The other side of history

The presence of a newspaper in a household in the western world is nothing out of the ordinary, piled on a stack or held in someone’s hands. However, in most townships in South Africa the presence of a newspaper is revered if found in someone’s hands for reading, let alone piled on a stack to show its counterparts in abundance. In such places, a newspaper’s home is in the hands of a window cleaner or a butcher to wrap meat goods for his customers. For this reason, spending a few hours at the home of one of the many struggle heroes of the Apartheid era who has hundreds of newspapers, some dated as far back as 1992 was a bit of a throwback.
From his very vivid narrative of his days in exile in Tanzania to his gallery which doubled as a library contained in a shack - everything about what this man represents is anything but typical. Many first-hand accounts of what happened during the Apartheid era in South Africa are often dark and heart wrenching, but Mr Flaxman’s recollection seemed to highlight the triumphs he cultivated during this period and his time in exile.
Quite ironic, as he was addressing me and six other young university students who had paid him a visit in honour of Human Rights Day – a holiday celebrated in commemoration of the Sharpeville massacre which claimed hundreds of lives during Apartheid. Expecting the standard, bitter undertone that accompanies many conversations around this matter, what we got instead was a celebration of literature and pilgrimage through the other side of history.
An ordinary shack the size of about two ice-cream stands put together is where Mr Flaxman exhibits his collection of newspaper cuttings which show some of the most significant highlights of South Africa’s history. Pictures of revered DRUM magazine journalists and writers of yesteryears such as himself adorn and restore the dignity of this library in a shack. Upon entering the library, its awkwardly limited size became apparent when we each had an arm’s length worth of space to move around. However, Mr Flaxman’s words “I have no aspirations to meet the Mandelas and Steve Bikos of our time because I know them intimately through my avid reading”, made his books and newspaper collection gateways into other worlds and time eras. The size of that shack mattered no more after that but the vastness of possibility it represented. What would happen if we all did what we could with the little we had like Mr Flaxman?