Plays such as Sophiatown, pictured, by Malcolm Purkey and Pippa Stein, preserve not only the memory of the places but allow the audiences to engage with our South African history, says the writer.
Motsaathebe Serekoane
Thirty years into democracy, the issues related to heritage resources in public spaces continue to pose a challenge in defining our collective cultural identity and building a nation united in diversity.
It might be time to move forward from the heritage narrative shaped by the colonial and apartheid eras to embrace the stories of the past three decades of democracy. After all, there are always two sides to every story.
First, it is important to review the concept of heritage since the Venice Charter was adopted in 1964.
There have been numerous conservation guidelines in the form of charters, recommendations and resolutions introduced and adopted by international heritage bodies such as the UN Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (Unesco) and the International Council on Monuments and Sites, a professional association that works for the conservation and protection of cultural heritage places across the world.
The National Monuments Act of 1969 was the first legislation introduced after the Venice Charter was adopted. However, this does not diminish the impact of memorialisation practices under the Natural and Historical Monument Relics and Antiques Act of 1923. What it did was solidify biased documentation of history and perpetuate an oppressive and exclusive national heritage narrative.
The dominant narrative categories across the country are composed of cultural, historical, architectural and material legacies left by colonial and apartheid powers in the regions and territories they controlled.
This is essentially because of the colonial perception that heritage was physical, effectively tangible.
The adoption of the Constitution in 1996 was one of the turning points in the history of the Struggle for democracy. Its preamble advances a belief that South Africa belongs to all who live in it, the division of the past must be healed and a society based on democratic values, social justice and fundamental rights must be established. To advance the ideals in 1999, the president approved the Heritage Resources Act.
The legislation aims to promote good management of the national estate and enable and encourage communities to nurture and conserve. Our heritage is unique and precious and cannot be renewed. It helps us define our cultural identity and, therefore, lies at the heart of our spiritual well-being and has the power to build our nation.
The advanced view is that the statues, place names and other forms of symbolism in public spaces need to be reviewed in line with the values and spirit of a non-racial, democratic and inclusive South Africa. The conversation on this matter is complicated, as shown by the events of 2015 – #FeesMustFall and StatuesMustFall protests – and will probably continue in the future.
Despite the challenges, we have made progress and achieved a lot. It is not easy to traverse the layered complexity inherent in matters of heritage and public memory, but it provides an excellent space for critical engagement, conversations and dialogue.
After all, in line with Nigerian writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, we can’t tell the South African story and start with “secondly”.
As we pursue the goal of acknowledging and honouring stories that are often overlooked, instead of choosing to erase them, we have the opportunity to present an alternate viewpoint, fill in the gaps and make corrections.
This allows us to move beyond simply preserving physical, tangible heritage but also celebrating the intangible aspects, thus promoting the concept of living heritage, a practice unique to African traditions of documenting and storytelling.
Living heritage emphasises a connection between the past, present and future. It includes the continuity of a heritage site’s original function, which speaks to the purpose for which the site was intended, but can be repurposed to form part of the future narrative.
Another factor is continuity of care, which speaks to the ways in which communities take care of their heritage.
Robben Island tells the story of incarceration but also of hope. The Castle of Good Hope, built between 1666 and 1679, known as the oldest surviving building in South Africa, is reconfigured to embody a story of joy, pain, tears, laughter, disappointment, fear, hope – and all the other human emotions that characterise us as a nation.
The alternate viewpoint can shed light on untold stories and narratives that were intentionally omitted or silenced. The other side of the coin is through storytelling, musicals and theatre. Through performances that evoke discussion and provide context to the past and present, theatre provides a space of engagement where stories and collective memories are enacted, drawing audiences in for the experience.
Plays such as Sophiatown by Malcolm Purkey and Pippa Stein and District Six: The Musical by Taliep Peterson and David Kramer preserve not only the memory of the places but also allow the audiences to engage with history.
With a blend of music, dance and song, drama and theatre can weave together a story that audiences can identify with. Theatre in South Africa, therefore, serves a function of storytelling, identity and collective memory embodying living heritage.
In addition to the techniques above, two books that add to the other side of the coin are worth mentioning.
The Lie of 1652: A decolonised history of land, published in 2020, and The Truth about Cape Slavery: the foundations of colonial South Africa, published in 2024, were written by Patric Tariq Mellet, a renowned historian and heritage expert.
The publications aim to record and correct a distorted history. There are other stories, many stories, powerful stories that need to be told and recorded. There are sites of memories in our neighbourhoods that need to be recognised for the role they played in South African history.
There are individuals and groups of people we need to honour. Let us all contribute to broadening our heritage narrative. The argument is towards inclusivity, to flip the inherited heritage side of the coin that will have the courage to disrupt homogeneity and advance heterogeneity in pursuit of establishing the alternative memory where two sides of the heritage narrative coin intersect, influence each other and hybridise in pursuit of dialogic engagements and transformative output.
Serekoane is with the Department of Anthropology at the University of the Free State
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