Last night, my mom and I found ourselves in the hushed darkness of the Market Theatre for the opening of Empatheatre's "The Last Country." I loved it. Straight-up, one of the cast members, Faniswa Yisa, is among my most cherished friends. We studied together and even shared a humble home in Woodstock years ago, so I'm biased. Despite this, her destiny as a powerful presence on stage is undeniably mythical in nature, so this isn't a review. This is a story.
And stories, I've come to believe, are our salvation.
A Safe Space to Feel
You must see this play. Not just because its message about migrant women in South Africa demands your awareness, but because watching it will likely affect you as it did me. Amid the noise of my generic busy week, something magical happened in that theatre — I felt something. The alchemy of masterful storytelling swept away the cobwebs from my neglected heartstrings, leaving them clean and resounding. My empathy and compassion emerged full-tilt, and it felt gloriously good.
Our reality of constant chaos, danger, and suffering, means we often pull on detachment like a necessary raincoat in an endless monsoon season. We disassociate to avoid drowning in our feelings for others. But sometimes, the universe places you somewhere safe — like a theatre auditorium — and whispers, "Here you go... It's safe here. Now you can feel. It's okay. You'll be fine."
And you do feel. You come alive again. And you wonder why it feels so unsafe to do this all the time.
Finding Myself in Others
As a middle-aged gay white man in marketing, I might seem to have little in common with displaced migrant women fleeing conflict and poverty across Africa to seek refuge in South Africa. Before watching the play, I was aware of their existence, of course. I could summon the same distant concern I maintain for all disenfranchised beings on our planet — but in that sanitised way where real people become abstract concepts, filed away in the vast "people suffering" folder on the desktop of my consciousness.
This is what great stories change. A well-told narrative cracks open the shell of apathy and overwhelm, exposing the human beings at the kernel of these circumstances. Producer and Co-founder of Empatheatre, Sociologist, Dr. Dylan McGarry, describes this production as a work “…that is love made visible”, that it “brings audiences into a shared active empathy”, and I agree wholeheartedly.
I saw these women through their stories, and my heart reached toward them. I related to them. Life is difficult for all of us, even those with cushions of comfort. In fact, those of us with abundance in a country where most have so little often meet our own hardships with shame and guilt. How can we validate our pain when the suffering visible through our SUV windows makes our troubles seem trivial by comparison?
But theatre creates a space where you can honour both — your own feelings alongside your compassion for others facing even greater challenges. You can feel. You can feel all of it.
When Opinions Divide, Stories Connect
Years ago, I attended a workshop hosted by Triangle Project in Cape Town. The facilitator, a gay white Jewish South African therapist living in New York, profoundly changed my perspective that day.
Our diverse group first shared opinions about contentious topics. Predictably, tempers flared, division erupted, and distrust clouded the room like smoke. Later, however, he instructed us to share stories related to our opinions - but not the opinions themselves. Just stories.
Everything changed.
We didn't all change our minds, but suddenly we could understand why people held their views without hating them for it. This revelation has stayed with me.
Social media, news, and social gatherings typically feature people spouting opinions, with allies nodding along while dissenters withdraw or distance themselves. Opinions divide us. Stories, however, bring us together — awakening compassion, highlighting our shared humanity, and kindling relatability.
The Miracle of Empathy
Through "The Last Country," I witnessed this miracle unfold. The production features the stories of Ofrah from the DRC, MaThwala from KwaZulu-Natal, Aamiina from Somalia, and Aneni from Zimbabwe. Each narrative wove together experiences of struggle, pain, humour, hope, and resilience in ways that illuminated our common humanity.
This award-winning play, created by the Empatheatre team, co-written by Neil Coppen and Mpume Mthombeni, and directed by Neil Coppen, has already touched countless lives across KwaZulu-Natal. Now featuring an all-star cast that includes Mpume Mthombeni, Faniswa Yisa, Andile Vilakazi, and Nompilo Maphumulo, it has arrived at the Market Theatre as part of their Africa Month programming.
The script, based on thirty oral histories of migrant women, emerged from the "Migration, Gender and the Inclusive City" research project led by Dr. Kira Erwin. What began as academic research has transformed into a powerful vehicle for human connection. Research come to life - as stories.
Forums, debates, exposés, and political rallying all have their place, but they rarely foster social cohesion or achieve the greatest possible outcome for the most people. Stories, however, work miracles. They allow us to see someone from an entirely different background with the same consideration we give our own reflection.
Through "The Last Country," I was reminded that in the end, my opinions are not important. They don't have to define me. And I don't have to define others by their opinions either. It is the narrative that I must remember to consider and contemplate. That's where we can all find one another, where we are all just characters, fibres in the same complex tapestry being woven together. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
"The Last Country" runs at The Market Theatre from May 15 - June 1, 2025.
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