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They all can fly

South Africa's Zip Zap Circus works to end racial segregation and foster trust, dedication and teamwork.

His insight inspired Poni to join the prison choir and gumboot dance troupe. After he was released two years ago, he founded a volunteer organization that provides projects for unemployed people in Khayelitsha. "Everything I am today, I owe to Brent and Laurence," he says.

Back at O.R. Tambo Hall, Andile Poni is doing duty as ringmaster. Decked out in a bright red suit, he talks between the acts about respect (the Aretha Franklin hit rings out) and imagination (John Lennon's "Imagine" plays), alternating between English and Xhosa. The room is filled with thousands of children, mothers and chaperones, most from Khayelitsha.

Onstage with the professional-track Zip Zap kids are their HIV-positive friends from Khayelitsha's clinics. They're still fumbling a bit, but that doesn't detract from the fun. The show's message is clear: AIDS is nothing to be ashamed of, and it should never be a reason to exclude people.

Pamela Sidinana, 32, sitting next to me, concurs. She contracted HIV 11 years ago after being raped. She has come to the circus with her two young sons and a group of HIV-positive children. Pointing to the stage, where the performers, now dressed as wild animals, are enthusiastically executing an act, she says, "Look. Those kids handle it so well. Some of them have been raped, but look at the guts and self-confidence they radiate."

After the show, I ask Sidinana's sons who their favourites were. They look shyly at the floor. Their mother pokes them. Softly, they say, "The girls who flew through the air."

Fred de Vries is a freelance journalist living in Johannesburg, South Africa.

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