Of budding township artists and an unlikely poet

By Phakamisa Mayaba

The paltry turnout last  Saturday did little to dent Unathi Asiya’s goal of introducing the youth of Colesberg’s Kuyasa Township to a solid arts programme. Ideally, not the most promising day, because this is when community members bury their dead or honour the ancestors. The Seventh Day Adventists strictly reserve it for worship, and it’s usually the only time when the regular nine-to-five crowd can unwind.

Nonetheless, on an overcast afternoon, the Open Mic Day organised by Asiya’s very own Nathi-Nice Affairs proceeded inside the Kuyasa Community Hall. One after another, aspirant performers took to the stage. Among them were budding poets, musos, storytellers, and even the bulky bouncer – the Barry White of Umthombo Wolwazi – who was so inspired by the children’s chutzpah that he left his post at the entrance and read a poem he had downloaded right there on the spot.

Unathi Asiya, the woman who hopes to bring the arts to the people.

The performers, all from the Hantam Community Education Trust’s Umthombo Wolwazi Intermediate Farm School, and most barely standing taller than a doorhandle, brought with them the courage of their aspirations, and hit the stage running. Sometimes even dancing.

The Xhosa imbongi writhed emphatically, the budding pop star gently serenaded. Michael Jackson renditions blared from the PA system, emulations of Gcina Mhlophe’s storytelling had the place straining for every word. Tiny but resonant and motivational voices, there to have their say, there to have fun. The audience – mostly parents – cheered, ululated, sprung to their feet, and winced in pleasure.

A sudden feast of both rehearsed and impromptu creativity – if you wanted the microphone, you could have it. And kids like 10-year-old Omphile Smit were a reminder of the unexplored – sometimes neglected – talents slumbering amid the daily struggles and disaffection in the townships, as well as a Sport, Arts and Culture Department that has for the better part of ten years been regarded as little more than a write-off.

Smit recited his own poem ‘The day of an artist’, and passionately declaimed: ‘I love art, it warms up my heart. I want to be an artist, so everyone try this … I hear everyone go chitchat and hear my brush go plit plat.’ Not the poet laureate quite yet, but very promising all the same.

Young Omphile Smit.

These are exactly the sorts of hopes that Asiya wants the kids to have, and the heights they believe they can achieve. As the assiduous choir master at Umthombo Wolwazi, she has taken its ‘miracle farm school’ choir to the national stage where they’ve repeatedly made the nation look at them and remember they were there.

An exceptionally dedicated teacher, she now carries around more ambitious hopes, namely to establish an ongoing after school arts programme open to all of Colesberg’s children. To provide something that not only keeps them busy, but also allows them to reimagine what else could be out there for them. Of course, they could become lawyers and accountants, but why stop them from being geniuses of the spoken word or the next Brenda Fassie if they have someone who steers them down the often ignored path of the arts?

Not too long ago, the only idols a child from the Karoo might have looked to were the ones they saw on MTV. But people like Asiya provide a liberating message: with enough commitment, you too are capable of making a name for yourself among the very best. If  you’re skeptical, perhaps you could take a closer look at the story of Mnqweno Ngqandu.

It’s the hard-luck stories like his that come closest to laying bare the resilient grind of cultural and creative rejuvenation that rustles in modest homes in the townships of Kuyasa. It’s a Wednesday, and the final-year university student is up late at night in the kitchen of his family’s four-roomed home.

It’s almost midnight, and his two uncles, Pon and Gastra, have finally turned off the TV. The matriarch, Sophie, is taking in Zs in the one bedroom. Her two foster children are also fast asleep in the room which they share with Mnqweno. It’s been another long day, and, for the young poet, it’s only just beginning.

Mnqweno Ngqandu about to perform. Image: Mnqweno Ngqandu Facebook page.

In that stillness of the night, Mnqweno burns the midnight oil, plucking words from his mind and carefully arranging them in his exercise book as he scribbles his latest piece. Another harrowing Xhosa creation about loss or mourning, but one that also sees beyond the sadness and agony, and takes the listener to a place of peace and comfort.

Raw, thoughtful, and sometimes painful pieces, almost always told with an affectionate smile, even though they are sometimes an ode to a departed grandfather, or a nostalgic glance back at something lost forever. The casual delivery is that of a person who’s experienced way too much joy, but his real life has been anything but.

A rather familiar kasi story, in fact. Mom dies when the boy hardly knows her, so he is raised by grandma. Despite the stalking poverty, the boy actually walks an honourable path. He goes to church, gets good grades at school, and never forgets to respectfully greet the neighbours. The peer pressure is never too far off, nor is the soccer. But the language classes at Umso High School are particularly exciting, and Mnqweno is not shy to be the first to put his hand up and deliver an unprepared speech.

It is at Kovsies, the University of the Free State, where his love for Xhosa poetry truly flourishes. He joins a cultural body, immerses himself in his craft, and before you know it he’s randomly reciting his creations in front of fellow students. The videos are uploaded on TikTok, and soon the boy from Kuyasa has a growing audience. An audience in the world of influencers and ‘likes’ soon translates into bookings, performances at high-end functions, and suddenly the dream starts to turn into reality. (To see him perform, go to his Facebook page at Mnqweno Lonaliinamandla Ngqandu.)

Next year, Mnqweno is due to graduate in education. But, already drawing small sums as an imbongi, he has discovered the same thing that Asiya is trying to impart to her young charges: if you look and work hard enough, a new avenue may open up to you. With her open-mic event, and the enthusiasm of the young ones, Asiya has set them well down that path. Next time, one hopes, more community members will come along for the ride.

Featured image: The young performers at the recent Open Mic Day in Colesberg take a brief refreshment break. All images: eParkeni.

This is an edited version of an article on Phakamisa Mayaba’s own website, eParkeni. Used with permission .