Two conflicting South African narratives collide in Gail Louw’s powerful drama
When two ruthless power players clash, things are seldom as black and white as they seem. Noted Jewish playwright Gail Louw brings together – South Africa’s ex-president Jacob Zuma and his one-time fellow freedom fighter Ronnie Kasrils – confining them in a hospital ward with resentments that have festered for years. The two old rivals still have one thing in common, however – they’re both suffering the indignities of old age and its ailments, and not in silence.
Both men have wielded power: Zuma during the troubled decade of his presidency and Kasrils as minister for intelligence services during the years preceding Zuma. Both have been called out for exploiting their positions. The issue is that Kasrils has openly showed his disgust for Zuma and continues to do so here. Meanwhile Zuma is defiantly unapologetic and has no problem going on the attack himself. Yet it becomes clear that as young freedom fighters they were comrades in arms, who suffered for their beliefs; Zuma serving 10 years on Robben Island, alongside Nelson Mandela.
Andrew Francis’s ebullient Zuma and Jack Klaff’s bluff Kasrils circle each other like boxers in a ring, determined to deliver bloody noses and more. They exchange insults as they revisit the good (and bad) old days, but a reality check comes from Bu Kunene’s respectful yet firm young nurse Thandi. A diminutive figure next to the towering hulks of her two patients, she makes it clear that on this private ward, she is queen. Louw's poetic storytelling has Kunene playing a series of cameo roles in flashbacks, from Kasrils’ late wife to Mandela himself.
Their memories may be contradictory, but they share a taste for ice cream and a need for diversion in their confinement. Conveniently, the obliging Thandi provides Kasrils with ice lollies and her patients face each other across a chess board. The board is a miniature version of the clinical black and white tiled floor and walls of designer Cecilia Trono’s plush private lounge, for these two players have been engaged in dangerous games all their adult lives. The monochrome shades also signify race, for Zuma takes his resentment way back beyond his troubled relationship with Kasrils. For him, this Jew who has suffered his own indignities must stand for all the "kaffirs" (white men) who have greedily ravaged Africa and subjugated its native peoples.
Francis is entirely, almost infuriatingly convincing, stridently claiming that Zuma’s entitlement to suffering is the greater. His babyfather (he reputedly fathered more than 20 children with several wives and mistresses) struts like the cock of the walk he insists he still is, making inappropriate advances to the dignified, carefully tactful Thandi. That his Zuma comes off worse is down to the incisive eloquence with which Louw equips Kasrils (for which she could draw on his published memoirs), who revels in stalking Francis like a beast of prey.
Louw is South African herself and both players enjoy using her insider’s knowledge of the language. “You’re a very strange Jew," utters Zuma. "A Jew who isn’t interested in making imali [cash]. I don’t trust such men. You prefer mischief to money.” Vik Sivalingam’s well-paced direction also ensures that this war of words is never less than engaging for its intense 85 minutes.
By Judi Herman
Photos by Robert Workman
The Ice Cream Boys runs until Saturday 2 November. 7.30pm & 3.30pm (Sat only). £30, £20 concs. Jermyn Street Theatre, SW1Y 6ST. www.jermynstreettheatre.co.uk