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‘The Beautiful Struggle’ captures the fashion, fun and lifestyle ekasi. CARL COLLISON spoke to collaborators Mlamli Figlan and Per Englund.

The prospect of being the object of a foreigner’s photographic gaze has always sat very uneasily with me. It seems as though we South Africans still revel in being some aesthetically pleasing, politically correct, modern-day Saartjie Baartmans, with our smiling acquiescence to anthropological documentarians for whom South Africa remains a cause celebre. We, our country, our struggle and our poverty, still inspire countless books and exhibitions.

Swedish photographer, Per Englund, who collaborated with South African, Mlamli Figlan on the coffee-table book, The Beautiful Struggle, is well aware of this. It’s a beautifully put-together, honest, no-frills looks at fashion, fun and lifestyle ekasi. Englund’s photographs range from township girls sharing heady, heartfelt laughter, to the American thug-inspired fashions donned by aspirant rudeboys, to church mamas on their way home after a lengthy Sunday service, to the odd baba puffing on a spliff that seems like it’s the size of his arm. It’s also a refreshing take on the sometimes apologetic, often clinical images usually dished up by these image-driven anthropological studies.

When I ask Englund what he thinks of foreign photographers documenting a people they know little about beyond impressions gained during a two-week visit, his reply is reassuring: “That is a very relevant question,” he says, adding, “Generally I’m very suspicious of that way of working. My opinion is that there are enough stories to tell, even from your own backyard. It’s easy to travel far away, but the real challenge is to look at your own personal environment. In this case it’s Mlamli’s story. I was more of a tool, and it was important to me that every single photograph had to be approved by Mlamli before we printed the book. The ideal and most interesting way to do projects like these would be to encourage and train local people with talent to do it themselves, no matter where on Earth they live.” He does, however, admit with refreshing honesty, that his approach might have been anthropological. “Well, yeah, I guess. Maybe not the approach, but the final result obviously is. And Karen Waltorp, a Danish anthropologist has written some of the text in the book.”

Waltorp’s text is the weakest link in this collection. Obviously written for a largely European audience, it’s, well, anthropological. And cringe-worthy. Lines such as the rather reductionist “‘Coconut’ is a derogatory term for someone who lives in the township but tones down his background among white people” and chapter titles such as embarrassingly hippy-ish “Spirituality has no boundaries” do not do the images one bit of justice.

Englund and Figlan, the two masters at the helm of The Beautiful Struggle, met while Englund was in Cape Town assisting fashion photographer Johan Hellstrom on a catalogue shoot. “I first came to South Africa in 2002, assisting a Swedish photographer. Mlamli was working in one of the hotels where we were staying at the time. He was working in the bar and that’s how we first started to chat. We were the same age and he was (and still is) staying in Gugulethu.”

Like so many of the new, younger generation of world travellers, Englund found himself un-enthralled by the soulless Venus tourist-traps of Cape Town’s Victoria & Alfred Waterfront, or the Costa del Sol aspirations of the Camps Bay set, but intrigued by the world that exists beyond the Piz Buin curtain – the infamous Cape Flats; that sprawling mass of townships hidden not only from tourists, but also from the countless locals living in blissful ignorance.

“I showed him my interest in life on that side and he then began to school me in township life and style,” remembers Englund. “We had to keep a low profile, though, since the hotel management had forbidden him from mentioning the townships to the guests. He was only supposed to promote the typical tourist attractions, such as the mountain, the wine lands and the beaches.”

Figlan eventually left his job at the hotel in 2003. Refusing to be drawn on what exactly made him leave, all he is willing to say is: “There were things I was just not happy with.” Then, with a laugh, adds: “That is all I am going to say on that matter.”

Though he might be conflicted about discussing the issues he has with his former employees, there can be no doubt about his loyalty to his ‘hood. “I am a proud Gugs person. You will always hear me talking about Gugs,” he says with pride.

Every township on the Cape Flats plays dark host to a range of social ills, which, naturally, leads to countless individuals’ often unspoken pain and hurt: gangsterism, drugs, murders, rape – the list is endless. Despite this infamy, it also, as Englund and Figlan have captured, sees its fair share of joy and laughter. It has its quirks that make it so unique and precious to those who inhabit it. This, say Englund and Figlan, is why they embarked on this project.

“We felt [this book] had an important role to play. The townships are so misunderstood, especially in South Africa from what I’ve experienced. We wanted to inspire a bridging of the gap between town and township. Township people know everything about town, but town people know very little about the townships. In The Beautiful Struggle we show the other side of life, and it was natural to focus on the positive elements of township life and style,” says Englund.

What does he think of the fashion? “The style is unique; the fashion, the pantsula, the kwaito. It [kwaito] could easily be compared to the role that hip-hop played in the early ’70s in New York.”

The 26-year-old Figlan took part in this project not only out of a want to put his hood on the map, as it were, but also out of a genuine feeling of kinship with this complete stranger-quickly-turned-good-friend and colleague. “He is my friend, man, my brother. It doesn’t matter that he is white and I am black. We shared so many experiences together. He is a great guy,” says Figlan.

Englund, too, looks back at his time here with fondness. “We always laugh when we look back. For example, every time we got back to the taxi rank in town after sundown, the vibe was really scary. That’s one place I don’t like to be after dark and one place where Mlamli could not guarantee our safety. I never cared much about losing the cameras, but after a successful day of shooting, I stuffed my underwear with all the exposed film rolls, then tried to walk with an attitude,” he laughs.

Turns out that, despite the obvious dangers and rigors involved in such a lengthy process, they were well received by all the locals they came into contact with. Says Englund: “I found most of the people of the townships friendly and welcoming. But, of course, Mlamli had a lot of explaining to do. His name means problem solver and he really lives up to that. I think that people felt that we weren’t there to steal anything.”

For both Englund and Figlan putting together the book turned out be a learning curve that neither of them had anticipated. Says Figlan: “It was hard – a serious learning curve. I learnt so much while doing this.”

Englund agrees. “Sometimes it was hard – I even had to sell half of my camera equipment to get money to buy film, but it all went quite smooth… I guess the ancestors approved and helped us a lot along the way.” Then, in a confessional tone, declares: “Both Mlamli and I are really – and I mean really – stubborn, and after having decided to do this, we dedicated three years of our lives to it.”

According to Englund and Figlan, the book’s reception has been “fantastic”, both locally and internationally. And both feel that their hard work and dedication has paid off handsomely; and not just financially.

“It is not about sales,” says Figlan. “It is about the fact that the book has seen a great reaction from the people in the townships. They see it as their own story – they see the truth of their lives reflected in these pictures.”

The Beautiful Struggle is published by David Krut publishers

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