A potted history of SA at Tannie Evita’s imbizo
MORDANT satire, insightful political comment, brilliant topicality and whimsical, but intelligent humour – all the elements that have endeared Pieter-Dirk Uys to audiences for decades are abundantly present in this latest offering from the comedian in the guise of his alter ego, Tannie Evita.
The show amounts to a potted history of South Africa as seen from a perspective that eschews the traditional chronicles of events, from the arrival of Jan van Riebeeck to these shores in 1652, through successive invasions, the Great Trek, apartheid, and liberation, to end in the murkiness of contemporary politics and state capture.
The context of this invigorating narrative is an imbizo organised by Tannie Evita at Theatre on the Bay, which lends authenticity to the exercise while giving Uys scope for some gentle harassment of selected members of the audience.
Part one of the two hour-long monologue, aptly described by Uys as “Queen Lear”, has the performer in all the glory of a faux leopard ensemble with bling as he/she deals with non-delivery of equipment for the event.
A Malema doll abandoned on a ladder is joined by a Tutu doll as the lady talks non-stop on every conceivable topic, from fake news to bobotie, carpeting in Parliament, Donald Trump, the relative weight and merit of books by Mandela, Mbeki and Zuma, toilet paper from Zimbabwe, Jessie Duarte, bad diets, and the British Royal Family.
The fluent script is punctuated by a barb-aminute until, exhausted, the speaker shoos the audience off to refreshments at interval.
Part two brings the new version of this country’s history as the imbizo finally gets under way – and a very alternative one it turns out to be.
All the long-accepted “facts” of South Africa’s evolution since the mid-17th century are turned inside out, identities questioned (it seems Maria was Van Riebeeck’s mother, not his wife); the Battle of Blood River was actually a jolly braaivleis misrepresented in classrooms as a violent event; and state capture is nothing new as Paul Kruger did it first. And just when this all starts to seem a little silly, the harshness of present reality is brought into the equation, to sobering effect.
Uys prefaces the second section of the show with a statement in the style of recovering alcoholics at an AA meeting (“Hi, my name is Evita and I’m a racist”), and by the end of the exercise, proclaims, “Hi, my name is Evita and I’m a South African”. Mirroring this reform are two cactus plants, the one representing the past and the other, the present – with muted hope for the future.
Satire makes way for philosophy as pleas to respect our hard-won freedom and act with energy take centre stage; our roots, history and culture are precious, whatever our racial origins.
With its light and shade carefully balanced, its quirkiness countered by serious issues, and its relentless pace, Evita Bezuidenhout and the Kaktus of Separate Development has Uys at his ebullient best to entertain his audience while exercising its collective mind.