Their beautiful behinds: Rethinking Cape Town’s memorial landscape
Is this not the right time to disrupt or transform Cape Town’s memorial landscape?
Even though I was not at the frontline in the Rhodes Must Fall movement at the University of Cape Town, one of the favourite stories I tell friends is I was there to witness the statue of Cecil John Rhodes being taken down from the pedestal it had sat on for decades. I speak of the historic occasion with pride and respect for the comrades who took part in the movement. I had followed all the action, as well as the robust debates in the build-up to that fateful day.
The common argument is always that monuments are part of our history, and serve to remind society of the good and the bad things that happened in the past. They inform and educate today’s generations. Those who don’t want to see them pulled down either suggest that contextual alterations should be made around them to make people aware of the terrible deeds committed by the memorialized individuals, or they should remain in situ with no changes whatsoever as though the evil that they committed was just interred with their bones.
Now as I watch statues of problematic historical figures tumbling down like a domino in the United Kingdom, Belgium, and United States of America in the wake of the sadistic murder of George Floyd by a callous policeman, I cannot stop thinking of the statues on the cityscape of Cape Town. Indeed, in 2015 the statue of Cecil John Rhodes was removed from the centre of the University of Cape Town, but another one still stands right in the middle of the Company’s Garden, less than a hundred metres from the nation’s parliament building. The architect of the colonization of South Africa was none other than Jan Van Riebeeck. His statue stands near the water fountain on Adderley Street, next to that of his wife, Maria. Next to the Slave Lodge is a giant statue of Jan Smuts, and another one stands right in front of the Iziko South African National Gallery. That of Louis Botha stands right at the main entrance to South Africa’s House of Parliament. I wish someone could explain why Cape Town needs the statue of King Edward at the Grand Parade and that of Queen Victoria in the parliament garden. All these statues are mounted on pedestals that dwarf us all and enhance their visibility.
I have heard suggestions that it’s better to create bronze statues of Black heroes to rival the existing ones. I am not for the idea because the tradition of bronze casts has its problems, and it is something Africans should not just appropriate or imitate. I would agree with those who say statues belong to museums like the rest of the archives in storage there. How about collecting all these statues and putting them in a park modeled along the lines of the Memento Park in Budapest where statues of communist heroes are dumped. Will that park not become an exciting tourist attraction? For Cape Town, the centre of the Castle of Good Hope — the old military castle adjacent to the Grand Parade has ample space for a version of the Memento Park (visit my model on Prezi).
It was great to hear that the South African government paid condolences to the Floyd family and urged the U.S. authorities to make sure there will be justice for George. Millions of South Africans embraced Black Lives Matter, even though they were challenged by those who are baffled by their silences in the wake of recurring xenophobic attacks targeted at African immigrants living in their country. The senseless cold-blooded killing of George Floyd has led to the western world damascene moment as seen through the toppling of statues of problematic historical figures. I do not see the reason why it is not driving the locals to rethink the memorial landscape of Cape Town and other cities. I see nothing wrong with a new world order where colonizers and murderers are not glorified.
By the way, I am writing this critique from University Currently Known As Rhodes, an institution still keen on preserving the arch-imperialist’s name (and legacy)!
