The heartthrob introduced me to the producers of Generations. I auditioned for them and landed the role of Ntsiki Lukhele in this show that portrayed successful black people in the corporate arena. Rich, beautiful and ambitious, I landed the role of “the bitch”. My life changed for ever.
I rose in about two years from being a no-name English actress to being one of the biggest household names South Africa had ever seen.
Life as I knew it changed completely.
I bought my first house: a beautiful townhouse in a place called Northgate. What a feeling to own property. My parents were brimming with pride as they watched me rise from bohemian artist to high-earning television success story. If only life was like the movies, this would have been the happy ending. Girl finds her way back to her roots and rises from rags to riches. The End. Unfortunately, life just isn’t like that.
Ntsiki became ever more popular, to the point where it was even a little uncomfortable living in a complex. Random people started knocking on my door. When I opened it, they would often shove kids in my face, toddlers who couldn’t possibly know who I was. I stopped opening my door. This did nothing to stop the intrusion into my sanctuary. They began to gather on my little patch of garden and watch me through the window as if they were watching television. So I stopped opening my curtains. My world was becoming more and more isolated and dark.
What I didn’t realise was that this was happening to me emotionally and spiritually as well. My world was shutting down. Forming genuine friendships became nearly impossible. I learnt not to trust anyone. My life was slowly becoming consumed by the persona of Ntsiki.
Increasingly, I found pleasure in my own company, the only company I could trust. Only I didn’t. Not enough. I was losing perspective.
From time to time, I would visit my parents in Cape Town and wallow in their love and support. I felt such a fake. I was on the cover of every magazine. I was always doing television, radio and press interviews. Even my poor parents had to contend with the fans when they realised who they were. Fame is such a strange thing. You end up having to protect your loved ones from its relentless, merciless, slashing claws.
I remember years before this watching a soap star being interviewed, and thinking: I want that for my life. I had unwittingly planted that seed and now it had taken root.
All kinds of suitors making a bid for my attention. It was kind of scary; I was losing focus and had lost the ability to be discerning. It got to a point where I felt I needed a partner for protection, just to say I was with somebody. I ended up having an affair with a producer who I will call Forbidden Lover. He was one of the rising, successful black producers. The only problem was that he had a live-in girlfriend, so we could not go public with our relationship. I was all over the place. And it was in the midst of this confusion that I met Farai Sapiens.
I had been performing in a play at the Market Theatre, The Good Woman of Sharkville, directed by Janet Suzman. I met him because he had accompanied a friend of mine to the play. After the show, I met them at Nicky’s, this really cool jazz bar across the road from the Market Theatre. High from the performance and feeling totally open, I remember being fascinated by this young man – he was seven years younger than me. He seemed different. Articulate, energetic, insightful and not at all fazed by being in the presence of the biggest “bitch” on television. Farai loved to see himself as an experienced hustler, so I guess part of his “hustle” was not to react to who I was so, I would feel comfortable and at ease. That night, when I climbed into my Mercedes-Benz 180 C Class, I had a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. I never imagined I would see Farai again.
If only it had ended there.
Several weeks later, there was a party at the production offices I now owned with my Forbidden Lover and Themba Ndaba. We decided to celebrate the completion of the first project we had co-produced. After the party, we business partners decided to go dancing at a club in Rosebank. The club was heaving that night, completely in keeping with our mood – we were feeling invincible. Suddenly out of the bodies bouncing up and down to the beat, Farai Sapiens morphed into view. I smiled with glee, remembering this refreshing young man’s name. Consumed by the moment, I danced suggestively with Farai and gave him my number.
I was very drunk and feeling extremely reckless. Forbidden Lover at some point whispered in my ear that he and his girlfriend had split up and that she had moved out. He then suggested that I follow him home. All I can say is that my libido took over. It was all so dangerous, so out of control. I was falling further and further down a very dark and slippery slope.
We sped along the motorway to his house. I could barely focus. I was so drunk, I didn’t see the police van that seemed to come out of nowhere. The whole front of my Mercedes was damaged badly and my car had to be towed away. To be honest, I don’t know why I didn’t land in jail. My life had come to a crashing halt, but instead of stopping and taking heed of this humungous warning, I shoved it aside, climbed into Forbidden Lover’s car and landed in his bed for the night. In the morning, I woke up to this woman staring down at me and telling me to get out of her bed. Forbidden Lover and I froze. The woman in question, his so-called “ex” live-in lover, was clearly back. I was stuck under the covers, watching this weird, vicious shouting match happening over my head.
I couldn’t move – I was naked under those sheets!
He finally steered her out of the room and I ran into the bathroom to put on my clothes. I remember sliding to the floor in complete shame. I felt like a whore. I was a whore in more ways than one. I had created a very bad cause for my life. I was feeding a beast in my psyche I had never met before, and all it wanted was fame and money.
* This is an extract from Dancing to the Beat of the Drum by Nomvete, published by Kwela Books at a recommended retail price of R195