ANTAKALIPA

Kaza Kamba Pan African Theatre Festival II

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Kaza Kamba Pan African Theatre Festival II

The second day and the program was still on fire. We started the day with a Pan African workshop. Led by Zandi Radebe, we discussed what it meant to be African, how it extends to township life, how we relate to each other, the contrast in life pre-democracy and post-democracy, how we can be better as Africans and the morals and traditions lost along the way. The program explored the ideas of Marcus Garvey and what Pan-Africanism meant to him. In essence, it must start with me, then we before it can extend to us, to fill-up yourself first and then fill up the cups of others with the excess water overflowing from your cup. It was a thought-provoking workshop and ideas bounced. Participants in the audience shared their wisdom and ideas, we shared our perspectives and what “Pan African” meant to us. Then we arrived at my favorite part of the workshop, we discussed poetry and words with Lesego Rampolokeng. We talked about form, structures and types of poetry, how poetry is not necessarily a reflection of life because it hinders the perspective of the artist to experience but rather a distillation. Poetry is an expression of one’s intrinsic nature, it is an expression of individuation, if its truthful, it comes from inside and has a unique voice, not copy and paste from somebody else’s work, it has to be authentically you because you can’t be anybody else. We read and explored some of Lesego’s favorite authors and a member of the audience shared her poetry with the workshop to listen to. It was an interactive workshop and we got to get inside of the mind of a true wordsmith who explained all of his work comes from love. I was inspired by that remark because I understand. Although my work comes from multiple sources, love yes, but anger, spite, pain, sometimes hate and disappointment too, I transmute that to create my art. Maybe artists are a miserable bunch. To show, to feel, to distill life in word form, that’s poetry – it’s not about form or structure of language.

We ended the day with an excellent Zimbabwe play titled “Molly’s Street”. The play follows Molly who escapes child marriage and arrives in Chiredzi  southern Zimbabwe. Young and unskilled, Molly becomes a sex worker. Sadly, not long after her arrival her boyfriend murders her. Powerful show that depicts the perils of GBV. Rape, abortion, sex, violence and murder, it’s difficult to watch. We need to protect our girl children. The depiction of Molly’s life is unflinchingly raw and honest. The words are descriptive and emotive. A perfect blend of showing and telling. The show is dramatic and the performance out of this world. Zimbabwean actress Chidochangu Jo Anne Tenga inhabits the world of Molly. She inhabits her psychology, she feels the sensations of her world, understands her struggles, feels her pain, she is totally one with her spirit. The performance is inspired, pure excellence, an example of world class theatre. She is perfect with that performance, how she moves on the stage, her voice intonations, her facial expressions and the emotion in her words. Patrick Tenga compliments the story with sound effects and the general score of the play. He uses drums, percussions and strings. The end result is mezmarrizing theatre. The story is thought-provoking and reflects back socioeconomic factors plauging our communities, Hunger, poverty, aggression, pain, self-hate, hurt, toxic masculinity, GBV, prostitution, abortion, sex and a lack of role models to carve out a better path for coming generations. It’s an important story. Congratulations to Peter Churu for a great show and a deserved standing ovation.

Kaza Kamba Pan African Theatre Festival

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Kaza Kamba Pan African Theatre Festival

I was at Inaugural Kaza Kamza Pan African Theatre Festival, a workshop hosted by the Market Theatre, 14 – 17 November 2024. It is a workshop that commemorates and celebrated everything Africa. It explored the stories of African people, their heritage, their struggles, their art. It was a wonderful workshop, it was rich in its content, it is diverse and came from all over Africa, it is informative and in some cases down right heartbreaking. Europeans have never been our friends, it’s shocking how they colonized our people and weaponized the Bible to take everything from us. It’s unfair how their offsprings are getting richer from our resources while our people inherit poverty. They own the land where our people reside, rule over it, profit over it while they live in their own countries. The film “Skulls of my people” by Vincent Moloi broke my heart. It details the Namibian genocide that transpired from 1904-1907 by the Germans in which 110000 people were murdered pending an extermination order – the first colonized inspired genocide in history. Adolf Hitler studied and learned from the Namibian genocide to implement with the Halocaust. Over 80000 Herero people were murdered and over 20000 Nama people were murdered, some fleed to neighboring countries. They were hanged, shot, decapitated and butchered like swine. Their women were raped and forced to peel off the skins of their dead husband’s skulls so they can be shipped off to Germany for their art galleries and museums. Some 111 years later, the Germans recognise the genocide but won’t apologize and pay for reparations. To engage in dialogue was difficult, they are arrogant, they don’t feel remorseful for the pain of the Namibian people, they just don’t care. “Skulls of my people” seeks to get back the skulls of the Namibian people from the German people.

Not everything was gloomy, there was also a workshop about how stories are told in Botswana by Tefo Paya and Thabang Lelefe. The unique fusion of traditional sounds and rhythm with a modern contemporary voice. The workshop was intimate and powerful. We were in a semi-circle surrounding the two instructors. They are amazing artists, they showed us their crafts by embodying it, performing it, they brought their unique instruments along and shared how they were made, revealed the inspiration behind their works and chronicled life in Botswana. It was the perfect way to start off the program.

We ended off the first day with music by MoRa, one of the best concerts I have ever been to. Poet Lesego Rampolokeng is unbelievable. I am envious how he works his words, he is a wizard, a wordsmith, he is descriptive, creates imagery, rhymes, tells stories, critiques, wity and comical. He tells African stories, our stories about African people and the Jazz music is just exquisite. He is backed-up by an amazing ensemble, Drummer Tumi Mogorosi, Vocals, Cecilia Phetoe, Sibongile Mollo and Themba Maseko, Dalisu Ndlazi (Tuba) Lebogang Komane (Trumpet) and Gontse Makhene (Percussion). It was a satisfying way to end the day.

Be weird

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Be weird

Be weird, do strange things, follow your heart, never let anybody surpress who you are. We all have that inner voice, that inner guide, channeling us to who we truly are. This voice manifests itself in these eccentricities that make us stand out like a nail that needs to be hammered in. The world hates anything that stands out, something that’s different, that’s why we are indoctrinated into a system that teaches us to think the same, to be the same. The conditioning is so deep its starts from when we children at school. We wear uniforms that make us look like everybody else, we follow these social constructs that enable mobilization and control, we shame anything that is different, we follow the curriculum, we weed out individuality and we reward complicity and fabricated standards that cater to the majority. It continues up until adulthood and in the process we lose who we are. We become one dimensional. We are trapped in a loop, we do the same things over and over again. We want the same things. Our dreams get sucked out from our bodies like liposuction. The magic from under our feet dissipates and we stop looking at the world with novelty. We stop trusting ourselves and following our intinuations. We lose our wonder of the world. We die at a faster rate. We lose the fire in our belly. Enthusiasm wanes and the lens of our lives becomes dull and larthagic. We forget who we are. We learn to hate ourselves and the lives we lead. Why do you want to fit into a standard when you are already a standard? We forget the magnificence of life and the miracle it is. A one size fits all approach begins to define us. I say fuck boxes and standards, I am gonna do me. If you don’t like it tough, go jump off a bridge. No one is going to tell me who I should be. The only authority figure in my life is me. Maybe my style is foreign to you, maybe my mannerisms offend you, to that I say go suck a dick my good man. I ain’t changing for you. It’s either you love me or leave me alone and if you don’t feel my style, you don’t exist to me – poof be gone!

I advocate two words that will change your life, words that will enhance the quality of your life and lead to a life of authencity. Be weird, do different things, combine combinations, see different patterns, do crazy stuff, be an outcast, risk ridicule. Be weird, be the minority, embrace being laughed at, risk failure, be unsafe, try out different colors, be unexpected, be prepared to offend. Be weird, no one has to understand, let your inner voice guide you, have the spirit of a child, see magic in the world, see novelty in everything, be inquisitive, draw inspiration from everything, sway away from being normal, be weird. Don’t be afraid of being who you truly are.

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Beauty and the Beast

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Beauty and the Beast

Perfect show, a great theatrical experience. I loved everything about the show. It’s bursting with with imagination. It is grand, magical, energic, interactive, vibrant and refreshing. It is a show that has a lot of enthusiasm, from the diverse cast, the multiple sets that keep on changing, the costumes that transport you to that world, outstanding lighting, the amazing sound and sound effects, the singing, dancing and cheography, the rich story world and mesmerizing performers on the stage. It is so humorous and entertaining, I was hooked from the first moment to the last. The songs had the audience singing along. We even sang Shosholoza. The timeless story of “Beauty and the Beast” is revamped and given more color, it has a South African context, it has personality, it is memorable. Gavascon is my favorite character, he is brash, vain, narcissistic and has that Jonny Bravo “I am pretty” aura. The “macho, macho man”, it’s hard to be humble when you are perfect. But of course, he does give everyone indigestion, heartburn and stomach complications. Last infamous words of his first appearance, “They eating the dogs, they eating the cats”, I thought that was funny. The sound effect when the beast was talking, it was raucous and deep, he growled, he was thundering, he was menacing. The witch is really a witch. She flys on her broom, casts spells and has the most wicked laugh. She is diabolical, she shot the audience with her snort gun and turned the prince into a beast. I can’t believe her assistant ate her snort, proclaiming it’s protein. That was nasty. She really doesn’t give a damn about a bad reputation. Beauty is just refreshing and so beautiful. I loved the donkey, the movements, very donkeylike, comedic and talked a lot, reminded me Shrek. Mama (Fairy god mother) and Bonnyface are charming and relatable, very South African too, uses words in the South African lexicon, like kleva, Soweto and mfanawami. Mama is eccentric, she keeps watch over the story and makes sure everyone sticks to the script of the story. I Loved when Mama, Bonnyface, Beauty and the Dad performed the “friends” theme song. That was nostalgic. The 3 sisters are funny, whinny and an echo. It was great to see the beauty of the ballerina and the character with the bread on his head and torso was very peculiar. Not sure what he was. So I went to Sam and she clarified, Monsieur Brioche, a sweet French bread. Thank you so much Sam. SamSays on the credits. I loved everything about the show. The costumes, lighting and sets are truly epic. I can’t wait for Pinocchio next year, a real favorite of mine. Congratulations Janice Honeyman and the whole team for a great show and a deserved standing ovation.

Our tits, my son

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Our tits, my son.

My son got born earlier in the morning and I am ecstatic. He is a gift from my ancestors and the Universe. I treasure him. He is my gold in a world that’s been digitized; valuable, tangible, priceless. It’s like falling in love for the first time, I am in la, la, land, heaven, a place of pure bliss devoid of the construct of time. I’ve never felt love quite like this, it’s like I am floating on butterflies through the clouds of the light blue sky. He makes me believe in miracles. There is a God, – he is proof, a blessing. I am thankful and grateful for this opportunity. I will teach him everything I know with an open heart and a lot of love. I will guide him. Help strengthen him to make sure he is the great man destiny intended. I’ll teach him about business and wealth creation. I was lucky I was broke and built an empire out of nothing. Being broke is experiencing your own mortality, it is being vulnerable and helpless to effect change or influence outside stimuli, that’s why I worked so hard to be rich, to have the illusion of immortality, to be invincible. You’ll be invincible from the start, girls are going to be sending you pictures captioned “you could tear this up”- I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. I’ll teach him about the importance of having an inner scorecard and not one based on external factors. Don’t claim to be anyone you’re not. Love yourself unconditionally. Respect everyone and beware of placing too much value on material things because they end up owning you, depriving you of your peace and happiness. When you say you are going to do something, do it, no excuses, be a man of your word my son. I’ll teach him about girls and women. True, they are an enigma and I don’t know much about their motivations and thought patterns. They are truly a strange species, unpredictable, highly volitile, sometimes unstable, frightening and devastating like a natural disaster. They are difficult to assess and understand, maybe they really are from Venus and us from Mars, it would certainly explain why it’s inhospitable for man; too much chaos presided, women can’t co-exist with one another and I don’t mean to boast but man is returning to Mars. Mars is a great place filled giant screens that showcase football and other sports daily, the home of Elon Musk, Richard Branson and Jeff Bezos, a place of sport cars and super sleek, fast Teslas, pool tables, infinite alcohol and drugs, no tough decisions, no responsibilities and no circumstances. A place of Goodfellas like Scorsese and De Niro but no death, just collaboration, a brotherhood and positive energy.

But in planet Earth, women are useful as you will soon experience. For one they register and process large quantities of data faster and more efficiently. This is important in the matters of life and death, you need a strong counsel. The trick is just to love and accept them as they are, don’t try to understand them or assert your will on them, understand that disaster might strike at anytime and accept reality for what it is – I think that’s what God intended. Just love them because even with all their uncertainties, they are the most valuable species in the whole Universe, they make life worthwhile, they are the nurturers of life. I’ll give you all the information I’ve attained from my interactions with them. I suggest you seek consultation from other wise men who will also share their experiences and knowledge, this will give you a more wholistic picture. I can’t guarantee concise data regarding women my son, no man can, we are from Mars and they are from Venus.

Of course, there’s this issue of the Oedipus Complex. I suspect there will be some hostility between me and you. You want to possess your mother (my woman) and you are rightly entitled to her. I won’t oppose you son, for the first few months, she is all yours. I will refrain from all acts of jealousy. I know you will appreciate those tits more than anything in the world. Your father is a genius, a visionary and I chose those tits for you. I qualified and discarded a lot of applicants for you to have those perfect tits. That’s my early gift to you because I love you so much. Enjoy them, take your time, don’t rush to get old, drive slow and enjoy the scenery and sensations. Those are our tits, my son, at least for now.

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The suit

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The suit

Sello Maake ka-Ncube, self-explaintory, it sells itself, star power, an absolute legend. Which reminds me. Where is his star? I thought I was hallucinating reality, maybe it’s at the corner? Maybe it’s still in construction? I searched and I searched – nothing. The greats have their star but where is his? He is Archie Moroka, Daniel Nyathi, Sipho Makhaya, a gladiator in the world of T.V and theatre, performed and produced the best, what more must he do? Rueful, a missed opportunity. Give the man his flowers. He deserves them, he is ours.

I was on the square for the opening of “The Suit”. Full house, esteemed individuals and celebrities, the excitement was contagious, Covid style. Everyone was infected by the spirit of the show. A story about betrayal, set in Sophiatown. Tells the story of a wife who commits adultery when his husband is at work and is one day caught in the act. The man flees leaving his suit behind. As a form of punishment, the spiteful husband forces the wife to integrate the suit in their every day life, dinners, social gathering, church, everything. What used to be a duo is now a trio. Humiliated at the gazing and the constant talk behind her back, the wife ultimately takes her own life. The show was humorous, gritty and serious, I appreciated the work of artists. They did their best to tell the story as authentically as they could. However, I did have a couple of issues with the story-telling techniques. Great story but it could have been executed better. Too much telling and not showing. Although the writing was great, it was descriptive and emotive. You got the two perspectives of the partners. They shared their inner most thoughts and communicated their state of mind. We know that Matilda (the wife) felt lonely and the husband oppressed due to his long hours at work. It still felt like a recital, a book reading. Felt rushed and we were manipulated into feeling a certain way. We couldn’t come up with our own conclusions. The audience’s imagination was not allowed to roam around.The show needed to be longer with an interval. Character arcs and ending predictable. I never read the book but I knew the conclusion before time because the narration was leading me there, it told me what to think. The show had elements of physical theatre. It was a good show and the character of Mr. Maphikela provided the comic relief, the audience loved him. He saved the show for me. The set evoked the feeling of Sophiatown. The music added an element of drama and the lighting moved the story. Maybe I went to the theatre expecting another “Nothing but the truth”, maybe I am disappointed it was not that. Tshireletso Nkoane is beautiful, I understand the intruder in her marriage. Job Kubatsi and Lebohang Motaung humorous and didn’t put a foot wrong. They were relatable and when we did have a scene with dialogue and the characters interacting with each other, the show was gold. The show had a lot for 80 minutes, the narration of the story compressed and minimized the performance arts element in it. However, it was still a great show. The audience loved it and it garnered a standing ovation. Congratulations J. Bobs Tshabalala and the whole team and a deserved standing ovation.

Marisa Tomei

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Marisa Tomei

A beautiful creature you are, Marisa Tomei, you light up the room with a smile, a man would go the extra mile to please you. Your beauty makes the orbit move slower, paralyzes like an epileptic with a fit, gives proof to the atheist of your existence, oh yes he exists, you are the proof. A beautiful work of art, talented beyond comprehension, you attract all of the attention and dispel of the tension. Marisa Tomei, you have grace like no other, poise that is regal and a laugh that it not legal. It violates my conscious mind and leaves it in tatters, after that I am weak, unable to speak, incapacitated. It is not of my own volition, your aura is too strong, it makes me act like a little boy and behavior that’s just wrong. Marisa Tomei, you are just my type, perfect in every way. I’ll love you now and forever and there’s nothing anybody can say. You moving at your own pace, living in your own place and winning your own race. Marisa Tomei, I can’t stop thinking about you, you run through my mind like  marathon champion, for hours, for days, for months. I could day-dream about you all day, every day for the rest of my life. I love you. You are everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman.

Strap-on

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Strap-on

I’ve got the real thing here, strap-on’s not necessary, have you clutching your fists, screaming your lungs out, child birth not necessary, avoiding the c-word but I know the section, cutting through the game to reveal that I am the technician. Dildos and vibrators also not listed, girl-on-girl is hot but scissoring is conceited. If you want penetration stay on your back or stay sitted, open your legs and I’ll send you into the abyss like you pitted. Strap-on’s are dumb besides I lick ice cream cones too, lick the top mercilessly to send you outta space, then parachute you back to earth cause this is your base. The G-spot is on the first floor at the back window. I can send my inhabitants if you are a widow. Another metaphor, what? Cake? I am cookie monster for heavens sakes. Give me eggs and I’ll butter her up to show you I can bake. Rising to the moment to stick my warm meat, while strap-on’s are cold like an empty seat. Strap-on’s and vibrators got no soul, while my creampie you can contain in a bowl. I’ve got the real thing here and it’s better than a strap-on, it’s warm, goes all night, can work at a moments notice and something you can rely on, different strokes means different tempos, a race you can bet on. Strap-on’s are ridiculous, vibrators and dildos too, I also suck like I came to lose, present your breasts and I’ll never choose, devour your whole body like an alcoholic with booze. Girl-on-girl hot but stupid with a strap-on, pussy tantalizing but a corpse with a strap-on, if your nigga a pussy with a Strap-on, get a real nigga with a dick you can slide on.

Coal Yard

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Coal Yard

Just about the greatest thing I’ve ever seen. Story-telling on another level. Outstanding show, amazing performers. They were filled with enthusiasm and outflowed with energy. They were relentless on the stage, they were always moving, doing something, complimenting the current act, serving out sound effects, being props – I am not surprised they were sweating. Absolutely no set, just an empty stage and they created magic. Effective story-telling is centered around the premise of showing not telling. The show is a prime example of that premise. Since there is no set, the performers imitate the sound of props. From vacuum cleaners, matches, chairs streetching on the floor, cars, doors, just about everything. The show also has a catchy soundtrack that is sang by the cast members to indicate that time has past or a change of scenes or tempo. It’s literally like watching a movie on stage without the sets and big budget. They paint a picture so effective with the mimicry of props and their sounds and their movements on the stage. The performers are in sync, they work well with each other and assist each other all the way through. Every scene is clear and vivid, it’s descriptive and rich in detail. The transition from scene to scene is seamless, it just flows, it doesn’t even matter that the performers, perform multiple characters. All gents cast and they managed to play ladies, comical but convincing too, they captured the essence of being a woman. It’s unbelievable how they played so many characters effectively. The show is supremely entertaining and funny. It captured the human condition beautifully, they imitated life on the stage and it was artful. The performers are expressive, they make use of the stage to perfection, jumping, running, crawling all about. They have energy. They are full of life. They are humorous. It’s difficult to look away, they are captivating and the different characters command your attention. I have to say Mr. Naidoo is exploitative. Paying someone half-price because he is shorter is ridiculous.

The show contains a three act structure and the hero has an redemptive arc at the end. A story of a man fleeing home owing to sexual abuse by his father. The depiction of this sexual abuse is tasteful and not vulgar and forceful. Instead a container of “Baseline” (Vaseline) is held up for the audience to see, this communicates what is transpiring in the scene. An effective way of saying something, without really saying it. It’s suggestive and effective and works well considering the sensitivity of the subject matter. After the hero flees from home, he gets a job working at a Coal mine and later meets a girl he falls in love with. Traumatized by his father’s sexual abuse, he has a problem performing and ultimately the girl looks the other way, searching for greener pastures. The story comes full-circle when the hero comfronts his father now in prison for his sexual abuse. The story is told by committed actors who are creative and have a lot of range in their arsenal. They love what they do, they were having the time of their lives on the stage. The tone is easy-going and relatable for the average South African of color. No need for fancy dialogue and words, a mixture of “vernac”, “tsotsi taal” and English will do. The lighting of the show is incredible, it too tells and moves the story. Powerful piece of theatre, so artistic and satisfying.

My hat goes off to the performers, Diphapang Mokoena, Tumelo Mokoena, Abongile Matyutyu and Mbovu Malinga, one word – unbelievable! Amazing creatives who literally created magic on the stage. Also, well done to Nomvula Molepo, the lighting designer who helped the artists create this magic. The lighter was gorgeous! SamSays on the credits, another great one Sam. Thank you for sending me out to review this masterpiece. Congratulations Prince Lamla and a raucous standing ovation.

Second chance

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Second chance

I satisfied 3 women this month, it’s been a good month. I worked hard, I deserve all the acclaim. Of course it could be hot air, women fake all the time. A woman friend of mine spilled the beans and notified me she was faking when we were together. All the moans and groans were an act, she was faking her orgasms. Worse is that I thought I gave a good account of myself, when she broke the news I was devastated because everything was predicated on that moment. It made me think of how many women were faking when were together. She doesn’t even want to give me another chance to redeem myself. She says it would be weird and would ruin our friendship. Disappointing analysis, when has sex ever ruined a good thing? Ironically, not having sex is what will ruin our relationship. Cause right now I am all insecure and I need some feedback, I know I could do better, time has elapsed and I have experience under my belt, the act of lovemaking has become an art, I could make her orgasm and it won’t be an act. I hate it, it’s like she’s got weight over me, she’s got control and power, says she was sparing my feelings and boosting my confidence, how emasculating is that? I’d rather she lay in bed a mute, at least I’d know I wasn’t doing shit. But the faking, the deception, that’s unforgivable! I feel like my whole life is a lie. Still I doubt it, I’d know if she were faking, I mean, what am I a moron? I know myself, I am industrious, I work hard, I don’t believe it, she sang high notes. Being stoic is good and all but women talk, the grapevine is a dangerous place for a bachelor. I don’t think I am crap but I need a second chance to redeem myself. I could do better, I need more raving reviews. We can make it transactional, it doesn’t need to mean anything, I am enlightened, I pay attention, I can deliver a cascade of orgasms, I can prove it, I have 3 happy reviews and it’s midway through the month. I need my second chance or we won’t survive as friends.