sunday blues

Greetings. It is an extremely hot Sunday afternoon and I have a desire to speak, but not verbally. Do you ever get those days when you just don't feel like talking? Well, I do. Easier to type than speak, so here goes.

As usual, the weekend has flown by and it is back to the job tomorrow, with the regular stresses of the rat race. This weekend was interesting ... my father came to visit, with my stepmother, so I was being host, good son and intellectual, all at the same time. Plus, I did something I haven't done before, but hope it will be more regular in times to come - i had two gigs on one day.

The first was an MC and poetry thing at a San Heritage Festival out near the Cradle of Mankind. Long dusty road, hot sun and I ended up doing two links and one poem to a handful of people. When I was leaving, more people were arriving so I am assuming things picked up after I left. It was a fascinating lesson in race mechanics in South Africa. Took Daddy along and we spent the whole time trying to make sense of the fact that it is white South Africans (well, at least in this space) who seem to dominate the attempts to draw attention to African culture. Too much going on in my head to be able to break it down, but I was surrounded by a potpourri of dye&dye shirts, drumming, etc that seemed to be a mixture of Shamanic (Native American) symbolism and African (can't really place it into one culture, considering how many African cultures exist) desire.

Black Africans were in short supply and were primarily there to do some performance or another or, as was the case with one brother I met, to try and score white chicks. The man had the whole thing going with a Swazi clothe over his shoulder, the walking stick, some beads and skins around his head.... for a minute, I thought he might be a sangoma but when chatting, I discovered he has three kids in Lesotho, is a Zulu and was eyeing the ladies, with relative success.

Don't get the wrond idea .... I commend the organisers for what they are attempting to do, which is to draw attention to the plight of the San people, who continue to be treated with disdain in this part of the world, which does not reflect their position of being the closest to the original man/woman. In some ways, their circumstance seems to mirror that of Native Americans. The desire of the organisers to ensure that these people do not continue to be mariginalised in their home is absolutely necessary ... it just seemed like one was walking into a 'club' where you don't know anyone and are not sure how to act or interact .... and, a club that does not reflect the full spectrum of SA society. Question is: where are black South Africans? Are they doing the same but separately, or are they just not doing anything?

Anyway, went to the opposite extreme from there and performed at a corporate awards ceremony in the evening. Theme was: African, but there were suuits everywhere. Drummers at the entrance who absolutely rocked but were considered more background music as you walked up the red carpet, than the beauty and creativity they expressed. Despite the seemingly conventional setup that one can expect from corporate events, it reminded me of why I love going out and sharing my work. Professionally run, perfect sound, captive audience, wonderful energy and a desire to open themselves up to new things. I was home by 20h00 revitalised and boistered.

It is my theory that the only way poets will be treated with professionalism and courtesy is if we take ourselves seriously and act like professionals. The performance element has put us in the entertainment arena, to a certain extent, and, in competing for work with singers, dancers, actors, etc, we need to change our approach to the way we work. We need to delve more into the business of being artists. The treatment I received at the corporate event re-emphasised this for me.

That's it for me today. Will be posting some information on happenings in the poetry and arts scene, primarily around Joburg, during the week so come back. Going to gradually shift my e-newsletter, Playing With Words, into this realm.

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