Mike Loewehe angry young performing artistwho once smoke-bombed the
ofces of the National Arts Festival
newspaper, Cue, in order to get a
reviewer to attend his fringe show,
has returned to Grahamstown inhe somewhat anachronistic posi-
ion of festival director!But that is how the wheel of fatehas turned, and it feels appropriatehat an authentic voice from the
ringe has taken centre stage.
Ismail Mahomed, 48, diligent
and thorough maths and scienceeacher, performing artist extraordi-
naire, is the rst director of colour o head up the 34-year-old festival,a formative institution in shapingSouth African, and lately,international arts.He’s erudite, passionate, prolic,clever, gentle, proud, and a dedi
-cated trooper for the peformers.
He knew from the age of 14 thathis life was in the theatre.But rst the system evicted himand his family from Sophiatownand later from Vrededorp toLenasia, a small, intense, bruisedbut stoic Indian community driven30km out of Joburg by racial ar
-rogance and hatred.The young Mahomed was angry.He watched in 76 as Soweto
burned just beyond the railway
tracks, Wits and Rau accepted him
as a student but the regime wouldnot give him a permit. However,
in his works – by now too many
to count – he has always strivedto “never stop at the level of di
-
dactism, but to always tell stories.It’s about the characters and letting
the audience go on a journey withthe performers…”So, thwarted, he became a teacher
of maths and science – a brilliant
choice it turned out, because by
the time he decided to give thecomfort of a regular pay check andother middle-class conventionsthe old heave-ho and leap into thearts, he had a special skill -
administration.
With the addition of business skills,
an eye for good marketing, andcanny understanding of the power
of collaboration and networking asa weapon in the struggle for excel
-
lence, he has achieved recognition
and success.
And he has been hugely success
-
ful. He was even awarded teacher of the year by the old segregatededucation system, which he nds
somewhat ironic.
Certainly not a party hack,Mahomed’s philosophy leans moretowards cross-over and explorationacross lines of class, race, religion,gender – all the hot frontiers in our
society.
He believes coming from Lenasiahas steeled him for yet another return to the smallness of town,especially this historical town, stilla frontier alive with contradictions,divides, and lately, an ANC assaulton its very name, Grahamstown.It’s way too early for Mahomed tobe blooded by these local feuds,the man is simply looking for a
house to buy. He’s got the bike, a
knobbly dirt machine, bought fromthe local outdoor cycle store, andhe can’t wait to settle down intohis beloved lifestyle of work, work,
work, reading four newspapers aday, cooking, entertaining, and, asstated, more work.He is unmarried, but one gets the
sense that he is absolutely de
-
lighted with life and his new post.
Like many things, he is an abso-
lute festival veteran. It was a tripto fest in 1982, when he brought60 young Indian schoolchildren ona long bus trip to Grahamstown,where his life changed.“For the rst time I witnessed thetransformative nature and power of the arts. My students, who lived ina closeted little community, could,for the rst time, interact with
others from other communities and
worlds. The arts became a conduitfor a whole range of issues which
were barred from discussion by
formal schooling.” A few days after getting back home
he resigned, cashed in his pension
and began his new life by launch
-
ing the Creative Arts Workshop, a
community project in Lenasia.
This company would grow to be
-
come one of the largest independ
-ent theatre companies.
But it needed the oxygen of travel – and so it did, to almost every fes
-
tival available, from Grahamstown,
to KKK, to Durban, a women’s
festival, and later, to Copenhagen,and the USA.Mahomed feels jack about tellingit like it was: “There was a lot of cynicism with people saying ‘Howdoes an Indian expect to survive in
the arts?’ The stereotype was thatan Indian became a merchant or accountant.”There was a sense that his work
would become the vehicle todisprove that, but that was when
he was younger.
As he developed in his career, sodid his creative marketing skills.He brought a whole herd of showsin the big party festival of ’95 – noless than six shows. By the nextyear the gure had ballooned intoa staggering 13 shows!“We booked out Vickies (at VictoriaGirls High) and played to fullhouses every day, every perform
-ance.”Besides writing, producing, direct-
ing and all the rest, he’s also beenon the festival boards in his ownplay, ironically acting as a white
conscript in the apartheid army.
He’s still focused on theatre that“breaks conventions, that is cutting
edge, but it must reach standards
of excellence. I’d like the audienceto walk out feeling challenged,stimulated and that they had value
for their money.”
After attending 23 festivals,
Mahomed is preparing to ease into
the director’s chair as local pillar of
the Grahamstown community and
festival pioneer through very dark
and bright years, Lynette Marais,
prepares to leave it.He is adamant that festival re
-mains “the barometer of the South
African arts community”, andwhile it is a vital income earner for Grahamstown, this is preciselybecause the festival is a “nationalcultural treasure”.He is seemingly utterly unafraid of conservative environments. One
of his successes was turning the
Witbank Civic Theatre around,giving it life for all, regardless of itsold Conservative Party stronghold
history.
His last job, as senior cultural spe
-
cialist in the American Embassy inPretoria was also at a time when American attitudes towards theMuslim world and vice versa wereon tenterhooks. America had justinvaded Iraq, but he describes hisve years there as “stimulating”.“The allowed me to build a bridgeof dialogue between a broad range
of justice institutions in Johannes-burg and the embassy.”
So, if he can win over the locals,can he win over the differentdisciplines within the arts?How about the visual arts? Maho
-
med immediately reverts back tothe festival committee, saying ithas “people who are very strong inthe visual arts”.“I will shape the vision of thisfestival in consultation with the
artists on the committee and
people who have exhibited her inthe past, as well as a whole rangeof stakeholders who have a vestedinterest (in the visual arts).Meanwhile, nothing seems todisplease the man. He loves Gra
-
hamstown, he loves the festival
team he has inherited, he is not
phased by the carnivorous politicalscene, he believes this is good for the arts community!
“When a regime begins to show
aws, this is when the arts com
-
munity becomes most critical andvibrant…”
He’s not phased about criticism
leading to a spiteful withdrawalof funding. Artists are by natureinnovative and will always ndmoney to enable them to make
their work.
The 80s saw the arts playing anextremely critical role, then goinginto a more reconciliatory role in
the mid-90s to now, where there
is a “new wave” of work grapplingwith “succession, accountability
and corruption.Back in the Madiba days artists
were in “a state of euphorbia. Now
we are coming out and saying howdo we assert our identity?”
He’s keen on “art on the left” whichholds a very clear “mirror to our
society”, but he tacks on the notionof bureaucracy, administration and
government.Yet, he’s also keen on the oldbuilding of partnerships withgovernment, and believes thatartists who do not want to play aresponsible role can be behavingin an irresponsible manner.The partnership with governmentneeds to be built on “honesty, trust
and criticism”.
And that smoking incident? Hesays he arrived in the Cue ofces
with a smoke machine, asked a
student where he could plug it in,and was naively shown the socket.Once he had it going, the entirecast of a children’s show starteddemanding their review, and, whenthe smoke had settled, got it. And it was pretty good too.
Smoke Bomber take centre stage at National Arts Festival
he new National Arts Festival Director: Ismail Mahomed Photo: Mike Loewe
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