From Litnet
Stemme | Voices | Amazwi is LitNet’s series of 15 short, powerful monologues, written by established and upcoming playwrights, presented in collaboration with Suidoosterfees, NATi and ATKV.
In Siphokazi Jonas’ Mkhuseli, a fallen star whose memory was wiped when it fell to earth, stands guard at a shoreline to save the spirits of the drowned. Peggy Mongoato performs the monologue, directed by Qondiswa James. Watch the performance in isiXhosa with English subtitles here:
In this video, Peggy Mongoato and director Qondiswa James discuss their approach to Siphokazi’s monologue text.
The original text in isiXhosa:
Mkhuseli
A figure standing on the shore looking out to the water. It is a star who was sent to earth centuries ago to guard the shoreline and prevent mysterious drownings. The people of the place would hear a voice calling them into the water and walk in, never to return. The star takes on different human forms to avoid detection, and its memory was wiped before reaching earth so it would not yearn for home. Lately it has been hearing the same voice calling and remembering fragments of its history.
“Who shut up the sea behind doors
when it burst forth from the womb,
when I made the clouds its garment
and wrapped it in thick darkness,
when I fixed limits for it
and set its doors and bars in place
when I said, ‘This far you may come and no farther;
here is where your proud waves halt’?
“Sondela emanzini.”
Libiza mna? Baninzi abahambi kufutshane nolwandle kodwa abeva nto. Ubomi buyaqhubeka. Xa ubizo lufika kuwe wedwa, ingaba lolwakho kuphela? Kudala ndime kule ndawo, ndityale iinyawo nengcinga kulomhlaba; ulikhaya kum ngoku. Ndisabele? Ngeentsuku zengqele, ndigrumba umngxunya, ndambathe isanti okwengubo esindayo. Maxa ligqatsa ilanga ndiye nditshonele ngasezantsi, kuvele intloko kuphela. Ayina mthunzi le indawo, kwinzingo zelixeshana, umqolo ungaphandle. Ndingummi wale ndawo, olunxweme. Ndithuthuzelwa ngumngeni ondibeke kule ndawo, umkhuseli wolunxweme. Ndikubona konke okwenzekayo – abafikayo, abangabuyiyo. Ndimi phakathi kwamaza nobomi. Inyawo zabo ziphaphatheka nomoya. Inyama yabemi beli iyonakala, bonzakala kukuhamba kwexesha, Amagama, iimbali, iimbuso, konke kumka nomoya, ndikhumbula konke okwenzeka kule ndawo, abo bandibonileyo bona bayandilibala lakutshona ilanga kuvuke inyanga.
“Sondela emanzini.”
Ndisabele? Ukusabela kukufa. Iphinde yandindwendwela imibono. Izingceba, ndizama ukuzicalucalula ndidibanise apha, ndidibanise phaya, kodwa kumfiliba. Mhla kuzala inyanga iphelela, iphezu kwentloko yam, kuduka namafu, ubusuku bufana nemini, kumnyama kumhlophe, ndiye ndiphinde ndibabone. Olu lwandle iba sisipili sam, ezinzulwini ndiye ndikhulule ubuntu kuvele umoya, ndiphande izinto zakudala endazilibalayo. Mhla ndivuka kolu nxweme, ndingenamzimba ndavuka ndingenankumbulo. Ndayiqokelela isanti ndayibumba, ndayenza umzimba, ndazakhela owam. Babuyile aba babini. Indoda nomfazi. Andibazi, kodwa ndiqinisekile baziwa ngumphefumlo. Xa ndibabona ngeliso lengcinga umlomo uyazivulekela, liyatyhudisa ilizwi liphuma kwimiphunga, ngomqala, liyazityekeza phezu kwamaza.
“Mama!”
“Tata!”
“Niphi?”
Andilazi eli thafa bakulo. Bancumelene. Abandihoyi. Ndiphi mna? Andiziboni kweli thafa kodwa ndiyayazi ndikhona phakathi kwabo, lo mbono uyanditshutshisa. Ndingawuthemba? Ndiqathwa lithemba? Bancumile, kodwa bayandishiya. Bancuma njani bendishiya?
“Mama!”
“Tata!”
“Ndilindeni, ndiyeza!”
“Mama!”
“Tata!”
Shwaka, ukukhanya! Amafu osula lo mbono, agquma ubuso benyanga, angcolisa isibhakbhaka angqimbilili, abiza umoya, kukho umsindo emanzini.
Ukufika kwam, ndazinika igama. Abantu bale ndawo babizana ngamagama, kwiilwimi ngeelwimi. Onegama uyasabela. Inyani yona, ayinamsebenzi, ndiphila ngeentsomi ukuhambisa amakhulu eminyaka ndilapha. Qashi, qashi, qashi, qashi, ndizalwa ngubani? Ngunonkala ohamba ngecala? Ziintaka ezigcwalisa isibhakabhaka? Emlonyeni wentlanzi enkulu, etica kolunxweme? Okanye ndifike ngamaza nemimoya ebhudlayo?
Mna ndithi ndizelwe yinyanga nelanga. Kwathi ke kaloku ngantsomi, ngobusuku obungaziwayo, kwinyanga yeSilimela suka ndavela kwisibhakabhaka. Oodade bam abasixhenxe, abazinkwenkwezi bekhona, bebukele, bendilindile. Andinalo igama kulentsomi, ndizithiya amagama amabini ndinguNyana, unyana wenyanga. Ndiphinde ndizibize uNtombi. Intombi yelanga. Nabaya oodade bam bexhonywe phezulu! uMaia, uElectra, uTaygete, uCelaeno, uAlcyone, uSterope, noMerope. Bavela xa ndibabiza, bekhatshwa yimvula. Xa ndizicingela, nam ndandiphakathi kweenkwenkwezi. Ubuso bam bufana nobenyanga …
“Sondela emanzini!”
“Mama!”
“Tata!”
“Ndilindeni, ndiyeza!”
Bandishiyele ntoni na? uNyana akalahlekanga ulahliwe. Kodwa ndiyakulinda, hleze badlule ngale ndlela kwakhona. Ndakuma kule ndawo mna Mkhuseli, ulwandle lungadluli apha. Abantu besisixeko, nabo bangadluli apha.
“Sondela emanzini.”
Ndikhetha uloyiko njengomhlobo wam. Ubunzulu bokungazi, nokungazazi, nokungaziwa buyandigubungela. Kubhalwe ntoni kule ncwadi imtyuba? Umzi owakhiwa phezu kwesanti uhamba nemimoya. Lo mzimba ngumzi wam. Ulilitye. Phakathi kwezulu nomhlaba.
“Sondela emanzini.”
An English translation of the text:
Mkhuseli
Who shut up the sea behind doors
when it burst forth from the womb,
when I made the clouds its garment
and wrapped it in thick darkness,
when I fixed limits for it
and set its doors and bars in place,
when I said, “This far you may come and no farther;
here is where your proud waves halt”?
“Come closer to the water.”
Is it calling me? There are many travellers near the sea, but they do not hear anything. Life goes on. When a calling comes to you alone, is it only for you? I have long stood in this place, planting feet and thought in this earth; you are my home, now. Must I respond? On cold days, I dig a hole and cover myself with the sand like a heavy blanket. When the sun gets hot, I tend to sink to the bottom, and only my head appears. This place does not have shade; in the moment of trouble, I am exposed. I am a citizen of this place, this coastal area. I am comforted by the challenge that has put me in this position as the coast protector. I see it all happen – newcomers, and the ones who never come back. I stand between the waves and life. Their feet blown in the wind. The flesh of the people of this country is perishing, damaged by the passage of time. Names, histories, kingdoms – all goes with the wind. I remember everything that happens in this place; those who see me forget me when the sun goes down and the moon rises.
“Come closer to the water.”
Must I respond? The reaction is death. Visions visit me again. It is pieces; I’m trying to sort them out here, put them together, but it’s not clear. When the moon is full, and it is over my head, the clouds are gone, the night is like day, dark and white, I see them again. This sea becomes my mirror; in the depths, I release my personality and become spiritual, exploring the old things I have forgotten. When I wake up on this beach, I have no body, and I wake up with no memory. I collect sand and mould it, make it into a body, and make my own. Two people come back. Husband and wife. I do not know them, but I am sure they are known by my soul. When I see them in my mind’s eye, my mouth opens; my voice comes out of my lungs, down the throat, and rolls over the waves.
“My mother! My father! Where are you?”
I do not know this forest they are in. They are smiling at each other. They are ignoring me. Where am I? I do not see myself in this forest, but I know I am in their midst; this vision haunts me. Can I trust it? Am I being fooled by faith? They are smiling, but they are leaving me alone. How are they smiling but leaving me?
“My mother! My father! Wait for me, I am coming! My mother! My father!”
Light disappears! Clouds that obscure the view, cover the face of the moon, darken the sky, call for air, and there is a noise in the water.
When I arrived, I gave myself a name. The local people call each other with names, in different languages. The one with names responds. The truth is, it doesn’t matter; I live by myths to pass hundreds of years here. Guess, guess, guess, guess whom I was born to? Is the crab walking sideways? Are the birds filling the sky? In the mouth of a big fish, landing on the shore? Or did I come with the waves and storms?
I say I was born of the moon and the sun. Once upon a time, on a strange night, in the month of June, I suddenly appeared in the sky. My seven sisters, who are the stars, were there watching and waiting for me. I have no name in this myth. I give myself two names: I am Son, the Son of the Moon. I also call myself Maiden – the Maiden of the Sun. And those sisters of mine hanging up there! Maia, Electra, Taygete, Celaeno, Alcyone, Sterope and Merope. They appear when I call them, accompanied by rain. When I think about it, I am also among the stars. My face is like the moon.
“Come closer to the water.”
“My mother! My father! Wait for me, I am coming!”
Why have they left me? The Son is not lost; he is abandoned. But I’ll wait, lest they pass this way again. When I stand in this place, I am the Protector; the sea does not pass here. The people of the city, too, do not pass by.
“Come closer to the water.”
I prefer fear as my friend. The depths of ignorance, ignoring myself and being ignored overshadow me. What is written in this salty book? A city built on sand is carried away by winds. This body is my home. It is a stone between heaven and earth.
“Come closer to the water.”
Stemme | Voices | Amazwi is supported by the National Arts Council.
Stemme | Voices | Amazwi is a New Writing project of LitNet and is supported by the LW Hiemstra Trust.
All the monologues are available here:
Siphokazi Jonas 