Litnet

'n Vriendin stuur vanoggend die berig/storie vir my. Dit is in Ingels maar soos gewoonlik kan die Afrikaans daarin nie ignoreer word nie. Dit is weereens 'n duidelike bewys dat Afrikaans een van die beter tale is om te praat. As jy nie Afrikaans kan of wil praat of verstaan nie, jammer vir jou. 

Jammer vir die taalgebruik maar dit is nou maar so.

Lydia Lindeque, the pioneering South African actress and wife of Uys Krige swore to her dying day that this story was true:

Around the late 1940’s in a small rural  Karoo town, in a town-hall made of wood and iron, a traveling theatre company performed a play in Afrikaans.

The whole (white) town turned out. The mayor and the dominee, deacons and dignitaries lined the front rows. The rest of the audience were all coloured, restless and loud behind the pound seats; obviously new to drama on the stage.

The melodrama proceeded ... A shot is fired. An actress pitches over sideways into the hero's arms. He turns, quivering, to the audience and implores, “En wat moet ek nou maak?” Someone right at the back calls out, “Naai haar voor sy koud word!”

The act is halted. The mayor confers with the dominee, addresses the audience and unforthcoming culprit; behave, or no more play. The coloured konstabel is set to stroll up and down the central aisle, brandishing his truncheon menacingly. The actors crank it up again. On stage a cup of tea is sipped. With  pinkie cocked, the hero muses, “Wat is darem lekkerder as 'n koppie tee?”

The konstabel turns to the crowd, his truncheon prominent in his hand, “As iemand poes sê, slat ek hom stukkend!”

Reusedwerg