Class: Ethnomusicology

Music as Expression

By 1970, the apartheid regime had been in place for over 20 years. There had been forced removals, continued economic exploitation, development of townships, and legal segregation. At this point, different musical styles and protest songs had been used in the course of the anti-apartheid political struggle and township life. Not all music necessarily had a specific identification with politics. Very often the music that developed during this period was not sung with a specific message to challenge political structure, but simply to express the musical part of a culture and to appreciate and embrace a person’s identity. One of the most oppressive and disheartening effects of the policies under the apartheid regime in South Africa was the dismantling of identity. Government officials, police, and the overall socioeconomic structure stripped away the identity of Africans, Coloureds, and Indians through forced removals, cultural dominance, and economic exploitation. Whiteness, in all its complexities, was deemed normal, appropriate, and desirable, while anything besides that was deemed less valuable and secondary. Despite so many restrictions on the lifestyle and livelihood of so many people, song served as an expression of identity that could not be eliminated. The identity expressed through music also came in the form of affirmation of a black identity. In the midst of spiritual and material suffering that tarnished ‘blackness,’ people would use songs to celebrate their identity. During the student protests of the mid-1970s in Soweto, an iconic song of the time had the simple and powerful lyrics, “You are strong. You are black. You are beautiful” (Amandla! 2002) The song was directed at the students involved in the youth movement affirming their identity and the validity of the cause they were fighting for.
Music, whether it was directly political or not, was an influential part of peoples’ lives during the struggle. Often unintentionally, music by itself could be resistance to the regime. One musician interviewed in the film Amandla! says, “How do you stop people from singing? They tried everything, but how do you stop people from singing” (Amandla! 2002). This sentiment was echoed in conversation by Grace Ngcete, a lifetime Grahamstown resident, member of the National Organization for Women, and manager of Ethembeni Senior Service Centre in Grahamstown. “They [whites] stayed on their side of town, we [blacks] stayed on our side of town. That’s how it worked,” she said very bluntly. “Maybe we didn’t always have much, but we could sing. Maybe not in public all of the time, but sure, in church, in our homes, in the township.” Grace acknowledged that certain songs in certain parts of town could get her arrested, but singing in general could not be stopped. Though it may not have always been specifically oriented towards the politics of the day, singing for Grace and others could be a rejection of limitations. Joseph Madolo, a current Grahamstown resident, self-ascribed singer and performer, and member at Ethembeni Senior Service Centre in Grahamstown, finds inspiration in song no matter the time of day or depth of struggle or physical environment. “Yes, man! Ukucula! [Xhosa word for “to sing”] To sing! What a good song, man. It is very good to sing. It’s what I love to do. Sing. I won’t be stopped from doing what I love.” Mr. Madolo then broke out into an improvisational tune, half in English and half in Xhosa. Song, no matter the magnitude of its politicisation carried a powerful message of celebration and affirmation.