community conversations

Vuselela

Cebo Mvubu

"‘Vuselela’ means ‘Restoration.’ ‘Vuselela’ was one of the first artworks we made when Carol Baker started the Art Project to help in this area (Hamburg, Ntilini and Bodiam). People were suffering from poverty and lack of opportunity. In the artwork we embroidered herds of Nguni cattle to symbolise restoration of the cattle that were destroyed many years ago, first through lungsickness, the disease brought by the European settlers, and also through the famine after the cattle killings. It is said that in 1856, the young girl Nongqawuse had a vision by the Gxarha River. Two of her ancestors appeared to her and told her that the spirits would drive the settlers into the sea if the Xhosa people destroyed their livestock and crops. Then the cattle would be replaced by strong herds, free of sickness, and the grain would overflow from the granaries. But the result was starvation for our people because this prophecy did not come to pass. This created a lot of hardship and Nongqawuse was blamed. The artwork was to restore the community’s pride and hope for the future, through creativity. It was also to change people’s attitudes to Nongqawuse and to see the bigger picture. "

Veronica Betani:

"Talking about restoration, yes, to me this artwork is also about restoring who we are and what we have in us. We as a people have many skills within us, but we didn’t know this. You don't know that you have a skill until you start doing something. It’s only then that you know you have ability. To me, that is mainly why the artwork is called ‘Vuselela.’ When Carol Baker started the Art Project, she actually restored what we already had in us. Most of us didn't know that we are artists, or that we have artistic ability, until the project was initiated. At least, speaking from my side, personally, I didn't know that I am an artist, that something I make can attract the eyes or the minds or the hearts of other people. So that is the meaning of the artwork ‘Vuselela’ that stands out for me, because now I am making a living through the artwork that we are doing. The Project as a whole has restored my inner me or my self-esteem and made me the person that I am today. I can say, I am restored by art.

Another artwork that has restored our sense of who we are as a people is the Keiskamma Tapestry that we call Imbali ngeMpumakapa (A history of the Eastern Cape). In this artwork, we are trying to find out where we are from because we as Black people didn’t have history that was written down in books. For example, we know that we as Black people are related to the Khoisan. In the Keiskamma Tapestry we are stating that fact, showing it for all to see. This way our children can always know their roots and where they are from and this knowledge cannot again be taken away from us.

Personally, I am proud of the Keiskamma Tapestry. I am proud of Keiskamma Art Project for producing such a history. Now we have our Keiskamma Tapestry, it will help to keep our history alive for our children and the coming generation.

The symbol I like most in the artwork is Baba Madiba. While he was young, he was a boxer. For me this shows that a person starts somewhere and goes somewhere. We didn’t ever imagine that Baba Madiba, as a boxer one day, could be a president another day. It sets a good example for our children."

Siya Maswana:

"I also like the Keiskamma Tapestry very much, the way it tells a very long story about our history. It is 120 metres long because it tries to leave nothing out. It was bought by Standard Bank and loaned to the Houses of Parliament in Cape Town. When there was the fire in the Houses of Parliament in Cape Town, just after Bishop Desmond Tutu died, it was hanging in the corridor there. Luckily, it wasn’t damaged and we managed to show it in the retrospective at Constitution Hill in 2022/23. Cebo and I travelled to Joburg to install it in the old Women’s Jail, with the curators Pippa Hetherington and Cathy Stanley. It’s an old tapestry so we have to be very careful with it. Also, installation is very complex because it is so long and we had to get the order of the panels right. But we did it!"

Nozeti Makhubalo:

"We talked a lot about our history when we were working on the Keiskamma Tapestry. Something it shows is that there were not only British settlers in Eastern Cape but also German settlers. That is why eMthonjeni became known as Hamburg, named after the city of Hamburg in Germany. When the German people arrived here, they changed the way people lived in Hamburg.

At the old German church that was built here many years ago, a huge wild fig tree grew through the wall. It shows how strong nature is and how strong God’s creation is. People used to go to that church, but then the wild fig tree just grew through the wall. I don’t know if the fig tree is still there, but you can go have a look. The Germans also built a church in Ntilini but it collapsed. It was old, and nobody was there to take care of it, so it collapsed. That is where there is a graveyard now.

Also, when I was a child, we were staying at an old German house, made of red face bricks. It was a five-roomed house with a kitchen, my granny’s bedroom (where I also slept) and two other bedrooms for my uncles. They were working out of Hamburg: one in East London, one in Joburg. Then there was the sitting room and dining room. It was open and big."

Eunice Mangwane:

"People who grew up here know so much, like this name Hamburg. The German settlers changed the name of the village from the beautiful Xhosa name eMthonjeni, which means ‘the water that comes up from underground.’ There is a stone house near my house that was apparently a German house, and there is an old school that the settlers’ children were attending."

Veliswa Mangcangaza:

"Looking at the artwork, the skirt you can see here is called Jerimani. I think this is because the first people to have shops here were the Germans. This lady is wearing the traditional wear for Xhosa ladies: the white skirt with black braiding and the pipe and walking stick; the gentleman is wearing his short white pants with beads. "

Siya Maswana:

"The Keiskamma Tapestry is similar to the Cream Tapestry, the one we call Imbali ngeziganeko zeMpumakapa. Imbali means history. Iziganeko means events that happened long ago, and Mpumakapa is the Xhosa name for Eastern Cape. Another name some people prefer is the older one, iMpumakoloni.

This artwork also shows the history of where we come from and tells the stories of what happened to us—from the times when our ancestors were living until today. It illustrates the good and the bad times we have been through as a people—politically, economically, spiritually.

As you can see in the artwork, our people were working like slaves in those days. But what is very important is that it also tells us positive stories about our ancestors, the people of those days, and how they were living back then. For example, it tells me that they liked farming. You can see the cows there. If you look here, you can see that they also liked to plant crops. Here you can see people who are walking in the bush. It tells me that they liked to hunt.

This work is very important to me because it teaches me a lot about what was happening back then; things I didn’t know before. Also, when they see the artwork, the younger generation will know our history and where we are coming from as Xhosa people."

Veliswa Mangcangaza:

"Yes, these artworks are like books, telling our stories. Our forefathers died with beautiful stories. It is important to tell these stories. This artwork tells who we are, and it tells us to take ownership of who we are because we are rich in mind. With these artworks, Keiskamma artists are taking that richness out to the world, showing the world what Xhosa women and men like Siya and Cebo can do. It’s like this collection of poems I have, written in rich and indigenous isiXhosa—poems about heroes like Mandela, Sobukwe, Mqhayi, Tambo. This is creativity with our own hands."

Nozeti Makhubalo:

"Another important work for us is the Biko Tapestry, which we call in isiXhosa, Inkokheli Yekwenene. The name means, ‘a true leader.’ In this artwork, we are honouring our hero, Steve Biko. He was born here in the Eastern Cape, in Ginsberg, on 18 December 1946. We honour him for his hard work in fighting apartheid and we are so sad for the way he died in that prison in King William’s Town, on 12 September 1977. But we are happy to see the changes that have come from his blood.

Personally, I feel like his spirit is still alive because what we have got from our democracy, comes from the pains of those heroes that died. They died on the road, on the long walk to freedom, but the next generation is enjoying that freedom. Yes, as I said, I am so sad for the way he died in prison, but I am so happy for what his blood has brought us—our democracy."

Siya Maswana:

"Just as you can see the face of Steve Biko on this artwork, if you go to East London, you can see the statue of Steve Biko next to the city hall. That is where I found out that Biko was a man among men. Back then in Biko’s time we as Black people were nowhere. There were bad things happening to us in our own country; things that were not supposed to be done. Biko put us somewhere out of nowhere. Biko and other political heroes like Nelson Mandela and Chris Hani, they fought for the Black people of this country. So, in this artwork we are trying to show the kids what was happening in this country before, in those times. We are showing the young generation who our political heroes were in those days. It gives me hope that one day other heroes will be born, to fight for our rights in this country.

Biko would have been happy to see our Democracy Tapestry, which we call Inkululeko, meaning ‘Freedom.’ It is about the Black people politically after 1994. You can see Nelson Mandela standing there. When Nelson Mandela was coming from prison, we saw him as the political hero who brought us democracy. So basically, the artwork tells the story of South Africa since 1994, when apartheid ended and we as Black people got the freedom to vote in South Africa.

You see, back then you had to walk on the street with a pass (we called it a green book, a dompas) but nowadays you can walk freely in South Africa. There are a lot of things we can do now but back then before democracy we were not supposed to do them. So, to me, democracy means a lot—it affected my life. We have free education these days, we have social grants. A lot of things are happening freely. We are a free people."

Nomfundo Makubalo:

"I remember that during apartheid it was difficult. The shop in our area was far away. When you were asked to go and buy bread, the Black people were sold only brown bread and there were two sides in the shop—one side for Blacks and one side for whites. The whites could get white bread on their side.

You always had to have your dompas with you. If you did not have it, you got arrested.

Now, I am older and apartheid is gone. Life is easier. I love to breed chickens and pigs. I love to plant crops and work in the garden as well. I feel happy and healthy when I eat crops from my own garden.

When I come from work, I check on my chickens to see if they are all there because there is an animal that eats our chickens. I then go to the pigs and give them some water. I feed them later, at 5 p.m. I then go and collect water and boil it for making supper and washing dishes. Then at last I can sleep."

Veronica Betani:

"It is because of democracy that our kids can go to school and get stationery. They also get feeding schemes at schools now. So, I am thankful for democracy. Thank you to Keiskamma Art Project for producing such a lovely artwork."

Nomathansanqa Mavela:

"I was not born free but by the time I had finished high school in Hamburg, apartheid had ended. I was able to do a business management course at Boston College in East London and I have grown in confidence through my business skills. I am a firm believer in the words of Nelson Mandela, that ‘education is the most powerful weapon we can use to change the world.’ My firstborn will graduate from Tshwane University of Technology in 2025 with a degree in civil engineering, my second child is at Amitek High School in East London and my two youngest children are at Hamburg Primary School. "

Veronica Betani:

"Yes, we would not be where we are today without democracy.
Looking at the Democracy Tapestry again, I remember those long queues, and that when we got to those voting points in 1994 you were not allowed to vote if you did not have a bar-coded ID that means you are a South African."

Nokuzola Mvaphantsi:

"Now, when you have an ID, you have the right to work here in Hamburg. This artwork reminds me of the olden days and how the IDs were made. You would often be given the incorrect name or surname and age, sometimes even if you said them. Also, when we were taught in school, we were taught in Afrikaans for all the subjects—something that has changed now. Mandela brought us freedom."

Siya Maswana:

"Still to me, Nelson Mandela is the only person who truly symbolises democracy in South Africa."

Veronica Betani:

"Yes, we miss Baba Madiba. Much as I am thankful for democracy, as time goes on it seems that there are still a lot of bad things happening in this country—too many drugs and gangsters killing people and blood flowing through the streets. Also now we are seeing the effects of climate change, which brings suffering too. Comparing the present with the way life was in Hamburg before, we see that if it's raining, it rains too much; if it's sunny, the sun is too much, and it's hurting some people.

We are watching ourselves going to hell, burning in hell. "

Nombulelo Jack:

"For many women especially, life on this earth can feel like hell. The Women’s Charter Tapestries show how in the olden days our mothers were exploited. They grew up in a time where it was difficult for them to go to school so they started doing badly paid jobs like domestic work and they were discriminated against in the workplace. For our fathers it was better than for our mothers. When our mothers were young, their parents would always say, ‘You are girl child, and you cannot do certain things.’ For example, they would say a girl child could not go to university because then they (the patents) would feel like they are being left behind and it was not a nice feeling for them, to feel less educated. Also, the girls had to do work in the home, cooking and cleaning. The parents would say, ‘What will you do there, at university?’ Now, we do not have that issue so much. Things have changed. We take our girl children to university, and they get an education. Back then it was very difficult. That is why a lot of women back then did not have an education, unlike men."

Nontando Madlingozi:

"Yes, our mothers would maybe be domestic workers during the day. Then, when they came home in the evening, the dirty pots would be waiting for them. They always had to be cooking and doing all the household chores. They had to first go to the river to collect water and they would have to carry the child on their back. Then they would have to collect firewood and carry it on their head while carrying the baby on their back. When they were doing garden work, they would have to keep an eye on the baby they had placed under a tree so the child didn’t get attacked by a snake. And they would have to layer the floors of the house with cow dung. Those are the kinds of things. Woman were struggling and not living an easy life, so I understand. Back then women had to birth a lot of children—maybe eight to fifteen children. That was not right. It was a sad thing that our mothers had to be pregnant constantly and give birth to so many children. Our mothers were really suffering back then. "

Eunice Mangwane:

"Also, speaking of women’s rights, a woman has no say over her name when she becomes a makoti. When a woman marries into another family, once the lady is married into that family their name changes. My name is Eunice Nombulelo, but once I got married that is only my name on my ID. I have another name from my in-laws. In our Keiskamma Altarpiece, you can see the makoti with her blue outfit, pinned up shawl and black scarf on the head. He is just wearing his pants and shirt and she has to wear this hot outfit no matter the weather. The woman must wear a long skirt so that the other men don’t see. He can look cool and gallivant while you cook and clean and look after the children. Once you get married the in-laws expect you to deliver and do the work. Whether it affects your health or not it does not matter. I say sometimes gender-based violence is a big topic now, but it was always there; it has a name now but before it was seen as normal."

Nokuzola Mvaphantsi:

"For us growing up it was also difficult because there were many of us at home. I was the youngest child. What made me unhappy was that I was not attending school. I could not go because of poverty. I would stay at home with my grandmother and grandfather. My grandfather was a bubbly old man who loved to laugh and make conversation. He would stand in the yard and when he saw someone walking down the road he would shout, “Heey! Mr so-and-so, come closer!” and he would stand there with them for hours talking. Meanwhile I would be in the house taking care of my grandmother, doing dishes, cleaning, cooking. There would be school goers that I would need to make food for when they returned home from school and I would have to wash my grandmother and make sure she had taken her medication."

Nombulelo Jack:

"Things are better now; we live a better and easier life now without struggling. You can get married and have just three children and go to work to provide for your children and send them to school. It’s not like back then. "

Veronica Betani:

"The Women’s Charter Tapestries are also a protest against gender-based violence. My mother had a very difficult marriage. She was physically and emotionally abused by my father. So, these artworks, The Women’s Charter Tapestries, really speak to me. I remember it was in the afternoon. My mom was coming back from work that day, and she was tired. My father was like a lion, roaring with anger. We did not know what the cause was. He beat her with a walking stick. My mother was pregnant at the time, but my father didn’t pay much attention to that. I remember my mother was crying in pain and was asking us, begging us, to go outside, telling us she loves us. We went outside so that we didn’t see what was happening to her. We heard the stick hitting her and we heard her cry out and then there was silence. My father came out to smoke outside, leaving my mother inside. We walked back in and we could smell the pool of blood she was lying in. She was no longer crying but moaning in pain. She carried on telling us she loved us. Then the neighbours arrived to help. They said that she had lost the baby she was carrying."

Nombulelo Jack:

"That is a very sad story that Vero tells about her mother. GBV is still happening today. It reminds me of my first boyfriend; we met in 2016 when I was in my early twenties. We got along and loved each other, but then in 2018 the mistake happened, and I fell pregnant. It was not my aim to get pregnant, but it happened. I told my boyfriend. As time went on, he started saying he was not the one who impregnated me and every time I visited him, he would talk about this issue that he is not the father. I stopped visiting him because he kept denying the baby and wouldn’t believe that I was not seeing anyone else. He became very rude to me and he was so tall, it was scary."

Lisa Nyongo:

"It’s like my boyfriend in the past. I was living with this boyfriend, and it was nice sometimes, when he was friendly, but he had this habit of swearing, saying hurtful words and nearly beating me. He would go and see friends or go to work and when he came back, he would ask who I was talking to and who I was with during the day. Sometimes he would go to the tavern and when he came back to the house, he would be violent and drag the blankets, even if I was sleeping. He would demand to know who I was sleeping with, and he would turn the house upside down checking everywhere. He always used to accuse me of cheating. "

Pumza Magoswana:

"Me too. I was far from home. I was in Joburg staying there with my boyfriend, I fell pregnant with a baby boy, and I came back to bury my mother because she had just passed on. I think after six months I went back because I was not working here, and I needed to support my child. We stayed together and it was fine, but the time came when he was drunk. When he had money, he would go to the tavern and stay there until late at night, he would come back and make a noise and say whatever he wanted to me because he knew I had nobody around to protect me and I didn’t have money and I was not working. I depended on him and so I had to be nice. I could not speak or shout. I had to listen so I could get money for the child and groceries for the house."

Qhama Ngwendu:

"When I first started to have a child, I was not ready, and the father of the child did not even have time for me even when I told him I was pregnant. He was denying the child, so I had to move from Gqeberha to live in Hamburg with my mother. That stressed me a lot and I always had headaches until I gave birth, even when I would be sleeping, and my mother would try help me and she gave me medication to take but it would not help. I would wonder how I would take care of my child because my mother was not working at the time, but luckily, I came to the sewing project, and I asked for a job and got it. That enabled me to take care of my child and the stress headaches went away."