''It takes a moose to change a life...''

Last night I had the honour of seeing one of the most profound theatrical productions I have ever seen on a South African stage: ''Karoo Moose''. I laughed incessantly, I cried uncontrollably and I was moved and affected.
Some of my friends were unaffected – but most of the people I spoke to were stirred by this beautifully crafted production by director Lara Foot.

It was showcased using a very simple, yet effective set, simple suggestive costuming and a variety of African sounds and imagery. Some of which I am sure will stay with me for a long time to come.

I must be honest – (Rule #1 of a blog: always be honest) – I was apprehensive about seeing the show when I heard the theme and what it was exactly about.
I find South African texts and plays quite stereotypical and discriminating sometimes and I have often felt victimised when I leave a theatre space – just because I am a white Afrikaans-speaking male.

This has made me very disconnected towards many writers, directors and actors who still perform these types of productions – because how are they relevant to me today?
I am not saying at all that I don't want to hear about history or what had happened – but I think the generation that I live in now has come to a point where we are ready to move on.
And it sometimes feels to me like the arts are not yet read to step out of that box because: it works, I guess. Or maybe they are not sure if there are any stories to tell in South Africa that does not have some form of political, historical connection?
In a way – without sounding offensive - I have come to a point where I don't want to hear how bad Apartheid was for black people and how white people were all to blame. I also don't want to be faced with white guilt every time I see a sculpture or a film or a play that depicts a black person being discriminated against somewhere, somehow.
Because, it was not my fault.
I was never there, remember?
I wasn't even born yet.
And I don't think I should have to apologise.

Sometimes - and I don't think I am the only one – I feel extremely un-African. I didn't grow up in extreme poverty, my parents didn't have to struggle to be treated as equals in society, I never wear loin-cloths or goatskins and I never chant and pray to any ancestors. Is this what it means to be African? Am I not African because I speak Afrikaans and I am white?
I grew up in this land too, I have also tasted the riches of this earth, I have also walked the dusty plains of this barren soil – isn't that essentially what it means to call a country your homeland? Not how many ancestors you had living there or who was here first. Whether you are African doesn't depend on what the colour of your skin is or in which language you speak and sing – you are African if what you stand for is equality, acceptance, teamwork and a deeply rooted love for every crack and crevice this country has to offer.

Here is where I think ''Karoo Moose'' has hit the nail on the head – we have so many beautiful stories to tell, but they are not told because we focus too much on what has happened than on what is happening now.
''Karoo Moose'' tells the story of a village of people and how their lives are affected by the coming of a very strange ''wild moose'' to the village. The moose, which was supposed to be transported to a zoo – as a gift to the President – had managed to escape and is now wandering the Karoo in search of somewhere to belong. But, the story doesn't centre around the moose at all – it tells the stories of the people who have witnessed the moose's coming. Beautifully crafted stories displaying the complexities of the human spirit and our amazing ability, as Africans, to be resilient and to fight for what we believe in.
In ''Karoo Moose'', suddenly I didn't feel like a foreigner watching a South African play – I could relate to the stories, the imagery, the hurt, the brutality of life without feeling like any of it was my fault. I saw a white family living harmoniously with a black family – no victimisation, no discrimination. I saw the South Africa that I have grown up in, not the South Africa that Athol Fugard and others have created for us. Not the South Africa that was shoved in my face by older generations. And suddenly, I could relate.

I would like to thank the director, the writer and the performers for opening my eyes again to the wonderful diversity that is our country and for making me feel like an important part of that diversity.
Before last night, I used to feel like a lost white boy running aimlessly, without a home, without somewhere that I can belong in this extreme diversity that is South Africa. (a bit like the moose, I guess)

But, now, I think that that has changed.
I feel in touch, now, with every grain of soil, every mountainside rock, every drop of ocean, every African and their story.
Perhaps now... it is time to tell my own story.