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INKANYAMBA

by Sisonkepapu


for Siphiwokuhle Papu & Hypo Magazi: nantsi ke leway


(This piece was published on the 28th of September, 2018)

A portrait of Sisonkepapu, darkroom
A portrait of the author. Photo by Shayla Tricam

the mthatha sun was at its meanest as if foretelling an omen. the day went by and amajita were sitting under shades of trees than hustle ngaseshop. the scavenging dogs that roam the streets of this place where nowhere in sight.


the couch was embellished with red and green chrismas lights that blinked in the dark room. a tungsten light was embedded behind the couch facing upwards and formed a harsh shadow on the wall behind it. to diffuse the intensity of this light, we placed an led light three meters in front of the couch with blinking chrismas lights. the walls were an ashen green that we could not manage to clean but concluded would add a grunge aesthetic feel. i stood behind the tripod trying to configure the camera settings.


“okay braz nantsi into ezokwenzeka,” i said.


before the first take, the light that entered through the broken window distorted the effect of the two-point light system we designed. i took two plastic bags zakwamaspala and sellotaped them to the window and blocked out the light.


“okay siyaqala ngoku.”


the camera rolled and Hypo was sitting on the couch and the red and green lights blinked around him like an energy field. an array of balloons floated about in the room and at my signal a homemade smoke gas was diffused.


a raging current of wind from outside penetrated through the spaces of the window that iplastic wasn’t able to cover. we cut.


“kufuneka ifakwe ngaphandle lewey.” i beckoned my younger brother to follow me outside so we may plaster the window. we got outside and the air was cooler now.


“yemabraz yintoni le yenzekayo?” asked one of the guys sitting outside.


we stepped on the broken stop-nonsense slabs piled up below the window and sellotaped the plastic bags. i felt a raindrop on my skin. and then another. the intensity of each drop felt like a sting on my back.


“masikhawulezise mfethu iyatshintsa leweather”


amahambanamvula started descending on the ground in a rapid succession that we abandoned the plastic bag waving on the window like the tattered POSTASA flags in all the schools in New Payne.


we quickly gathered inside. Jozayne, who had allowed us to use his car for one of the scenes in the music video, lifted his huge body from the ground and rushed into his car. others followed. others joined us in the room we were filming in. the sky turned grey and all light of day was enshrouded by a vague darkness. amahambanamvula still fell fiercely on the ground, on the cars, they fell hard on the old buses and those who were loitering outside.


another gale whizzed through the spaces between iplastic yakwamaspala and the broken window. we all gathered in one room thinking that isichotho would pass soon. it didn’t. the rain turned turbulent and the wind howled and the succession of amahambanamvula that were as big as a baby fist made gqogqogqogqogqo noises on the roof of the dark room we’d been gathered in.


“yey! kuyanyiwa braz!”


“hayi, imvula ayiweli phantsi,” another voice crept out amongst the noise.

a thick white fog started to form and covered the entire New Payne. we could not see anything beyond the point of the room we were all cramped in. this fog had a menacing stillness that raised amanwele wam.


a great creature surfaced from Mthatha dam searching for its mate. it travelled in a huge whirlwind accompanied by rain across the sky. inkanyamba travelled across the sky and the still whiteness caused by the rapid succession of amahambanamvula turned into a dark fog as inkanyamba was now flying above New Payne. on its path to Coffee Bay, the deranged beast left countless deaths between Libode and Vidgiesville. it tore the roofs of houses from the rafters and pulled out entire trees and powerlines from the ground. some trees that were lined by the N2 road passing New Payne, inkanyamba pulled out and smashed the cars on the road. zinc roofs went about flying like old plastic bags dangling in the wind. the children who went to play in the streets were cut in half or on the neck or arm or leg by the shiny zincs that flew about. the zincs that didn’t cut people where scattered all over New Payne; some hung on powerlines that refused to fall, on the road, on the plains, while some still hung on walls like creased paper. all the while the roof of the old abandoned house we were filming in drummed against the wall and threatened to break the bracing wire that binds the rafters and the walls together.


a huge shadow hovered above the house and through the broken window we saw an enormous steaming reptilian hand with fur trying to lift the roof and a gale force burst inside through the smashed windows of the house. we stood frozen like corpses in one corner of the room as the rain and wind entered this entire place from all directions. we tried to secure the filming equipment with our dead bodies but inkanyamba, or the wind, or people crying outside these walls, or houses collapsing, or cars crashing at a distance, made a screeching and grumbling sound that made all of us keep our eyes and ears shut


Sisonkepapu is a multi-dimensional conduit that explores storytelling through writing, photography, film and conceptualisation. His work explores spatial and emotional temporalities by interrogating/ engaging ideas of everydayness, the real and imaginary, dreams, the unseen, as well as the sonic, mythical and cosmic. Sisonkepapu is the founder and director of ISPILI Network, living and working between Mthatha, Rhini neBhayi.

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