Last weekend the line of cars snaked into Potchefstroom, instead of out. Traffic was bad. Parking was worse. Die Bult, the local kuierplek in Potchefstroom became a nightmare of swarming people.
The queue at the local Dutch Reformed Church’s bosveldburger stall twisted its way though to the Huisgenoot tent, where a popular Afrikaans pub musician was having a singalong with about half of the 100 000 people at the festival. His versions of forgotten SAUK-speeltyd songs echoed over Potchefstroom so that even the cops waiting to trap eager Aardkloppers at the outskirts of town started to pack up for the day.
It is true that Die Bult and all its free shows were sometimes just too much. But if you succeeded in escaping the hundreds of queues to either pee or eat (neither of which were free) you suddenly discovered the magic of Aardklop. It was in the quirky conservatism of a passing patron, the last-minute luck of having secured a ticket for a sold-out show and the feeling that arts are very much alive in South Africa.
By Friday most of the tickets were sold out and desperate latecomers were praying that the unknown shows they had gambled their money on would not be the disasters of the festival. Many of the gamblers struck pure gold. Some of the gems of the festival turned out to be lesser-known shows that were not touted beforehand.
Jan and Jorie was one of the darlings of Aardklop’s media. But even on Friday you could still secure a ticket for the show. Reviewers were raving about it, while most Aardkloppers were simply … raving.
The production examined the loving and sometimes strange relationship between the Afrikaans avant-garde writer of the Sixties, Jan Rabie and his great love, painter Marjorie Wallace. Affectionately known by their friends as Jan and Jorie, the two formed an imaginative pair at the forefront of arts in South Africa.
Suig, the winner of the Smeltkroes prize that honours debut productions at the festival, did not draw the crowds. Yet Gys de Villiers’s original piece, which he worked on for more than a year, won praise for its imaginative text. The former soapie actor revealed another side when he included lyrics to this production.
Before the festival the naughty Desnieteenstaande promised to reveal a funnier side of rich, bored women living off their ex-husbands in the suburbs of Johannesburg. But it also revealed diva Lizz Meiring’s bottom (not all that pleasant) and Henriëtta Gryffenberg’s cellulite.
The actresses teamed up with controversial writer Jeanne Goosen and theatre legend Sandra Prinsloo, to produce the hilarious outlook on the lives of two bitches trying to survive their suutjiespoep (old fart/hypocritical) ex-husbands, who have a few secrets of their own. It was a feminist nightmare.
Desnieteenstaande was a strange place to find a rebellion against patriarchal society, especially as another drama, 1975, promised to look at Afrikaner guilt from two women’s points of view. Jana Cilliers and Antoinette Kellermann’s portrayals of two cynical journalists were excellent, considering the confusing text they dealt with.
Playwright Saartjie Botha tried to resurrect the patriarchal and racist struggle in Afrikaans news circles before 1976, asking the million-dollar question: How come Afrikaners did not know? But her text failed to deliver the goods the audience was expecting.
In the end 1975’s experiment in confusing the audience about what is real and what is simply acting blunted its very relevant theme.
The drama was not the only show that flirted with guilt and the past. In the Eighties censorship and cover-ups were at their height, and no more relevant setting to portray this could be found than a small Karoo town. In Drie Susters, ‘n Plek three women question the role of troepies on the border, and their place in an isolated community where strong men are sick, dead or about to die in a far away land.
The usual light-hearted but entertaining shows were abundant, along with inflated prices and drunken teenagers. A ticket for My Man se Vrou se Man was even rarer than a baby in the audience of Nipple Caps and G-Strings, a firm favourite with the bored husbands female Aardkloppers had dragged along.
Though Aardklop is essentially an Afrikaans festival, the organisers have realised the value of marketing it as a multicultural event. Mandoza, for example, performed at OppiAarde alongside acts such as the Brixton Moord en Roof Orkes.
The festival may still have a long way to go as far as its racial mix is concerned, considering the demographics of the country, but its organisers had made an effort to involve the local black community and had included productions such as Sophiatown.
The dance production When the Outside Comes In and the excellent The World in a Guitar were popular at the festival as well, showing that Aardklop does draw a sophisticated audience. Latecomers who bought tickets at random were also pleasantly surprised by some good productions from the South African School of Motion Picture Medium and Live Performance.
No doubt more people will return next year to the festival, which will break even more records. But you have to ask when will Potchefstroom finally pop? And while everything returns back to normal in Potchefstroom this week artists, guesthouses and organisers are already aiming for a new record festival for next year.