/ 18 June 1999

Multicoloured Theatre

Anton Marshall

‘Bruin ous, hey, bruin ous, hey, bruin ous, hey, the real ones …” During the opening slide show and voice-over, a short chorus tackles a central issue of ”colouredness” – well, at least Durban ”colouredness”: What exactly are ”real” coloureds? And when seeking a single coloured identity, is one really doomed to fail dismally? Several soundbytes follow, offering various perspectives on coloured identity – most attempting to unify or ascribe a commonness that is based on physical description or ability.

Lueen Conning’s A Coloured Place is inspired by her own experience. The assumptions made about her habits, lifestyle, language and history encouraged her to produce a text that would, for once, dispel stereotypes about people of colour.

The same slide show includes an Afrikaans- accented voice-over proclaiming: ”One must distinguish between citizenship of a country and what the components of a homogenous nation are. There is no doubt that the coloureds are citizens of this country. There is just as little doubt that they are not part of a homogenous entity that can be described as a nation.”

Statements like these become predictably farcical in the context of the slides presented, and one begins perhaps to feel the frustration of the ”coloured identity” theme, not to mention the frustration of the writer. The slide show begins to feel like an almost desperate stage device, designed to relentlessly drill a point home. Class is about to begin, ladies and gentlemen (no pun intended).

With more black (or is it coloured?) faces in the crowd than you can shake a Nico programme at, A Coloured Place strikes a chord in the gut of most people interested in issues of socialisation, nationalism, structural violence and cultural politics.

It is noticeable, too, that women’s voices and perspectives are prevalent in the text. Through a number of the short sketches and scenes, issues like unwanted pregnancy and family violence are given a generous platform. But so too is appearance, and the degrees of separation between coloureds who look ”European”, ”coolie” or ”African”.

But for all its power as a lesson in social reality, there are some areas in which the play suffers from trying to please by falling into lighthearted satire. I found many moments decidedly less funny than most of the crowd did, hoping the ill-placed humour wasn’t defusing the far more serious issues around race, class, gender and identity that we still live with today. Watching the play as a coloured man, it was clear that differences in perception are a critical consideration in its staging.

The significance of some comments seem a little diluted to the cosmopolitan shuffle of faces watching eagerly in the low auditorium light. Here in Cape Town, the lack of sensitivity to stark issues seems excused by the distance created in the premise of the play (shedding light on the Durbanites). Watching it here makes it ”something that’s true of them, but not of us” – inadvertently contributing to a glorious fallacy.

On the other hand one understands that this is the very point, if the aim is for ”coloureds” to speak their own histories and develop their own multi-faceted voices rather than be shoved under one convenient label that allows no room for alternative perceptions of identity.

Indeed, at one or two points, Conning makes it clear that she is speaking only for a particular coloured community – said Durbanites. Arguably, she is sticking to what she knows, rather than venturing even educated guesses about the identity constructs of the unknown, that is ”other” coloureds. After all, making assumptions about things you know very little about is the very stereotyping that the play aims to discredit.

But at the same time, a few lines get thrown in for demonstrative purposes: ”Ag man, Fransie! Whad am I gonna do with you? Sitting here kaalgat oppie witmense se stoep?” Laughter. ”No, I do not stem from a long line of toothless fishermen and grinning flower- sellers.” Laughter. Point taken, albeit at the expense of ”poor” coloureds in the Cape.

Realistic and refreshingly sincere performances from Chantal Snyman and Esmerelda Bihl endear the women to a receptive audience, so much so that some feel obliged to offer a standing ovation at the end.

Stylistically, the play in its entirety is not too much more than a collection of audio- visual bytes out of ”coloured” life, offering an admittedly rare look at real people and real lives. These get interspersed with a number of soapy, sermonising bits that should leave a congregation – I mean audience – thinking about coloured people more individualistically.

One is left with the distinct impression that this play suffers from the same thing as the perception of the ”coloured” identity construct. It’s not excellent enough to be critically acclaimed as Eurocentric high culture or African protest culture. Yet it’s not insignificant enough to be dismissed as the whining of an untalented wannabee. It’s kind of in between.

A Coloured Place is on at the Nico in Cape Town until June 26