The Fruit-basket

I had an interesting weekend - spent it with wonderful friends, good food and a good wine. There were so many great conversations, but the one that stuck with me the most was a conversation I had with my good friend and neighbour. We were making tea and chatting when I announced that I had just bought a huge bag of dried fruit. This is significant to my life as I realised that I will save a heap of money this month because I won’t be buying so many small packets of dried fruit. One may even call it a minor triumph! I digress… The man, obviously sharing in my delight, asked if there were any ‘ears’. I handed him the packet from which he pulled out a dried pear. He held up his prize and pointed out the many ways in which it looked like an ear. I plucked a pear from the packet but instead of an ear all I saw was a vagina. I didn’t want to be ‘that’ girl so I just offered a feeble: “Well I guess if you hold it like this it looks like a pixie ear.” He took a moment to contemplate this and said: “Actually it looks like a vagina!” I was so relieved that I was not the only one who thought that. I said as much and carried on rummaging in the fruit packet. But he just carried on exploring his dried pear. “Look it even has that beaky thing.” He pointed to the part of the pear that looks like a clitoris. I just replied with: “hmmmmm”. But before I could add anything to that, my neighbour continued “I am not really sure what that thing is all about - I just generally ignore it!” I stopped drinking my tea and stared at him.

I share this anecdote with you not only because it is funny, but because I have been thinking about the pussay for a while now. No, not in that way. It’s my annual you see - every woman dreads that visit to the gynae – but we gotta do it I know most people don’t want to know about this stuff - but for the rest, let this be an education.

The test is pretty standard, and I know that the doctor has seen a million vaginas and she really doesn’t care, but you still want to look your best. I decided this year I was going to go all out and surprise the good doctor with some vajazzeling. This is the art of bejewelling ones V. Unfortunately I couldn’t find a salon that did it, so I opted for the old Hollywood wax instead. You know – give her a real good view. (A Hollywood is the art of removing every single hair from the pubic region. EVERY SINGLE ONE).

The Beautician asked me what the occasion was (she could see that I had not been there in a while), to which I responded: “I am going to see someone really important – someone that I haven’t seen in a while.” She asked me if I’ve ever tried ‘bleaching’ - which I hadn’t. “You simply must try it,” she said, “This is the new thing that everyone is doing.” I was convinced. The next thing I knew, I found myself on my hands and knees with the beautician painting bleach onto my actual ass hole! I don’t know what I expected when she said ‘bleaching’ – but it was not that!

Actually the whole ordeal was rather liberating and the bleach was rather soothing in a cold-ointment-on-anus kind of way. And once I left the beauty salon I could not wait to show the gynaecologist. I have a strict rule: Only sexy people are allowed to see/touch/feel my vagina. My gynae is the hottest doctor I have ever seen. She is always dressed is sexy evening attire, full make–up and jewellery. I don’t mind her around the bits. In fact, the worst part about the visit is sitting in the waiting room, because at my age people assume I am a pregnant teenager or that I have a venereal disease! 

There is a point to my mingy ramblings – I am not just a crazy feminist wanting to do another vagina monologue. I just want everybody to be aware that they have a V and, unlike my neighbour, I expect everyone to know exactly what it does so that you can use it properly and protect yourself from people who can’t. And even though it is a really uncomfortable visit, you should go see your doctor once a year. I guess that concludes my women’s month monologue. (Also get the breasts checked – because you are special.)

Imvula/ Hope at The SA Women's Arts Festival 2013

photo: Val Adamson

Whilst discussing art, a friend of mine said that the role of the artist was to feel - to feel so completely that they took on the burden of ‘feeling’ for the world. He said that art allowed people to see their own feelings through the eyes of the artist without having the pain of going there themselves. I came home from the opening of the SA Women’s Arts Festival last night feeling emotionally vulnerable. I made myself a cup of rooibos and honey (that is what my mom used to do for me) and popped a Bella Jo lasagne in the oven (that is the closest thing to a home-cooked meal I had) and sat down to write about my amazing night of dance.

I was privileged enough to watch Imvula/Hope which is part of the double dance bill featuring Flatfoot Dance Company's Hope and The Playhouse Dance Residency’s Imvula which was choreographed by the award winning Christopher Kindo.

The show began with a moving piece of choreography with music played live by Shannon Hope. For me this was one of the best Flatfoot pieces of recent years. I am such a huge fan of the company that anything they do is really remarkable. This piece showed a sensitive, more feminine side to the company that I haven’t seen in a while. Their work often leans towards a more serious persuasion but this piece was also a lot more playful, even interactive at times.

The second piece of dance was the first I had seen by this relatively new company. The dancers were so technically skilful, although their performance lacked a sincerity that I had seen in the first half. That was what I thought until I saw the second act which I am told was a tribute to a young dancer from the company who had died suddenly. Within the first few minutes I felt fragile and vulnerable. The piece showed an organic circle of life where the dancers evolved from crude forms into tribes of people. Indicative of the life that they had just lost, it showed a kind of organic fragility which was so human I could not help but get caught up in the beauty of the piece. I was in absolute tears by the end – I mean ugly tears, not the womanly sob one would find from a lady.

Needless to say – you need to get to see this amazing piece of art - the artists took me to that ‘feeling’ place. And if you’re not into that ‘feely’ stuff, then go anyway because it is lovely to go to the theatre and watch beautiful people dance.

The SA Women’s Festival runs from the 8^th till the 17^th August. The Imvula/ Hope double bill will be showing at The Drama Theatre, Playhouse on the 8^th; 10^th; and 11^th August at 3:30pm and 7:30pm. Tickets cost R 80 or R 35 for students. Contact Box Office at (031) 369 9596/9540 or Computicket at 083 915 8000

Durban International Film Festival 2013

At the Blue Waters Hotel, the DIFF headquarters.
Look at me all smug with my DIFF bag and media tag!

Ok fuck!  I have been moping around for a month now complaining that “I have writers block”,  blah blah.  Meanwhile I have spent July going to the most amazing functions and parties – what more inspiration does one need! I tell you – sometimes I could just slap myself. Naughty! So within the next few days I will try to catch you up on the last month.

Ok so the last thing on my agenda was the Durban International Film Fest (DIFF). This is always a highlight for me - remember last year with the strippers and the getting drunk – well there was none of that this year. I was the picture of a good journalist, which I had to be because the whole festival became a media spectacle.

I attended the opening night in the usual full regalia, my small purse however did not allow for a pen and pad – the usual tools of my trade. But I thought what the hell, it’s the same every year and all the major points will be sent to me in an e-mail. Friends, I have never been so wrong! The evening started out as it usually does with speeches before an opening movie. This year instead of the opening film, we saw a notice. The film and Publication board had chosen that morning to ban the movie ‘Of Good Report’ for its depiction of child pornography. I tell you, it took me a good few minutes to realise what just happened. What had happened was that I was ill prepared for this kind of twist in the plot and I spent the next hour typing a page one lead on my blackberry. So it is safe to say I learned many things that night and the most important was: “NEVER BE UNPREPARED”!

The opening party.

We could go back and forth on our thoughts on banning and artistic rights but this is not the forum (although you are welcome to read any of my articles on the subject). The opening night for me was an opportunity to do some real journalism and I learned so much. I was lucky enough to meet the Jahmil Qubeka, the director, and speak to him about his film at the after party. The after party, by the way, which I decided to attend after having to write a sudden page one lead ON MY BLACKBERRY! I tried to get drunk. I must say though that the after party lived up to its usual splendor. There was the nomadic tent on the lawn of Suncoast Casino, a Latino band, yummy food and plenty of free drinks – but alas I went home sober - probably because my nerves had been shot.

The festival was a bit of a disappointment for me. My favorite part of DIFF is spending my days watching wonderful films. There were endless problems with formats and film classifications. On one particular day I went to watch four movies, but could only see one because of the aforementioned problems. I had to watch ‘World War Z’ instead of one ‘Spring Breakers’ and straight afterwards I went in to watch ‘Zombie Land’ only for that to be replaced by ‘World War Z’. I was in no mood for that! “Ain’t nobody got time for that”, as Divine Brown would say.

At the Closing party.

Fresh pizza at the Closing party.

The closing of DIFF was a wonderful day. I had been given some VIP tickets to Taste of Durban thanks to Vida e Caffee, which was held on the grounds of Suncoast. So I got to fill up on the most amazingly yummy foods and Champaign and wines and chocolates and snacks before heading into the movie theatre. I met my friend and colleague there, which turned out to be lucky for me because DIFF announced the unbanning of ‘Of Good Report’, so I would need to stay over to cover the film the following day. Once again I was unprepared, this time because of my lack of a change of clothes and a toothbrush.

The award speeches were rather long and unprepared but the evening ended wonderfully with a party at The Blue Waters Hotel. We spent the night eating handmade pizzas, listening to music and enjoying good conversation.

The Good Food and Wine show.

I was up early the following morning to watch an amazing film by Qubeka. I got to put DIFF to bed with an amazing sense of accomplishment having learned so many life lessons (I now keep a spare toothbrush in my car).

With director Jahmil Qubeka before the opening of his film 'Of Good Report'. Can you tell I haven't slept?

There are just a few points I want to make – mostly because I am a bitch. If DIFF had put their selected movies through to the Film and Publications Board to be reviewed earlier, then the banning and unbanning debacle could all have happened before the festival took place. Although we would have record of it going through this process, we would not have had the drama of the opening night. The fiasco did encourage a lot of conversation about banning laws in South Africa, and I know that the performance by the director was preplanned (the taping of the mouth and ripping up of the ID book –which was actually his wife’s temp passport). I wonder perhaps if DIFF has changed from its original purpose of showcasing art, to becoming a public mouthpiece. Not that I object to that at all. I would perhaps like a little warning because I went to DIFF to celebrate art, not to discuss my right to celebrate art. But what the banning did do was make the festival world – renowned and give a young director a wonderful platform for his next big creation – and well deserved I’d say.

My review as it appeared in The Witness Newspaper.