The suit

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.

I know

I know

I see all your pretensions and theatricalies,
staged with meticulous acting and false modesty,
masked in deceits that hide your true identity
like a VPN.
I know you’re a pretender.
A bystander.
I know you’re the one spreading rumors, tarnishing my name like a slander.

I know the humorous stories that you tell,
Mr. Comedian,
Kevin Hart,
“Laugh at my pain”,
I hear everyone is amused.
Why wouldn’t I be happy for you,
I am bemused.

My fingers are crossed like a Christian,
I hope you make it.
I love your crowd and how they reciprocating your energy,
you’re in sync like a Mexican wave.
Timid with your little skirts hiding in the cave.
Bitches!

I know you are intimidated by my greatness
and you pray for my downfall like a drought.
The sky is clear and I am still reigning.
I see your insincere smiles and back handed comments.
Moving and inhabiting my space like a comet.

You tell on yourself like a mirror
reflecting all your fears and insecurities.
You lack an inner campus and that’s just one of your propensities.
I know,
I reside in your mind rent free like a landlord, struggling to straighten me out like a phone cord, listen,
press record,
spoiler alert,
I win,
you might as well be reborn.
Bitches!

I know,
I know,
you worship the land I walk on.
Imitate my style
and would like my life for a mile.

I know,
I am everything you yearn to be.
I know I haunt your conscious reality.
I know you wanna be me.
Silence is not weakness,
I see everything like big brother,
trust me,
I know.

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