/ 17 November 2006

Reason to dance

I was born in 1971 in Kwa Mashu, Durban. My parents, who are now dead, used to work, but my mother couldn’t after she gave birth to me — she became sick. She had 10 kids, I’m the only daughter. I looked up to her even though she didn’t work. She looked after us, she never had money — as a strong woman she was always there. She was my role model and from her I learnt that you don’t need dollars to be a good parent.

When I lost her in 1999, I could say I fell apart. But I had to continue with my life and I have felt that she is always around me. I feel strong whenever I think about her.

My father was a printer. He was always there too — constantly there and working — but not with feeling, as a father figure should be. He drank too much; he smoked ganja. He never had time to take care of his family. He could sit down with the brothers and talk about issues, but as the only girl I was always on the sidelines. My mother had to take control of me. Now I realise you need both parents, to chat about stuff.

He passed away two years ago. At the end of the day it doesn’t matter what your father or your brother might have done — when the person passes away it hurts. You feel you should have sorted issues out. There are things that you keep postponing in life, saying it is not a good time.

I wanted to sit down with him at some point, to tell him ‘you must look at what you have done”, so that younger brothers of mine wouldn’t repeat what he had done. I wanted to tell him to focus more on his family. When he passed away it sort of seemed like I knew it was going to come. He was working at the same place for years and then he retired at 65. He got gangrene in his leg. He went to the hospital and got it amputated. After he had worked for 27 years he had to sit down — he got his [retirement] package and he started talking about starting his own business. But when he lost his leg, I could see him vanishing slowly every day.

After working in Cape Town for 10 years, I moved back to Durban and started working with people who didn’t have a chance to continue with their studies or go to university. People who, at the end of the day, now don’t have to go and sweep the streets. The motivation comes from my home life. There were times that we went to bed without food. I didn’t want these people to land up in that situation. That’s how my company, Phenduka, started. (Phenduka means turn around and finish what you have started.)

When I look around — even at people I’m working with now — they get whatever can to make other people see them as bigger than they are. Basically, they would spend all their money on clothes, cellphones, expensive shoes. Not on fixing a house or buying a duvet or supporting the family or saving money so that they can continue with their studies. I say, ‘Guys most of you don’t have Standard 10. I’ve only got Standard nine, but who knows? If I had finished my matric or gone to university I may have done everything I wanted to do in another way.”

The new piece we are doing with Flatfoot Dance Company for Woman’s Day is called Side by Side. Initially we wanted to speak about women’s spirituality. But it has evolved and now we speak about the softness of women when all that surrounds them is harsh. The piece has no violence at all. The women are not trying to prove anything, but they are there as creators, as nurturers. People who look after other people. People who share.

I see at this moment in time that there is no ego. Women just do their thing whenever they are given tasks.

Side by Side shows at the Durban Playhouse from August 10 to 12 Tel: (031) 369 9555. Catch Phenduka at the Jomba! festival at the University of KwaZulu-Natal from August 15 to 27. Tel: (031) 260 2506. Ndaba is also on the Programme of the New Dance festival at the Wits Theatre, Braamfontein, from August 9 to 19. Tel: 482 4140. Ndaba spoke to Matthew Krouse