This article first appeared in THE WEEKENDER

3rd May 2008

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Lara Foot Newton is an optimist. The plays that she has written all demonstrate a belief in the possibility of redemption – or, at least, the redemptive power of theatre – in the midst of socio-political and personal milieus that constantly offer reasons to be pessimistic.

In Tshepang (2003), she re-imagined the desperate, poverty-stricken lives of those involved in one of South Africa’s perverse infant rape cases, but was able to make a minimal gesture of comfort to the mother of the child. In Hear and Now (2005), she portrayed the fraught relationship between a longsuffering woman and a physically and emotionally crippled man, but nevertheless affirmed the value of that relationship. In Reach (2007), she depicted a transformation from racial mistrust, loneliness, bitterness and even suicidal despair into companionship and encouragement through the growing friendship between a young black man and an ageing white woman.

Karoo Moose, which premiered in Cape Town last year and is currently running at the Market Theatre in Johannesburg, seems to follow this pattern. It does so with compassion, humour, imaginative largesse and a dynamic cast that makes watching this play a truly invigorating experience.

The story, based on an anecdote Foot Newton heard some years ago about the appearance of a moose near an isolated village in the Eastern Cape, centres on the travails of Thozama (played by Chuma Sopotela), a teenage girl confronting the limitations placed on her freedom by patriarchal oppression on the one hand and the legacy of apartheid on the other.

Thozama’s father, Jonas (Mfundo Tshazibane), is “a man without a shadow”: emasculated and eviscerated, like so many, by South Africa’s alienating social structures. Unemployed, he spends his days waiting for a compensation payout; inevitably, he has turned to alcohol to obliterate both his boredom and his shame. His family goes hungry while he gets himself into gambling debts with Kola (Thami Mbongo), the villain of the piece – although even Kola is not entirely unforgivable: we are reminded that he, too, was once a hungry and scared child. When Jonas is unable to pay up, Kola demands “payment” in the form of Thozama. She is raped and falls pregnant; once she has had the baby, Kola continues to threaten her and her family.

So, you’re wondering, where is the moose in all this? Thozama’s relationship to the moose is ambiguous. In one sense, she seems to identify with it as with a fellow-victim: the villagers, concocting stories about “the evil beast”, are afraid of the moose but also persecute it and, one day, chase after it and try to kill it. They are unable to do so until Thozama, partly as a merciful act and partly because she is filled with rage at her own situation, slits its throat. The moose then becomes not only a much-needed source of food for Thozama and her family, but also fills her with a kind of talismanic might – as if, in an act of ritual slaughter, its spirit and strength have been transferred to her.

The moose is signified on stage with large, horn-shaped dried branches, while its movements are evoked through the enigmatic dancing of Mdu Kweyama. Drumming, traditional instrumentation and ensemble singing are used to great effect to enhance its mysterious presence. Indeed, throughout the production, the members of the cast supplement the narrative with sound effects and visual cues. Karoo Moose is a sensory feast: Patrick Curtis’s lighting and set designs are rich and colourful (the stage is strewn with thorn-tree branches and modest domestic objects), while the costumes and props designed by Koos Marais and Henning Ludeke are also worth mentioning.

These props are put to a range of uses, particularly the soccer ball and net that – because of the sport’s strong association with masculinity in South Africa – carry multiple resonances (it is over a soccer match that Jonas’s final failed bet is made). In a violently disturbing scene, Kola “rapes” Thozama by draping her in the net and repeatedly kicking the ball at her. When Thozama is arrested for killing the moose, the net forms the bars to her prison cell; later, Kola uses it to trap her during their final confrontation.

Another simple but effective prop indicates the parallel household scenes in which the play is set: a rotating table top that represents the kitchens of Thozama’s family and the Van Wyks respectively. The Van Wyks, a white Afrikaans family for whom Thozama’s mother Grace (Zoleka Helesi) works, also bear the burden of a family tragedy caused by a broken father figure. Mr Van Wyk abused his daughter and she hanged herself, leaving behind a grieving mother and brother (Bongile Mantsai).

The brother, now a policeman, develops a relationship with Thozama and becomes her protector. Eventually, he also provides her with “a way out” of the social problems that appear endemic to her village – he repairs a broken-down truck and teaches her to drive it, so that she can leave for somewhere better.

Although this ending, catalysed by the appearance of the moose, is consistent with Foot Newton’s assertion that “the children in the village needed some kind of magical event to free them from abuse, neglect and poverty ... to break the cycle of violence”, it is open to criticism on various grounds. Thozama’s happy ending is only possible within the realm of improbable fiction: in real-life, everyday South Africa, most girls like her do not escape. It is even less likely that they will “ride off into the sunset” with white Afrikaans men. Isn’t this a sentimental image of reconciliation? Or, worse, does it suggest that the initiative for social change does not lie within black communities?

Karoo Moose precludes these critiques, however, because it frequently reminds the audience that the narrators are self-conscious about their narrative. The story is personified: we are warned at the beginning that “stories are funny things,” and towards the end of the play, before it reaches its denouement, we hear that the story is “contemplating its outcome”.

At the performance I attended, these subtleties were lost on a group of schoolgirls about Thozama’s age, who weren’t willing or able to distinguish between the light-hearted aspects of Karoo Moose (for it is, at times, a very funny production) and the serious, even tragic, elements. And, as I left the theatre, it seemed to me extremely sad that Thozama’s salvation is confined to a mythical and “magical realist” playworld – reality remains unredeemed.