By Zamafuze L Ngcobo
Not too long ago, a friend and I decided to explore the dreaded inner city. From the dusty streets of the commuting citizens to the retro city-renewal projects that boast city-living aesthetics. We arrived at another one of those city exhibitions that showcase art versions of the city you kind of wish was the reality you live in. This one was a photo walk of different aspects of Joburg and I guess reflected on what makes the city such a special place to live in. As we walked through the room, perusing and admiring the photographic genious of the artists, it all seemed really great until we got to a photo titled “Troyeville Postbox”.
Somehow we both stopped a bit too long at this picture, it turned into that awkward moment where you look at each other with that “are you thinking what I’m thinking?” look. OK so let me paint a clearer picture of this specific photo. Two black children, male I assume, are looking through a red post box in town, hence the title. Like all children playing in the streets they didn’t exactly look like Bill Gates’ sons, if you know what I mean.
The focus of our attention wasn’t so much the young lads or the post box. What seemed to capture our attention was the snot dripping from their noses. What is it about snot and black children in pictures? This seems to be the archetypal depiction of the African child. At that moment my friend turned to me and said, “But couldn’t the photographer find imfaduko yokubasula amafinyila (a cloth to wipe the snot) or even use his jersey, really?”
This is when it hit us that perhaps a snot-dripping black child has become the international reference for the African child. Without the snot would the world not be able to identify these children as African? Would they perhaps assume they were Jamaican, English or even African American? Has this become a deliberate attempt to define all African children as poverty-stricken and lacking hygiene or is this just what artists are taught at photography school?
At that point I looked to see who the photographer was. My friend pointed out that it was probably a white person. Before anyone makes the assumption that this is a racial attack or generalisation, it is only because when pictures of us were taken as children there was always a mama or aunty nearby, or even the photographer himself who would say, “Yeyi wena, sula amafinyilwa lapho!” (hey you, wipe your snot) if not, a willing Samaritan would offer his hands to do the job. And I mean this literally.
Without further insult, does this mean that the dirty-looking and snot-dripping child has become the avatar for the African child. Yes, given there are thousands of children and families in Africa that are victims of the food insecurity crisis. But is this really how our children are supposed to view themselves in relation to the rest of the world?
Some might argue that pictures such as these assist in calling out for aid for our impoverished Africa. But when people see these pictures, do they get up and say let me go find that child, feed and clothe him or do they just stand there with champagne glasses in hand? Layered in Burberry coats and scarves do they say “ag, shame man” while continuing to engage in futile debates about the situation “all the way” in Africa and how the whole continent is powerless, war-stricken, corrupted … blah blah, blah.
My intention here is not to trivialise the “not so nice” parts about our continent, especially in light of Somalia’s plight but rather ask why does this exception have to be the rule for all African children. Is this becoming the subconscious conditioning of Africa’s identity? How long will they play us as the lesser world actor? Or perhaps even better, how long will we play ourselves as the lesser continent? One Young World (OYW) co-founder Kate Robertson put it well on behalf of the OYW Summit African delegates 2010: “It is time we started being seen as a continent of investment rather than aid.”
Zamafuze Lumka Ngcobo is a Mandela Rhodes scholar completing her postgraduate degree in strategic communication at the University of Johannesburg. She is a One Young World delegate who is sponsored by her mentors Waggener Edstrom SA.
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