminds me of the living room in my parents’ old house, dry, cracking concrete and browning canal water will always remind me of the Sundays spent traipsing through the city’s hardened 22

Art arteries. I haven’t painted for a number of years now and I still miss graffiti every day. In fact, traces of graffiti writing are so deeply imbedded in my everyday life, I’ll never shake them. Like the way I have to stop and think of street names when giving directions instead of going to my automatic locators and saying, “Ja you just take a left there by the blue tag and carry on towards the road that the old Falko piece used to be in.” Black kokis and felt tip markers still get me childishly excited, and I prefer the train to cars or taxis, because the trackside routes always bring new graffiti. Every notepad I

own is covered in graffiti scribblings, I still hold onto my tattered, taggedup, high school backpack, and shit do I still love the smell of fresh paint. People have specific places in their minds that they go to when they need to centre themselves. For me, it’s standing ankle deep in the cool water of a lonely canal on an exceedingly hot day with my shirt hanging from the back of my shorts, sneakers tied together, hanging around my shoulders, and a spray can in either hand. It’s completely silent, except for the hiss of spray paint. I can’t access that place whenever I want to. It’s trapped inside a memory that’s triggered only by a smell.

photography

MY COMMUNITY THROUGH A NEW LENS PHOTOGRAPHS BY ATHANDILE MNTUMNI

A Grahamstown local, Athandile Mntumni is a photographer based in Extension 10 who focuses much of his work in the broader Joza community. While he has experience in journalism through the Upstart Youth Development Programme, Mntumni’s passion for photography was ignited after entering and winning the Fotofence competition earlier this year, which encouraged applicants to showcase their view of Grahamstown through photography.

“I

like drawing attention to my community whether it’s the good things or the bad things,” explains Mntumni. “I think these photographs show my society and how things are done in the townships.” Through his latest photographic work, Mntumni seeks to shed light on, and eradicate certain stigmas that come with living in the township while at the same time, highlighting some of the issues he believes need to be dealt with. Citing his background as a constant source of inspiration, Mntumni aims to develop his capacity for storytelling through photography, hoping to one day become an established photojournalist. “You can live with nothing,” says Mntumni, “But if you have a camera in the palm of your hand, you have the world.” 24

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THE NATURE OF BEING AN ARTIST WORDS AND PHOTOGRAPHS BY NIAMH WALSH-VORSTER

I often find myself in long, intense conversations with friends on the state of the creative industry in South Africa. Most of the time we have no idea what weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re talking about, but we connect earnestly in trying to figure it out - which is the exciting (and kind of exhausting) part. In order to find out more about the topic, I have begun an ongoing portrait and landscape series of people involved in various artistic mediums to tell their story of the nature of being an artist.

ANDY MKOSI Andiswa Mkosi is a Cape Town rapper and hip hop artist. Andy is currently working for Primedia, and has worked at Live Mag SA as a photographer and photography mentor. She is co-founder of Jam that Session, a company in CT that works at promoting creative and alternative spaces for artists.

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I STALKED YOU A BIT ONLINE. IN ONE INTERVIEW, YOUR REASON FOR WHY PEOPLE SHOULD CARE TO LISTEN TO YOUR MUSIC WAS BECAUSE YOUR “STORY IS UNIQUE”. THAT WAS TWO YEARS AGO NOW. SO WHAT IS YOUR STORY EXACTLY? Hahaha the whole ‘aah my story is unique’ line sounds rather overrated. Every artist claims that because, really, all our stories are unique whether you’re an artist or not. My story continues to unfold. I am in a different place now since that

interview, a space where I am constantly discovering myself through the little things. YOU IDENTIFY YOURSELF AS AN ARTIST, WHAT IS IT LIKE BEING ONE IN CAPE TOWN? Cape Town, oh man I have been here most of my life. Sometimes it feels like a routine. It’s like watching the same movie over and over again, just the characters change with the sequels. We’re all auditioning for a part in this local movie. Most of the time I am plotting on breaking out of this local 27

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â&#x20AC;&#x153;We tend to forget to celebrate the small achievements, other people fear even starting.â&#x20AC;?

photography movie. With all my might I believe it doesn’t end like this. Sometimes the city makes me feel like it’s all in vain. I love Cape Town though, I just feel we need to try and play for other teams and break out of our cliques, support art for art and not because Mikey or Kanyi is affiliated with it.

Sibahle—a celebration of Africanism through the use of creative mediums. The way she has recreated this idea is wonderful. It started online and now it exists in other forms. I guess what I am really saying is artists in other spaces are fearless. I admire their ability of reinventing themselves and their ideas constantly.

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT PLACES SUCH AS JHB, DURBAN OR EVEN OVERSEAS AS SPACES FOR OUR ARTISTS? (I MEAN, PETITE NOIR SEEMED TO GO THE LATTER ROUTE, AND HE SEEMS TO BE “MAKING IT”).

WHAT IS “MAKING IT”? YOU RELEASED YOUR EP NOT TOO LONG AGO. THAT’S A SUCCESS AND A HALF FOR MANY I’D THINK...

The one thing that immediately stands out about other cities or countries is that it’s not about the individual, but the individuals understand the importance of moving as a team, playing as one. They are very vigorous with their ideas. They are not polite or modest in their strides. I love how innovative artists are in other spaces, for example Ruramai Musekiwa who is based in JHB – she started a movement called

For me, making it will be that moment when my mom realizes all those nights I came home late from a performance or Jam That Session meeting were not in vain. When my music transcends beyond just being music, but something I can live off without crutching on a salary. When I can wake up one morning just to create, create, create. Making it is a feeling, Niamh, it’s a feeling. The EP was a moment of ‘hey you made it, you recorded this, went through all the doubt and released it, you and your team made it Andy.’ Making it are those small moments as well. I have made it 29

photography by starting Jam That Session with Obie, I have made it by releasing the EP. We tend to forget to celebrate the small achievements, other people fear even starting man. Thanks to Dean Jates for making me realize this notion.

YOU ONCE MENTIONED THE INTERNET AS THE SOURCE OF DECEPTION WHEN IT COMES TO THE MEASURE OF SUCCESS. AS AN ARTIST, SPECIFICALLY LOOKING AT YOUR MUSIC CAREER, HOW DO WE GET MORE TO REALITY AGAIN IN CREATING AUTHENTIC, QUALITY MUSIC THAT IS RIGHTFULLY RECOGNISED AND CAN SUSTAIN ITSELF COME PAY-DAY?

“Lots of people are looking for affirmation and they sell themselves short at the same time.”

There is a whole lot of hype and “careers” online and everyone is “hustling”. I think with the authenticity point nothing beats telling your own story. There is a market for every story and product; you just have to work hard to reach those people.

IN YOUR SONG MNXIM (APT TITLE FOR THIS ARTICLE BY THE WAY) YOUR ONE LINE SAYS “SEEMS LIKE EVERYONE’S AN ARTIST. THEY DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT ART IS”. HOW DO WE SIFT THROUGH THE KAK FOR THE GOLD?

YOU’RE QUITE SOCIO-POLITICALLY MINDED IN SOME OF THE LYRICS ON YOUR EP. WHO ARE YOU TRYING TO REACH? IS IT MORE A CATHARTIC REFLECTION FOR YOURSELF? OR IS THERE HOPE TO OPEN THE EARS OF THE IGNORANT?

Simple: honesty. You know when it’s genuine and you know when it is screaming out for attention. Lots of people are looking for affirmation and they sell themselves short at the same time. We live in a time where being an artist is the thing, apparently. 30

photography Sheesh there are a few that inspire me more than anything. All in various ways, Ruramai Musekiwa, Tseliso Monaheng, Obie Mavuso , you, Sabza. There’s a list, I could go on.

It’s a bit of both. I want the music to reach everyone, and it really does. I mean regardless of how cool you are, when you listen to one of my songs you are sure to relate somewhere, somehow. I have been blessed with the ability to touch people with music, even when I am just telling my own story, trying to heal myself, I am healing a whole lot of other people at the same time.

IDEALLY AND DAYDREAMING-LY WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO DO WITH YOUR ART AND LIFE?

WHAT MORE CAN NGO’S, INVESTORS, ORGANISATIONS, GENERAL PUBLIC DO TO SUPPORT LOCAL ARTISTS? I really think gone are the times we have to look to investors or NGO’s in order to make things happen or be supported by them, when you have something great going, they have no choice but to pay attention. That is why the mainstream constantly wants to affiliate with what’s happening on the ground. DO YOU FOLLOW ANY LOCAL ARTISTS THAT MIGHT INFLUENCE YOUR WORK? OR PEOPLE YOU JUST DIG.

I see myself owning a few barbershop stores where everything I am known for can exist. My photography on the walls, entertainment via Jam That Session, radio broadcasts, just a space where I can fully feel this is where it’s meant to be.

poetry

SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF BOPEDI I was born from the soil, my thick skin says it all, speaks it tall, stands by strong and holds me through it all, the brown, black, maybe mixed in me screams insanity, insane I mean, all the same I see.

As I utter a language I cannot write to perfection, cannot might to connection, cannot spite as it’s a nation. On its own it stands, through this wrongs it writes, in our songs it mikes.

The strips on the palms of my hand describe me best, takes charge and gives birth, plays cards and wins with kings and queens. As my fingers have two colours, the brown dominates the fair I see.

I’m a daughter of Borwa bja Afrika (South Africa),bohwa bja tsatsi le (heir to this day), bomma ba mpelege (my mother birthed me)!.I’m a Pedi creature that prides itself in the tongue my grandmother bornified in thee, stressed my life indeed, made mends with life to make me.

BY MOOKELETSI MANYATHELA

poetry

THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSE Her? Oh, I – She left. No, no note. You see she’s dead, and As an angel, happily so I killed her Dull little thing

WORDS AND PHOTOGRAPH OLIVIA WALTON

poetry

SAILBOAT BY ISABEL RAWLINS

Could I reach you with words? Skim them across your river, letters falling with each bounce off the water. What will find you on the other side? a handful of words with their prefixes missing, suffixes left behind. Bare bones to gather up and knock together. Skeletal ideas calling out for each other. With tender hands sew tendons back to flexion. Find delight in dancing nerves. Then return a few back to me. Send them by sailboat with a gentle push. So I can watch them â&#x20AC;&#x201C; coming in on a bank of cloud. PHOTOGRAPH BY WERNER GOSS-ROSS 34

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short story

ONE WAY TICKET Ja.’s stories find their way into our pages in all sorts of ways. Sometimes they’re attached to friendly emails or handwritten in a tatty journal, other times they’re sprayed under Woodstock bridges or carved into rickety church doors. Now comes a classic tale in the form of a Facebook post by travelling man, Glen Manning. ILLUSTRATIONS BY SARAH ROSE DE VILLIERS Yoh yoh yoh, what a trip! As my luck would have it, a tufty ballie sat next to me on the flight— I was next to the window. We exchanged a few pleasantries and I made him giggle a couple of times. Halfway across Africa, when the lights are turned off and everyone is about to nap, this ballie makes a couple of gurgling sounds and goes DEAD quiet. I summons an air hostess who takes one look at him and scoots off to the front. A few minutes later, the captain comes, checks the scene out and shakes his head. He says that because of his size and their protocol, he was not to be touched. In any case, the plane is too full to put him anywhere.

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I start making cute suggestions like strap him in the overhead cabin or throw him out over Mauritania as punishment for what they did to Bafana last week. The captain says all that can be done is to cover him with a sheet. Me, I asked to be covered with three double brandies. I also kindly requested for the lights to be kept on, but flight regulations do not allow for this. I slukked another double brandy. As the night wore on and the brandy kicked in, I thought it was a good idea, seeing that we were already high in the sky, for me to help smooth this ballie’s path to heaven (I schemed we didn’t have much further to go). And so I started singing a song to him— “Nobody gets to heaven no more”. I must have sounded like the Bee Gees because the next thing, this ballie’s head slid right onto my shoulder. I PASSED OUT!!! 37

books

THE BOOK BOOK CLUB 2 WORDS BY NIAMH WALSH-VORSTER

Like any successful book club, skipping a few gatherings is standard procedure. Here are two I read during the course of my eight month “sabbatical”/catch-up session. I may have read them a while ago, but I still find parts useful for understanding more, and sometimes less about this crazy place known as South Africa. Bongani Madondo in I’m not your weekend special (A book I’m currently reading on my second sabbatical) writes,“every reader attentive enough experiences or should experience a moment of delight upon realising that books hold their own little secrets,” so here are a few I found in Memoirs of a Born Free and Once we were hunters. ILLUSTRATIONS BY MICHELLE AVENANT

MEMOIRS OF A BORN FREE: REFLECTIONS ON THE RAINBOW NATION BY MALAIKA WA AZANIA

t’s on the list of “most shoplifted books in South Africa”, but honestly, I don’t think it’s been nicked enough times– and I mean that in a good way. Wa Azania writes in an accessible, straight forward manner, which I feel is a great introductory read for university students trying to understand what economic and social privilege is. She tells of her own experiences growing up as a black child and later finding her voice in politics as a young woman. Her book does go in depth with her relationship and role with the ANC 38

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Youth League and beginnings of the EFF, but her chapter on “How Stellenbosch University changed me” is an important one which does well to squash all keyboard trolls and face-versus-brick-wall debates. The narrative of her experience is helpful in understanding what it

might feel like to be alienated, “Everywhere around me, pale skins were laughing, dancing and conversing in Afrikaans. I didn’t hear a single word of another language. It was easy then to understand why the black students would feel marginalised to the point of sitting in a corner away from the crowd”. Later on, she speaks of being at a party and how her attempts to engage are met with hostility due to not being able to speak Afrikaans. Wa Azania’s story of Stellenbosch is a small example of how white South Africans dismiss black people who do not fit into systems of white power. Overall, it’s a great book for introduction into what it means to be young, black and living in South Africa.

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ONCE WE WERE HUNTERS: A JOURNEY WITH AFRICA’S INDIGENOUS PEOPLE BY PAUL WEINBERG

aul Weinberg pairs his classic documentary photographs with ethnographies from nine writers in six countries in this visual Anthropological gem of a book that I’ve come to use as a source of reference for the state of culture and environmental issues in Africa. The chapters critique and confront issues of tourism on local communities with Eurocentric programmes that undermine and exploit people of the land. However, the book also serves as a celebration of the beliefs of Indigenous Peoples. With the likes of Antjie Krog, Gcina Mhlophe, and Chenjerai Hove contributing to the literary landscape of the book, all the writers engage in either academic styles or poetic prose on the struggles and triumphs of what it is to be living as Indigenous People in countries such as Kenya, Zimbabwe, Namibia, Botswana, and South Africa. Margaret Jacobsohn’s ethnography writes about the Himba in Namibia. This piece provides insight into how conservation is possible without following models influenced by tourism

and often problematic programmes that adopt “outsider expertise” in the name of development and sustainability. Instead, the power and value of local knowledge is pushed as the way forward for authentic conservationism, “this [inclusion of African voices] diversifies rural economies and allows African people to find their own alternative routes to development instead of slavishly following Eurocentric models that have mostly failed Africa, vast amounts of ‘development aid’ notwhistanding,” writes Jacobsohn. Such ethnographies provide examples for conservation plans to decolonise programmes and collaborate with people who know the soul of the soil. Not all stories are as progressive though, with places such as Maputuland telling bleak tales of land reform. The great thing about Once We Were Hunters is it brings light to widespread exploitation. It gives voice to local people involved in, and contributing to conserving their land, and serves as an important example for how to solve environmental degradation without compromising their heritage.

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WAXING LYRICAL: A Pietermaritzburg born band, Acoustiq Assassins mix up deep Afro- Soul, fiery rock ‘n roll, acapella RnB, and even a bit of poetry in their performances. The quartet is Siphesihle ‘Tonick’ Bhengu and Noma ‘Noxolo’ Khumalo on vocals, Siphiwe ‘Junior’ Mazibuko on vocals and guitar, and songwriter and poet Gugu ‘Gu’ Mdladla. Ja. magazine had a quick chat with Siphesihle in order to become better acquainted with the hard working, smooth talking, show killing group.

ILLUSTRATIONS BY WERNER GOSS-ROSS

HOW DID YOU ALL COME TO MEET EACH OTHER AND FORM ACOUSTIQ ASSASSINS? Well the group/band was formed at a performing arts academy in Pietermaritzburg. We (the guys) were all in the same classroom learning how to play guitar. We (the guys) went to the same primary school and some of us went to the same high school as well, where we sang in different choirs and formed a vocal group. We knew Noma from the choir festivals and the KZN Youth 42

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ACOUSTIQ ASSASSINS Choir so we’ve actually known each other for years!

and music is inspired by groups and bands such as The Script, Boyz II Men, The Soil, and The YOUR MUSIC RANGES FROM Muffins to name a few. We just AFRO- SOUL AND RNB, TO create music, we choose not ROCK. HOW DO YOU BRING ALL to put ourselves in a box by THESE GENRES TOGETHER? DO saying we do one specific genre. DIFFERENT MEMBERS BRING I wouldn’t say that different DIFFERENT GENRES? members bring different genres, but we all bring our own unique We grew up listening to all sorts of element which creates our own genres and were exposed to these unique genre. genres in high school choirs. Our song-writing process, performance YOU SAY YOU’RE A BAND THAT’S BEEN “THROWN IN THE DEEP END”. WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT? We’ve only been a band for a year, but the amount of work we’ve put in and the places we’ve performed at speak volumes about how far we have come. We were finalists at the World Jam music festival at Moses Mabhida Stadium, 43

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performed at The National Arts Festival, opened for a number of professional acts to name a few. We mostly did all of this by ourselves. We’ve been thrown in the deep end because we had to do all these things in such a short space of time, at a time where we were still trying to find our sound.

THINK THAT’S SOMETHING THAT ALL SOUTH AFRICAN MUSICIANS SHOULD BE INCORPORATING INTO THEIR MUSIC? Yes it would be the wisest thing to do as a South African musician. You are able to relate to a wider audience. We also live in the new South Africa. We are a rainbow nation so let’s express that through music.

LIKE MANY CONTEMPORARY ARTISTS ARE STARTING TO DO, YOUR PERFORMANCES ARE MULTILINGUAL. DO YOU

YOUR ONLY INSTRUMENTS ARE TWO ACOUSTIC GUITARS, MEANING THE BULK OF YOUR PERFORMANCES ARE ACAPELLA. HOW DO YOU GO ABOUT CONSTRUCTING A SONG? We let the music write itself. Most of our songs come by chance, while jamming. Junior or Gugu play something,

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an idea comes, we create something from that idea – big or small – and a song comes along.

Gugu is a poet by nature. He writes his own poetry and is responsible for writing most of the songs.

HOW MUCH OF YOUR PERFORMANCES ARE IMPROVISED?

DO YOU HAVE PLANS TO VENTURE OUTSIDE OF CORPORATE GIGS AND COSMOPOLITAN SHOWS?

Not much. I learnt from watching “This Is It” by Michael Jackson that you can’t do in performance what you didn’t do at rehearsals. We improvise when we have to, but everything is properly rehearsed. From what we say, what we do on stage, and even when having to leave the stage. It looks unplanned and natural.

Yes we want to perform everywhere. We don’t limit ourselves to certain types of shows, gigs or events. FOLLOW ACOUSTIQ ASSASSINS ON FACEBOOK.

YOU INCORPORATE SOME POETRY INTO YOUR PERFORMANCES. DO YOU WRITE POETRY AS A GROUP OR IS IT AN INDIVIDUAL PROCESS?

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A Q&A WITH PRETORIA’S AMBIENT UP AND COMER- BULI

A self-titled ‘bringer of good feels’, Buli is an electronic producer based in Pretoria. With three EPs out in under a year, he’s making quick work of carving out a home for ambient electronica and beat scene in South Africa’s Jacaranda City. Dave Mann had a quick chat with Buli about his most recent EP ‘Delusions’. PHOTOGRAPH BY STEVE HOGG AND ILLUSTRATION BY WERNER GOSS-ROSS

HI BULI! THANKS FOR TAKING THE TIME TO CHAT. CAN YOU GIVE US A QUICK, THREE WORD DESCRIPTION OF YOURSELF? Beat making weirdo. HOW DID YOU COME TO PRODUCE AMBIENT ELECTRONICA AND BEAT SCENE? WHAT WERE YOU LISTENING TO AND PRODUCING BEFORE? I was listening to a lot of hip-hop back then and it was mainly what I was producing back then. I really wouldn’t call it hip-hop. It was a bit similar to what I am making now

just less developed, meaning that it didn’t have the ambient aspect to it and I was pretty terrible at mastering my tracks. I started making the music I make now after being exposed to electronic music in South Africa. This was the first time I realised there was music like this in SA. PRETORIA’S MUSIC SCENE HAS A HISTORY OF FAVOURING WHITE, AFRIKAANS BANDS AND MUSICIANS. WHAT’S IT LIKE BEING A YOUNG, BLACK MUSICIAN IN PRETORIA PRODUCING ELECTRONIC MUSIC? For me, I have never thought about

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Music it actually. All that was on my mind was making something that I am satisfied enough with to share with all kinds of people. But it does feel good to see more black people come to these gigs that would be mostly be filled with white people. It’s also cool to see all kinds of people, irrespective of their race, enjoying the music I make and enjoying electronic music. YOUR MOST RECENT EP, DELUSIONS WELCOMES THE LISTENER “TO A PLACE WHERE REALITY IS NONEXISTENT”. WHAT INSPIRED AN EP THAT TAKES A DEPARTURE FROM REALITY? When I initially started making the EP, I had no exact idea of how it would sound like in the end or the concept that I wanted to use. At the time I started making the other tracks in the EP it started sounding like it had that “nonexistent” feel to it , meaning that I felt as if I was detached from reality when I was making the tracks. That’s why I called the EP Delusions, it’s all about experiencing something that’s not really there.

DELUSIONS FEATURES ACCOMPANYING ARTWORK. DO YOU THINK THE WAY FORWARD FOR SA MUSICIANS IS TO COMBINE VISUAL ART AND OTHER ARTISTIC MEDIUMS WITH THEIR MUSIC? I have always had a love for art. I feel that combining music and other artistic mediums allows you to fully immerse yourself and fully enjoy the art and the music. A VERY MINIMAL, PUNCTUATING PERCUSSION UNDERPINS MOST OF YOUR TRACKS. WHAT’S YOUR PROCESS? DO YOU START WITH PERCUSSION AND GO ON FROM THERE? It usually depends on how I’m feeling that day. I start working on my drums and percussion first usually. The drums and percussion serve as a blueprint for the song. Sometimes I’ll have a melody or an idea of how to work with a certain sample and then add drums, percussion and bass later.

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A LOT OF YOUR TRACKS CARRY HINTS MANY SOUTH AFRICAN DJS OF ISOLATION OR EVEN DESOLATION. WORK ALONE A LOT OF THE TIME, ARE YOU A FAIRLY SOLITARY GUY? COLLABORATING WITH OTHER ARTISTS ONLY ON SINGLE TRACKS. DELUSIONS I think it all depends on the people I’m SEES YOU WORKING WITH DJS AND hanging out with. I’m the opposite of PRODUCERS LIKE VOX PORTENT, DRIFT being solitary, when I’m around the right PRISM, AND VISUAL ARTISTS. WHAT people. I can be a bit solitary depending ARE THE BENEFITS TO THESE SORTS on the situation. OF COLLABORATIONS? DO YOU THINK A COMBINATION OF TALENTS AND DO YOU BELIEVE IN ALIENS? SKILLS IS THE WAY FORWARD FOR Well, not really. It would be cool if they SOUTH AFRICA’S ELECTRONIC MUSIC existed though. SCENE? I really like working with different people. I always learn something new when I collaborate with different people. You get an idea of their work process when they’re making a song or if they’re making something visual. After finishing a collaboration I try to incorporate what I’m always working on new, different I have learned when I’m making music. stuff and exploring different sounds. I definitely think there should be more I want people to experience and hear collaboration between electronic artists the different stuff that I come up with. I and artists in general. Some dope stuff want them to hear the different sides to would come from those collaborations. my music. YOU CAN HEAR BULI’S MUSIC HERE. YOU’RE A PROLIFIC PRODUCER. DELUSIONS CAME SEVEN MONTHS AFTER YOUR FIRST EP THE INNER SPACE AND YOU ALREADY HAVE A THIRD ONE IN THE WORKS. WHAT KEEPS YOU GOING?

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The modern day Saint Jude: Patron Saint of lost souls BY JA. TEAM It’s a lazy Sunday and a cluttered, paint stained room is filled with the smell of melted butter and flapjacks. Catherine Pretorius and her manager Stephanie Mullins step into the Ja. team’s flat. The two are offered something to eat or drink, but both decline, settling for water, and the vegan half of the duo (who actually now eats fish) sits down on a gold chair. Seated next to her is a large wooden artwork painted with jagged letters reading ‘D-O-P-E’ introducing the reason for this bizarre setup—Dope Saint Jude is ready for her interview. ART BY WERNER GOSS-ROSS PHOTOGRAPHS BY NIAMH WALSH-VORSTER

here’s a lot to unpack with an artist like Dope Saint Jude. Where do you start with a vegan, gender queer, coloured woman, thriving in the conflicted realm of the South African Hip Hop industry? Where most artists begin— in their childhood home. Growing up in a mixed- race household in a coloured neighbourhood, Saint Jude was already observing, interrogating, and navigating Cape Town’s racial politics as part of her 50

everyday life. “My grandmother is Sesotho, and she was with a white man, and had my mom illegally,” Saint Jude explains, “My mom grew up and all her siblings are black but she was raised coloured, so in the apartheid system she was classified as coloured. When she married my dad, they moved into a coloured neighbourhood and she got assimilated with the coloured community, but we all had black family so they came to live with us.”

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Fast forward a few years and many hours of hard graft and Saint Jude has unpacked, subverted, and repackaged coloured queer identity politics in the form of some of the most honest and incisive tracks to come out of South African music. Lines such as ‘I’m changing the mould of a mad black woman, matriarchy chastise when we hear them say ‘jou ma se’, the patriarchy hates us ‘cause we own our space like ‘bra se’ ’ stand out, challenging static and oppressive social relations. How does she incorporate such complex notions of power

and identity into her music so seamlessly? “It’s so natural for me to do that,” she says, “I don’t think ‘oh I want to disrupt something’, I just do what I feel and I think the way I exist in the world is a bit of a disruption. I felt like that my whole life growing up. Just navigating the dynamic between coloured and black in Cape Town for example, yho it’s hectic. It really is. There’s a lot of animosity between the two groups, but that’s my 54

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experience and that informs me. I feel an allegiance with the coloured community, I grew up in a coloured community, but I also understand the black struggle. I realise the differences. That’s why in Brown Baas I use the word ‘brown’, not ‘black’ like Steve Biko. I think there’s a similar struggle but it happens differently. There are two different struggles, but they’re in the same struggle.” Not only is Saint Jude smudging the lines of South African society’s preconceived notions of race, gender and class, but she’s also self-reflexive in her work, analysing her own current position in society and how that influences her thinking and the way she (re) creates herself. “I feel I experience privilege to a large extent, because of the way I move in the world, being in all of these groups,” says Saint Jude. She addresses everyone present in the room when talking. Her way of engaging with others is considered and empathetic. “I recently experienced some homophobia and it was so tough for me because I am privileged enough not to experience it 55

because of the space I move in. I think about how if I didn’t move in these spaces, what would my experience be if I was still living in the Cape Flats as a queer woman? That’s also what riles me up a lot of the time, and what comes to me in my art. I feel like I have a responsibility because I’m enjoying this nice life. I don’t actually experience a lot of discrimination to be quite honest, and that’s why I feel like I need to represent.”

“I’m a full human being, I’m not just political, sometimes I’m playful, sometimes I’m a woman, there’s so many different aspects.” Of course there’s more to the gender bending, culture blending, fast talking, and hard rapping artist that’s breaking the boundaries for brown women in the contemporary South African rap scene. Tracks like Family and Let Me Love You pay homage to traditional R&B and Hip Hop musicality, but

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provide further insight into Saint Jude, the artist and person. “I’m a full human being, I’m not just political, sometimes I’m playful, sometimes I’m a woman, there’s so many different aspects.” Speaking with a quiet confidence that belies the boisterous arrogance characterising much of Hip Hop, Saint Jude reassuringly rubs her forearm when addressing questions on personal politics or the conceptualisation of her music videos. Her video for Brown Baas is one that achieved a viral status in the local music scene and carries with it, two of Saint Jude’s key themes – being badass and representing brown women’s experiences. “I feel very precious about my videos; they’re a reflection of how I feel and what I want to do in my art. A lot of thought goes into every little detail down to what I’m wearing and what everyone else is wearing,” she says, “the idea of Brown Baas was to subvert, done purposefully, you know having a girl in a Hip Hop video with the cars and everything, but instead of us drinking we’re reading books on Biko. It has that feel of hanging out with your boys. You have to go into it hard, because that’s what hip hop is. It’s about your power, your personal power, expressing it.” Saint Jude’s power and the power she draws on is not only something to be reckoned with, but something to be celebrated and platformed. Considering she’s been invited by the Brazilian government to perform there next year, it looks like she’s gaining the recognition she demands and deserves. Keep in Touch with Dope Saint Jude’s music here.

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