This Is Not Dallas, And There Is No A-Team
Ok. So…. I’m supposed to write about when I first realized I was living in SA. Unfortunately my memory is not what it should be. Too many good times, too many drugs and too many years separate me from my youth.
When I did I first realize I was living in SA?
I haven’t a clue.
A better question to ask is; when did I realize I was not living in America?
My first inkling that I was a world away from the home of the free, land of the brave was because of Afrikaans.
How come my TV displayed images in an incomprehensible language every second night? Why did the SABC logo keep changing to the SAUK logo?
I learnt from an early age to hate Afrikaans for ruining my entertainment, for devaluing our prized TV, for sounding so guttural, and dare I say it… for sounding so kak. (Which is kinda ironic cause ‘kak’ is now one of my favorite words ever.)
Another clue that I was not living in DALLAS was that our cops looked nothing as cool as Ponch and Jon from CHiPs and that I had to wear a fucking school uniform, unlike the lucky Afrikaans-free kids on TV. And not just any school uniform! Our school uniform was a bloody safari suit that made me feel Afrikaans even though I couldn’t understand a bloody word of that language. Can you imagine the horror of a hip happening Jewish kid having to dress like Boer? Oh the humility!
Looking back, though, a safari suit was a great school uniform. I didn’t have to wear a tie or tuck in my shirt. But at the time I absolutely hated it.
I only started becoming aware of a wider world in my early teens when I started reading the newspaper. It was only then I realized that my country was like no other country in the world – and that there was something seriously wrong. And it was a little thing that brought it to my attention, a tiny thing really.
Small.
Kinda like those retractions newspapers print when they’ve made an error. A small apology tucked away on the second or third page. Hardly noticeable at all amongst the horror stories and advertising.
It was those small notices informing us the newspaper had been censored by the government, that told me I was living in a very odd country, and that there was something happening I couldn’t yet comprehend. This little censorship notice was usually tucked away between two articles, or hidden somewhere on the second page.
It was a small thing, a couple of lines, but it spoke volumes to me. They told me I wasn’t getting the whole story. They told me some Afrikaans official was determining what I could and couldn’t read. And that pissed me off. Still does, I suppose. I’ve been wary of governments ever since.
Yup, a small censorship notice was all it took to open my eyes, to finally reveal that the country I was living in was not one where you could call the A-Team if you had a problem. And for a long time I hated living here, and I fucked off as soon as I could. But all that did change… I returned. I love it here. However that’s a story for another time.
That’s something I had no idea about – maybe I was too young to be reading the newspaper when those notices were in them.
Do you know when they stopped putting them in? I’d love to find a sample of them
Sometimes, I amaze even myself.
Jeepers – I remember those notices, drove me dilly trying to figure out what was missing. I suppose some of us did a pretty good job of ignoring them, a bit like ostriches with our heads in the proverbial sand.
Nice opener Cloudy.
I love this story. Thanks for the insight into a time i can’t remember Cloudgazer. Ignorance is indeed bliss isn’t it? I was a child back in the times of apartheid so don’t recall much. Perhaps this is something to be grateful for? I’m not sure.
Your story has made me question: did censorship die out with apartheid or is it still prevalent in today’s media? Sure, we may not have the fine print saying so, but if you read between the lines the media is still censored by the government and corporate big wigs. Will we ever be free of the shackles?
What I find most amusing, is on the SABC sign… hahaha “fokof dis bedtyd” haha always remember when the folks used to go out at night… This gave the chance for late night tv viewing… Only to be blocked by that stupid sign…
“He’s mean, he’s rich, his wife is a bitch!” – I wonder where we would be if American TV shows had boycotted our fair land. The dichotomy of growing up “in shackles” with a window to the free world through our TVs is strange. And yet, we (as young ‘uns) didn’t know any different/better.
I cannot understand how I never read that/noticed that Cloudy. Can it be that I never read newspapers ???
Helluva good story to kick off with mate!
Great start! Well done Cloudy!
I also never realized that there were notices in our newspapers…but then again, I never read them. I still don’t today even.
Good piece, Cloudgazeer, and a great start to this part of cyber. Thanks. It’s amazinghow much was hidden in those days. How vilified we were by the rest of the world for doing nothing when most of the time, we didn’t know what was happening.
Hehehe sweet one gazer…I think most of us if not all grew up thinking we stay somewhere except SA…pictures??? great touch…Oh ya I had no idea we use such sweet language, I guess we are not censored (hehehe wink)
Lovely Cloudy! We are so close in age that I think my experiences will be very similar to yours! Great piece to launch the site
This is so cool. Nicely written spot of almost nostalgia. Very nice.
I’m still looking for an excerpt or image of a censorship notice, will post when I find it
No censorship here, unless I’m in a bad mood
Lucky I guess, but I never minded if something was in English or Afrikaans. I listened/read whatever language it came in. I do think a few kids must have been rather shocked when they realised that the people in Beverly Hills 90210 didn’t really speak any Afrikaans.
Censorship did lead to some ingenious “underground†publications (such as Max du Preez’s Vrye Weekblad) and made books, like Paton’s Cry the Beloved Country, more popular than what it would have been otherwise.
I don’t think censorship ever achieves what it set’s out to do, this being a perfect example.
theFlipSide´s last blog ..ROMA
Afrikaans also never bothered me, I quite liked the language but being drawn to linguistics, no surprises there I guess.
I suppose that Afrikaans bothered me for the same reason that it bothered The CG, I didn’t know what was going on – and I really wanted to know what was going on in Wielie Walie, the worm always intrigued me the most.
My God, Wielie Walie! I’d forgotten about that. I would also love to know what it was about. Lewie Heksie irritated the shit out of me though.
I found something interesting and sad at the same time
http://www.nytimes.com/1990/03/18/world/south-africa-loosens-gag-and-the-press-pipes-up.html?pagewanted=all
I found something interesting, and sad at the same time
Nice try. Apart from the monotonous use of the set-up, not much to crow about. Basic. 4 out of 10.
Thanks Sarah, what do you think about the fact that we had this kind of censorship though?
Hi Sarah. Thanks for the feedback, dunno what you mean about the ’set-up’ – I’m not a professional, just an amateur hack.
This are interesting glimpses into various psyches.
I await more with interest.