a blog that tells joburg's stories
The first time I met Toni, I was roped in to ‘push the buttons’ on a cheap CD player that balanced on a wonky stool. Toni was rehearsing a scene for a play (The Last Show) in her front room with Roberto Pombo, and it was my job to press play, according to certain cues. I missed said cues because I was completely mesmerised by her performance – even though it was ‘just a rehearsal’, it was clear to me that Toni was a hugely talented performer.
According to the Oxford Dictionary, the word ‘epicene’ means to ‘have characteristics of both sexes or no characteristics of either sex’; much like its meaning, The Epicene Butcher (And Other Stories For Consenting Adults) is very tricky to pin down: it’s theatre, but not…
I remember the first time I saw a dog walker in Joburg. It was a few years ago, and occurred somewhere between the last bastions of old, white wealth: namely Westcliff and Saxonwold. I was in a car, and was only able to catch a glimpse of a black man in blue overalls, with two Jack Russells tugging at the lead. The experience left me somewhat confused: did the dogs belong to the man? To me, it seemed incongruent if he was the owner. But I couldn’t pinpoint why…