Abstract
Beneath Thami Cele’s right eye there is a scar that blends into his weathered face like a natural crease. Only when you see him face-to-face do you notice it. On a stark stage that for 90 minutes is a South African jail, it would be very difficult for anyone in the audience to see the scar beyond the imaginary prison walls. Cele’s infectious gap-toothed smile spreads as far back as the last row. But in the darkened theatre, only his four other cell-mates who sweat under the same bright lights and share their stories can see the scar.
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