Strangers -- just enemies you haven't met

They say God created alcohol to prevent the Irish from taking over the world, which is true in the sense that they never bothered to colonise anything. Yet, if you look at this country of over 6 million souls, it is one of the most successful exporters of culture in the world. Most cities in the world have some form of Irish pub, and you can hardly avoid (try as you might) hearing an Irish band at some point. Blame Guinness, blame U2, blame generations of large scale emigration — the Irish are everywhere.

Which got me thinking — what are our South African cultural export products? A bit of market research reveals that apartheid, Nelson Mandela and Charlize Theron are always the first mentions. Seether, JM Coetzee, Miriam Makeba, The Gods must be Crazy and District 9 also make the list, depending on who you’re talking to. If you happen upon a White Russian (not the drink, the country — otherwise known as Belarus), they know all about Dirk Prinsloo, who managed to impregnate two of their female citizens and rob a bank with a toy pistol during his 18-month pre-incarceration stay. And, when yesterday I asked my (Polish) Afrikaans literature class what they know about Afrikaans, a chorus sounded: “De La Rey!”

For a second I felt like Poland, freed from the Nazis by the communists. Like the restaurant lobster who thought he’d escaped, like Andre Stander on that Miami morning. The Boere will get you, no matter where you go. But let’s not rehash the rehashing that was that jingoist anthem. I took their answer with a smile, and proceeded with a discussion of some poetry. It happened to be post-Anglo Boer War poetry by FW Reitz. The similarities were as striking as the 100-year jet lag between the two texts.

Shortly after, I was relieved to find that many of the students actually know more about South Africa than a board-shorted bru on a campus back home. Two courses of cultural studies and a year of Afrikaans language acquisition has given them a broad, and refreshingly neutral, perspective on the R of SA. From trance dances to trance parties via violence and sirens, they know a little bit about everything. An interdisciplinary approach means their syllabus consists of bits of sociology, anthropology, history, literature, philosophy and languages combined to enable them to understand and practically engage with cultural phenomena. Last year they did “braai”.

Of course, to fully understand the concept “braai”, one needs a thorough background in colonialism, post-colonialism, spatial identity, symbolic interaction theory, parodic reappropriation of inherited ritual, et cetera et cetera. At the same time the final aim must always be practical (can you pass the Blitz please, Katarczyna? Dziekuje. What? No, your pronunciation is wrong. It’s “po-li-sie-kof-fie”*). This sort of wide, academic perspective also means that they are possibly the only simultaneous fans of Bok van Blerk and Zola. See, integration is possible. In Poznan, at least.

After class, I went for a beer with Cormac, my Irish flatmate. A rather drunken Pole slouched on the bar counter and enquired in slack-jawed English where we were from. When we told him, he pointed at Cormac:

“You, I like.”

And turning to me:

“You, fuck off out of my country.”

Finally, I was a victim of xenophobia! I reacted as many must have to the Group Areas Act — I was sure he couldn’t be serious. Patting him on the back, I laughed and clinked my glass against his. He pulled away violently and I could see by the spit flowing out of the corners of his mouth that he was very much serious.

“You come here and take the jobs that should go to Polish people!” he shouted.

All attempts to explain my job description were fruitless, and when he once again ordered me to leave, I shrugged and sat down next to him, stubborn as a bittereinder. Seething, he soon left, leaving me pondering South African vs Irish cultural exports. Sure, we’re running a bit low on James Joyces. But then, we don’t send drunken bigots with strange tastes in music all over the world. Or wait …

*Brandy and Coke. (And shame on you if you didn’t know).