The comedy sensei

Kurt Schoonraad talks about his comedy night, Jou Ma Se Comedy Club

“The first person to ever tell me I was funny was my childhood best friend,” says Kurt Schoonraad. “Was he blind and deaf?” chimes in Mark Palmer. “No,” answers Kurt, “he was imaginary.”

This conversation is going on in the bar; I’m sitting in-between the two stand up comics. A rather dangerous place, considering I always try to sit in the back, lest the comedian decides to engage with me.

We’re at Jou Ma Se Comedy Club in Observatory at The River Club and it’s 20 minutes or so to the start of the show. It takes place every Thursday, and Kurt tailor makes a line-up that includes up-and-coming comics as well as headliners.

Being a stand up comic has to be one of the bravest professions. “And the most stressful,” Kurt adds. “I read in an online poll that after commercial pilots; it’s the most stressful job you can have.”

Comics, just like us ordinary folk, also have to go to work when they’re not feeling up to it—and they have to be funny too. “I’m often not in the mood,” says Kurt. “But that feeling only lasts until I get the first laugh. Ironically those are normally the best gigs.”

“Giving up your laughter is one of the most personal things you can do,” he says sagely. He’s right. Not guarded polite laughter, but genuine from-the-belly mirth, is the biggest compliment a comic can get.

Holding up a mirror

When I bring up the use of props in comedy, I see a flash of defiance in Kurt’s eyes. “We don’t use props,” he says. “That’s crossing over into theatre. In stand up it’s just you, the mic and the audience, that’s it. There’s no barrier, no mask to hide behind.

“It’s a brutal game, comedy,” he continues. "Some comics never make it past the open mic stage, and they’ve been doing it for years. To be a headliner you need to be able to carry the audience for at least an hour. You either have it or you don’t. That’s why I’m passionate about using this club as a platform for amateur comics as well as more established ones.”

The bar is buzzing. Filling up quickly, people are streaming into the comedy area.  But before I take my place I ask Kurt about the ‘future for funny in South Africa’. “Well,” he says, “the election for one—we’re guaranteed another term of funny. I don’t do politics—they shouldn’t do comedy.”

The role of a comedian as a social commentator is often overlooked, but is arguably one the most important functions. “We hold a mirror up to society. What you talk about at your braai, we speak about publicly.”

Mark Palmer is the host tonight; a seasoned performer he has the audience laughing in no time. Next up is support act, Mumz, who has the audience hooting and hollering at his routine. Followed by Liam Bento, on open mic; his topical, self deprecating act is lapped up by the crowd. Then it’s time for headliner, Siv Ngesi, larger than life, he commands the crowd’s attention. His comedy is furious, fast-paced, electric, and oh-so-very clever.

We leave the club pumped, excited, talking. The acts, like good comedy should, got us thinking, talking and engaging. Much, much better than a night spent in front of the TV.

By Malu Lambert

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