That the turnout was paltry did little to dent Unathi Asiya’s goal of someday introducing a solid arts programme to the youth of Colesberg’s Kuyasa Township this past Saturday afternoon. Ideally, not the most promising day because this is when the community bury their dead or honour the ancestors. The Seventh Day Adventists strictly reserve it for worship and it’s usually the only one that the regular 9 – 5 crowd have to unwind.
Nonetheless, on an overcast 8 November afternoon the Open Mic Day organised by Asiya’s very own Nathi-Nice Affairs went on inside the Kuyasa Community Hall. One after another, performers took to the stage – amongst them budding poets, musos, storytellers but most surprisingly the bulky bouncer – the Barry White of Umthombo Wolwazi – so inspired by the young children’s chutzpah that he too was stirred into absconding his post at the entrance and settled into reading off a poem he’d downloaded right there on the spot.
The performers themselves, all from the Hantam Community Education Trust’s farm school, Umthombo Wolwazi, and mostly barely standing taller than a door handle brought with them the sort of courageous conviction of people who regard the stage as a theatre of their talents and hit the stage running. Sometimes even dancing.
The Xhosa imbongi writhed emphatically, the budding popstar gently serenaded. Michael Jackson renditions blared from the PA system, emulations of Gcina Mhlophe’s storytelling had the place straining for every word. Tiny but resonant and motivational voices, there to have their say, there to have fun. The audience – made up mostly of parents – cheered, they ululated, they sprung on to their feet and winced in pleasure from their chairs.
A sudden feast of both rehearsed and impromptu creativity – if you wanted the microphone, you could have it. And kids like Omphile Smit, 10 years old, were a reminder of the unexplored – sometimes neglected – talents breathing amidst the daily struggles and disaffection in the townships as well as a Sports Arts and Culture Department that has for the better part of ten years generally been regarded as yet another write-off.
Smit recited his own poem ‘The day of an artist’ and passionately told all in sundry that ‘I love art, it warms up my heart. I want to be an artist so everyone try this … I hear everyone go chitchat and hear my brush go plit plat.’ Not yet Picasso, but on that stage, the endless possibilities of what sort of man the boy could potentially grow up to be looked very promising.
And these are exactly the sort of bountiful hopes that Asiya wishes to have the kids believing are attainable to them. As the assiduous choir conductor at Umthombo Wolwazi, she has taken the ‘miracle farm school’ choir to the national stage where they’ve repeatedly made the nation look at them and remember they were there.
A dedicated teacher, she now carries around more ambitious hopes: to establish an on-going after-school arts programme open to all of Colesberg’s children. To provide not just something to keep them busy, but that also allows them to reimagine what else could be out there for them. Of course they can become lawyers and accountants, but what’s stopping them from being geniuses of the spoken word or the next Brenda Fassie if they have someone who steers them down the often ignored path of the arts?
Not too long ago, the only idols that a child from the Karoo may have looked to were the ones they saw on MTV. But people like Asiya afford a liberating message: with enough commitment you too are capable of making a name for yourself among the very best. And, if you are skeptical, perhaps you could take a closer look at the story of Mnqweno Ngqandu….
The unlikely poet
It’s the hard-luck stories like his that come closest to succinctly laying bare the resilient grind of the cultural and creative rejuvenation that russles from within modest homes in the townships of Kuyasa. It’s a Wednesday, and the final-year university student is up late at night inside the kitchen of his family’s four-roomed home.
It’s almost midnight and his two uncles, Pon and Gastra, have finally turned off the TV. The matriarch, Sophie, is taking in Zs in the one bedroom. Her two foster children are also fast sleep in the room which they share with Mnqweno. It’s been another long day, and, for the young poet, only just beginning.
In that stillness of the night, Mnqweno burns the midnight oil, plucking words from his mind and carefully arranging them in his exercise book as he scribbles together his latest piece. Another harrowing Xhosa creation on everything from loss or mourning but that sees beyond the sadness and agony and instead takes the listener to a place of finding peace and comfort in the darkness.
Raw, thoughtful and sometimes painful pieces almost always told with an affectionate smile even though they are sometimes an ode to a dearly departed grandfather or a nostalgic glancing back to something lost forever. The casual delivery is that of a man who’s experienced way too much joy but his real life was anything but.
A rather familiar kasi story, in fact. Mom dies when the boy hardly knows her, so he is raised by grandma. Despite the sometimes harsh economic situation, the boy actually walks an honourable path. He goes to church, gets good grades at school and never forgets to respectfully greet the neighbours. The peer pressure is never too far off, nor is the soccer. But the language classes at Umso High School are particularly exciting and Mnqweno is not shy to be the first to put his hand up and deliver an unprepared speech.
But it is at Kovsies, University of the Free State, where his love for Xhosa poetry truly flourishes. He joins a cultural body, immerses himself in his craft, and before you know it he’s randomly reciting his words in front of fellow students. The videos are uploaded on TikTok and soon enough the boy from Kuyasa has a growing audience. And, an audience in the world of influencers and ‘likes’ soon translates into bookings, performances at pretty high-end functions and suddenly the dream is soon beginning to shape into a reality.
Next year Mnqweno is due to graduate in Education. But, already drawing small sums as an imbongi, he has discovered the same thing that Asiya is trying to impart on her young charges: if you look and work hard enough, you may find more than one road opened up to you. With her open-mic event, and the enthusiasm of the young ones, Asiya has set them well down on that path. Now, one wonders, whether the community will come along for the ride next time. (Below: a link to one of Mnqweno’s poems).
https://www.facebook.com/reel/2032622000914916/?mibextid=rS40aB7S9Ucbxw6v
Featured image: The young performers at the recent Open Mic Day in Colesberg take a brief refreshment break. Image: eParkeni.