Photo: Aryan Kaganof


The master narrative would have us believe that Afrikaans is the evolutionary linguistic product of the Dutch settlers. Certainly, the academic understanding of Afrikaans, the official language taught not only in South Africa but abroad, is the codified (some will also argue nationalist) project of the white Afrikaner. In so doing, a wedge was driven between the language and the identity of the majority of its speakers. There were school boycotts in the 1970s against Afrikaans as “the language of the oppressor”. In certain circles, Afrikaans is still believed to be under threat thanks to that stain.

As David Kramer and Taliep Petersen’s musical Ghoema some years ago set out to reclaim a Cape musical heritage largely written out of authorized history during apartheid, Afrikaaps is a new theatrical edutainment fighting for the recognition of how Afrikaans developed as a Dutch creolized language amongst coloured speakers outside of this white hegemony.

The first written Afrikaans was as phonetic Arabic script translations of the Qur’an over 200 years ago. The Bible was only translated into today’s official Afrikaans in 1933.

The extremely talented young cast under the direction of Catherine Henegan seeking to set the record straight are hip-hop poet Jitsvinger, singer, actor and dancer Moenier Adams, singer and poet Blaq Pearl, hip-hop artist and activist Emile Jansen, rapper and break-dancer Bliksemstraal, accompanied by composer, pianist and jazz prodigy Kyle Shepherd and musician Shane Cooper. They make a superb ensemble.

Employing music, poetry, dance, skits, documentary and interview video footage, they get their message across in a clear and humorous way. Henegan has dressed the show well, but the shape is problematic, without a coherent trajectory. Ironically, although dealing with ‘gam taal’ and street talk, it feels oddly cerebral and emotionally disinvested. Perhaps, it’s because the very good-looking cast are all male, except for Pearl. One of the principle cast members having to drop out at the last moment didn’t help.

But without a doubt this show is full of rewards and should be seen. So: “Aweh my bru! Koppel die lyne” (Hey! Spread the word).

Photo: Jesee Kramer

Photo: Jesse Kramer
PHOTOS: JESSE KRAMER

After the success of the Three Wise Men last year, popular stand-up comedians, Marc Lottering, Riaad Moosa and Nik Rabinowitz, return once more under the direction of David Kramer to bring seasonal cheer as Three Wiser Men – one Christian, one Moslem, one Jewish.

In each half of the show, they each take a turn at the mike and end with a skit involving all three, the first a rehash of last year, in drag as their alter egos – Auntie Merle, Aysha and Beryl Rosenberg. Between acts, Donvino Prins’s live onstage band provides musical entertainment.

All three have their comic shtick down pat. Rabinowitz makes some political comment, one sketch imagining what happens when the police shoot-to-kill policy is implemented; Lottering has humorous observations around Facebook and end of year parties; Riaad is the freshest with various Moslem and Indian jokes.

It is a new show, yet last time it felt more creative; there were some poignant moments and the emphasis wasn’t so much on verbal slapstick. This time I had the impression I was watching highly successful comics doing their spiel – the Biltong & Pot Roast (of SABC 1970s) for today’s generation.

3 wise men

We have an unfortunate national habit of considering ourselves uniquely dreadful when it comes to bad news. Corruption, incompetence, hypocritical diplomacy, political bullying, the undermining of the judiciary etcetera – these afflictions are alive and well in almost every country. Yet when it comes to those things that do make us as a nation truly special, we don’t seem to see it.

We owe director David Kramer a big thank you, for this is the overriding thought one comes away with from Three Wise Men. In a clever piece of secular, but meaningful meta-textual referencing of the Christmas story, we are reminded with humour of the diversity, tolerance and common humanity of our nation. At the risk of not fulfilling the review brief, it’s worth dwelling on the fact that there are very few countries where an openly gay imam lives at peace within his community, Israeli visitors comment on how little security surrounds the synagogues, and many respected Christian leaders embrace evolution. And so we can have a comic trio from three different perspectives making fun of prejudice to rapturous applause and unselfconscious laughter.

The three wise men bringing seasonal cheer are well known stand-up comedians, Marc Lottering (gay son of a Pentecostal minister), Riaad Moosa (Muslim and a doctor) and Nik Rabinowitz (a Xhosa speaking Jewish comedian), all at their best and never having looked better, especially when they drag up. Each takes a turn, and using a format that might have been suggested by Jay Leno or the Saturday Night Live show, solos and group sketches are interspersed with musical entertainment by Donvino Prins’s live onstage band.

First-rate production values, a healthy balance of broadly appealing material and more poignant moments, the compatibility and measured delivery from the three stand-ups, makes this a soul nourishing entertainment to welcome in the new year.

The Kramer Petersen Songbook
Musical legends Taliep Petersen and David Kramer worked together for two decades from 1986 to 2006, writing songs and creating musicals that have been performed to critical acclaim across the globe from Kuala Lumpur to London and New York. In memory of the late Petersen and to honour their friendship and the musical legacy of their extraordinary creative synergy, David and Renaye Kramer put together a Broadway style show of song and dance to showcase the songs from their many hit musicals. After an unprecedented success in the summer season, The Kramer Petersen Songbook now returns to the Baxter.

Except for two songs the first half is drawn from the musicals District Six (1987) and Kat and the Kings (1995). These are songs of loves and dreams. The closing number Dancing on My Own from Crooners (1992) gathers together a moving tribute to Taliep Petersen. The second half picks up the pace with vibrant ensemble numbers, the catchy beats of Ghoema (2005) and penetrating social commentary from Poison (1992).

A superb cast includes Kramer stalwarts Loukmaan Adams, Alistair Izobell and Mono Dullisear. The inimitable Terry Fortune anchors the show and even pulls off a hilarious turn in drag. Camillo Lombard leads a five-piece band with banjo, guitars, keyboard, drums and Donvino Prins’s mean saxophone. As one expects of a Kramer show, the production values are internationally high. Saul Radomsky’s set is a superlative marriage of style and function.

Petersen and Kramer’s songs are a joyous expression and reclamation of Cape culture, and they have become a part of the cultural fabric of the country. Their songbook is a gift to the nation.

Photo : Lauren Clifford- Holmes

Photo : Lauren Clifford- Holmes


The bushman sheep rustler Koos Sas was shot dead on a farm near Springbok in 1922. He had escaped jail for the murder of a white farmer, though his guilt is disputable given the courts in that time and the outlaw’s notoriety. One Dominee Steenkamp and his son photographed Sas’s corpse, held up with his arms splayed out as if he were a trophy bird of prey, ironically Christ-like. These pictures were mass printed as popular postcards and in a macabre twist sold to raise money for the ACVV, a Christian women’s organisation. The dominee later exhumed the body and took the skull to America. It eventually ended up on display in the Montague Museum, where David Kramer saw it, prompting him to write a song Ballade van Koos Sas which appeared on his LP Hanepootpad in 1983.

Kramer has now developed a full-scale folk ballad musical recounting the story of Koos Sas as told from the perspectives of various characters and with some imaginative elaboration.

Loukmaan Adams gives a powerful and artfully understated performance as the picaresque Koos Sas. Adams is flawlessly supported by Jody Abrahams who plays Hendrik Skilpad, Sas’s slightly simple but honest friend. Abrahams achieves just the right balance between clown and idiot savant. Natalie Cervati makes for a diginifed Lenie, Sas’s love interest which allows for the development of a romance in an otherwise ghoulish tale. Robert Koen works well in ensemble, but feels somewhat wrong-footed in the unsympathetic role of Constable Steenkamp. Perhaps Kramer was hoping to avoid too stereotypical a reading of this part, but we miss some of the robustness in this character which is clearly indicated by the narrative.

It is always a treat to see veteran Nicholas Ellenbogen on stage. He plays Scotty Lennox based on a real buccaneer George St. Leger Gordon Lennox a.k.a. Scotty Smith, of whom Lawrence Green describes in To The River’s End as an “unrepentant and murderous old freebooter”.

With great narrative skill, Kramer uses the story of Sas for his own exhumation – the unearthing of Namaqualand’s dark past. Sas is a victim of the times, a good man caught in a clash of historic forces. The white man’s law has imposed land ownership and property rights on the nomadic bushmen. Transgression of these alien laws that dispossess the bushman of what they took to be inalienable – the mountains, rivers and wildlife – is punished with chains and slave labour. Much of the pathos arises from the consequences of a heartless foreign system of inequitable retributive rather than restorative justice. With Lennox enter the dark themes of this haunting musical. Social Darwinists and amateur scientists are at work dehumanising the indigenous people. They rob bushmen graves wherever they can find them to sell off as human specimens, boiling the flesh from the bones in tubs. ₤5 for a skull and ₤15 for a skeleton made even the living ‘fair game’.

Given these thematic concerns, Kramer has made the astute and correct artistic choice in keeping the music slightly muted. By denying the usual grand reprise and the big number, he keeps the narrative paramount, the mood eerie and tragic. Ballade van Koos Sas is an inventive, layered, moving and beautifully executed work.

Ghoema

Certain countries have systems in which they declare living individuals national cultural assets. Primarily concerned with the preservation of folk art, skills, creative talents and oral traditions, especially with the transfer of craft skills that are in danger of being lost between generations, the system declares individuals to be national treasures and could be enlarged to include talented individuals of the highest distinction – poets, artists, musicians, story tellers.

Having watched Ghoema the other night it occurred to me how much musical history has been lost and distorted. Culture defines our identity and the identity of communities. If people like Taliep Petersen and David Kramer could be declared cultural assets – they could devote time to their passions – which although having tremendous value for all of us – are not commercially viable to pursue. I’m sure Ghoema will do well commercially, but the work that went into it and the research backstage has been going on for over twenty years – not to mention the people out there in the communities who Kramer and Petersen uncovered. As I see it, living asset status would be a bit like being awarded a life long sabbatical.

One could argue that this could be done through funding specific research projects at universities and museums to document the skills, but there is a big difference between going out and documenting and actually having the creative talent yourself to perpetuate the art. It’s about making life sustainable for individuals that embody our cultural identity or are developing it. How else is a poet to live? Besides the concept of “living treasure” or “living cultural assets” seems like much more fun. And it has that aura of recognition – like an honorary doctorate.

Of course government must attach strings – skills and knowledge has to be imparted – but people in this category live to do that in any event.

Japan started its system in the 1950s under the onslaught of capitalism and by 1994 it had 7 categories of performing arts with 36 specific skills, as well as 39 in the applied arts held by 52 individuals and 23 groups.
The Republic of Korea by 1995 had 167 individual holders and 50 organizations. The Philippines have “National Artists” by Presidential Decree, while Romania has a system of living treasures for folk artists and France’s Ministry of Culture by 2002 had elevated over 20 persons to the rank of “Maîtres d’art”.

In South Africa the application could be particularly exciting, and I would argue should be broad and encompass several categories – including creative individuals, our Nobel prize winners in literature for instance, as well as crafters and story tellers who are under siege from modernisation, globalisation, market forces and victims of historical social engineering by the apartheid ideologues.

After all, many of these as yet unidentified living treasures – particularly those in rural areas and practising African oral traditions and crafts – don’t have proper pensions, medical aid or any kind of support in their dotage. Our approach has been to get these crafters to adapt – paint Boeings and make fine art and commercial wares. This has merit too, but some things need preservation not globalisation.