Wednesday night we were walking back towards the dorm after Tucan Tucan and noticed a large crowd around a few street performers. There was a group of white South African Fire Dancers accompanied by a group of black South African drummers. There was one dude in particular with long blond stringy dreadlocks and baggy clothing doing Capoeira with double fireballs attached to a chain in each hand. He was by far the craziest fire dancer; you could literally see the ends of his hair being singed while he performed {although I’m pretty sure he was high at the time} and he just kept going. The balls are dipped in a fuel that burns clean, so it doesn’t hurt your flesh; but fire is fire. Hair, cotton, and other highly flammable materials will go up in a blaze of fury.
My favorite fire dancer juggled fire sticks while riding a tall unicycle. When he would ride near the edge of the circle, the crowd would shift backwards away from him with a gasp. He was followed by an Asian fire dancer, who did handless cartwheels while twirling six prong flaming batons. Insanity, but very entertaining for 11 pm on the street corner.
Like most street performers there is a bucket or bowl in the center of the performance circle for crowd to tip the performers. Occasionally someone from the group will grab the bucket or bowl and walk the circle to collect money. During the performance one of the drummers picked up the bowl and walked the circle. We were on the outer rim and after Marcus reached across the crowd to put money in the bowl, the drummer stepped out of the center circle, past me, to allow the couple next to us to put money in the bowl as well before returning to his drum. A few minutes pass and one of the female fire dancers empties the money from the bowl into her hand and then crosses over to the drummer and begins to speak very sternly to him, which immediately grabs my attention. She is accusing him of stealing money from the bowl and he is trying to explain that he didn’t take it. Her tone and gestures are extremely condescending and I can see how helpless and frustrated the drummer is feeling by the accusations. He tries to explain that before he had the bucket a small black boy had walked around the circle collecting money with one of the white fire dancers and that when the child brought the bowl back to the center it was empty. I tried to go back to watching the fire dancers but I couldn’t stop watching this woman attack the drummer. She called over several other fire dancers, as she knelt before him screaming in his face. One of the unfortunate remnants of apartheid is a level of disdain, and an unspoken barrier {especially} between lower class blacks and whites in South Africa. Nothing he said was being heard. None of the other drummers were willing to get involved in a public dispute with these white dancers. After about five minutes more of watching the little drama unfold, with the woman walking away (repeatedly) in frustration, then coming back to yell some more, I decided to pull the woman aside and speak to her. (One clear experience I’ve had in South Africa is once Afrikaners hear you speak and recognize you are American, you are magically no longer Black and therefore a respectable peer. I’m going to have to do a whole blog post on the many different experiences Marcus and I’ve had with White South Africans being a little to free with the way that they speak about Black South Africans in front of us.)
I pull the woman to the side of the crowd and explained. “Excuse me, but I couldn’t help but hear you speaking to the drummer about stepping out of the circle with the bowl of money. My husband and I were on the outer rim of the circle and we put money in the bowl. He then stepped out of the circle and stood in front of me while the couple next to us put money in the bowl and then went back into the circle. I certainly did not see him take any money from the bowl. There was a small black boy that walked around the circle with the bowl of money about 10 or 15 minutes before the drummer , but he was holding hands with one of your companions. Perhaps you should check with her to see if she emptied the bowl before putting in back in the circle.”
“Oh. Well these people have stolen from us before. Last week they stole $200 and we need the money for our fuel, which is very expensive.”
“I understand that… did you let the same people who stole from you last week come back and drum again for you again this week?”
“The drummers are different all the time. Do you see the boy now that had the bowl?”
“No. But you should check with your companions.”
GRRRRRR… Woooo Saaaaa.
Okay explain it to me again, how you have different drummers every week, but “they” stole money from you last week. Who the %$@# is They? The accused drummer nodded to me as Marcus and I walked away. I’m sure he didn’t collect the apology he deserved.
1 comment:
As Colonel Vuono would say, "Who is 'They?!' Stop 'They!!!!'"
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