Oppenheim 1 Zach Oppenheim Ethnomusicology BA University of Washington 12 th June 2015 Tracks and Reconciliation: Afrikaner Identity through Alternative Music In America and much of South African society, Afrikaners and their language are immediately synonymous with Apartheid and oppression. Conversely, Afrikaners are often intensely proud of their nation, language, and heritage. Yet for an increasing number of young, White Afrikaans speakers, their response to the divisive history of their language is neither shame nor a defensive stand from the laager (wagon circle). Rather, these young citizens strive for an alternative path within South African society where they can be both proud of their heritage and adaptive, attentive members of this exceptionally diverse country. Perhaps the most effective means of reintegration in effect at the moment is the production of music in Afrikaans, especially what could broadly be considered “alternative music”. This alternative music has gained significant popularity not just among young Afrikaners but in the greater South African (ZA) society as well, begging the question as to why so many young South Africans, both Afrikaner and not, are gravitating towards music being sung in a language with such a polarizing legacy? It is through the production and consumption of this Afrikaans alternative music that young Afrikaners are not only redefining their own identities, but the ways in which they and the Afrikaans language are identified within the greater society of South Africa.
Transcript
Oppenheim 1
Zach Oppenheim
Ethnomusicology BA
University of Washington
12th June 2015
Tracks and Reconciliation: Afrikaner Identity through Alternative Music
In America and much of South African society, Afrikaners and their language are
immediately synonymous with Apartheid and oppression. Conversely, Afrikaners are often
intensely proud of their nation, language, and heritage. Yet for an increasing number of
young, White Afrikaans speakers, their response to the divisive history of their language is
neither shame nor a defensive stand from the laager (wagon circle). Rather, these young
citizens strive for an alternative path within South African society where they can be both
proud of their heritage and adaptive, attentive members of this exceptionally diverse
country. Perhaps the most effective means of reintegration in effect at the moment is the
production of music in Afrikaans, especially what could broadly be considered “alternative
music”. This alternative music has gained significant popularity not just among young
Afrikaners but in the greater South African (ZA) society as well, begging the question as to
why so many young South Africans, both Afrikaner and not, are gravitating towards music
being sung in a language with such a polarizing legacy? It is through the production and
consumption of this Afrikaans alternative music that young Afrikaners are not only
redefining their own identities, but the ways in which they and the Afrikaans language are
identified within the greater society of South Africa.
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In order to assess the impact and extent of Afrikaans Alternative music, as well as
the cultural identities that accompany it, I distributed a series of questionnaires among the
networks I constructed during my time in ZA. These questionnaires consisted of a series of
questions designed to establish several things: the participant’s own ethnic/cultural
background, the participants personal identity within South African society, and the
participants relationship with the Afrikaans language. From here, my questions explore
personal feelings towards Afrikaners, consumption of Afrikaans language media (including
music), and cross-‐cultural interactions. For informants who are Afrikaans speakers, I focus
on their personal identity and how they position themselves with what may be broadly
considered the “Afrikaner Community”. If my informants are non-‐Afrikaner, I attempt to
explore their preconceptions about Afrikaners, as well as the impact Afrikaans music has
had on their personal relationship with Afrikaans.
While the focus of this paper is not primarily historical, a quick primer may prove
helpful for American readers who are less familiar with South African history, as well as a
discussion of terminology. An Afrikaner here is taken to mean a White South African who
primarily speaks Afrikaans at home. Generally descended from Dutch settlers, as well as a
smattering of other Europeans (e.g. French Huguenots), Afrikaners began colonizing South
Africa earnestly in 1652 with the establishment of Cape Town. Originally a Dutch colony,
the Western Cape was taken under British rule in 1815. This, among other factors,
contributed to the Great Trek in 1836, a mass migration of Afrikaans settlers from the
Western Cape to the interior of the continent, settling across Southern Africa (ZA, Namibia,
Zimbabwe). These migratory peoples adopted the moniker of Boers, and established a
number of independent Boer republics, which through annexation or war were brought
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under British rule by the start of the 20th century. The 2nd Boer war in particular turned
into a brutal Guerilla conflict, with the British employing scorched earth and mass
internment tactics, resulting in almost 30,000 Boer civilians perishing. From this blend of
self-‐determination, defiance, and armed conflict rose an Afrikaner, and particularly Boer
sense of nationalism, and the belief that Afrikaners were the rightful owners of the lands
they occupied, as well as the rightful rulers of South Africa. It was through the actions of
Afrikaner nationalists that the narrative of the greater “Afrikaner Community” or
“Afrikaner Nation” was brought into being 1.
It was on the back of Afrikaner Nationalism that in 1948 South Africa elected Daniel
François Malan as Prime Minister-‐ marking the beginning of Apartheid, a system of
institutionalized racial discrimination and oppression. An Afrikaans word meaning,
“separateness”, the Apartheid system saw the ruling Afrikaner party oppress the majority
of South Africans in order to maintain their own rule and supposed superiority. One of the
most contentious issues during apartheid was the use of the Afrikaans language as a tool of
oppression. While 13.5% of South Africans speak Afrikaans as their primary language,
including 60.8% of Whites and 75.8% of Coloureds, only 1.5% of Black South Africans
speak Afrikaans as a primary language2. Both English and Afrikaans are Germanic
languages, but mutual intelligibility is negligible. Even with having assimilated a variety of
local lexicon, this Dutch daughter language is completely different from the Bantu based
languages spoken by the vast majority of South Africans. Despite this, the de facto language
of government and administration during apartheid was Afrikaans.
Fully understanding how Afrikaans transformed into “the language of the
oppressor” (Questionnaire: N.S.) is a complex subject worthy of intensive research.
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However, for a single exemplary case one need merely look at the Afrikaans Medium
Decree of 1974. Under apartheid, Blacks went to a separate school system that was
controlled by the Ministry of Bantu Education, who in 1974 decided, “for the sake of
uniformity English and Afrikaans will be used as media of instruction in our schools on a
50-‐50 basis as follows…2.2 Afrikaans medium: Mathematics, Arithmetic, Social Studies”3. In
effect, this decreed that black students from grade seven onwards would be forced to learn
math, arithmetic, and social studies solely in Afrikaans, a language few, if any of them, were
proficient in. Anger over this decree led directly to the 1976 Soweto uprising, and is largely
responsible to this day for the negative connotations that Afrikaans carries among Black
communities in South Africa.
Despite the horrors of apartheid and the single-‐party system with its immense
pressure to conform, a few individuals dared to break from the party line. The most notable
musically was Johannes Kerkorrel en die Gereformeerde Blues Band, whose pioneering
Voëlfry movement not only started alternative Afrikaans music, but brought an anti-‐
authoritarian and liberal Afrikaans voice to the Afrikaner youth during the last years of
Apartheid4. Despite a hiatus during the 1990s, the Afrikaans Alternative movement started
by Kerkorrel returned with gusto in 2004 and the debut of Fokofpolisiekar
(Fuckoffpolicecar), who opened the floodgates to a number of Afrikaans artists creating
and performing music in genres ranging from metal to hip hop. Artists like Bittereinder and
Jack Parow routinely top the SA charts, and rap-‐rave duo Die Antwoord has even found
significant international recognition. Again, with the decidedly mixed legacy of Afrikaans,
one must ask why music in that language is suddenly so popular across much of South
Africa?
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While my questionnaires have produced a variety of interesting data, there are
some noted limitations. Within the format, follow-‐up questions are difficult. Additionally,
questions must be written carefully and often overlap significantly in order to thoroughly
cover important aspects, which may appear repetitive to informants. However, by far the
biggest problem I have encountered is one of distribution. While my networks in South
Africa have been able to provide a number of responses, including access to several
musicians within the Alternative Afrikaans scene, my overall number of responses has been
relatively low, which makes extrapolation difficult. Informants also tend to be young,
liberal Afrikaners or Anglos, the groups I had the most contact with in South Africa.
Because of this, I do not have a clear picture of the impact Afrikaans Alternative has within
the Black communities or voices from the more conservative White communities. Yet the
responses I have received can still provide valuable insight into the lives and identities of
young South Africans.
In order to better understand the Afrikaners my informants represent, it may be
useful to examine a questionnaire reproduced in its entirety. These following responses are
from a man who is actively involved with the production of the Oppikoppi, a large annual
music festival that has traditionally been a venue for Alternative Afrikaans music. While his
answers are far from a homogenous voice for the Alternative Afrikaner community, he
highlights a number of trends that I have seen develop prominently across a number of
informants. Additionally, the areas where he differs from my general informant population,
such as the violence of his opposition to Apartheid or his linguistic diversity, can provide
great insight into the diversity that exists even within the Alternative community:
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What is your name and current place of residence?
C. G., [redacted], Western Cape, South Africa
Where were you born? Raised?
Born in [redacted], Mpumalanga, South Africa. Raised in various cities as my father
was a district surgeon and later studied again, causing us to move around
between various places
What is the primary language that you spoke growing up? In your daily life today?
At home today?
Afrikaans growing up, Afrikaans at home now, Afrikaans, English, Spanish, Dutch
and Tswana in daily life.
If you were born before 1994, what was your racial designation under apartheid?
Born 196X, White.
How do you self identify within South African society?
I identify with the modern-‐thinking Afrikaner. I do NOT identify with the grouping
of old-‐thinking Afrikaners that still cling to the past and hate the change
that has taken place in SA.
What are your personal feelings towards the actions of the South African
government and society during apartheid?
Disgust, that I showed openly during that time. I was arrested twice during protests
that I participated in, as a member of the then ECC (End Conscription
Campaign, to stop forced military service of white male South Africans), and
also when I joined a riot at University Cape Town.
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I was specifically against the practices of segregated town areas, the ‘Bantu’
education curriculum that was engineered to dumb down blacks (example
mathematics where division sums were all but removed from the
curriculum, I believe aimed at holding back black citizens from doing
business, where percentages (divisions) are crucial.)
Who do you believe to be responsible for apartheid?
The British Colonial system, and their ‘pioneers’ like Cecil John Rhodes etc, which
was taken further and written into law by the Afrikaner government, which
was elected by an unfair system that excluded black South Africans from
voting.
What are your personal feelings towards the Afrikaner community in South Africa?
Clearly split in 2 groupings.
1. Brown (Coloured) South Africans that speak Afrikaans, and the modern
thinking White Afrikaners who welcome change into a real democracy.
These are good people that I align with proudly.
2. Old-‐style Afrikaners who still monger hate and sit on the sideline looking
for anything worthy of their criticism of the new black government. This
grouping has a warped belief that they deserved the unfair system of
before, as they are supreme by decree of their skin colour. I welcome the
fact that this grouping is getting smaller by the day.
What is your personal relationship and feelings towards the Afrikaans language?
A very young language, already developed into a language rich in expression. I am
proud to speak Afrikaans in its modern form. Freely mixed with other
languages like English, zulu, tswana etc.
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What is your relationship with the non-‐Afrikaans speaking communities in South
Africa? Do you have consistent contact with any specific groups (anglos,
Zulu, ect)?
I have consistent contact with Tswana friends. The older people all speak Afrikaans
regularly (they were all forced to speak it at school), but the youth do not
like to speak it, as they see it as a language of oppression.
Has your identity as an Afrikaner or Afrikaans speaker ever significantly affected
preconceptions or reactions to you, regardless of your personal interactions
with that person (ie, prejudice, hostility, instant trust and acceptance)? Feel
free to include any personal narratives you see fit, of either positive or
negative interactions.
It has happened that people react negatively to me speaking Afrikaans, which I
totally understand. In such cases I smoothly switch to English, which is then
met with respect and appreciation. I try to speak Tswana where possible,
which gets a very positive reaction from Tswana speaking people.
What is the music you listened to while growing up? Was it produced in South Africa
or imported? What language was it in?
My parents tried to force me to listen to Afrikaans music, which at the time
consisted mainly of dumb lyrics that had been superimposed onto stolen
melodies from other countries.
I listened to Tswana and Zulu musicians and other African music that I could get
hold of. I also listened to a lot of international music, mostly with rebellious
style lyrics (anti-‐establishment) like The Doors, Dylan, U2 etc.
When Afrikaans music went through the liberation of the ‘Voëlvry’ movement, I
again re-‐aligned with that as ‘my’ music. I have been supporting Afrikaans-‐
lyrics music since then in various genres of my choice (rock, blues, folk,
country, punk etc)
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What is the primary music you listen to now? Is it South African or foreign?
Language?
I listen to South African music daily, and I also listen to British, American, European
music daily.
Do you consider yourself a consumer of Afrikaans language media, and specifically a
listener of Afrikaans language music?
No, not specifically. I disagree with the grouping of people that label Afrikaans as a
genre of music. Afrikaans media often irritates me, as it seems to mainly
aim itself at the mass-‐market (popular) and do not represent wide enough
opinion. It is also regularly spiced with religion, which is the biggest
irritation of the old-‐style thinking Afrikaners.
Do you consider the Afrikaans language music you consume to be mainstream or
alternative?
Alternative
Is the genre of Afrikaans language music you consume important to you?
Absolutely, the fact that it is written/performed in Afrikaans, is purely coincidental.
What are your personal feelings towards the Afrikaans language musicians you
listen to, especially any that you may consider alternative?
I am a massive fan of the good ones like Francois van Coke, Valiant Swart, Piet
Botha, Akkedis etc.
Do your personal feelings towards these Afrikaans alternative musicians differ from
your feelings towards the Afrikaans community in general? What about
their listeners?
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Yes it differs greatly sometimes. The mainstream Afrikaans grouping listen to stupid
music, with dumb lyrics and copied melodies. Most of the artists in this
grouping do not perform live music properly, they record backtracks and
often mime in front of a live audience.
Has your exposure to Afrikaans language media, and specifically music, shaped or
changed your feelings towards the Afrikaans language?
Yes it increases my disgust with conservative Afrikaners, who support idiot
musicians like Steve Hofmeyr etc.
Do you feel that your experience with Afrikaans alternative music has allowed you
to connect with non-‐Afrikaans speaking fans of the same music, or vice-‐
versa?
Yes, I’ve played Afrikaans rock and punk music to friends from Europe, who love the
music for the quality of musicianship. The language is important to get
behind the meaning of the lyrics, but does not affect their liking of the music
itself.
Has your experience with Afrikaans alternative music affected your interactions
with others in the Afrikaner community? If so, how? Feel free to include
narrative of positive or negative interactions.
I have had many disagreements with mainstream Afrikaners about the lack of
intelligence in the backtrack pop they listen to. It is usually futile to even try
to let them understand how stupid the music is, but it has its place and sells
well (sadly).
I have had a few such mainstream listeners that have changed their minds and
started listening to ‘real’ music in Afrikaans, with lyrics that are clever and
full of layers.
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I have specifically asked a lot of mainstream people why they like the song of a
mainstream backtrack artist. The answer I got made it clear for me that my
opinion of ‘dumb’ music was spot on. “That is such a good song, when I
heard it the very first time, I could already sing along to the chorus, it
speaks to me”. Idiot rhyming crap.
One of the most immediately striking aspects of C.G., and one that is shared by many
of my informants, is the breadth of languages that they use in their public sphere. While
most Afrikaners grew up and continue to predominantly speak Afrikaans at home, it
appears increasingly common that the more liberal Afrikaners will speak additional
languages in the public sphere. In light of my surveys being solely in English, some degree
of mastery in English is expected. Yet my informants appear to embrace English as a de
facto colloquial language within ZA, “I lived in Limpopo for 3 years, I worked very closely
with Tswana speaking folk. I tried to learn some words as well while I was there…but
luckily we could all understand English” (Questionnaire: R.V.). Rather than linguistic
limitations, this illustrates an ability and willingness to adapt to the realities of a situation;
meeting halfway rather than mandating everybody accommodate Afrikaans. C.G. goes a
step further in his professional life, incorporating Spanish, Dutch, and Tswana. The fact that
a successful and educated Afrikaner would learn and use Tswana, a purely black African
language, shows just how much it is possible to break down the barriers that existed during
Apartheid if one is willing.
An area where C.G. stands apart from the rest of my informants is the actions that
personally undertook during apartheid, facing arrest for his participation in an End
Conscription Campaign and rioting at the University of Cape Town. Worth noting is the fact
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the C.G. is significantly older than most of my informants: we can know nothing about their
hypothetical involvement in apartheid-‐era protests. Rather, C.G. shows that the anti-‐
establishment and liberal side of the Afrikaner community was alive and present in at least
the final years of Apartheid. This is the community that in the late 1980s produced the
Voëlvry movement, and provided fertile ground for its rebellious, anti-‐establishment
message. Yet for the majority of my informants, active resistance to Apartheid was either
culturally prevented because of social constraints or physically impossible due to age,
“There were no other parties to vote for at that stage. You either had a conservative choice,
or a VERY conservative choice, as voter. The ANC (African National Congress, Mandela’s
party and current majority party in ZA) those years was seen as a terrorist organization.
There were only white parties to vote for” (Questionnaire: J.J.S.). Only the most radically
liberal Afrikaners were willing to break away from the established system and challenge
Apartheid.
While the question of responsibility for Apartheid is one I shall not be directly
addressing, I find it illuminating to note where my informants, and particularly my
Afrikaner informants, place blame for the Apartheid years. C.G.’s own answer of Cecil
Rhodes is closely mirrored by a number of informants who finger the, “Colonial English”
(Questionnaire: F.B.) as the root perpetrators of Apartheid. This shows us several things
about the relationship between Apartheid and the Alternative Afrikaner community.
Firstly, these informants do not accept group blame for the actions of the apartheid
government. No informant has said, “we were responsible”, but rather blame has always
been placed on conservative and racist elements of the Boer community, or on the English
who previously governed the country. Common targets are “The Government” (J.J.S.) or
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“The White people in power at the time” (Questionnaire: R.L.), yet among my informants I
have seen only one Afrikaner place responsibility directly with their own community, even
for having produced the members of the government that was in power at the time. The
question of responsibility is a tricky one, as even those who despise the actions of the
apartheid government distance themselves from the Afrikaners responsible: “I think it was
atrocious and insane…I am not, however, ashamed, nor am I ever going to apologize,
because neither I nor my parents and my grandparents were/are “pro”-‐Apartheid”
(Questionnaire: A.V.). In a sense, this constitutes a manifestation of the schism within the
Afrikaner community: Apartheid and its government were a product of Afrikaner
Nationalism, xenophobia, and racism. It then stands to reason that those who are not part
of this traditional Afrikaner society do not share the burden of responsibility placed upon
its shoulders.
When speaking to creators and consumers of Afrikaans Alternative music, it
becomes clear that few identify with the traditional image of the Afrikaner and its
Broederbond (brotherhood) connotations. In the words of one musician, “I consider myself
as a white, Afrikaans speaking African, not really an Afrikaner. I suppose I am part of a
white tribe” (J.J.S.). In this we see a rejection of the traditional sense of Afrikaner
community and nationalism. Less concerned with their status among other Afrikaners,
these alternative musicians instead seek integration into the rest of South African society;
“I’d like to see myself as an Afrikaans-‐speaking South African who tries to embrace the
different cultures and peoples in SA” (A.V.), a clear break from the idea of a racially and
culturally superior Boer. The new cultural focus for progressive Afrikaners appears to be
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integrating and adapting to the society around them, rather than conserving the inherited
Boer traditions and identity.
A common theme among Alternative Afrikaners is that many of them feel a distinct
schism within the Afrikaner community: “Afrikaners are split into two groups: The younger
ones (like me) who just want to move on & away from the general ‘identity’ of the second
group ([old ZA flag (‘vierkleur’) on a bakkie’s bumper, two-‐tone shirts, brandy-‐and-‐Coke-‐
drinking overweight Boer, God-‐fearing, rugby fanatic, Kurt Darren and Steve Hofmeyr-‐
fan]). This second group should make peace with the fact that they’re in the minority and
will possibly never be ‘in charge’ again” (A.V.). For these young Afrikaners, adapting to
South African society means casting off the identity that has been built for them, a near-‐
complete rejection of all things Boer. In order to create their own distinct identity,
Alternative Afrikaners must first distance themselves from the Boer nation and the cultural
implications that come with it.
An interesting addendum to this question of modern Afrikaner identity is the
position of the Coloured Afrikaans community, especially in relation to the White Afrikaner
community. Worth noting for my American readers is the way “Coloured” in ZA differs from
its use in North America. Broadly speaking, the Coloured community is a distinct, mixed
race Afrikaans speaking community that arose from a combination of Dutch settles,
Khoisan, Bantu, and imported Malaysian laborers. So far, the cultural place of the Coloured
community is an issue that has been largely ignored by my informants. Partly this may be
due to the geographic localization of the Coloured community to the Western Cape, with
many of my informants hailing from Gauteng or even further east. Additionally, the historic
economic and social status of the Coloured community means that fewer Coloured persons
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work in professions where they would have close contact with the white, middle class
informants that I have been interviewing. So far, only C.G. has specifically mentioned the
Coloured Afrikaans community as having a place in relation to the White community:
“Brown (Coloured) South Africans that speak Afrikaans, and the modern thinking White
Afrikaners who welcome change into a real democracy. These are good people that I align
with proudly” (C.G.). Clearly for C.G. Coloured Afrikaans speakers belong solidly with the
new, liberal Afrikaans community. Whether the rest of the Alternative Afrikaners, or even
the Coloured community share his sentiment, remains to be seen through further research.
Perhaps the biggest break between traditional Boers and Alternative Afrikaners is
not the question of responsibility, but of the correct direction for South Africa to move in.
Many Afrikaners, “feel they have been let down by the previous white government. They
struggle to adapt, to see reason. Many of them think they are still superior to their fellow
(black) South Africans” (J.J.S.). What makes Alternative Afrikaners stand apart on the legacy
of apartheid may not be one of responsibility but of recognition; that Alternative Afrikaners
do not, “yearn back to the old apartheid times, in which they received the preferential
treatment from the government” (R.L.), and instead recognize apartheid the same way
most South Africans do, as “appalling” (R.L.), even if for some of them only realize it “if
[they] look back now” (J.J.S.), a testament to the cultural internalization of Apartheid.
In order to fully discuss what it means to set one’s self apart from the Boers, it
becomes essential to examine what the stereotype of the classic, racist Boer is. For this
purpose, we need only look to the guest rapper on Die Antwoord’s song “Wat Pomp”, who
sings, “the name’s Jack Parow, fok Steve Hofmeyr”5. In this one sentence, Jack Parow
manages to establish himself as the antithesis of the quintessential Boer musician, a man
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who has shown up as the object of much scorn from several of my informants: “general
stereotype associated with ‘Afrikaner’ isn’t something I want to be associated with: old SA
flag (vierkleur) on a bakkie’s [pickup truck] bumper, two-‐tone shirts, brandy-‐and-‐Coke-‐
drinking overweight Boer, God-‐fearing, rugby fanatic, Kurt Darren and Steve Hofmeyr-‐fan”
(A.V.). What has led Hofmeyr to embody the stereotype of an old guard Boer is well worth
examining.
Born in Apartheid-‐era Pretoria the same year as C.G. in Nelspruit, Steve Hofmeyr
grew up in a family that had actively participated in the Ossewabrandwag, the Afrikaner
equivalent of the Nazi party through the 1940s. The striking thing about Hofmeyr is not his
family history, but rather his own antics on the national stage in ZA6. These alone can be
written off as a common enough lifestyle for a successful media star; his racially charged
comments and affiliations are more difficult to explain. Hofmeyr freely admits to being a
supporter of “Afrikaner Rights”, publicly supporting the OASE (Onafhanklike Afrikaner
Selfbeskikkingsekspedisie: Expedition for Afrikaner Self-‐Determination) 7, an Afrikaner
political party that seeks to establish independent political determination for the
“Afrikaner Nation”. These tenants of the OASE closely mirror the rational for apartheid set
forth by the “Architect of Apartheid”, former SA Prime Minister H.F. Verwoerd. In a 1961
speech to Parliament, Dr. Verwoerd argues for a system where, “a method whereby the one
racial group will not permanently rule the other, but that every racial group will be given
self-‐rule of its own people, in an area of its own”8. Racial dominion and subjugation is not
the stated goal of nationalistic Afrikaner parties; they put forth their tenants as the
principle of self-‐determination where each racial group is completely independent from all
the others, both territorially and politically. Much as children in a room may draw a
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dividing line, deciding each half belongs to one of them, so does the OASE wish to divide
South Africa into smaller Boer and Black republics that are completely self-‐contained
political entities.
Hofmeyr’s involvement with OASE may be slightly xenophobic and decidedly
nationalistic, but not necessarily worth of mass scorn. Rather, this scorn was earned in
2014 on the social network Twitter, where Hofmeyr posted, “Sorry to offend but in my
books Blacks were the architects of Apartheid. Go figure”9. This created what is known in
the media industry as a “shitstorm” upon being posted, including significant internal
backlash against Steve Hofmeyr. Such comments are not new to Hofmeyr, who in 2011
threatened to use the derogatory word “kaffir” (equivalent to the American English word
nigger) in one of his songs, justifying it as a response to a black politician singing, “Shoot
the Boer”10. In totality, Steve Hofmeyr’s political affiliations and personal statements paint
the picture of a conservative and insular Boer who is proud of his heritage, and perfectly
happy to exist in his own universe apart from the rest of the peoples in South Africa.
While for Alternative Afrikaners it is necessary to break from the traditions of their
Boer brethren, both groups share one of the most important traits of apartheid: Afrikaans.
Regardless of their social stance or personal feelings, my informants have generally shared
the same sentiment, “[Afrikaans] is my language” (F.B.). The truth is that Alternative
Afrikaners were still born in the Afrikaner community and share its language; that even the
most progressive Afrikaner may still find that “[they] argue better in Afrikaans and [they]
love better in Afrikaans” (A.V.), just that they “do not go out to proclaim that [they] love the
language uber alles” (R.L.). Afrikaans then is a fixture of the Alternative Afrikaners, as much
a part of their identity as the color of their skin or the country they live in. But in embracing
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their mother tongue, Alternative Afrikaners run headlong into the legacy of Apartheid.
Despite the schism which is so apparent to Afrikaners, much of South African society still
lumps all white Afrikaans speakers together: “The problem is-‐ if you speak Afrikaans, you
get associated with the conservative, racist Afrikaner” (J.J.S.). For Alternative Afrikaners
there appears to be a very clear cultural need to keep their own mother language while
simultaneously defining themselves as separate from the rest of the Afrikaner community,
not just in their eyes but also for the rest of South Africa.
Luckily, the Alternative community has been able to meet this need for redefinition
through the production of Afrikaans language music. The tradition of music as an outlet for
Alternative Afrikaners goes back to Johannes Kerkorrel, who for Alternative musicians
“changed my perception of Afrikaans music. He showed me that Afrikaans can be different
and Alternative. It can have meaning” (J.J.S.). Interestingly, one of Kerkorrel’s largest and
most successful markets was Europe, beginning in Belgium with his song Hillbrow11, a
ballad to an inner city Johannesburg neighborhood infamous for crime and poverty12.
Kerkorrel’s success outside of the Afrikaans-‐speaking world shows one of the core
tendencies of Alternative Afrikaans musicians, who make “music that happens to be sung in
Afrikaans, but is not exclusively meant for Afrikaners only” (R.L.).
Kerkorrel’s legacy has been the subject of significant scholarly dispute within South
Africa. One of the more insightful analyses of Voëlvry comes from Albert Grundlingh, who
surmises the movement:
“Voëlvry” did rock the boat, but more gently than often assumed. It was
mainly a white middle class movement which in the eighties sought to
Oppenheim 19
redefine elements of Afrikaner ethnicity without fully rejecting it. Although
the movement was largely restricted to the white community and its
proselysing effects were uneven, it was a brave stand to take at the time. As
a social movement it was overtaken by events from 1990 onwards and
predictably it lost its impetus. The boat, however, did not sink. The ‘Voëlvry’
stance taken in the eighties still resonated sixteen years later to help
manufacture an anti-‐apartheid past for a younger generation of Afrikaners
grappling with a sense of identity in quite a different context.” 13
Through reviewing the available literature, Grundlingh’s assessment of the immediate
impact of Voëlvry is one I agree with: Afrikaners were rocked, but gently. However,
through my own research, it appears that the long-‐term effects of Voëlvry run much deeper
than retrospectively manufacturing an anti-‐apartheid heritage. In the words of one
Alternative Musician, “Johannes Kerkorrel, who was part of the Voelvry Movement,
changed my perception of Afrikaans music. He showed me that Afrikaans can be different
and Alternative. It can have meaning” (J.J.S.). For many Alternative Afrikaners, in both my
surveys and personal conversations on social media, Johannes Kerkorrel holds a place of
reverence for allowing his listeners to, “[re-‐align] with that as ‘my’ music” (C.G.), not in
retrospect 16 years later, but in the final years of apartheid. While this may not have dealt
the doodskoot (killer shot) to the Boer establishment, Voëlvry’s greatest legacy lies in the
seeds of rebellion and possibility that it laid in the minds of its younger listeners. Much like
Lou Reed did in the American band The Velvet Underground, Kerkorrel inspired his small
core of listeners to do more than buy records. These listeners who would go on to not only
found Oppikoppi, but create the next generation of Rebel Afrikaans music.
Oppenheim 20
One of the most immediate ways in which Alternative Afrikaners reintegrate
themselves is by embracing the linguistic diversity of South Africa. Previously I mentioned
a willingness to adapt and use languages other than Afrikaans in the public sphere.
However, several of my informants were vocal about going much further than choosing a
language for the occasion, proclaiming they are “proud to speak Afrikaans in its modern
form. Freely mixed with other languages like English, zulu, tswana etc” (C.G.). This shows a
blurring of the cultural boundaries that were so firmly established during Apartheid; no
longer is Afrikaans some pure, abstract language personified by concrete pillars in Paarl
(Afrikaans Language Monument), but a living and breathing entity to be used and mixed
freely by those who speak it.
The epitome of music in mixed Afrikaans is the bizarre yet captivating rap-‐rave duo,
Die Antwoord, whose over the top working class Afrikaner meets Pee-‐Wee Herman
aesthetic is exemplified by their video for the song “Fatty Boom Boom”, featuring the
Aryan-‐esque Ninja in full body paint and equally Aryan Yolandi Visser in blackface14. Die
Antwoord has seen significant international success, headlining major US festivals like
Coachella15, and touring worldwide. For most of the world community, myself included
until my own expedition to ZA, Die Antwoord was the ridiculous black-‐face of Afrikaans
youth: too stoned to care about being poor, too headstrong to care about being white, and
too rebellious to care about swearing; in their own words, Zef. Nothing could be further
from the straight-‐laced rugby and god loving Boer known to the world to be the proprietor
of Apartheid and its associated horrors. In one fell, expletive laden swoop, Die Antwoord
destroyed any of my preconceptions about homogeneity in the Afrikaner community, and
opened the doors of possibility in my mind that there could be “cool” Afrikaners.
Oppenheim 21
Additionally, Die Antwoord uses several languages in their lyrics, often mixing
languages in a single verse. One example is the song “Evil Boy”, whose lyrics are a
mishmash or English, Afrikaans, and Xhosa: “If you feeling me...cool...not feeling me...fuck
off! Wies jy? Fokkol! Umnqunduwakho! (Who are you? No-‐one! Fucking asshole!)”16 In two
lines, rapper ninja uses three languages (one vulgar word to each language too). Free
mixing of languages is a hallmark of many Alternative Afrikaans musicians, especially those
involved in creating what could broadly be considered hip-‐hop. Not only Die Antwoord, but
also Jack Parow and Bittereinder, both artists with significant national fame, use a blend of
Afrikaans and English in their work. The biggest difference for Die Antwoord is the way in
which they also embrace not only the “Black” languages (as well as the Coloured dialect of
Afrikaans), but how they embrace the poverty and hardships endured by the speakers of
these languages. This “township meets White trash” aesthetic is at the core of the group’s
identity, paying homage to the economic and linguistic diversity of ZA.
Within South Africa, the mantle of Zef style is carried not by Die Antwoord, but by
rapper Jack Parow. Even the South Africans who listen to Die Antwoord are generally from
outside of the Afrikaans-‐speaking community, and the only informant who mentioned them
by name (so far) is an English speaker; the duo is in many respects similar to Rammstein in
Germany, an export band. Parow on the other hand, another hip-‐hop artist from Cape
Town, has met national (and international) success with his tongue-‐in-‐cheek song “Cooler
as Ekke”17 (Cooler than me). Through his work and aesthetic, Parow appears to be taking
the piss (making fun of/kidding) out of traditional notions of Afrikaner superiority and
purity; instead opting to have a good time doing what he wants how he wants, and
occasionally having a laugh at himself. Perhaps the most notable thing about Jack Parow is
Oppenheim 22
simply his existence, that there is a White Afrikaner who is making hip-‐hop, in Afrikaans,
for White Afrikaners to listen to. Even before analyzing his lyrics or his reception among
the more conservative Afrikaners, the notion of an Afrikaner performing what has
traditionally been a Black music form, for other Afrikaners and in Afrikaans, would have
seemed impossible in 1988 when Kerkorrel started the Voërfry movement. Parow
represents for Alternative Afrikaners how far they have managed to distance themselves
from the racism and conservatism of the Boers.
One moment of my experience in South Africa stands out above all the others when I
think about the impact of Afrikaans Alternative music. Towards the end of my time in ZA I
spent a few days in Durban, a mostly Black city where the only vestige of Afrikaans was a
sign on an Apartheid-‐era government building. Coming from an Afrikaner house in Cape
Town, my lexicon was full of Afrikaans slang, earning me a dirty look or two from Black cab
drivers. However, at one point I found myself riding in the car with a White acquaintance of
mine, and mentioned Jack Parow as an artist I had learned about and enjoyed. This clean
cut Anglo from a city with almost no Afrikaans speakers not only knew Jack Parow but also
enjoyed his music thoroughly. For his parents, Afrikaans was still the language of
oppression, an ugly language they had been forced to learn in school by a government they
could not relate to. But for him, Afrikaans was defined by oversized baseball cap and Zef
style of Jack Parow.
While Jack Parow and Die Antwoord have built careers on their “Zef”, styling, the two
groups are by no means wholly representative of Afrikaner Hip Hop. One group that stands
apart in the intellectual depth of both their music and lyrics is the trio Bittereinder, a
combination of a lyricist and two DJ’s based out of Pretoria, whose unique and original
Oppenheim 23
music has garnered commercial success and critical acclaim within South Africa.18 Born
and raised in Pretoria, lyricist Jaco van der Merwe provides us an insightful glimpse of a
young Afrikaner living at the end of Apartheid: “…started school in ’89. It was the most
unpopular time ever to be an Afrikaans kid in an English school. My Afrikaner-‐ness was the
daily source of the deepest rejection of my life. I grew up hating Afrikaans and everything
associated with it. I hated my own name…”19. Jaco illustrates one of the greatest problems
young and liberal Afrikaners may encounter with the traditional Boer label, cognitive
dissonance. The basic human desire to embrace one’s self and identity came in stark
contrast to the daily environment that Jaco encountered where Afrikaners were the
epitome of all that was to be hated and ridiculed. Even the strongest persons would find
themselves in an uncomfortable situation.
One common approach to resolving these dissonances, especially in North America,
is assimilation. Yet Jaco and his fellow artists took a stand to reclaim their own identities:
“When I was 25 I wrote my first Afrikaans verse, one of the most intensely spiritual
experiences I’ve ever had. For the first time in my life I wasn’t hiding, I was fully myself,
expressing myself in my mother tongue”19. The creation of art in their mother tongue is, for
many Alternative Artists, a way to come to grips with the history of their language. Those
outside the Afrikaans community often directly equate the language with the 1976 Soweto
Riots. Alternative Afrikaners have in effect taken it upon themselves to show, “[1976]
wasn’t about Afrikaans. It tears me apart that a beautiful language became such a
destructive tool in the hands of powerful, cruel, ignorant, despicable men. Afrikaans is a
language born in fusion of cultures, not in division. It is by name and by nature an African
language”19. We have already seen that for Alternative Afrikaners, Afrikaans is an essential
Oppenheim 24
part of their identity. Thus, after a new identity is synthesized apart from the Boer
institutions, the rest of South African society must also accept this identity for Alternative
Afrikaners to integrate into the state. At the core of this issue, as it is with so much in South
Africa, is language.
The sad truth is that Afrikaans in a divisive language, in large part from the legacy of
1976. Additionally, as is the pattern in sub-‐Saharan countries that have gained
independence from former White masters, Black nationalists no longer welcome those
Whites who chose to stay. Zimbabwe, Mozambique, and Angola all expelled their white
populations to a large part through one mean or another. Jaco and his Afrikaner brethren
find themselves in Camus’s colonist dilemma: being unwelcome in the colony, yet also
being so entrenched that returning to the “mother country” is unthinkable. For Afrikaners,
Boer and Alternative, Africa is home. These are people who know only an African
homeland, and who speak a language that is “by nature an African language”19. Both the
Boers and the Alternative Afrikaners want a future on the continent; the biggest difference
is how the two communities pursue their future, with the Boers preferring insulation and
the Alternatives seeking integration.
Attempts at integration into ZA society by alternative Afrikaners are not without
opposition, from both the conservatism of the Boer community and the resentment of the
Black and Anglo communities. One informants recalls, “I made my marketing class prep for
exams by working out lists and lists of questions (that I sat thought the night working out
so was not a fun exercise for me either). The one class called me racist for punishing them
by doing all this extra work (Tshwana & Khoza black kids) while the other class (also black
kids) obediently did the work. The class that called me racist I immediately backed away
Oppenheim 25
and told them they only need to do the work if they want to. All walked out and did not do
the work; they also failed the subject while the other class passed because of the extra
work” (Questionnaire: E.P.). Such a petty act of racism on the part of the indignant students
is indicative of a massively internalized stereotype of both who Afrikaners are and how
Black youths should interact with them. Proving one’s self as worthy of compassion and
respect is only possible if both parties are open to the idea.
In addition to the ingrained prejudice all to commonly found among the general
population of South Africa, Alternative Afrikaners also face opposition from within the
Afrikaner community. Often the opposition takes the form of disapproval from those close
to Alternatives, such as family or community. One of my informants recounts, “My grandma
once asked me why I had so many CD’s of these horrible people (Fokofpolisiekar) but I just
shrugged it off” (Questionnaire S.T.). If would be hard to conceive a more offensive band to
a Boer than Fokofpolisiekar, whose name translates to “fuck off police car”, a controversial
band ever since its formation in 2003. In addition to the anti-‐establishment band name and
alternative rock style of music they play, Fokofpolisiekar is known for religiously
provocative lyrics, such as: “Kan iemand dalk 'n god bel, en vir hom se ons het hom nie
meer, nodig nie (Can someone call God, and tell him we don't need him anymore)”20. Racy
lyrics for a community that is largely observant Calvinist. Many Alternative Afrikaners are
willing to face chastisement, mild or harsh, in order to listen to the music they like in their
native tongue.
Touching on taboo subjects such as sex or religion lyrically is an act that one would
expect to bring scorn from the conservative community. But within ZA, even something as
innocuous to American listeners as swearing in your music can have real repercussions. At
Oppenheim 26
one show in KwaZulu-‐Natal, rapper Jack Parow was threatened and violently accosted by a
group of conservative listeners, cutting his set short. In Parow’s own words, “I was singing
'Dans, dans fokken dans'. This one guy was shouting at me and said: 'Why are you fucking
swearing?', but that was funny because he was swearing at me”21 For my American readers
who are less familiar with Parow’s work, I’ll reproduce part of a verse from the song that he
was performing, “Dans Dans Dans”:
Fokken dans oppie speakers Dance on the speaker
Fokken dans oppie grond Fucking dance on the ground
Fokken spring oppie tafels Fucking jump on the tables
Fokken mors fokken rond Fucking mess fucking around
Fokken hier fokken daar Fucking here fucking there
Fokken alles deurmekaar Fucking everything is a mess
Fokken Jack Parrow, Bra Fucking Jack Parow Bro
Fokken dans oppie bar 22 Fucking dance on the bar 23
Not exactly “Straight outta Compton”, but this song is still laden with enough expletives to
have Parow labeled, “Satan Slang (Devil Snake)”21 by the Boer community. In part, this
shows the relative conservatism of the national music market within South Africa, where
swearing on air is tightly controlled. Such violent reactions as heckling a performer or
cancelling a set three songs in are more understandable within a musical setting where
vulgarity prevents distribution via radio.
As an American, my first reaction upon hearing Afrikaans hip-‐hop was to note the
irony of an Afrikaner performing what was in its inception an African American art form.
Despite Jack Parow listing Snoop Dogg24 specifically as a musical influence, little mention
Oppenheim 27
seems to be made within South Africa of hip-‐hop’s racial origins, either by White
performers/listeners or their detractors. I asked Jaco van der Merwe about these
connotations directly: “Ironically a good number of my favorite American rappers growing
up were white: Aesop Rock, El-‐P, Sintax the Terrific, Listener, Sev Statik etc. But in recent
years I've also reflected on how strange it is that I connected so strongly with artists like
The Roots and Black Star and Jurassic 5 and Saul Williams in my teenage years. Maybe it
was a connection to a spirit of rebelling against a system that I understood”(vd Merwe). In
part this speaks to the globalization that hip-‐hop has undergone, where the musical form is
no longer the sole property of racial minorities in Brooklyn or Compton, but a style that any
person around the world can co-‐opt for their own uses. Within the White Afrikaner
community, hip-‐hop and the accompanying rap vocal style are still very much novelties:
“Afrikaans people in general are usually about 20 years behind what could liberally be
called a ‘cutting edge’ of style…rap is still quite a new thing to the average Afrikaner. So,
generally, Afrikaans people are more impressed by like: ‘how do you remember all those
words?’ than connecting to the words themselves with a wider knowledge of how rap
works”(vd Merwe). All of this illustrates the unique artistic blend that Afrikaner musicians
face, where the connotations of lyrics and styles are radically different than what is present
in America or Europe.
While the Boer community looks quite diverse from within, with members ranging
from the conservative insulation of Steve Hofmeyr to the radical liberalism of my informant
C.G., breaking the homogenous stereotype seen by the rest of the South African community
remains a major hurdle. Even for young, liberal Anglos the stereotype is so strong that they,
“often assume that [Afrikaners] are racist for no justifiable reason. It’s a remnant of
Oppenheim 28
Apartheid, I suppose” (Questionnaire: D.S.). The most important function of Alternative
Afrikaans music may not lie in the Afrikaans-‐speaking communities at all, but in the ability
of this music to expose listeners from outside the Alternative Afrikaner community to the
diversity of Afrikaners in South Africa. “Bands like Bittereinder and Die Antwoord have
made me see the community as more diverse than I thought it was prior to being exposed
to this music. I think my thoughts towards the community as a child were based on old,
meat-‐consuming, beer-‐drinking, rugby supporters. It’s obviously now developed and
largely because of my exposure to this kind of music and culture” (N.S.). Experiences like
these show the power of music to reach across cultural and linguistic boundaries: a
progressive Anglo who views Afrikaans as a language of oppression can still enjoy
Bittereinder, a Swazi girl can go to Oppikoppi, the largest Afrikaans Alternative music
festival, and bond with Afrikaners over their love of music. Indeed, in speaking with the
producers of Oppikoppi, they noted the ways the festival’s demographics have changed
over the years, “It started as mainly Alternative Afrikaners going to the festival. But now it
is a good English and Afrikaans mix. The change is coming in, more Black kids are joining in
on the festivities” (Oppikoppi Questionnaire, formatted). Through music, Alternative
Afrikaners are able to create a public image within South Africa of being “cool Afrikaners”,
paving the way for further integration and cultural mixing.
The effectiveness of Afrikaans Alternative music at deconstructing cross-‐cultural
boundaries remains to be seen in the coming years. South Africa’s future culturally and
linguistically remains an issue that is actively debated; while listening to TuksFM, a radio
station based out of the University of Pretoria known for playing Alternative music, I heard
the following exchange, “Maybe we should make the national language French of Spanish,
Oppenheim 29
something with no history or politics? That or Klingon. Unless you’re a Romulan…”25. With
the help of Alternative music, young Afrikaners can face the uncertain future in South
Africa with a strong sense of identity and community, “The Afrikaans people who listen to
Afrikaans alternative music, are my people. They are the new South Africans who are not
racist, not hateful, not arrogant, and honest about themselves, and love the diversity we
have in South Africa” (Questionnaire: P.K.). This music not only provides a community for
its listeners, but also instills pride in many Afrikaners who, “previously had no respect for
the Afrikaans ‘culture’”(Questionnaire: E.M.). In a sense, Alternative musicians are stripping
Afrikaans of the ugly connotations it accrued through 45 years of Apartheid, making
Afrikaans “a language rather than a belief system” (S.T.). Perhaps in the future disliking
Afrikaans will have less to do with 1976 and more to do with one having, “a lisp and can't
pronounce most of the words properly” (Questionnaire: N.P.).
With the variety of topics I have covered today, there is still plenty of room for
further academic research. The effects of the literary counterculture movement that existed
in ZA during the 1960s may be integrated to the later musical movements. The lasting
legacy of Voëlvry, including the beginnings of the movement with Bernoldus Neimand can
be further integrated to the development of the musical scene today. My informant pool is
also limited in scope and size; it would be useful to speak to more informants, both
conservative and liberal, from around the country and from different ethnic groups. Input
from Alternative music institution such as TuksFM is missing or incomplete. Finally, while I
have attempted to remain unbiased, I am limited by virtue of my being human. One side
effect is that I have focused more heavily on the artists who interest me personally and
whose music I enjoy researching. Despite these shortcomings, I have attempted to
Oppenheim 30
synthesize an academic discussion of a very real and pressing phenomenon that I
personally observed in South Africa. I hope that my writing meets just not the standards of
my academic peers in the United States, but also those of the informants who took the time
to assist me. Their efforts communicating personal details with a stranger on a different
continent made my project; this paper is for the Africans who made it possible.
As young Afrikaners find themselves in a society increasingly distanced from the
legacy of Apartheid, they find themselves needing to redefine their identity: White, African,
and Afrikaans speaking, yet still distinct and separate from the racist Boer that Afrikaans
brings to many minds in South Africa. Through the production of Alternative Afrikaans
music, these new-‐Afrikaners are able to disseminate their distinct identity not just among
themselves but also into the greater South African society. As more and more people are
exposed to the true diversity in the Afrikaner community, it may open the door to true
acceptance and reconciliation between groups in South Africa. To many of my informants,
Afrikaans Alternative musicians are “saving our language from being known as the
language of our fathers, [making] our language not just bearable but beautiful” (S.T.).
Oppenheim 31
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