Saturday 22 March 2014

The Queue

The thick layer of yesteryear’s glossy green oil-based paint appeared like a despondent attempt to make the gloomy hall that I walked into, look better. As with too much make-up on an aged skin, the paint on the walls did not work. It merely accentuated the age and worn-down appearance of the building and echoed the aura of despair that I saw outside in the neighbourhood.

The presence of seemingly disinterested security guards that were hanging around made me realize that the glaring notice outside in the parking lot – ‘High crime spot. Lock your vehicle!’ – should perhaps be taken seriously. The uneasiness inside me became stronger. I did not want to be here, but I had no choice.

Already I could sense the stale air of too many bodies in the unventilated room where I was waiting in a long queue to find out where I must go to. This, together with the hall’s ineffective lighting, amplified the apprehension inside me – this is going to be an unpleasant experience. At the same time I tried to convince myself that the itching that I felt on my lower legs was only my imagination.

Somewhere a baby cried.

The many queues consisted of people sitting on rows of chairs. When it was the person in the front’s turn to go to the counter, the rest would each move one chair forward. Very few really stood up while doing so. Most moved in a hide-behind-the-bush manner, only slightly lifting the lower part of their bodies without raising the rest. With their eyes staring at some imaginary object in the distance, their feet would shuffle sideways until they placed themselves down onto the next chair.

Not a word was said. The blond model shared space in the row with the overweight mother who was discreetly trying to breastfeed her crying baby. Further down an elderly man was completing a crossword puzzle. Every now and then his pencil would drop to the floor. Was he falling asleep? The teenager was chewing gum.

The wear-and-tear on the vinyl floor tiles beneath their feet and the dirty black areas on the wall where too many bodies have leaned against in the past, were proof of a multitude of people that had been here before, all of them hoping to be helped as quickly as possible, only to find that nobody gets precedence here – the shuffling rows determine the pecking order.

The robot-like staff behind the counters processed one client after the other as the rows spewed them out. No emotion, only automated response….and a hint of impatience now and then.

Walking out of the room was like being set free. The fresh air towards the exit raised my spirit. The blue sky that I started to see brought new life into me. And the makeshift handwritten notice on my way out gave me hope: “Department of Home Affairs soon moving to a new venue.”     

Friday 14 March 2014

Oom Vên se Liggies

Bultfontein is waarskynlik die laaste Vrystaatse dorp wat elektrisiteit in die sestigerjare gekry het.

Dit was altyd met groot opgewondenheid wanneer ek saam met Pa en Ma by die familie in Brandfort gaan kuier het. Brandfort het elektrisiteit gehad en die nefies elektriese Scalectrix renmotortjies waarmee ons die ure omgespeel het.

Daar was weemoed in my hart wanneer ons die renmotortjies aan die einde van die kuier weggepak het. Ek het geweet dat ek nooit die voorreg sal hê om ‘n Scalectrix-stel te besit nie, want Bultfontein het nie elektrisiteit gehad nie.

Eintlik het dit nie gegaan oor Bultfontein wat nie elektrisiteit gehad het nie. In werklikheid was die probleem dat Bultfontein nie liggies gehad het nie. Ek onthou hoedat ek daaraan gewoond was om by die gelerige lig van ‘n paraffienlamp in my kamer huiswerk te doen. Ma het ook ‘n Alladin-lamp gehad. Hierdie wonderwerk van ‘n lamp wat ‘n suiwer wit lig gegee het, was hoofsaaklik in die eetkamer gebruik, en in die sitkamer wanneer ons kuiermense gehad het. Ander mense het selfs sulke lampe gehad wat opgepomp moes word om dan met ‘n agtergrondgesuis lig te verskaf. Maar, dit was nie liggies – elektriese liggies – nie.

En tog hét Bultfontein liggies gehad – Oom Vên se liggies.

Oom Vên van Niekerk was ‘n elektrisiën. Ek kon nooit verstaan wat ‘n elektrisiën op Bultfontein gemaak het nie, want daar was dan nie elektrisiteit nie. Sy besigheid se naambord “Van’s Electrical” het uitgestaan op ‘n dorp waar selfs die Joodse winkeliers hul besigheid “Horwitz en Levitt Algemene Handelaars” genoem het, waar dieselfde Joodse handelaars keer op keer die biddag vir reën in die NG Kerk bygewoon het en waar Engels slegs in Mnr Wright se Engelse klas by die skool gehoor en probeer praat is.

Oom Vên se werkswinkel het meer na ‘n motorwerktuigkundige s’n gelyk as díe van ‘n elektrisiën. Motoronderdele het gesaai gelê en in die een hoek was genoeg meganiese rommel om dit na die begin van ‘n skrootwerf te laat lyk.

Hoewel Oom Vên Afrikaanssprekend was, het dit nie altyd so geklink nie. ‘n Mens kon dikwels nie mooi hoor wat hy sê nie en meesal kon mens nie verstaan wat hy met sy skrillerige stem teen ‘n haastige tempo probeer verduidelik het nie.

Oom Vên was altyd haastig. Die heen-en-weer bewegings van hierdie man met sy skraal postuur in sy kenmerkende Omo-wit oorpak, het my altyd laat dink aan die rysmiere wat ek met belangstelling kon dophou. Soos hulle was Oom Vên ook altyd besig. Soos hulle het Oom Vên ook hard gewerk. Anders as hulle het Oom Vên minder struktuur en veral logika gehad in hoe hy dinge gedoen het.

‘n Outydse effens-te-groot gholf-keps wat so effens skeef na agter op sy kop gesit het, het hom laat lyk soos ‘n destydse Amerikaanse bofbalspeler. (Die Amerikaanse  gansters in die swart en wit rolprente wat ons op Saterdagaande in Bultfontein se stadsaal gesien het, het ook sulke pette gedra. Hulle het ook masjiengewere gedra. Oom Vên, gelukkig, nie.) Sy tenger lyf het egter beklemtoon dat hy beslis nie ‘n bofbalspeler (of ‘n ganster) was nie.

Die grootmense het grootoog gemaak wanneer hulle oor hom gepraat het en gesê dat dat hy te slim was vir ons gewone mense om te verstaan. Eksentriek was ‘n woord wat ons toe nog nie geken het nie.

Om redes wat niemand ooit geweet het nie, het Oom Vên besluit om elektriese straatligte in Bultfontein te installeer. Uiteraard kon hy nie die hele dorp se strate elektrifiseer nie. Hy het dus besluit om een straat van ligte te voorsien – Theunissenstraat, die straat waarin ons gewoon het.

Oom Vên moes seker soos Noag van ouds gevoel het toe hy die Ark gebou en mense allerhande vrae gevra het. “Vên, hoekom lê jy straatligte aan?” sou iemand wou weet. Geen antwoord nie. “Waar gaan die elektrisieit vandaan kom, Vên?” sou ‘n waarskynlike vraag gewees het. “Hoekom Theunissenstraat van alle strate? Hoekom nie eerder die hoofstraat nie? Dit is immers Bultfontein se enigste teerstraat.” Ek dink nie Oom Vên het self geweet nie.

En soos mense gewoond geraak het aan Noag wat dag na dag die Ark gebou het, so het ons gewoond geraak aan Oom Vên wat dag na dag in Theunissenstraat gate gegrawe, pale geplant en kabels gespan het.

So het dit dan gebeur dat Bultfontein een straat met elektriese straatligte gekry het. Saans, klokslag as die skemer daal en die aand steurend stil raak, het Oom Vên se Lister dieselenjin vanaf sy perseel agter die poskantoor begin poef-poef en het die kragopwekker wat daaraan gekoppel was, dit werklik reggekry om selfs die gloeilamp op die verste punt van die lang straat ten minste ‘n sinvolle gloed te gee.

Die ligte was nou nie juis van so ‘n aard dat ons die gordyne moes toetrek om die slaapkamer teen slapenstyd donker te maak nie. Ook kan ek nie dink dat die passasiers op SAL se sporadiese vlugte vanaf Kaapstad na Johannesburg hul kaptein oor die interkom sou hoor sê het: “…en aan die linkerkant sal u Bultfontein se ligte in die verte sien…” Feit bly egter staan, Bultfontein het straatligte gehad – Oom Vên se ligte.

En skielik het dorpe se straatligte ‘n belangrike samebindende tydverdryf, selfs ‘n nostalgie, in Pa, Ma en my lewe geword wanneer ons met die rooi Ford F100 bakkie êrens heen gereis het. Op ‘n Sondagaand het ons altyd totsiens gesê vir Kroonstad se liggies wanneer ons die lang bult buite die dorp uitgebeur het na ‘n naweek se kuier by Oom Isak en Tant Martie in Koppies.

Op ‘n Vrydagaand op pad na Oupa en Ouma in Bethlehem was dit groot opgewondenheid om te kyk wie eerste die liggies sien wanneer daardie laaste bult oorgesteek word en die dorp in ‘n panorama onder ‘n mens ontvou. 

Selfs Oom Kasper en Tannie Sannie le Roux se paar kragopwekkerliggies op hul netjiese plaaswerf het ‘n betekenis gekry wanneer ons in die aand by hulle gaan kuier het. Dit was aan die einde van ‘n lang, donker en beklemmende bloekomboomlaningrit – so asof dit wou sê: “Kom hier. Hier by ons is lig en vrede.”

Die stad Welkom se liggies, daarteenoor, was nie juis opwindend nie. Die wêreld was te plat om skielik liggies voor jou te sien. Die plek se ligskynsel het maar net helderder geword namate ‘n mens nader gery het.

En wanneer ons laat in die aand van Oom Boet en Tannie Sarie Venter se plaas, Stillerus, op die Wesselsbronpad teruggery het huis toe, dan het ek gewag om Oom Vên se ry liggies in Theunissenstraat vanuit die donkerte waarin ons gery het, te sien. Vir my was dit die kompas wat gewys het waarheen ons op pad was en waarheen ons moes gaan om ons bestemming te bereik – die verligte landingstrook na ‘n huis en tuiste waar daar rus was, stille rus.

Toe Bultfontein later jare Eskom-krag (soos die grootmense gese het) gekry het, was dit, snaaks genoeg, nie ‘n vreeslike gebeurtenis nie. Belangrik? Ja. Aardskuddend? Nee.

Miskien het dit gekom op ‘n tyd toe mense begin agterkom het dat die wêreld ‘n groter plek is as die Bultfontein-eiland waarop hulle hul al die jare bevind het. Miskien is dit gesien as deel van groei wat maar saamgeval het met ‘n nuwe gier om inkopies by Checkers in Welkom en Ackermans in Bloemfontein te doen en wat bygedra het tot die feit dat Horwitz en Levitt Algemene Handelaars op Bultfontein uiteindelik hul deure moes sluit. Miskien was dit die mikro-begin van ‘n nuwe samelewing wat begin glo het dat die wêreld hulle iets skuld en dat elektrisiteit maar net nog iets is wat hulle toekom. Miskien was dit wél ‘n groot gebeurtenis, maar dat dit oor die jare kleiner in gestalte geword het soos so baie ander dinge ook maar oor tyd in die verskiet vervaag het.

Ek het toe nooit ‘n Scalectrix-stel besit nie. Ek het ander belangstellings en veral nuwe werklikhede gehad teen die tyd toe Bultfontein elektrisiteit gekry het. Van hierdie werklikhede het te doen gehad met ‘n kind wat besig was om groot te word – ‘n kind wat gesoek het na nuwe kompasse om die rigting aan te dui waarheen hy as jong man moes gaan.

Die gemeenskap het Oom Vên nie altyd verstaan nie. Tog het hy ‘n onvermydelike rol in ons lewens gespeel deur op sy manier vir ons liggies te gee om ons donker straat te verlig en daardeur ‘n veilige heenkome sigbaar te maak.

En as ek terugkyk oor my lewe, dan verstaan ek dit ook nie, maar sien ek talle Oom Vêns wat in tye toe ek dit nodig gehad het, straatligte in my donker wêreld op die regte tyd aangeskakel het sodat ek kon sien waarheen om te gaan.

Butfontein is waarskynlik die laaste Vrystaatse dorp wat elektrisiteit in die sestigerjare gekry het. Dit was egter die enigste dorp wat Oom Vên-liggies gehad het waar Oom Vên toe, en ander mense in die jare daarna soos hy, die pad vir ‘n soekende kind in hierdie wêreld aangewys het op tye in sy lewe toe hy dit die meeste nodig gehad het…..en steeds nodig het.

Dankie, Oom Vên...

Saturday 8 March 2014

Teddy Davies - Theatre director who changes lives

(Written in February 2012)

“Am I mad to suggest this?” The hesitant look in Teddy’s eyes and the manner in which he somewhat withdraws, reveal that he knows that he is now asking for the impossible. Yet, the fact that there is profound merit in his suggestion causes Tina to fleetingly consider it before she replies with a candid smile: “Yes, a little bit mad…..but go on, it helps!”

Cape Town based theatre director, Teddy Davies, is reviewing the set design for The Yeomen of the Guard, the Gilbert and Sullivan Society operetta which he will be bringing to the stage. With more than 30 years of experience as a theatre director mainly in amateur or community theatre and having directed productions such as Cabaret, Carmen, Annie Get your Gun, H.M.S. Pinafore and the musical Fiddler on the Roof, Teddy’s focus is now on the new challenge that lies ahead. Even though others would say that he could direct the new performance with eyes closed, this seasoned director still prefers to approach every performance with the same intensity and dedication as he has done when he first started as director.

With Teddy is set designer Tina Driedijk. Their focus is the first scale model of the set which she has designed. While slowly turning the dinner plate size platform on which a solitary cardboard castle wall stands proud, Tina explains how this feature transforms from the primary focus in the first act, to something different in following acts. Assorted textures and colours cleverly adorn the simple, yet dramatic design. Their discussion is a gentle ballet of input and response, of concepts and practicalities, of dreaming and realities. Not often does one see two creative minds in such intense unison. They are professionals who already live the thrill of a stage performance still to come when they discuss where each actor will be performing on the set. They spontaneously pool their creativity and take hands to ensure that the set design is of the same artistic standard as the operetta that Teddy will be directing.

‘Taking hands’ is perhaps the best way to describe Teddy Davies. Being highly respected in the world of theatre, one would expect of him to come across as important, even be prepared to forgive him if he is slightly arrogant. But no, this modest man who cares intensely about the people that he works with, is at his best when he can reach out and take hands to involve people to create something special.

Although Teddy is modest about his achievements in the world of theatre, he is extremely proud of the people from all walks of life that he has trained and built up and, in so doing, created splendid performances. "I cannot hit a nail into wood, but I have a visual talent and the skill to work with people. This enables me to get exactly what I want on stage. The satisfying part is to mould these amateur performers and bring their talents together to culminate into standing ovations,” says Teddy.

Teddy’s experience is that people become involved in amateur theatre for the love of it, as a hobby or they may have had strong ties with the theatre in the past. Theatre is a dicey occupation and often professional actors look to engage in other more ruminative occupations. Amateur theatre, therefore, offers the opportunity to still draw on the wonderful talent of the actor while he or she is employed elsewhere.

As in professional theatre, the director auditions and selects the best available talent. Amateur theatre, though, has its own challenges. It is easy to miss out on getting qualified people as the actors do not get paid. But then directors often discover talent at auditions to develop and perform to a professional standard.

There are two sides to Teddy when he directs a show. When he conceptualizes and plans the performance, he does it with precision. His detailed planning is evident in his comprehensive working manual. This enables him to still see the full picture during rehearsals, even if a player is absent for some reason.

On the other hand, Teddy also relies on his feelings while doing rehearsals and would make adjustments to his original plan based on his feeling of what is right.

Teddy acknowledges that it sometimes unnerves him if something on stage does not work as planned and immediate changes are required. “But then these are often the most creative moments during a performance,” he concedes.

There is an ongoing build-up in a play from basic beginnings and rehearsals, to opening night and the final curtain. “The players’ expectations vary so much,” says Teddy. “Players may start to feel inadequate and I then need to give them confidence. A lot of excitement happens when the cast starts to work with props and when costume fittings take place. Showing the model of the set on which they will be playing usually leads to lots of discussion. The opening night applause is always the cherry on the top.”

It is clear that Teddy is passionate about the people part of the work. When asked why, he replies: “Without them there is no show! Because it is their hobby, I want them to have fun while rehearsing and performing.  In this atmosphere of trust I often get to hear of personal problems. I am an excellent listener and always try to give support and sound advice.”

A big part of his success is his ability to listen. Being empathetic by nature, he is the one who would notice when a player is feeling down and offer encouragement where needed.

Teddy’s experience is that theatre itself is therapeutic for the players. He recalls how the father of one of the actors unexpectedly passed away during rehearsals. This forced her to leave the cast as she now had other, sad priorities to attend to. However, she soon came back, looking for the healing that the theatre offered her.

On a lighter note, Teddy recalls at least three female actors who had problems to conceive and who fell pregnant while doing a show. He relates this to the fact that the theatre environment is conducive to relaxing and taking the mind off the actor’s primary concerns. Needless to say, because of this, Teddy’s rehearsals are now also affectionately referred to as Teddy’s fertility classes!

When asked how he interacts with the bigger team such as stage managers, lighting and sound technicians, orchestra conductors, chorus masters, and others, Teddy’s answer is simple and to the point: “With the utmost respect. They are the top people in their field - I could not do their jobs.”

Bronwyne Scott, a seasoned amateur theatre stage manager who has often worked with Teddy in the past, says that Teddy is a strict director who demands perfection. He is a hands-on person who comes prepared and who believes in a disciplined approach.  “He knows exactly what he wants. He is extremely good at conceptualizing his ideas and he already knows every move before he comes to the rehearsal.”

“At the same time he is patient, soft, caring and loyal. He realizes the strength of people and understands the value of teamwork. His sense of humour is a big part in his success,” says Bronwyne.


Ferdi Oosthuizen who performed under Teddy’s directing before, values his old school approach to theatre. He refers to Teddy as a purist, yet able to successfully introduce modern technology into his work without deviating from the intention of the originator of a play. “He is innovative, yet conservative. His use of original techniques furthermore emphasizes the fact that theatre is a unique form of art in its own right,” says Ferdi.

Graham Boxall who has been working with Teddy for more than two decades now, echoes Ferdi’s viewpoint. He is, furthermore, of the opinion that Teddy’s approach is conducive to making theatre more relevant, thereby attracting younger people to become part of it.

Both of them agree that Teddy’s careful selection of the cast and his balance between being directive and non-directive, successfully allows him to give actors a particular freedom to interpret their roles.

Lead soprano Liesl Hartje in her role as Elsie Mynardt in the forthcoming The Yeomen of the Guard operetta, is extremely excited to be working for the first time under Teddy as director. Based on her experience of Teddy during auditions alone, she already refers to him as an honourable and incredibly devoted person. “There is humour, joy and a beautiful energy in everything that he does,” says Liesl. “I cannot wait for rehearsals to start! I can’t believe it’s real!”

Does Teddy ever get upset? “Yes, I do. It usually happens when I’ve tried everything else and it did not work. There is usually shock when I unexpectedly start to fume, but from then on things run smoothly, even better than expected.”

Teddy recalls an incident one evening when he hurled a chair into the air out of pure desperation when the players did not do as they were told. The next evening someone had lined up a row of chairs on the stage. When he asked what the chairs were about, the reply came from the cast: “It is your ammunition for the evening, Sir!” 

And then there are the ‘Teddyisms’ – the numerous Teddy Davies trade mark peculiarities that have become part of his directing over the years. “Show some zooch, people!” would often be heard when Teddy urges his players to put more zest into their performance. And ‘Doctor Stage’, according to Teddy, is the phenomenon that takes possession of the cast when needed most to ensure that they rise to the occasion.

When asked if he had won any awards in the past for his work, Teddy becomes silent, looks around to make sure that nobody else can hear him, bends forward and with big eyes whispers: “Lots!”


Several professional artists have started their careers under Teddy’s guidance. Comedian Mark Lottering, for example, started in amateur theatre with Teddy in a singing role. So did Angela Killian who performed in the role of Madame Giry in Phantom of the Opera at Artscape in Cape Town. Another successful artist who was first introduced to amateur theatre through Teddy is Craig Downs who went on to become the leading tenor of the Welsh National Opera.

Does Teddy perhaps consider scaling down?

It doesn’t seem so! For this energetic director The Yeomen of the Guard is only yet another new beginning! Following its performance in Cape Town, Teddy will be pushing the limits even further by taking the cast to perform at the annual International Gilbert and Sullivan Festival in Buxton, England. During this highly-acclaimed three week festival of Gilbert and Sullivan performances, they will be competing on an international level against eleven amateur Gilbert and Sullivan Societies from around the world. And it is not without challenges. They have less than a day to unpack, prepare the stage and to rehearse before the evening’s performance. Furthermore, in line with tradition, they will also stage a cabaret directly after the show as a bonus performance for special guests. “Madness! Wonderful!” exclaims Teddy, while rubbing his hands together in sheer excitement!

But in the end when the thrill of the show is over and the cast and audience have gone home, what remains is a man with a passion for what he is doing. The combination of the theatre, the cast, the set, the performance and the standing ovations is only the end result. The engine that drives all of this is Teddy Davies, fuelled by his vision, enthusiasm and love for people to make a difference in the lives of those that he touches with his talents, modesty and gentleness.

“Am I mad to suggest this?” Teddy asked.

“Yes, a lot. But go on – being mad is when Teddy Davies performs at his best!” Tina could have replied, knowing that those who know Teddy, will fully agree.

Saturday 1 March 2014