Of Prayer and Pride: Zubayr Charles’ 'Please, don’t call me moffie'

-Ashley Allard

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The scene opens, the stage dark; a figure, embalmed in a blue hue, asleep on a table, idly scrolling on a phone. Behind him, a washing line: pyjamas, a turtle neck, booty shorts, workout clothes, a thobe, a prayer mat — a timeline, the significance is yet to be revealed. Immediately, Zubayr Charles’ exceptional creative talent is showcased.

A poet, writer, playwright and journalist, Charles further claimed his space in South Africa’s creative scene with his new one-man play, Please, don't call me moffie, shown at this year’s Suidoosterfees.

Please, don’t call me moffie features five different characters, all performed by the incredible Anzio September, who manages to switch personas with remarkable ease. September plays five Queer Islamic men, all of which are grappling with the tension between their faith and sexuality. Some have succeeded in finding equilibrium, others have let orthodoxy win, while one, in particular, is entirely and utterly haunted by guilt.

Charles gives a voice to a demographic often silenced or made invisible in South African media: The Queer, Cape Malay/Coloured Muslim man. Conscious of this gap in the cultural narrative, Please, don’t call me moffie presents Charles’ commentary through five different voices and five different archetypes. Queer archetypes have the potential to be damaging, however, Charles navigates this with precision, utilising each archetype to subvert Queer stereotypes.

September demonstrates his remarkable range throughout the play, jumping from workout gear and weights to booty shorts and death drops to thobe and taqiyya. These swift costume changes are made possible through the intelligent use of a washing line in the background, laden with the different costumes. As the clothes come and go and a new character’s background and religious trauma are unveiled, the prayer mat, the final object on the washing line, acts as a haunting element of tension: How can this possibly end?

The play centres itself around Mushfeeq, who wakes from a nightmare where, because of his sexuality, his corpse — along with his friends — is not allowed entry into the mosque to have the final funeral rites performed. His fears are only then reaffirmed when one of his friends shares a video of a Queer Arabic couple being tortured while a voice-over repeats Al Lutiyah Muharama fie al Islam (to be a deviant is forbidden in Islam). Screams and whip cracks echo in the background.

This video appears throughout the performance, playing off the phone of each character. Each responds differently, allowing the characters to reflect with the audience on their relationship with Islam and their sexuality, whether repressed or embraced. The slur, jarringly placed in the play’s title, appears frequently throughout. Each character has a certain memory of it; and it is hostile, violent, deadly. The slur is hurtled across the stage, nestled between pleas for help, sombre anecdotes, and tinted nostalgia. The comma, situated comfortably in the title, perfectly encapsulates the play: a prayer, a simple, desperate request.

Zubayr Charles and Anzio September

Zubayr Charles’ directorial aptitude is proven in this masterpiece, the mis-en-scene perfectly executed. Red light floods the stage in moments of extreme tension, thick as blood. Although this play utilises several props, each is crucial to the character and the plot. September is the perfect choice for this role, alternating seamlessly from hilarious to haunting. He embodies each role, giving (and sometimes showing) his all.

A poignant exploration of a demographic often misrepresented and ignored, Please, don’t call me moffie, is a definite must-see. It is a theatrical masterpiece, and had tears trickling down cheeks during its well-deserved standing ovation. Zubayr Charles further showcases his incredible talent as a creator, and it is terribly exciting to see what he will come up with next. Anzio September is a name to look out for, a promising rising star in the Cape acting scene. If you are unable to catch September’s performance in Please, don’t call me moffie, he has obtained leading roles in this year’s productions of Aladdin: The Musical, and this bra’s a psycho. Please, don’t call me moffie is a necessary reckoning, while Charles and September are a remarkable duo, creating art that is guaranteed to start many crucial conversations.