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ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK VOICEOVER:

Welcome to This Being Human…I’m your host Abdul Rehman-Malik. On this podcast from the Aga Khan Museum I talk to extraordinary people from all over the world whose life, ideas and art are shaped by Muslim culture.

NADIR NAHDI:

There’s a new generation that has a very unique to how they see themselves as young Muslims in the modern world.

TANYA MUNEERA WILLIAMS:

I am this wide eyed girl. I’m like, I want it all, I want to experience it all.

GINELLA MASSA:

Everyone has a story. Sometimes you just have to ask and find out what it is.

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK VOICEOVER:

Like the poem that inspires this podcast, The Guest House, by Sufi poet Jallaludin Rumi, we’re talking to people who seek meaning and joy in work and life…regardless of what the day brings. Today, South African photographer Gulshan Khan.

GULSHAN KHAN:

Some people have asked me in the past, is there anything that you would have liked to have covered in history? And no, I’m really, really, truly at peace with where I am because I was not meant to be in those places or to photograph those things. And I believe that if I’m in a place where I’m photographing, that must mean that there’s value in why I’m there and what I need to annotate on this situation or reflect from it.

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK VOICEOVER:

Gulshan Khan was born in South Africa towards the end of Apartheid – the government policy of racial segregation. Her parents were anti-Apartheid activists, so she grew up highly aware of social justice causes. That background has informed her approach to her craft. Much of her work as a photojournalist explores the ways that apartheid, a policy that ended in the early 1990s, continues to affect the people of South Africa today. Her work has been printed by The New York Times, Washington Post, National Geographic, Agence France Presse, and many, many others. In 2018, one of her photos was included in Time Magazine’s top 100 photos of the year. But there’s another project that’s close to her heart – and that’s the ongoing documentation of Muslim life and culture in South Africa. She talked to me from her home in Johannesburg about why she’s dedicating her time to building that visual record, and about using photography to shine light on social issues. I started by asking her what she remembers about living through those final days of the Apartheid era.

GULSHAN KHAN:

Being such a young child at that time, we didn’t necessarily have the consciousness, nor the language or the understanding then to really understand what was going on at the time. But it was there and we felt it. You know, these things, even before you have a language, you feel it first. And what I think people need to remember is that things didn’t simply change for many of us overnight. You know, yes, people could vote. We could go to parks and beaches where we were not allowed to before. We could use busses and toilets even that we couldn’t use before, but structurally, systemically, culturally, even spatially, things did not change, especially in the small towns like the one I grew up in. To tell you a bit more anecdotally or personally from my experience, I remember security police being outside our home because like you’ve mentioned, my parents were anti-apartheid activists and you know, they would or there was always things happening even late at night, whether they’re printing things at home or having meetings. You know, us children didn’t always know what was going on, and it was only later that I realized what was happening. I remember my mom being carried off to jail once in true — typical to my mom’s personality she made them sweep out the jail before she – the prison cell before she walked in. You know, but we have those memories of being kind of terrorized in some ways. So it was not as extreme, perhaps 10 years before that. But there were all these instances where we felt it, you know? And then in a small town like ours, there was always spatial apartheid, economic apartheid. So I mean, our schools got mixed, right, between so-called Indian so called colored and black kids. I remember the day this happened.

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK:

Yeah, tell me about that day.

GULSHAN KHAN:

Yeah, I remember standing in, in lines, in assembly, and we were already relatively mixed like they’d be one or two kids from, you know, different so-called race classes. But it was literally the school from up the road, which was a also some Indian, some colored kids were in our school, some Indian, some colored kids were up the road and they walked down to our school, you know, and it was this – we were waiting to welcome students come in. But there were no white children who were mixing with us, right? I mean, the white children went to schools across the river, and even until a few years ago, the policy which said that you had to go to a school closest to your home has only now been relooked at and changed. And I was only properly exposed to white people, meaning at the same level as me, when I went to university or when I left Ladysmith, Emnambithi. And so you can imagine the psychological and cultural sort of impact of that. We grew up always feeling that white people were superior. And it’s crazy because our parents were anti-apartheid activists, right? They held these values of equality. Yet on some deep psychological levels, I was afraid of white women. I was afraid of white people. We would have to participate in inter-school competitions now, because, you know, apartheid is over and we didn’t have the same resources as them. We didn’t have grounds or sporting equipment or, you know, textbooks like them. We had maybe 40 to a class sometimes. So people say that we didn’t experience apartheid, but in these ways we continue to experience it, you know, because in South Africa, inevitably, race and economics are inextricably linked.

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK:

As you’re talking, Gulshan, you know, a very strong and uncomfortable memory comes to me out of going to South Africa for the first time many years ago and being in public spaces, cafes, museums, bookshops, on the boardwalk in Cape Town and being incredibly aware of my race. And feeling that every space I went into meant that those around me would kind of be categorizing me. Was I local? Was I a foreigner? Where was I from? What racial group did I belong to? And a lot of assumptions I felt were being made about me on that basis. I guess, as you’re speaking Gulshan, this is something that must become like second nature of constantly being forced to assess the world around you in racial terms.

GULSHAN KHAN:

You are not the first person who has said that to me, probably not the 10th or the 20th either. I mean, I have fellow African friends who come to South Africa and say this, you know. It’s almost like you’re in high alert in some way. I mean, I’m sure there is, with a growing black middle class and some transformations happening in the country, perhaps it’s not everyone who feels this way, but I think that we are constantly living, you know, in a sort of yellow or red zone, not just because of our high crime rates and whatever else but you go into a restaurant and you watch who is being served first, you know. I think that our psychology is so deeply affected by our history that we almost naturally place people into categories and then assume so many things about them just based on your first view. I mean, my sister and I, you know, growing up in KwaZulu-Natal, we always in a so-called Indian community – and these labels, you know, Indian and colored I found so reductive, I don’t — they were just lazy. Most of my family doesn’t even come from actual India. But yes, we would, because my family’s all mixed in KwaZulu-Natal, my sister and I would feel more colored and then we’d go to family in Cape Town and among our colored family, we’d feel more Indian, you know? I’ll tell you what’s really funny a joke I have between my American friends growing up among us here in South Africa. We could never understand why Mariah Carey was black and not colored because oh her skin is lighter you know, oh her hair is kind of not as curly. You have these ridiculous notions of race that come from all these fallacies that was psychologically embedded in our minds because of our histories, and we’re still living with that. And this is, I mean, a large part of my work is really just having these conversations because as much as we are reflecting as South Africans to the rest of the world, I believe it’s so important for us to learn each other still because we’re still living in our silos, in our little ghettos. And how can we have empathy if we don’t know each other, you know?

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK VOICEOVER:

Gulshan got into photography during a student protest movement. Towards the end of 2015, protests spread around the country, demanding an end to increases in student fees and more government support for universities. Tens of thousands of students mobilized. Gulshan had just quit an unfulfilling job and was volunteering to support the protestors.

GULSHAN KHAN:

You know, they’d be occupying the Great Hall, for example, at the Wits University and staying there so people will bring you food and whatever they needed. And I would help with that, and I would take some of the food afterwards to people who were living on the streets around there or to the churches. And being part of that and being part of the protests, I was also bearing witness to something that I think was going to be or was already historically significant. But then I was also witness to things like police brutality, the overuse of force, and I would photograph it using my phone because I instinctively wanted to document this or not just firstly to document it, but I instinctively wanted to show it to other people because I felt like it was necessary for people to see what was happening. And so I was photographing on my phone and at some point I used my partner’s sort of camera on program because I didn’t know how to use a camera. I had no idea what was shutter speed or aperture or anything like that.

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK:

That’s amazing.

GULSHAN KHAN:

And I would put these pictures on Instagram and people would ask me to feature them or, you know, to publish them. And then it was actually Zubair, my partner who said, Why don’t you formalize this? You know, you’re not studying or working right now. So I went to the market photo workshop and did a yearlong course on photojournalism and documentary photography. And yes, when I went there, I could not use a camera. I got in with these images made on my phone. I remember the program manager giving out these forms, which to assess your knowledge, asked what is shutter speed and what is aperture? And as he handed it to me, he said, I’m so sorry, Gulshan. I know you don’t know anything [laughing], so I don’t know what I was doing. Honestly, I remember so many moments when I said to myself, What the hell are you doing here? You know?

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK:

There’s something really exciting about hearing that as you’re speaking, I’m excited to hear that your craft, which we’ll talk about in just a moment, which is, Gulshan, is stunning –

GULSHAN KHAN: 

Thank you.

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK:

– really emerges from a deep engagement in the world.

GULSHAN KHAN:

Yes.

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK:

And that to me is a powerful place to start.

GULSHAN KHAN:

Well, that was 2016, right? I only started working as a photographer in 2017. But I was published for the first time at the end of 2016 Hamdulihlah. I mean, someone said to me, I think it was two years ago. He said to me that you’re not actually a photographer and I was quite jarred by that. I mean, obviously I was quite upset. And he said to me, the thing is, and he’s right, I am not a technical photographer in the sense of, I don’t want the latest gear. I don’t want the latest lenses. Don’t ask me about all these things that these new cameras can always do or, you know, I use my camera very instinctively. And I photograph very instinctively. It almost feels meditative. And you can tell I’m struggling to explain this because I don’t completely understand it myself. But yes, it does feel like I’m just, I’m a conduit for something. And I think a lot of us as artists, if we’re working, you know, from the heart and we’re working authentically and I mean, I try…we’re learning every day. We all have our blind spots, but I try as hard as I can to stay close to my heart and when I’m doing this work and to be as respectful as I can.

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK:

You know, when I go to your website and I know our listeners will after hearing this conversation and they’ll look at your work, they’re going to find you chasing waterfalls on Reunion Island. They’re going to see you tracking down rhino poachers on the African savanna. They’re going to see you documenting small town America. What calls you to a particular project? Is there something that happens inside you that says, OK, I’m feeling the right vibration. This is what I need to get into this moment.

GULSHAN KHAN: 

You know, I really wish that I could just feel the right vibration but I mean all the time and then pick and choose. You know, I started working for the wire agencies, so I would photograph all sorts of different stories, right? And you have a choice, but also there wasn’t much choice back then, which I was grateful for because I was doing such, like you said, expansive different topics. I was seeing different spaces, meeting different people, which is always wonderful. So for the most part, yes, I was incredibly happy to cover everything that I covered. I only had one bad experience at the time where I remember not wanting to do this, but also wanting to do this assignment. Almost everything for me, you know in its essence, comes back to some social justice issue or to some politics or history, and that inevitably means that I’m interested in it. And sometimes I have to question whether I’m the right person to do it. You know, who am I in relation to what I’m photographing? What is the power dynamic? And so there have been moments where I have said no to some editorial assignments. This was post working for the wire agency, so I had more of a, I could say yes or no. And I also had to come to a place where I realized that whatever is good for me, Inshallah will happen, you know? And I had to start to listen to my gut about what I didn’t feel was right, and I had to learn that the hard way. And to always be at peace because some people have asked me in the past, is there anything that you would have liked to have covered in history or a moment in time that you would have loved to have been? And no, I’m really, really, truly at peace with where I am because I was not meant to be in those places or to photograph those things. And I believe that if I’m in a place where I’m photographing, that must mean that there’s value in why I’m there and what I need to annotate on this situation or reflect from it. But yes, now if there’s this thing of having to put food on the table and take care of families back home, you know…

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK:

[laughs] That little thing.

GULSHAN KHAN:

…so you know, yeah, just a slight little thing that we have to do that’s always at the back of your head. So it’s not always, you know, it’s sometimes it’s a privilege to be able to pick and choose. But for the most part, I am usually interested, you know, in what I’m presented with in front of me.

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK:

I’m going to use my interviewer’s conceit, Gulshan, and ask you to tell me a little bit about that difficult situation that you alluded to. The bad one.

GULSHAN KHAN:

I’m going to send you my therapist bill after this [laughs]. But I will tell you! I will share it. No, I mean, also, I think that sharing experiences means we can resonate with each other. So what happened was I was working for the wire agencies at the time, and it was a time when there was all this talk about white genocide in South Africa and white farmers being killed. And then Trump had something to say about it and it just went viral. And for us here in the country, we know that that is not true. There’s no such thing as white genocide here, you know? So the agency wanted to do a story on this from the white farmers’ perspective, and I was going to be doing the visuals and how this would work is ordinarily you work with the writer, a videographer and a photographer. And at the time, I thought, OK, there must be at least one person of color on this team, you know, at the very least to do this story. But what I didn’t realize was that I didn’t have complete sort of control of the narrative or how it was going to be presented, and because it was for a wire agency, you’re pretty much producing stock photographs that can be used by anyone for anyone, and would not necessarily be attached to the story that was produced. And so I went on this assignment and was faced with the the last outposts of apartheid and people who were still of the old beliefs that we should be segregated, that life was better before. Some of them straight to my face would say completely racist things, and it was quite traumatizing. And I had to obviously now be in a position where I have a job to do and do that job well. And like I said, it shows in your images. I mean, I think looking back at those images, you can see that I don’t like these people. The way I photographed them. It was not like I had the most respect for these people, you know, and this is where we talk about objectivity and the myth of objectivity in mass media because Western media has told us that, you know, the observance is our objective and journalism is objective, and it absolutely isn’t. We have to be absolutely honest about that. So it was quite a traumatic assignment. I remember getting back into the car and the writer, as we got in, because I was tearing up. I held it in until the moment when I got back into the car and he said, these are like monsters, you know, their beliefs. I just – you don’t realize that this still exists, and it does. And so that was a hard lesson to learn. At the same time, I would not say no to these stories because I think I have grown since then and I have a better sort of hold over how I manage my emotions even and how I manage being around people and how much of what I receive I allow to let in. So it was a tough assignment, but a lot of lessons learned. One of the biggest lesson was because, like I said, that image was from the wires. So they ended up sometimes being used by these right wing publications. And I was like, Oh, ya allah, help me. I remember being in a media room. And these these guys were like, Gulshan, was that you? You made those pictures? No, it was me, but it wasn’t me.

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK:

You know, there’s a pretty remarkable journey and story about how Islam came to South Africa. And I know that part of your work has been to tell the story of South African Muslims in South Africa and Islam. Did you know about that rich history growing up, or is it something that you had to seek out?

GULSHAN KHAN:

I definitely had to seek it out. Even growing up in a very spiritual family, a family who, you know, it was a very much an Islamic environment that we grew up in, but we didn’t learn about our histories, right? I remember saying this at a talk I gave in Amsterdam that I wanted to be Wolraad Woltemade growing up, he’s this white Afrikaans men who saved people from a sinking ship with his horse. That’s what we learned about. And to me, he was a hero and I wanted to be him. So this little brown girl from Ladysmith, Emnambithi wanted to be Wolraad Woltemade. So that is what we learned about, you know, in our history books, we certainly didn’t learn the history of Islam and, for that matter, the history of our own ancestry. I mean, I think also, you know, not to take away from my parents. At that time, I think so many people were just living and trying to live the best they could and trying to make change also, you know? There wasn’t always time to talk about these things, but also and even until now, the histories are painful. It’s not an easy history to talk about. So even when I go home or I talk to my mom or talk to family, some of them are reluctant to speak about the history. But no, we didn’t learn this. Yeah, I had to seek it out.

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK:

It’s a history of of enslavement, of incarceration, of indenture. It’s a history of people, particularly the first Muslims who arrived in the Cape, of Freedom Fighters, really, who were taken away from their homes in Indonesia on this incredible journey brought via modern-day Sri Lanka to Cape Town.

GULSHAN KHAN:

Yes, from many islands actually, from many places.

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK:

Who were incarcerated on places like Robben Island long before Nelson Mandela or Ahmed Kathrada or any of the great names of the anti-apartheid movement were there. It is a really incredible story. But it was one of your photographs, actually, that reminded me the penny drop moment in my relationship with South African Islam. And there’s a photograph in your series of documenting South African Islam of a man who’s wearing a kufi. His eyes are closed, hands raised to heaven. There’s someone playing a simple frame drum in the background. And there’s an incredible sense of devotion. And that photograph transported me back to Masjid Auwal in Bo-Kaap in Cape Town. It reminded me of one of the most moving spiritual experiences my wife and partner, Farina and I have ever had in a Muslim space, and that was in that Mosque and arriving during the beginning of the recitation of the Gadat, this hymn, this litany of remembrance that is so peculiar and germane to the experience of Cape Malay Muslims. But it was the mix of Dutch hymns and Indian gazals and the indigenous music of the people of the Cape who are no longer with us that all of a sudden came together. And it was just, I mean, it seems superlative and like a little bit cliché, but it was one of those — boom — mind blowing moments that I was experiencing something so, so beautiful. What is South African Islam to you?

GULSHAN KHAN:

I want to say first, you know, the fact that you resonated with that image. It was not made in Cape Town, it was made in Johannesburg, but speaks to the shared experience of what a shared faith, not even a shared faith, but just resonance across the board in terms of humanity can do to people. But the Cape Malay tradition, which is also part of my family heritage. I understand completely what you mean when you say it’s something so different to anything else. And I think this speaks to Islam in the Cape in general because it really was, I mean Creole, you know, if there was ever a word to describe the culture. It was really a mix of many, many things. And also, I think we must not negate the ideas of how inspirational it was for slave peoples right, when people were coming together to mobilize to build solidarity, it was using Islamic spaces, Islamic understanding, building community around this to strengthen, you know, that movement against slavery, to give each other hope. And that is very much a part of the origins of Islam in this country. And I mean, for that matter, and I do want to speak a little bit about this, the fact that the first Afrikans, which is later on, became the language of the oppressor, of the white nationalist project. But the first written Afrikaans was in Arabic script. It was the language of the people. Not many people know that. Not many South Africans know this about the language, or that it’s spoken more by people of color in the country than white people. And we spoke it at home. We still speak it at home. But of course, we speak Afrikaps. You know, Afrikaans is a different dialect. But yes, so the Islam of the Cape and the Islam of Johannesburg and the Islam of Durban is also very different to each other. But yes, it is a powerful history in the Cape specifically. The fact that Robben Island, the prison was built not for apartheid dissidents, but for dissidents of colonialism, you know. They were brought here to keep them away from causing trouble elsewhere and banished to Robben Island. And I mean, so much of erasure in this history. We have documentation of Muslims in South Africa, but for the most part, they existed in silos. They didn’t exist in mainstream media. Certainly, they didn’t exist in our textbooks. So there’s that history and there’s also the history of my hometown because we in the Anglo Boer wars, they were fought in Ladysmith, where I grew up. And some of my ancestry from the other side of the family were brought from Afghanistan to fight in the Anglo Boer war by the British. And I’m still looking for gravesites, because most of the graves and the places of historical value were places where British and Boer soldiers died. But we had doctors come from Afghanistan, fighters, you know, that were just not acknowledged. So, yes, Islam is inextricably linked to the politics, to the land, to the history. But yes, piesang is banana in Afrikaans, and piesang is banana in Indonesia. Whereas banaan is banana in Amsterdam, so that alone can tell you, you know, the legacies of this, of the filtration of all Creole languages and culture.

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK:

You know, Creole is such an evocative word, isn’t it? Because immediately you get a sense of unusual things mixing together to create beauty and flavor and taste. And I almost feel like, you know when I look at the photographs that you’ve published and put out there, connected to your Islams in South Africa project in a way, it is this incredible Creole culture because there’s so many facets to it. But there’s one photograph that really stands out for me, and that’s of a girl riding a carousel. She has a hijab, her abaya on. It’s waving in the wind. The picture is a little bit out of focus, but you know, she is like screaming with excitement. And you look at the picture, you smile right away because we’ve all had that experience. And then as you look closer, I’m like, Oh man, I want to know your story and I want to know the story of this picture. Can you tell us the story of that, of that amazing picture?

GULSHAN KHAN:

That is one of my favorite images that I’ve ever made. I’m still when I look at it, I feel like I am her and she is me, and we are just, you know, little girls still, you know, exploring this world. It means so much to me that image. This image was made at the Sultan Bahu Fete, which is, if you know, Sultan Bahu, fascinating story because the masjid was previously a church and a temple, and the church bell is still in the mosque. And a few years ago, I photographed this sort of reunion of communities where the —unclear—- Afrikaner community were invited back to the masjid, and for the first time, these two communities sat in the same space and had conversations because I mean, it wasn’t so long ago when we had apartheid. And for the first time, there were these honest conversations, you know, between two communities. So Sultan Bahu, for me, is a very special place because also, you know, the community has had – and this is the case with many of the Sufi masjids. Where it’s not just a place for men to go and pray. You know, it was, there are clinics and orphanages and old age homes and really community spaces, you know, all encompassing or a space of robust discussion and politics and culture, which is ideally what masjids should be. And so the Sultan Bahu Fete is an annual event where communities come together. You will see so many of the Somali community, you know, Ethiopian communities, many of the Arab communities all coming together. And you would have experienced that when you were here. It’s a sort of transitionary space, migratory space. And the Fete shows that. And when I saw this little girl, I just, you know, I think I stood there for the longest time trying to make an image that I was happy with because it was a pan to show the movement and the joy that I was feeling watching her. There’s very little, not little, but not as much imagery of Muslim girls and Muslim women that show joy, right? You know, African women, African children have always been seen with these sort of you know, suffering and flies in the eyes, and, you know, and just these portrayals of… do not show our full humanity. And so for me, it’s very important to have as many voices at the table in this way to show the full spectrum of our humanity or at least as much as we can as we can of that. Yes, it’s a very special image to me.

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK:

Gulshan Khan, who or what would you like to welcome into your guest house?

GULSHAN KHAN:

Peace. I think that is the continuous balancing act. You know, we can’t take a step forward without being put off balance. So the dua I always make is for peace and to have the ability to find peace continuously because it’s something that is a continuous journey I think will be throughout our lives.

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK:

Gulshan Khan, this has been an honor and a pleasure and a privilege. Thank you so much for joining me on This Being Human.

GULSHAN KHAN:

Thank you so much for having me.

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK VOICEOVER:

Thanks for listening to This Being Human. You can find links in the show notes to some of Gulshan’s incredible photography. This Being Human is produced by Antica Productions in partnership with TVO. Our Senior Producer is Kevin Sexton, with production assistance from Abhi Raheja. Our Executive Producer is Lisa Gabriele. Mixing and sound design by Phil Wilson. Original music by Boombox Sound. Stuart Coxe is the president of Antica Productions. Katie O’Connor is TVO’s senior producer of podcasts. Laurie Few is the executive for digital at TVO. This Being Human is generously supported by the Aga Khan Museum, one of the world’s leading institutions that explores the artistic, intellectual and scientific heritage of Muslim civilizations around the world. For more information about the museum go to www.agakhanmuseum.org The Museum wishes to thank Nadir and Shabin Mohamed for their philanthropic support to develop and produce This Being Human.