This is the sixth of my voice acting dialect series!
This is a Afrikaans (South African) dialect. The monologue used is spoken by Playwright in 'Exits and Entrances' by Athol Fugard.
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"You know Andre, that phrase you used…’your own people’…that is exactly what is wrong with our theatre – with this whole damned country for that matter. Because as far as I’m concerned, the people of the slums are also ‘my people’. I can’t pretend they don’t exist. They’re out there and as much a part of my world as you, or my wife or the unborn child she is carrying or my dying father. I rub shoulders with them every day of my life – in my home when old Maria comes to clean up our mess, the beggars on the pavements. They’re not invisible you know. In some ways their world is even more real for me than the white one I live in. I would have stayed on in London and kept knocking on doors if it hadn’t been for a front-page picture in the Evening Standard. It’s pasted into my notebook. If you look very carefully you can count twelve bodies in it, though of course there were sixty-nine all told. Sharpeville. Just lying there on the ground, all of them face down in the dirt. They were running away when the police opened fire on a peaceful protest against the tyranny of those Dom Books. That did it! There’s no way I could stay in London after that."
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            This is a Afrikaans (South African) dialect. The monologue used is spoken by Playwright in 'Exits and Entrances' by Athol Fugard.
*************
"You know Andre, that phrase you used…’your own people’…that is exactly what is wrong with our theatre – with this whole damned country for that matter. Because as far as I’m concerned, the people of the slums are also ‘my people’. I can’t pretend they don’t exist. They’re out there and as much a part of my world as you, or my wife or the unborn child she is carrying or my dying father. I rub shoulders with them every day of my life – in my home when old Maria comes to clean up our mess, the beggars on the pavements. They’re not invisible you know. In some ways their world is even more real for me than the white one I live in. I would have stayed on in London and kept knocking on doors if it hadn’t been for a front-page picture in the Evening Standard. It’s pasted into my notebook. If you look very carefully you can count twelve bodies in it, though of course there were sixty-nine all told. Sharpeville. Just lying there on the ground, all of them face down in the dirt. They were running away when the police opened fire on a peaceful protest against the tyranny of those Dom Books. That did it! There’s no way I could stay in London after that."
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Category Music / Human
                    Species Unspecified / Any
                    Size 120 x 90px
                    File Size 9.04 MB
                
 FA+
                            
                                
                                
                                
                                
                                
                                
            
            
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