Ephasini Lamabhudango: Reclaiming Dreams Deferred.
Too often, the history of Africa is often sectioned according to the colonial presence of European entities. When writing about Africa, to add to Kenyan writer Binyavanga Wanainaâs persistently relevant prose, one mustnât forget to use the terms âpre-colonialâ, âcolonial(ism)â and âpost-colonialâ when describing the state of the continent and its myriad of peoples before, during, and after colonialism. This seemingly inescapable partitioning of African history means that we are constantly forced to address, confront and contend with the effects of colonialism that are not only restricting and confining, but the very nature of oppression ensures that the oppressed are stripped of their humanity regardless of how much they imitate or adopt the culture of their oppressors.Â
Under colonialism, few things belonged to us, not even our bodies. Under the prism of white supremacy, black bodies are simultaneously hypervisible and invisible. Perceptions based in prejudice often render us agentless in the ways society interacts with black bodies. For centuries, despite nudity in its various forms being a prominent and accepted part of daily life and culture for many Africans, enslavement, colonial rule, influences from Islam and Christianity, and patriarchal systems violently upheld systems and social standards that constrained the agency and autonomy of black people through clothing and nudity. Civilizing missions sought to enlighten so-called savages, ironically employing savage methods to do so.
Today, the case of âtrueâ emancipation from colonial subjugation remains a debate with no real end â even and especially when dealing with conflicts of community and self, relating to who we were, before, during, and after colonialism. Pan African narratives and culture have sought to address, pun intended, these dilemmas by encouraging Africans to adopt and take pride in their traditional clothing as a form of reclaiming a sense of self that was stripped away by history. However, like everything else affected by colonial rule, the mentality of factions of Pan Africanists does not extend to the âradicalâ notion of nudity being a form of presentation as natural as wearing garments for some. Thus, this begs us to ask several questions; How free is free? What does liberation look like to each individual? And in the context of bodies and ownership, history and the world as we know it now, living in a culture of where FEMENâs nude protests stand in stark contrast to the women who have, for centuries, used nudity as a form of resistance, nudity can be as much liberating as it is suppressing. Navigating nudity in the present day is often a delicate balance and as black women, intersectionality is the guiding force that grounds or resistance in fiercely claiming you for you, as you are. Whether in downtown Johannesburg or on the streets of Nairobi. Your body belongs to everyone but you. For black women, ownership of our bodies, whether clothed or unclothed, is a constant battle where the âhistoric binary of the naked and clothedâ â where nudity reflects ills not in line with moral uprightness â often reveals itself in violent manifestations not unlike ones seen in the past.
In Ephasini Lamabhudango, âa film about the celebration and reimagining of a Ndebele woman in modern day Johannesburg who dares to be her true selfâ, actress Tsholofelo Maseko casually walks the streets of the city, beautifully dressed in her Ndebele traditional dress, hoping in the front seat of a taxi at one point, sitting down to observe her surroundings at another. âEphasini Lamabhudango means your dreams,â Tsholofelo tells me. âEnglish is such a literal language and is not always the greatest to translate into but to translate it loosely it means âyour dream worldââ.
Speaking to the self-described âdreamer from Middelburg, Mpumalangaâ, we discussed her interpretation of personal liberation and the significance of reclaiming her sense of self as depicted in the film. As with the Ndebele women, past and present, and women all over the continent who have and still wear their traditional clothing, whatever it may be, nudity is not a central focus for Tsholofelo. A collaboration between many talents, the video was captured by Zimbabwean-South African filmmaker, photographer and Pan African traveler Ndumiso Sibanda whom I chatted to as well.
Like Sibanda, Maseko is no stranger to the camera. Since beginning her acting career in 2012, sheâs appeared in television shows Intersexions 2, Soul City, Task Force, and most recently The Road. But unlike the roles weâve seen her portray on screen, this role is not any bit fictional.
How the idea come about for the video, and what inspired you to create it? Â
The experience of an African in Africa. The desire to express myself in my language without saying a single word. It was inspired by my desire to experience ultimate freedom in my life time. I had grown tired of constantly apologizing for my blackness, my femininity and my Ndebele-ness because apparently Ndebele women arenât that beautiful and you canât be traditional/rural in the city. You canât be yourself in the city.Â
From start to finish, this story is almost entirely your own, save for the lyrics provided by singer Thandi Ntuli. What would you say is, or how would you describe what you label as, your âtrue selfâ?
Fearless. My true self is not afraid, ashamed or ever feels like hiding. I am confident, unapologetic and offensive about who I am. I own my body and my image.Â
How was the experience of walking around Johannesburg filming the video for you?
It was absolutely life changing. In those few hours I experienced ultimate freedom. When I left home I thought I wasnât going to make it back because a half-naked woman at a taxi rank doesnât live to tell the tale. But as I was walking I realized that everybody understands whatâs going on here because this is who they are as well, so automatically they respect it. The only shock factor here is that Iâm doing it in the middle of Johannesburg and remember people that look like that donât belong in the streets of Johannesburg. Women that âexposeâ themselves like that donât make it to the other side of the bridge because she asked for it. How dare she embrace her femininity and own her body like that? When I made it to the other side of that bridge the fear, self-doubt, shame, and self-blame, it all disappeared and I felt so proud and understood my power so much more. I am a woman, I am black, I am Ndebele and I choose to exist in the world exactly like that, Iâm not leaving anything at home.Â
There so much power in hearing you describe your experience. Itâs hard not to be inspired. Interestingly, much of what hear in the video comes from singer Thandi Ntuli. How did Thandiâs involvement come about?
My amazing director Ndumiso Sibanda is the one that made it happen. Iâm yet to meet the talented Thandi Ntuli. Iâm so grateful for her contribution, the song speaks to me so much and gives the film so much life.Â
Youâve spoken in depth about your experience on the day the video was taken. But reflecting on a wider scale, what does this video mean to you?Â
This for me is a reminder to myself, my brothers and my sisters that no matter where you come from, no matter who you are your dreams are valid and nothing is impossible.Â
(all images by Ndumiso Sibanda)
As a visual storyteller who describes his incredible experiences as a mixture of blessings, faith and talent, Ndumiso Sibanda was born in Zimbabwe. âItâs where I water my strengthâ, he adds when mentioning his place of birth. Though he grew up in Cape Town and has been living in Johannesburg for the last decade, he estimates that heâs travelled 85% of the African continent by car. âIâm an artist at heart, all of what I do is driven by expression. Iâve had some amazing experiences in my young life and I guess one medium of expression wonât cut it. I tell stories across various mediums.â
Thereâs a lot packed in to what we seen in this short film and if thereâs anything filmmakers know itâs that packing a strong message into a short film can be incredibly challenging. What was the experience like conceptualizing, filming and photographing Tsholofelo for the video?
Working with Tsholofelo Maseko and Dumisani Mvumvu was an amazing experience. It was creativity meets purpose, driven by intent.Â
After a few pre-production meetings, we decided on a plan to walk and catch a public mini bus (taxi) from one side of Johannesburg to another and eventually take a walk over the Mandela Bridge. With no real script outside of intent and purpose, we took in the authentic responses that Tsholofeloâs bravery encouraged.Â
Filming this was unsettling in the beginning. The environment was not controlled. Everyday there are incidents that leave women sexually violated because they left the house as they wished. In order to get the reality of the situation and get genuine responses the environment had to challenge our very presence as it naturally would. What defied expectation was how respectful people were, how unexpected their humility was, how they were driven to make Tsholofelo comfortable.Â
Youâve traveled to various parts of the continent, photographing many sights along the way so the idea of filming something deeply rooted in the African conscience and identity seems incredibly fitting. As a filmmaker and photographer, what are some of the things you strive to achieve through your work?
I wish I could answer this question with a few more years in my head. I donât understand my blessings right now and thatâs what Iâm journeying towards. I do know that Iâm incredibly talented and by virtue of my curiosity and faith I often come out with pieces of work that celebrate humanity, and often more specifically black people. The aspirations of Africans is my goal with all my might. Iâm not at all interested in work that does not feed the upliftment of the continent. I like to attract the type of work I put out and one day as I begin to expand my travels I look forward to bringing my thoughts about the continent to the world.
As a consumer of art, meaning is something I often like to contextualize my interpretation of works in line with the intentions of the artist. What does this video mean to you?Â
This video to me means that we do not have to conform to the type of thinking that keeps us under our own thumbs. The strength we exude is put down by so many filters that by the time we leave our own houses we have condemned ourselves to mediocrity or the type of dis-comfort thatâs okay with being âjust njeâ or  âjust okayâ. Live with intent, love with purpose and live with love.
This film means itâs okay to be unapologetically black. In the words of my best friend Ntyatyambo Ntloko âletâs be so black, Ndumisoâ.Â
I was informed that you were responsible for the filmâs soundtrack. How did Thandiâs involvement come about?
Thandi and I have been chatting about a project we would like to work together on. In the midst of these talks, Ephasini Lamabhudango came up. There were a few songs we played with but at that time only one of them worked and it was by an artist named Alice Smith from the Nina Simone tribute album titled âI Put a Spell on Youâ. As much as I fell in love with this song it became clear to me that we needed a song no one had heard before. I called Thandi Ntuli and she answered. Her ability to create is such an inspiration. She sent through a sample track and I fell in love with it thinking it was the final one. She then invited me to studio and I fell in love with her process and I guess the rest is on film.Â
What do you hope viewers will take away from the video, an underlying message, if any?
I hope viewers will embrace themselves and regain their respect for women, and regain the strength of their African-ness. I think we are at a battle with our blackness and we shouldnât be.Â
Are there plans to further the project in any way?
There are definitely plans for more but I wonât say too much. I believe the more people you tell the more you take away.
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