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African Knowledge: Not yet uhuru

20 September 2021 | Story Nombulelo Shange | Photo André Damons

adnombulelo5 copy — Nombulelo Shange, Lecturer in the Department of Sociology, asks what it would look like if we looked inward and invested in our own indigenous methods of nurturing and encouraging this and similar practices? Could other important scientific innovations emerge from it?

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

Last year I wrote an opinion piece on the importance of indigenous knowledge, especially in healing practices. The piece detailed the origins of modern vaccines as an old, culturally appropriated African practice that was instrumental in fighting smallpox in 1700s Europe. That piece is perhaps even more significant this year, as many Africans are afraid of the COVID-19 vaccine. The hesitancy comes from a distrust of Western medicine, which has been responsible for many atrocities all over the world, as well as the South African biological warfare created by the apartheid government and led by Wouter Basson, who was dubbed ‘Dr Death’.

African knowledge systems have come a long way – from being overlooked as valuable sciences or being misrepresented by Western scholars, who for a long time saw themselves as the only suitable custodians of our experiences, ideals, history, culture, and knowledge. Today, although a lot more needs to be done, we are seeing a rise in African intellectuals, practices, and solutions. In the academy, we see this in the calls for decolonised education, which has emphasised the importance of Southern African scholarly contributions locally and internationally.

In our day-to-day lives, we also see this shift towards reclaiming African solutions to deal with modern-day challenges. Practices such as visiting sangomas/traditional healers and the general practising of African traditional religion were seen as taboo or often labelled as hedonism. Many were forced to acknowledge their ancestors or perform sacrifices in private. But today, many are openly practising their cultural rituals when they want to give thanks for good fortune, when they are struggling to find employment, and for both physical and emotional healing that individuals or the collective needs. Although not ‘scientifically verified’, the African herb called umhlonyane helped many during the COVID-19 pandemic, especially during the major waves that overwhelmed and threatened to cripple our healthcare system. Many have turned to this herb as a solution to help them fight COVID-19. Umhlonyane is commonly used by sangomas for a variety of reasons; to boost the immune system, for patients with illnesses that attack the respiratory system, and many other things. This kind of revitalisation and mainstreaming of indigenous knowledge systems and epistemological pedagogies can undo challenges such as vaccine hesitancy and general distrust of biomedicine, while elevating African knowledge.

The missing link

Despite these and many other positive strides that place African knowledge at the forefront, something is still missing, because we are still far from where we need to be as a continent. There are many things we can draw from to make sense of why the progress is slow. We could draw from the usual arguments around the missing, undervalued African Renaissance. We could also argue that while African ideals are gaining prominence, they are often only invoked as an ‘alternative’ or afterthought. Arguably, even with umhlonyane, it was only from desperation that people turned to it. All of these are valid, but I also what to argue that we are limited by a kind of epistemological slavery, where we use conflicting Western systems of knowledge production in producing African knowledge. We rely on Western methodologies for knowledge production, Western schooling systems for how we engage with and use the knowledge, and even Western systems for how we store and preserve the knowledge.

Trapping African knowledge in Western epistemology

The April Cape Town fire, which has spread to the University of Cape Town and destroyed the African Studies library, is one illustration of the danger of trapping African knowledge in Western epistemological systems. Much of what was lost in the fire is work that will most likely be lost forever; it is possible that no other records of it exist elsewhere. The issue is that in Africa, knowledge is communally produced, shared, and owned. Western systems encourage the containment and individual ownership of knowledge. Traditionally, African knowledge is often shared in the sense that the process of producing and sharing this knowledge is done as a collective and is built into the day-to-day practices rather than being crafted as a separate experience in the way that mainstream Western education and research is done.

Reimagining African epistemology

There is an important method of passing down useful skills that you still find in African households even today. As kids, we often hated it, because it took us away from our games, watching TV, or general leisure time. As Zulus, we refer to it as ukuthunywa/thuma – the English translation of ‘running errands’ does not adequately represent what it means, but it will do. I want to argue that this practice has traditionally been an important epistemological tool for producing and sharing knowledge. As a child growing up in a family of farmers, for example, you are taught how to be a farmer through these ‘errands’. You might start off with small requests, such as having to watch while the grown-ups or older children perform certain tasks; as time goes on, you are expected to take on more and more responsibilities in the family trade or even in helping neighbours and other community members. Even when it came to storing and preserving knowledge, it was done in such a way that it was still easily accessible. It would be stored as rock art, songs and performances, everyday crafts, and practices. And contrary to Western beliefs that Africans never wrote or documented, for cultures such as the Egyptians and Ashanti, knowledge was even stored as written inscriptions.

When we move away from ukuthunywa towards the more Western mainstream, some challenges arise. Students are almost exclusively taught in theoretical ways, separate from their everyday experiences, which makes it difficult to understand and value the knowledge and its place in society. Knowledge goes from being communally owned to being owned by an individual researcher or institution, which limits who has access to the information, who has the right to use it, and even limitations on how it can be used. At times, even the communities from which the knowledge originally came, are limited by copyright laws. I want to argue that if we had created African knowledge using African practices or possible methodologies such as ukuthnywa, the loss of the UCT African Studies section wouldn’t have felt so bad, because the knowledge would be actively existing in society and the ability to recreate and redocument it would feel within reach.

The freeing of our indigenous knowledge systems requires that we shift from looking outwards for solutions. For example, instead of looking towards dangerous fossil fuel and expensive Western renewable energy solutions to address our ongoing energy crisis, why not look inward and invest in our own indigenous methods of creating cheaper, sustainable biogas using animal and food waste. Imagine if we did it in ways that empowers black rural women who are the custodians of this knowledge, so that while dealing with the energy issues, we simultaneously address poverty and environmental degradation. What would it look like if we continued to nurture and encourage this and similar practices? Could other important scientific innovations emerge from it? Could it grow to the level of informing global discourse? Could we finally be uhuru?

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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