The cries of cultural ‘purists” are horribly reminiscent of the narrow-minded dogma so readily trotted out by religious fundamentalists.
In the view of these purists, on the same day the world was created, so were the traditions and expressions of their culture. Some say their cultures burst forth fully formed from a holy egg; others that they rolled down already completed from the tops of the Untouchable Mountain. But regardless of the myth used to explain their appearance, they would all agree that culture is both fixed and hallowed. To even hint at change is akin to sacrilege.
The problem with this view, of course, is that the natural fluidity of culture, bound to change and adapt through time as it is, is met with stubborn resistance. Notions that conventions like lobola can even be challenged — let alone abolished — are met with a throaty cry of indignation. Similarly, the idea that the small isle of England should have Indian cuisine as its national dish of choice, rather than the traditional boiled potatoes and peas, is equally seen as an affront to the celebrated ‘British way of life”.
This is not an argument to throw the baby out with the bathwater and the bath as well. In many ways ancient practices can feel like a gift from the departed, an inheritance of wisdoms that have been distilled through the ages for us to imbibe and refresh ourselves with. There’s a sense of safety in them, not least because they come wrapped up in the soft glow of nostalgia and familiarity.
Ultimately it’s a delicate balance: allowing a culture to develop into something new from what it was, while retaining the conventions and values that are really worth keeping.
A steady rumble of dissent can often be heard about the culture that many black urban youth are busy creating for themselves. The stereotypical image would be of a youngster decked out from head to toe in labels (preferably from the United States) and hip with the latest in tsotsi-taal lingo (don’t think you can get away with old fashioned words like ‘Goodbye”; the correct modern term when you leave is to say, ‘Sure”). It’s a generation that would probably vote for a Nike swoosh to feature prominently on our national flag.
‘What about traditional styles?” grumble the old folk. And what about a sense of community, of family, of deference to elders? What about the values that go with the concept of ubuntu? How do they coincide with the norms of today, as we do the cool slouch-walk through our grimy city streets, looking neither left nor right to make sure we don’t have to register the plight of the homeless and abused all about us?
As fluid as culture should be allowed to be, the argument that certain values are non-negotiable makes a lot of sense. We would be foolish if we agreed to become yet another callous consumer society with our eyes on acquisitions and little else.
The shape of things to come is still unclear — this adventure of inventing a truly new South Africa is going to take some time to unfold. But with the sheer diversity and number of cultures that
co exist within South Africa’s borders, is it ever going to be possible to amalgamate all the vastly different customs and beliefs into one thing we all share?
Perhaps the impossibility of this, ultimately, is what will define our nationhood: we can drive half an hour from our home and shock ourselves in a neighbourhood where we don’t speak the language and hardly know the customs.