Documente Academic
Documente Profesional
Documente Cultură
INTRODUCTION
Afrikaans (noun)
Afrikaner (noun)
ANC (proper noun)
Apartheid (noun)
Boer (noun, adjective)
Boer Wars (proper noun)
Born frees (noun, plural)
Colony (noun)
Defiance of Unjust Laws Campaign (proper noun)
Dompass (noun)
Frederik Willem de Klerk (proper noun)
Great Trek (proper noun)
Hendrik Frensch Verwoerd (proper noun)
Homelands (noun, plural)
Hottentot (noun)
Jo'Burg (proper noun)
Jozi (proper noun)
Kaffir (noun)
Nasionale Party (proper noun)
Nelson Mandela (proper noun)
Passbook (noun)
Rainbow Nation (proper noun)
Rand (noun)
Sharpeville (proper noun)
Soweto (proper noun)
Springboks (proper noun, plural)
Township (noun)
Tsotsi (noun)
Zef (noun, adjective)
Dec. 9, 2013
OHANNESBURG (AP) - My mother was furious. The operators of the gas
J
rural landligt
indomitable ukuelige
bawled skralede
station in rural, racist South Africa had taken her money to fill the car, but
decrepit faldefrerdige would not give her the key to the toilets. They were for whites only.
mauve lyslilla
stock herkomst It was the early 1960s, and apartheid was the law of the land.
So my indomitable mum did the only thing she could do: She ordered
me and my two sisters to urinate right there, very publicly, in front of the
fuel pumps.
We did not disobey, but I started crying - and my sisters bawled, too.
We lowered our shorts, but I was so traumatized that I simply could not go.
My widowed mother, Ethel Pillay, had driven us from our home in
Zimbabwe, which was then called Rhodesia, to visit family in her native
South Africa.
There was racism in Rhodesia, too, but it was nothing like the
institutionalized code in South Africa that made blacks subhuman - the
system that Nelson Mandela later fought to bring down.
We had been on the road for more than 15 hours that day. We were
taking the car because the train ride was difficult for a woman with three
children and lots of baggage.
The train also was an uncomfortable ride for blacks: Halfway through
the trip, in the middle of the night, they would have to get out of the
Rhodesian Railways compartments and transfer to decrepit blacks-only
South African carriages.
' T!!SlG,!_C9UlfIL 9F lkf C!
The car trip presented its own challenges. Hotels catered only to whites,
WHITE AR so the drive needed to be nonstop. We also had to carry piles of food and
DI MDHINGSRUO VAN DIE k'AJ.P
AJ<E QJ drinks because my mother refused to go to the back door of shops; only
whites were allowed inside the stores.
In those days, of course, we didn't say "blacks" and "whites:' Black
people were called ''.Africans;' we were "colored" to designate our mixed race,
and whites were called "Europeans:'
Sometimes those lines got blurred. South Africa had a crazy system of
deciding your race, including whether the moons of your fingernails were a
Signs like these
were a common bit more mauve than white, indicating a hint of black blood. There also was
sight throughout
South Africa during
the test of whether a pencil would stay in your hair, indicating it must be of
apartheid. kinky black stock. If the pencil slid through, you could be considered white.
During apartheid blacks in urban areas were relegated to living in underdeveloped townships.
In Cradock, a South African town in the eastern Cape where she entrench forankre
reconciliation
was living when apartheid was legalized in 1948, my English-speaking forsoning
retribution
mother struggled with her studies after new laws sought to entrench white gengaeldelse
superiority through the Afrikaans language. Once, she was "locked into my ordained ordineret
4) Comment on the notion that racism in South Africa was something that is
"imbibed unconsciously".
I've snapped on the bedside light and slap and scratch at myself, reach
myopically for my glasses and search the bedclothes in terror, wondering
what a bedbug will look like when I see it, and will I be able to handle it?
Look around the little room. My cousin's bedroom, my first night here in
deep Soweto, the room much smaller now in the sharp, unromantic focus
of the small hours.
This is Soweto, boy, where you ran away from. The walls are yellow and sooty.
Things are packed in cardboard boxes alongside and on top of the shabby old
wardrobe, the tiny desk is useless as a desk, it is a bedside table and store
-cupboard, the government has built hovels for the people, and the people
are trapped in them, shoulder to shoulder, step out of your front door and
how can you avoid seeing your neighbour knifing her husband in the gloom
of her stoep because she's gone crazy, or Sherry in the broad daylight of that
very afternoon being chased down the street by must-be a hundred Busbies,
grinning and waving sticks in anticipation of a little variation in this cruel
life, all wanting to take part in corrective, instant punishment of Sherry, 'cos
she, this middle-aged seventeen-year-old, had the audacity to leave her two
year-old and the baby with her ninety year-old father who's a drunk, alone
and without food and milk from her horrified breasts for three whole days,
looking to fit some fun into the weekend and make it last a little longer.
Here's Sherry running barefoot past my cousin's stoep, and the 'community;
from four to sixty, running hopefully after her with sticks.
They corner her down in the spruit, where Mr Snit, the municipal
policeman, found that snake in '59 and couldn't resist bringing it all the
way up the hill in a sack to terrorise us kids playing in the yard of my
grandmother's creche where we used to while away our useless, childish
hours. The creche is still there, on the corner over Mlamlankhunzi, just as I
Flash forward to this afternoon. The dust rises from around the spruit as they
lay into Sherry. They finally caught her and are telling her what's what, no
matter how bad they all are.
This must have been a beautiful landscape, once, until they discovered the
gold. The piles of mine dumps, left there for the township to crouch around,
the white man's dirt abandoned where he decided he was finished with it,
the skeletons of mine headgear rusting over sucked-out shafts where the
coloureds can fall in if they want to, I've got work to do ...
That was all earlier in the day. Now the house is sleeping. In the quiet house I
am alone with invisible bedbugs. I scratch and slap my skin, hoping someone
will wake up and come and keep me company. Nothing.
Prepare for sleep again. Just drawing the sheet up to my chin, gingerly, when,
damn me, if the fattest thing, big and brown like a two-cent coin, doesn't come
marching out of the folds of my cousin's blanket and stride straight towards
my face. I haven't even switched off the light. I am shocked. It's so fucking big.
Stamping across the white sheets, out of nowhere, fearing nothing.
I clap the sheet hard. Hold it, breathing heavily. How do you kill a bedbug?
An axe? I open the fold a crack. There he is still, squirming. Released, he
starts marching again, straight for my jugular. I squeeze the sheet tight, twist
it, grind, dig my fingernails into the patch where he is, in there where I can't
see his ugly township mug and don't want to. Me and him, the same.
Fearfully, gingerly, release my grip. Peer into the folds, my knuckles white. My Casey Motsitsi
blood seeps out of him and his mangled body, smearing the sheet. And that
sydafrikansk
novelleforfatter og
terrible, sweet smell they always said bedbugs give off when you squash them. journalist
indaba konference
(Bantu)
Peter Rezant
He's dead. I look around the room. Why? This has all already been written by sydafrikansk
guys like Casey Motsitsi. Why do I have to go through it in person? jazzmusiker
Thixo and Somandla
afrikanske guder
commuoalism
Didn't sleep any more. frellesskabsfolelse
i forhold ti! egen
etniske gruppe
Groggy for the big indaba planned for the next day. Indaba of very old Nadine Gordimer
sydafrikansk
people, here in my cousin's house, singing hymns for me. The legendary forfatter og politisk
Peter Rezant at my side on the broken sofa, telling me tales about people aktivist
Rian Malan
from way back. Can you believe it? A wonderful prayer in Xhosa from sydafrikansk
forfatter, journalist
tall, rumpled Uncle Nick, thanking Thixo and Somandla for my return to og dokumentarist
the land of my ancestors. Food, food, food, beer. The girls in the kitchen haikona, jong! Du kan
fandeme tro nej!
with all their children. How can these children tell whom they belong to? (afrikaans)
I swear I am not going to sleep another night in that bed. If Gideon doesn't
show up to rescue me like he promised, I'll phone Nadine Gordimer, Rian
Malan, anyone from the other side in comforting, white-white Johannesburg,
just to be able to lie down in the manner to which I have become accustomed.
Soweto? Haikona, jong!
(2002)
While conditions
have improved in
Soweto, the area is
still underdeveloped
compaired to
Johannesburg proper.
ohannesburg - South Africa has a wide research regarding the origin of scramble pastyr I
2) Make an outline of the different opinions about zef represented in the text.
3) How is the new zef different from the zef of the 1980's?
4) Look the glossary given at the end of the text. What do the words that zef
has slang terms for say about the culture?
ching penge (afrikaans, Yo, Hi-Tek, you think you could fuck with something like this?
zef)
wat se Suid-Africa?
hvad siger du, Sydafrika? (Beatboxing)
(Afrikaans)
suig me fokken piel
sut min fucking pik
(afrikaans) Don't you mean something like this?
bier kom ek weer
her kommer jeg igen
(afrikaans) Yeah, that's perf. Yo-Landi, do that thing.
lekker trekker
(afrikaans)
sies ordlyd der Eh Fatty Boom Boom
udtrykker skuffelse
og afsky (afrikaans) Hit me with the ching-ching
Not fokken thinking, dolla eye twinkling
Just a bit of junkie,
Let's not get too funky
Ohh ohhh ooh ohh
I'm a upper
Dwangies get buffed like a sucka
Baka baka
Yippie-ki-yay motherfucker!
I'm a big deal (wiv de seen my niggas rollin' me)?
Now I'm having so much fun l can't even go to sleep
Yo-Landi!
What?
Where you at?
Here I am!
Spitting fokken lyrics like barn barn barn!
Make it rough
We drop the type of beats that make you shut the fuck up and
dance
We drop the type of beats so good you're fuckin' stuck in a trance
In the overseas they like to say you're stuck in a trance
We drop the type of beats that make you fuckin' cum in your
pants
Jesus
(2012)
ANALYSIS (2):
Watch the music videos for Dis lz Why I'm Hot and Fatty Boom Boom on
Youtube before answering the following questions:
Yo-Landi Vi$$er in the music video for the song Fatty Boom Boom.
gynaecologist and gives birth to a accentuate her black body paint. opening act
opva,mningsband
cockroach, which South Africans, These shots alternate with images of accentuate fremhaeve,
specifically Johannesburg residents, Ninja, Yolandi and their dancers in invocation
frembringelse
link connotatively to its nickname, white body paint and then in black. coon carnival
traditionelt
Parktown Prawn - a reference to the sydafrikansk
alien "prawns" in South African sci How do we read Yolandi's blackened karneval med
tradition for hvide
ti movie, District 9. Finally, "Gaga" body? How do we read their malet som sorte
2) What is the significance of the artist referring to Ninja by his birth name,
Waddy Jones, throughout the text while at same time referring to Lady Gaga
by her artist name?
3) Comment on Adam Haupt's views on the video for Fatty Boom Boom.
a. What about the video does he like? Why?
b. What about the video does he dislike? Why?
4) "God made a mistake with me. I'm actually black, trapped in a white body".
Comment on this.
DISCUSSION:
Does Adam Haupt have a valid point regarding the cultural appropriation of Die
Antwoord? Discuss with the person sitting next to you.
LANGUAGE ANALYSIS:
Characterize the stylistics of Adam Haupt's language in this article.