Published 31 January 2022 in News
Klyntji
'Octavia Roodt, in this comic, mourns Desmond Tutu'
Klyntji - Art
Published 28 January 2022
(Translated from Afrikaans using Google Translate)
'In die hemel (In the sky)', 2021, giclée print on 230GSM, 98 x 30 cm; created for the exhibition 'Family Dissemblance: A Coda to Gendering in Afrikaner Nationalist Discourse', as part of the conference 'Disturbing Views: Visual Culture and Nationalism in the 20th and 21st Centuries'. The exhibition was compiled by Annemi Conradie and exhibited in virtual space by SARChI Chair in South African Art and Visual Culture.
A longing for the 'rainbow nation'
The loss of Archbishop Desmond Tutu feels like the loss of a guru. Our export product, our contemporary symbol of forgiveness. The American presidential house, the United Nations and Liesbet the second bring tribute and the young Afrikaner mourns together - whether it is for the sake of it or despite his history as a struggle figure. Tutu's name is one of the few ANC era names that will not turn into a quarrel between friends. On the contrary. 'The Book of Joy' (2016, Penguin Random House), Douglas Abrams' recording of conversations between Tutu and the Dalai Lama, is also lent and distributed by Afrikaans friends. That's how I received my copy.
The image of Tutu that I recall is the face that giggles crookedly on the cover of 'The Book of Joy'. Or Zapiro's caricature of him. I think of the purple robe and those crooked, wrinkled hands. The gnarled ring. And then I think of his deliciously-juicy children's books or his appearances on podcasts about social healing and spirituality. His Religion has created space in his tradition. In a certain sentimental (and fickle) mood, I already felt as if he had invited a new South Africa into a global interspirituality.
Mainly, well, I mourn the nostalgia that Tutu has evoked in me. He was the epitome of a type of good faith that I experienced as a South African child. A child's life in the period when the "rainbow nation" fell on deaf ears with less irony. Without much understanding of the implications, of course, that word created a vague sense of hope and security in me. And here I realize that my connotations with Tutu's rainbow nation have less and less to do with the man himself.
When I long for the rainbow nation, I long for the deep, playful optimism of being small. The protection against external claims and the myths that go with it; of omnipotence, of unconditional nurturing without ever having to give back. I hope others knew it too; the child's perfect life as a summer vacation. Long days of jolling, running through hot streets, looking for naughtiness. Looking for an ice cream cart. The crack of the pool gate. Simplicity. Far removed from the complexity of adult life. Far away from the politics of a clean pool.
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Image Credit: 'In die hemell (In the sky)', 2021, giclée print on 230GSM, 98 x 30 cm; created for the exhibition 'Family Dissemblance: A Coda to Gendering in Afrikaner Nationalist Discourse', as part of the conference 'Disturbing Views: Visual Culture and Nationalism in the 20th and 21st Centuries'. The exhibition was compiled by Annemi Conradie and exhibited in virtual space by SARChI Chair in South African Art and Visual Culture.