What a Send-Off! Fugard’s My Children! My Africa! Ignites Daytime Full Houses at State Theatre
It’s a bright afternoon in Pretoria, but inside the Opera Theatre at the South African State Theatre, it feels like the sun itself has taken a seat among us — burning, watchful, unblinking. Not a single chair is vacant. The echoes of eager voices fill the air. The matinee performance of My Children! My Africa! has drawn yet another full house, and the excitement is palpable.
Theatre, it appears, is very much alive.
There’s something extra poignant about the atmosphere. Just recently, South Africa bid farewell to its greatest playwright, Athol Fugard, who passed away at the age of 92. And what a way to send him off. Here, in the largest theatre complex in Africa, his words reverberate as strongly as ever etched into the maroon classroom set, echoed in the actors’ voices, alive in every clap and cheer.
Fugard — wherever he may be — must surely be smiling. His words, written decades ago against the backdrop of apartheid’s cruelty, reverberate today with sharp relevance. And what a production it is! The maroon classroom set — a simple chalkboard, rows of desks, tall windows—becomes the fertile ground where stories of resistance, education, and fractured friendships bloom.
On stage, three powerhouse performers weave magic: Penny Wolhuter as Isabel, the spirited white student from across town; Olly Zondi as Thami Mbikwana, the bright yet restless black student; and Madla Gadika as Mr. M, the impassioned, hopeful teacher. Their diction? Impeccable. Their energy? Electric. Their chemistry? Undeniable.
From the first monologue, audiences cheer, clap, and even comment aloud. It’s not passive viewing — it’s a conversation. The actor-audience relationship is intimate, fluid, and alive. You can almost feel Fugard’s intention: breaking barriers between performer and spectator, forcing us to reflect.
Director Mr. Sekhabi’s vision shines throughout, brilliantly supported by Assistant Director Bongani Bennedict Masango. Especially remarkable is Olly Zondi’s Thami—it’s his first time on stage, yet he delivers a seasoned, magnetic performance. Bravo! It’s a testament to the wealth of untapped talent in South Africa and Sekhabi’s sharp artistic eye.
Adding to the richness, Loyiso Ndaba steps in with seamless dexterity, performing both Mr. M and Thami Mbikwana when required, highlighting the flexibility and depth of this production's ensemble.
The technical brilliance is equally worth celebrating. Stage movements are fluid yet precise, offering visual variations that captivate. The lighting design is particularly striking: at times, isolating Isabel in a tight follow-spot; at others, casting poetic shadows across the stage. Projections transport us from mountain ranges to sprawling township shacks made of zinc and cardboard, evoking the peripheral spaces of South African life.
Black-and-white historical images loom across three backdrops — a train station, a church, and a railway — grounding us firmly in apartheid’s harsh reality. Yet, as the narrative builds, we’re reminded just how close those days still linger.
One of the show’s most piercing moments arrives during Thami’s monologue, where he speaks of Africa’s perpetual dependence on Western saviours — a chilling reflection of today’s socio-political landscape. References to figures like Donald Trump and Elon Musk feel uncomfortably familiar. Fugard’s text resonates not just as history, but as prophecy.
After a brisk ten-minute interval, the tension escalates. Violence brews. Ideological rifts widen. Yet the actors' command of stillness — moments of silence, tension, breath — magnifies the impact. Scene after scene closes to thunderous applause, heartfelt cheers, and spontaneous shouts of approval. The 1327-seat theatre — the largest in Africa — feels like a single heartbeat.
And then comes the bow: a standing ovation, the audience singing, clapping, some even dancing to Thina Lomhlaba Siwugezi as they exit. It feels celebratory, communal, a collective tribute not just to the actors, but to Fugard himself — a final, roaring farewell.
What strikes me most is how seamlessly this production bridges past and present. Fugard’s questions about inequality, power, race, and youth unrest linger not as relics, but as reflections of today’s struggles. The classroom debates of Thami and Isabel mirror the national conversations still unfolding outside the theatre walls.
My Children! My Africa! reminds us that theatre isn’t merely entertainment — it’s education, activism, and healing. And in the capable hands of this cast and creative team, it’s alive, urgent, and unmissable.
Day after day, matinee after matinee, the State Theatre fills, proving one thing without a doubt: theatre is not dying; it’s roaring, full-throated and necessary.
And what a way to honour Athol Fugard — a full house, standing ovations, and voices still wrestling with the very questions he dared us to ask.
* Bongani Nicholas Ngomane: PhD Candidate | University of the Witwatersrand Theatre Practitioner | Researcher | Dramaturge
