Megan's Head

A place where Megan gets off her head.

Ararat

(I wrote this on Thursday but couldn’t get a ararat-publi-boot-1signal in Oudshoorn.)

Down a rocky path lined with standing lamps with shades in pastel satins, to a dusty patch and hay bales to sit on. The view to the mountains far, far away is interrupted only by ostriches and standing still tumble weeds. I already suspect they are hiding things; lights for later, since it is still very sunset light. As we sit and get comfortable, putting blankets on the bales to stop prickles, the sun really starts to set and the moon has risen. We sit in between, in this zone of magic.

And Ararat begins. A voice over. “In die begin was daar niks.” And then, nothing, just us really listening and watching. And then, far, far away, in time to music from weird speaker stacks and beautiful voice over, there are a pair of upside down legs, with red high heels, sticking out of a trough. and then, a man in a black suit starts walking, from even further away.

Later on a man comes out of a hole in the dust. Later on, a kombi; Noah’s ark comes driving in. later on the mermaid is wooed and loved and raped and killed.

This extraordinary production, Ararat, is directors from Holland and a South African cast, Nicola Hanekom, Gaetan Schmidt, David Johnson and Albert Pretorius, who are all totally fantastic. This show is the reason why I came to the festival. Pure magic.

Then, afterwards, we hung out at the venue, just outside town. A couple took over a farm and turned it into a gallery and art garden and labyrinth (made out of green bottles) to create one of the most strange and beautiful spaces ever. Moooi at Jam Street, should you ever pass this way.

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1 Comment

  1. Alfred Rietmann

    Beautyfully written. I read the whole post twice. A

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