‘THIRD WORLD EXPRESS’ UNPLUGGED
A pertinent question considering the world we’re living in
Last Sunday evening I went to the world premiere of the stage production of Third World Express. The show had to be moved from the matinee to the evening in the hope it wouldn’t be affected by load-shedding. But as is the way with the “load”, it was shed ... and shed again. So we watched the first half in the semi-gloaming and au naturel, by which I mean that the wonderful cast of spectacular musicians, the resilient Joburg Theatre and the insanely talented Gregory Maqoma managed to let the show go on.
They belted their hearts out without microphones and with barely a light on stage and created an intimate bubble of delight, which the audience, in our good old South African fashion, helped generate by engaging in the warmest way. Whoops of encouragement alternated with perfect silence in a sublime synergy so the story could unfold and the shimmering spell of theatre that requires us to suspend disbelief could hold. The irony, however, hung heavy in the air. It was so heavy it started to oppress me.
The story behind Third World Express is that in 2016 Shadrack Bokaba, the producer, approached Dr Mongane Wally Serote to adapt his epic poem into an all singing, all dancing stage musical. The good doctor agreed because “we need an inspiration and discourse that will move us forward as Africans here at home and in the diaspora. We need to develop the ability to innovate and to regenerate the energy of our continent with a cultural renaissance that will be informed by our music. We have no choice but to do that.”
He’s right. But the story of Third World Express is brutally honest, in the telling of what was suffered in exile, what was endured at home and how the great hope and dreams of our nation have been crushed by venal self-serving players of the game. As we sat in the darkness and the plot line referenced the fleecing of state-owned enterprises, the audience laughed bitterly. Here we were, caught up in the most awkward of examples of how we have been sold short.
The brilliant LED screens that make the theatre a world-class institution were dark and only a small portion of the collective excellence could shine. Against all bloody odds. Our sheer brilliance in even our darkest moments is always in abundant evidence but, my god, this darkness is a heavy load to bear.