Directed by Gregory Molale, LANGUAGE OF MY SOUL is a celebration of an African elder who rediscovered her will to live when she decided to revive a language she was once ashamed of.
Born during a time when there was an official license to hunt, stalk and kill the San people, Katrina Esau abandoned her true identity and stopped speaking her language – N|uu, when she was a 17 year old in 1950. She then identified as an Afrikaans speaking Coloured person (term for people of mixed race in South Africa) until she was 67 years old in 1996.
LANGUAGE OF MY SOUL contrasts an era when the San were denied their humanity and a period when they were finally free to speak their language. This portrayal of the enduring consequences of imperialism and the disappointments of democracy, follows the struggles of a matriarch concerned about her legacy.
In collaboration with international award-winning editor – C.A. Van Aswegen S.A.G.E., Gregory employs his creative vision for a special salutation of an African elder who is at the intersection of race, gender and cultural exclusion.
N|uu is the last surviving member of the !Ui branch of the Tuu language family, with all other members of this branch being extinct. The Language is thought to be as old as 25000 years. Its speakers were the first people of today’s Southern Africa. On average, languages have 20-30 distinct sounds; N|uu has 143. That’s three times more than the English language. The complexity of N|uu is used to get precision of scientific information around the natural system and without the language, we don’t have access to the San’s biocultural heritage. The language is humanity’s heritage and of global importance.
I met the last N|uu speaker – Ouma Katrina Esau, in 2019. What struck me from our first encounter was her immense warmth and the stately grace with which she articulates herself. Learning that for decades, Ouma Katrina abandoned her language and identified as an Afrikaans speaking persons of mixed-race pulled me into this story. I already had some understanding of what the San and Khoi experienced during colonisation, but as someone who is proud of their African heritage, I wanted to fathom the level of fear and shame that compelled her to deny her identity.
But the woman I met in 2019 was nothing like the fearful and abashed teenager I imagined Katrina was when she was a teenager. Her countenance was captivating. To chart the journey of an African elder who is celebrated for preserving a language she was once ashamed of, was a task I approached with a keen sense of purpose.
From the beginning, I felt that even though Ouma Katrina does not have the academic sophistication to unpack the socio-political occurrences that rendered N|uu a language of shame, the story had to be told from her point of view. It’s very common for stories such as this one, to be told through an external and consequently intrusive point of view. I felt that imposing my own ideological leanings would rob the story of its integrity and immediacy.
Language of My Soul is an attempt to immerse the viewer into the psyche and worldview of Katrina and her people, a world full of contrast and contradictions. I relied on a combination of documentary storytelling elements, literary traditions and cinematic techniques to articulate the deeper meanings of these complexities. It was a fulfilling exercise and I hope the audience finds themselves somewhere in this story.