Reblog www.voxunion.com/revolution-and-race-in-ada-ferrers-insurgent-cuba/

In Insurgent Cuba: Race, Nation, and Revolution, 1868-1898
, Ada Ferrer describes a nationalist revolutionary process in late Nineteenth Century Cuba that created new subject positions for African descended Cubans, enslaved and free, which in turn threatened the symbolic order such that social relations formed under a slave-society regime exercised a counter pressure that frustrated the most liberatory practices of the independence struggle. The threat to the social order in Cuba following the 1868 declaration of the independence struggle resulted in a propaganda offensive from the Spanish colonial government that initially succeeded by invoking the modern colonial symbolic order through the accusation of “race war”. The partnering of independence and emancipation first articulated by Carlos Manuel De Cespedes in 1868 produced a tension between what a Cuban nationality could mean in the face of a freed and armed Black population and a Hispano-Catholic cultural hegemony. The power of the symbolic order emerges always and already asserting itself under any historical condition. Defined as language, the attempt to describe and assign meaning to the experience of “the real,” and enacted through the formal and informal uses of language by institutions and individuals, people perform the symbolic order through custom and habit. We reproduce the symbolic order through law, education, commerce, customary behaviors, and the myriad conscious and unconscious retellings of the “…legends, stories, history, and above all historicity” (Fanon 112) that inhabit our understanding of how the world does and “should” work. The symbolic exerts a policing action on worldview, placing boundaries on what should be imagined. In other words, the symbolic order is the ideological ground upon which the subject figure acts.
The symbolic order under the regime of modern colonialism and slavery has posited the ontological difficulty of “blackness.” Blackness, as a human condition, has been constructed as a sign of both the absence and the negation of civilization. Indeed, the possibility of human blackness has even been brought into question as Western intellectuals have for centuries now seriously debated whether black peoples are members of the human species, or to what degree black people may be humans. Whereas the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century bourgeois revolutions of the Americas and Europe reformed the Western symbolic relationship among social classes, raising the citizen-subject to ontological equality with the traditional nobility, introducing new behaviors and new explanations for those behaviors, black revolutionary struggle, as in Haiti, threatens to overturn the symbolic order more fundamentally, that is, from its foundation. For example, in response to the colonial state invoking “race war” as the proper representation of the independence struggle, Cuban nationalists of the 1880s and 1890s invoked a policy of “racelessness.” The nationalists invented racelessness specifically to erase the blackness of the independence struggle while avoiding an open appeal to whiteness. But racelessness, as Ada Ferrer shows, means different things from different subject positions. An attempt to shift the terrain of the symbolic, “racelessness” remains trapped in the language of race and the practice of white privilege, thus reproducing the ruling ideology.
Another aspect of the symbolic order, gender, also complicates the meaning of independence and national character. In their own representation of the emerging Cuban nation, the Cuban nationalists of the late Nineteenth Century constructed an emphatically masculine image of the nation. Governance remained the domain of men, black and/or white, those who through their struggle and sacrifice made independence possible. The nationalist writers erase the contributions of women, without whom the war for independence could not succeed. They erase the women from their representations of the struggle, thus excluding women from the public sphere of an independent Cuba. On the gender question, the rebel army and nationalist intellectuals reproduced the symbolic order apparently without question, and this was despite the very active cadres of women forming revolutionary clubs, support committees and raising funds for the fight as Nancy Mirabal describes in “No Country but the One We Must Fight For” (62). These tensions produced by challenges to the symbolic order and recourses to the symbolic order coalesce in the court martial of Quintin Bandera, a successful Black general of the rebel army, discussed below.
Struggle transforms. When Carlos Manuel De Cespedes freed his slaves, declared them co-citizens and exhorted them to join him and other Cuban patriots in an armed struggle against the Spanish colonizer, he invited those African men into new subject positions, namely into a new claim to a Black subjectivity in the public sphere. The call to independence and emancipation, the two being constructed as necessary for the realization of each other, and the call for African men to participate in the practice of independence and emancipation, created a sanctioned public space for Black subjectivity within a symbolic order that denies or at best doubts the possibility of a public Black subjectivity. The Black body is already marked as an object, the body par excellence, if not exclusively, that can be enslaved. The constructed pre-condition of the enslaved/enslaveable Black body made the certificate of freedom necessary for free Africans in slave societies, the authority of the master represented through the law embodied in the text of the certificate, here invoked to supersede the symbolic order of custom. Unlike the unsanctioned public subjectivity of the maroon communities, the palenques, De Cespedes’ call to revolution and emancipation constructed Black armed resistance as a creative force in the forging of the nation, rather than the destructive element preventing the emergence of the nation. It was after all, Ferrer reports, the prominent African descent population that allowed Spain to represent Cuba as incapable of nationhood because the nation would be a Black nation, another Haiti, in a sense an anti-nation. I will return to this subject below.

African men expressed their new subject positions through new and open challenges to traditional social relations during the independence war. Ferrer offers the example of Emeterio Palacios, a free black tobacco worker from Santiago who was detained by the Spanish authorities for suspicion of supporting the rebel cause. What is of significant interest in his case has less to do with his actual or perceived support of the rebels, but rather with the manner in which he (allegedly) greeted a white man familiarly in a café. Ferrer reports Palacios as having withheld the honorific title Don from the white man, D. Jose Gilli, and instead calling Gilli ciudadanito [little citizen]: “Palacios thus not only denied him the don to address him as “citizen” and therefore as an equal, but he also opted for the diminutive form of the word, much in the same manner that non-blacks often addressed blacks as negrito” (41). Palacios’s familiarity was taken as a threat to public order of the same high order as any possible rebel activity. Indeed, they are of a piece, the leveling of social relations both through race, class, and the claim to citizenship.
Again, Ferrer offers Antonio Maceo as an illuminating example of the challenge to the symbolic order expressed through traditional social relations. When the Spanish commander Martinez Campos approached Maceo to bring him into the Pact of Zanjon, which inscribed the negotiated surrender of the Cuban rebels after ten years of war, Maceo, having already assumed a position in the symbolic order denied to him on at least two counts as colonial subject and a mulato, that of an honorable man, he also challenged Spain’s claim to being a civilized nation, equating civilization and progress with full emancipation and social equality. As long as Spain was a slave owning empire, which is to say an empire at all, colonialism being a species of slavery, the colonial state could not be characterized as civilized. Maceo turns the colonial symbolic order on its head (66).
Nonetheless, the symbolic order is resilient and adaptable. It frames the ideology of a culture and gives shape to the content of that ideology, reproducing the ideology through the embodied actions of people, including those cultural acts like speech acts or the exercise of politeness or courtesy. Even in the execution of the war, the tension created by the challenge to the symbolic order reveals the difficulty with which those invested in the maintenance of the order attempt to reproduce traditional social relations. Insurgent white officer Ignacio Mora’s specific criticisms about the transfer of power from the white Cuban Ignacio Agramonte to the black Dominican Maximo Gomez betray a cultural-racial-national anxiety. Ferrer reproduces this passage from his war diary:
“If [Gomez] has not destroyed the Camaguey division and converted it into bands, it is because its officer corps, formed by Agramonte, still remember the maxims and rules of their old leader. How jarring it is to see today’s camps! The noise, the gambling [el juego], the shooting of cattle, the tango of the blacks, the wild parties, and the filth of these camps warn us that their leader completed his apprenticeship in Santo Domingo. Everything reveals his poor upbringing and the society from which he comes.” (52)
Mora clearly experienced anxiety over the shifting cultural forms of recreation in the camps. War had been conducted as a “gentlemen’s” endeavor for centuries, reproducing the class structure of civilian society. His comments replicate the myths, stories and legends that cast African cultural forms as inherently immoral and antithetical to “the love of discipline, order, or morality” (52). Even his reference to “bands” may allude to unease with a shift to guerrilla tactics by Gomez. The culture of war came into tension with the shifting subjectivities that the rupture of the independence war allowed to emerge.
Under the modern colonial condition of white supremacy, the black body represents a troubling presence. The symbolic order under white supremacist colonialism demands that blackness, however widely or narrowly represented, to be defined as a problem. Thus, the pressure exerted by the hegemonic symbolic order rendered the notion of an African Cuba, another Haiti, unthinkable except as a nightmare by slave societies and their neo-slavery arrangements following emancipation throughout the Americas in the Nineteenth Century. Colonial Spain could therefore easily employ a propaganda war to exploit the fear of race war and the anxiety produced in the rebel camps by the darkening of the ranks and the officer corps. Mora, cited above, was not among those rebels who surrendered to Spain in 1871, but he agreed with those who surrendered that the “problem” with the rebel army, the reason for its de-moralization, could be found in its increasingly African descended character. Elite men asserted the old class hierarchies and racial hierarchies within the rebel army, and these assertions crashed against the new public faces of African men, Cuban citizens and patriots making claims to equality through shared armed struggle and the embrace of the values of the French Revolution: Liberte’, Egalite’, Fraternite’.
The representation of the independence struggle as a race war effectively demoralized white Cuban support for the war both within the rebel army and among the civilian population. To combat claims of race war by Blacks against whites during the period between La Guerra Chiquita and the final war for independence, 1880 to 1895, the Cuban nationalists on the island and in exile reconstructed the war under the rubric of racelessness. But racelessness is a tricky proposition. It remains within the semantic field of race language. The appeal to racelessness in the hands and from the pens of the most sympathetic of white Cubans could not transcend the “problem” of blackness. Racelessness as a position was necessary because the racist anxieties of the white population needed to be assuaged. In this way, racelessness reinforced a Eurocentric premise: the opinions and attitudes that mattered most were the opinions, fears and attitudes of whites, not blacks. Ferrer explains that the whitening of Cuba through increased Spanish immigration in the period helped the nationalists in this reconstruction of the discourse of the Ten Years’ War. Indeed, throughout Latin America, ruling elites encouraged and facilitated European immigration in order to whiten the overwhelmingly Mestizo/Mulato populations.
Even as the final war in the 1890s drew to a close, and before the United States’ intervention, another sort of whitening occurred with the moving of white Cubans, many late comers to the struggle, into the military administrative positions that would eventually become the local governance, and thus limited or eliminated the possibility of black leadership in the future civilian administration of the nation. Suitability for leadership became associated with “refinement” and “civility” and education, traits preconceived as nearly impossible in the black individual and monopolized by elite families. Consistent with early Spanish colonial policy regarding gentes de razon or “persons of reason,” namely those conversant in the Spanish language, the sign of a rational mind, the turn to refinement as the mark of suitability for leadership again reproduced the lie that on the one hand equates progress, modernity and civilization with European history and culture, and on the other alienates Spain’s (and other European and settler colonialists’) colonial subjects from their own histories and cultures in antagonistic relation to Europe and whiteness. Black majority threatens white existence and thus must remain controlled.
In contrast, in the hands and from the pens of black Cuban nationalists, the appeal to racelessness was an appeal to the democratic and egalitarian principles of the independence struggle. It should have meant the removal of traditional barriers to advancement or access to power. When it did not mean that, but instead denied access to African descended persons or facilitated the advancement of white individuals in order to remove the suggestion of favoritism toward blacks and mulattos, and thus remove charges of race war like those routinely aimed at Maceo, black Cuban intellectuals decried the practice as fundamentally treasonous, betraying the very ideals upon which the struggle was launched by Manuel de Cespedes in 1868, indeed antithetical to slogan of the French Revolution used freely by the Cubans: liberty, equality, fraternity. Ferrer effectively demonstrates this in her comparative analysis of the writings of Juan Gualberto Gomez, a mulatto journalist, and Cuban patriot Jose Marti. Once again betraying the anxiety producing presence of the black body, the black insurgent was a prominent figure for reconstruction. Whereas the white reading audience needed to be reassured of the fidelity and even passivity of the black insurgent, grateful and deferential under arms, black and mulatto writers writing for a black press championed the black insurgents’ dedication to Cuban nationality, gratitude for the independence struggle that led to the end of slavery, but also the reminder of the nation’s debt of gratitude to the black insurgents. Black and white Cuban nationalists both represented race war waged by blacks against whites as unthinkable and the accusation as slanderous.
Finally, Ferrer effectively raises the problematic of gender in the representations of the independence struggle. The Cuban independence writers constructed a singularly masculine image of the nation. The descriptions of men, black and white, struggling as brothers in arms, suffering the hardships of camp life and war, dying in each other’s arms and carrying each other’s wounded bodies placed a claim on the public sphere of the emerging nation. These writers constructed the nation as the creation of modern Cuban men inventing a new kind of brotherhood in the world. This representation is, of course, a fiction. Ferrer mentions the participation of mambisas, Cuban women who fought in battle with the men (174). Susan D. Greenbaum discusses Paulina Pedroso, a black Cuban woman living in Tampa, Florida, during the independence struggle who among other activities organized locally in support of independence (53). Mirabal reports on organizations founded by Cuban and Puerto Rican women in support of the independence struggle when they were barred from joining the male revolutionary clubs formed by the exile communities in North America, organizations like La Hijas de Cuba that challenged the hegemony of all-male groups like Junta Revolucionaria de Cuba y Puerto Rico (62). Nonetheless, the masculinist language of the independence movements constrained access to power for women engaged in the struggle: “They remained, despite their efforts and relative power, outside of the decision-making body of what was quickly becoming the main exile nationalist organization, the PRC [Partido Revolucionario Cubano] (64). This masculinist discourse of nation doubly erased the contributions of African descended Cuban women.
Like the black presence, and with its own body of myths, stories, legends, histories and historicities, the female presence is also troubling in the masculinist symbolic order of patriarchal culture. To return to a point introduced above, Ferrer’s discussion of the court martial of Quintin Bandera focuses on the cultural differences that emerged in the accusations against him, namely his openness about his fraternization with women in the camp, even though what he was accused of was a widespread practice throughout the rebel army, if done under cover of dark, as it were. Among other things, the morality of his camp was impugned because of the presence of his female partner and those of his men in the camp, rather than at a remove as was the custom. A “rustic” man, Bandera’s manner clashed with the expectations of the more “refined” Cuban leadership. Bandera broke with the expectations and the representation of the rebel camp as an exclusively masculine space. The broader, more inclusive and accurate model for the nation could have been taken from Bandera’s example, except that it too deeply upset the symbolic order that had been inscribed regarding the makers of the nation. I even wonder to what degree Bandera and the men and women in his army may have been conducting the practice of war in a maroon manner. That is mere speculation. But I am fascinated by the suggestion.
Ferrer’s use of the war diaries and memoirs of the rebels provide an illuminating view into the ways in which political and social struggle transforms social relations and public subjectivities. The African descended men (and women) who participated in this struggle in the thousands on the one hand seized upon this opportunity to abolish the slave society that held many of them and/or their family members as chattel, and on the other hand to participate in the forging of a new, independent modern nation, one that would owe them loyalty and gratitude for their service. Ferrer’s examination of the independence writers also offers another example the role of a discourse of nationalism and the press in inventing the nation. Nonetheless, the racialized symbolic order of modernity (re)imposed itself upon the Cuban struggle for independence, highlighting the difficulty involved in dismantling systems of hierarchy and oppression, however necessary the work, something to which contemporary Revolutionary Cuba attended early in its process when Fidel claimed African blood flowing freely through Cuban veins as constitutive of Cuban identity (qtd. in Cole 77). Revolutionary Cuba acted upon this heritage through internationalist solidarity with liberation and revolutionary movements and nations in Africa and the Africa Diaspora. Whereas Revolutionary Cuba has also inherited and promoted its own version of racelessness, and despite lingering racists attitudes and assumptions in Cuba, the revolution has at least seriously attempted to reconcile the African character of Cuban history, culture and genealogy with a contemporary Cuban national identity, another form of challenge to the modern symbolic order. Read Ada Ferrer’s Insurgent Cuba. She provides valuable lessons for us as some of us continue to work for a free world, for genuine African liberation.
W. Yusef Doucet is a faculty member of the Santa Monica College English Department. He co-founded and facilitated the Dyamsay Writers’ Workshop in Santa Monica, CA, the Third Root Writers’ Workshop in Pomona, CA, and a poetry reading series at the Velocity Café in Santa Monica, CA. Yusef is currently working on a Ph.D. in Cultural Studies at Claremont Graduate University. His research interests include Fanonian analysis, the policing effect of integrationist/post-racialist ideology and anti-blackness in the modern symbolic order. Yusef keeps a blog at freeignace.wordpress.com.
Works Cited
Castro, Fidel. “We Stand with the People of Africa.” Venceremos Brigade Pamphlet. 1976. Quoted in “Afro-American Solidarity with Cuba. Johnetta B. Cole. The Black Scholar: Report from Cuba. Summer 1977.
Greenbaum, Susan D. “Afro-Cubans in Tampa.” The Afro-Latin@ Reader: History and Culture in the United States. Eds. Miriam Jimenez Roman and Juan Flores. Duke University Press: Durham, 2010. Pp. 51-61.
Fanon, Frantz. “The Fact of Blackness.” Black Skin, White Masks. Trans. Charles Lam Markmann. Grove Press: New York, 1967. Pp. 109-140.
Ferrer, Ada. Insurgent Cuba: Race, Nation, and Revolution, 1868-1898. University of North Carolina Press, Chapel Hill, 1999.
Mirabal, Nancy, Raquel. “No Country but the One We Fight For: The Emergence of an Antillean Nation and Community in New York City, 1860-1901.” Mambo Montage. Eds. Agustin Lao-Montes and Arlene Davila. Columbia University Press: New York, 2001. Pp. 57-72.
SETTLER COLONIALISTS AND THEIR “EMPTY LAND” THEORY
Jan van Riebeeck in Tafelbaai
On 16 February 2012, speaking in a purported “New South Africa” Parliament, a former member of the apartheid colonialist National Party, now leading the opposition Freedom Front Plus, claimed that Africans are not the original inhabitants of 40% of Azania, which colonialists called South Africa on 2Oth September 1909.His name is Pieter Mulder. He is a minister of agriculture in the ANC Government led by President Jacob Zuma.
Mulder posits that Africans whom he calls Bantu, never in the past lived in the whole of South Africa. “The Bantu-speaking people moved from the Equator down south while the white people moved from the Cape to meet each other at the Kei River.” He does not disclose that the colonialists came from Europe. Their sole purpose was to take African lands by terrorist militarism. He does mention the Khoi and San people, whom colonialists called Hottentots and Bushmen respectively.
This reflects a despicable colonial attempt to falsify African history and conceal the genocide that colonialists perpetrated on the Khoisan African people. They were not only in the Western Cape but all over Azania as were all various other African people. For instance, King Adam Kok, one of the Khoi Kings still has a town called Kokstad after his name in what is known as Griqualand in the Eastern Cape. The Khoi Africans in the Western Cape under King Koebaha Heijkon maintained trade links with the Xhosa-speaking Africans to the North East of the Cape. The Dutch officials kept records that show that Europeans were amazed that the Khoi Africans traded copper ore with the Xhosa-speaking Africans. The Khoi also traded in goats with the Batswana.
Hendrik Witbooi was a King of the Nama section of the Khoi Africans that lived in parts of both Azania and Namibia. This was before colonialists gave colonial names to these African countries. It was also long before the imperialist Berlin Conference boundaries drawn by European imperialists. In July 1892, Major Curt von Francis of the German army ordered King Witbooi to surrender his African country to the Germans.
The Khoi King replied, “Africa belongs to us, both through the hue of our skin and our way of life. We belong together. And this Africa is entirely our country. The fact that we possess a variety of diverse LANDS and variety of kingships does not mean any secondary division and does not sever our solidarity. The Emperor of Germany has no business in Africa.”
Before Jan van Riebeeck in 1652
The beneficiaries of European colonialism have no business to claim an inch of African soil. Long before Jan van Riebeeck of the Dutch East India Company established a “provision station” in the Southern tip of Africa (Western Cape) the first war of national resistance against European colonial aggression was fought in this part of Azania (South Africa). The colonial aggressors were Portuguese. Their war of colonial aggression was led by Dom Francisco de Almeida. The Khoi people with a section of the Xhosa allies won this war. This was at the Battle of Salt River. It took place in 1510.All the Portuguese colonialists were killed. Probably as a result of this victory, it took 142 years before Europeans dared invade Azania.
It was after the arrival of Jan van Riebeeck through the Azanian Sea (now colonially called “Indian Ocean”) that Africans fought several wars of national resistance against colonialism. One of the first of such wars was fought beneath Table Mountain. This war was led by a Khoi leader called Doman. The colonial wars against the Khoi, as against the rest of Africans throughout Azania were in 1657, 1659 and 1673 to 1677. These three wars against colonialism by Khoi and San proved that the bravery of these sons and daughters of Africa was no match for the military terrorism of imperialist aggressors.
But even then, a Khoi African king in today’s Western Cape asked Jan van Riebeeck, “If we (Africans), were to come to Europe, would we be permitted to act in a similar manner you act here? It would not matter if you stayed at the “provision station”, but you come out here in the interior. You select the best land for yourselves. You never ask us, even once, whether we like it or not or whether it will disadvantage us. You say land is not enough for the pastures of your cattle and sheep as well as ours. Tell me, Jan van Riebeeck and your colonial settlers. Who then, with the greatest degree of justice should give way, the natural owner or the foreign invader?”
“Empty Land” In Azania Is Colonial Insanity
Colonialists are hungry for the riches of Africa and they have desperately tried to make their own wishful thinking the history of Africa ever since they landed in Africa. In 1961 the colonial prime minster of South Africa, Hendrick Verwoerd told an audience in London. “More than 300 years ago, two population groups equally foreign to South Africa converged in rather small numbers on what was practically empty land. Neither group colonised or robbed the other by invasion.”
His Foreign Affairs Minister, Eric Louw had earlier said, “The Bantu began to trek from the North across the Limpopo when Jan van Riebeeck landed at Table Bay in 1652.”
The colonial “empty land” theory has no historical credence. It is conceived in the womb of imperialism. Pieter Mulder suggests that the records of the Boer Trekkers must be consulted to prove his ridiculous point of view. This would be like asking the European Allies in the Second World to consult Nazi history records. The colonisers of Azania have worked for centuries to turn Azania into an “Australia” or “New Zealand.” South Africa is the only British colony in Africa that was called a “dominion.” Britain and its colonial settlers smuggled the African country it had colonised into the League of Nations and into the United Nations as a “sovereign state”, though the coloniser and its settlers could not tell the world on what date South Africa was returned to its rightful owners.
In 1930, reports on excavations at Mapungubwe in the Limpopo area revealed skeletal remains of what was called “ancient Azanians.” (See also Old Africa Rediscovered page 95, The Lost Cities Of Africa pages 155-156 by Basil Davidson; Man In Africa by L.S.B. Leakey; The History Of The World J.M. Roberts pages 457-458; Apartheid: The Story Of A Dispossessed People published by Marram Books London 1984 with a foreword by former Professor of history at Harvard University, C L R James).
A British academic, Shula Marks has pointed out that the carbon dates that have been processed from the Early Iron Age stretching over central, eastern and southern Africa reveal that the first Iron Age African farmers arrived here in the first millenium and not as had been previously assumed, relatively late in the second.” Prof. Marks further stated that “The earliest dates we have for the Iron Age in South Africa go back to 1200 years before the Portuguese rounded the southern tip of the Continent of Africa.” This will be about 286 A.D. When it is considered that there were some Europeans who passed through this country earlier than Portuguese Diaz in 1486, the date is much earlier. Addressing a symposium in 1973 on ancient mining in Azania (South Africa), head of archaeology department of Witwatersrand University stated that “the early Iron Age Africans entered Transvaal between 27 B.C. and 473 A.D.”
Heinous atrocities committed against the Khoi and San Africans is to the degree that they were exterminated. They are a few Khoi in South Africa today, but hardly any San people. The San had to flee to Namibia, Botswana and Angola to survive their colonial extermination from the colonial settlers. Here are a few examples: In 1771 another war broke out between the San people and the Dutch settlers. The San people had begun to retaliate against the setters. The settlers had taken large tracts of their hunting land for farming. As a result of this war, the settler leadership ordered that “every Bushman, Hottentot or Bastaad robber of any sex or age be delivered alive at Robben Island, there to serve the Dutch Company in chains….The Graaf Reinet turned out too late, but Jan van der Walt of the Koude Bokkeveld and Jonker Afrikaner…did yeoman service killing over 600 Bushmen and taking a few alive. As a reward for all this, Van der Walt was given two farms on the Nieuwveld,” writes Erick A Walker in his book A History Of Southern Africa page 118.
It is estimated that the population of the Khoi people when the colonisers arrived in the Western Cape was over a quarter million. Their extermination was not only with colonial guns. Leprosy disease introduced from passing European ships decimated the Khoi people. They had no clue how to treat this foreign disease. They died in great numbers. As Peter Dreyer, author of MARTYRS AND FANATICS…. puts it, “the Khoi were reduced to a landless proletariat – labourers or vagrants on the land of their ancestors.”
The colonial settlers having now subjugated the Khoi Africans and dispossessed them of their land employed them as labourers on their own robbed farmland. They paid them with food, old clothing and alcohol. The liquor is said to have been ‘’hot-ten-tots” a month – hence the new colonial name “Hottentots” for the Khoi people.
Animosity Between The Khoisan And Other Africans Is Colonial Fabrication
Another false theory that colonialists and their historians have propagated is that there was deep hatred between the Khoisan Africans and other Africans in Azania. As indicated earlier in this discussion, King Witbooi, one of the Khoi kings, dismissed this colonial fallacy. Historian Shula Marks has written, “Contrary to much of the mythology which dwells on the inveterate hatred between them…there is much archaeological as well as linguist record of long peaceful interaction between them. The clicks characteristic of the Southern Bantu languages, that are characteristic of the South Eastern Bantu languages, that are unique to this family, also speak of a long and intimate relationship between Khoisan and Bantu-speakers. Oral tradition in many areas recalls the intermarriage even of Bantu-speaking people with Khoisan women. Chief Molhebangwe (sic) of the southernmost Tswana people, the Tlhaping – his mother was a Khoi.”
In fact, a Mofokeng King married a San woman as his senior wife in 145O. Intermarriage between Xhosa-speaking Africans and Khoi Africans was so common that Amagqwashu, Amangqunukhwebe, Amacira and Amasukwini have been described by some historians as half-Xhosa and half-Khoi (Peter Dreyer author of MARTYS AND FANATICS page 81).These people spoke of their women as “Amalawukazi ampundu zibomvu” (The Khoi women who have fair red buttocks).
King Moshoeshoe of the Basotho was among Kings who married San women. Their names were Rosaleng also known as Qea and Motseola known as Seqha.
Loss of Land To Colonialists Is Loss Of Sovereignty, Resources And Nationality
The historical fact is that the colonialists exterminated the Khoisan Africans. Loss of land results in loss of national sovereignty, nationhood and wealth of its people. The national tragedy of losing one’s land was highlighted by Eta when the Khoi African King Adam Kok III died on 30 December 1875. In a moving funeral oration, Eta, the king’s cousin told the Khoi people rather prophetically: “We have laid in the grave a man you all knew and loved. He is the last king of our people. After him there will be no Khoi African in South Africa….Take a look into that grave. You will never look into the face of another king of our people. Do you realise that your nationality is buried there?”
When the Pieter Mulders, the Hendrick Verwoerds, the Eric Louws and their historians talk of “empty land” when colonialists arrived in Azania, they provoke very deep emotions in the hearts of the African people who were dispossessed of their land at gunpoint and are still dispossessed – hence the rampant poverty among them, whether they be Zulu Africans or Khoi Africans.
Prof. James H. Evans of the Faculty of Colgate Rochester Divinity College in America has asked, “Why does the white myth of South Africa differ widely from reality?” He hits the nail on the head when he says, “The answer to this question in part, is that the invaders found it necessary to justify historically, their invasion of a large portion of a black continent. By controlling the history of the region, they could control its inhabitants…the sole aim of which is to keep the Black majority in slavery.”
By Dr. Motsoko Pheko
(The writer is author of several books such as The Hidden Side Of South African Politics and How The Freedom Charter Betrayed The Dispossessed. He is a former Member of the South African Parliament and a former Representative of the victims of apartheid at the United Nations in New York as well as at the UN Commission On Human Rights in Geneva)
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Posted in Black History, general, oppressed
Tagged Africa, African people, Azania, Jan van Riebeeck, Khoi African, Motsoko Pheko, Pieter Mulder, South Africa, Western Cape | [2] Comments