Joanesburgo vs. Cidade do Cabo

Dois exemplos da música que se anda a fazer na África do Sul

Joanesburgo e DJ Mujava



E Cidade do Cabo e os Die Antwoord

Joanesburgo

                               

Like a net; Egoli collects the brightest stars of the dark constellation, coming to chip away at her gold and seeking her diamonds

Its beacon of light: the coke tower, now the vodacom tower with its prostitutes, and hustlers, Joburg proudly displays her disparities, even in the scenic Joubert Park with its whites only benches and likewise drinking fountains.

My mother told me stories of batoned police keeping the peace in the town centre. I remember riot police, enforcing the law, and keeping the pavements safe. Back then there were no street vendors from Ghana and Mozambique selling roots and herbs, or Chinese traders vending golden watches and sunglasses.

Like a magnet Jozi transfixes the country bumpkin, fresh off the train and teaches him to wield a knife, as he slips into the seat of his newly acquired German-crafted, four-wheeled status symbol. Oranges, pears, bananas, and avocados tumble to the ground as a father of four looses his pulse in the wake of Jakes and his crews´ scrambling feet-cuoshioned in the high stepping bright white All Star trainers; as red syrup seeps in to the concrete sidewalk.

Deeper and deeper below, the sound of the pneumatic drill comes to an abrupt halt as an army of sixteen blackened faces burrows further in search of a slight twinkle in the dark. Their black voices beat on the army of white ear drums above with their hands on their hips.

In the Newtown District, the new generation, the first generation, of black-diamonds* sips cocktails, and strokes silk-clad thighs, while signing million rand contracts in the full glory of the African sun. They... we, smile, and the African sky smiles back. After all we are the new precious article of this Southern Africa Capital. The new kings and queens driving capital and industry on the very streets where our grandparents drove wheel barrows. We spit instructions in English, Sotho, and Venda, while receiving concurrence in Afrikaans, Xhosa and the almighty Zulu.

On either end; Alexandra and the infamous Soweto townships buttress this powerhouse of African modernity. In these outskirts of Johannesburg the young and old continue the waiting game for fathers and mothers to return to these battlegrounds where dreams are dashed and schemes realised.

Jabulani Maseko

* A marketing term describing the group of young black (not including Indians or coloureds) South Africans who make up the middle class (well-educated, wealthy, salaried, in suitable employment, creditworthy, property and car owners, aspirant, with confidence in themselves and in the future).

Fotografia:
Jabulani Maseko
Afrovova

Dennis Brutus

Morreu Dennis Brutus, poeta sul-africano. Mais aqui



1.
Golden oaks and jacarandas

flowering:

exquisite images

to wrench my heart.



2.
Each day, each hour

is not painful,

exile is not amputation,

there is no bleeding wound

no torn flesh and severed nerves;

the secret is clamping down

holding the lid of awareness tight shut—

sealing in the acrid searing stench

that scalds the eyes,

swallows up the breath

and fixes the brain in a wail—

until some thoughtless questioner

pries the sealed lid loose;


I can exclude awareness of exile

until someone calls me one.



3.
The agony returns;

after a crisis, delirium,

surcease and aftermath;

my heart knows an exhausted calm,

catharsis brings forgetfulness

but

with recovery, resilience

the agony returns.



4.
At night

to put myself to sleep

I play alphabet games

but something reminds me of you

and I cry out

and am wakened.



5.
I have been bedded

in London and Paris

Amsterdam and Rotterdam,

in Munich and Frankfort

Warsaw and Rome—

and still my heart cries out for home!



6.
Exile

is the reproach

of beauty

in a foreign landscape,

vaguely familiar

because it echoes

remembered beauty.



(1975)


E um dos maiores poetas africanos, um herói.