Kammakamma
2022 - 2024
4K video, Synchronised two-channel projection, configurable screens, sandbags with sand from Macassar Dunes, props and costumes
First episode of iterative work
16’54 min
If the river’s mouth could speak, what would it say? Enacting the possibility of river mouths as storytellers and historiographers, Kammakamma is the opening episode of the second work in a moving-image trilogy that visually, archivally and sonically explores the Eerste River in South Africa as witness and carrier of submerged narratives. The Eerste River’s nomenclature derives from Simon van der Stel, the Dutch East India Company (VOC) colonial governor who in 1679 annexed land for settler agriculture at the first (Dutch, ‘eerste’) river he encountered after Cape Town, over time erasing the names the river had in indigenous tongues. Structured in an iterative unfolding towards feature length, Kammakamma (2022 – 24) is a synchronised two-channel video projection which transpires along the river through three geographically, temporally and affectively distinct yet interconnected chronicles written by De Swardt, poet and novelist Ronelda S. Kamfer, and historian Saarah Jappie. Its title draws from slippages between the Khoekhoe language terms for water (‘//amma’) and similitude (‘khama’), with ‘kamma’ absorbed into Afrikaans to mean ‘make believe’. Through this interplay, Kammakamma considers the river as a source of shifting stories, and as a saturation point for understanding the effects of climate and catastrophe.
In the opening episode of Kammakamma De Swardt probes one of the founding myths of Afrikanerdom through the figure of Hendrik Biebouw, a teenage idler. Biebouw, alongside three others attacked a VOC watermill attached to the Eerste River in 1707, during which, in an altercation with the interceding Stellenbosch village magistrate, Johannes Starrenburg, Biebouw infamously asserted himself, imbibed, as an “Africaander”. At the time this term was solely attributed to enslaved, manumitted, or indigenous peoples at the Cape, a fact often sanitised from interpretations of the event, meaning Biebouw’s utterance was a transposition. Starrenburg duly recorded the insurgency; by the subsequent census Biebouw is registered as ‘Gone’. For De Swardt Biebouw’s declaration not only is inextricable from the river where it was spoken – haunting its flow – but also from the substance of wine as settler-colonial agent, and from the instability of language itself. Portrayed by the actor and art writer Ben Albertyn, Biebouw is speculatively recast in a purgatorial state sifting sand from sandbags mined around the river mouth from the dunes in Macassar back into the river at the blocked confluence of the Eerste and Plankenbrug Rivers on the periphery of Stellenbosch. Working through notions of watery personification and possession, Biebouw is presented as a fractured, excessive subject contradicting and complicating his own tale of class rebellion, a ghost wading in a feedback loop. Approximating the river, he seeks confluence, feverishly putting forward inundating and porous acts.
Developed through De Swardt's sonic technique of ‘sunstrokes of voice’ – dense and delirious forms of speech which incapacitate the articulating subject – Biebouw’s vocalisations in Kammakamma invert figures of speech and conjoin words, jumbling Afrikaans, Dutch, German and Malagasy. Interludes filmed in the wake of flooding show the river as subjected to disaster management and hydro-engineering, as an entrancingly wild and man-made entity. Tableaux drawing from swimming and life-saving manuals introduce the whole ensemble, with the actors René Cloete, Ibtisaam Florence, and Cole Wessels playing protagonists in following episodes, while demonstrating the suffocating, burdensome effects the instrumentalisation of Biebouw’s words continue to have. Through the form of synchronised two-channel projection, De Swardt plays upon the idea of ‘seeing double’, of states of intoxication and parallel temporalities, but more troublingly of perception itself as disorientation.