One night, I found my way into a hole in the wall lounge called Tagore’s - little did I know I was stepping into my own version of an oasis. Thirty people were condensed into two rooms that barely fit a couch as a three-person band jammed an eclectic mix of Afro-jazz on the tiniest stage in the corner. A crowd of mixed colors blended together as they moved to the music, enclosed by a circle of good conversation and laughter. I immediately felt at ease amongst these beautiful, free-spirited souls and, of course, I started dancing.
I soon found out that the same place holds poetry readings on Monday nights and, given the love for poetry proudly passed down to me from my grandmother, I knew I had to go. The majority of the storytellers are Africans, so I was nervous that I would not be able to relate to what they were going to say – but not relate to other people? If I can’t relate to them then who can I relate to? Obviously, I was proven wrong. Hearing these storytellers has changed my life; the passion stirred within them as they express themselves through their poems is not only inspiring, but it recognizes the bond between the performer and those listening through surfacing the commonalities of the human experience. Their stories put different words to my thoughts, which helps me make more sense of what I think and simultaneously comforts me in knowing that I am not alone in feeling this way. Quotes such as “love opens your consciousness”, “self-hate is a sickness and we must identify a sickness to find the cure” and “understanding is all we need” are among the many expressions I’ve encountered in this community that helped me understand myself and the world better. Each time the crowd claps or yells or responds to the words of another, it’s because all of us are familiar with what the person is expressing – this is what poetry and all forms of good art do, they find a way to bring people together through provoking from us feelings common to humanity.
This week, the theme was “civilization and truth”, and one amazing woman expressed this in relation to her experience as a black South African. Her performance really touched my soul because she spoke about a lot of realities I have been noticing while here and have been trying to process. As much as South Africa preaches equality and progress, it does so under the rule of the wealthy, white class. Almost every time we’re in a restaurant, both in Cape Town and the ones we went to in Johannesburg, the typical situation is: a white person is the manager, perhaps a coloured person is the server, and the people working in the back are black. The same type of hierarchy is set up in other institutions, too, be it hotels, shops, or other organizations. Sure, people aren’t legally discriminated against because of their skin color, but they still are subjected to holding only certain roles in society – a society that this beautiful poet noted she is supposed to be a part of but really, she is just something to be played rather than a respected player. This all reflects the reasoning behind the idea Steve Biko supported, Black Consciousness, which I read about for the non-fiction book Marita assigned in her class. It is not until black people (and other oppressed groups) take on significant responsibilities in society that they can be conscious, contributing members of the civilization – even though this is a civilization that was imposed on them in the first place, the poet made the excellent point that blacks were the first people that had to be “civilized” and yet now they’re not even part of the civilization they were “civilized” into – WHAT?! How does that make any sense?! It DOESN’T. Those who were oppressed under the apartheid regime were and still are just puppets of the society, filling the few positions that are made available to them. I understand that a society of such overt subjugation of people can’t change over night, hell, the same scenario exists in the U.S. and we are several decades past the Civil Rights movement, but it’s still something that people need to be conscious of so that it can be fixed. But how can such a deeply engrained problem be eradicated? I side with Biko in saying through conscientious empowerment – people need to KNOW what they are capable of and go get it for themselves, because the civilizations of the past and present prove that when it comes to justice, you can not always (almost NEVER, unfortunately) rely on other people to grant it for you.
This is only one of the many thought processes that going to Tagore’s has stimulated in me. I plan to go to Tagore’s every Monday for the rest of the trip and, on the last week, I want to perform my own poem. I am not a poet but, like I said, the root of poetry is about expression, and I have much of that to do. The comfort I feel amongst these laughing, passionate strangers is a little intimidating but in the most inspiring and incredible way. With all the living and learning being done, I could not be happier to be in South Africa!
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