The South African National Arts Festival through "new" eyes.
A short reflection on experiencing the NAF for the first time as a veteran Rhodes student.
The National Arts Festival is a South African institution and has been the cultural paragon of Africa since 1974. It takes place in a small town called Makhanda (previously Grahamstown) every year in June/July, and its program is peppered with national and international acts alike. It is quite a grand affair for such a little town, too, and has attracted hundreds of thousands of attendees. Something else that makes Makhanda special: it’s home to a university called Rhodes.
I have been a student at Rhodes University for far too long, having been at home with the donkeys, potholes, and alcohol poisoning since Covid-19 initially emerged in this small town and marred my first year.
I have been here at the height of the pandemic, and I have been here as Makhanda has slowly stirred - reawakening and attempting to rescue the university, schools, and its economy post-pandemic. Yet, I had never been here for ‘fest’.
The National Arts Festival of 2023 was far more than I had expected. More people, more shows, more stalls, more vibes. I was apprehensive about what ‘fest’ might be like - having been warned by Makhanda veterans of its steady decline and the demoralizing turnout in recent years. But I have to say, I have never seen this town so alive. Maybe it was the slapdash effort of the municipality to fix the roads and clean up the town, but Makhanda was completely rejuvenated.
To support myself during the holiday, I worked at a bar called The Albany with my partner for the week - an institution in its own right (though all bars seem to be institutions in this town). A historic ‘clubhouse’, the member-only establishment opened its doors to the fest attendants and I got to interact with not only the most localized of the locals, but also various visiting musicians, actors, and artists. My dreaded part-time job resulted in some unexpected connections and insight into the mechanics of the National Arts Festival.
Every night the Albany had an open mic, with fringe performers claiming the small subsection of the bar that wasn’t populated by people or suffused by smoke. My evenings of serving were accompanied by poetry and local acts. Pichi Keane, Ndu Mdleleni, and Ingoma yoHadi - just a few artists I managed to catch. I remember Pichi Keane the most vividly, though. My partner was working that evening and called me in a frenzy. Of course, I expected the worst. Maybe an accident, or they managed to get themselves fired before they’d even begun. But no, they called because,
“Cass, you have to get over here. THERE’S A DRAG QUEEN.”
I walked into the bar and caught the tail end of what sounded like an aria - the drag queen could sing. It was because of this we went to her show, but the arias were replaced by sexual covers of popular show tunes and 80s songs, and supplemented by lascivious props (If Pichi Keane is ever in your area I highly suggest you go - she is amazing).
When I wasn’t working, my partner and I chased every experience we could. We went into the local high schools to see which of the Fringe program shows were worth the hype (the fringe program being self-funded shows by independent artists not formally added to the festival’s program), walked up and down High Street to see if we could find a bargain amidst the piles of thrifted clothes, and went to watch the Sundown concert, which acted like live trailers and previews for shows, whenever we could both get off of work.
I was ravenous to take advantage of this newfound culture and abundance that had seemingly sprouted overnight - my excitement at every new experience being magnified tenfold by the reality I knew would be left behind when the vendors and the artists departed. Makhanda is small and it’s insulated. New people are a commodity, and a change of routine even more so.
What I found most special about ‘fest’, besides the flurry of creativity and the passionate productions, was the sudden life infused into buildings which had just become place markers for me - a reference of how far I am from my apartment or how fast I have to walk to make it to a lecture on time. Victoria Girls’ High School became a well-organized theatre house and a bustling marketplace. St Andrews ruptured with the sounds of jazz. Town hall’s passages were punctuated by staunch applause almost every hour, and the Amazwi Literature Museum peppered its walls with visiting exhibitions.
Places became more than just places - the National Arts Festival transfigured Makhanda into a haven of connection, passion, and creativity. It is one of those phenomenons that you can only get a sense of through experience and as a BA major with a strong artistic-leaning, I am so, so glad that I was lucky enough to enjoy the 2023 National Arts Festival in its entirety.
Here’s to the coming June.