HEINDRICH WYNGAARD | Reply to Jonathan Jansen: ‘Kanna’ came home to the Flats and wrote about it ― unfortunately

In his groundbreaking play Kanna, hy kô hystoe (“Kanna, he’s coming home”), published in 1965 in the “Kaaps” dialect of the Afrikaans language, Adam Small tells the story of an adopted son, Kanna, who leaves home to study, emigrates to Canada ― and never permanently returns home again.

Described by the online Encyclopaedia of South African Theatre, Film, Media and Performance as “upsetting, but superbly moving”, it covers issues such as “voluntary exile, forced removals and the trials and tribulations of a ‘coloured’ family”.

Out of these circumstances, emerges the character Kanna, who briefly returns from his adopted home for the funeral of the play’s matriarch, his grootmaakma, or guardian, Makiet, a poor woman from the Coloured working-class communities of the Cape Flats.

The Cape Flats, however, is no longer considered by Kanna as “home”; as with all those benefiting from upward mobility, rising from the ashes of poverty to the echelons of privilege, he is but a visitor now.

What made me think about the play, celebrating its 50th anniversary this year, is the piece written by Jonathan Jansen on how he has in recent months been “thoroughly traumatised” by Cape Flats funerals. He bemoans the “predictable chaos” and “rank opportunism”; and he humours us about all the bestakels, or emotional and dramatic behaviour of funeral-goers.

Oh, and then, a lekker shot of stereotyping about the ― unnamed but implied in his piece ― (in)famous “passion gap” when he refers to mispronunciations such as “rus” for rush (“if you have all your teeth”) and “fus” for fuss.

This is all too much for Jansen: an esteemed educationalist who grew up on the Cape Flats, must now suffer through three-and-a-half hours and longer at a funeral with ― Father forgive them! ― a “highly flexible programme” dragging on and on and with “hypocritical” tributes being delivered, instantly eliminating the sins of the gangster, wife beater and prison-frequenting druggie.

Which is why Jansen likes “how white people die in South Africa”. No coffin; no body. Cremation is, to him, “cool”; and the scattering of ashes over Camps Bay provides a light moment with some of the family members swallowing grandma “when the wind goes the wrong way”. That is juxtaposed with the kind of “swallowing” at Cape Flats funerals ― munching away at all the food, even if you didn’t even attend the actual funeral or knew the deceased.

Of course, Jansen, academic, author and speaker, is showered with opportunities of all kinds.

The reader is expected to make up their own mind about the writer’s intentions, on whether this was meant to be a serious piece, which is how it starts, or whether it was meant as satire. It is a tricky task.

Admittedly, most of what Jansen describes, is accurate. What is missing, though, is context ― that is, an acknowledgement that we are dealing here with a specific cultural ritual, accepted in Coloured communities as part of the send-off for the deceased.

Naturally, the way in which it is done differs: “rich” funerals seem more rigid; “poorer” ones appear more “entertaining” or ― to quote Jansen ― predictably chaotic. It all really depends on the socio-economic level of the departed’s family.

Then there is the matter of “rank opportunism”. What system thinkers, such as Dr Morne Mostert, points out is how this observation lays bare “a community system that lacks opportunity”.

Quite possibly, the funeral becomes a rare opportunity for the “atrocious” soloist to perform in front of a crowd, for a hungry “mourner” to have an only meal for the day and for the preacher to show off his skills ― the latter often people with low levels of formal education, as Jansen mentions in his memoir Breaking Bread, coupled with the church offering “ample opportunities for leadership development”.

Of course, Jansen, academic, author and speaker, is showered with opportunities of all kinds.

One example is the opportunity to write columns, in which he now recounts his experience of funerals on the Cape Flats. The way in which he does it, regrettably exposes him as a “Kanna”, defined as an educated Coloured person who moves away from home, whether it is on the Cape Flats or other areas. When they return, it is only as a brief stop-over, such as for funerals (or weddings), on which occasion they munch away on a plate of stereotypical humour ― before they return to their secure outposts of Coloured privilege.

Heindrich Wyngaard leads the civil society organisation Cape Forum. He is an award-winning TV presenter, speaker and founder of the online community news platform Mondstuk Media