Memory and the present clash in The Pump Room, a dynamic new play

Allan Horwitz’s play, the Pump Room, which just finishes its run at the Theatre in the District in Cape Town, should have attracted much greater attention from audiences and reviewers alike. But this small production, lacking a big budget and the marketing muscle of the big theatre houses, has for now made only a tiny blip on the theatre scene. Pity.


The play has interesting structural elements. The narrative is built around the central metaphor of a pump room – around the sluggish but rhythmic work of pumps to depollute, clean up and freshen out water so that it can be fit for public use.

Although the specific comment is about how former security policemen have reinvented themselves and function (in often toxic ways) in the new dispensation, there is an implicit reference to wider comment about corruption in society.

At one level, the play throws light on how emotions, issues and trauma of the past have washed over into the present. At another level, it shows how the evil deeds, manipulation, terror and human exploitation, including exploitation of women, continue into the present.

Horwitz juggles the characters between crosscutting lines of conversation, between the male and female poles and between the claustrophobic pump room setting and the sea-view location. He manages to maintain the balance (and precariously so) without letting it all collapse in confusion. The banter between characters becomes fast-paced; everyone struggling for some control of their situation by defending who they are, using verbal sniping, pushing their view of life and all too often sticking the knife into each other's flaws.

In the end, memory and the present jar but also, in a strange way, work to form a coherent whole. For the characters, the memories opens wounds and surfaces unresolved issues. But for the audience, as the past is revealed, it helps to explain the distorted relationships and the strange bonds. The information about the past brings a frame of understanding and even empathy.

The play is political but also invokes the personal dimension. It skillfully raises the question: what is it that prevents the individual from breaking out of paralysis so they can move forward with some sense of future and purpose? How much of the 'stuckness' is due to external forces, and how much is due to the demons, often un-named, that we carry with us?

It was a pity the show attracted such small audiences, as I said. The powerful piece forms part of a broader phenomenon. There is currently a flourish of new works, in literature and the theatre, that focus on the past (the days when apartheid reigned supreme) or show how the new democracy is still shadowed by ghosts of the past. The Pump Room links particularly to works that show how individuals, including those who were involved in the struggle, were traumatized and brought close to breaking point by what they went through. For a good number of such people, while many aspects of life in Mzansi move forward, they remain on the sidelines, trying to reassemble their life. Although the social situation cries out for selfless champions, for the kind of value-driven activists that they were, they are unable to bring themselves to drive the dynamic social change agenda that they fought for in earlier times.

Horwitz, in his guise as a playwright and director, is an important new voice - one that believes in the vibrancy, ongoing relevance and life-giving quality of politically-oriented theatre. Skillfully directed and well acted, the Pump Room’s brief run is over; one hopes that it will be staged again in the near future.

Shirley, Goodness and Mercy: the play

This piece of theatre - on at the Johannesburg's Market Theatre until 13 May 2007 - captures a good deal of the essence of Chris van Wyk's book, Shirley Goodness and Mercy: a childhood memoir. Directed by Janice Honeyman, the play not only communicates effectively the sounds, sights, flavours and smells in the book, it also provides many delightful excerpts from the well-written text itself. Such extensive word-for-word rendition gives the play particular strength since a salient feature of Van Wyk's book is his wry, witty (some would say sly) and often hilarious turn of phrase.

The play does not fully or always capture the depth of the book itself, and in instances appears to miss the meaning of Van Wyk's reflections as conveyed in the memoir. In addition, there is miserly coverage of the older Van Wyk, as he positions himself in the world in a way that is rich in insights and perceptions which in turn throw light on how South Africans generally manage the complexity and contradictions of change. (Of course, some of the differences may be seen as to-be-expected consequences of translating text to a different medium. Others appear, however, to be directorial choices). Nevertheless the work still has many strengths. The play does not romanticize the community or the responses of the poor to their circumstances but depicts life in coloured townships warts and all. It portrays the growing pains of a boy who delights in the love and caring of his mother, closely studies the quirks of family members and neighbours, asks too many questions and frequently spices it all up by self-deprecating recollections of several of his own escapades.

The telling of the story is richly textured, joyous, vibrant and filled with mirth; it is through such telling, and only indirectly, that we learn about a community's resilience through difficult and confusing times. As the play ends, there is - powerfully so - no easy resolution to social challenges, including aspects such as poverty, widespread parochialism, discriminatory attitudes and confusion around identity. Many questions remain about the future for families and the community depicted, but one is left with the distinct impression that story-telling, neighbourliness and a distinctive vibrancy will extend well into the future as people of such communities continue to strive to better their lives.