It’s a Monday night in Johannesburg, the time when comedy sessions typically take place at Cocktail on Six, in the Melville neighbourhood. The club is divided into two rooms: one for patrons to relax and wash away the day's worries, the other a designated space for comedy shows.
In the second room, the first act of the night is Suhayl Essa. As he takes the stage it's visibly obvious he hasn't performed in front of a crowd for a while. He leisurely paces the stage back and forth to take the temperature of the room.
His comedy routine leads with his heritage and how there is a limitation in career choices: “When you are Indian, you either become a doctor or a mobile phone and electronics vendor,” says Essa in one of his punchlines.
Before pursuing comedy as a profession, Essa practiced medicine. He also grew up in a politically conscious household run by activists in the coastal KwaZulu-Natal province.
Like with Essa, South Africa's brand of comedy feeds off the country's tumultuous, racial past. This trend saw the post-apartheid comedy scene galvanise around the country's complex identity politics.
Pioneers such as David Kau, Kagiso Lediga, Joey Rasdien and Ronnie Modimola went on to develop it beyond stand up and into various mainstream television formats, notably the Pure Monate Show.
Personal touch
But Essa's generation has taken the baton to add on an extra layer where realpolitik co-exists with personal stories. At its core, this is pegged to a prevailing storm of global themes such as gender inequality, cancel culture and mental wellness, among others.
At Monday Comedy Nights, the extension of this zeitgeist also manifests itself through a slew of female comics whose routines tell of how they are navigating comedy and the world at large.
A comic's life is perpetually centred around performance. Between working out material in small clubs and big arenas, the impetus is to connect with a reciprocal audience whose energy determines whether a joke lands or not.
In South Africa, the years 2020 and 2021 disrupted this ritual between comics and audiences because of Covid pandemic that saw many venues shut down.
The entire industry – composed of talent and promoters – was in a tailspin due to strict lockdowns. But in the wake of relaxed restrictions in 2022, the industry is rebuilding from the ground up.
Versatility
Like most entertainers who garner hype with an online presence in the name of personal brand building, comics too are multi-platform creatures. This trait inevitably peaked during the height of Covid-19 lockdowns.
The result? They created podcasts and Youtube channels to maintain a semblance of activity and keep their captive audiences entertained.
Such is the case for Essa, who started with simple social media like Facebook and Instagram, then moved over to YouTube and more recently Tik Tok.
“Ten or 20 years ago, comedians focused on other forms of media to get their name out there,” he says, adding that nowadays comics “live in a time when people are the most distracted, so you gotta be in their face all the time."
Purveyors of comedy can fall into a situation where they are performing 24/7, which becomes problematic in the long run.
“Is it sustainable as a long-term lifestyle? You see a lot of people coming out of the back end of the 'influencer sausage factory' pretty damaged,” says cultural commentator Andrew Miller.
“The challenge for all creative types and for comics is that your life becomes the performance if you gonna do the online, the offline, the reality show, etc.”
Behind the scenes
In the throes of finding its feet again, the business of laughter owes a lot to work done behind the scenes.
Monday Comedy Night is one such event where organisational aspects such as publicity and bookings are run by the duo of Gavin Kelly and Emile Alexander. Both believe that the culture has to be kept alive at all costs.
“We are literally building the industry with our bare hands right now,” Kelly tells the Africa Calling podcast.
As the local comedy ecosystem gears itself up for a re-awakening from a two-year slumber, each part of the machinery from comics to the audience and organisers agrees the scene is alive and well.
We are laughing again.
This was originally heard on RFI's Africa Calling podcast.
