The Bard by Richard Duijnstee from Pixabay, Fugard by Paula Fourie
A note delivered at the Richmond Bookfest on 30 October 2025
While there can be no doubt that musical performances, poetry recitals and play presentations have been performed over the thousands of years of human existence, for centuries or maybe even millennia they were the products of oral tradition. The Sumerian legend of Gilgamesh is possibly the oldest recorded poetry, and it is now 3 000 years old. Then came Homer, with the Odyssey and the Iliad, two epic poems that, as CM Bowra has written, “by common agreement … started European literature”. They have been dated at somewhere about 750 to 700 BCE.
It was only with the arrival of the Greek city states that we gained reliable records of the work of playwrights. Miraculously, many plays from the Periclean Golden Age have survived – seven of Sophocles’s 120 plays, seven of Aeschylus’s 70, and 19 of Euripides’s 95, to mention only the surviving works of the three giants of Greek theatre. All the existent works of Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides were written between about 460 and 400 BCE, making them now nearly 2 500 years old. Equally miraculously, they are still performed, not only out of historical curiosity, but also because they are bloody good plays. Many of them include music that would have been written by the playwright, and of course they are often in poetic forms. Poetry, music and theatre were seamlessly bound together in this, the period of Greek Antiquity.
The novel – fiction – was a later arrival in the trove of humanly created artistic wonders. While there was a novel that was discovered as a part of Ancient Greek culture (written about 500 years after the dramatists mentioned here), novels appeared only sporadically for the next 1 600 years. It took the invention of the printing press in 1450 to see the novel find its feet and its place in our human world. Now widely spoken of as the first modern novel, Cervantes’s Don Quixote, published in 1605, set the modern novel off on its all-conquering literary journey. In a 2002 BBC poll of 100 writers that included our Nadine Gordimer, Salman Rushdie and even John la Carre, this novel was voted overwhelmingly as the greatest novel of all time.
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Let’s jump forward to the year 2012. London was then hosting the Olympic Games, and, as all host cities do and always have done, they put on a grand show of their national wonders and treasures for the hordes of foreign visitors to enjoy. Included in the London wonders was an exhibition at the British Museum that was entitled The UK’s Greatest Contribution to World Culture. Can anyone guess what the subject of this towering epithet was? It was “William Shakespeare”. Yes, a playwright. The paramount English-language cultural achiever was a playwright.
And yet, of the 122 Nobel laureates in literature from 1901 to date, only 15, or 12%, are playwrights. Many, many more are the writers of fiction and novels. And at literary festival after literary festival here in South Africa, there are novelists galore and only occasionally the odd playwright.
What am I up to? Where is this going? Please be patient. I have a plan. This will go somewhere in the end, I promise. Meanwhile, please just park two thoughts: playwriting is one of the oldest of human artistic endeavours, far older than fiction writing, and playwriting has a clear primacy for English-speaking persons. So, where have all the playwrights gone?
When I had finished my first book, Apartheid’s Stalingrad, which was about the war in the townships of Port Elizabeth in the 1980s, in my opinion the most important political development in the history of my little piece of this earth, I decided to write about the most important cultural development in this area. That was, of course, the Athol Fugard, John Kani and Winston Ntshona years. Kani and Ntshona were the most prominent of New Brighton’s Serpent Players, the theatre group that Athol helped to set up.
I read extensively on this topic and this time. There is a comprehensive literature on Fugard, but almost nothing on the Serpent Players, his fellow paddlers in the river. And available literature almost totally ignored the people who did so much to make Fugard the sensation he became – Yvonne Bryceland, the Serpents, Zakes Mokae, Barney Simon and Ross Devenish. Simon is the only one of these who has a reasonable literature; Yvonne Bryceland, who, Fugard told me, was the most important “provocation” (his term) in his long career, merited two footnotes in the most recent and detailed of the three biographical works on Fugard. And there is little written of the onrush of apartheid and the cascading tyrannies of censorship and racial segregation that flooded his world in all aspects of the theatre.
I went to Stellenbosch to see him. I mentioned that I had begun to write about him and the Serpents, and he asked what line I was to take. (Writing about Fugard is a well-trodden road – there are, I believe, about 100 theses out there, of which I now have had the horror of reading possibly 30, and the Amazwi archive has over 4 000 pieces on Fugard alone.) I told him that I believed that there was enough “litcrit” about him; instead, I wanted to concentrate on contextualisation – what was going on out there in our apartheid world around him – and who influenced him: Yvonne, Barney, the Serpents, Zakes and Ross. And also the political and legislative environment that had been forced onto him, and his – and their – responses to it. He thought a while, and replied: “Rory, take those beautiful people and put them on the centre of the stage.” That is what I have now spent two years trying to do.
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What I have done in my book is cover the period of protest theatre in South Africa – specifically from 1960 to 1994. Athol Fugard is the golden thread running through this period for reasons that will become obvious to anyone kind enough to read my book. Nadine Gordimer has written: “(The tradition of) significant South African drama in English has been created single-handedly by Athol Fugard.” But my writing is not all about him. Before him, there was Stephen Black, HIE Dhlomo, Alan Paton and a series of one-play writers – they are all discussed in my book. Contemporaneous with Fugard were Gibson Kente and Mbongeni Ngema, also discussed. And Fugard helped create two theatres, both incubators for protest theatre: The Space in Cape Town (with Brian Astbury and Yvonne Bryceland) and The Market in Johannesburg (actually created by his two friends Barney Simon and Mannie Manim, but Fugard’s spirit can be detected in it).
In the period 1960 to 1994, Fugard wrote four plays which he discarded; 15 others he wrote alone and they are still performed; six were written in collaboration with others – three with the Serpent Players, one with Yvonne Bryceland and two with John Kani and Winston Ntshona; and he wrote three movies with Ross Devenish, two teleplays (one discarded) and his one novel, Tsotsi. To all of these works I have given detailed consideration, as well as addressing the political circumstances influencing their construction and the people who lent him their talents and their energy.
It is in this oeuvre of work from 1960 to 1994 that Fugard’s genius is most clearly revealed, his talent peacocked. Time twice wrote that he was the “foremost active playwright in the English-speaking world”, and the New York Times wrote that “Fugard’s body of work is unmatched as political theatre in our century”. He was also, as John Battersby wrote, “the English-language playwright most frequently performed after Shakespeare”. This is extraordinary for a guy from Port Elizabeth – hardly a world centre of theatre – who had lousy schooling and a family background that was not even middle-class – for he was, in the words of the first Carnegie Commission into poverty in South Africa, a “poor white”.
I have traced 26 awards that he, his plays and the actors in them won on Broadway or in London. Certainly, the awards he was proudest of were those won by his colleagues while acting in his plays: three black South African actors won Tony Awards for the best acting performance in any play on Broadway in New York in a year – Zakes Mokae, John Kani and Winston Ntshona. And in possibly the greatest achievement of all, Yvonne Bryceland won both the Laurence Olivier Award for the best actress performance on a London stage in a year, and the Obie Award in New York for the same achievement, both for her role as Miss Helen in the play Fugard wrote for Bryceland, The road to Mecca. I doubt this double had ever happened before or has ever happened since.
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Let me close with a reading from my book – in fact, a reading from the short introduction to the work. I pondered – in fact, wrote – two introductions before I settled for this hillbilly piece. The style is unusual, but I believe Athol would have liked it.
Introduction to Athol Fugard and the Serpent Players: Theatre against apartheid
Tonight, 20 April 1975, we are going to have one hell-of-a-party.
We’re in New York – in fact, in the Winter Gardens Theatre on Broadway. It is, even by Broadway standards, a big theatre, seating 1 600 people. And tonight it’s going to be full-up.
Tonight the Winter Gardens Theatre is hosting the Tony Awards.
Maybe a few words of explanation.
London and New York are the two major centres of English-language theatre, and probably of world theatre. Each has about 230 theatres, of which about 40 in each city are clustered into a central theatre district, called the West End in London, and Broadway in New York. In these districts, real cutting-edge theatrical action happens, and each has annual award ceremonies to celebrate the major theatrical successes of the previous year.
In London, these awards are the Laurence Olivier Awards. In New York, well, it’s slightly more complex. For New York theatres are classified – a “Broadway” theatre is one that seats more than 500 patrons, an “Off-Broadway” theatre seats between 100 and 500 patrons, and an “Off-off-Broadway” theatre seats under 100 patrons. “Broadway” theatres, the big ones, have a set of annual theatre awards called the Tony Awards, and “Off-Broadway” and “Off-off Broadway” theatres are combined, and they qualify for the Obie Awards. Both the Tony and Obie Awards are managed by the same organisation, the American Theatre Wing.
The Tony Awards are, in fact, the Antoinette Perry Awards for Excellence in Broadway Theatre, named after one of the founders of these awards. They have run continuously since 1947, and are the theatrical equivalent of the Emmy Awards (for television shows), the Grammy Awards (for music) and the Academy Awards (Oscars) for cinema.
Phew, enough facts – let’s get back to our party. For tonight the Tony Awards for Broadway shows from 1974 are to be awarded. The guests are pouring in – beautiful actresses in as little clothing as possible, trying to look younger than they are; handsome actors in bespoke suits trying to look richer than they are – this is theatre, not cinema; most everybody is poor here. But beautiful, sure.
Big names all around – the hosts include Walter Mattheu, Jack Lemon and Angela Lansbury. Playwright Peter Shaffer is here – his play Equus is up for Best Play, Best Actor, Best Director; it stars Anthony Hopkins and Peter Firth, and is directed by seasoned campaigner John Dexter. It was commissioned by Britain’s National Theatre, who brought it from London to Broadway. With all that muscle behind it, it surely is going to be a big winner tonight.
Then there is Edward Albee, whose new play Seascape is up for Best Play; Henry Fonda and Frank Langella are both up for Best Actor, and Angela Lansbury and Diana Rigg are both up for Best Actress.
It’s a full house of stars and the glitterati of the stage, with a red carpet, endless clacking cameras, champagne (French, of course) flowing like Niagara, canapés to die for. The party is on.
Hello – who are those three rather scruffy-looking guys in that corner? Two black men and one white? Why are they here?
What is that you just said? They have been nominated for awards? The white guy for Best Play and Best Director, and the black guys both for Best Performance by an Actor in a Play? And they are also nominated, with the white guy, for writing the best play? What?
Where are they from? Did you say they are from Port Elizabeth? Where’s that? South Africa? Oh, yes, the land on the bottom of Africa, with gold, diamonds and apartheid. But if they have apartheid, how did two black guys and one white end up here together? Did you say they wrote protest theatre, plays against apartheid? Well, then again, how the hell did they get here?
You say their names are Athol Fugard – the white dude – and Winston Ntshona and John Kani? What drama school did they attend? None, you say? Never been to a drama school? In fact, none of them have university degrees? Heavens! How long have they been in theatre? The white dude, 16 years, and the black dudes nine years and seven years.
Where did they learn theatre? In an abandoned snake pit? Oh, come on – you’re shitting me. You say it’s true? Well, what theatres have they performed in? You say that the black dudes performed in their first theatre with a stage and lights two years ago? And that, in their home city, Port Elizabeth, there were two or three fully equipped theatres, but they couldn’t use them because they are black?
You say the three of them wrote these two plays that are up for Tonys, in an abandoned school classroom and a suburban garage, and the one play took 18 days to write and the other 11, and they didn’t have a written script for the first performances? And it is written in their second language – Kani and Ntshona speak Xhosa – that they only began speaking English when they got to school? And they had no budget? No money at all? No state support? I suppose not – they are anti-state plays, after all. And the white guy had his passport taken away for nearly five years? And yet, here they are, at the Tony Awards ceremony, nominated for awards? No, man, this is unbelievable.
Oh, the ceremony is beginning. First up – Best Play.
Six nominations, including these three guys for – what is this? Sizwe Bansi is dead and The island? Two plays – I didn’t know that it was possible to enter two plays for one award. What are they about? You say the impact of South Africa’s pass laws on urbanising blacks? They made a play out of that? And the second one – about political prisoners in jail putting on Antigone for their fellow prisoners? A bit weird, not so? Surely no hope for an award?
The award goes to Peter Schaffer and Equus, which is easy to understand. A big-budget play right in the tradition of the Tony Awards. Not some weird stuff from the land of apartheid.
Now – Best Director of a Play. Athol Fugard is among six nominations, which is a great honour, but no – it goes to John Dexter, again from the big-budget Equus. Another understandable award, squarely in the Tony tradition.
Now for number three – the Tony for Best Performance by an Actor in a Leading Role in a Play. Both Kani and Ntshona are nominated, as one? Never heard of that before! Also, Henry Fonda is nominated, and Peter Firth from Equus. Stiff competition, sorry!
What – Kani and Ntshona won! For the first time in Tony history, two actors each get the award! And they take it, and all each says to the mike is “Thank you” and offstage they go! They, two young men from Port Elizabeth, have won the most coveted prize in world theatre!
And you say all this happened? Man, you’re fucking with my head. It’s just not possible.
But it is possible, and it all happened.
That’s the story I am now going to tell you.
Grab a mug of coffee, settle down in your most comfortable chair, blanket on your knees and cat on your lap.
I’m now going to tell you the unbelievable story of Athol Fugard and the Serpent Players – theatre against apartheid.
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Athol Fugard died at his home in Stellenbosch on 8 March 2025. His wife, Dr Paula Fourie, was, as ever, in attendance, as were their two young children, Halle (3 years old) and Lanigan (brand new).
He had, as Nadine Gordimer has said, personally and single-handedly created a tradition of intense South African theatre, and had taken it to a height never before or since attained in South Africa – or, for that matter, anywhere in world theatre. In the process, he had also nurtured and mentored many actors, directors and creators of theatre – theatre people of all sorts and types. His was a stellar life, one I have had the extraordinary honour and pleasure to tell. I hope that in the early new year, you may inspect my manuscript, and that you too will be dumbfounded by the achievements of Athol Fugard and his friends.
And today? Where have all the playwrights gone?
See also:
Athol Fugard and the Serpent Players: The Port Elizabeth years
Athol Fugard is 90: A portrait of the artist as a man who jumped at opportunities
Playwright Athol Fugard receives award for lifetime contribution to theatre