Voices from Africa

African Christian theology reaches back into the early centuries, embracing some of the most sophisticated doctrinal and political theological reflection—Augustine—and the martyr theologies of the Donatists. In the more recent past, it has been heavily influenced by the missionary theologies of the colonial period, while the last 60 years or so have seen the emergence of more strongly indigenous voices, not least in the inculturation theologies of West Africa and the more specifically political liberationist theologies of Southern Africa, which arose at the time of the struggle with apartheid.

This issue sees the publication of two articles by African writers who have previously contributed to the journal, one from Kenya, one from Zambia: one avowedly devotional in its reading of Hebrews and the theme of Jesus’ temptations, drawing on the traditions of African martyrdom, the other calling for a renewal of theological political engagement, of the struggle for social justice, in the light of the Christian gospel and of current failings in African democracy and of growing xenophobia.

These are both themes which find a rich resonance in African Christian church life and which, by way of introduction, I would like to illustrate briefly, not from works of theology but of art. In a culture where orality plays a strong role, art has sometimes been one of the most powerful means of communication.

The works I will look at are by the great Namibian artist, John Muafangejo. ¹ Born in 1943, John trained as an artist in the Lutheran Art Centre in Rorke’s Drift. He was subsequently rejected by the art school in Cape Town and returned to Namibia, where he built up an international reputation as an artist working in lino-cuts. His work handled a variety of themes. He illustrated biblical narratives (often in cartoon strip form); he celebrated the rich, wild life of Namibia; and he recorded the daily lives of Namibian men and women; he also reflected deeply on the conflict between black and white which was playing out in very violent forms in a bitter civil war between the South African regime and SWAPO, the Namibian resistance army. For a while he taught art in Odibo, an Anglican mission station right on the Angolan border, which was the scene of much armed conflict.

John had a great advocate in an Anglican clergyman in London, John Wheeler. Wheeler brought his works to the attention of people and art critics in the UK and the USA, notably Edward Lucie-Smith, and when the Anti-Apartheid Movement organised a Free Mandela march from Glasgow to Wembley, it was John Muafangejo’s Hope and Optimism, which provided the backdrop to the stage.

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© The Estate of John Muafangejo (The John Muafangejo Trust). All rights reserved. DACS 2016.

At first sight, it may seem surprising that Muafangejo’s work was chosen for Wembley. Namibian commentators, like the Levinsons, Orde and his mother Olga, ² have tended to play down Muafagejo’s political involvement, and it is certain that he was not in any normal sense a political activist. He was an artist with a keen eye for the rich world of God’s creation, for its beauty, its inequality and injustice and for its potential for good. Although himself plagued by depression, he was someone who never abandoned hope and it is right that his best known work should express this and express his own deepest convictions.

The work is wonderfully simple in its conception: two rows of each six figures, alternately black, white … on the top row, and white, black … on the bottom. In each row the figures on the two ends reach across to hold hands in front of the others. All the figures look across at their opposite numbers and are held together by the outstretched arms. And above each row, two simple inscriptions: Hope and Optimism/ Inspite of the Present Difficulties.

It was an uncompromising vision of a post-apartheid world, where all would be equal and would regard each other as equals, held together, acknowledging and recognising their difference and their deep bonds. It was also, both in view of the date (1984) and its placing on the world stage of the Free Mandela Concert at Wembley, an extraordinary expression of African generosity and willingness to accept their white brothers and sisters despite all that had happened, and as such it was a profoundly hopeful vision. It is hard to underestimate the importance of this image by a black artist offering the hand of friendship to the white South Africans and Namibians who had imposed apartheid on him and his fellows.

It is clear that for Muafangejo, this vision of racial equality is deeply anchored in his own experience of the church. In his lino-cut celebrating Desmond Tutu’s enthronement as Archbishop of Cape Town, the same images are to be found, the pattern of black and white faces looking into each others’ eyes, the outstretched hands between black and white. The setting is St. George’s Cathedral in Cape Town, where Tutu is being almost invaded by the dove of the Holy Spirit, as he raises his hands in blessing, standing in front of the image of the crucified Christ. The text refers not to the service in Cape Town, but to one in St. George’s, Windhoek, where the congregation was “praying and plodding [pleading]” for the new Archbishop. With hindsight, this was a crucial moment in the anti-apartheid struggle, and the prayers are heartfelt and rooted in the same sense of hope, which was a characteristic of all Tutu’s preaching and writing throughout the struggle with apartheid: “Father, hear our prayers. Bless him and keep him in our mind. Hope and be strong. Peaceful. Kindness. Archbishop in defficlt time but God will help him.” There is no denying the huge challenges and dangers which faced Tutu, and the cross is there to underline them. There is also a deep hope and confidence.

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© The Estate of John Muafangejo (The John Muafangejo Trust). All rights reserved. DACS 2016.

One last image, one of two men, one black, one white, in a garden sweeping up leaves.

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© The Estate of John Muafangejo (The John Muafangejo Trust). All rights reserved. DACS 2016.

This, like a number of Muafangejo’s images, works at a number of levels. The image itself is sharply divided, almost cut in half across the middle, with only one tree trunk crossing the line which divides the lawn, which the men are sweeping, from the white building surrounded by trees above. The image is particularly graceful, with the patterns of the leaves and branches of the trees reflected in the leaves on the lawn. The two figures assume an almost identical pose: they sweep as one. What’s being said here? The key must lie in the activity itself. In the world of 1980s Southern Africa—and the print is dated 1985—this was the work of the ‘garden boy’, the hired servant. Here the black and the white man work harmoniously together doing a task, caring for the garden with its own particular beauty, its beauty reflected in their own work. It’s an image of hope, of peacefulness, of kindness: of humans one to another and of humans to God’s land.

But there’s a question, raised by the inscription at the top of the print which reads simply: “Bishop O B Winter with Peter Kachavivi”. Where and when was this? Peter Katjavivi, presently Speaker of the Namibian Parliament, left Namibia in the 60s to train and work for SWAPO, the Namibia resistance movement. He was SWAPO representative in London in the 70s and has subsequently had a distinguished career as an academic administrator, diplomat, and political scientist. He returned to Namibia only in 1989 after independence, after Muafangejo’s death in 1987. Bishop Colin O’Brien Winter, was elected bishop of Namibia in 1968, after his predecessor had been expelled by the South Africans. He too protested against the injustices of the South African regime. In particular, he documented and protested the fatal shooting by South African troops of members of the Anglican congregation at St Luke’s, Epinga in the north of Namibia. This occurred in 1971, and was one of the events which led to Colin Winter’s expulsion the following year. For the rest of his short life, until his death in November 1981, Winter worked as Bishop in Exile, working in close contact with SWAPO, in regular correspondence with Katjavivi.

St. Luke’s, Epinga has a particular significance for Muafangejo. It was, as he records on his print: “South West Africa in 1976”, where “I started Christian in 1957”, having come from Angola, where he was born, across the ‘artificial boundary’ into South West Africa, as Namibia was then known. He also references it in a print which portrays the parish priest, Fr. Stephen Shimbode, “the artists father in God”, weeping for his people from exile in Angola.

Clearly, the two figures, Katjavivi and Winter, have strong political associations and were closely linked to events which will have made a deep impression on Muafangejo. Equally clearly, neither of them was in Namibia in 1985 (Winter had died in 1981) or had been for many years. So was this imaginary? In her autobiographical work, Undisciplined Heart, Jane Katjavivi, Peter’s wife, describes returning to Namibia and unpacking their pictures, including a print of Peter Katjavivi. and Colin Winter in “the Namibian Peace House outside Oxford”. John must have visited them there when he came to the UK and USA for one of his exhibitions. The work was then produced later, a vision of a hoped-for unity, of racial justice and peace, of kindness, of care for the creation which was already being realised in far-away Oxfordshire. It is also a courageous public statement of Muafangejo’s support for prominent figures outlawed by the then Namibian regime and committed to its overthrow.

Muafangejo’s work presents a powerful challenge to the churches and to church theologians in Africa and beyond. It celebrates the beauty of Africa, its landscapes, its wildlife, its peoples, its history and traditions, and culture. It laments their history of suffering and loss and their courage in adversity. It celebrates the church’s resistance to oppression and tyranny, injustice and inequality. And it preaches hope, justice and love: peace and kindness. And all of this is framed and informed by his portrayal of the narratives of the Bible, of the Christian message. Faith and life are intimately connected in a vision expressing a deep longing for a new creation. The articles in this issue may properly be read out of such a context.