NO EASY WALK
AFTER FREEDOM: THE CAPE TOWN INTERNATIONAL JAZZ
FESTIVAL AND THE PROMISE OF DEMOCRACY IN THE NEW SOUTH AFRICA
Norman Provizer
On April 27, 1994, South Africa took a momentous step
in its long walk to freedom. It was step filled with significance not only for
that nation but for the wider world as well. As such, it was more than a step
out of the long shadow cast by apartheid and oppression. It was also a step
toward the promise of reconciliation and inclusive democracy, achieved
ultimately through a negotiated “quiet revolution.”
No one has come to represent this rare “quiet revolution”
more than the towering figure of Nelson Mandela
who spent more than a quarter of a
century as a political prisoner before emerging as the first president of the
new South Africa.
Speaking from a balcony at the city hall in Cape Town before his inauguration, Mandela
noted the sharp polarization of his society and the country’s need “to identify
the values we share as a nation and respect those of others.” The search for
those values was very much in mind when I attended the 2005 Cape Town
International Jazz Festival courtesy of the South African Tourism.
“During the worst years of repression,” Mandela commented
three years after his release from prison in 1990, “it was the arts that
articulated the plight and democratic aspirations of our people.”
In the process of that
articulation, the nation developed a rich musical heritage and one deeply connected
to the jazz tradition – a tradition often seen as a metaphor for liberation and
freedom. As the documentary Amandla so well
highlights, South Africa
carried out “a revolution in four-part harmony.”
The two-day event in Cape
Town brought some 20,000 people to the five venues
located in the city’s impressive convention center. This was the first year
that the festival was completely on its own after a five-year association with
the North Sea Jazz Festival in the Netherlands. And musically, the
event combined well-known jazz groups (the Dave Holland Quintet, the Yellowjackets and the Ravi
Coltrane Quartet) with several less-known international players (Cuban pianist
Ramon Valle, Danish saxophonist Yuri Honig, Swedish
pianist Bobo Stenson and
Baku-born pianist Amina Figarova)
and a multitude of South African performers (representing all facets of the
South African sound). For good measure, Roberta Flack and the Commodores were
also on hand, serving as a reminder that musical nostalgia can, indeed, be
universal.
While there were many musical highlights during the two
nights (especially my first exposure to Simphiwe
Dana, a South African singer with the voice, songs and stage presence to become
a major international star), I frequently found myself just observing the
audience in the various venues. Anyone with even a passing knowledge of South Africa
under the rigid separation of apartheid had to be captivated by the festival
scene that included every shade of the color spectrum that characterizes this
land of diversity. If you desire a picture reflecting the promise of
reconciliation and inclusiveness emerging from turmoil, then nothing would do
it better than a snapshot taken at the Cape Town International Jazz Festival.
Of course, that snapshot would not provide a complete
portrait of a nation still in transition. Mandela called his autobiography Long
Walk to Freedom and South
Africa still has a long walk to take after
freedom to realize the full measure of its promise.
The challenges ahead, as former
president Mandela strongly recognized, are daunting. Poverty in the country
remains conservatively estimated at just under 50 per
cent of the country’s 45,000,000 people; and the distribution of poverty there
(like in the United States)
reflects the legacy of oppression and discrimination. While under 5 per cent of
the Whites, who make up not quite 10 per cent of the total population, fall
below the poverty line, 60 per cent of the majority Black population (79 per
cent of the total population) are below that line. For the category of people
long categorized as Coloureds (9 per cent of the
population), the poverty rate is 20 per cent. For Asians (2.5 per cent of the
population), the rate is just over 5 per cent.
Along with the pressing, difficult and explosive problems
concerning the distribution of wealth, land, education and housing across the
racial divide, the nation also faced the disaster of HIV/AIDS and a serious
wave of crime and violence in the years following the emergence of majority
rule. Despite the efforts to build “a ‘rainbow nation’ at peace with itself and
the world” (in Mandela’s words), conflicts among the variously colored pieces
of that nation were all too real, as was the carnage generated by those
conflicts that transcended any simple Black/White divide.
Still, compared to the widespread expectations of
retribution and collapse, the face of the new South Africa is indeed impressive.
Though critics find flaws in the prudence and gradualism mandated by the
negotiated settlement of the revolution, especially in terms of economic power,
there is much to be said for following a path that maintains, rather than
demolishes, the nation’s imposing infrastructure – an infrastructure that
represents 36 per cent of the total Gross Domestic Product generated by the
entire African continent.
There are critics, as well, of South Africa’s “truth and
reconciliation” approach to the crimes of apartheid, claiming that truth and
reconciliation do not met the requirements of justice. But then, of course,
there are always those who believe that justice must be done even if the world
is destroyed in the process.
South Africa, today, stands as a
world well worth saving. While attention is drawn to other parts of the globe,
it is, perhaps, in South
Africa that the most noble and inspiring
experiment in true democracy is taking place. As even critics have pointed out,
“the attainment of a liberal democratic dispensation in the land of apartheid
was one of the most significant events of the twentieth century.” And the growth
of that dispensation in the twenty-first century has implications and meaning
for us all.
In a “Foreword” to a book marking Mandela’s 85th
birthday, United Nations Secretary General Kofi Annan writes, “People often ask me what difference one
person can make in the face of injustice, conflict, human rights violations,
mass poverty and disease. I answer by citing the courage, tenacity, dignity and
magnanimity of Nelson Mandela.” Though a society is certainly much more than
any individual, the sight of what courage, tenacity, dignity and magnanimity
can achieve is one of the wonders of the modern world. In order to see that
wonder, along with hearing some great music, moving across seven time zones,
during a 17-hour flight from New York,
was a small price to pay.
Norman Provizer has a Ph.D. from
the University of
Pennsylvania. He is the
director of the Golda
Meir Center for Political Leadership and a
professor of Political Science at Metropolitan State College of Denver. Additionally, he is the jazz critic for the Rocky
Mountain News, a jazz commentator on KUVO-FM (a National Public Radio station
in Denver), a
contributing writer for Down Beat magazine and a former columnist for Jazziz magazine. Photos by Norman Provizer.