Talking Movies: From Zap to Zapiro – Episode 3

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https://iframe.iono.fm/e/1489086

Welcome to Talking Movies, I’m Spling. This week we begin Episode 3 of From Zap to Zapiro…

As a seasoned cinephile with a deep appreciation for the art of storytelling, I find myself captivated by the rich and poignant tales of Zapiro, as shared in Episode 3 of From Zap to Zapiro. The narrative of his life, punctuated by extraordinary encounters and moments of profound recognition, is nothing short of awe-inspiring.

It’s hard for me to get away from the story that I’ve told so many times, that I call that I received from Nelson Mandela, when I thought it was a prank call and then, you know, when I served presence of… “Hello, is that Zapiro?”.

Initially, I assumed the call was a joke since your voice didn’t sound familiar. But as it turned out to be your voice, I realized it was indeed you. To my surprise, you expressed that you were angry with me.

I found myself questioning, “What is it that I’ve done wrong?” It turned out that my cartoons would no longer be published in the Argus, as the Argus had started publishing cartoons from Sowetan instead. Back then, in the 90s, he could only see me when my work was featured in the Argus, but since there was no internet, this was his only source of connection. He personally called to inform me about it.

At the close of our discussion, I commented, “It’s fascinating that you reached out to me given my cartoons have become increasingly critical of the ANC and the government over the past four years.” His response was, “Ah, but that is your role.” This undoubtedly marked a significant moment for me, one that holds great value as a heartening acknowledgment.

Additionally, let me share another individual who holds great significance for me. In 2004, I received a call from someone with an American accent. He asked, “Is this the cartoonist Zapiro?” To which I confirmed, “Yes.

He asked, “Would you be interested in meeting Harry Belafonte?” To which I replied, “I’d be thrilled!” He continued, “He’s eager to meet you.” I was taken aback and wondered, “How did this come about?” Then I asked, “Where will this take place?” He inquired back, “Where do you reside?” I confirmed, “Is he in Cape Town?” To which he responded affirmatively. When? It turned out it was on Christmas Day of 2004.

That day, I planned to see him at five in the evening. Later, I visited the beach, returned home, and prepared myself for our meeting. A bit later, an aged yet striking man with a tall, chiseled physique and wearing an oversized coat in the heat of summer stood at the gate. It was somewhat peculiar. He entered, walked up the driveway, and gave me a warm bear hug. We then ventured into our studio, sat down, and began our conversation.

A few moments into our conversation, he interrupted me and remarked, “I need to pause you for a moment.” He continued, “I have something I’d like to share. It seems that God has a great sense of humor. I was under the impression that you were a black man.” This comment was prompted by a cartoon I had drawn, which he found particularly insightful about the African-American experience, specifically referencing Colin Powell. Remarkably, he had been recalled from attending an anti-racism conference in Durban by George W. Bush.

In another way of phrasing, it goes like this: He assumed, indeed, that I was an African-American with a sense for African politics, given his background as a South African cartoonist. This was his presumption, and so he planned to meet me. Turned out, he was delightful from the start. It took only a few minutes for him to reveal this, followed by his emotional account of seeing one of my cartoons.

For me, it was truly remarkable, especially given that the praise came from such a distinguished figure – an activist, an African-American who hails from the Caribbean yet is deeply rooted in American activism. He seemed to believe that I had grasped and could articulate his work adequately enough to convince him I was of African descent. Needless to say, this was both humbling and exhilarating.

You know, your work is just so challenging and provocative a lot of the time, and you are covering some really contentious topics. But in spite of that, your cartoons often have this sense of hope. And I wanted to find out from you, where do you find that optimism? And is it quite difficult to maintain that and to sort of find the right balance in terms of your cartoons keeping the audience rapt?

Absolutely, it’s a thought-provoking query. I believe the source of my response stems directly from my character. I’m deeply invested and enthusiastic about the subject matter, and to put it simply, I have an activist nature, which was cultivated in the 80s.

Reflecting on those days, I can’t help but reminisce about my guiding light during that time – the work I did for UDF from ’83 to around ’88. It was a challenging period, shrouded in darkness, yet we found moments of levity amidst it all. One such moment was when I created the UDF calendar, a project many are familiar with, UDF ’87, which was finalized towards the end of ’86. My intention was clear – to portray our involvement in the struggle not just as darkness and weight, but also as a vibrant part of our lives.

In a straightforward and engaging manner: I must clarify that my personal background is not the same as the African, Black, or Colored experiences here in Cape Town; I am a privileged white individual. However, being part of the anti-apartheid struggle during the ’80s with the UDF provided me an extraordinary, multicultural perspective. Despite our lack of clarity about when change would truly occur, there was a strong sense of unity and hope among us all. By 1990, this shared optimism had grown, fueled by our collective belief that people working together, each in their unique ways, would ultimately bring about positive changes.

What I aimed to express in that single sketch is still relevant when I ponder over difficulties and unfavorable situations. There are numerous instances in contemporary South Africa that have echoed this sentiment for me. I’ve always had the feeling that no matter what, there’s something worth finding, something amusing, interesting, or hopeful, even in dark times. I make a deliberate effort to focus on these aspects.

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2024-10-05 11:43