Skip to main content

Abafazi : Womxn In Song

When was the last time you acknowledged womxn? When was the last time you acknowledged being womxn? When was the last time you sat back, looked at your womxn, said to yourself You're doing okay, and patted yourself on the back? I know.

With recent events that have seen stories of womxn abuse surfacing, and some resurfacing, it hasn't been everyday that you could reflect(on the good), as a womxn, and take in fresh air. How do you carry on when the womxn in your life can't even carry themselves? How do you walk the streets when the womxn in your life don't even want to see a street corner? How do you  brave the day with a smile when it's a cover for what's really going on? Well, be a womxn.

I got a breath of fresh air when I went to watch the amazing ten-womxn-band, Abafazi. LORD, I haven't floated in the air like that in so long! Seeing those Marimbas,  Drums, and Shakers on stage sure set the mood for a once in a lifetime performance. The eccentric entrance of the womxn on stage had me at the edge of my seat. Dance. Energy. Music. Song. Simply put, it was magic. When they broke into song, singing songs that we could all relate to, I knew I was never alone. It took them for the womxn in me to reflect as I teared away in awe and gratitude, seeing the unison founded on music, and then thinking, How beautYful when womxn stand together. The judgmental voice at the back of my head was immediately shut at the sight of these womxn. It wasn't about trying to infiltrate into pARTs of their lives they hadn't given anyone of the audience access to. I was content with who and what they presented. I was alive. I looked around, there was life. I took in the entire theatre's energy, there was a new air. An air of hope. An air of conquering. An air of belonging. An air of being and becoming.

Abafazi brought us home. They led us to ourselves and our people. The creative minds behind this ensemble deserve a standing ovation. Again, it was magic.

Love. Peace. And Womxn.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

THE CRY OF WINNIE MANDELA: DEPARTURES. WAITINGS. RETURNS.

SHOW: The Cry of Winnie Mandela  WHERE: The Market Theatre Laboratory WHEN: 04 May 2024 DIRECTOR: Momo Matsunyane August was Women's Month in South Africa, where we commerate the brave Womxn of 1956 on the 9th who were tired of waiting.  Over the years, I have come to use the day to reflect on my own personal experiences and draw inspiration from the Womxn in my life. Ibandla lam'. 'The Cry of Winnie Mandela' adapted for stage by Alex Burger, spoiled us with songs and amongst them was this timeless hymn:  "Bohang seema, ha ba hlaha ka kgoro Jerusalema e mocha..." Those that are familiar with groups of Womxn will tell you that in their meetings, conversations can easily move from marital and relationship bliss - or bleak as is the case with the Womxn in this play - through the latest news, down to song and wailing prayers. Different emotions were invoked with each song as 'Ibandla la Bafazi Abalindileyo' took us through their jou...

FINDING ME, VIOLA DAVIS

  "My entire life had been struggle and survival. I'd been on my own since age seventeen. The fact that it was hard, shitty, was nothing new, but the biggest struggle was keeping hope and belief in myself. Then, finding an art community for support while fighting my ass off to stay alive." - Viola Davis in her book, 'Finding Me' My biggest beef with poverty is that it sets one a million steps back. Poverty and lack will have you questioning your worth even when you receive what you have tirelessly worked your ass off for. Your voice is in constant fear-mode on subjects you're well-versed on. Your confidence is almost non-existent in rooms you deem above you. Saying 'no' is not part of your vocabulary because you always consider others before you. Yet, you are capable and deserving. More than deserving. Because who, if not you? Getting out of this pit is one of the most difficult things one has to go through. Unfortunately, a majority of Bla...

Born A Crime: a long awaited review by the Protégé

Born A Crime: a long awaited review by the Protégé It’s been well over a year since I read Trevor Noah’s Born A Crime; and I remember swearing to Self that I will review it as soon as I was done *insert laughing emojis*. Little did I know that I was going to live it (consciously so) more than reviewing it – this is one of the books I read in 2017 that was top of my Books I Would Recommend list, pretty much to anyone. Fast forward to 2018, Winter Recess, and my 13 YEAR OLD (I had to - #Pride people) nephew finds this gem on their visit. I tell him there’s a book he needs to read and essay (read review) before they leave and he didn’t waste any time. But first, he had to remind me that I robbed him of the chance to finish Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s Purple Hibiscus back in 2016 (circumstances, very special circumstances) when he was halfway through the book. Born A Crime was an intellectual debt transaction between an aunt and her nephew. Below is MK the Poet’s (as he c...