I recently found out that Imbawula Trust is celebrating 10 years of its existence this year. first thing I thought was: “wow! Its been that long?” and : “How long have I been with this?”.
The journey has been wonderful. The journey has been fulfilling. It has been a once in a lifetime journey that I have been privileged to share with the activists that have shared their light with Imbawula. I joined Imbawula when I went to Fire on the Mountain 3…or as it was known…F.O.M3.
I went down to Cape Town in a bus after waiting for a day in Newtown for it to arrive. We built friendships. We built partnerships. We built future plans sitting waiting for Faya. It was here that I met half the people who are in my life, the people I go out with, the people I hold close and the people I usually hang with.
My whole life…actually, about 10 years was written while we waited for the bus. As much as everyone was hungry, tired and exhausted; we kept hope alive because we believed in the new and the promise that is Faya. I was a little artist hoping to sell something at the festival. I sold nothing. I went in alone, scared…not knowing who I would meet or the experience I would have. The only sure person I knew was T-mac (known each other since Primary school and down the street in the hood). With hope and youth I had no idea where I was going and what I would be doing.
The bus took its time…and whilst we sat waiting: more people came. More people asked what was happening, ran home and packed their bags. More people went to buy “liks”. We sat on the platform of the old train station in Newtown behind Kippies and the Market Theater, some slept and some took regular walks.
When the bus arrived: people were anxious, wanted to get passed the list, people shoved for a piece of the faya. The youths were hungry for a revolution of a different kind.
We were children of the revolution and we took a step towards revolution…
After many stops at garages and breaks to stretch our legs out…it was daybreak and the festival had begun. We were just wiping the sleep from our eyes into the Cape. Friendships were forged, crews met crews, artists met artists…bonds bigger than word were created.
As we came around the mountain…There was a fire on the mountain. Everyone looked at each other and the mountain: We knew this was the beginning of a chapter of our lives that fate had orchestrated.
Fire on the mountain gave us a reason to keep forging, writing, filming, graffing, skating, painting, creating, spitting…we were the generation of Faya.
looking at park jams for new talent
heading to swaziland for some cultural interventions