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Theatre, music & beyond: A chat with Tankiso


The radiant muso, Tankiso. Photo by Justin Munitz from Headshots Cape Town

CAPE TOWN: We recently had a chat with Cape Town-based, EC-born musician, writer and composer Tankiso Mamabolo. Tankiso has performed in Black Dog/injemnyama, The Fall, a critically acclaimed production which won an an Encore Award at the Fleur du Cap Awards.


How has this year been for you and your career?


2019 has been a very difficult but rewarding year for my career. I’ve experienced many ups and downs with regard to the complexities that come with choosing to be an artist in a country that does not do much for its artists. It’s also been the year of me coming to myself and beginning to make many important decisions about my future and the legacy I want to leave behind. The rest of 2019 is looking very promising and fulfilling.


In one TV interview you mention the “real me” in reference to your work. Which begs the question, who is the real Tankiso? Usuka phi, usiphathele ntoni, esiya phi?


Well, the real Tankiso was born in a small town called Matatiele in the Eastern Cape and grew up in Mthatha. I’m a passionate, emotional and often messy human being who has found language and expression in my art and that is how I keep everything I feel regulated and understood. My plan is to have everyone in South Africa know my name by the time I’m finished with my art.


With all your experiences accumulated growing up, which ones do you think make your writing/creative process a lot more richer?


A lot of my music alludes to pain and a coming of age. As a child I was always able to live in the moment when things were happy but I’ve always struggled to express pain, and music and theatre have helped me understand the human condition so much better because that’s when I’m my most honest. The pain I saw and experienced as a child influences my writing a lot as well as being around my family who were always finding reasons to bring the keyboard out and sing. They were storytellers and they taught me how to be one.


You once described your mother as a “phenomenal singer”, besides her singing, what other trait(s) do you think you inherited from her?


I’m basically the younger, slightly more disorganized version of my mother. I inherited her sense of humour, her outspokenness but mostly her compassion. I approach every situation with kindness and I always try to give people the benefit of the doubt because I watched her do it. I’m also very stubborn and sometimes introverted which are traits I also got from her.


How did your family react to your participation in the student movement?


To be honest, most of them were not very surprised. I come from a long line of warriors who have never been afraid to speak truth to power. They were just concerned for my well-being and my performance in school but they were quite supportive.


You described elsewhere that the writing process of The Fall as “therapeutic”. Can you comment on the emancipatory possibilities (if any) of theatre and its role (ideally) in facilitating healing amongst black people and all oppressed/marginalised communities.


A lot of the time, because of how constant and unrelenting our trauma is as black people, we don’t have a chance to take a breath, understand and heal from what has happened to us. Theatre gives people the space and the vocabulary to reach into their subconscious and confront feelings that they may have not even known are there. Especially when you are creating your own work. The ability to portray someone else gives you the opportunity to step outside of yourself and approach problems from a different person’s perspective. This is why I think learning drama should not just be for children who want to pursue acting one day; it should be for everyone.


Photo by Oscar O’ryan

As a creative/muso who took part in the radical student movements since 2015, how would you describe the centrality of ‘song’ in student politics in particular, and liberation politics in general?


I think the use of music in the movement was multifaceted. It became whatever you needed it to be at any particular moment. If you were hurt and felt like giving up, music helped uplift you. If you felt alone and like you didn’t belong, the music made you feel like you belonged to a group of people who understood exactly what you were going through. Music was often the glue that held us all together and I think one of the most effective ways we communicated was that we were on the same page about what needed to be done.





In your own words, how would you describe the poetics of theatre?


I’m not quite sure I’m answering this correctly but for me, the poetics of theatre are how it’s never one thing. Our speech, our music, our cultures, the way we choose which stories to tell, the opinions we express all come together to form this thing we call theatre.


With the rich musical legacy in/of the Eastern Cape, what would you like to be your contribution towards such a rich musical archive?


There aren’t many seSotho speaking well-known musicians from the Eastern Cape. We exist and I want to make sure everyone knows how diverse and rich the Eastern Cape is. I want to add new conversations to our musical literature.


Can you share with us your favourite black woman playwrights out there and what you admire the most about them.


My favourite black women creatives (I choose to say this because the opportunities black women get to have their work seen and appreciated are still very few and because my faves go beyond theatre ). To me these women are:


Any Jephter

Nwabisa Plaatjie

Yonela Makoba

Ameera Conrad

Buhle Ngaba

Kathleen Stephens

Faniswa Yisa

Chuma Sopotela

Lesoko Seabe

The ladies of PAP CULTURE

Thando Mangcu

Zimasa Dyani

The entire female ensemble of the theatre 4th year graduating class at UCT. They are brilliant.

And many more.


Cabral speaks of this idea of “the source”- a proverbial well, a ‘space-place’ of strength. Where and what would you describe as your artistic source?


My artistic sauce is the inevitability of death. I think about how much time I have left on this earth versus all the opportunities, recourses and talents I have and I want to do as much as I can before my time is up. This is not fear but an understanding that we don’t have time to show little faith in ourselves.


Follow Tankiso hier:


IG: t.j_mamabolo

Twitter: @Real_Tankiso

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