John Matshikiza
WITH THE LID OFF
‘You’re going to where this time?!” said the voice on the other end of the phone. I thought she was interested in the controversial nature of my destination, but in fact she merely wanted to register her astonishment that I was getting into another aircraft and flying to yet another corner of the globe.
“You’re lucky you’re not one of those women with silicone implants,” she continued, “otherwise your chest would have been splattered all over the roof of some aeroplane by now.”
“What do you mean?” I said, when I could get a word in edgeways.
“Those silicone implants just explode if you fly too often,” she replied. “It’s something to do with the change of pressure.”
It was an ominous comment. The Rio carnival was about to begin, and the world’s press, unable to keep its nose out of other people’s business, as usual, was running titillating stories about the changing profile of the average Brazilian carnival queen, enhanced by those very same silicone implants. Perhaps that’s why she had silicone implants on her mind. Or perhaps she was just concerned about my health, and was using a startling analogy to bring me to my senses. “Stop riding around all those foreign skies,” was the subtext. “Stay home for a bit, and come to grips with what’s happening in your native land.”
I was off on a plane, nevertheless. This time the destination was Salzburg, in Austria.
Now, let me be very clear. I was not, as everyone immediately assumed, off on an intrepid mission to get to grips with Jrg Haider and his pals of the New European far right. I was going to attend an international seminar on the English playwright William Shakespeare, a fellow who hasn’t produced a new work in nearly 400 years, yet still seems to exercise a powerful hold on the minds of theatregoers across the world – everywhere except in South Africa, that is.
The seminar was entitled Shakespeare around the Globe. The participants, who had been prepared to pay a hefty $5E000 each (excluding air fare) for the privilege of attending, hailed from such diverse lands as Egypt, Croatia, Pakistan, India, Kenya, Brazil, India, Germany, Senegal, Greece, Ghana and the United States – not to mention South Africa.
The question we had all come to debate was: why Shakespeare? Is Shakespeare the only playwright who can truly be considered part of a global culture because his plays are filled with universal values? Or is he merely a commodity that is universally consumed, like Coca- Cola, because it is constantly rammed down our throats as part of an elaborate imperialist plot that we are unable to escape – despite having long kicked the dust of those oppressive and compulsory high school set works off our feet, and become autonomous players on the world stage in our own right?
Shakespeare is more frequently performed than any other playwright, living or dead, on this planet. His plays, which range from airy comedies about the folly of love to dark explorations of political intrigue, human greed and frailty, racism, anti- Semitism, and the powerless raging of monarchs, peasants and other kinds of mortals against the inevitable approach of life’s ending, have been adapted and translated into almost as many languages as there are on the globe.
Shakespeare was, indeed, at one time, part of the armoury of British imperialism. His plays were appropriated by the agents of British Empire in the name of British superiority – forgetting to mention that Shakespeare, in his day, had no notion that his writings would be used for these purposes.
But how does this explain the dominance of Shakespeare in the post-imperial world? Why are there so many interpretations of the Bard on the main stages of Tokyo, Seoul, Moscow, Tel Aviv and Belgrade, to name but a few? How is it that it was Shakespeare, rather than the exiled and eloquent Eugene Ionesco, a subversive hero in the days of totalitarian excess, who dominated the cultural revival of Romania after the fall of Nicolae Ceaucescu?
Many scholars say that it is the beauty of Shakespeare’s language that makes him pre- eminent. But the majority of Shakespearean performances these days happen in languages other than English.
So why Shakespeare?
It could be because no other writer has ever dared to write in so many different styles and cover so much territory, offering endless avenues of exploration, while still maintaining his own distinctive voice.
But it could also be because Shakespeare was the first, and is still the most successful, employer of the device of alienation. We recognise ourselves in the world of Shakespeare, but we can also respond to the madness of the world we live in through the isolation of those who do not or cannot conform to the norm, or are deliberately excluded from what is considered to be the norm – Othello, Viola, Macbeth, and countless others.
We live in an alienated and ever-changing world. In a strange way, the ancient Shakespeare allows for endless reinterpretations of the modern world and our part in it. Shakespeare can be used to refer equally to the narrow universe of Haider and the African exuberance of the Rio carnival, and is constantly employed as a metaphor for both these parts of life.
Viva, I say, to air travel, in spite of the danger of exploding silicone implants. Viva to this opportunity to travel through time, and explore the endless wonders of the world. And viva, finally, to the wild and extravagant universe of William Shakespeare. It belongs to us all.