The dorp of Greyton with its serene fields and endless view of the mountainous range is arguably one of the most beautiful and secluded villages in South Africa. Located in the Overberg surrounded by rich fertile soil and a welcoming people, Greyton has a rich history next to the missionary town of Genadendal. A history that was shattered by the implementation of the Group Areas Act from 1968 to 1974 to create the ethnically segregated Apartheid divisions that exist even today. This situation begs the question, how far did democracy reach in South Africa?
On Tuesday April 4th 2017, an historical site in Greyton, the Market place, burnt down. It was a thatch roof set-up where locals from the Greyton village could commune and gather on a Saturday morning. A communal place where people could relax and enjoy the local produce on sale, things such as second-hand books, home-made baths and oils, baked goods and food. The market which villagers considered a historic tradition being burned down was a loss that villagers felt deeply.
There had been protests in Greyton Main road which resulted in the arrest of a group of men from Heuwelkroon and the gunning down of a young man by police. Residents from the nearby Heuwelkroon (the ghetto that had been created during the forced removals to move the coloured population into) had been protesting for answers from the Municipality on the urgent issue of new Housing. In the Constitution it states that every citizen of South Africa has the right to housing, protest and freedom of association.
According to the residents that I spoke to, people who lived in the town all lived together irrespective of “race” much like the residents of District six before the implementation of the Group Areas Act began. The result of this was the removal of all people of colour from the town’s Main road who were placed a few kilometres away on a hill (later named Heuwelkroon) where they were forced to rebuild their homes and their lives. A community of subsistance farmers who owned their own farms were overnight reduced to having to work as gardeners and domestics for white people in the very houses and properties that they were born in and on and previously owned.
The concept behind the song Kos Klere en Blyplek by Country Conquerers follows this narrative and is at the heart of what the nomadic people of South Africa have been fighting for since the birth of the republic. I write this essay as an exploration of the moving nature of the reggae sound in the context of a difficult South African reality, where borders exist “by die gevriet” and we are still judged and condemned by the colour of our skin. In this essay I consider how nomads use sound as a way to not only express themselves but to validate their lived experience.
Nomadic – the term refers to tribes of people usually without fixed habitation, regularly moving to and from the same areas. These include people from across the world who are drawn to the idea of living off the land, wherever that land may be. “The land” meaning, a space where agriculture and forestry has the possibility of being nurtured to the extent where it is able to produce sustainable living for its inhabitants.
The African continent formidably known as the world’s food basket and the biggest continent on the globe, ie. covering the largest stretch of land mass on the planet, is at the core of this understanding. Through the ages, people have come from far and wide to make a living in different parts of Africa. This is true of people from all corners of the world but most notably – Europe, The Middle East, Asia and Northern America.
At the Southern tip of Africa, Cape Point plays host to a life force of an unspeakable character – a place where two oceans meet. As such, it is no coincidence that Dutch exiles felt so comfortable in their settling on the coast when they arrived in 1652, it is no coincidence that Malay, Indian and other slaves were able to thrive in the Cape for so long with the knowledge of trade and faith. However the haunting secrets and sins of the fathers of the Dutch colony will always bear an ever burdening weight on the shoulders of the helpless products of their shame – the youth who continue to strive for freedom “in South Africa, our land”.
The South African constitution states that the nation belongs to all who lives in it. This poignant opening to the world’s most respected document is one that affects every person of colour in a different way. The story that called me to the town was one of strife, pain and seeking for justice for the landless peoples of Greyton who found themselves falling in love with this kleine dorpie in the middle of nowhere.
When I first arrived in the town in May 2017, what stunned me more than anything was the very obvious small nature of the town. A well-lit street welcomed me into its graces. It was dark and cold but the bustling nature of an extravagant night life made me feel as if perhaps it wasn’t all doom and gloom. Little did I know what lurked beneath the pristine entryway of a town which I had perceived to be writhing in the kind of pain only people of colour could ever understand.
Upon entering the town tired from the journey through what is traditionally known as the “hottentot” mountains – in the back of my mind, I thought “how beautiful”. As a Capetonian native I am no stranger to beautiful scenery but as an inquisitive mind I felt as though fate had brought me into a situation that no one journalist could ever make head or tail of, and, perhaps by design, wasn’t supposed to. Here in this dorpie festered something swept under the rug, an unspoken secret to the success of the burgeoning nouveau riche and the struggling old generation of wanderers and missionaries who stayed in the town to keep the fire of tradition burning wildly and perhaps unsuccessfully.
Founded in 1854, Greyton remains one of the most sustainably friendly towns in the Western Cape. It has been known, by few, as a beacon of hope along the road for the lost and wayward, the weary, the downtrodden, the exiles of the City of Cape Town’s sometimes unforgiving nature. A getaway for some and refuge for others. On the one end, the town has a preserved history and on the other, a troubling illness of irreconcilable differences caused by race.
The message behind the Music – The lyrics of Kos Klere en Blyplek by Country Conquerers is simple.
“Mr Government, this one is for you,
for a nation without food clothes and shelter,
the nation without a leader
We’re just gonna have another Zimbabwe”
The introduction to what may seem like a very simple song, played to the tune of traditional reggae sound and instrumentals invites the listener to the opening lines of a revolution that has already been televised and will continue to be televised – the struggle of people of colour. The opening verse is indeed important because it introduces us to the fears of the South African public conscience. The conscience that is afraid to rebuild from scratch, the conscience that is driven by the small white monopolistic agenda of ownership.
The majority of the South African public has always feared “another Zimbabwe” because what we’ve been shown about Zimbabwe is that it is a nation that continues to struggle because of corrupt political leadership. Thus, the media postulates Zimbabwe as a struggling nation, to further instil fear in the minds of the South African public.
The Country Conquerers however, challenge this idea of fear by openly stating that the nation without food, clothes and shelter, the nation without a leader is okay with having another Zimbabwe, it is not our place to agree or disagree with this, only to state it as it is.
“Onse mense vra kos, klere en blyplek.
Onse mense soek kos, klere en blyplek
Onse mense vra kos, klere en blyplek.”
“Maar die government, die government gee nie om nie
daardie government, die government gee nie om nie
en die mense, hulle kry almal swaar
ja die mense, hulle kry almal swaar.”
The second verse of the song speaks to the basic human rights of any living being on this planet – food, clothing, shelter. One of the most important goals for sustainable development is and will always be – a healthy population. During my visit to Greyton I spoke to Fredeline Easton, a woman who runs a shelter for struggling children, she turned her home into what she described as a safe-house for the young children who wander the town’s streets in search of love and support. Thus the hook, “Onse mense vra kos, klere en blyplek” is a homage to the rich soil in the town and the possibilities of what could happen if it is managed sustainably but also for the benefit of all who live in it, most importantly – the youth.
What is disturbing about the verse however, is the idea of “vra” – to ask. In the Afrikaans verse of the south african Anthem, composed by Enoch Sontonga, “uit die blou van onse hemel, uit die diepte van onse see, oor ons ewige gebergtes waar die kraanse aanwoord gee”, it is indeed disturbing to think that in the 21st century, we still have people who need to ask for a chance to live a dignified life in a country that has so much to offer. The verse drives home the point that perhaps material wealth is just below the surface of belief.
The song continues,
“hulle soek kos, klere en blyplek
daardie mense vra kos, klere en blyplek
onse mense soek kos, klere en blyplek
daardie government, die government gee nie om nie
En die mense, hulle swerf deur die wereld
daardie mense, hulle swerf deur die wereld
hulle soek kos, klere en blyplek
daardie mense soek kos, klere en blyplek
onse mense vra kos, klere en blyplek
Maar die government, die government gee nie om nie
ja die government, die government gee nie om nie
en die mense hulle kry almal swaar
ja die mense hulle swerf deur die wereld
Die mense soek kos, klere en blyplek
onse mense vra kos, klere en blyplek
onse mense soek kos, klere en blyplek
Maar die government, die government gee nie om nie
ja die government, die government gee nie om nie
Maar die government, die government gee nie om nie
ja die government, die government gee nie om nie
If one considers the lyrics of this “Kos, Klere en Blyplek”, it can easily be likened to the songs still sung by the Malay choirs in the Cape, traditional songs that form part of long standing-traditions of the Cape Minstrels in Cape Town, forming part of the same histories between people of colour in the cape and those living in Greyton. Traditional songs such as “Daar kom die Ali Baba” have been popularised for the working class people of the Cape as a reminder of the past.
Comparatively, we have a group of people who use reggae as a means to cry out on the continuous struggles, whereas the people from the bustling metropolis of Cape Town use more upbeat and celebratory songs to speak life to the same cause – that people of colour are deserving of more.
By the time I had left the town, I was overwhelmed with the battle for land between different political factions and the people. The concept of a transition town was being fostered in Greyton meaning a way forward for people from different organisations coming together with the intention of keeping the town thriving through sustainable means.
My stay in Greyton gave me insights into the unbelievable spirit and ways in which a people who are in control of their environment without ownership are able to overcome the struggles that they inherited from their forefathers. What we hope for is that the youth of the town cherish this struggle and continue to strive for a more integrated town life.