So the past couple of days were a little crazy. I had a migraine that lasted two days and some publicity stuff to do in the hopes of keeping the numbers rolling. I can tell you this, bostarra bo fedile, go a nyewa boss! (Rough translation: Playing big is over, shit is real.) 

So let’s catch you up shall we?

Day 7: Interesting show for me. I did a daytime fringe thing which was like pulling teeth. The kind of gig where you want to give the organizer their money back because the experience was that excruciating LOL! I have not felt myself die in 5 years and there I was getting a distant feeling I had forgotten, one of drowning in the deep end. So you can imagine my surprise when a seasoned comic invited me to come play in his club and gave me his number! I stepped outside swimming in ‘woe is me’ and a kid came and told me he enjoyed my set – even told me which gag he liked the most! I hugged him. (But not before checking with his mother that this was alright and not considered inappropriate) I was even asked for a flyer, that floored me. I don’t know audiences, clearly. I need to learn to read between the lines. However, it didn’t leave me feeling like I’m about to have a banging show…if anything I ran back to my flat to rework some stuff. And work on a script since I was on a tight deadline. And that, ladies and gents,was the beginning of my two day long tension headache.

Showtime rolled around. I was so focussed on keeping it tight and punchy for 60 minutes that I had no idea whether I was having a good time or not. I was just working hard. I was also reading the hell out of my audience, connecting here and there and getting that “signal lost” feeling while making mental notes to rework those gags as best I can. Three quarters of the room seemed to be with me, the rest seemed to be watching national geographic. It was a rather…Oh “performed” show for me. I wasn’t myself.

I decided to go and have comfort food after my show, hoping the food would ease my headache as well. I went to this quaint Italian place that makes such soulful wholesome food. I sat there had the Number 9, (which I learnt was created by the shop owner’s son with whom I happen to share a birthday!) I decided there and then, that shall be my culinary home after work.

Day 8:

 

I had a breakfast commitment for which I was late as my flatmate (The great, the amazing, the famous, the actually quite a nice guy, Mr. Loyiso Gola) and I got lost and couldn’t find the email with the exact address LOL! Had a meeting straight afterwards with some of the key members of the team that brought me here and got some assurance that I was doing OK, no need for panic stations ( or as I call it “Is it time to show my tits). I felt better. They get great feedback from audience, I guess that counts for something. Bless them they didn’t mention if I had any bad reviews yet, but I shall always treasure silence as it allows you to enjoy blissful ignorance.

Later I got to be  part of a BBC panel speaking about where to draw the line in comedy. I’ve always believed nowhere, but this conversation left me thinking, it all depends on your own moral compass, and your chosen audience. Soon after that I felt like I actually do have enough brains to appeal to the sensibility of any audience, i really should just sell my truth. I headed off to my show with a new spring in my step.  And after 8,7km of walking, my body was abuzz with endorphins.

I burnt that stage up, had one of those shows where you are like: Lord PLEASE let there be a reviewer in here tonight! I recognized myself every step of the way, I held the audience’s hand when I felt them retreat and never had to call them back again, we felt safe in each other’s presence. It was poetic. I went off on a tangent, came back, had fun, took off my shoes and man did we giggle and guffaw. A lady came and hugged me so hard afterward, despite my sweat and I took that hug in. She couldn’t stop laughing. I was near tears. Even my technical guy was blown away. It was awesome. Truly. I owned that show. I went home feeling like for the 2nd time, Tumi Morake emerged from the shell of the insecure Edinburgh freshman.

Night 9:

How to come down from a high 101. LOL! Fantastic show, maintained a lot of the cheek and unapologetic roughness of the previous night, but I worked too hard. I really did. I began to have fun halfway through the show when I realized I hadn’t really made eye contact with half the room, and moved over to them to give love, and they gave it back. There was a gentleman in the room who had the most beautiful booming laugh I loved him so much. And a lovely guy in the front as well, who I think is a performer himself, who just lolled from start to finish. Polite laughter and oh no she didn’t laughter for days. I had fun. It was in no way the previous night’s wild romp, but it certainly was honest, concise and peppered with moments of real interaction. 

Honestly, if I do not leave this festival sharper, more discerning of audience and more skilled at my craft then I should walk away from comedy because this is an experience second to none. I will emerge on the other side ready to play the world. And be better than average. I am Tumi Morake bitch, how could I forget that?!?

And I got to hang with The Soil. The coolest new kids on the block.