A break down of RAISING LAZARUS is to come, I am just
waiting for some pictures and I will write about it. That deserves a post of its
own!
So the rest of the week was a whirlwind of performances.
I must say SA poets or at least the ones I had the pleasure
of hanging out with were pure and utter fire.
Mbali Vilakazi an amazing woman who created a theatrical
poetical piece, dealing with immigrants, using the real voices of immigrants
she had interviewed.
An artist who is eager to try something different, eager to
push the boundaries of theatre and poetry. Meeting her made me realise how
lucky I have been to have been given the space, time and facilities to develop
my poetry into theatre and to have been given spaces to play and develop. I
hope she is given the same chance. Artists all over the world are literally dying
to be heard, dying to create, dying to be able to put their work forward and be
recognised and appreciated.
It was a piece, which had me enthralled, as it was dealing
with a subject Europe is struggling with. South Africa is not the only country
which is having a hard time accepting immigrants.
Another poet who blew me away was Lesego Rampolokeng. I
spoke about him previously as we had visited Clairmont school together. He
launched his book, described as part memoir, part poetry “A half Century Thing”
and during a live interview on stage spoke about the book and the issues it
dealt with.
A man who has lost none of his passion for life and none of
his passion for tacking head on the issue of race and the legacy of apartheid.
He has a sense of humour, which is both funny and devastating at the same
time. I have yet to read the book, but
you can bet your bottom dollar I bought a copy, I would willingly eat every
word this man has to give.
The South African artists I saw have a way of pulling words together,
which can make you hurt, smile freeze or move. Some people spoke in Zulu or
other languages, languages that created a barrier which I could not break through.
But you know what, I enjoyed listening to their rhythms and
I enjoyed listening to these unfamiliar sounds, I was glad they spoke their own
languages it just made me wish that I to had my own language to speak.
Each morning the ladies serving breakfast would laugh at my
terrible attempts at Zulu, but even though they laughed they would still help
me out and repeat things until I got it right or as right as I was ever going
to get them. I have a little notebook I carry around and I am not ashamed to
whip it out, when I need to, to find a word I have forgotten or to learn a new
word. One can have no shame when trying to learn something new.
A cut in funding meant I was the only overseas poets, bar Nii Parkes who claimed both U.K and Ghana, (where he is now living) when
usually they have quite a few. I have not seen Nii in goodness knows how long so it was wonderful to catch-up with him, hear him perform and re-acquaint myself with him.
That worked fine for me, it meant I saw a lot
more SA poets than would usually attend and I was saturated with amazing SA poets.
There are too many amazing poets to mention all of them so I
will post pictures and leave comments under those pictures.
I want to mention Celiswa Majali We
hit it off and I shocked her one morning, when Nokolunga taught me her name
over breakfast, and I suprised her by saying it. You see the first letter in
her name is a click, and it took a while for my mouth to get used to that
click, but eventually after a lot of fighting between my lips it did.
Here is Celiwsa during at set at Poetry Africa, she is a great performer who performs in English and Zulu.
The final night’s celebration was an open air festival on a
windy but well attended night, I can’t ever remember being at such an event in
the UK. Poetry here is taken very seriously and the energy and vibe was too
nice.
I wrote a piece that night at the dinner table, and created
a chorus, which Celiswa and I practiced, then when it was my turn she jumped on
stage and we done our thing. The audience must have liked it as they joined in
with the chorus. By then I had nothing more to say really, I had already
performed two sets of poetry, and Raising Lazarus and performed in two schools.
There was nothing left to say to be honest. This piece called “AFRICA YOU ARE”
was all that was left.
AFRICA YOU ARE
You are, you are, you are my Africa
You are, you are you are my Africa
You are, you are you are my Africa
You are, you are you are my Africa.
You are my salvation and my damnation
The reason I am lost
And the reason I am found
You are my mother and my father
My teacher and my corrupter
You are the grease that soothes my cracked and parched skin
You are the lost child within.
You are my womb fertile and overbearing and words
And barren in seed,
Africa you are my confusion.
The place I should call home
But you are the one place I do not know.
You are a stranger
But stranger but strangely familiar
You are, you are you are my Africa
You are, you are you are my Africa
You are, you are you are my Africa
You are, you are you are my Africa.
My colonised tongue struggles to hold you
You slip through my vowels
Passing through like water
You are the dark patches on my knees,
The thickness of my lips
The scoop in my back
The mystery in my eyes
and the black sweetness between my thick thighs
You are the struggle in my spirit
The ancestor in my fingertips
You force me to stand when I prefer to sit,
To scream when I prefer to stay silent,
Walk when I wish to crawl,
You are my contradiction
You are my pain, my joy,
My orgasm, my prison,
You are the struggle within,
The innocence and the sin,
The blood, the tears,
The black anger, the black fears.
You are, you are you are my Africa
You are, you are you are my Africa
You are, you are you are my Africa
You are, you are you are my Africa.
Kat Francois
The chorus is a little sad and mournful, but I guess that
was how I was feeling, the end of the festival, the end of a week of talk and
debate and discussion and poetry, and running around and eye opening
conversation. It would be a week I would not forget in a hurry.
ICEBOUND MAKHELE
He had a wonderful energy and flow and one of his poems had the whole audience chanting." Burn dem, and destroy them." Powerful words, powerful performance.
VUS'UMUZI PHAKATHI
An funny talented poet who also takes on the alter ego of a singer, just what was needed after night of poetry and intense words.
MTHUNZIKAZI MBUNGWANA
A poet who performed mainly in her traditional tongue and although I did not understand it was wonderful to hear her, a great performer is a great performer and this can transcend language. Her pieces covered rape and male circumcision.
THANDO FUZE
This poet was a joy to hear, young passionate and dealing with gender issues, which many others would shy from.
One of themes memorable performers was NTSISKI MAZWI, she was an amazing, a well known singer/poet/songwriter who performed along alone side a very revered Durban musician. On the final night she was joined by some school children who sand and harmonised up a storm, I am not lying when I say it was one of the most beautiful things I have heard. The joke is Rob has a track of hers he played regularly at Word4Word, he was gutted when he realised, after the festival who she was.
There are still more poets and I will continue to introduce to them.
Poetry Africa was an amazing experience, and I am grateful for it, grateful for everyone who made it happen, and that I was even able to get out here in the first place. Travel is only ever a good thing, a chance to connect with others, talk, debate, discuss but most of all listen. Who would have thought that poetry would take little old me to the Motherland.
Yes I know these are things we know, things we have heard before, but when you hear if from the mouth of the horse when you see the impact it has, it's a whole different story.
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