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Contrasting Acts: Bubbly Bosoms vs The Suit

Early Wednesday afternoon I went to watch Bubbly Bosoms a show that disappointed me beyond words. This was an all women cast and production so the sista went to offer her support!

But truth be told, I left there remorseful because I felt the play was unrehearsed. In my eyes, it seemed like these ladies had told themselves that their experience was sufficient to pull off a show without necessarily rehearsing! There was this particular scene where only one person literally remembered to open the door to the taxi when entering. Also, for this particular scene, the driver forgot half of the time that she was sitting behind the wheel. The cherry on top was when the driver just upped and walked straight through the windscreen to join in on the singing (bypassing the steering wheel, of course, and moving towards the left and not the right where her door should be). At this point I wasn’t laughing! I felt like upping and going, but I couldn’t; and this had nothing to do with the fact that I might be well mannered. I couldn’t because I was shocked that a potentially insightful portrayal of struggles of different women joined together by their stokvel membership was being destroyed by an assumption that we were either a very stupid audience or we believed that whoever said that the devil lied in details lied! I really and truly was disappointed because this was a show with a number of acting veterans who should have understood that value for money simply lied in the details!

Later in the evening, I was due to attend yet another show which I had bought the tickets based on the names of the cast and … lets just say I was filled with cynicism. But the cynicism itself wasn’t enough to stop me from going. So I got suited up for a cold Grahamstown weather and went to watch The Suit.

The show didn’t exactly start on time and the theater was packed beyond safety considerations. I sat there before the start wondering how I would escape should anything happen — and this thought stayed with me for a few minutes beyond the start of the show, in part, because of one or two people that were allowed in after the start. As the storyline began to shape up, these fearful thoughts about my personal safety gradually melted away until all that was left was joy and delight.

The Suit is a four person cast show with one of the cast members playing multiple roles in manner that brings realisation to this fact only as an afterthought! There is humour but behind it you get several powerful messages. For example, you get to realise how sometimes the use of alcohol to mask pain may also lead to a distortion to ones character to a point where forgiveness becomes an impossibility. You had this one character whose drunk version brought the beast in him but you could sympathise with him to a degree because you understood that the combination of alcohol and masking a pain of betrayal is lethal!

I truly loved every second of The Suit because the delivery and the meticulous attention to details was excellent. I felt my intelligence was valued and so was my money. The bitterness of earlier in the day was totally removed because these acting veterans appreciated that experience means you don’t stop at working to give your audience quality and value for money show. Thank you to all who worked on this show; it was absolutely brilliant.

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Simply Acoustical Delight

Yesterday I went to see two performances: Simply Blue and Acoustic Soul. Both but in different ways qualified as music to my ears.

Simply Blue is a group comprising of 12 boys from Bishops College, Cape Town. There were fairly good though I felt they were a bit under-rehearsed. I loved their repertoire. However, I didn’t love the fact that each time they didn’t know what to do with their hands they thought putting them in their pockets was the coolest thing to do. I imagine that is possibly cool but I am from that generation where such behavior would have been discouraged by sewing together their pockets …finish and klaar!

After the Simply Blue performance which was good enough to end anyone’s blues, I went to see Acoustic Soul. They were excellent! I went there specifically to see Injairu perform. Seeing her was like watching a woman who has found her voice and her calling in life. She looked ultra beautiful and confident on stage. It really seemed like she had gotten her answer about her calling by having a face-to-face conversation with “Mmopi, Mmoloki, eena ea kalletseng maru”; I am talking about the one and only Alpha and Omega called by which ever name you are comfortable with.

Injairu rocked so did each member of that group. I am merely putting emphasis on her because I was filled with so much pride seeing her perform. I guess to me she was like a flower at spring time blossoming for the first time; in my eyes she ceased being just the baby of the Kulundu’s family.

That said, the entire Acoustic Soul performance was very soulful. I left there feeling a bit poetic and without any doubt whatsoever that a higher being exists though it may be understood differently by different souls.

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Chronicling the Arts Festival

The Grahamstown National Arts Festival has began. I thought it only fitting to start my own chronicles of this year’s event by offering a review of a show named “Chronicles”. (All pun intended ;-))

Chronicles is actually a student production but you would be forgiven if you thought otherwise. It is a contemporary dance piece by Tshwane University of Technology (TUT) chronicling various emotions that we all share as human beings. There was love, passion, sadness, joy and everything else in between that carries the hope and courage to live yet another day.

The first piece, Wallflower Diaries, was about a girl, I imagine about my age, who has read enough romantic novels to last her a lifetime but is still yet to find love. You see the young playful side to her as she evolves to a sexy and sensual being holding on to hope that her perfect other will eventually come. The music together with the sexy black numbers helped a lot in terms of appreciating this evolution. If not that, I guess it must be that I am sold to the idea that French and Spanish music is synonymous with love, passion and all that is sexy :-). One important thing to mention is that there was realism even though the girl was waiting for her perfect other to come. The girl was under no illusion that the ‘tall dark and handsome’ type of a guy exists as they do in novels. This idea was portrayed beautifully by tearing out pages and showing defiance to anyone who might dare suggest lowering one’s standards/expectations! (I am not sure how many could relate to this but I could precisely because I am at that age where others seem to think my being single means I am delusional in my expectations of the perfect guy and yet I expect three things: 1. he must be the right guy for me; 2. he must be the right guy for me and 3. he must be the right guy for me.)

The second piece, I think it was titled Death of Dreams or Memories. This piece was very profound. It was about letting go of old dreams, mourning them and being totally liberated to pursue what the present and future have to offer. Again the music was also instrumental in helping to convey the message. Personally, it took the music together with the dance to fully appreciate that tentativeness that one has after experiencing loss and disappointment. I am talking about that slow urge to move on with life but not quite knowing what and where to go. Then discovering later that you can find liberation in the decision that you made (right or wrong) and eventually you might just learn to be content for who you are not who you thought you might be. As I said, this I found to be a profound piece and because of it I understood why people say life is a dance.

The third and last piece of the chronicles was titled English for Immigrants. It was about loyalty. Watching it, I got reminded of an old TV show called ‘mind your language’. The piece also invoked the imagery of miners doing the gumboot dance, yet the actual dance that was being performed was very different. I found this very interesting because this created a familiar connection to how song and dance are used by immigrants to maintain focus as they work towards a better future for them and those left behind. This focus ultimately is what breeds loyalty that is so strong that elements of patriotism also come to the fore.

To finish off my posting, Chronicles is certainly a must watch performance. It will remind you that dancing through what life has to offer is better than simply sitting it out!

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Anguish of June 16 1976

When I look at some of the images of the Soweto uprising, I see anguish. Yet in that anguish I see bravery and much more.

I see souls that were able to see beyond themselves in order to make things a little better in society. I see consciousness that extends beyond the boundaries of myopic thinking, where the ‘self’ is sacrificed for the general good of society. I see passion, the anguish it brings, but still, I understand: June the 16th had to be!

I hope then that this historic day will inspire the youth like it is intended to. To all the youth of this continent, be inspired!

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Picture Perfect

If the world were perfect, these are the only thoughts that Alfredo (my supervisor) would want me to have for the duration of my studies. Basically, in this Utopian version of the world, all thoughts would precipitate into action that always yields high quality papers. (And of course the relationship between students and supervisors would purely be that of interdependency.)

The ideal research student

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Africa, my Africa!

“A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence stops” — Henry Adams

Today, I am taken back in time, to ntate Oliphant’s class, when I was half my age. He is reciting the poem, Africa by David Diop. As he recites this poem, his voice is heavy, reverent and amazingly captivating; its almost like it is the first time I have ever had him speak but it isn’t! It is merely the first time that I am awakened and connected to my identity. I am awaken to what it means to be an African and challenges that lie ahead in order for Africans to stand tall and not with their backs bent!

Ntate Oliphant, thank you for reciting this poem as you did:

Africa, my Africa
Africa of proud warriors in ancestral Savannahs …
I have never known you
But your blood flows in my veins …
Africa, tell me Africa
Is this you, this back that is bent
This back that breaks
Under the weight of humiliation
This back trembling with red scars
And saying yes to the whip under the midday sun? (ll. 1-2, 5-6, 11-16)

Happy Africa day to all! May we all continue in small ways to work towards an Africa that is peaceful, prosperous and democratic. Mayibuye iAfrica!

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Came for a Reason

Africa without any boundaries is my home. However, once in a little while I meet someone who makes me question whether South Africa is my home.

South Africa is my temporary domicile (until my studies are complete). As a proud Lesotho citizen, I have all the intentions to go back home and when that time comes, no one will have the benefit of saying to me: “khomo, boela hae u holile”. This literally translates to: “cow, go home you have grown”.

In the meantime, to anyone who is intent on making me feel like this is not my home, I came here for a reason. My reason is not to play a game like morabaraba (a strategy driven board game); my reason is to get a dose of knowledge. So please listen to my plea (captured poetically below) and let me be!

Moleko, tloha ho ‘na!
Ha ke ea tla morabarabeng.
Ke tlile ngakeng:
Ke tlisitse sebono eteng.
Ha ke ne ke tlile morabarabeng,
Ke ne ke tlare:itekanye mesikaro!
Ke namane e ts’ehla;
Motho a ka thiba ka ‘m’ae,
Kapa a thiba ka monoana!

Moleko, haeba o na le litsebe, libule,
Haeba o na le mahlo, le oona a bule,
Le kelello haeba e teng, e sebelise!
Hoba ke namane e ts’ehla;
Ha ke rore feela, ke ea loana!

Translation of the above, without getting into the depth of the language is as follows:

Evil one, get away from me!
I didn’t come here for morabaraba.
I came for the doctor:
For my arse to be injected.
If I had come for morabaraba,
I would say to you: weigh your “capabilities”!
I am a yellow calf; 1
A person could defend with their mother, 2
or defend with their finger!

Evil one, if you have ears, open them;
If you have eyes, have them open as well;
And if you have a brain, use it!
For I am a yellow calf;
I don’t just roar, I can fight!

The bold part of the translation is arguably inaccurate. Doctor is ngaka in Sesotho. Ngakeng refers to any place that a doctor practices his/her craft e.g. hospital or sangoma’s chambers. People go to these places to see doctors; hence, my translation. Actually, to be exact, they go there for cure. Just to be indulgent, in the above context, the disease that needs cure can be regarded as either poverty or ignorance. Its all a matter of interpretation!

  1. Yellow calf is a term of endearment for a lion/lioness. ↩
  2. The potency of this statement is lost in translation. ↩
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Journey, Lessons and Reflection

Last night, like I have done many times before, I sat in solitude to reflect and take stock of my life and my journey thus far. I cried, laughed and sighed in absolute despair as I attempted to answer the question: Am I any closer to becoming the Mathe I truly want to be?

I acknowledged with gratitude how far I have come to where I am today. Then, I went on to ask myself the question: how does one truly measure the proverbial journey of a “thousand miles”? Is it by the distance travelled or the distance to be travelled?

I am not sure if there are simple answers but at the same time I wanted to know what emotion was legitimate for me to feel. Sadly, I am not very close to where I want to be.

I want to be at a place of contentment filled with inner and outer peace even when the hand dealt to me is less than ideal. A place where material possessions, money, fear etc play minimal or no role at all in making decisions! A place which in few words affords me the “arrogance of choice” i.e. choice that is driven by my priorities and truth about this journey called life.

Any lessons learnt from the journey travelled thus far?

Arrived or not to where I want to be, it is certainly important to reflect on the lessons learnt. While it is fair to say, I have had many lessons from different varying sources, I have learnt two very valuable lessons from attending “mekete”- ceremonial festivities. I have learnt:

  1. It takes hard work and perseverance to get to the ‘feeding stage of the masses’. One my wake up early to see to it that the cooking fire is burning, but there are no guarantees that all will go well. One may be faced with the task to tell off those acting as obstacles to get out of the way or get in line. One may also have to take shit from others but instead of being humiliated by it choose to take it as a humbling act.
  2. How to recognise and appreciate what privilege means. It is privilege if one can have a single person come to offer assistance of any kind. It is also privilege if uninvited guests can come and simply join in with the festivities, be it there are about celebrating a life that has passed on or a union of a new life to be. In a nutshell, privilege is having at least one person walk with you for the entire or part of the journey.

With lessons learnt thus far, I hope as I forge forward to where I want to be, I have the strength and courage to hold on to my faith, trusting that He and only He who knows the desires of our hearts will help me to my destination. I hope also that I may continue to remember words of wisdom from those who privilege me by walking this beautiful journey with me. I am truly grateful for all the words of kindness, support and encouragement I have received. Words such as as this from Carla Tsampiras: “…  remember that shit and rubbish can also make good compost, especially if balanced with nurturing rain and the warm sunlight of those who do believe in you“!

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