In the years that followed the end of apartheid, South African theatre was characterized by a remarkable productivity, which resulted in a process of constant aesthetic reinvention. After 1994, the “protest” theatre template of the apartheid years morphed into a wealth of diverse forms of stage idioms, detectable in the works of Greg Homann, Mike van Graan, Craig Higginson, Lara Foot, Omphile Molusi, Nadia Davids, Magnet Theatre, Rehane Abrahams, Amy Jephta, and Reza de Wet, to cite only a few prominent examples. Marc and Jessica Maufort’s multivocal edited volume documents some of the various ways in which the “rainbow” nation has forged these innovative stage idioms. This book’s underlying assumption is that creolization reflects the processes of identity renegotiation in contemporary South Africa and their multi-faceted theatrical representations.
Contributors: Veronica Baxter, Marcia Blumberg, Vicki Briault Manus, Petrus du Preez, Paula Fourie, Craig Higginson, Greg Homann, Jessica Maufort, Marc Maufort, Omphile Molusi, Jessica Murray, Jill Planche, Ksenia Robbe, Mathilde Rogez, Chris Thurman, Mike van Graan, and Ralph Yarrow.
This book explores contemporary African adaptations of classical Greek tragedies. Six South African and Nigerian dramatic texts – by Yael Farber, Mark Fleishman, Athol Fugard, Femi Osofisan, and Wole Soyinka – are analysed through the thematic lens of resistance, revolution, reconciliation, and mourning.
The opening chapters focus on plays that mobilize Greek tragedy to inspire political change, discussing how Sophocles’ heroine Antigone is reconfigured as a freedom fighter and how Euripides’ Dionysos is transformed into a revolutionary leader.
The later chapters shift the focus to plays that explore the costs and consequences of political change, examining how the cycle of violence dramatized in Aeschylus’
Oresteia trilogy acquires relevance in post-apartheid South Africa, and how the mourning of Euripides’
Trojan Women resonates in and beyond Nigeria.
Throughout, the emphasis is on how playwrights, through adaptation, perform a cultural politics directed at the Europe that has traditionally considered ancient Greece as its property, foundation, and legitimization. Van Weyenberg additionally discusses how contemporary African reworkings of Greek tragedies invite us to reconsider how we think about the genre of tragedy and about the cultural process of adaptation.
Against George Steiner’s famous claim that tragedy has died, this book demonstrates that Greek tragedy holds relevance today. But it also reveals that adaptations do more than simply keeping the texts they draw on alive: through adaptation, playwrights open up a space for politics. In this dynamic between adaptation and pre-text, the politics of adaptation is performed.
Writers of Indian origin seldom appear in the South African literary landscape, although the participation of Indian South Africans in the anti-apartheid struggle was anything but insignificant. The collective experiences of violence and the plea for reconciliation that punctuate the rhythms of post-apartheid South Africa delineate a national script in which ethnic, class, and gender affiliations coalesce and patterns of connectedness between diverse communities are forged.
Relations and Networks in South African Indian Writing brings the experience of South African Indians to the fore, demonstrating how their search for identity is an integral part of the national scene’s project of connectedness. By exploring how ‘Indianness’ is articulated in the South African national script through the works of contemporary South African Indian writers, such as Aziz Hassim, Ahmed Essop, Farida Karodia, Achmat Dangor, Shamim Sarif, Ronnie Govender, Rubendra Govender, Neelan Govender, Tholsi Mudly, Ashwin Singh, and Imraan Coovadia, along with the prison memoirists Dr Goonam and Fatima Meer, the book offers a theoretical model of South–South subjectivities that is deeply rooted in the Indian Ocean world and its cosmopolitanisms.
Relations and Networks demonstrates convincingly the permeability of identity that is the marker of the Indian Ocean space, a space defined by ‘relations and networks’ established within and beyond ethnic, class, and gender categories.
Isabel Alonso–Breto, M.J. Daymond, Felicity Hand, Salvador Faura, Farhad Khoyratty, Esther Pujolràs–Noguer, J. Coplen Rose, Modhumita Roy, Lindy Stiebel, Juan Miguel Zarandona
Transition Assistance Group) are strong indicators of apartheid’s slow demise within Namibia’s borders. Here, the focus is on the returning people, those who fled or fought—basically those who lived in exile for long stretches of time. The idea of reconciliation is central, as those who were away needed to
the future generations though? That’s it is (sic) okay to blot out pieces of history that we deem inappropriate? If it irks you, just get a bulldozer and remove it? It’s almost as if we just slowly pulled away the hand of national reconciliation. It’s clear there are still remnants of bottled emotions
grenade. Freedom Park, by contrast—though it cost far more than Heroes Acre, funding drawn in part from a so-called state ‘reconciliation package’—is relatively low-key, being hardly visible from nearby vantage points. Lacking huge statuary, it is an open site that blends into the landscape. In a sense a
silence regarding the bloody events in the history of the ANC ’s fight for freedom, will reconciliation be possible and enduring. This is the simple but key message of Mhlongo’s novel. The fact that reconciliation does not occur in Way Back Home , however, is a bitter testimony that Mhlongo issues to
, the spirit of reconciliation in 1990 was reflected in Gordimer’s comment on Goosen’s book that “the time has come to garner all aspects of South African experience,” as well as in the observation of Albie Sachs of the ANC that Goosen had “captured the psyche of present-day South Africa with humanity
details of what happened to people, and searching for ways of coping with the trauma of war. In the drive for national reconciliation and development, we sometimes forget that we can only really move forward when we have come to terms with the past. For that to happen, we have to know it and name it
parties to a dispute would come for help to resolve their problems and reach reconciliation. This is the definition of the ‘peacekeeper’ as told to Mama Penee as a child, and it always ended with the following verse: ‘Tji mwa kaengwango—hiyoo; Twendee Koya Nguvi—hiyoo; Nguvi wa re omutêna Kwenâ ramwenu