Tambo’s memory must prick consciences

Tambo’s memory must prick consciences

If he were still alive, Oliver Reginald Tambo would be turning 100 years old this year.
The legendary ANC leader was born on October 27 1917. The year was a defining one in terms of global affairs.

In the same month of his birth in the desolate Eastern Cape village of Nkantolo, eMampondweni, a revolutionary change of government occurred in faraway Russia, one that was to initiate a socialist experiment with profound effects.

The first of the two world wars was also nearing an end that year. In its aftermath came global efforts to create international institutions that would promote peace and co-operation among the nations of the world.

The events that defined Tambo’s year of birth would subsequently preoccupy his life.

In fact, his other name, Kaizana, was both reflective of the history of his people and foretold of his future.

His father, Mzimeni, who had four wives, gave his son the name in honour of Germany’s Kaizer Wilhelm.

It was a gesture of appreciation for the Kaizer having fought against the British in World War 1. Mzimeni had never forgiven the British for colonising AmaMpondo.

The most militarily adept of all the Xhosa groups, AmaMpondo had resisted colonialism and were the most consistent soldiers in the wars that locals waged against British intrusion. They were also the last to fall to British domination as the 19th century came to a close.

Born under British dominion, Oliver
Tambo, like his father before him, was a British subject and thus could not escape the impact of its oppressive, imperial rule.

The family’s encounter with the British had not only been about impoverishment, but was an experience of betrayal that had left them bitterly disappointed.

Having been turned into British subjects through conquest, they were promised equality. What they experienced instead was increasing oppression and further impoverishment as the Union was formed.

Native subjects nevertheless, continued to hold out hope for supposed benevolence from the British rulers. Many enlisted for service in World War 1.

Some died on foreign shores. Those on the SS Mendi died by drowning as their ship sunk in international waters.

Having fought to defend democracy, the survivors were to return to a continuing nightmare of oppression.

Raised on stories of British duplicity, Tambo’s generation was to have the same experience, only it deepened and sharpened.

He was among the early university educated natives. Their achievements should have been indisputable evidence against the racist claim that Africans were inferior to their settler counterparts. With time, the liberal sponsors of Fort Hare University argued, the African elite would be treated equally.

Equality never dawned.

Tambo’s own initial encounter at Fort Hare must have forewarned of the hollowness of the promise of equality.

He had gone to Fort Hare intending to study medicine, but was told to register for a course to become a medical aide. The Union government couldn’t bring itself to allow natives to become medical doctors. Rather, it preferred that Fort Hare served more as a training institute that provided technical skills.

The role of these graduates was to form an apolitical, professional class, serving as subjects in a segregated society.

What the Union government and the liberals did not know, however, was that they had initiated a process over which they would have no control.

Academic honours convinced native graduates even more of the equality of their humanity. Rather than remain apolitical and interested only in their individual advancement, they threw themselves into politics in pursuit of justice for the benefit of all.

They sacrificed self-interest for the public good, making themselves, as the poet SEK Mqhayi once remarked “idini lesizwe!”

In other words, the institution that was meant to be an instrument for social control and produce a collaborationist African elite, became instead, a hub of progressive nationalist resistance.

Heeding the lessons of their history, Tambo’s generation realised that freedom would not come through pleas to officialdom, but required actual activism.

They had to force concessions out of officialdom by bringing harm to South Africa’s political economy. And so mass protests became a prominent form of protest, replacing letter-writing and delegations.

And from a national struggle sparked largely by a local grievance, Tambo turned South Africa’s struggle into an international movement.

He couched the South African question as a human rights problem that resonated with victims of injustice and people of conscience throughout the world.

What I’d like to emphasise is that under Tambo’s leadership throughout the exile years, the ANC realised that popular following was gained through persuasion and exemplary conduct.

The organisation had nothing to offer but the nobility of its ideas.

Their ideas were made even more persuasive because of the authenticity of the leadership. They lived what they said.

Given all I have said above, it is not surprising that our government has decided to commemorate the memory of this iconic leader this year.

The year will be marked by a series of activities throughout the country. The ANC has already initiated the commemorative debate, dedicating a significant portion of its January 8 birthday statement to the life of Tambo.

That was not simply a re-telling of
Tambo’s biography, but a backdrop to encourage unity within the organisation’s ranks.

That’s the point of commemorations: They’re not about re-telling the stories everyone is already familiar with. Rather, they’re meant to decipher the meaning of the person’s life, for it is a representation of national identity.

This means we are in 2017 reminding ourselves of who we are. And, remembering is needed more today than ever before. Compatriots remain polarised, a national grievance continues to linger uncompensated, individual interests trump public good and global affairs appear precarious.

In remembering, one also hopes our collective conscience will be pricked. Our hope is that, once aroused, our conscience will not allow us to dishonour the memory of Oliver Tambo anymore.

Advocate Sonwabile Mancotywa is CEO of the National Heritage Council

This article was sourced from Dispatch Live