Marikana musical seeks human story in tragedy
With six top awards under its belt, an audacious and well-crafted local work returns to the stage, writes Christina Kennedy
PANGAS AND STICKS: Miners occupy the notorious koppie in the State Theatre production of ‘Marikana — The Musical’
STATE Theatre artistic director Aubrey Sekhabi was scared: scared that the musical of the Marikana massacre that he had gone out on a limb to make would flop. Scared that it was a bad omen when successive trucks carrying the sets broke down en route to last year’s National Arts Festival, forcing him to cancel the first performance.
And scared that his writing wouldn’t do justice to one of the most terrifying chapters in South Africa’s recent history; that the spilt blood of 44 people might be trivialised by their story being paraded on stage as entertainment.
His fears turned out to be unfounded: Marikana — The Musical was a surprise hit with Grahamstown and Gauteng audiences and, in April, walked off with six Naledi Theatre Awards, including best director for Sekhabi.
When Marikana was announced as the year’s best mu- sical, some 20 cast members spontaneously stormed the stage with Sekhabi.
“It was the validation of a long journey,” he said last week. “It could have gone completely the opposite way. And if I’d got it wrong, no one would have cared to see my plays again.”
Now, as the three-year anniversary of the August 2012 tragedy nears, Sekhabi is preparing to restage what may very well be the multi-awardwinning director and playwright’s career-defining work.
The State Theatre in Pretoria will again host this audacious, well-crafted musical, from Thursday. The season ends on August 16 — the very day, three years ago, when 34 striking miners were shot dead by police at Marikana in North West.
As the nation tries to digest the Farlam commission report, Sekhabi is relieved that only the closing “credits” or epilogue has to be tweaked. The substance of the piece will remain intact.
The musical is based on the book We Are Going to Kill Each Other Today — The Marikana Story by journalists Thanduxolo Jika, Felix Dlangamandla, Lucas Ledwaba, Sebabatso Mosamo, Athandiwe Saba and Leon Sadiki.
Sekhabi
recalls
feeling “chilled” when he heard about the massacre, and was intrigued when Ledwaba gave him a copy of the book and suggested staging it as a musical.
“The moment I got to the women’s stories, I realised Marikana is about people — it’s not just about miners shot down. It’s about emotions shared by all of us. It became a human story.”
Ledwaba and Sadiki consulted on the project to keep Sekhabi’s vision aligned with their text, although he inevitably had to take creative liberties: dry facts alone seldom make for compelling theatre. For example, the miner known as “the man in the green blanket” was not at the forefront of the uprising from the start, but in the musical he is.
“The story and structure [of the journalists’ eyewitness account] lent itself to an easy dramatic adaptation,” Sekhabi said.
“I wasn’t struggling with the facts of the piece. Still, people were saying: ‘ Leave it alone.’ And I was thinking: What if this thing goes completely wrong? What if people think I’ve taken sides — or taken the wrong side? Marikana is such a political story; anything could have gone wrong.”
And then there was the little
ASSAULT RIFLES: Police — who would shot and killed 34 people that day — mass at the onstage koppie HONESTY: Director Aubrey Sekhabi voice in his head reminding him that the State Theatre, as a government-funded entity, was tackling a controversial story that directly involved its political masters.
Nathi Mthethwa, the police minister at the time of Marikana, had just been ap-
5-star Dream of Zanzibar hotel pointed arts and culture minister. Would this have a chilling effect on the integrity of the musical? Would self-censorship creep in, to avoid biting the hand that feeds?
“People would say to me: ‘Yoh! You are so brave to be doing this thing,’ ” he said with a chuckle.
Sekhabi visited the site of the massacre and knew that he had to shelve his fears and doubts. “I realised it was actually our duty to do it; our responsibility to tell the story.” And there has not been one iota of censorship from the powers that be.
He also knew that to connect with audiences, it couldn’t descend into a political blame game, but had to tell the human story of the miners and the policemen, and the wives, children and loved ones left behind.
“There had to be just honesty, no cover-ups. It had to come from here,” he said, pounding his chest. “And we had to have the skill to simplify the story . . .
Also enter via www.dstv.com/treasurehunt and www.africastay.com to increase your chances of winning! so audiences could feel their pain, and so we as a nation can heal and deal with it.”
So he sat down and wrote a new South African musical in just three weeks.
Assembling a large cast, led by soapie stars Meshack Mavuso ( Isidingo) and Aubrey Poo ( Scandal!, Muvhango), Sekhabi brought in choreographer Thabo Rapoo and set and lighting designer Wilhelm Disbergen, who devised an intricate grandstand-like structure that served as the infamous koppie while also housing the live band. Both went on to clinch Naledis for their work.
McKenzie Matone, best known for his work with house act Rhythmic Elements, composed the score. It was his first musical — and he also “scored” a Naledi.
But developing the show was emotionally draining. “We could be in an artists’ march; this could happen to us. So do we let this happen again, or do we fight with our minds, our ideologies?” Sekhabi said.
The result was theatre that served “to cleanse and heal and entertain”. As Sekhabi relates: “Audiences came in and wept, and appreciated the art of it. There was a communal sense of congregation; bearing witness.”
What’s next for Marikana — The Musical? “I want to take the play everywhere,” Sekhabi said. “Including to Marikana itself. With humility, I believe this could be the next Sarafina! [the hit Mbongeni Ngema musical about the Soweto student uprisings].
“It’s a play South Africans should see — it tells us about ourselves. We are like a short fuse that can blow at any moment. We need to talk more and be tolerant of others, even if we differ. And as artists, we have a responsibility to look at what’s happening during our times, chronicle it and learn from it.”
This could happen to us. So do we let this happen again, or do we fight with our minds?