Rest in power: Poet James Matthews, who died last week, is pictured here with his great-grandchildren Sophia
and Luther on his 95th birthday earlier this year. Photo: Jimi Matthews
I met James Matthews through anti-apartheid photographer Benny Gool and journalist Roger Friedman in 2012. By sheer luck I got to spend Friday mornings talking to James when he spent time at their offices on the edge of District Six in Cape Town. James, Roger and Benny stoically ate the lemon cake that I baked for these sessions, although I should have been alerted to its success by the healthy portion of leftovers.
It was through poet, writer, and intellectual James Matthews that I got to know Gladys Thomas, his close friend and co-author of their seminal anthology Cry Rage (1972), which was banned by the apartheid government. Spending time at their homes in Silvertown (James) and Gladys (Ocean View), the weight of South Africa’s past bore home.
Both lived in areas established for “coloureds” by the Group Areas Act of 1950. The cruel irony of Ocean View (it has no view of any ocean) or Silvertown (it takes real effort to shine in the shadow of Table Mountain that both overlooks and over-looks the Cape Flats) was not lost on them.
Having James and Gladys read their poetry to my students in their homes that showcased the visual art of another luminary, Peter Clarke, is something I will never forget. What stood apart was the humility of these extraordinary human beings, in contrast to the grotesque displays of self-importance that have come to epitomise democratic South Africa.
I thought I was the luckiest person when Roger, Benny and James asked me in early 2014 to revisit Age is a Beautiful Phase (2008) and edit a second edition. I admitted to them that I knew very little about poetry, was a nobody in terms of academic gravitas, and the only thing I had going for me was the lemon cake.
I suggested that the second edition could include photography and as a first, a translation of poems, one to Afrikaans, and one to Xhosa. Photographs of James by George Hallett, Rashid Lombard and Benny Gool were included.
I wanted the edition to span those difficult questions of life and death, remembering and forgetting, a language in which the medium of photography is accomplished. I imagined this book to speak of the now, James’s words anchoring the unwritable experience of being black.
The poems and the photographs draw the reader to fresh possibilities of understanding growing old, of meditations, reflections, growth and appreciation. The second
edition was not going to be a lyrical waxing about old age. James reminds us of the reckoning of a racial past, of the cost of pretense, and papering over fault lines, writing this poem, which he insisted be the prologue:
white man
seated in your luxurious pad
walls illuminate with the glory of
Nina Simone, Josh White, Miriam Makeba
you say you are my soul brother
paying homage to songs sung by
singers singing the bitter blues brought on
by gut-clawing, soul searing, castrating white laws
and you tell me you are my soul brother
when the hypocrisy of your pious double-talk
sharing my pain and plight sickens me
white man
get lost and screw yourself
you have long-gone lost your soul
The launch of the book at the Centre for Curating the Archive at the University of Cape Town in June 2014 was spectacular, with hundreds queuing to get their copies signed.
That so many were young people was equally endearing and encouraging, with James — in his tell-tale rakish black hat — exuding the grace, sense of humour and generosity that so many have come to know and appreciate. Announcing to all that the book proceeds would “fund his trip to Cuba”, James made that night unforgettable for many reasons.
I have come to lean on his instruction in 2014, especially at the lowest of times since: “Siona, wrap yourself in dreams.” By gifting me these words, he outlined the crucial work of the imagination in seeing life anew, and how desperately we need hope, love and kindness in the aftermath of trauma, loss and grief.
Thank you, James. And farewell.
• James Matthews, poet, 1929–2024.
• Prof Siona O’Connell is based in the University of Pretoria’s school of the arts and is a founding member of its Critical African Studies Project.