There are two words commonly used in South Africa which I really, really can’t stand. The one is the word “comrade”. The other one is the word “bokkie”.
“Bokkie” is often used in insipid Afrikaans love songs by commercial singers (presumably because it rhymes with “sokkie”). In that way, it fulfils the same function that the word “baby” (which rhymes with “maybe”), fulfils in English songs (though I’m not sure why anyone has ever considered it a matter of urgency to find rhyming words for “sokkie” or “maybe”).
Bear in mind, though, that words like “bokkie” and “baby” are never used by normal people in normal conversation. They are nonsensical pop music mannerisms. Show me an average Afrikaans bloke who actually calls his girlfriend “bokkie”, and I show you a potential serial killer! As for the word “baby”, the last time I heard about it being used in a remotely romantic context was when a drunken township dweller made a clumsy pass at Helen Zille the other day. The media should probably be blamed for that one, though.
The Afrikaans music scene, as everyone knows, is an enormously large, overblown, bloated industry with an immense number of performing artists of which only a minuscule small percentage is remotely talented. Yes! I myself personally know a handful of Afrikaans singers with real talent. I truly envy them. I also pity them. I find it heartbreakingly sad that the careers of this tiny minority should be stigmatised by the larger collective of performers who compulsively use words like “bokkie” to cover up their lack of song-writing skills.
The real problem with the Afrikaans music scene, however, is not just the fact that most of the music is crap. After all, you get crap music everywhere, even in America (well, especially in America). What bothers me about the Afrikaans music scene is that the entire thing sort of exists in a bubble somewhere in outer space, removed from the lives of ordinary South Africans (who have the good sense to prefer Dollar Brand and Nomfusi).
In those heady days of yore when we started the tradition of popular Afrikaans music, we had a dream that, one day, young Afrikaans musicians would join hands with young musicians of other races and find a common voice. What has happened instead is this: the entire Afrikaans music scene has turned in upon itself, creating clone after clone, growing like a cancer on our cultural landscape, isolating itself from real people and real events. Most Afrikaans singers nowadays either sing about clichés like true love and pretty seagulls or they swear and vloek and gaan aan like the terrible vieslike rotten scoundrels they’d like to imagine they are. Afrikaans musicians are either shamelessly commercial or unbearably decadent. In the end, unfortunately, most of that glibness and most of that decadence is only skin-deep. It’s all just a bunch of gimmicks. There is a conspicuous lack of heartfelt passion and true desperation.
As for the word “comrade”; I have made some enquiries about the origin of this word. Like the word “vodka”, it was originally Russian. The precise meaning of the word, according to my dictionary, is “buddy, pal, brother”. Whilst, nowadays, the word “vodka” means exactly what it has always meant (praise God for that) the meaning of “comrade” has radically altered. Gone are the good old days when all white men were perceived as evil oppressive right-wingers and all black men were perceived as noble freedom fighters! During the last few weeks, we have seen erstwhile comrades turn upon one another in bare-fanged fury as the tripartite alliance started imploding in a terrifying explosion of recriminations, anger and even anarchy. So much so that, to most people, the very mention of the word “comrade” nowadays evokes embarrassment and scorn.
I find it impossible to choose sides in such a dirty battle where normal rules of conduct are no longer respected, where innocent members of the public are either used as cannon fodder or ignored like waste matter. People have died and are dying — some of them children — and for these atrocities the entire ANC is ultimately accountable. Of course the teachers and nurses have a right to decent pay, but no trade union has the right to try and force its non-striking members to take part in their agenda of brutal destabilisation. In the end, the behaviour of Cosatu and the government is reprehensible, and — dare I use the word? — astonishingly uncivilised.
Coming so soon after the success of the soccer World Cup, this comedy of errors has taken absolutely everyone outside the tripartite alliance by total surprise. Frankly, we did not see it coming.
What the top-heavy and bloated ANC, on the one hand, and the ruthless, barbaric Cosatu, on the other hand, have in common is an unpardonable disregard for the rights of innocent bystanders. This is a matter of comrades targeting comrades. No-one else counts in this highly exclusive brawl. Normal South Africans — those who are simply called “Mr So-and-So” or “Mrs So-and-So” instead of “Comrade So-and-So” have absolutely no say in this matter. They are, presumably, not part of the so-called “masses”. As in so many prior political revolutions that have gone haywire throughout history, the rights of the individual are trampled underfoot in the name of some theoretical collective freedom.
This has caused me sleepless nights, I tell you. This state of affairs has brought me close to tears so often I cannot even begin to describe the angst, the pain, the disillusionment I have been feeling.
Until last night.
Yes! Last night I woke up, promptly at three in the morning, with the solution etched plainly in my head like a sign from God.
There is a way out of the quagmire South Africa has dragged itself down to. And the solution is so simple it’s almost laughable. Not only will this idea, if implemented, set the ANC back on track in no time, it will sommer save the Afrikaans music industry from its dreadful isolation as well.
Parliament must, without further ado, make a law that will force everyone to switch around the words “bokkie” and “comrade”.
From henceforth, according to this new law, whenever an Afrikaans singer feels the need to use the word “bokkie”, he must substitute the word “comrade” in its place.
This will teach Afrikaans singers to put their country before their personal careers, to pay a bit more attention to the collective, and to start working together for the good of everyone.
The new law will also mean that, whenever comrades address each other, whether that may be at an ANCYL meeting, or in the foyer of a five-star Sandton hotel, or in Harrods, London, they will be forced to call one another “bokkie” instead of “comrade”.
In that way, they might just start realising how silly their bickering really is. They will also be reminded of the value of true affection. They will simply be unable to take themselves seriously.
Once this switchover has been made, not only will we have wonderful new hit songs such as “Comrade ek wil jou hê”, “Rooi-Rok-Comrade” and “Comrade ons moet huis toe gaan”, but we will have cadres urging one another on with slogans such as “bokkie, let’s march!”, “all bokkies should stand together!”, and “no individual bokkie shall have power over the collective bokkie-dom!”.
Very, very soon, both the revolutionary movement and the Afrikaans music industry will simply fizzle out and die, and, once that happens, of course, we will have our country back to normal.
Come on, bokkie Zuma, bokkie Vavi and bokkie Malema, let’s settle this nonsense once and for all and pass this law right away!
Ag bokkie Koos wil jy nie my comrade wees nie?
I am a South African living abroad, in Paris, like one of our “comrades” Breyten, who I believe is now living with his “bokkie” in the homeland. I could not agree more that afrikaans music has marginilised itself and is most definantly living on another planet. It is sad to see people mimicking the hyper-reality of a culture instead of creating culture as such. “Bokkie” in this case lends itself to rhyming with “nie”, after which we have to use “nie” again because afrikaans grammer uses the double negative – very depressing – The “kiwis” don’t call there women “blackies” and the Greeks don’t call there women “goaties”, so why “bokkie”? Why don’t we call the Springboks “bokkies”? I am sure that “Vleis Visagie” would be deliighted to be called a “bokkie”. Then all the rugby supporters could brandish the slogan “bokkies knaai” and not “bokke knaai”. Let’s call the rugby team the “comrades” and soon we will have songs with the word “comradtjie”
This all makes me think of the James Phillips song, “My broken heart”.
Briljant.
Dis Al.
Hahahaha – a great read as always, Koos! I actually named my Bulldog Bokkie, and since now live in the US, you can just imagine the Americans trying to pronounce her name. (I also have a Bulldog called Tembu, and two horses named Shaka and Jabulani – more challenges for my American friends!) I actually enjoy alot of the current Afrikaans music – certainly more than any new American music …!
Fokken snaaks, as usual.
Maar wat gebeur as een van die blou-bul cheerleaders die communist party join? Is dit comrade bokkie, or bokkie comrade?
Nou lekker gelag. Briljante idee.
Who said ordinary South African could not define and articulate the solutions to the “problems” we face.
Jy sal altyd my bokkiee wees!
Bravo! Maybe you should be our president instead. Bokkie Koos for President!
Hehe – true ubuntu, that. Someone called Zille a bokkie? I wish I could have taken a picture of her face. Although, she has been called worse, by worse eh… bokkies.
I think the problem lies in the language itself. It binds us, even while we think we are taking poetic licence.
I have it on good communist faith that the word “comrade”, as used by commies, was the brainchild of dear old Willem Wikkelspies, as in “comrades in arms”. Don’t ask me which play.
Bokkie’s English equivalent is actually “dear” that dear old Victorian term od endearment. Both meaning “buck”, basically, something to be hunted for the pot. Call me crazy but this is what a women’s lower appendages look like to me on high heels, buck legs.
I guess we have to learn to be more careful how we use words least they binds us to their explicit meanings.
I’m afraid mr. Zuma might get confused with all his bokkies and comrades. Great piece!
Quote:
Coming so soon after the success of the soccer World Cup, this comedy of errors has taken absolutely everyone outside the tripartite alliance by total surprise. Frankly, we did not see it coming.
Unquote
Of COURSE some of us did – indeed, and when we said so we were called negative racist naysayers – unreconstituted dinosaur elitist and worse (if you can imagine such a thing!)
The beloved SWC was done with mirrors under a cloud of organic substances best not mentioned in a family paper and it was actually nauseating in the extreme to those of us who abstained.
Now the hangover has barely started – wait for SASCO to demand pass-one pass-all or what if the grave diggers go on strike?
We truly are the envy of Africa
all SA a stage
A nightmare production with Tannie Evita at the helm (we should be so lucky)
How about “lurve”? All ya need is lurve; lurve is all ya need..”
It rhymes with cool stuff like “curve” and “swerve” and “nerve”.
Doncha lurve it?
Nice one Koos:)
and once again I die laughing at Oom Koos. Completely agree on the switch. new songs will need lyrics and thus there will be a period of about 8 months before all the songs use the same rhyme to get the same thing said…
Careful, you might create a combok…
Carla what does Thembu mean? Did you mean to call your dog Themba or Mthembu. What language is that?
Dit is briljant!
They definitely have something in common: Afrikaans music sadly doesn’t really export except to Afrikaaners who’ve run the rat race and mainly forsaken their home language. As we saw from the UK press, Zuma and his bokkies don’t export too well either. I wonder whether good Queen Liz will be prepared to give Zuma enough audiences to allow all his wives to meet her just once? And would she thereafter (with craven apologies for the bad taste of this little jest) be able to tell them apart?
Ek dink my bokkie is baie mooi & lekker. Lyk my Koos is ‘n ou suurgat.
K Fourie
Genius
Very nice “article”, my friend.
Simple but insightful read. I totally enjoyed it and picked a few lessons on what most important! Keep up the good work!
@ K Fourie
BUSTED!
“My broken heart is all I have!”
We still miss you James
Heyta Daar
I am not sure if you see Francois & the (various machinations of) the Boys as terrible vieslike rotten scoundrels that just vloek and gaan aan but I skeem we could convince you & them to sing about some kind of comrades-bokkie-jorl.
We need you around for a bit longer Kombuis don’t pass out just yet!
I would like I’d known all this sooner. would have saved myself a great deal of problems