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23 September 2020 | Story Nombulelo Shange | Photo Supplied
Nombulelo Shange is a Lecturer in the Department of Sociology.

Heritage Day is almost here; it’s time to celebrate all the ‘fluffy’, less threatening to whiteness parts of African culture, braai, and sample weird and wonderful traditional food we’ve never tried before. For one day, we go to work in beautiful colourful traditional attires, put on cultural dance and singing performances, and share it on social media. We will have dialogues on ubuntu and how we should use it to ‘turn the other cheek’ and ignore structural oppression in an attempt to save the failed rainbow nation. What will be missing, and what is always missing, is serious discourse on how side-lined indigenous knowledge can and should be used to address poverty, developmental and ecological challenges, our struggling health-care system, and many other modern and historical challenges that South Africa is faced with. 

Decolonising knowledge systems

#FeesMustFall protests in 2015 and 2016 briefly brought the issue of decolonising knowledge systems and, well … everything to the fore. But since the end of the FMF protests, these discussions have been confined to the university space and are not being heard in other important spaces such as workplaces, churches, healthcare structures, schools, etc. Even within universities, students have the sense that their decolonial agenda has been hijacked and turned into a PR activity that pushes reform and minimal systematic change instead of revolution and a total dismantling. And so, indigenous knowledge ends up being manipulated and moulded to fit the Western context rather than being the foundation of the curriculum. 

The COVID-19 global pandemic has forced us into a precarious space, where we have to rethink almost everything about life, our work environment, how we use technology, how we socialise and interact with each other, how we run schools, how we show caring, and so much more. We have an opportunity here to rethink how we can use this disruption and those that will come in future to advance our cultural and traditional medical practices. So much of Western/modern medicine is already based on the cultural appropriation of African knowledge systems, which we as Africans at times look down upon. The appropriation of African ideas is a manipulation that involves stealing African ideas, presenting them as Western, while convincing Africans that the same practices are inferior. One example of this is the story of Onesimus, the African slave who cured smallpox.

Onesimus’ role in curing smallpox

Onesimus lived during the smallpox pandemic of the early 1700s, which claimed 30% of the lives of those infected. Onesimus was sold to Cotton Mather, a New England minister and author. During the pandemic, Onesimus advised Mather that smallpox was preventable. Onesimus shared the details of a common surgical procedure, which helped to prevent smallpox and many other contagious illnesses in Africa. The procedure involved making an incision on a patient’s arm and exposing them to a small amount of the disease to allow the body to build immunity to the disease in a controlled environment while still under the care of the healthcare provider. In the case of smallpox, it was a small amount of pus from an infected person that was rubbed on the incision of the patient being immunised. Mather then ran human trials on slaves and found this vaccine to be successful. The slaves who formed part of his trials were less likely to contract smallpox, and those who did were more likely to recover.

Just like most important black contributions in history, Onesimus’ role was written from the history books, and the credit was given to Mather. Eventually, scientists researched and explored this method, and their discoveries led to modern-day vaccination medicine and technology that saves millions of lives every year. This and other violent historical erasures has contributed to the systemic racist ways in which we undermine African indigenous knowledge and always opt for Western solutions to health challenges, even in instances where the African solution might be cheaper, more accessible, and more effective. 

Traditional healers possess a wealth of knowledge

Fast forward more than 300 years to 2020, the COVID-19 outbreak and global lockdown. Countries such as China, Russia, the UK, and many others involved in trying to develop a vaccine for the Coronavirus are still exploring similar methodologies to what Onesimus shared with Mather to fight the spread of smallpox. Locally, traditional healers are frustrated because they are being left out of interventions to tackle the spread of the Coronavirus. In an interview with Sunday Independent, traditional healer Zama Ndebele expressed his disappointment over government’s lack of engagement with traditional healers. Ndebele added that their collaboration in creating a cure or vaccine would be useful and that they possess a wealth of knowledge about different herbs and their uses. Traditional healers are still interested in collaboration despite running the risk of experiencing erasure and exclusion from historical and scientific records, in a similar way to how Onesimus’s contribution was undermined.

Often when the discussion around mainstreaming African knowledge systems comes up, some worry that the quality of knowledge will be weakened. But French philosopher Michael Foucault, whose contributions have been instrumental in feminist and revolutionary discourse, reminds us that knowledge is about power. Foucault says even scientific knowledge is socially constructed. Those who dominate use their power to present their cultural ideas as the only objective scientific truth. 

Prioritise and value own knowledge systems

One positive reflection we should gain from the current global pandemic is that we should prioritise and value our own knowledge systems. We need to do better in investing in our cultural identity and indigenous knowledge. We need to ensure that it can be used as more than just gimmicks to attract Western tourists who expect us to ‘perform Africanness’ for their entertainment. African knowledge systems should be built into the way knowledge is produced, the way we run our healthcare systems, how we build new technologies. We can learn a lot from Asian countries such as South Korea who have done this successfully in many social structures, but more noticeably, in their healthcare systems that surpass even some of the best Western healthcare systems. Doing this can also potentially restore black identity and create a sense of pride as we start to see our practices represented in the mainstream and being labelled as important scientific contributions instead of an alternative. This reclaiming can drive us to juxtapose our knowledge systems with other cultures in ways that uplift and advance humanity. With ecological degradation looming and unknown public health crises lurking in our future, African knowledge systems that often encourage sustainability have the potential to save our lives in various ways.

Opinion article by Nombulelo Shange, Lecturer in the Department of Sociology, University of the Free State

 

Watch short video below:

 


News Archive

Media: Sunday Times
2006-05-20

Sunday Times, 4 June 2006

True leadership may mean admitting disunity
 

In this edited extract from the inaugural King Moshoeshoe Memorial Lecture at the University of the Free State, Professor Njabulo S Ndebele explores the leadership challenges facing South Africa

RECENT events have created a sense that we are undergoing a serious crisis of leadership in our new democracy. An increasing number of highly intelligent, sensitive and committed South Africans, across class, racial and cultural spectrums, confess to feeling uncertain and vulnerable as never before since 1994.

When indomitable optimists confess to having a sense of things unhinging, the misery of anxiety spreads. We have the sense that events are spiralling out of control and that no one among the leadership of the country seems to have a definitive handle on things.

There can be nothing more debilitating than a generalised and undefined sense of anxiety in the body politic. It breeds conspiracies and fear.

There is an impression that a very complex society has developed, in the last few years, a rather simple, centralised governance mechanism in the hope that delivery can be better and more quickly driven. The complexity of governance then gets located within a single structure of authority rather than in the devolved structures envisaged in the Constitution, which should interact with one another continuously, and in response to their specific settings, to achieve defined goals. Collapse in a single structure of authority, because there is no robust backup, can be catastrophic.

The autonomy of devolved structures presents itself as an impediment only when visionary cohesion collapses. Where such cohesion is strong, the impediment is only illusory, particularly when it encourages healthy competition, for example, among the provinces, or where a province develops a character that is not necessarily autonomous politically but rather distinctive and a special source of regional pride. Such competition brings vibrancy to the country. It does not necessarily challenge the centre.

Devolved autonomy is vital in the interests of sustainable governance. The failure of various structures to actualise their constitutionally defined roles should not be attributed to the failure of the prescribed governance mechanism. It is too early to say that what we have has not worked. The only viable corrective will be in our ability to be robust in identifying the problems and dealing with them concertedly.

We have never had social cohesion in South Africa — certainly not since the Natives’ Land Act of 1913. What we definitely have had over the decades is a mobilising vision. Could it be that the mobilising vision, mistaken for social cohesion, is cracking under the weight of the reality and extent of social reconstruction, and that the legitimate framework for debating these problems is collapsing? If that is so, are we witnessing a cumulative failure of leadership?

I am making a descriptive rather than an evaluative inquiry. I do not believe that there is any single entity to be blamed. It is simply that we may be a country in search of another line of approach. What will it be?

I would like to suggest two avenues of approach — an inclusive model and a counter-intuitive model of leadership.

In an inclusive approach, leadership is exercised not only by those who have been put in some position of power to steer an organisation or institution. Leadership is what all of us do when we express, sincerely, our deepest feelings and thoughts; when we do our work, whatever it is, with passion and integrity.

Counter-intuitive leadership lies in the ability of leaders to read a problematic situation, assess probable outcomes and then recognise that those outcomes will only compound the problem. Genuine leadership, in this sense, requires going against probability in seeking unexpected outcomes. That’s what happened when we avoided a civil war and ended up with an “unexpected” democracy.

Right now, we may very well hear desperate calls for unity, when the counter-intuitive imperative would be to acknowledge disunity. A declaration of unity where it manifestly does not appear to exist will fail to reassure.

Many within the “broad alliance” might have the view that the mobilising vision of old may have transformed into a strategy of executive steering with a disposition towards an expectation of compliance. No matter how compelling the reasons for that tendency, it may be seen as part of a cumulative process in which popular notions of democratic governance are apparently undermined and devalued; and where public uncertainty in the midst of seeming crisis induces fear which could freeze public thinking at a time when more voices ought to be heard.

Could it be that part of the problem is that we are unable to deal with the notion of opposition? We are horrified that any of us could be seen to have become “the opposition”. The word has been demonised. In reality, it is time we began to anticipate the arrival of a moment when there is no longer a single, overwhelmingly dominant political force as is currently the case. Such is the course of history. The measure of the maturity of the current political environment will be in how it can create conditions that anticipate that moment rather than seek to prevent it. We see here once more the essential creativity of the counter-intuitive imperative.

This is the formidable challenge of a popular post-apartheid political movement. Can it conceptually anticipate a future when it is no longer overwhelmingly in control, in the form in which it is currently, and resist, counter-intuitively, the temptation to prevent such an eventuality? Successfully resisting such an option would enable its current vision and its ultimate legacy to our country to manifest in different articulations, which then contend for social influence. In this way, the vision never really dies; it simply evolves into higher, more complex forms of itself. Consider the metaphor of flying ants replicating the ant community by establishing new ones.

We may certainly experience the meaning of comradeship differently, where we will now have “comrades on the other side”.

Any political movement that imagines itself as a perpetual entity should look at the compelling evidence of history. Few movements have survived those defining moments when they should have been more elastic, and that because they were not, did not live to see the next day.

I believe we may have reached a moment not fundamentally different from the sobering, yet uplifting and vision-making, nation-building realities that led to Kempton Park in the early ’90s. The difference between then and now is that the black majority is not facing white compatriots across the negotiating table. Rather, it is facing itself: perhaps really for the first time since 1994. Could we apply to ourselves the same degree of inventiveness and rigorous negotiation we displayed leading up to the adoption or our Constitution?

This is not a time for repeating old platitudes. It is the time, once more, for vision.

In the total scheme of things, the outcome could be as disastrous as it could be formative and uplifting, setting in place the conditions for a true renaissance that could be sustained for generations to come.

Ndebele is Vice-Chancellor of the University of Cape Town and author of the novel The Cry of Winnie Mandela

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