One of the most amazing experiences of my life was getting to work for two months in South Africa, where I co-produced two documentaries and did some radio production training. I was incredibly lucky. It happened because a good friend believed in the project so much that he got it funded by two US grants and sponsored by the Institute for Democracy in South Africa (IDASA).
The radio programs were about specific aspects of life under apartheid, which had ended only the year before. (Nelson Mandela’s presidential palace was across the street from our office.) The work-pace was frantic as we traveled around Cape Town and its townships gathering interviews and weaving the painful recollections into a single audio story—all in about a month. It wasn’t enough time.
I won’t keep rambling on about these amazing weeks, except to say that I never ceased to be amazed by the openness of spirit of the South African people I met and that we interviewed: not only their willingness to talk to us about incomprehensible suffering, but to allow me—an outsider—to listen
This first program is about the forced removals under the Group Areas Act, which resulted in black South Africans, “coloureds,” Indians and others being driven from their homes so that whites could take over the area.
Two of my newly met colleagues, Sue Valentine and Siviwe Minyi, became dear friends, and thirteen years later I miss them as strongly as ever. The three of us co-produced this. It was broadcast by the South African Broadcasting Corporation, and also in the US, as I recall.
I’ve never been so domestic as during the last three days: baking, baking, baking, all day long, reel after reel of tape. My fruit dehydrator/jerky maker lets me cook five at a time. Once it’s back at room temperature, I dub the tape from my Otari directly to my computer.
What shall I serve you today? Here’s one that amused me last night when I found it, a short feature about a wine-tasting competition. During the event I remember partaking excessively of the product in question. Very unprofessional. The piece aired on All Things Considered in around 1984, methinks.
Today has been Bake-a-Tape Day. I bought and tested two convection ovens and a fruit dryer. The former will go back to the store because they cook too hot, but the dehydrator seems to be doing the trick, albeit erratically. (I need to find one with a fan.) I successfully baked away the sticky shed syndrome from two of three tapes. (The third is still screeching and dragging, so it’s back in the cooker.)
I am so excited—I haven’t heard these programs for twenty-five years and thought I might never hear them again. And you know something? I was pretty funny back then. I never realized that till now.
You know something else? Listening to this stuff has begun to illuminate how essential it is that I get back to doing creative stuff for work. I spent today researching grants for the project I want to do. Sadly, all I found were brick walls.
Anyway, here’s a newly baked piece. It’s about personal ads, a fairly unaccepted social phenomenon at the time (around ‘83). Little did we know what lay around the corner with the vast and lucrative online dating industry. This program still cracks me up, and I can still quote from memory the poem that you’ll hear:
Whatever space is your location, what is important is communication..
(This was before four-tracks, so the mixes are a little funky.)
