Shebeens: A toast to townships past

Shebeens: by going to one of these small drinking taverns, you enter a social space that distilled the life and spirit of the emerging urban black identity. This blog serves as a celebration of the role that these social hubs played in the community. I am a Harvard Student, researching Shebeens in the Johannesburg townships for my thesis in History and Literature.

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Jozi Jaunt

A friend and I went and explored the city I love at dawn.

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Advertising Alcohol in the pages of Drum Magazine (1962)

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Remembering Nat Nakasa

The grave of Nat Nakasa, lies somewhat forgotten in a cemetery somewhere in upstate New York.

His gravestone simply reads:

“Nathaniel Nakasa May 12 1937 - July 14 1965. Journalist, Nieman Fellow, South African.”

This is a lonely image of Nat, separated from family and friends, in an environment so foreign from the bustling urban South African cityscape, distilled into three unfeeling titles, which fail whole heartedly to capture this vibrant voice of South African journalism. This remoteness might echo the loneliness and disconnect that drove 28 year-old Nat to jump off the 7th story of the New York building, an exiled South African, with no hope of returning home.

I stumbled across Nat in a similarly forgotten way. I was rummaging through the University of Johannesburg’s archives when I found an old issue of “The Classic,” the literary journal that Nat Nakasa started, with help from Nadime Gordimer. In a way my first encounter with Nat was his end, as the issue was a memorial to him.

However Nat’s end is not that I want to remember. Instead, I want to spend some time revisiting Nat’s beginning as editor for “The Classic.” Can Themba beautifully reminisces on this time with his old friend, recounting the story such:

  One day, we met at a dry cleaners called the “Classic.” Nat bought the drinks and said he had an idea. Ideas were sprouting all over the place, but any excuse for a drink was good enough.

After the ninth we got around to discussing the idea. Nat proposed starting a really good, artistic magazine. He wanted all of us – and I don’t mean just those Non-White journalists present – but all of us: Black, White, Coloured, Indian. For want of superior inspiration we decided to call the damn thing “The Classic” – the place where it was conceived, born and most of the time bred. Most of us got stinkingly drunk, but Nat captained the boat with a level head and saw to it that we met dead-line.

  When I think of the journalist and South African writer, Nat Nakasa, this is the image I want to remember. Nat surrounded by friends, inspired by words and ways to create a space to cultivate them. South African literature that is not constricted by colour or an apartheid government’s dictations.

As Nadime Gordimer writes in her rememberings – “Nat was gone. He never came back. But he was the beginning, not the end of something.” It is this beginning that is Nat Nakasa. The Nat Nakasa that was so much more than simply: Journalist, Nieman Fellow, South African.

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Seeing Sophiatown by Foot

I hit the ground running and went on a tour of Sophiatown this morning with Past Experiences Tours. Although the houses had been bulldozed in the forced removals of the 1950s, the streets and memories remained. As our tour guide, Mbali Zwane said, “You can take the people out of Sophiatown, but you can’t take Sophiatown out of the people.”

My dad came with me on the tour, which talked us through some of the historical highlights of this once lively and bustling neighbourhood.

Sophiatown was one of the few areas of Johannesburg where people from all races could live side by side during Apartheid. It was the hub of black urban culture, with musicians like Hugh Masekela and Dolly Rathebe making names for themselves in the local shebeens. Unfortunately the apartheid government could not tolerate the proximity of this mixed area so close to the city center, and forced removals started in 1955 and continued until 1960, when it is said only 3 of the original buildings of Sophiatown remained. The complete obliteration of this historical area is one of the great tragedies of apartheid.

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Trevor Huddleston was a Anglican Minister from England who left a large mark on the Sophiatown . Not only was he the person to buy Hugh Masekela his first trumpet, but he was also an influential anti-apartheid activist. As this mural painted of him suggestions, he was always surrounded by children and loved by the community who nicknamed him Makhalipile, the"dauntless one." The mural to the right of his image was painted by Gerald Sekote, the famous South African artist and musician who moved to France. Huddleston's church started out basic, but now is a parish that draws people from as far as Meadowlands, who return as they feel that it still possesses some of the essence of the old Sophiatown. His grave, which stands in the church yard, follows his desire to have "his ashes scattered in the streets of Sophiatown," despite the fact that he was recalled to England by his order in 1956. Trevor Huddleston is one of the unsung heroes of apartheid, and I encourage everyone to visit the Trevor Huddleston Memorial center: http://www.trevorhuddleston.org/

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Mbali told us the story of this tree. It stood at a corner house in Sophiatown. Many people would gather under its shade to discuss politics, the news of the day, or just to enjoy its shade.

However, with the imminent removals, it became a more tragic symbol. Two men could not cope with the trauma of leaving, and their corpses were found hanging in the branches.

People looked to this tree as a monument to the distress of the time. People became very upset when the new owner started chopping off its branches. He complained of the noise made by the owls in its branches. Now this tree, which saw so much change, is left in the grounds of St Josephs waiting for its next use. Artists who have ideas on how to make it into a memorial are encouraged to contact the Trevor Huddleston Center.

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Sophiatown was bulldozed, beginning with forced removals in 1955, which continued until the early 1960s. The neighborhood was literally flattened and untastefully renamed Triompf, Afrikaans for 'Victory.' These photos show the same streets of the original Sophiatown, but the buildings are new.

A more detailed overview of Sophiatown's history can be found on its wikipedia page: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sophiatown

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St Joseph's Home was an orphanage started for colored children, whose parents had been victims of the First World War. Trevor Huddleston, a much loved Anglican priest, was involved in the orphanage, which became an important landmark of Sophiatown. The buildings of the orphanage now house the Trevor Huddleston Memorial Centre, and are being renovated for use by the Diocesan Church.