Whisper some more, I'm listening

I AM here because of all those gallant sons and daughters of our liberation struggle in their diversity - politically, artistically, theologically, culturally, academically and scientifically.

Each one sacrificed a normal existence to give their children and through them, their children's children, a place in the sun of the global family, free from want; free to dream; free to sing; free to write; free to publish without apology.

I am here also because of TD Mweli Skota who, exactly 79 years ago - in March 1932 - planted the seeds of black publishing when he wrote in his newspaper African Leader: "If we must be respected by other people we must have control of our own shops, insurance companies, banks and other business places . the backbone of any nation is business."

It was Ntate Skota who rebranded the organisation of which he was general secretary at one time, giving it a Pan Africanist identity, from the South African Native National Congress, into one that next year will be celebrating its centenary - the African National Congress.

I therefore dedicate the honour bestowed on me to Ntate Trevor Dan Mweli Skota.

There are so many people, too numerous to name, without whom this honour would have been but a dream.

Before attempting to blow my own vuvuzela, may I introduce my dramatis personae, to be accompanied in counterpoint by my musical guru on alto sax and clarinet, the father of jazz in South Africa, Morolong Jeremiah Moeketsi, otherwise affectionately known as Bra Kippie?

Here is Obra Willie Shakespeare, who tells me matter-of-factly about the seven ages of man. Listen:

All the world's a stage

And all the men and women merely players,

They have their exits and entrances.

The poet's poet TS Eliot, tongue-in-cheek, charges forth:

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;

Am an attendant lord, one that will do

To swell a progress, start a scene or two,

Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,

Deferential, glad to be of use,

Politic, cautious, and meticulous;

Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;

At times, indeed, almost ridiculous -

Almost, at times, the fool.

Frantz Fanon, as if in response, let loose a mean solo full-throatedly: "Each generation must discover its mission, fulfill it or betray it, in relative opacity.

And now shall we ask Bantu Stephen Biko to ascend the bridge and remind us that: "In time, we shall be in a position to bestow on South Africa the greatest possible gift - a more human face."

Amilcar Cabral, also assassinated in the prime of his life, had declared: "A people who free themselves from foreign domination will not be culturally free unless, without underestimating the importance of positive contributions from the oppressor's cultures, they return to the upwards paths of their own culture."

Enter Sipho Sepamla, the teacher who became a poet, who admonishes us: "I want to wake one morning and say clean up the mess."

Ntate Es'kia Mphahlele, our father, our mentor, our guiding light, walking down 7th Avenue in Marabastad, chants in unbroken song: "Reconstructing the myth is also a process of reassembling the fragments of Africa into a whole and single consciousness."

Because, Rre Solomon Tshekisho Plaatje, sang in his tenor solo: "Awaking on Friday morning, June 20, 1913, the South African native found himself not actually a slave, but a pariah in the land of his birth."

Reverend Pambani Jeremiah Mzimba, in a defiant double bass intoned: "The child itself feels it must walk, it stumbles and falls, takes one step at a time, but the end result is that it walks."

And right on cue Lebogang Mashile sings angelically:

Every child, my child is

Wrapped in a ribbon of

Rhythm.

The greatest poet in all of Africa, Mazisi Kunene, in a booming voice called age of the ancestors informs us:

And our forefathers shall not be deceived

They shall not follow the thief's song:

And their children shall awake

And all things beautiful and young and wise

Shall inherit their greatness!

Assertively, Vuyiswa Tulelo would respond in a mezzo-soprano: "I want to wake up in a society where being young is not a sign of chaos, disrespect and laziness, but where it is appreciated, where my energies are propelled into a positive transformation agenda, where the foot soldier for the development of my country is me, where today, tomorrow belongs to me as much as it belongs to my mother."

But then, the healer in my 16-language forthcoming children's book Viva Tau! The Musical Safari, comprising the 11 official tongues; French, Portuguese, Kiswahili, Arabic and most importantly Khoekhoegoab - accompanied by Lesego and the Jaziel brothers, brings it all together.

In a vibrating soprano, MamNgoma half recites, half chants:

I hear things that most people refuse to listen to.

I feel emotions many people ignore or will never even touch.

I see things other people would never dream of.

I am a mother who has not given birth.

I am a father who is without seed.

I interpret, dissect, analyse and organise.

I am a sister who is also your brother.

I explain and balance spiritual feelings.

Whisper some more, I am listening.

Now I take leave:

Or rather, we shall now take leave, my cast and I, and leave you to ponder on our recital, courtesy of the Unisa family under the leadership of the principal and vice-chancellor, Professor Mandla Makhanya.

Please whisper, I am listening.

Not because I am shy or tongue-tied. But because listening is an art rarely appreciated.

• The writer is the founder of Skotaville Publishers, co-founder of the literary magazine Staff-rider, and now chairperson of the Mutloatse Arts Heritage Trust. This is an edited version of the speech Mutloatse delivered when Unisa conferred an honorary degree on him.