Journey through the heartbeat of Johannesburg’s theatre scene, as we trace its transformation from a tool of resistance under apartheid’s harsh censorship to a thriving space for diverse voices and stories in South Africa’s democracy.
The lights dimmed as two figures stood centre stage, gazing over at the crowd. A single spotlight cast long shadows and, for a moment, there was silence. Then, slowly, the haunting notes of Nkosi Sikelel’ iAfrika rose, not from a choir, but from the audience itself. It was a song that once whispered defiance in theatres, now sung freely in places providing a platform for stories of pain and success.
I was a part of that audience, sitting in the intimate space of Soweto Theatre, where the walls felt close and the stage small. We had just finished watching Woza Albert! and the air felt thick with unspoken words. The crowd, usually eager to fill the space with chatter, sat in heavy silence; heads bowed slightly, eyes distant, as if each person were lost in the story they had just witnessed. You could almost feel the weight of history settling over the room, as everyone absorbed the gravity of what had just happened.
When we sang, we sang with heart and, as the final notes of the national anthem faded, Hamilton Dlamini and Thulani Mtsweni quietly left the stage. The audience rose to their feet, their applause filling the theatre in a wave of gratitude. The woman standing next to me quietly wiped away a tear, while my friend cheered at the top of his lungs. It was an electric moment – one that we all knew would stay with us. It was more than just a performance: it was a story that mattered.
These are the kinds of stories that still resonate in the democratic South Africa of today. Yet, although they remain ingrained in the nation’s cultural memory, the word “democracy” is now more often tied to thoughts of politics – elections, government promises, and the ongoing fight for basic human rights like clean water and education.
Among these vital issues, we often forget the profound role art played in winning our freedom. Art, in its many forms, challenged societal norms and empowered black people to take agency over their lives.
Through art, stories of hope and resistance blossomed on stages on which actors dared to challenge apartheid’s brutality, feeding the spirit of a nation yearning for liberation. The names of photographers like Alf Khumalo, David Goldblatt and Sam Nzima often fade from memory, their lenses once capturing the soul of a nation’s struggle, now left in the shadows of history.
Writers like Steve Biko and Es’kia Mphahlele are often lost to time, their words once carrying the weight of a nation’s sorrow and hope, now drifting quietly through the corridors of memory.
Protest plays like Sarafina, once powerful voices against the injustices of apartheid, are now watched on Youth Day by parents and their teens – a fleeting moment of reflection before life carries on, as if the struggles they portray are distant echoes, easily set aside.
Protest theatre is a genre that emerged as a powerful force, distinct in its provocative and participatory nature. It stirred the soul, turning audiences from silent onlookers into fierce participants, igniting in them a fire for change and the will to fight for this.
As plays like Sophiatown unfolded on stage, it echoed to the streets of Soweto which erupted in flames when the young voices of the Soweto Uprising rose in defiance a decade prior. It was a gut-wrenching, yet beautiful moment of art and protest intertwining. As the screams echoed through the streets, voices rose from the stage. Though different in sound, they spoke the same language – delivering the same message. Theatre continues to serve as a mirror to society, reflecting its tensions and truths. But is its impact as powerful now as it was in the fight against apartheid? Does the taste of freedom still hold the same promise for South Africa’s people today? And how has the significance of theatre during apartheid evolved in contemporary times?
Theatre’s significance under apartheid
For Malcolm Purkey, renowned playwright of Randlords and Rotgut (1980), Sophiatown (1988), and Love, Crime and Johannesburg (2000), the significance of theatre as a vehicle for social change has always been undeniable. Sitting quietly among the vacant seats of the Wits Theatre, the founder of the Nunnery Theatre at Wits and its iconic box theatre recalled how his landmark play Sophiatown first found its voice at Junction Avenue Theatre.
The play draws from a poignant reality during apartheid. Based on the unique history of Sophiatown, a township where black people were allowed to own land, the play tells the true story of two Black writers who boldly advertised for a Jewish girl to live with them. This move challenged societal norms and the segregation laws of that time.
The opening scene creates the atmosphere with a soulful adaptation of Kofifi Sophia by the cast, with Mingus, one of the characters, sitting front and centre, his hat pulled low. His voice blends into the rising chorus as he states his claim: “We are staying here in Sophiatown.”
The other character, Jakes, a Drum magazine journalist, rises to speak, painting a picture of the heart of Sophiatown. He calls out its streets, the jazz legends and the political icons that walked on them, recalling the emotional energy and soul of a place both revered and targeted by the apartheid regime. It’s a declaration of identity, a memory of the township’s heart, and a warning of its looming erasure.
It is in moments like this – when theatre becomes a voice for the silence – that its role in history and today’s times is undeniable. When asked about theatre’s place in such crises, a quiet moment lingers before Purkey speaks. “I still believe that theatre has a right and a need to continue working, no matter what the state of the play is. And actually, if there are uprisings or, you know, revolutionary processes, theatre can play a part in that.”
Reflecting on theatre’s role in revolutionary processes brings to mind prominent venues like the Market Theatre. The theatre, originally built in 1913 in Johannesburg’s bustling Indian Fruit Market, took its name from this trading hub. In its transformation, it became known for something greater – internationally recognised as “The Theatre of Struggle”, a symbol of resistance against apartheid. The theatre defied the segregation laws of that time and dared to imagine a different South Africa.
Purkey recalls how the Market Theatre’s audience evolved, becoming a representation of the future the theatre-makers hoped to see – a diverse, non-racial crowd, hungry to see stories that represented their complex world. Who were these people? Where had they come from? What was it about their hunger that pushed them to seek storytelling?
“These people came to have their realities explained back to them,” Purkey remembers. They weren’t just entertained: they were challenged and enlightened by beautifully woven narratives, layered with wit and humour, despite the gravity of those times.
Long after the curtain call, these audience members would linger around in bars, filling the space with the clutter of glasses and the murmur of voices, sometimes slurred with drink, but always lively. It was more than just a bar – it was a forum, where political dreams, frustrations and a vision for a new future were debated into the early hours. Over the clinking of glasses and rising cigarette smoke, those conversations sparked with the same fire that lit the stage, painting futures that had not yet been written.
Although these conversations have long faded, the energy and ideas they birthed continue to ripple through time. The spirited debates and ideas of a new tomorrow may exist as echoes, but the desire for transformation has not been dimmed.
Instead, it has been passed down to a new generation – Gen Z – who find themselves at the start of their own defining moments. With their unique challenges, desires and visions, they stand prepared to rescript the narratives of the past and create new stories for the stage.
Gen Z: Rescripting the stage of change
Today, Generation Z, the digital natives, step into theatres, not to escape their world, but to transform it. In the 30 years since freedom was won, their stories grapple with modern struggles like LGBTQ+ rights, the #FeesMustFall movement, unemployment and the many challenges shaping young lives.
However, this generation, although present in the theatre world, does not make up a large percentage of the audience. In a Mail & Guardian article, titled ‘Theatre can return to grassroots’, several critical issues are highlighted about why theatre today may seem like it’s either facing a crisis or slowly fading away.
According to the article, one of the biggest problems is the lack of early exposure to theatre. Inside these theatres, seats once filled with different faces are now occupied by only a few people, many of them older, affluent individuals. The stories on stage are powerful, relevant – but something feels missing.
The kids from township schools aren’t there. The teachers didn’t bring them, because no school trips were arranged. The reason? Tight budgets and bus fares they can’t afford. Theatre, they believe, is for the elite. And so, the gap widens. Residents who live mere blocks away from the theatre see it as distant, unreachable. The stories might be theirs, but the stage feels foreign, inaccessible, built for others.
This is the growing silence that Gen Z has come accustomed to. Unlike the audience of the 1980s, who, as described by Purkey, needed theatre to reflect the struggles of their external world, today’s generation craves something more intimate. Rather than having the world explained to them, they seek an understanding of themselves.
A recent report in The Guardian found that one in three young people aged 18 to 24 are grappling with mental health challenges like depression and anxiety. As these numbers rise, so do questions of identity, purpose and belonging. This generation, confronted by a digital age that blurs the line between the real and the virtual, increasingly faces identity crises that deepen their desires for stories that speak directly to their internal struggles.
As Gen Z continues to search for stories that resonate with their internal struggles, the future of theatre must evolve to meet their unique needs.
Reimagining theatre: A path forward for a new generation
Lesedi Job (40) an award-winning theatre director, actress and voiceover artist is sitting in the drum room of the 10th floor of the University Corner Building. Job is also known for mentoring emerging artists and her advice to young creatives has always been simple: “Don’t chase the title. Society, especially with the rise of social media, pushes people to seek validation.”
Being in theatre is about doing the work: you will know if it’s truly for you before anyone tells you, Job emphasises. It is this wisdom, rooted in years of experience, that has shaped her approach to storytelling and mentorship alike.
Reflecting on the challenges theatre faces today, Job offered a compelling perspective. Ticket prices do not need to be lowered so theatre can become more accessible to people of all socioeconomic backgrounds; in her eyes, theatre is already affordable.
Job emphasises that reducing prices is not a solution, because at its core, theatre must still operate as a business and account for operational costs. Instead, what truly needs to be changed is how theatre is marketed – how it introduces itself to the public and how it calls to those people who have yet to experience its magic.
As she says this, a memory slips into my head. In the playwriting classes I attended during my undergraduate years, theatre’s lack of adequate advertising was often highlighted. One thinks of moments of driving along highways and seeing billboards dominated by banners promoting the latest Netflix series or adverts for consumer products. In contrast, a new play – particularly one that isn’t an adaptation of an apartheid-era classic or written and directed by a well-known figure – faces a far steeper climb to gain recognition. This highlights how much effort it takes for a fresh production to break through the noise and capture public attention.
Even without the widespread visibility of mainstream media, theatre’s role as a mirror to society remains as essential today as it was during apartheid. Although the world is no longer as deeply in touch with the medium as it once was, I believe theatre still holds the same powerful impact. It is finding its new voice in democracy, just as it decoded South Africa in a time of struggle.
Today, theatre aims to reflect who we are and seeks to explain the complexities of modern life back to ourselves. Although the taste of freedom may have shifted, the core, intention and heart of theatre remains the same.
FEATURED IMAGE: Joburg Theatre’s Instruments. Photo: Ofentse Tladi.
The financial contribution of storytelling to South Africa’s economy, highlights its influence across the national landscape.
Storytelling in South Africa has long been celebrated for its cultural significance, but its role in driving economic growth is often underappreciated. Beyond captivating audiences, the storytelling industry spans multiple sectors – from film and television to publishing and digital content creation – contributing to job creation, tourism, and overall economic development.
The data visualisation below delves into the influence of storytelling and uncover the ways in which it supports industries and generates income.
FEATURED IMAGE: SA Storytelling graphic created by Ofentse Tladi
Lobola negotiations are the cornerstone of some South African cultures, and no one grasps this better than Ace Ngubeni, the ultimate lobola negotiator.
Directed by Thabang Moleya, Lobola Man is a brilliantly executed romantic com that stands out with its unique concept. It centres on a character who turns the uncommon role of a Lobola negotiator into a full-fledged career. While being a lobola negotiator is typically a one-time or occasional event in real life, the film creatively imagines it as a recurring career, presenting this imaginative twist with a fun and light-hearted approach.
Given the predictability of the plot, the film still manages to captivate you with its sharp humour and wit. It skilfully embraces classic rom com tropes, like the notorious player finally meeting “the one” and the familiar enemies-to-lovers arc.
This film thoughtfully displays cultural diversity through authentic attire, accurately reflecting each culture’s unique identity. Ngubeni’s sharp intellect shines as he steps into a family home as a “fake” relative, quickly reading the room and using his keen observations to gain valuable insights into the family’s dynamics and strategizes the best way to win them over.
The film’s cinematography perfectly complements the genre, utilizing bright lighting that enhances the vivid, colourful clothing. The soundtrack, featuring lively South African classics like “Faki Mali” by Tumza D’Kota, further energises the narrative. The deliberate use of colour and lighting not only amplifies the atmosphere but captures the essence of city life and young adulthood.
Duke Maseko, portrayed by 31-year-old actor Sandile Mahlangu, is one of the Lobola Man’s more amusing clients. The dynamic between Ngubeni and Maseko adds a layer of humour to the film, as Maseko, unimpressed by his own family, enlists Ngubeni’s help to secure his marriage. Their playful, offbeat relationship brings a fun energy to the story, making their interactions a highlight to the film.
Overall, Lobola Man is a refreshing and entertaining watch. Its vibrant cinematography and engaging performances make it a standard rom com that offers both laughs and heart.
Whether you are familiar with Lobola negotiations or new to the concept, this film delivers with a fun, light-hearted experience that is well worth your time.
Vuvu Rating: 9/10.
FEATURED IMAGE:Netflix SA Lobola Man Meme by Netflix SA on Instagram.
Given how misleading period adverts can often be, it is easy to question what truly makes an advert effective.
Advertisers would have you believe periods are a dance party or a carefree stroll in the park. In reality, they are an emotional rollercoaster, and it is time we saw the truth.
Looking into what separates a good advert from a bad one. Graphic: Ofentse Tladi
The latest Always advert opens with five women in vibrant colours dancing energetically. As they dance, three boys dressed similarly appear, looking surprised by the scene. One girl playfully dances over one of the boys, heightening his surprise. The advert then wraps up with the product prominently displayed, highlighting the sanitary pad.
Instead of showing the reality of pain and discomfort, it presents an unrealistic and misleading image. Moreover, the scene where the girl dances over the guy feels inappropriate and out of touch with the true experiences of women on their periods.
The potential intention behind this advert is understandable as it aims to cast periods in a positive light rather than focusing on the negatives, perhaps to try bring hope to those who experience them. However, the reality of what one truly experiences during their period is more grim.
According to the National Institute of Health, many women and girls suffer from abdominal pain during their periods, a condition known as dysmenorrhea. This condition has psycho-emotional symptoms such as anger, irritability, and depression.
As a writer with a Bachelor of Creative Writing from AFDA, where I studied promotional writing and won the Undergraduate Discipline Merit Award in that field, I have substantial knowledge in promotional writing to decipher what separates a good advert from a bad one.
The basis of promotional writing and advertising is about connecting with your target audience. You want to make them feel seen, heard, and most importantly, you want a powerful call to action that compels them to take immediate action.
A recent Kotex advert titled “ProgressFeelsLike” exemplifies what I believe period advertising should be. The advert captures the often overlooked discomfort women experience during their periods.
It uses a narrative format, combining powerful voiceover with clips of women pushing through the sharp grip f cramps during meetings, discreetly checking for leaks on their pants in crowded spaces and fighting exhaustion while caring for their family.
The line, “being dismissed is being on your period,” underscores the frustration of having your struggles minimized simply because you are menstruating.
Another powerful line, “not comfortable, seen as not capable enough or as behaving enough,” captures the harsh judgements women often endure while on their periods.
These judgements manifest in different ways – being perceived as overly emotional or unreliable at work, having their capabilities questioned simply because of the natural biological process, or being labelled as moody or difficult to work with.
These assumptions can lead to women being dismissed or overlooked in both professional and personal settings, reinforcing the stigma and silence surrounding menstruation.
The world of promotional writing is really about storytelling. It is about using your brand to craft narratives that draw your audience into your world. Understanding your audience’s needs, desires, and pain points and then communicating how your brand can meet those needs in an authentic way.
Advertising is not just about making a noise and selling a product; it is about creating a melody that lingers in people’s minds long after the campaign is over.
FEATURED IMAGE: Ofentse Tladi, 2024 Wits Vuvuzela Journalist. Photo: File/ Leon Sadiki.
While South Africa’s TV screens lack no new telenovelas; the industry constantly fails to produce interesting story ideas that can keep viewers intrigued.
On February 23, 2024, Thabang Moleya, a South African Director, who has worked on projects such as Gomora (2020) and The Herd (2018) posted a question on X, asking his followers what stories they would like to see more of. Moleya explained that he posed the question because he is aware of audiences’ dislike towards the typical South African stories surrounding politics, taxi wars and “unnecessary sex scenes.”
What followed was a deluge of reposts and replies with people vocalizing their dissatisfaction with the industry. “It is not even about the storylines. The cast has no diversity. Everything looks like characters in a room reciting dialogue,” X user Siwe Memela replied. Another X user suggested a South African Science Fiction like the existing film Snowpiercer.
Popular telenovelas like “The Wife and The Queen have had their fair time in the spotlight; keeping viewers glued to their screens for a nightly fix of scandal-infused storylines – specifically stories about the drug industry.
After The River ended in 2024, BET launched Queendom, featuring familiar faces like Sindi Dlathu, Linda Mtoba and Hamilton Dlamini. Queendom follows Nthandokayise, community leader who discovers she is the heir to the Khahlamba Kingdom’s throne – a storyline previously explored on Mzansi Magic’s The Throne.
This is one of the problems viewers and inspiring actors face as the industry tends to recycle the same talent– which often leaves no room for diversified storytelling as actors get typecast; and new talent has no room for entry.
Despite Moleya’s question, audiences have always expressed their fatigue with these familiar storylines, and unfortunately the entry of streaming giant Netflix has meant more of the same.
Netflix South Africa requires writers and filmmakers to pitch to established agencies or a production companies with a proven track record, before they can get on the platform.
These agencies and production companies can be risk averse and often shy away from hiring new talent, preferring to collaborate with established industry professionals.
While broadcasters like SABC, Mzansi Magic, and Moja Love provide direct pitching opportunities, my experience as a religious viewer of South African series and telenovelas suggest that these platforms rarely produce fresh ideas.
According to News24, three aspiring content producers claim the Moja Love channel commissioned their proposals without informing or involving them.
However, South Africa’s law, as explained by a legal blog PopLaw, ideas themselves are not protected by copyright. “In order to qualify for copyright protection, an idea needs to be reduced, using the author’s own skill and effort, to material form.”
I believe the industry could be transformed by getting new writers into writers-room; and by recognizing that South African audiences want to see stories that reflect the current times.
FEATURED IMAGE: Ofentse vents about the South African Film Industry. Photo: Ofentse Tladi
Combatting gender-based violence with the Kwanele App. Source: Kwanele South Africa
South Africa has the highest number of violent acts penetrated against women and girls in the world. To help women be able to protect themselves, Leonora Tima created the Kwanele app.
The app, which can be downloaded on any smartphone gives access to its user a panic button – once its triggers, an immediate response from CASI, Kwanele’s partner armed response team will come to their aid.
Once activated with the survivor’s location, CASI immediately dispatches to the scene, regardless of where the victim is in South Africa. The app operates nationwide, ensuring that the persons’ physical locations does not affect how quickly CASI reaches them.
Tima started the NGO in 2020, after her nine-months-pregnant niece lost her life to gender-based violence. It frustrated her that her niece could not be helped before losing her life; and after, justice was not served. The experience left her so helpless that she left her work as as a director at Centimex at London, United Kingdom to start the organisation.
In 2023, she was recognised by InspiringFifty Africa, a global initiative dedicated to increasing diversity, as one of the 50 most inspiring women in technology.
The latest GBV statistics reported by Police Minister Bheki Cele reveal alarming figures for the third quarter of 2023: 10 516 rapes, 1514 murders, and 14 401 assaults against women were committed. These numbers highlight the urgent need to combat GBV through diverse and effective strategies.
On the app, survivors can discreetly and safely report abuse, bypassing traditional reporting challenges, and securely store photos, videos, or voice recordings as evidence for up to ten years to strengthen their cases.
Kwanele works with the National Prosecuting Authority (NPA) to ensure evidence collected through the app is admissible in court, strengthening a survivor’s case. It has been actively working with the South African Police Services (SAPS) to create a memorandum of understanding (MOU).
This MOU aims to improve the handling of GBV cases, from evidence collection to providing comprehensive support for survivors throughout the legal process.
But the app is currently facing several challenges including funding, victims ’s lack of access to digital devices, as well as user trust in the law enforcement. Kwanele recognizes that many individuals who need the app lack access to smartphones or the internet, and the organization is actively seeking solutions to address this issue.
Survivors often distrust law enforcement due to their lack of confidence in the legal system. Kwanele is dedicated to overcoming this challenge and restoring their trust.
FEATURED IMAGE: Screenshot of Kwanele – I Am Enough organisation. Photo: Kwanele South Africa
Women share their experiences with menstrual products in order to break the stigma surrounding menstruation.
As part of celebrating national menstrual health awareness month, Wits Vuvuzela spoke to various students about their experiences with feminine hygiene products. The month is used to highlight women’s experiences with these products; and address any misconceptions they may have about them.
Menstruation month is also celebrated annually to highlight critical issues related to menstruation. This can be combatting period poverty and debunking the misconception that considers women being on their periods as being “unclean”.
Sinovuyo Fosi, a 21-year-old Motion Picture honours student at AFDA explained that she normally prefers pads as she struggles with tampons because they never accommodate her heavy flow. However, an article on Healthline, a website and provider of health information, explained that when tampons are correctly inserted, there should be no pain or discomfort.
Guide on how to correctly insert your tampon. Photo: Ofentse Tladi
Like Fosi, Nicole Ludolph, a 30-year-old journalism honours student at Wits, prefers pads unlike other products.
“It has to be the Always brand that is extra-long and it must be flat, I don’t like the ones that are more spongey,” she said.
Ludolph’s issue with tampons stems from her fear of getting toxic shock, a rare life-threatening syndrome that consists of certain types of bacterial infections that results in your body releasing toxins that can cause organ failure.
But, Dr. Melisa Holmes, OB-GYN and founder of Girlology was quoted on Tampax explaining that toxic shock syndrome (TSS) infection is only partially linked to menstruation.
“Anyone can get TSS. Even men and children can get TSS, and only about half of TSS infections are related to menstruation. You are more likely to die from being struck by lightning than you are from toxic shock syndrome,” she added.
Dr. Holmes explained that users can avoid getting TSS by using the lowest absorbency tampons that will manage your flow. She also suggested the use of pads intermittently to interrupt tampon use.
Kele Kobokoane, a fourth year BCom Marketing student at UJ said she is reluctant to use menstrual cups due to concerns about the effort required for insertion – and doubts their ability yo securely manage heavy flow. Nqobile Khuzwayo, an AFDA graduate, echoes similar concerns. She explained that as a plus size woman, menstruation has always been difficult for her to navigate.
“Pads chafe me all the time whether it is winter or summer. I would love to try a tampon though, maybe my privates would not be in as pain for once.”
Dr. Meenakshi Bharath, a senior gynaecologist based in India on Happiest Health said it’s untrue that menstrual cups can get lost inside a woman’s vagina. “If the cup is not felt while trying to remove it, it just means the cup has gone one centimetre above fingertip”, she said.
Menstrual Cup Myths. Photo: Ofentse Tladi
On October 22, 2020, the National Library of Medicine conducted a study that concluded that 22.6% of women lacked the knowledge of using a menstrual cup while 56.2% feared inserting it. Out of the three hundred and fifty participants the National Library of Medicine gathered for the study, only 15.1% have tried using menstrual cups. This could be due to some of the myths as highlighted in the graphic.
As we navigate through menstrual health month, it is crucial to acknowledge that the above-mentioned myths scratch the surface of a much broader narrative.
As such if menstrual product uncertainties arise, seeking guidance from a gynaecologist is recommended.
FEATURED IMAGE: Celebrating Menstrual Health Awareness month with tips. Photo: Ofentse Tladi
The Joburg Theatre was packed, as Mpho Sebeng’s life was celebrated by family, friends, and industry peers.
The Joburg Theatre was the last stage Sebeng performed on, and it became the place where his life would be reflected upon and honoured at his memorial service on Thursday, May 9.
On May 5, 2024 Sebeng was involved in a fatal accident at Potchefstroom in the North West Province.
Sebeng’s acting career started at the age of 12 in a primary school play. He achieved full colours for Drama at only 17-years-old and his first television debuts were on “Justice for all” and “Zero Tolerance” which both won multiple awards.
Faces from the entertainment industry including Rosemary Zimu, Thato Dithebe, Mandisa Jakavula, and others were in attendance. Sebeng’s high school mates, teachers, and friends in the industry shared fond memories.
“His power and purpose sat in his ability to speak life into every single one of us,” said Reabetswe Tsobane, a friend from high school.
“You could’ve met Mpho for two minutes and you would have left with something,” Tsobane added.
Sebeng was not known as one to hold grudges. Conversations would often be defused with funny dance moves he would make to lighten up the mood.
His recent nickname “Luse” was based on a lesson his former high school mate learnt from him, “to let go of grudges, anger and pain, and to love loosely”.
Sebeng was described as a deeply compassionate gentleman who always put the interests of others before his own. In his matric year 2011, Sebeng came up with a song to help other learners understand and memorise the quadratic mathematics formula.
He was a serious actor that respected his craft. As a television actor, his debut stage performance at the Joburg Theatre was described as marvellous.
He tackled challenging roles, portraying Johnny in Athol Fugard’s “Nongogo” and performing in Shakespeare’s “Othello.” His portrayal was described to be one of excellence, as he skilfully navigated the psychological intricacies of both characters.
Mzwakhe Mbuli, also known as Robot Boii, shared a quote Sebeng shared with them: “Stay in school; God is good. Love your mama, respect your parents and be kind.”
As many share screenshots of their last conversation with Sebeng, one thing is common, he was never afraid to tell people that he loved them. Sebeng was laid to rest at Westpark Cemetary in Roodepoort on Saturday, May 11.
FEATURED IMAGE: People gathered to celebrate Mpho Sebeng’s Life ay the Joburg Theatre on May 9, 2024. Photo: Ofentse Tladi
Celebrating art can be about letting the art speak for itself, despite the artists internal doubts.
Wits Vuvuzela’s Ofentse Tladi doing what she loves most. Photo: Siyanda Mthethwa
As a writer, I consider what I do to be art, every sentence and turning over of a word a new brush stroke on the page in front of me.
In April 2013, I sat behind the my study desk and instead of scrambling through the never-ending Grade 5 maths homework, I wrote my very first story. It was not planned, the pen just kept going, writer’s block non-existent concept in my head at that point.
What stared back at me in that moment were pages and pages of what I now consider the worst thing to have ever been possibly written in human existence. A story about a girl trying to find herself amid her family’s chaos.
A story I’ve now learnt to partially like or at least, appreciate as a starting point. A story that now sits, cramped in the cupboard with many other pieces. Pieces that have probably long cried out to be heard but have been overshadowed by doubt, fear and many other endless reasons.
Doubt and fear – words that have somehow been ingrained in the minds of artists. Something is just never good enough, interesting enough, anything enough to be shared. It’s this constant battle between the artist and the art itself to be heard.
Your “April 2013” days have long passed now, and like the Grade 5 maths homework, you have to scramble through the very essence of what you do, the very essence of who you are.
To me, celebrating art is about learning to let your work speak for itself in its current state. To let readers, viewers and consumers delve deep in the imperfections of your creations and find beauty in that. It’s about building the trust you have in yourself as an artist and within the work you produce. It’s about attempting to revisit those “April 2013” days.
As a writer, when last did you sit and simply write a piece? When last have you blocked out the thousands of reasons your mind automates that make it ridiculously hard to simply just write? When last have you given your work a platform, a chance, a moment to simply just exist?
For art to be art, it must be born, with or without the doubt, the fear or the endless scrambling. It matters because it speaks. It is its own.
Societal expectations and experiences can often place pressure on people’s relationships. With Valentine’s Day coming up we have asked individuals questions about their views on certain relationship dynamics especially when it comes to the most anticipated day of the year for some lovers, Valentines Day. Viewers shared their beliefs and Siyanda and Katlego talk about […]
