Erika Schutze
Ten years after Volvry, the now-legendary national tour by an amalgamation of Afrikaans alternative bands, young Afrikaners are once again refusing to define themselves along narrow ethnic lines.
A book launch in a nightclub is a rare occurrence. In this case, hosting the launch of Arnold Vermaak’s book, Buys, at the Jam in Zonnebloem, Cape Town, was a damn fine idea. The Jam is part of a restaurant-bar complex epitomising Boere- chic, an attitude-laden enclave where you can rub shoulders with Arno Carstens of the Nudies, play pool while listening to Garbage and mingle with the cosmopolitan yet unapologetically Afrikaans jollers.
Stellenbosch may be the home of Afrikaans rock, but the evening of “Drum’n’Buys”, as the book launch was billed, was marked by more contemporary global influences. It was a fusion of musical styles and cultural references. Hip-hop and drum `n bass (traditionally a black thang) combined with boeremusiek and an Afrikaans book (a white thang) to brew up a heady cultural sound clash. Afrikaners, ouens, homeboys, homegirls, brasse were all part of the same crew and spoke the same language.
Ready D of Prophets of da City had the crowd whooping when he spun and scratched sounds from a turntable, at one point even using his teeth. Die Gramadoelas played their idiosyncratic blend of piano accordion-led goema-jazz-rock (like a local Mr Bungle), with a guest appearance by Mr Fat of Brasse Vannie Kaap whipping up a hypnotic hip-hop throb. As one reveller, Andr Hugo, put it, “It’s good to see Afrikaans hip-hop meeting alternative Afrikaners – they’re finally recognising each other. My dad saw the Gramadoelas at the Klein Karoo Kunste Fees and keeps raving about it. And he’s from Kroonstad!”
According to the event organiser, Willem de Vries, “We wanted to break from the usual highbrow book launch reading and its Afrikaans Taal en Kunste Vereeniging (ATKV) trappings. A live band and DJs are a much better complement.”
By 9.30pm the venue was packed, the audience tapping their feet to DJ Ongemaklik’s opening set of Afrikaans 1970s pop tunes. Familiar hits like Haai Casanova, Vanaand Gaan die Poppe Dans and a jazz version of Hoe Ry die Boere blurred the lines between agony and irony. But the DJ redeemed himself by subtly mixing in Miriam Makeba and Spokes Mashiyane, even Sam Sklair.
When the audience fervently hit the floor for Ready D’s turntable wizardry it was clear that they had been appreciating the irony in as much as they enjoyed it in Ready D’s nom-de-guerre for the night: DJ Opperman. Move over Dirkie, it’s time to boogie. The author’s brother, Johan, then gave a reading; a spirited dramatisation of a passage from Buys, with eerie, caterwauling sound effects provided by the musicians and decks.
It was an unprecedented event for an unprecedented book. Described as “Indiana- Jones-meets-Terry-Pratchet”, Buys’s offbeat quirky humour and absurdist plot are delivered in a Kuilsriver schoolboy vernacular. Like the event, irony looms large in the book and, according to the publishers, irony and off-the-wall humour are what young Afrikaans readers want.
It’s an audience steeped in popular culture, more in tune with Irvine Welsh than Andr le Toit, aficionados of Pulp Fiction and Fargo; soul groovers rather than soul searchers. According to Antoinette van Wyk, publicity editor of Tafelberg Publishers: “A lot of young people were lost through prescribed books at school and switched to reading more contemporary English books. Most Afrikaans authors are middle-aged or old and don’t appeal to the new generation of alternative Afrikaners.
“Young writers are more critical of societal values; they want to make a statement. In the context of an authoritarian Afrikaner culture this urge is pronounced. They now want to be recognised as individuals, with a right to freedom. For them, writers like Le Toit already symbolise the establishment and other `alternative’ voices like Bitterkomix are just too angry and angst-ridden. There’s a shift to humour and irony.”
Tafelberg recently published a book called Ardvarkfontein, by Tom Dreyer. A celebration of gore with no deep meaning or political references, the author initially wanted to write in English because he wanted more conversational, pop references. He persevered in Afrikaans and the book sold well, thereby paving the way for a new pack of Afrikaans writers, including Vermaak.
“I think it’s really gutsy, there’s no equivalent happening in local English literature,” says Van Wyk.