My Life as a Furry Red Monster - Kevin Clash [62]
It gave us hope to see these kids being kids again, and in their own way, they were setting an example for the adults around them. Their optimism was a much-needed reminder that life would keep going and that it would get better.
IN 1994, JUST a few years before I would travel to South Africa to audition puppeteers for Takalani Sesame, Nelson Mandela—a man who’d spent nearly three decades of his life in jail and became a symbol of resilience—was elected president of that country in its first truly free democratic election. I’ve already told you about Takalani Sesame and its courageous decision to include the HIV-positive character Kami. The other amazing thing about this trip was that it took place in 1999, not too long after apartheid had been dismantled and the country’s black majority finally had a place at the table.
As an African American—and as the son of a proud black woman and man—I was deeply moved by the changes I saw. We spent most of our time in Johannesburg, where the emerging new reality was evident everywhere, from the vibrant green, black, and yellow banners of the African National Congress (banned for decades, but now with its candidate in the highest office), to signs in English, Afrikaans, Xhosa, Zulu, and a host of other languages proclaiming a new day. One of the many slogans I remember summed it up the best: South Africa, Alive with Possibility.
Our relationship with the South African production company mirrored what was going on in the rest of the country. Kwasukasukela (which, appropriately enough, means “once upon a time” in Zulu), was a partnership between a white-led media company in South Africa and a group of black filmmakers. Until this point in their careers, these black artists had had to work outside the mainstream of white-dominated South African media. Later I learned that many had used their skills for political purposes, documenting the abuses of race and privilege taking place throughout their country. Some of these people had been jailed for their activities, and every one of them considered him- or herself a political activist.
Starting any production from the ground up involves loads of decision making, but the issues we had to deal with in helping to plan Takalani Sesame were staggering. Which of the eleven official languages in the country should the characters speak? Should it be Xhosa, Zulu, Tsonga, Venda, or any of the others? Should the characters speak more than one? Do the puppet characters have an ethnicity?
In the U.S. version of Sesame Street, a monster is a monster and we don’t think of them as having any kind of ethnic equivalent, but given South Africa’s history and the population’s makeup, ethnicity was extremely important. One of the first decisions the producers made was that Zuzu, the purple monster, would be a black South African. And to make a purple monster “black,” we had to discuss what traits besides skin color would clearly identify someone in South Africa as black.
One of the most impressive people I’ve ever met in my life is the executive producer from Kwasukasukela, a woman named Seipati Bulane-Hopa, a black South African for whom English was her fourth language. Because of her background and ability to speak so many languages, she bridged the cultural divide that existed between the South African and American groups as well as within her own company. She was the one who led the discussion of blackness to the conclusion that Zuzu should have two different hairstyles. A lively debate about dreads, cornrows, twists, and Afros ensued.
My main task in going to South Africa was to train and