A day at the Kingsmead Book Fair
The Kingsmead Book Fair takes place annually in late May. It is usually a beautiful crisp late autumn Highveld day when a steaming hot cup of coffee calls, along with a browse through Exclusive Books before the first panel session of the morning. And then the day unfolds with different sessions punctured by catch-up chats with other bibliophiles, a little snack at one of the food stalls. And of course the book signings as I add more to the already overflowing shelves of books to be read, scanned, or even “absorbed by osmosis”. It’s all very compulsive and addictive and food for both the soul and intellect, and in the case of cakes like this … for the hips!
South African experiences
The last panel of the day brought a particularly South African experience. I had made the difficult choice, (difficult, as there is always more than one concurrent panel session that I want to attend) of deciding on “The Lekker is Profound” being facilitated by Bruce Dennill who is a very good arts writer and excellent chair. The three panelists were Justin Fox (Place South African Literary Journeys); Jonathan Ancer (Bullsh!t: 50 Fibs that Made South Africa) and Katlego Thulare (Welcome to South Africa Jou Ma Se Boek).
Justin Fox Place South African Literary Journeys
I’d been wanting to read Fox’s Place for a long time. Described as “a moving love letter to South Africa”, Justin combines his passion for travel with his love of literature. In a wonderfully evocative thought-provoking and critically informed introduction about the role of “place” in developing a sense of self, Justin takes a literary journey through South Africa. Choosing 9 South African authors, he visits the places they write about.
My proposed literary journey … will take me to the mountainous, moonstruck Eastern Karoo of Olive Schreiner, to the towering Drakensberg escarpment and big-game Lowveld evoked by Sir Deneys Reitz, to the pioneer highlands of Eugène Marais’s Waterberg, to the dreamy bushveld of Herman Charles Bosman’s Marico, to the plains of thirst, dust and heat of JM Coetzee;s Moordenaars Karoo, to the ancient forests of Dalene Matthee’s Garden Route, to the rondavel-topped hills and subtropical shores of Zakes Mda’s Wild Coast, and finally to the sandstone heights for Stephen Watson’s Cederberg.
I defy any South African ex-pat to read this book without having a hankering for the ‘homeland’ .. however hard they try to bury it!
Katlego Thulare’s self-published Welcome to South Africa
But my story about this session does not lie so much with Justin Fox’s Place as with Katlego Thulare – a man of flair, charisma and the most wonderful sense of humour. From a large sunflower yellow bag branded with “Welcome to South Africa Jou Ma se Boek”, Katlego produced an equally large stylish box (similarly branded) with a hinged cover and magnetic clasp and, like Russian dolls, this box opened to reveal Katlego’s self-published book along with a branded Katlego Thulare mug. (‘Jou Ma se boek’ humourously refers to a well-known Afrikaans slang expression which despite being highly insulting, is also, in typical SA irony, often unexpectedly endearing and funny when used between friends.)
Katlego spoke briefly about his current employment as a content creator, his interest in brand management and how he had decided to self-publish this book. But mostly he spoke about his early life. Born to two teenage parents in a rural Limpopo village Seabe, growing up in his Koko’s house, and then the various moves to kasi living in Warmbad (now Bela Bela) and then later Daveyton, Benoni and Springs. The respect and love with which he spoke about his young struggling parents was humbling: “two kids trying to raise a kid” with a discipline and tenacity: “the privilege to watch mom and dad study for exams by candelight. Or, by the glare of a paraffin lamp when there was a little bit of extra cash” .
The feeling of the richness of being brought up in a community permeated his account:
“.. what was intense about a village raising a child was that every adult had the same rights as your parents. They were invested in making sure the children in the community stayed on the right path. So if you were naughty, they would kick your butt like they were your mom. Then you’d get home looking like you were crying, and your mom would kick you some more for acting a fool while you were out in the street”.
But what was so remarkable was the achingly funny way in which he turned difficulties and challenges into truly funny situations through language, timing and close observation of human foible and frailties – the mark of a really good comedian.
Home is where they understand you
To conclude the panel discussion Bruce Denill asked each of the panelists ‘what home means to you’. Katlego spoke about his Koko’s house and explained that for most black people, “home” is their Grandmother’s with all its sense of tradition, familiarity, stability, security; deeply ingrained respect for the elderly; along with all the funny stories associated with the young coming back home from the cities to their rural homes. At the end of the panel discussion, when it came for question time I asked for the mic. I clarified that mine was not a question, but rather a comment. That for me, home is where they understand you or where ‘you get each other’. I said that although Katlego and I were far removed in terms of age, gender, upbringing, race, history and demographics, he made me really laugh and connect on a human level. I “got” him and he would probably “get” me. And for me – that is what ‘home’ means. There was a positive response from the audience with somebody saying to me at the end “what a lovely positive way to end the day”.
Feeling “rich” and “filled up” at the end of a wonderful day, I started to make my way ‘homewards’. Behind me, I heard: “Mam’ excuse me”. I though I’d dropped something and turned to see Katlego running after me his large yellow book-packet in his hand saying “I’d like you to have this as a gift as I so liked your comment”. I resisted at first, saying I couldn’t accept it, then said that I must pay for it. As he would not hear of taking no for an answer, I accepted with sincere gratitude and emotion.
Having become the proud owner of this wonderful publication, I’ve now finally had the time to read through it more thoroughly. It is constructed in an interesting form with the autobiography of his life interspersed with snippets about branded products from his childhood through to adulthood. Katlego’s is a remarkable story told with a seeming authenticity, a remarkable mix of humility and self-confidence. There is a searing poignancy as he starts school never having spoken English; as he enters high school and encounters racism in earnest; as well as differences amongst black people: “Being born a kid in the rural, bred eKasi and buttered in the city was tricky”.
At the Benoni High School:
The ‘white’ gate was where all the kids who lived in the suburbs nearby got dropped off in their parents’ BMWs and Mercedes entered. The “black’ gate was where all the taxis and Kasi transports made their drop-offs. I lived in a suburb nearby, so I used the ‘white’ gate. Ma’o’Lady would walk with me until the robot opposite the school gate. Many of my friends who entered the school via the ‘black’ gate always assumed I was getting a BMW or Mercedes drop-off too.
Katlego’s accounts of his post-school life describe his unsuccessful attempts to get a degree and then his foray into the arranging and marketing of music and dance festivals with growing success. But successes which were interspersed with failure. Married life proved to be an equal roller coaster.
The broad brushstrokes of Katlego’s story are not unique. As he says, ‘my life is the epitome of every South African stereotype”. He gives many insights into black culture such as a ‘quick crash course’ into how “black family trees work”:
“Eddy is my dad’s older brother’s son, which makes him my brother, and Thabo is my dad’s cousin which makes him my dad. I know, weird, but blacknically that is how it works”,
Katlego’s generosity of spirit, his wonderful self-deprecating humour and delicious comedic telling of his tale, as well his deep respect for his roots sit with me and I think if him often. He writes:
“I was born with an invaluable inheritance. It wasn’t a mountain of cash, tough. I inherited the strength of two grandmothers who were domestic workers. One raised 10 children, and the other raised six. I didn’t get a trust fund, but I learned the power of trusting in myself. What more could I ask for?”
I am richer for having crossed paths with Katlego Thulare … and I really do hope he makes it to the stage. He will do well. And I will be in the audience.