Romeo and Juliet was one of our set works in 1992. It was our initiation into the language of thou, thee and thy. We spent two weeks during the winter holidays with our zealous young teacher, who, like most of us, was sacrificing his time to get us to understand the language of Shakespeare. He drummed into us the concepts of irony, pun, paradox, symbolism and metaphor. And he guided us through the story to see them in action.
The book we used was A4 size, with the Shakespearian language on one side, and translations into the modern, simple language on the other. We were encouraged to read the Shakespearian side. It was a quest to understand the meaning, to understand the language, to pass. We referred to past exam papers, to see what questions could come up in the exam. Most of us were teenagers, so we could identify with the love story, but we still didn’t understand how this 16th-century English world was of relevance to our lives.
This particular teacher, though, somehow made things interesting. He encouraged us to interact with him; and talk, talk, talk. So we continued going to school during the holidays, for about two hours every day. After that we would usually go to the local library to continue studying on our own.
Back in class, Mr Likhethe asked us how much we knew about plays. About the theatre. We did not know much, except for the sketches that were sometimes performed in the school halls. At this time Mbongeni Ngema’s hit musical, Sarafina, was on at the Market Theatre in Jo’burg. Mr Likhethe asked us if we would like to see it. Of course we agreed. He had already borrowed money and bought about 50 tickets for that Thursday’s show. We had to buy the tickets from him for R10, and we also needed about R10 for travelling costs.
‘I need money to go and see Sarafina in Johannesburg. We are going on Thursday. The show starts at 8pm.”
‘And how are you going to get back?”
‘I am not sure, maybe they will deliver us house to house.”
‘And who is this Likhethe? Is he one of your teachers at Esokwazi?”
‘He did his practicals here, last year, but now he teaches in Orange Farm, full time. He is just helping us out with Romeo and Juliet for now.”
‘How can he tell us about a trip on Monday, when you leave on Thursday? Where does he think we are going to raise the money from?”
After I shed some tears my mom promised to give me the money. I even managed to twist her arm and get new jeans as well.
On Thursday, about 5pm, we met at the four-roomed Likhethe family home in Zone 14, Sebokeng.
Zone 14 was calmer than ours, Zone 7. In this area there were some of the first big houses that were called ‘loan” houses, meaning they were bought with mortgage bonds; mostly by teachers, nurses and other professionals. Zone 14 was also the first in Sebokeng to get a Kentucky Fried Chicken outlet. However, at that time, Zone 14 was also becoming dangerous, because of the nearby Sebokeng hostel, where tribal and political fights were erupting.
When everyone had arrived, we said the Lord’s Prayer, and at about 6pm, we left for Johannesburg. Although Sebokeng is only about 40km south of Jo’burg, we did not go there often.
As we arrived in Newtown the show was about to start. The play was captivating. The actors were youngsters just like us, and we thought, if they can do it why can’t we? Even the way they sang Our Father at this school was so different and energising. We wondered silently why we couldn’t rather study Sarafina instead of Romeo and Juliet.
The teacher in the play, Mistress Mary Masombuka, was funky, and everything looked so real. The costumes were simple school uniforms, but there was something about the singing and the dancing; the performance was spine-chilling. When they sang Safa saphela isizwe esimnyama, the lyrics touched our young hearts in a profound way.
As we left Jo’burg, the streets were being swept. We were not looking forward to returning home. There was a curfew in Sebokeng, enforced by the patrol groups as a self-defence measure. This was a response to the rampant killings and attacks that were happening around this time. In Zone 7, where I came from, and where our school was, a few houses had been burnt down. The houses being attacked were mainly those of people suspected of being medlwembe, sell-outs, and aligned with the wrong party. Talk of a Third Force encouraging black-on-black violence was rife in the media.
In March of that year I had lost an uncle, from Sharpeville, who was killed on his way to work. The previous year, one night in Zone 7, we were awoken by sounds of AK-47 shots. These gunshots were directed at people attending a night vigil of the late Chris Nangalembe, a few blocks from our house. From then on, there were no more night vigils. All mourning formalities were conducted in the day. Unbeknown to us, the Boipatong massacre was looming just ahead of us, on June 17. Another uncle, who stayed on a farm near Sasolburg, constantly urged my father to leave Sebokeng.
Travelling in this area at around midnight, in a bus with 50 youths, was obviously a huge risk.
On the night of the performance, we entered Zone 14 safely, without being stopped at the barricades, and all went to the Mphatlalatsane hall. Here we stayed, holding a ‘vigil”, waiting for dawn. Some had brought board games and playing cards. We played and chatted the night away. As dawn broke we took taxis, and went our separate ways: never to forget Sarafina.
Later a lot of drama and traditional dance groups erupted, popularly known as Sarafina groups.
The next time I heard Molatwane Likhethe he was eloquently reading the news on Lesedi FM. A few years later I heard he was spokesperson for the Education Ministry.
Having completed matric in Sebokeng, I came to study in Johannesburg. I am now slowly becoming a resident of Jo’burg. Working in the big city, and living in Parktown, on the edge of Hillbrow; in close proximity to both the Civic and Market theatres. It has been a long time since I saw a Hippo, one of the features of the violent Sebokeng of the past. Here, however, we have become used to visible and audible policing, with sirens heard at regular intervals, and fast, chasing Metro police cars accompanying them. I’ve grown accustomed to the buzz of Jozi.
I recently called Likhethe — he was in a meeting. Later when we spoke he told me: ‘This week I am in Cape Town. I am back in Pretoria next week.” With his busy schedule, I wonder if he can still afford to make time for the theatre?
The details
Sarafina runs at the Market Theatre from October 18. Book at Computicket: Tel (011) 832 1641