(re-)view: feeling and ugly by danai mupotsa

The other day, a friend posted a picture of her copy of feeling and ugly on Instagram, with the caption “Companion”. I thought it was uncanny that hours earlier, I had thought about posting a picture of my copy with the exact same caption.

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feeling and ugly is the first poetry book I have ever owned. I keep it by my bed, just in case. I don’t know what the emergency will be but I want to be prepared.

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Whilst I think about what this collection means to me, there’s an image in my head of a white blonde child clutching a teddy bear. The invisible parent in the scene lets the child take the teddy bear everywhere. Without it, the child feels destabilized; cries violently. It feels like an image I’ve seen in a movie or something.

I do not think of or see myself as this child. I don’t remember having such a relation to any of my toys when I was young. But I can relate to the image, because finally, I have something that I can hold (onto) when being in the world makes me want to cry. A soft anchor. A companion.

It’s disappointingly easy for me to conjure up an image of a vulnerable white child.  I’ve consumed so much media where white people of every age get to be emotionally complex. I grew up without getting to see myself reflected like this, despite the ocean of feelings within me. It was as if we couldn’t be spared this luxury, despite the fact that what black girls feel and think and know could flood a small universe.

In this light, feeling and ugly reveals a depth of emotion that is not usually afforded to us. It gently pushes me towards me but also helps me articulate a “we”. Reading it, I can recognize what is shared without needing it to look the same in each of us.

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Danai writes about love in its different forms: sees it through its difficulty. Like her,

I want to dream of love that is tempestuous

– (p. 61)

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Danai also writes about sex. About pleasure and shamelessness. About wanting to climb people. This is very important political work.

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There are poems in this collection which are difficult to read, uncomfortable in that they know too much. They are not judging you, but they’ve seen what you have spent your life hiding (from). Not only have they seen it, but they have seen just how much of it there is. To be so exposed in your shame feels like each of your pores is a blister.

Maybe if you just sit with the poems and with the shame – focus less on concealing – you can catch your breath.

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breathing

together like this

fills me to pieces

– (p. 56)

 

 

 

feeling and ugly is published by impepho press and available at African Flavour Books.

I Have Life – Alison’s Journey: a review of Maralin Vanrenen’s stage adaptation

A stage adaptation of “I Have Life – Alison’s Journey” opened at Victoria Theatre on Thursday, 2 July and was received with a standing ovation.

The theatre piece is based on the well-known story of Alison Botha; a woman who was brutally raped and left for dead by two attackers in Port Elizabeth. Following Botha’s attack, she published a best-selling book titled “I Have Life” (as told to Marianne Thamm).

Theatre Excellence

Described by the audience as “real” and “uplifting”, I Have Life deserves the highest praise. Suanne Braun’s portrayal of Alison Botha is outstanding. So convincing is Braun’s acting, that after the show, several inspired audience members flocked to her, praising her and addressing her as ‘Alison’.

The stage adaptation is crisp – evocative and horrifying in the right places, but also, moving. Despite the fact that I Have Life deals with the painful subject of rape, there was a good dose of humour injected into the piece. Director Maralin Vanrenen’s choice to add light-hearted moments reflects her desire to portray Alison’s truth, which includes Alison’s sense of humour.

Skilful scripting

Vanrenen’s seamless directing ensures that the audience is hooked from the start. It should not be overlooked that Vanrenen is able to bring to life a play, using a narrative mostly comprised of Alison Botha’s thoughts as a basis. Achieving this is a testament to Vanrenen’s creativity and dedication to detail.

Including excerpts from Alison Botha’s motivational speeches in the script,I Have Life tackles common myths about rape and rape victims. The play sensitively highlights various aspects of the trauma of sexual violence, such as depression, loss of self-confidence and anger. In this way, the play is a vehicle for Alison Botha’s story to reach victims of all types of sexual violence: encouraging them to take charge of their futures.

Audience discussion

The opening show was followed by an audience discussion, curated by a City Press journalist. In the discussion, members of the audience expressed how profound they found the narrative. One audience member, a social worker with 2 decades of experience, said that the play needs to be shown in different communities around South Africa.

Several people agreed that the play was a necessary one, which aptly highlights the plight of women in society. Maralin Vanrenen says, the intention of the play was to show how it “is the responsibility of us all to change the state of society” when it comes to the issue of violence against women.

Review: Endings and Beginnings: A Story of Healing – Redi Tlhabi

Jacana Media

Redi Tlhabi’s Endings and Beginnings: A Story of Healing is an extraordinary account of the author’s life, focusing on her friendship with Mabegzo, the most notorious thug in Orlando East, Soweto. In the first part of her narrative, Tlhabi takes the reader on a fascinating trip down memory lane and introduces us to the charming Mabegzo. She lets the reader in on his acts of kindness, his quirks and his deepest emotional wounds. As the pair grows closer, we witness Redi’s struggle to reconcile Mabegzo’s two identities, that of the confidante and crook.

In the second part of the story, we follow Tlhabi back to Soweto, more than a decade after Mabegzo’s death to find answers to the questions that still haunt her. For Tlhabi, the process of uncovering who Mabegzo is a passage with no shortage of revelations. On her path to gaining closure, Tlhabi uncovers some unbearably ugly truths but perseveres to share the gift of healing with others.

As a seasoned journalist, working with words is the crux of Tlhabi’s profession, and from her writing it is clear that she is a natural. Her work is elegant and delivered with sincerity. Owing to Tlhabi’s nuanced treatment of Mabegzo’s life story – the captivating juxtaposition of the friend and the criminal – Endings and Beginnings speaks volumes about the complexity of being human. It is a more-than-worthy read, which will draw you in and appeal to the very heart of you.

[Published July 2013 for WeekendPost]