25/7/2016
Today I’ve learned firsthand what cultural appropriation really is about. It was a very awkward moment to say the least. I have a colleague who is a white South African. Let’s call her Cara. Cara wants to show our Japanese students African dance moves on Shakira’s Waka Waka song. That song was huge worldwide during the 2010s Football World Cup in South Africa. The fact that Shakira had become the face of the World Cup in South Africa is already problematic to itself. Picture this - a Colombian singer representing Africa. Today I took the time to research the lyrics of this song for the first time. It baffled me that she even used Spanish in the song. The original is a Cameroonian song called Zamina mina (Zangaléwa) It’s a 1986 hit song, originally sung by a makossa group from Cameroon originally named Golden Sounds, popular in Africa for their use of dance and costumes. The international media has given zero attention to the original. I feel that Shakira totally butchered the lyrics of this song. She made billions off this song and every time people hear this song, they won’t think of the World Cup in Africa, but of Shakira.
Fast forward to 2016 and me witnessing up close what cultural appropriation means. So, my white South African colleague asked me how she should go about showing the students the dance moves to this song. While I think to myself “Well, you’re the South African expert, you should know”, I shrug my shoulders and tell her that I have no idea. She is quick to say that Waka Waka is not even a real African song, while she studies my face for any reaction. I just have the image of Shakira dancing to this song, with the South African group called Freshly Ground, and I think to myself: “How is that not really an African song?” See, how quickly people tend to forget that the song has African roots, because a platinum blonde Colombian singer made a remake of the original.
I just look at her and pretend ignorance. She then goes on YouTube on her smartphone to watch a how-to-dance-instruction video of Waka Waka, by funny enough, white dancers. At this point, she even adds that she also wants to do a Zulu dance move. Characteristic of South African Zulu dance is rhythmic legs and feet work and smooth hip movements.
I am starting to feel sorry for this poor thing and I tell her that I have a Congolese headwrap in my luggage and that if she wants I could wrap it around her head for an extra African je ne sais quoi. As soon as, I suggest this, I want to take my words back. Why should I help her in culturally appropriating something that isn’t even her culture. She is a white South African with Dutch ancestry and a proud Boer with all its connotations. As we are walking to the hall where about 60 Japanese students await us eagerly to learn South African dance moves from a white South African, she asks me if I want to join her up front for support. I decline. I ask her if she’s afraid to do it on her own, upon which she replies with a big “NO!” as she turns around and marches to the front. It’s a pity my sharp tongue made it reappearance, a little too late. As we walk in, all eyes are on us. I wore a real Zulu necklace as a headband. She then starts to explain the dance moves to the students. The music goes on and on. Everyone is having fun, no one really takes this seriously in any case. Then she goes on to do her signature Zulu move, which is a complete fail, but no one would know that, unless you had seen the original Zulu dance moves. Her’s resembles someone doing a jumping jack with stiff legs after an elaborate body workout the day before. The kids love it and even the teachers join in. The most uneasy feeling comes over me as I watch this scene. I feel totally out of place. Am I not the one with the African genes? Am I not the one who is supposed to be the real authentic African? I guess this is how cultural appropriation feels like for those being culturally appropriated.
Totally unrelated but this picture made me chuckle when I cam across this billboard in Sendai.
Comments