From David Schalkwyk’s wonderfully thoughtful Hamlet’s Dreams: The Robben Island
Shakespeare (2012) (at pages 75-76), this moment from a University of Cape
Town classroom around 1991, when apartheid was dying but not yet dead:
Schalkwyk’s students were discussing a poem by a white former prisoner, Jeremy
Cronin, who describes hearing the singing of uMkhonto we Sizwe guerrillas
facing execution. Cronin’s poem includes these lines:
Three
voices
Called or
Moise
Combine or responding
Tsotsobe
Weaving
Shabangu
In the classroom the students began debating whether the
white prisoners would really have been close enough to the black prisoners on
death row to hear their singing.
Schalkwyk recounts: “In the midst of an earnest discussion,
which had divided the class, a quiet reserved man put up his hand. I think Cronin is right, he said. This did happen. A pause. I was there; I am David Moise.”
The class and Schalkwyk were stunned. Moise’s name on
Schalkwyk’s class list hadn’t caught his eye, and apparently Moise had, with
the other students in the class, read a number of other pieces of prison
literature that had not prompted him to identify himself this way. Schalkwyk
writes that, “On reflection, I have always been struck by the fact that this
revelation was provoked, not by the many memoirs of imprisonment on Robben
Island, but by a poem.”
Schalkwyk’s book itself demonstrates, powerfully, that Shakespeare
has a lot to say about Robben Island and South Africa. But perhaps nothing can
prove the point that literature helps give meaning to life more vividly than
this moment when life and literature fused in the classroom before everyone’s
eyes.
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