PRESERVING CAPE HERITAGE AND CULTURE THROUGH EXPLORING VISUAL ARTS AND EDUCATION
A Glimpse Between Memoirs: Childhood Nostalgia
Artists: Shaunez Benting and Whaleed Ahjum
February 2024
Bo-Kaap Cultural Hub, Bo-Kaap (in collaboration)
Set in the transformed space of the Bo-Kaap Cultural Hub Oemie Room, Shaunez Benting and Whaleed Ahjum took us through a memoir of their childhoods, offering profound insight into their heritage, traditions, and cultural backgrounds within a Cape Malay context. The Oemie Room was transformed from a workshop space to an art gallery, effectively capturing the audiences’ attention through sight and sound, with voice-over memories being played through the sound system, and projected videos of the artists speaking about their art practice
Through the medium of fine art, these artists articulated and invoked a sense of yearning and a reminder of crucial spaces and memories, as experienced through childhood to adulthood. Benting focused on spaces, depicting fond memories he and his peers occupied for play during a tumultuous time in South Africa’s history - Apartheid. Ahjum’s work expressed a deeply personal account of a family history supplemented by archival research into his own heritage and maternal lineage.
By revisiting the historical tapestry of South Africa, encompassing both its triumphs and challenges, the artists craft a narrative that is both intricate and deeply personal. They serve as poignant reminders of the historical struggles endured by our predecessors and their strength, shaping our present-day sense of community.
Nostalgia plays a crucial role in comprehending how individual and organisational identities are shaped, as it serves as a tool for preserving a collective sense of socio-historic continuity, as well as a mechanism for resisting hegemonic influences and providing a form of defiance. This approach entrusts us with the responsibility of shaping our own narratives and determining how we wish to be perceived in the archives of history. The artists choose to depict cherished memories from their childhood or collective experiences, infusing their beautiful creations with rich context in a delightful way.
Nostalgia is commonly depicted as a somber soul condition; however, it can also serve as a reflection for youthful self-exploration and enlightenment. This exhibition underscores the significance of nostalgia and heritage, harnessing this sentiment to craft a sense of "collective self-authorship." A collective self-authorship holds significance as it empowers communities that have historically been misrepresented and continue to grapple with the repercussions of such misrepresentation. Benting and Ahjam opt to utilize historical artifacts to examine their current circumstances and honour their ancestors.
As both artists share Cape Malay heritage, their rich cultural history allows them to connect with their compelling past. Benting delves into his childhood recollections, opting to portray the marginalized spaces and communities that he grew up in, which flourished despite enduring an oppressive regime. By delving into past imagery, Benting accentuates the enduring cultural vibrancy that remains pertinent in the contemporary era. Ahjum explores his South East Asian roots and how it intersects with the Cape Malay culture and heritage in Cape Town. Rediscovering and re-establishing a deeper connection with his cultural roots and heritage. We accompany Benting and Ahjum as they navigate through their memories, intertwining shared cultural references that resonate universally. Benting reflects on the innocent moments of his childhood, capturing the essence of growing up in District Six and various other locales. Ahjum, in his quest to embrace his lineage, gazes upon the tapestry woven with the traditions, legacies, and customs of his forebears.
The Archives
by Whaleed Ahjum
As the artists share Cape Malay heritage, their rich cultural history and heritage allows them to connect with their compelling past. Both colonialism and apartheid in South Africa led to unique methods through which communities sought to preserve their culture and it is this cultural heritage that is explored through works of art.
“The figure's hand rests upon the hilt of a Keris (or Kris) a dagger which would serve as modern western rings do today. Up to three would be worn, one given by one's father when one came of age, one denoting rank or status, and one which was presented by the father of their wife- the decoration on the pommel would
correspond to a buckle worn by her around her waist. Similarly to the Yemeni Jambiya, the owner would never be without a Kris. As these were all plundered by the invading European companies, their value as social, cultural and individual identifiers was lost on them and simply regarded as mere weapons.
According to our oral family history, we are descended from Sayed Mahmoud. Brought to the Cape of Storms as a political exile: the religious advisor to his fellow exile and Sultan, Sheikh Abdurahman Matebe Shah, named the last Sultan of Malacca (Melaka) after an arduous battle held at Soesoerang Castle. As the last of the court of Melaka, they posed a notable threat as a rally point for revolt against
the invading colonists and so were taken to the distant forests of Constantia.
His karamat, or mazaar, stands atop Islam Hill. The title is taken from the inscription
at his mazaar.”
The exhibition underscored the significance of nostalgia and cultural heritage, harnessing this sentiment to craft a sense of "collective self-authorship."
“The orchids of Java have occupied my memory and imagination since childhood. My mother would note our shared origin and her affinity for the flower was indistinguishable from her way of retaining a connection with her heritage and her appreciation of the aesthetic qualities prized in Europe for the scarcity in northern chimes, a bid by colonies to accrue wealth by exploiting the natural resources through exoticizing them just as they had previously done by stealing by stealing and smuggling Tulips from Iran nearly a century before.”
A collective self-authorship holds significance as it empowers communities that have historically been misrepresented and continue to grapple with the repercussions of such misrepresentation. The artists opt to utilize historical artifacts to examine their current circumstances and honour their ancestors.
“This series highlights the exoticization of Flora. In the Dutch tradition of still-life painting, the floral subjects were a jeer of sorts. The flowers would never exist in the same time or place, as their seasons and climes would have made it impossible at the time, but it was a sort of trophy wall of exploited lands and people. Every petal would have cost many lives for the bouquet. Civilizations destroyed and families torn asunder, exiled or enslaved.”
Artist Whaleed Ahjum explores his Southeast Asian roots and how it intersects with the Cape Malay culture and heritage in Cape Town. Rediscovering and re-establishing a deeper connection with his cultural roots and heritage.
“Portraying the Karamat or Mazaar of Sayed Mahmoud. As relayed in our family oral tradition, they are descended from Orang Cayen and interred here. One of three nobles exiled to the Cape, stripped of their symbols of office (the Keris- disregarded its significance and most likely taken as plunder).
The negative space in the form of a Kris references the phenomenon of “the presence of absence”. The object was an integral part of one's identity (as referenced in the related piece: “Man is but a Shadow, and Life a Dream, 2024”).
The title refers to the prophecy of a Circle of Saints, which now circumscribes the Cape Peninsula of which there are 23.”
Whaleed Ahjum, in his quest to embrace his lineage, gazes upon the tapestry woven with the traditions, legacies, and customs of his forebears.
“This piece depicts the Karamat of Sheikh Abduraghman Matebe Shah; who was exiled along with Sayed Mahmud, and is listed as the last Sultan of Malacca. The title refers to the prophecy of a Circle of Saints, which now circumscribes the Cape Peninsula of which there are 23.”
We accompany the artists as they navigate through memorable moments, intertwining shared cultural references that resonate universally.
“Inspired by the novel of the same title by M. Cassiem D’Arcy. When we were children, my sister found a copy in our local library, read it in a single sitting and suggested I read it. It was the first time we found anything written about our people and the fictional account told the story of an enslaved prince entrusted with the eponymous Kris, the symbol of the true ruler of their people.
Later in life when I sought to find out more about our heritage, I came across the legend of Hang Tua and his unwavering loyalty and his vow that he - himself become a symbol of loyalty and Malay pride - that he shall return when the Keris/ Kris was recovered, much like the famed Excalibur.”
The past serves as poignant reminders of the historical struggles endured by our predecessors and their strength, shaping our present-day sense of community.
“This piece is a tribute to my mother's family name, Ockards, who was so named for the orange orchards which they were once stewards, in Kimberly, South Africa. First arriving in the Cape as political exiles from the Malay archipelago for resisting the Dutch colonial entity of the VOC. Their descendants ended up moving north, to Kimberly, where a stone pillar stands to commemorate the Malay Camp. There they came to be charged with caring for an orange orchard; a reminder of their heritage, with lemon and citrus being an essential part of their culture. The Keris (Kris- a dagger with undulating curves) once worn by their men, would be maintained and cared for by rubbing the damascene blade with lemon leaves, imparting the aroma and oils to clean and protect the blade and held over burning frankincense and myrrh - or miyang and lobaan - the resinous smoke would scent the blade and deposit a protective sheen all while reciting protective verses from the Qur'an.
Disarmed, for obvious reasons, the trace was retained in the tradition of the Moulood an-Nabi, the commemoration of the birth of the Prophet Muhammad (SAW) and upon departing from the ceremony, then held in secret, the men would receive Rampai or Rampies, silk packets of cut lemon leaves, doused in rose water to be placed in one's clothes chest or wardrobe which would leave a scent on the clothes and deter pests. They retain the aroma and would be replaced in the passing of the lunar year till the next
Moulood.
Upon the death of the master of the orange farm, so impressed with their character and care with which they treated the citrus trees, he left the family [vir kind en kinderen] the estate; asking that they take the name Ockards to ensure the claim. The land, seized under Apartheid, is no longer theirs, but the name remains. A connection to their roots, their past and traditions.”
By depicting images and themes that are rooted in a particular time period or cultural context, artists can help to keep those traditions alive and cultures relevant, even as the world around us changes and evolves, it can preserve what might be lost.
“Growing up, Sunday mornings meant getting up early, being given an odd plate with a floral design (every other of the set had befallen an untimely end) covered with a dish towel and some money would be palmed before being sent to the local “Koesiester Aunty”.
In my case, it was my aunt who lived across the road, which meant that if you had been at her house the night before, you would be tasked with grinding the cinnamon, aniseed, dried naartjie peel etc. in a brass pestle and mortar. She took it as a personal insult if asked if she bought pre- ground spices.
The scent would fill the home as everyone sat down to a cup of tea and this sugary delight, covering the table with a sprinkling of coconut.”
Preserving culture and heritage through the exploration of art and themes, like childhood nostalgia and cultural heritage, is a means of safeguarding untold stories in order to protect authentic narratives within communities.
“Growing up and learning about my family's history and connection (to the earth and citrus) through their traditions and personal history, plants have always held a certain captivation over my imagination. I'd think of how, as the cool air would descend at sunset, carrying the fragrance of citrus blossoms and leaves as they rustled in the breeze, mirrored in scent imbued in my ancestors clothing from the rampies placed within their wardrobes or chests. I'd tell myself over the years, "I want orange and lemon trees flanking the entrance of my home" so that whoever enters is greeted by scent and I would - and still do- pluck a young leaf from a tree when I encounter one and rub the waxy surface between my fingers, emitting the fresh familiar scent.”
“The price of a people - the Island of SouthEast Asia was coveted for their spices - cloves were prized for many reasons. Cloves were part of the lives of the Melayu people, from adding aromatics to dishes, to their anesthetic and antimicrobial medicinal properties. Traditionally used to treat the batik to prevent fungal contamination, the cloth would carry the aroma when worn. Today popular in Indonesian kretik (tobacco mixed with crushed clove and clove oil) or simply clove cigarettes)".
The future of cultural preservation lies in our collective efforts to embrace and celebrate diversity, honouring traditions, and protecting heritage for generations to come.
“The protea was chosen as a symbol for national identity but is believed that they are endemic to the Cape, not nationwide. Furthermore, proteas are found both in the South Americas and Australia, both regions sporting a greater variety. This series highlights the exoticization of flora. In the Dutch tradition of still-life painting, the floral subjects were a jeer of sorts. The flowers would never exist in the same time or place, as their seasons and climes would have made it impossible at the time, but it was a sort of trophy wall of exploited lands and people. Every petal would have cost many lives for the bouquet. Civilizations were destroyed and families were torn asunder, exiled or enslaved.”
As technology advances, we have new tools at our disposal to document, digitize, and share our cultural heritage and practices with a global audience. However, the key to successful preservation will always be rooted in fostering a deep appreciation for the richness and uniqueness of our culture.
“Batik, the method of wax resist printing of fabric originated in the Malay archipelago and is an integral part of the Melayu identity. The production and export have been appropriated and exploited by the Dutch during their colonization of the region. Moving the production and forced labour to Africa, eventually resulting in what is known as “ShweShwe”. However, in the tradition of Batik, the motifs have significant symbolism often drawn from the flora of the region island of items of daily relation like the sword/parang, each identifiable with a region or ethnic group.
For this piece I used the stylized representation of the King Protea flower, imagining, in a way, if given access to the resources of their homeland, a motif that might have been created within their new home.”
Our Cape Town Heritage helps to maintain a sense of identity, fostering a strong sense of community, and promotes accessibility by exploring and preserving heritage and culture.
“Inspired by the Indonesian Green peacock; though less well known than its cousin from the Indian subcontinent. The stately bird is placed before the batik-inspired motif of stylized cloves and clove buds.
Batik, the wax-resistant textile art, originates from what is now Malaysia and Indonesia. After colonization of Malacca, Nusantara and the surrounding islands, the craft was industrialized and production was brought to Africa and carried out by slaves to export to Europe. The wax printing tradition has taken on its form in Africa - one result is what is now known and marketed as Shweshwe, a far departure from the undulating floral motifs of its origin.”
The themes within the exhibition ‘A Glimpse Between Memoirs’ serves as a reminder of our past, opens a dialogue that chronicles our present stories and acts as a catalyst that preserves the future of our culture and heritage; rediscovering the rich traditions of the Cape Malay heritage.
The exhibition is significant as it contributes to the ongoing dialogue surrounding cultural preservation, highlighting the critical need to safeguard against cultural erasure and appropriation.
“Indonesian orchids were my mother's favourite flower. She felt an affinity towards them as they linked her to her heritage. According to the family oral tradition, we are descended from one of the first three political exiles, taken from Soesoerang Castle and exiled to the Cape of Good Hope, in the Constantia forest, kept from the general population for fear of raising insurrection.
She, her family and her community, retained their connection to Malaccan and Nusantaran Straits, now Malaysia and Indonesia, through cultural practices. A large part was connected to citrus, spice and floral natural heritage, which was relegated to mere “resources” by their colonial occupiers. The scent of citrus leaves and the perfume of orchids were links that rooted the displaced Diaspora to their homelands. My mother would tell me how she ordered her wedding bouquet to be centred around the Indonesian orchids and there would be a mournful note to her voice as she would say, "They are where we are from."
She instilled a sense of justice and refusal to allow injustice to prevail. To always stand against oppression, as we always have. She taught me about art, principles of design, and that no matter what an oppressor can take from you, there are two things they can never take; your knowledge & dignity. "So enrich yourself with education for the first and never give away the second.”
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