‘Where is the light and shade in your voice?” That’s what my increasingly agitated voice trainer used to say during our sessions when I was being trained as a radio reporter.
Perplexed by my inability to grasp what she was saying, she would go on to explain that although she thought I had a wonderfully rich voice that was made for radio, I didn’t know how to use it.
Everything you say, she added, may be spoken in smooth, mellifluous tones, but it sounds the same. You could be telling the world about the death of Princess Di or announcing that the national team had scored a winning goal and no one would be able to tell the difference, she said, scowling. The monotony of my “tone” was death to her ears. I would just roll my eyes.
Once we both got over our exasperation I finally understood what she meant and I began to speak with meaning. I paused when she wanted me to, breathed in the right places, emphasised the intonation of certain words over others and, indeed, I began to find the colour, texture and variety in my voice that she was looking for. I made those dulcet tones work for me without putting the listener to sleep with my droning. I’ve been thinking about her words a lot lately and asking myself this question: Where is the light and shade in our country?
A dark and morose mood has settled over us as, from day to day, we seem to plod from one nightmarish crisis to another. An exchange of ugly and hateful words between politicians, the deadly stupidity of coked-up young boys in racy cars, endless chaotic scenes of fiery protests by the hungry and desolate. The madness is monotonous in its constancy. It seems to bring our collective psyche ever lower.
What to do to keep sane? Through the darkness I think we need to make an effort to find some light and put our weary and scorched heads and hearts where there is some shade. It’s not escapism, per se, but sometimes I think if we don’t actively look away from the dark side, it will drag us down with it.
In my search I’ve found a few things that give me hope about being in South Africa right now. I love Football Friday. Driving around Johannesburg and seeing the enthusiasm South Africans across the board are showing in anticipation of the World Cup makes my load feel lighter. Flags are hoisted on car windows and soccer shirts are worn proudly by young and old. Even though it’s superficial and engineered, Football Friday reflects the kind of nationhood that we aspire to, so kudos to Deputy President Kgalema Motlanthe for this uplifting initiative.
There is light for me when I see the number of South Africans putting up their hands to help with the education crisis in the country. The former deputy president, Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka, through her uMlambo Foundation, provides support and training for school principals around the country through a partnership with the University of Johannesburg. At a recent function she hosted to acknowledge and award those principals who had completed their training, the principals spoke passionately of what a difference the resources facilitated by the uMlambo Foundation had made to their schools.
A few South African musicians have collaborated to raise funds for anti-crime programmes through a campaign called “Shout”. Various personalities have lent their names and talent to this. I stand in awe of young people doing their bit to quell some of the things that ail us. As Khalil Gibran once wrote: “You give but little when you give of your possessions. It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.”
I take great pleasure in seeing my son, who is in grade one, learn how to read. It is a simple thing but it fills me with such joy to see him begin to formulate and write sentences with meaning. In the past, like many other parents, I might have taken that for granted and assumed that learning to read, write and count is a natural consequence of going through the school system. Not anymore — I throw myself into this exercise of doing homework with him and reading stories, because according to the Progress in International Reading literacy study, almost 80% of South African learners do not develop basic reading skills by the time they reach grade five.
That is not a fate I would want to befall someone I so adore. So that achievement – however minor – brings light and shade into an otherwise often rather grim existence. With that in mind, I want to offer my time to help other children read or develop an interest in books. If anyone has any ideas, call me.