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23 September 2022 | Story Rulanzen Martin | Photo Rulanzen Martin
Renata van Reenen
Renata van Reenen has been a South African Sign Language (SASL) champion since primary school, and she is using her postgraduate degree to further SASL in higher education.

Renata van Reenen, a master’s student at the University of the Free State (UFS), recalls how a school talk in 1998 by Deaf activist Johan Gouws instilled in her a kind of ‘duty’ to become a champion for Deaf people. Van Reenen, who in 1987 became the first Deaf child in South Africa to receive a cochlear implant, says it was at this talk that she realised that, as a Deaf person, she has her own language, identity, and culture – and that she is not “a person with a disability”. 

Van Reenen is currently a language facilitator in the UFS Department of South African Sign Language (SASL) and Deaf Studies, and she believes that Deaf students should be empowered to embrace their attributes. Her interests include exploring different sign languages around the world, Deaf issues, and how Deaf children are supported in schools for the Deaf. “One of my hobbies is to put my creative ideas on paper, and I would like to develop and record these stories in SASL so they can be accessible to Deaf schools as resource materials,” she says. “These materials would then also be accessible when teaching the subject South African Sign Language as a Home Language.”

Van Reenen, who worked as an assistant teacher at a school for the Deaf for seven years, is passionate about SASL and the lived experiences of the Deaf. We asked her to share some views on empowering the Deaf and SASL: 

Why is it important to empower Deaf students?

When I was 17, I had no Deaf identity. I did not understand sign language and how it was used – when the Deaf person gave a speech at the school, it changed my life. I realised that I am a Deaf person with my own language, identity, and culture, and that I am not a person with a disability. I strongly believe that Deaf students need to be empowered to fully embrace their identity, language, and culture, and through this expectance show the world who we are. My favourite motto I always share with my Deaf learners is: “Believe in yourself, show them what you can do.” I also encourage them to continuously teach Hearing students the beautiful language, as the famous Deaf quote states: “Sign language is the noblest gift God has given to Deaf people.” George Veditz, the former president of the National Association of the Deaf of the United States, said, “As long as we have Deaf people on Earth, we will have signs.” He protected our language at a time (the early 20th century) when the world strongly believed that Deaf people had to learn through oralism and had to learn spoken language in order to function as a “normal person” alongside hearing people.

As a Deaf person, do you believe the UFS community is doing enough to accommodate you, and how do you feel about being part of the Department of SASL and Deaf Studies? 

When I received a link for a workshop I had to attend, I was so overwhelmed when I saw the interpreter on the video link, and knew that it would be extremely helpful for me during my research. The UFS Centre for Universal Access and Disability Support made sure I have full access to any workshops the university provides. It is amazing that my supervisor can also sign. That made me feel at home, being in a Deaf world without communication barriers. The department is an amazing team that supports and encourages me during my studies.

What will you be doing in honour of Deaf Awareness Month?

The SASL Department and I, along with Deaf Studies, have organised a “Signing Space” event in September to bring Deaf and Hearing students together to socialise with each other. This event will give Hearing students the opportunity to learn about the Deaf world. During this event I will give a small presentation such as “Poetry in SASL” that will show that Deaf people have their own literature, and that it forms part of their language, SASL. We will not only focus on presentations but also on fun activities, such as games that are prominent within the Deaf community. 

Why did you decide to pursue your MA at the UFS? 

During the coronavirus pandemic I applied to the University of Gallaudet in Washington, DC to study for a Master of Education in Sign Language degree. Gallaudet is the world's only university in which all programmes and services are specifically designed to accommodate deaf and hard of hearing students. I was accepted to study further and to ultimately become a teacher or lecturer. My aim was to train Deaf adults to qualify in different areas of SASL, ranging from SASL Linguistics, SASL Pedagogy, SASL Media Production, and so forth. In an ideal world these could be offered as short courses through some tertiary institutions which already offer SASL on undergraduate and postgraduate levels. Unfortunately, I did not have enough support, but I did not let it stop my dream. I decided to change my university of choice and applied at the University of the Free State. I am pursuing my MA degree and continuing my studies as a Deaf person. The University of the Free State is providing and recognising SASL. This is a positive step, as South African Sign Language will soon be the twelfth official language of South Africa.

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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