By OMOSEYE BOLAJI
The weather was barmy and erratic on this particular day in Bloemfontein city in South Africa as what should have been a rather hot summer day turned out to be quite cold and withering. But life must go on. I was doing a little shopping inside one of South Africa’s major supermarkets.
At the counter, as I was about to pay for items purchased, the lady cashier suddenly smiled, beaming: “Hi Ntate (Mr) Bolaji! Hi!!” she said. I winced a bit, as I could not easily recognise her, one of my bad habits! My first impression was that she had seen my photo in a local newspaper or magazine, or in one of my books.“Don’t you remember me? I am Lerato,” she went on, a bit disappointed.
She explained loudly, to other ladies working in the supermarket. “This is the man who wrote the play, Joo, Letla Shwa- Letla Botswa, which we acted in Ladybrand (town). Ntate Bolaji, the playwright. Remember you once travelled to Ladybrand to watch us on stage?”I nodded. She went on: “Mr Pule Lechesa introduced you to us (the actors) then. You were discussing which version of your play you preferred; the play being acted in English, or in Sesotho (South African) language. But we were then acting the play from the Sesotho translation. I acted the part of Violet, the young lady.”
I remembered now. The name of my play, originally written and published in English, was The Subtle Transgressor. Pule Lechesa (above) was the brilliant South African writer who translated the play into the Sesotho language as Joo, Letla Shwa- Letla Botswa. His translation had been something of a bestseller, and he also ensured that it was on stage in his hometown, Ladybrand.
Now in the supermarket, the young lady, Lerato asked me the last time I had seen Pule Lechesa. I tried to answer her quickly, but I was a bit embarrassed now as a few people were behind me on the small queue who wanted to pay for their goods too. I moved sideways, picked up my big plastic bag containing what I had bought and smiled at the lady. “It’s been nice meeting you again,” I said. Meanwhile, one of the nearby ladies there added in a friendly fashion: “I know you write books, but I did not know you also wrote plays," Lerato said: “He’s a modest man; he’s a great playwright!”
Now I really felt embarrassed. It is a pity really how many people use descriptions sloppily, even flippantly; though ignorance might be a mitigating factor for this. Coming from Nigeria, I would never describe myself as a distinguished playwright, considering the world class playwrights Nigeria has produced over the decades. Illustrious playwrights like JP Clark, Wole Soyinka, Zulu Sofola, Laolu Ogunniyi, Ola Rotimi, to mention but a few.
Over the years, my firm favourite among Nigerian playwrights had always been Ola Rotimi, though. Maybe because at a very tender age we had to study his play Kurunmi in school of which many of us knew many parts of it by heart as kids. I did read many of Wole Soyinka’s plays too; but later on I was to admire the Nigerian female playwright, Zulu Sofola indeed!
And of course, in nearby Ghana, Ama Ata Aidoo and Efua T. Sutherland have been remarkable female playwrights too. Aidoo’s The Dilemma of a Ghost used to fascinate me. The late Efua Sutherland was a genius as regards the theatre, and whilst at school we had to read her funny play, The marriage of Anansewa too.
But I suppose I have to admit that in my own small way, I am a playwright too.
