THEATRE: David Le Page
DESCEND to the very lowest level of society, and=20 you are in the perfect position to thrust hard into=20 the softest part of its bloated, pallid underbelly.=20 If you are a playwright named Itumeleng Wa- Lehulere, you will not content yourself with a=20 single thrust of the weapon of words; you’ll stir=20 around for a while, and wait for the guts to spill=20 out.
And spill they do, up and Down Adderley Street, an=20 astute play at the Market Theatre in Johannesburg=20 that offers a vignetted peek into the gutter=20 society of Cape Town, posing some very hard=20 questions. The lives of street children are its=20 immediate concern, but in their voices, if we=20 listen carefully, we can hear those of a million=20 others, of people without land, vested interests,=20 or union representation, out on the fringes of=20 society.
These voices offer no eulogies to the=20 Reconstruction and Development Programme, no=20 obeisances to the “rainbow nation”. Intent on the=20 immediate need to survive, they are hard, bitter=20 and without ideals.
At times, this disenchantment is expressed, off- the-cuff, in slightly hackneyed terms. Having=20 swiped a pair of shoes from the devotees of a creed=20 particularly vulnerable to such crimes, Rooi=20 (Phumlani Runei) says: “I did my own RDP.”
But such feelings find more potent expression in=20 one particularly beautiful portrait of South=20 African cynicism. Readying themselves for thievery=20 during a political rally, Rooi and Kat (Keith wa=20 Lehulere) wear a double-sided placard. They flash=20 one message, the ANC’s “Tough on crime, tough on=20 the causes of crime” while on the Parade, and turn=20 the board around to reveal FW de Klerk when they=20 get to Greenmarket Square. The message is clear.=20 For the socially disenfranchised, these parties are=20 two sides of the same coin, effectively=20 indistinguishable.
Who are Rooi and Kat? Rooi is from Mannenberg,=20 escaping a Catholic priest who molested him. Kat is=20 from the burned squatter camp Tamboville, a refugee=20 from violence between police, witdoeke and=20 comrades. They’re teenagers, barely. Rooi is just=20 old enough to be thrilled with the novelty of=20 erections. Kat is older, harder, with a deeper=20 sense of responsibility and elder-brotherly concern=20 for Kat. But we can only guess what traumas lie=20 behind his continuing tendency to wet himself while=20 asleep.
It is such details that lend an icy plausibility to=20 Wa Lehulere’s play; that stop us from ever getting=20 too caught up in its theatrics.
In a number of incidents, Rooi and Kat play various=20 characters from their own backgrounds. Kat takes=20 his grandmother, played hilariously by Runei, to=20 collect her pension. Kat is equally hilarious as a=20 world-weary fish-seller riding an old cart,=20 casually gutting the dreams of his young companion:=20 big beautiful cars “stay in the TV”.=20
And both turn a police flogging into a masterfully=20 choreographed song that simultaneously chills and=20 amuses, acutely paralleling the combination of fear=20 and compassion that street kids arouse in polite=20 society.=20
Through it all, the humour slides away in perfect=20 inverse proportion to a growing sense of unease.
Above Kat and Rooi towers a great hierarchy of=20 persecutors. “No one protects you on the streets,=20 not even the police.” Instead they confine you in=20 cells with adults who sodomise and beat you. Or do=20 their own bit for the RDP and beat you for robbing=20 tourists, potential foreign investors. Middle-class=20 blacks tell you to go to school and not disgrace=20 your people. Paler people are as=20 disappointing: “What kind of white man are you,=20 that doesn’t have 20c?”
At the top of it all is God, who attracts no=20 respect from Kat _ “you must be a stone-hearted=20 bastard” _ nor any fear _ “I am going to rewrite my=20 life!”
Down Adderley Street runs at the Laager at the=20 Market until December 2