‘I wanted them to realize we are busy with a little Nazism here. Look, apartheid is absolutely immoral. You can’t justify it on any level, except that of cheap labour.’

That Die Brandstigters in 1978 was intended as a pointed critique of white South Africans at a critical juncture in the Struggle is evident from interviews with those involved in the production, from its reception history, and from the text itself. It was meant to achieve this without the irreverent ‘Nachspiel’, which, as I have already argued, can be read in the Afrikaans translation as a wholesale condemnation of apartheid. This decision wasn’t Scholtz’s or Fourie’s, or any one of the CAPAB committees, for that matter. In 1978 Frisch was still not allowing the ‘Nachspiel’ to be performed. Yet even without it, the Afrikaans text can be read as an attempt to disrupt the unthinking, unseeing attitude of many whites even while the country was in flames.

Scholtz’s translation is motivated by a mix of foreignizing and domesticating strategies. An example of the former is his translation of ‘Heil uns!’ as ‘Heil ons!’.3 Frisch, Stücke 2, 119; Frisch, Die Brandstigters, scene III:9. With its evocation of Nazi Germany, Frisch’s ‘praise be to us’ can be read as a satirical comment on the dangers of complacency and the risk of falling prey to destructive ideologies. While its use in Die Brandstigters places the events on stage in an unmistakeably foreign context, a parallel can also be found, for those who are looking for it, between Nazi Germany and apartheid South Africa. Indeed, this is a powerful reminder that foreignizing a translation can be the strongest intervention of all into a domestic context, capable of challenging the status quo and throwing unexpected connections into relief.

Certainly by 1978, Die Brandstigters needed very little domesticating for it to evoke the South African situation in which the state had control over nearly all aspects of society. ‘Die Staat sorg vir alles!’ (‘The State looks after everything!’), Schmitz exclaims. ‘Daar is nie meer mense nie […] Daarom gaan die wêreld na sy peetjie—daarom!’ (‘There aren’t humans anymore […] that’s why the world is going down the drain—that’s why!’).4 Frisch, Die Brandstigters, scene II:6. Unlike Rita Elferink and Marie van der Merwe in 1962, Scholtz translated Frisch’s ‘Wenn das kein Polizeistaat ist!’ (‘If it isn’t a police state!’) word for word, in the process reflecting contemporary South African society.5 Frisch, Stücke 2, 132; Frisch, Die Brandstigters, scene IV:7. For more information on policing in apartheid South Africa, see Brewer, Black and Blue Policing.

Similarly, the nightmarish banquet at the end of the play contained a ready-made message for Afrikaans audiences. In a moment of on-stage theatricality, Schmitz impersonates the ghost of Knechtling, Biedermann’s former employee. ‘Idioot!’, Eisenring chastises his fellow-arsonist for his bad taste. Then he points out, tongue in cheek, ‘Terwyl jy weet dat Knechtling sy kop in ’n gasoond gesteek het nadat Gottlieb alles vir hom gedoen het wat hy kon. Veertien jaar vir hom werk gegee, vir hierdie Knechtling, en dis nou die dank wat hy kry’ (‘When you know that Knechtling put his head in a gas oven after our Gottlieb did for him what he could. Fourteen years he gave him work, this Knechtling, and this is the thanks he gets’).6 Frisch, Die Brandstigters, scene VI:11. In this moment, it becomes clear that the events in the play are Biedermann’s just reward for exploiting the labour of his fellow-man, just as the violent protests that had rocked South Africa and would rock it again were but the logical outcome of the country’s exploitative and racist economic underpinnings since colonial times.

Scholtz’s domesticating choices further amplify the play’s local relevance. At one point, Schmitz reports that ‘Holzwolle’ (‘wood shavings’) is unobtainable, explaining: ‘Beschlagnahmt. Polizeilich. Vorsichtsmaßname’ (‘Seized. Police. Precautionary measure’).7 Frisch, Stücke 2, 139. Whereas Elferink and Van der Merwe had, in 1962, translated ‘Vorsichtsmaßname’ literally as ‘voorsorgmaatreëls’ (‘precautionary measures’), Scholtz opted for term ‘veiligheidsmaatreëls’ (‘security measures’).8 Frisch, ‘Jan Alleman’, scene 5:36; Frisch, Die Brandstigters, scene V:3. Encompassing a broad range of legal measures and actions intended to protect state security, the apartheid state’s so-called Veiligheidsmaatreëls frequently involved suppressing opposition or dissent from black South Africans. Another example is Scholtz’s equivalent for the nursery rhyme ‘Fuchs, du hast die Gans gestohlen’ (‘Fox, you’ve stolen the goose’). An invented nonsensical song that evokes all the chaos and danger of the Soweto Uprising and its aftermath, Scholtz’s version includes the phrases ‘die heining aan die brand, die duiwel in die land met sy dinges in die hand’ (‘The fence burning, the devil in the country with his thingamajig [penis] in his hand’).9 Frisch, Die Brandstigters, scene VI:11.

The text that made it to the stage of the Nico Malan was not Scholtz’s alone. Along with directorial notes and sound and lighting cues, the surviving script also contains pencilled-in alterations, presumed to have been made by Fourie who directed the production. Taking a closer look at Scholtz’s translation means taking this input into consideration as well.

Many of the changes are directed at Scholtz’s more literal translations to make the text more fluent. Scholtz had translated Frisch’s ‘Nur keine Aufregung’ (‘Just don’t make a fuss’) as ‘Nou net geen drukte nie’ (‘Now only no fuss’).10 Frisch, Stücke 2, 143; Frisch, Die Brandstigters, scene VI:4. Subsequently, this was changed to ‘Kalm, kalm’ (‘Calm, calm’). Similarly, his ‘Kan ons?’ (‘Can we’) for Frisch’s ‘Können wir’ (‘Can we’) was altered to ‘Is ons gereed?’ (‘Are we ready’).11 Frisch, Stücke 2, 148; Frisch, Die Brandstigters, scene VI:8.

Other interventions pointedly transplant the events in the play onto South African soil. Scholtz had translated Frisch’s ‘Vaterstadt’ (‘father city’) as ‘vaderstad’ (‘father city’), for example; subsequently, this was changed to ‘moederstad’ (‘mother city’), evoking Cape Town’s famous nickname.12 Frisch, Stücke 2, 102; Frisch, Die Brandstigters, scene I:12. Another example occurs near the end of the play when the distant sound of sirens announces a fire. ‘Wo kann das nur sein?’ (‘Where could it possibly be?’), Babette asks, and Eisenring responds: ‘Wo der Föhn herkommt’ (‘Where the Föhn comes from’), denoting the strategic position of the arsonists’ existing fire.13 Frisch, Stücke 2, 151.

Scholtz had translated Frisch’s ‘Föhn’ as ‘Suidoos’ – a domesticating choice that references Cape Town’s famous South-Easter.14 Frisch, Die Brandstigters, scene VI:12. The reasons why this was later replaced with ‘Noordewind’ become clearer when one considers the ‘berg wind’ of the South African interior: a hot, dry wind that blows into Cape Town from the north or northeast toward the coast. Meteorologically, it is the local equivalent of the Swiss Föhn – a phenomenon associated with sudden warmth and the risk of fire. In the political climate of 1978, that scorching northerly wind also served as an apt metaphor for the ‘winds of change’ beginning to singe South Africa.

Yet the most striking aspect of Scholtz’s translation is his handling of the firemen’s chorus, sections that contain minimal alterations. Like Elferink and Van der Merwe, Scholtz sought to imitate Frisch’s dactylic meter. Yet he took a greater measure of metric freedom to accommodate Afrikaans syntax. The German ‘Feuerwehrgleich’ (‘fire brigade-like’), was mistranslated by Elferink and Van der Merwe as the unwieldy ‘brandweer ten spyt’ (‘the fire brigade notwithstanding’). Scholtz opted for the much clearer phrase ‘ook deur brandweer’ (‘also by the fire brigade’).15 Frisch, Stücke 2, 121; Frisch, ‘Jan Alleman’, scene 3:18; Frisch, Die Brandstigters, scene III:11. Similarly, ‘nimmerzulöschende’ (‘never-to-be-extinguished’), translated by Elferink and Van der Merwe as ‘nimmergeblusde’ (‘never-extinguished’), was rendered simply as ‘’n vuur nou onblusbaar’ (‘a fire now inextinguishable’).16 Frisch, Stücke 2, 156; Frisch, ‘Jan Alleman’, scene 6:52; Frisch, Die Brandstigters, scene VI:17.

Frisch’s stylistic choices keep the firemen at something of a remove, not only in the German text, but also in the first Afrikaans translation. As I noted in Chapter 1, their speech evokes the unwieldy, impersonal language of the state. In their omnipresent readiness to put out smouldering fires before it is too late, Elferink and Van der Merwe’s firemen recall the much-feared Special Branch.

The effect of the chorus in Scholtz’s translation is quite different. Though their speech is still more formal than that of the individual characters, it is idiomatic and accessible, its meaning clear. Unlike Schiess’s chorus, who wore robes and traditional firemen’s hats, Fourie’s chorus appeared on stage with identical, expressionless masks. In his review, W. E. G. Louw – the brother of N. P. van Wyk Louw, a leading newspaper critic, and a poet himself – wrote that this aspect of Fourie’s production was handled particularly well, with the chorus effectively conveying ‘the reactions and fears of the spectators’.17 ‘die reaksies en vrese van die toeskouers’. W. E. G. Louw, ‘Die Brandstigters in die Nico Malan: Knap opvoering – vir ons land en tyd’, Die Burger, 7 April 1978. On paper, at least, their words read like a sincere plea for thoughtful action in the face of impending calamity. Remembering Hector Pieterson and the image of his lifeless body reproduced around the world, the chorus leader’s warning in the third act – against turning a blind eye to what is in plain sight and viewing the world only through the pages of a newspaper – resonates especially poignantly:

In the same scene, the chorus leader confronts Biedermann about the drums of petrol in his house, asking: ‘Wissend auch du, wie brennbar die Welt ist, Biedermann Gottlieb, was hast du gedacht?’ (‘Knowing, you too, how flammable the world is, Biedermann Gottlieb, what were you thinking?’).19 Frisch, Stücke 2, 122. In Scholtz’s translation, there is a shift from ‘the’ to ‘our’ in the line, ‘Wel wetend hoe brandbaar ons wêreld, Biedermann Gottlieb, wat het jy gedink?’ (‘Well knowing how flammable our world, Biedermann Gottlieb, what were you thinking?’).20 Frisch, Die Brandstigters, scene III:12. It is in moments like this that Scholtz’s firemen gain particular power, acting not as observers of an unfolding disaster, but as committed insiders trying to change the course of their own history. Perhaps, then, like Scholtz himself, they embody a form of ‘loyal resistance.’

In casting their warnings into simple Afrikaans, Scholtz rendered his chorus uniquely able to convey the power of individual human agency in changing the course of ‘fate’. Early on, they warn: ‘Nooit mag die noodlot die skuld dra/ vir als wat gebeur – / selfs die ergste, onblusbaar’ (‘Never may fate carry the guilt/ for all that happens – / even the worst, unextinguishable’).21 Frisch, Die Brandstigters, prologue, 2. In adhering closely to Frisch’s German in the first Afrikaans version, Elferink and Van der Merwe had all but obscured this message in their odd word choices and awkward syntax: ‘Hy’t nie verdien/ noodlot te heet nie, slegs om wat gebeur het:/ Die onsin / wat nooit uitgewis weer kan word.’ (He didn’t deserve/ to be called fate, only for what happened:/ The nonsense/ that cannot ever be wiped out again’).22 Frisch, ‘Jan Alleman’, 1. Yet, despite the clarity of the message in Scholtz’s translation, it is another matter whether anyone in his audience heeded the warning to take individual responsibility for the course South Africa was taking.