Dare to hear the soul of SA

Because I am a journalist, rumours interest me. Because I am a journalist, facts interest me more.

This is some of what I have heard on the Port Alfred streets and in our supermarkets this week:

• Ooh, I hear that Festival has got very bad

• I believe Festival’s gone downhill

• Someone told me no-one’s going to shows

You get the picture. Perhaps you are one of these voices.

I have been at the National Arts Festival this week. I worked there as a journalist for four days, played there for two days, and am returning this weekend to do both things all over again. Before I go, some facts.

At the first performance I attended, I almost wept when the curtain went up and dancers – actual human dancers – floated onto the stage to the iconic opening bars of Rachmaninoff’s 2nd piano concerto. I had not realised how parched I was of the brilliant beauty that the human heart can make. South Africa breeds genius dancers who work at international-level companies – and they bring their gifts to our neighbourhood to transform us.

At another performance, this time an oratorio, a hundred or so musicians transported me on waves of impeccably-played sound to a land of optimism and glory, offering me a reminder of what we South Africans can do for each other if we dared enough.

Lucky for us, our artists do dare. So that we might nourish our souls with a choir of 40-plus voices accompanied by an orchestra, with spotlights that go on right when the soprano steps forward, with stand-up comedians unspooling joke after crack after acidic observation with no regard for our splitting sides, with national treasures like John Kani, with artists and crafters (many of them from the suburb of Bathurst), with Beethoven and Burt Bacharach, with fairytales and all-too-real tales.

This is some of what I observed this week:

• This year’s festival is not like previous festivals.

• I am also not like previous versions of myself (which two festivals were the same, BTW?)

• Yes, many shows are poorly attended.

• No, they are not bad shows.

Maybe, though, the mixed-up messaging is because people have stopped daring to hear what the soul of South Africa is saying to us. But there’s still time! The feast ends on Sunday. Let the aloes blaze your way all the way up to our national feastival, there is excellent coffee everywhere there, and a lot of free gifts to pick from. The Playhouse Truck is playing on the Village Green (which is back at VG school), all art exhibitions are open 9am to 5pm for nothing, the Sundowner concert at 5pm is a free blast for all ages, vendors in the white tents and on Church Square charge nothing for browsing.

The negativity bias of internet algorithms is not always an accurate groove. In the case of the National Arts Festival, it’s not even a faithful replica of one. My plea to Port Alfred is to keep falsehood off our streets and out of our supermarkets. And to try a day at the feast. The worst that can happen is you’ll learn something. The best that can happen is, well, that’s between you and the feast on your doorstep.

Gillian Rennie

Port Alfred