Photo: Sean Wilson

Photo: Sean Wilson


The old dichotomy of the wicked city versus the rural paradise became a dangerous myth in South Africa. It abetted the missionaries (‘to evangelize the noble savage and save the fallen township dweller’); helped the white liberals patronize lesser mortals (‘blacks aren’t ready for the sophistication of the city’); and in the mouths of the apartheid planners, was used to justify separate development, urban influx control and to deracinate entire populations. Some traditionalists continue to play upon this same rural idyll.

Magnet Theatre’s beautiful work ingcwaba lendoda lise cankwe ndlela (the grave of the man is next to the road), mostly avoids such traps. Hell and paradise are in people, not simply place; the journey, the search for identity is the nexus here. Pain and suffering, love and longing, arise from the relationships between characters as much as dislocating circumstances that continue to bedevil life for many economic migrants.

To give up the journey, to no longer wish ukuba sekhaya (to feel at home), this is what it means to be lost. There is an isiXhosa saying, ‘akukho ndlela ingayi ekhaya’ (there is no road that does not lead home).

A loop of video footage shot by Sanjin Muftic on the N2, along which countless young, black South Africans journey between Cape Town and their roots in the Eastern Cape, forms the background for this pulsating, richly textured, multimedia production.

Director Mandla Mbothwe employs a plethora of theatrical devices – traditional story-telling techniques, Magnet theatre’s hallmark physical theatre, music by Nolufefe Mtshabe, dance choreographed by Maxwell Xolani Rani, and accompanying percussion by Themba Pondi. But what strikes one most is the beautiful, poetic isiXhosa text (with limited and often unsynchronised English translations projected) and Mbothwe’s transcendent use of props as poetic tropes. In this lyrical work, rich in symbolism, shoes become telephones.

The ebullient cast is awash with superb performances across the board, with Thando Doni, Faniswa Yisa, Nandipha Mnyuka and Thumeka Mzayiya particularly heartfelt.

Mbothwe and co are certainly on a road to great things.

Lungi Pinda

Penalty Shootout is the third and latest edition of Mike van Graan’s popular, award-winning Bafana Republic one-person, political, comedy revue brand. This time it is young Lungi Pinda who performs under the direction of Mandla Mbothwe.

Projections of Zapiro’s cartoons set the scene for each skit, opening with an estate agent kugel trying to sell Greenpoint stadium after the FIFA World Cup. Others include Madonna hosting celebrity adoptions; a man faking disability giving his take on the political situation; an evangelical preacher soliciting funds from us in order to pay for the soccer event which will bring the new dawn; an over-long spy scandal skit that (somewhat tediously) strings together James Bond film titles; a song “blame apartheid”; a rich, racist white woman with a racist dog struggling to come to grips with transformation at her children’s school; and the top 10 hits as reflecting various public figures. The most satirical sketch targets the African renaissance with a lecture in Dictator 101, and the cleverest is a spoof on South African politics by parodying the most famous lines penned by Shakespeare.

As a performer Pinda is limited to variations on two voices, and his female characters come across more as television stereotypes of over the top gay queens than women. The first Bafana Republic with Lindiwe Matshikiza remains the best performed. The current show is less reactionary and shrill and therefore somewhat funnier than the second instalment.

The problem I have with the Bafana series is that the structure of each skit has become lax. The satirical voice is too muted, because what we get is not quite satire, but almost a string of political jokes imposed on several fuzzily defined South African voices. A better performance would help somewhat.