Transcriber: Tonia David
Reviewer: Hélène Vernet
(Xhosa) Molweni nonke.
Well, I'm from South Africa,
where I grew up speaking
the languages of course.
When we greet one another,
if I greet everyone here,
I'd say "Molweni",
but if I'm greeting a single person
I would say "molo", you know.
So now, if I say "Molweni",
you will respond "Molo".
Now let's try: molweni.
(Audience) Molo.
Well, that's the power of listening.
Well, try this one.
(Khoisan language) ...
(Laughter)
(Applause)
Well, we can work on that one later on.
But first, let me tell you where I'm from.
I grew up in a township outside Hermanus.
When I was four years old,
my father left my family.
He left behind a CD of Pavarotti singing.
All I had of my father was this one CD
and so, I listened to it all the time.
I didn't understand the Italian lyrics,
but I knew I loved the music.
I would play and stop
the CD again and again,
until I managed to teach myself
the music and the lyrics.
I saw my father one more
time before he died.
Well, this music is my connection to him.
It could become my connection
to the whole world.
When I was about nine years old,
I got my friends together,
and I taught them how to sing
the same way I had taught myself.
I used what you might call 
"unusual teaching methods".
(Laughter)
I told them, "Shout as high as you can
and remember that feeling.
It is vibrato, and you do
that all the time."
(Demo)
Something like that, you name it, yes.
(Applause) (Cheers)
We would sing for the tourists
in town in Hermanus.
We would take the money we earned
and help our parents,
and pay the fares
from Hermanus to the township,
buy food, obviously.
Well, it's the way
we were living life that time.
In Hermanus, in the town,
the government stopped us to sing.
There was a time I decided,
"You know what?
I won't give up. I'll go to Cape Town."
I went to Cape Town.
I started singing at the waterfront,
and there we earn enough
money to help our family.
So I'd make money
and send money to my mother.
Because I was three hours
away from my mother,
I wasn't with her
when she died from HIV/AIDS.
That was the time when everything
in my life seems to fall apart.
My uncle was stabbed to death.
My little sister died. My aunt died.
My grandmother died
when I was sitting on her lap.
I dropped out of high school
and I joined a gang.
It was very hard. I know it was very hard.
I joined the gang,
and I began to think
about everything I once had,
and it wasn't easy.
So when I was in Cape Town,
I wanted to go back to Hermanus
as soon as I heard my mum passed away,
but I didn't know
where to start, you know.
But I always had
the music keeping me going.
Well, there was this one gentleman 
who once heard me sing.
He decided to make a tape recording
for me, a demo, you know.
So, the night before the recording,
I tried to stop a fight
and I was stabbed in my face
with a broken bottle,
from my temple down to my throat.
Well, when that happens 
the first thing that came to my mind
is, "Remember, you've got nothing."
And I had nothing.
I did nothing, my voice
was gone and all that.
And then I began to think
about everything that I had once had,
and I began to value them.
(Sigh)
And then, I made up my mind:
if I ever got my voice back,
I'd make a better use of my talent.
I started recovering slowly,
and I forgot about the gang life behind.
I put it behind; everything
that is nasty, I put it behind.
I focused on the music,
and I started recovering.
And then, we started singing
in the township, me and my friends,
you know, while violence
continued all around us.
We focused our energy
on the power of music.
Here is a clip showing it,
from the documentary "The Creators".
Video: (Singing)
This man, Mthetho,
he was the one who showed me
how to sing, when we were small.
He wasn't an experienced singer,
but he tried his best
to teach me how to sing.
♫ (Napolitan) Ma n'atu sole
[But another sun]
♫ (Chorus) cchiù bello, oje ne'.
[that’s brighter still]
♫ O sole mio
[It’s my own sun]
♫ sta 'nfronte a te!
[that's on your face.]
♫ (Solo) O sole
♫ O sole mio
♫ Sta 'nfronte a te!
♫ Sta 'nfronte a te!
♫ (Chorus) O sole
♫ O sole mio
♫ Sta 'nfronte a te!
♫ Sta 'nfronte a te!
(Applause)
Thank you.
These two singers I was singing with there
are my best friend, Seweye and Gululego.
Like me, most of my friends in my township
dropped out of high school.
Some have lost their parents,
and some have been living rough.
Others had simply seen
that those who had graduated
were unable to find jobs
and unable to afford college,
likely, if they were paid an equivalent
of 2 USD an hour picking up garbage.
I knew I could do better than that.
I knew they can do better than that.
So I got together with my friends.
We formed the group called "Six Tenors".
We would rehearse at home,
and when we sang
on the streets in the township,
we were uplifted far
beyond the limits of poverty.
In the wealthy part of Cape Town,
we developed
relationships with restaurants
who let us sing for their patrons
sitting at the tables outside.
We had no formal training,
but we loved the music.
We sang not only for money, but for unity.
Some people who had
seen me sing on the streets
or had seen me sing on the documentary,
helped me with loans,
handouts, voice lessons.
If it wasn't for them,
I could not have pursued my dream 
of becoming a professional singer.
But I knew, for this dream to become true,
I needed a formal training.
And I knew where I wanted
to receive this training.
Fortunately, I did not know
how unlikely a 23-year-old township kid
with a gang background,
a gash down his face,
and with little education
will be accepted in the
legendary music program.
This last December, a jazz musician,
that man I will never forget,
helped me to buy a plane ticket
to Pretoria, the capital of South Africa.
There, I auditioned
into "The Black Tie Ensemble".
It was the chance of my lifetime.
I was very, very, very nervous,
but luckily I was accepted.
And now, I am not only
receiving voice training,
I'm also receiving training into
reading music in the languages of opera.
I'm trying to develop my study habits.
(Laughter)
Going from living in the streets
to school habits, school
schedule, it is not easy.
Trust me it is not easy,
but I know I can make it.
This picture is a picture of me
and the students in my class,
at "The Black Tie Ensemble".
It was taken by the director
on his cell phone.
I asked myself how I got here from there.
I think because music
is natural to me.
It is part of who I am.
As a kid,
it gave me something,
and it comforted me.
As I was growing up,
it gave me something to share.
When I joined the gang,
I lost touch with who I was.
But finally, I was listening 
to what my own nature was telling me.
Thank you very much.
(Applause) (Cheers)
Thank you.
