My Life as a Furry Red Monster - Kevin Clash [64]
On so many levels, this experience had a profound impact on me. It was only after I’d returned to the States that I could really take stock of all that had happened and what it meant to me as a performer and as a person. Obviously, it had been thrilling to be in South Africa. Anytime I travel to a new place, I’m energized, but this was different. Something about this groundbreaking experience snuck up on me after I came home.
I realized the trip had taken me back to the days when I was working with Stu Kerr, doing shows in the Baltimore area. At the conclusion of the performance, he’d have me come out from behind the puppet stage and curtain to take a bow. I’d step out there and I’d hear a few oohs and ahhs of surprise. People had no idea I was black, and that was cool. But when the black audience members saw it was me doing these things, they clapped a little bit harder and their loud shouts of “Great show!” grew more heartfelt and genuine.
I was not and am not a pioneer in any way, but what the people at Kwasukasukela were doing, and what the people of South Africa were doing, was truly revolutionary. The fact that Takalani Sesame got off the ground at the same time that the new South Africa was taking shape made me especially proud.
On another hopeful note, despite the controversy in the U.S. about Takalani Sesame introducing the HIV-positive character Kami (and the fears that the American Sesame Street might do the same), UNICEF appointed Kami a global Champion for Children in November of 2003. Even if one mind closes, thousands of others are opened. By the way, the name “Kami” is derived from a Tswana word for “acceptance.”
CHILDREN ARE ALL about promise and new beginnings, about moving forward and not backward. Kids in places like New Orleans and Johannesburg are like kids everywhere—they represent the possibilities in life. When we feel stuck or just down, it’s easy to dwell on what was and what could have been, but children remind us that we don’t grow and that things don’t get better unless we keep looking ahead.
As a teenager, I caught a glimpse of my own future that day I saw Kermit Love on TV, in his workshop. A few years later, I myself was the subject of a “career day” feature on the show Big Blue Marble. They wanted to showcase me, a young puppeteer, working on the set of Caboose. The cameras filmed me and my father, who dropped me off at the train station in Baltimore, where I would commute to New York City. They showed Kermit teaching me how to build puppets and then me building puppets at home in Turner’s Station and, finally, doing a live performance in front of a group that became one of my favorite audiences—the students at the Battle Monument School. (I was so proud to be showcased in this way—but, I admit, I was really flattered by the fact that they’d asked me to shave my mustache for the segment…I finally looked old enough to shave!)
Somewhere out there, I bet some kid was watching me, optimistic and excited about the future, dreaming about the possibilities that life held, wondering if there was such a thing as a happy ending.
“And they all lived happily ever after,” right? Well, my own fairy tale is far from over because I’m still living it. When I come home from work each day, I’m usually pretty exhausted, but in a good way. I honestly feel like I just spent the day with a very active, joyful, and wildly optimistic three-and-a-half-year-old, one who always wants to know more and, most of all, to be more.
Elmo may not use a lot of big words, and he may not be very tall, but day after day, he’s bursting with a message of hope and