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Review
I was a child of the 80s when apartheid had reached its apex. The state police responded with brute force to any sort of protest. The National Government framed it as “violent riots.”
My parents decided on private schooling when I started grade 1. They wanted to protect me against the upheaval. My world was far removed from the reality that thousands of people lived in.
I was unaware at the time. But there were signs. I was one of three pupils of colour in my class. My mother never accompanied me to birthday parties in Constantia and Wynberg. Always drop-off. Pick-up. I’d watch the other mommies laugh and chat, and wonder why she never joined in. When we went on holiday, she’d walk into the “slegs blankes” toilet, and my father into the other.
It was only when I was much older that my grandmother told me how the riot police shot my uncle, still a boy, while boycotting on Thornton Road, Athlone. He died soon after.
We all have stories. Either those we’ve heard from relatives or friends.
I was a child of the 80s. Looking across the packed auditorium, I spotted retired politicians, activists, and local actors; hardly any kid from the 2000s. This bothered me.
For many of the “born-free” generation, the Struggle and apartheid were a blip on the radar. An era written about in history books and on the Day of Reconciliation (December 16). So why the disengagement from a generation that should be lapping this play up with curiosity?
Albie Sachs is an iconic voice of the Struggle. He’s a giant amongst men. He’s Hulk to Nelson Mandela’s ‘Avengers’. His activism transcends borders. Amal and George Clooney named an award after him (‘The Albies’).
The lawyer, activist, and writer was appointed a judge to the first Constitutional Court of South Africa. His books have received widespread praise, namely ‘The Jail Diary of Albie Sachs’ (1966). It chronicles his experiences of solitary confinement and detention without trial by the apartheid security police in 1963.
When Albie walks into the auditorium, dressed in his trademark colourful shirt and Panama hat, alongside his wife Vanessa, we greet him with cheers. He is the reason the room is full, and why we’ve come to watch ‘Albie Sachs: Fathers, Sons and Soft Vengeance.’
Writer Gail Louw and director Fiona Ramsay have brought his 1990 book, ‘The Soft Vengeance of a Freedom Fighter,’ to the Baxter Studio stage. In it, he describes surviving the 1988 car bomb planted by South African security agents in Maputo, Mozambique, leaving him with one arm and a disfigured eye.
The theatre production is a one-man show, with Graham Hopkins portraying the Struggle veteran. The award-winning actor walks, gestures, and articulates Albie’s life for an hour and a half. And for the entire time, we are captivated. Engrossed. Enthralled.
Imagine experiencing a range of emotions in less than two hours? That’s what award-winning theatre actor Graham brings to the character. He adds flesh to the bones of a broken man who survives an attack on his life while driving to the beach. No props. No gimmicks. No dramatic music. Just a white stage lit by soft overhead lights, and photos of Albie, his son Oliver, and his father Solly Sachs.
The scene opens with Graham, then 53-year-old Albie in 1988, talking out loud about his family, mostly his two boys (Alan and Michael). A few seconds later, the car bomb strikes, and he wakes up in a hospital bed in Maputo.
From there, Graham takes on Albie’s persona, from his wry humour to the vulnerable moments of despair. It’s as if Graham has lived Albie’s life. You feel his pain. His anger. His hope. His softness.
The theatre alumni weaves a narrative web so tight, you don’t want him to lose the momentum. He’s taking you on a journey of a man who was held in solitary confinement for a continuous 168 days without trial. A man who lost his arm, partial sight and joy. Albie should be vengeful, his heart spewing hate.
Broken? Yes. Depressed? Yes. Willfully feeling sorry for himself? Yes. However, vengeance is not his agenda. And Graham articulates Albie’s feelings in the most humane, humbling way. He is Albie.
The play doesn’t concentrate on Albie’s Struggle years. It’s a retrospective on how he rejoins the broken pieces, literally. It also shows another side. It shows a father’s vulnerable relationship with his son. Solly and Albie. Albie and Oliver.
Emil Solomon “Solly” Sachs was a South African trade unionist and an anti-apartheid activist. He was a formidable figure during the 1950s. He immigrated to Johannesburg with his Lithuanian Jewish family in 1914.
Albie depicts his dad as a disciplinarian who withheld affection. Their relationship was complicated. Solly always spoke to his son using his full name: “Albert, my boy.”
Oliver Sachs was a laatlammetjie, born in 2006 to Albie and Vanessa. Throughout the latter part of the production, Albie speaks of his lastborn with fondness, sometimes sadness and regret. Oliver’s almost-20-year-old voice rings across the floor from a speaker. He asks his father questions many of our brains cannot fathom.
Funny anecdotes creep in as Oliver questions the education system, inequality and waxes lyrical with his dad about philosophy. We gasp and laugh when hearing about Vanessa locking herself in the bedroom and having an emotional psychedelic trip while under the influence of magic mushrooms. She reasoned that she wanted to experience the same enlightenment as Oliver did when he tried shrooms.
Parenting, no matter your age, is all relative and relatable. That nagging feeling, asking yourself, “Am I doing right by my child?” is always there. With frustration, your son asks why you had them later in life. He asks why you were absent during the wonder years. You tell yourself you never wanted to become your father. And then you did.
It calls for introspection.
That is the crux of ‘Albie Sachs: Fathers, Sons and Soft Vengeance.’
Why book?
This is a story about a man consciously choosing every single day to be someone his children can be proud of. When vengeance is soft, that’s the easy part.
‘Albie Sachs: Fathers, Sons and Soft Vengeance' runs at the Baxter Studio from Tuesday, 13 October to Saturday, 31 October, 2026. Bookings are available via Webtickets.
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