My Life as a Furry Red Monster - Kevin Clash [63]
When it came time to choose the person to play the South African Elmo Neno, we narrowed the choice to four candidates who represented the broad spectrum of racial and ethnic groups in South Africa. Over time, it became clear who the best candidate was. Without a moment’s thought about its possible implications, the all-black South African production company and I agreed that a white South African, Damian Berry, a young man who spoke no native languages besides his own Afrikaans, was the best fit. We all looked at each other and thought, That’s interesting. Then we moved on to the next task on our list. We knew we’d hired the right person.
One day we traveled to a school outside of Johannesburg to perform. The city itself had impressed me; everything was so clean and orderly. But as we headed for the outskirts, I was reminded of many of the poorer urban neighborhoods in American big cities, and then I saw shantytowns unlike anything I’d ever seen except in photographs. Despite the poverty, though, no matter where we were, people waved and smiled. The entire black population seemed to be locked in permanent celebration mode. It seemed entirely fitting that the South African production was named Takalani Sesame. Takalani means “be happy” in the Venda language, and that spirit infused the country.
The countryside was starkly beautiful, with its reddish-orange soil and scrub trees. Eventually the regular road turned to a dusty track, and all along the way as we approached our destination, we saw young children ranging in age from what looked to be five to teens walking along the shoulder. They’d wave and trot after us for a few seconds. The school we were heading for was located on a farm, actually a large estate covering hundreds of miles, which employed the families of many of these children.
The estate was owned and operated by a very old and wealthy white South African family named Bailey whose wealth, we eventually learned, had partially been earned in the gold mining industry. Contrary to what we expected of a family with a background like that, the Baileys were a very progressive left-wing clan of activists who helped end apartheid. Jim Bailey, the patriarch, had a long history of activism and was a major supporter of the arts. He cofounded the influential Drum magazine in 1951, becoming one of the first South Africans to publish black writers. He’d even visited New York during the Harlem Renaissance, touring the area with the acclaimed poet Langston Hughes. This trip was proving to be full of surprises.
A number of black families lived on the hundreds of sprawling acres of the estate, call Leeuwenkloof Farm. It was still a working agricultural operation, but the primary school was the center of most of the activity. The residents sent their kids to the school, and all those children we’d seen walking along the road were students as well, many of them walking two hours each way to take advantage of the wonderful opportunity to receive a quality education.
None of the children had ever heard of or seen Elmo. Most had never seen a puppet before, so it took a long time for me to get the younger ones to interact with him. In a lot of ways, those kids were like timid cats. They’d sit back on their haunches, looking at Elmo, and then they’d come forward slightly to rest on all fours to get a closer look. As soon as I moved Elmo, they retreated. Sometimes I would take Elmo off, set him aside, and just talk with the kids as myself. Once they got used to me, I’d put Elmo back on and he’d quietly talk to them. I