Why South Africa Needs a National Meme Museum
1
0
1
0
South Africa has many museums—art, history, apartheid, military, transport, even a few that mostly exist to confuse tourists with gift shops and overpriced coffee. But there’s a glaring gap in our national heritage strategy, one that threatens to undermine the cultural backbone of our entire democracy.
We do not, I repeat, do not, have a National Meme Museum.
Let that sink in.
A country this rich in digital chaos, expressive reaction images, and unprovoked online shade deserves better. Our memes are more than just online noise—they’re cultural artefacts. They are how we, as a proudly dramatic nation, process trauma, joy, politics, load-shedding, potholes, and pap.
If France can have the Louvre, surely we can have the Laaiv. With a full wing dedicated to the “o jewa ke eng?” lady.
1. Our Memes Are Oral History (But with Data Bundles)
Long before we had libraries or degrees in cultural anthropology, South Africans told stories around fires. Today, we tell them through WhatsApp voice notes and reaction gifs. Memes are our new folklore.
Zulu Scooby-Doo didn’t just go viral—he became a legend. The woman dramatically removing her shoe during a confrontation didn’t just meme herself; she gave us a visual proverb: “I said what I said, and now I will throw this Croc.”
These are not just jokes. They’re digital storytelling traditions, passed down from Facebook aunties to Instagram reels, sometimes losing resolution, never losing power.
2. Load-Shedding Deserves a Dedicated Exhibit
What other nation has turned national power failure into high art?
We’ve got memes about Stage 6, memes about Eskom’s CEO applying for leave, memes about candles staging a comeback, and memes about washing machines that have forgotten what electricity feels like.
An entire Load-Shedding Wing could feature:
- The Rotating Schedule Wall of Doom
- The Candle Collection: Romantic Tragedy Edition
- An interactive experience where the lights go out just as you’re enjoying the “Free WiFi” sign
It would be moving. Emotionally and physically. Because there’s no power.
3. The Influencer Room Would Be Iconic
From “I’m a girly just wanna live my best life” to TikTok skincare routines under R35, South African influencers have given us gold.
The museum would honour their service to our serotonin levels with:
- A hall of sponsored content gone wrong
- Live readings of real influencer apologies
- A hologram of that one guy who shouted “Please man!” while falling through a table at a groove
And yes, there’d be a velvet rope in front of the ring light.
4. The “My Broer!” Section Would Be the Loudest
You know the one. Screaming into the mic. Flapping his hands. The energy of a rugby dad at 2am, explaining why Braai Day is a spiritual practice.
“My broer!” memes are more than just shouting. They are expressions of male vulnerability wrapped in hypermasculine posturing and a dash of Castle Lite.
This exhibit would feature:
- Sound-proofed booths so you can scream “WENA!” without judgement
- A 360-degree projection of chaotic WhatsApp voice notes
- A Braai simulator with no salad, no tofu, and one man refusing to let anyone else touch the meat
It’s art. It’s fire. It’s cholesterol.
5. SA Twitter Deserves a Warning Sign
South African Twitter is not for the faint-hearted. It is a battlefield. A gossip circle. A courtroom. A political theatre. And a weekly cooking competition where people post meals that defy logic and basic seasoning.
The SA Twitter Room would include:
- The Great Pap Wars of 2019
- A timeline of Black Twitter chaos moments
- A tribute to Meme Lords like @AdvoBarryRoux
- Red warning lights above every tweet with the words “not to be that girl, but—”
It’s history. With spelling errors.
6. There Must Be a “I’m Not the One” Display
The meme of the woman in leopard print throwing off her wig mid-argument lives rent-free in our minds. That moment was pure rage, sass, and trauma response all rolled into one.
This exhibit would offer:
- A wig-throwing simulator
- Re-enactments of iconic TikTok clapbacks
- A quiet reflection room featuring the quote: “Don’t try me. Try Jesus. Because I throw hands.”
Spiritual. Powerful. Slightly unhinged.
7. Educational Programming? Sorted.
This is a real museum after all, so let’s get educational:
- Workshops on “How to Meme Responsibly”
- Talks titled: “From Minions to Mayhem – A Timeline of Auntie WhatsApp Culture”
- School tours where learners can learn how to tell someone to voetsek respectfully using Spongebob font
8. The Archive: The OGs Must Be Preserved
We cannot forget the roots. The old-school BBM memes, the Mxit taglines, the early days of “I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking” meme formats.
In the Archive Wing:
- A replica of a Nokia 3310 displaying blurry memes from 2009
- The “Tsek” wall, a tribute to the most versatile word in online South African culture
- Screens you have to shake to scroll through—just like we did when airtime ran out and your phone froze
9. Meme Merch Store: Take the Chaos Home
Let’s be honest, no one leaves a museum without merch.
The gift shop would include:
- T-shirts with “Eish!” printed in Comic Sans
- Glittery mugs that say “Soft life advocate”
- A plush toy version of the “Yoh But Why” crying face
- Candle-shaped keyrings for when Eskom strikes mid-loot
You’d leave broke but spiritually fulfilled.
10. Because This Is How We Cope
South Africans joke about things we should probably be crying over. Corruption? Meme. Load-shedding? Meme. Inflation? Meme with extra cheese. Our humour is our protest. Our catharsis. Our national defence mechanism.
Creating a Meme Museum isn’t about glorifying online nonsense—it’s about acknowledging the resilience and wit of a nation that refuses to go down without laughing.
It’s about saying: “We see you. We hear you. Your clip of someone running from a goat while shouting ‘Hayibo!’ has cultural value.”
Final Thoughts
We need this museum. Not because memes are silly, but because they’re sacred. They are artefacts of our survival, our wit, our uniquely South African chaos. In a country where reality often defies logic, memes give us power. They help us process pain with laughter, connect with strangers through screenshots, and preserve our collective madness with pride.
So let’s stop pretending they’re just “internet jokes.” Let’s give them the gallery walls, interactive exhibits, and dramatic lighting they deserve.
And when that day comes, I will be first in line—wearing a “My broer!” cap, holding a packet of NikNaks, and nodding respectfully at the giant portrait of Zulu Scooby-Doo.
