Writer: Veli Mbele | Photograph: Supplied

In revolutionary struggle, there are what are called symbols of struggle. These are items (tangible and intangible) that are created or adopted in the course of struggle, and they assume their meaning from the context within which they are conceived.

By their very nature, symbols of struggle are rarely a product of formal meetings or so-called rational debate. For this reason, their meaning or importance is often best explained by those who were involved in or present at the moment of their creation or adoption.

I must state at the outset that I have a profoundly sentimental relationship with the name Azania. I grew up in the Black Consciousness Movement (BCM)—the Azanian People’s Organisation, to be exact. And the name ‘Azania’ was a central part of my worldview. In fact, it continues to be.

Over time, I have read several expositions—and attempts at expositions—on the genesis and meaning of the name Azania. Some for and some against. Some very cogent, and some not so cogent.
All the literature I encountered on the meaning of the name Azania never tampered with my association or belief in the name Azania, and this is because my identification with the name Azania was much deeper than the issues that conventional academic disciplines grapple with.

Therefore, the debate on the meaning or validity of the name Azania is nothing new. We have been here before. As I understand it, the adoption of the name Azania by some in the black community in South AfriKKKa was more than just a marker for political affiliation.
The name Azania was an expression of the deepest aspirations and highest hopes of the black majority in South AfriKKKa, whose very right to express themselves was criminalised—and any attempt to defy this was often viciously punished, even with death.

Therefore, for some of us, the name Azania denotes the following:

1. A rebellion against the uninvited presence of Europeans and other invaders in Afrika, their capture of our land and related resources;
2. A rebellion against the mass murder and rape of our ancestors by Europeans and other invaders, and the imposition of their alien way of life on an indigenous majority;
3. A rejection of the European criminal polity referred to as South Africa, as formalised in 1910, and all the repugnant colonial symbolism it embodies;
4. An unapologetic affirmation that the land on which this polity South Africa exists—and the entire territory of Afrika belongs to black people and them alone;
5. The resolve by black people to fight for the return of their land and the restoration of their dignity as an indigenous people; and
6. The name Azania represents a rejection of the idea that whiteness is the universal and undisputed standard for what it means to be human and related measures of human worth.

In fact, the name Azania is the reason why thousands of black teenagers joined the liberation struggle—even when they knew that by doing so, they would be signing their death warrants.
The name Azania is the reason why thousands of black teenagers left their families to go into neighbouring countries to get military training, under the auspices of the various liberation movements.

Therefore, the identification by some sections of South AfriKKKan society with the name Azania is not necessarily a cry to reclaim some lost ancient kingdom or polity.

Neither is it something that can be fully understood through etymology or any related academic framework, and this is why there exist such intellectual frameworks as Anthro-historicity and Critical Discourse Analysis (CDA).

While I value critical scholarship and intellectual rigour, I also think the notion that suggests written text is the ultimate or sole source of the existence or validity of an idea is deeply problematic.
Ideas don’t only assume their validity or meaning from written text, and besides, there are knowledges and histories that are often invalidated purely because they don’t appear in so-called mainstream texts.

Therefore, in seeking to assess the political validity or lack thereof of the name Azania, it is important to also assess the circumstances under which it was adopted.
At a basic level, in the South AfriKKKan context, the name Azania constitutes a deep yearning for something fundamentally different from the inherently violent and anti-black European colony that was inaugurated in May 1910.

The name Azania is, therefore, a quest for meaning, for belonging—and whatever its imperfections (real or perceived), there are some of us who believe it is still a cause worth living for, and if needs be, worth dying for.

Azania Shall Prevail!