Is it a New National Party fare-well rally? Is it the after-party for a Bulls/Cats rugby derby? Is it the Dorsbult Bar transformed into an open-air shebeen? Is it the annual gathering of the meat-eating dinosaurs? No! It’s the Klein Karoo Nasionale Kunstefees (KKNK)!
The 10th edition of the volk’s annual trek from the new South Africa to Oudtshoorn has just ended, coinciding with the 10th anniversary of our non-racial democracy. Not that everyone in Oudtshoorn has noticed the latter fact. (But then, perhaps it’s no coincidence that the festival takes place among ostriches.) Take Tannie Volstruis Badenhorst (whose name has been changed to protect her from unwanted party-political recruitment). She advertised her house for festival accommodation, but when a group of black actors arrived to take up the rooms they had paid for, they were told that there had been a misunderstanding and that the accommodation was, ja-nee, unavailable.
In a silly attempt to limit the PR damage of a racial incident, the festival management backed up Tannie Volstruis, saying that the festival had got it wrong since Tannie had clearly stated that she did not want artists to stay in her home. By implication, black people attending as audience members would be fine, and maybe even their pets, but not artists. Fortunately, others were happy to accommodate artists, or the festival would be little more than a 10-day saamtrek (gathering) of braai-vleis, brandy, charades and karaoke.
What would be pretty impressive herds of cattle for lobola purposes were devoured daily as kilometres of boerewors. And that was only for breakfast. The closest vegetarian food was ostrich. There were numerous stalls promoting WEE (white economic empowerment). One could buy cute T-shirts such as ”The Groot Trek: the next generation” to send to one’s family and friends in London. (The first trek was to get away from the British. The second is to be British.)
As a gesture to the new South Africa’s 10th anniversary, Oudtshoorn bestowed the freedom of the city on President Thabo Mbeki at the start of the festival. After which the town was struck by lightning. Clearly, the ancestors of Tannie Volstruis were not happy chappies. Quite frankly, they would not be concerned at all if the KKNK lost its ”N”.
If PC Big Ears, Small Heart were to walk around the festival, there would be much to blacklist. The handful of black audience members. The sprinkling of black performers. (Which sprinkling of brown swallows does not a rainbow fees make). The fascist T-shirts saying ”Praat Afrikaans of hou jou bek [Talk Afrikaans or shut your mouth]”. On the other hand, one could not but be impressed with the friendliness (I’ve never been so ”oom-ed” before), the sense of community, the multi-generational family outings, the generosity of the support for artists, a celebration of Afrikaner values.
The KKNK has much going for it. After agriculture and tourism, it is the biggest injection into the local economy. (Not to mention the sex industry.) It has provided funding for up to 80% of new Afrikaans productions in the past five years. It has spawned other festivals and provided regular work for artists. There is a lot that other festivals can learn from the KKNK in terms of organisation, programming and the treatment of artists.
But the KKNK will always have its detractors and will always be prone to race-related controversy. In addition, given the accommodation, travel and performance costs related to the festival, it — like most other festivals — will never be truly ”national” and representative, no matter how hard it tries. And personally, I think it tries too hard. To be PC. To be inclusive.
The festival should chill, and accept what it is. Not all Afrikaans-speakers are like Tannie Volstruis. Like all communities that speak a particular language there are progressives and conservatives, the Vrye Weekblads and Die Patriots, the brilliant and the intellectually challenged, the talented and the mediocre, the beautiful and the plain, and everything in between. The KKNK attracts them all — on its stages, in its debate halls and in its audiences.
Afrikaans has far superior economic, political and academic resources than languages like Pedi, Venda and Sotho, which have been suppressed for centuries. Yet, they haven’t died out. Rather than reinforce a mindset of being threatened, the festival is a unique vehicle to celebrate a language, a culture and its people. It is also an important vehicle to transform them.