Let art connect us to young minds
What ‘The Fall’ wants to portray is the nature and the journey of every character in the play
A NUMBER of arts festivals are held during the course of the year, of which the Grahamstown Festival and the Klein Karoo Nasionale Kunstefees are probably the biggest and most well attended.
However, a number of smaller festivals also take place. Recently, during the first week of this month, the Aardklop Kunstefees was held in Potchefstroom. I could not attend, but productions received favourable reviews.
On a radio programme, one of the organisers of the festival said that art offers a profound way in which to express feelings, be they of happiness, sadness or anger. This may not be a novel thought; nevertheless, it is important to hold on to a point like this.
The next day the supplement to Die Burger (October 8) published an interview with ex-drama students of the University of Cape Town who had been part of the #FeesMustFall movement, which followed the #RhodesMustFall movement, while they were in their final year during 2015.
These students have completed their studies, and came together to write, direct and act in the play entitled The Fall, which is staged at the Baxter Theatre. In what follows, I refer to the #FeesMustFall movement and the #RhodesMustFall movement as “the movement”, since what the ex-students in question portray relates specifically to the University of Cape Town.
The Fall relates their experiences and frustrations. They act out the dissension that existed amongst members of the movement, but which were often not portrayed in the media. They show how leaders of the movement did not always share with members of the movement their plans, and kept these from the media.
One of the players in The Fall says that there are many misconceptions in the media about their motives. Another says there were many different ideas, thoughts and personalities in the movement, and there were often clashes.
What The Fall wants to portray is the nature and the journey of every character in the play. Importantly, the players say that they do not want to excuse the actions of persons in the movement, but hopefully the play makes students more accessible to the public.
The play “places people in a situation where they are forced to think about whether they would do the same in such a situation. At the moment there is no understanding of the trauma or anger we felt”, one said.
The Cape Times (October 13) headlined an article about The Fall: “‘The Fall’ conscientising the world”. I would not say that it is the intention of the players of The Fall to conscientise.
According to one definition, to “conscientise” is to “develop a person’s consciousness of their rights, especially in order to free themselves from oppression”. What the players in The Fall do is to ask people to “step into their shoes” and try to understand the “trauma or anger” they felt. This is somewhat different from conscientising people. And it is a healthy state of affairs if there can be a dialogue, via the play, amongst the players and audience.
On a note, not necessarily related specifically to the players in The Fall, however much I support protest if it is about a worthy cause, I cannot condone looting, setting fire to buildings and destroying university and other property.
Then there is the case of two security guards who were locked in a burning room. Surely, charges of attempted murder should have been laid – perhaps this did happen.
The kind of noise generated by some of the protesters precludes dialogue, it silences opposing voices, and is profoundly undemocratic.
To return to the players in The Fall; what I wish to highlight is that here we have a group of young persons who have made their stage debut. One of the actors was also the producer.
The staging of the play was made possible by the Baxter Theatre, it seems. Without financial and other support, stage drama cannot happen. This holds for all forms of the performing arts. Over the months I have read and heard about various forms of the performing arts – dance and song, for example – being financially underwritten by one or other sponsor.
The talent in question was mostly young talent. Without this sponsorship that talent could not be showcased and developed.
It is also necessary to encourage the emergence of new talent in the arts. In this regard, I am pleased to relate that the Distell Foundation has adopted a worthy initiative. During 2015, Distell engaged Adam and I in discussions about an award for young scriptwriters (drama).
During the first of these discussions I pointed out that it would perhaps be more appropriate to think in terms of debutant writers, instead of young writers. After all, how young is young?
The prolific poet TT Cloete made his debut at quite an advanced age. He was a debutant poet, but certainly not young, if one thinks of youth as ending at, say, thirty.
More conversations in this regard followed. Finally, now, in discussion and agreement with Distell, I write the first words about some details of the award Distell envisaged, and which has now become a reality with the signing of a contract on September 21.
The contract states that “The Distell Foundation or its nominee would like to employ, display and generally utilise the person and identity of the late Professor Adam Small and his widow, Dr Rosalie Small, in their respective capacities of respected author and teacher of philosophy of education, in material for promoting, advertising and marketing a scriptwriting competition aimed at supporting diversity in language, race, culture and gender, and celebrating and enhancing inclusivity”.
Distell will soon be putting out material to publicise the award, and will invite all aspirant scriptwriters to submit their texts to the forum that will be indicated in said material. The award is named the “Adam and Rosalie Small Award for Debutant/Debutante Writers”.
Neither I nor the estate of my late husband will receive compensation for the production and commercial use of any promotional material.
On a different note, my last meeting with Distell personnel before the signing of the contract took place in a small restaurant which I shall call The Bistro.
A few days ago, my sister and I went to The Bistro to have a light lunch. Uncharacteristically, the doors were locked and a sign said “Closed”. I investigated, and found a notice which said “Under liquidation”. I was devastated. I experienced the liquidation as a death, a loss that can never be recovered. Over the past months, a number of persons close to me have died, and I experienced this liquidation as another death in the wake of all those foregoing.
The Bistro may have operated under different names in the past, but her essential character remained the same. She was like a good friend, always welcoming us, and whomsoever we took to her. For decades we have found her to be wonderfully unassuming, and she became one of Adam and my two favourite restaurants. We have often gone there for family celebrations, to meet with friends over lunch, or simply to sit quietly on an afternoon, enjoying each other’s company.
Now The Bistro has gone. I have to say goodbye to a dear friend.
I conclude this piece with two lovely memories. We were having lunch with friends at The Bistro, when they wanted to know when Adam’s next work would appear. Not long after, Maria, Moeder van God, Adam’s last play, was published (Naledi, 2015).
The memory of my meeting with the Distell Foundation in The Bistro shortly before the signing of the contract will always forge a link between The Bistro and the Adam and Rosalie Small Award for Debutant/ Debutante writers.