Yet, it was a form of very real communication that afforded a huge part of the population in the broader Cape Town region to express themselves in a manner that was colourful, direct and even rebellious in some ways. And, as literature was in the hands of the purists, the local variety mostly got left behind in written form and in mass media.

Of late, with movements that clearly drive inclusiveness and competitiveness agendas in our country, we started seeing the resurgence of Kaaps in many formats, including literature. Jacana Media accepted the manuscript, first written in Kaaps and then rewritten in standard Afrikaans with direct speech in Kaaps so as to capture the true essence of the characters when they speak. It then was translated into English, Xhosa and Zulu.

Couple this with the story’s characters – who, for many years in this country – have been left behind and whose stories were simply not told. The characters are coloured folk, who are Muslim, and their stories were either told through the lens of a white person who turned them into dancing monkeys in a musical or stupid/ignorant folk who never held positions of power or business/land owners let alone be part of the intelligentsia.

For years we just did not hear names like Faizel and his family Shamiela (his mom), Moegsien (his dad) and Fatima (his older sister), nor did we see what they looked like on our television sets. We were instead barraged with white culture – hearing their names and seeing how they live – often with negative effects on our psyches, our traditions and our beliefs, entrenching mind- sets of harmful inferiority complexes.

For me, as a child growing up in the Apartheid era, it became more important to explore films and literature from all corners of the globe, including the Middle and Far East, South America and Mexico and much more, in order to see their cities, their rural areas, their architecture, their art, their clothes, to hear their names and to afford respect to their cultures and customs. This, I believe, is paramount to the cornerstones of very concepts of respect and compassion.

Faizel is in many ways just me, growing up and being a child who is not exactly the

stereotypical five-year-old. While other boys might enjoy cars, toy guns and plastic soldiers, Faizel enjoys helping his mother with household chores like baking and doing the laundry. He also has an obsession with the stars, counting them as others would sheep, as he falls asleep. He sees the stars as “twinklies” that keep him safe while he sleeps at night (otherwise they would be there during the day as well). And he just loves the fact that they don’t ever need to be “turned on” like normal lights. (And what with Eskom being what it is, they would be off most of the time…) Stars just appear, as if they know exactly when the right time is to do so…

His other favourite pastime is to impersonate different characters with his sister’s doll and giving his sister belly-aching laughs with his portrayals. Seeing her

happy, and that he was the cause of it, makes him very happy. He can’t understand why there is anger and hatred in the world. For him, life is wonderful and exactly as it should be.

But, I decided for that not to happen to Faizel – that his father buys him a birthday gift that is encouraging and open-minded. And, in the end he says the most tender words to Faizel, exhibiting a character arc that is perhaps too radical but certainly what we would want more of in this world. Note to self: no spoiler alerts.

faizel

Faizel and the stars