When I was younger my mother would often tell me stories about her own mother and how she single- handedly raised four children in a time when women were not expected to “wear the pants” in their homes.
And then there were those stories about when my grandmother became ill and how, at the age of 16 my mother, being the eldest, had to leave school and start her first job so she could finance their home.
And, only when I asked, she’d share stories of what it was like to live as a “non-white” under the apartheid government.
I cherish those moments because they are the foundation on which my womanhood has been established, as one draws wisdom and inspiration from such history.
But when you “grow up” and get caught up in life’s pacy rhythm, time flies and we often skip a few beats along the way – and it’s usually family who are sacrificed.
It wasn’t until recently that I realised I hadn’t had one of these sessions with my mother for way too long and it was Nomhle Nkonyeni and Val McLane whom I have to thank.
They performed in Two Women, Two Worlds, a production conceived, written and performed by the duo at the National Arts Festival in Grahamstown.
It has them unpack their histories, heritage, culture and selves on stage in storytelling format. They share, they question, they argue at times, laugh and find many similarities – even though society would perceive them to be worlds apart being from two different countries, two different continents, two different worlds.
Nkonyeni, born and bred in the Eastern Cape, was named by her grandfather, with her name meaning beauty. She never knew her dad.
She was raised to respect tradition and the culture of ubuntu – where, for example, everyone is your elder and if a child misbehaves, he/she can be reprimanded by a neighbour. She raised her children in the same fashion.
She is a woman who loves her culture, including ilobolo – which she does not regard as an imposition on woman in the modern age, but an act of respect. She suffered much humiliation and agitation during apartheid as she was forced to succumb to restrictions, saw her brother imprisoned and landed in trouble with the law.
McLane, born and bred in England, was named Vallery by her mother. McLane doesn’t know what her name means. Her mother’s parents died when her mother was young, so she never knew them.
In the UK, as McLane puts it, they don’t even know their neighbours, let alone allow them to reprimand their children – but she did raise her children to respect their elders.
While she never experienced it on the ground, McLane was part of the anti-apartheid movement.
Through a series of Q&A sessions between the two, occasionally involving the audience, some songs and poems and a few dramatic episodes, the audience learns of all these differences and similarities – like school ground games, or lullabies sung at night or storytelling.
The way the production unfolds is symbolic of oral African storytelling, where the elders share personal stories and histories with the youth. As Nkonyeni and McLane interacted with each other and the audience, it felt less like a play and more like you were on a one-on-one basis as the stories unfolded.
As I looked around the audience – eyes glued to the stage, some leaning forward in their chairs – it told me I wasn’t the only one feeling this way.
And the audience singing along with Nkonyeni as she sang African lullabies and wedding songs, and other audience members singing along with McLane’s example of the lullabies she grew up with – confirmed it.
Two Women, Two Worlds is a frank exploration of these two remarkable women’s existence in two worlds that are very different, yet quite similar.
On a broader scale you leave the theatre appreciating history, culture and heritage and difference.