Lives of Colour: The Cape Photo Album

Posted on October 18, 2011
Sometime ago the Archival Platform published an article of mine entitled "The Power of the Ordinary: The Family Archive" (16 September 2010). The article dealt with how I had set about constructing a picture of the life and times of my father, Edgar Maurice, using photographs and documents from the family archive. In the article, I mentioned that I had curated an exhibition for the South African National Gallery in 1999 called 'Lives of Colour: Images from Cape Photo Albums'. This exhibition consisted of photographs from the family photo albums of various friends and acquaintances, all of whom were classified 'coloured' during the apartheid era. These photographs were accompanied by texts based on stories told by participants in the 'Lives of Colour' project as they responded to particular photos in their albums. Using photograph and text, my intention with the exhibition was to develop a narrative of various parts about the life experiences of so-called 'coloured' people at the Cape.

Recently, while rummaging through some old files, I came across the texts that I had written for the 'Lives of Colour' exhibition, as well as reproductions of some of the photographs that were exhibited (the originals had long been returned to the owners). Some of these photographs and texts are re-presented here with a view to encouraging others to explore the family photo album as a rich resource for writing about the history, social life, culture, politics and outlook of communities.

As a child in the 1960s, Debbie Fortune* attended ballet classes run by the Eon Group, an organisation committed to promoting cultural development in the 'coloured' community. Taught by white graduates from the Ballet School at the University of Cape Town, Debbie was considered good enough to take the exams set by the Cecchetti Method Examination Board in London. To prepare for these exams, she was sent to a more advanced class at the Ockberg Hall in Hanover Street, District Six. For a 'coloured' girl, the exams were always a tricky business, as you were judged on the standards set for European classical ballet. Using Vaseline, a petroleum jelly, Debbie's mother spent hours flattening and straightening her curly hair, so that she could conform to a European look. But there was another problem that no amount of Vaseline could flatten - her bum. To look the part of a classical ballet dancer, you needed a flat derriére. Being of mixed descent, Debbie just didn't have what was required by the English judges. Made to feel self-conscious about her protruding backside, she never made the grade.

*A fictitious name, as the owner of the photograph wants to remain anonymous. Some still find aspects of the past under apartheid difficult to deal with.

In spite of the restrictions of apartheid, 'coloured' people at the Cape celebrated their lives to the full. The photograph on the right shows a group of close friends, all married women from Woodstock. Every few months or so, these women lived it up at a house party thrown by one of the friends. For each occasion, a theme was chosen. The theme for this night of revelry was 'Hot Pants Party', in keeping with the fashion of the late 1960s and 1970s. But behind the joie de vivre and gay abandon, lies a sad story. Of the six women shown in the photograph, half applied for reclassification from 'coloured' to white because it seemed to be a way of moving up in the world. This placed enormous strain on their friendships, leading to the end of their theme parties.

Recruited by the ANC, Ashley Forbes left for Angola in 1986 to be trained in guerrilla warfare. When he returned to Cape Town, the security police already knew about the cell in which he was operating. While they were on his track, they, however, didn't know what he looked like. All they knew was that his name was Ashley and that he lived in his mother's house in Park Road, Wynberg. In their search for information about him, the family house was raided and turned upside down on many occasions. Harassed and victimised, Mrs Forbes did what she had to in order to protect her son's identity - she destroyed every photo of him that she could lay her hands on.

Ashley was eventually caught. Charged with terrorism, he was sentenced to fifteen years in prison on Robben Island in 1988. This photograph of Ashley and his mother was taken on the day of his release from the island, where he ended up working after it was declared a museum in 1997.

As the apartheid edifice grew, so life became intolerable for people of colour. In the early 1960s, because they were unable to live a normal life, many middle class 'coloured' people left the Cape for other shores, where the grass was thought to be greener. Despised by some for forsaking the struggle, most settled in England, Australia and Canada. This photograph of Sam and Lucy Warries and their children, Joan, Hubert, Mary and John, was taken on the passenger liner, the Pendenis Castle, in the Cape Town docks, just before it left for London. It is the last picture taken of the Warries family as a whole as all except Mary (fifth from right) were on their way to London for good. When Hubert returned to Cape Town for the first time after emigrating, he was somewhat shunned for having given up the good fight against apartheid. The instruction from Mary's husband, Edgar, was strict: Hubert was allowed to visit the home of his sister on only one occasion.

Before they were evicted under the Group Areas Act (1950), 'coloured' residents of Simons Town regularly travelled by train to the central business district in Cape Town, be it for work, shopping, or simply for pleasure. The journey was hardly boring as the 'non-white' coach was a place for conversation and gossip, and for making dates and seeking husbands. One day in 1953, 'Cocky' Roberts and Harold Nelson, both from Simons Town, took the train to town to relieve the monotony of life in their quaint village at the southern end of the Peninsula. In town on a day when the market on the Grand Parade was in full swing, they browsed for bargains at the many stalls, which sold just about everything from second-hand clothing to antique furniture. While on the Parade, they came across a kiosk, where they could have their photographs taken. Nothing is known about the photographer who ran the business, but he is remembered by many who were captured by him on their trip to town. The image on the left shows a photograph of 'Cocky' and Harold set within a heart shape, which is surrounded by words of endearment and a design of leaves and flowers. It was hand-coloured by the owner, who might have been influenced by the popular studio portraits in subtly-coloured tones, which hung in many 'coloured' home in the 1950s and 1960s.

Photographs of loved ones mean everything to a soldier who finds himself far away from home on the battlefront, where life hangs on a thread. In World War II, while campaigning in North Africa, some soldiers from the Cape used their precious photographs of loved ones, their silent companions in battle, for making personal greetings in the form of postcards. They did this by having their photos of those back home, as well as portraits of themselves, transferred onto an image of the map of Africa, and also the pyramids of Egypt. The postcards were sent to South Africa from the front. Receiving such a postcard must have meant both joy and relief for the recipient as the message was that all was well on the battlefield. The postcards shown on the right were posted by Clifford O'Malley, originally from Simons Town. Clifford sent the postcards to his mother, Eva, who pasted them in a book in Afrikaans about indigenous flora. The one at the top of the image appears in the place of a drawing of a flower, reflecting a mother's attitude towards her son.

Before the days of supermarkets and one-stop shopping at malls, the corner café was a veritable institution. If you ran out of everyday household goods, like salt, sugar or cooking oil, the proverbial 'bubbie', a shopkeeper of Indian descent, was always just a short walk away. And if you were cash-strapped, there was never a problem: you could buy on tick (on account) until you could pay him at the end of the month. The corner café was also where you bought the morning or evening newspaper, often on your way to or from work. Besides this, the café was a place for hanging out, especially in working class areas like District Six. But there were always a few tough guys around, as seen in the photograph on the left. Because it wasn't thought to be the safest of places, sometimes parents would say to their children that they didn't want them 'hanging around street corners'.

Until they were evicted under the Group Areas Act (1950) in 1968, the Maurice family lived in a modest, two-bedroom house in Plumstead. Rolled into a bundle and stored in the garage was the family tent, which usually hung from the rafters for want of space. This tent, seen in the photograph on the right, used for camping in the summer holidays, was pitched at various locations, including Kommetjie on the Cape Peninsula. For the children in the family, Mary-Anne, Emile and Portia, camping provided some of their most cherished memories of childhood - waking up to the smell of the sea, the sound of a canvas tent flapping in the howling wind, and the crackle of a fire at night. And so, thanks to the adventurous and exploratory spirit of their parents, a love of nature was cultivated at an early age in the daughters and son of the family. Today the outdoor legacy of 'coloured' parents lives on at the Cape. At year end, when people seek a breather from the toil of life, fathers and sons still unpack tents from jam-packed garages; mothers and daughters still prepare picnic baskets; and families still head for the great outdoors.

Emile Maurice is an independent arts writer and curator.