Dignity Matters

THE EXIT INTERVIEW with Nik Rabinowitz, much-loved South African stand-up comedian, actor, author, TV presenter, and podcast host, known and admired for his multilingual comedy and social commentary.

If calories and indigestion were no object, what culinary indulgence would be your last?

The last thing you taste before meeting your maker should be something that makes you question if meeting your maker is really necessary, which is why I’d kick off with a 5g magic mushroom starter, followed by six hours of dimensional time travel, then an oyster or twelve, one crayfish tail, my mother’s guinea fowl casserole, and a slice of Lucie Rie’s chocolate tort. That’s the circle of life right there – you start by seeing God and finish by tasting heaven.

Ideally, how would you like to go?

At home, in my sleep, surrounded by loved ones. But let’s be honest, that’s the brochure version of death. As a stand-up comedian, I’ve died on stage plenty times, so my second choice would be “work-related heart attack”, aged 97, while MCing the Highlands House Jewish Retirement Home Bingo Night. … The laughter is explosive. As my arteries close up shop, I think: “I may be dying, but I’m also absolutely killing it.” BOOM! I drop the mic. BANG! I drop dead. And THAT gets the BIGGEST LAUGH of the night. The ultimate punchline.

In what publication would your obituary appear, and what would its glorious and slightly exaggerated but still somewhat truthful headline, be?

In my dreams, the front page of The New York Times reads: ”COMEDIAN TOUCHED HEARTS, UNITED HUMANITY, USHERED IN WORLD PEACE;” Realistically? The Cape Times, page 17, wedged between a Checkers ad and a Kalk Bay Roadworks Notice. It’s only in the Cape Times because (before her death) my mother paid for a full-page ad with the Headline: “COMEDIAN DIES: JEWISH MOTHER CONFIRMS HE COULD HAVE BEEN A DOCTOR” (I’d appreciate it if the Cape Times would also accidentally run a photo of Marc Lottering instead of me.) The Daily Voice, meanwhile, must please go with: “SNAAKSE MAN KICKS BUCKET: Was it murder???” with absolutely no evidence suggesting foul play whatsoever. The Jewish Report headline would be: “BELOVED COMEDIAN PASSES: COMMUNITY ASKS, BUT WAS HE REALLY THAT JEWISH?”

Imagine your memorial service. What kind of music would be playing? What band or artist would be grateful for the opportunity to perform?

At the traditional Jewish funeral, Cantor Choni Goldman will deliver his haunting, ancient melodies. At the memorial Choni will team up with Don Copley and The Khayelitsha Klezmer Band (doesn’t exist but hopefully will by then) to perform “Nkalakatha” on clarinets and violins, while everyone awkwardly tries Zulu dance moves while keeping their yarmulkes on. I would be bringing South African cultures together, even in death! Alan Committie and Rob van Vuuren will then perform a Waldorf Eurythmy-inspired interpretive dance eulogy, accompanied by Aunty Merle Abrahams on piano. Next up, the Cape Town Philharmonic team up with Aron Turest- Schwartz, Karen Zoid, and Zolani Mahola for a stirring rendition of Monty Python’s “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life”. For the finalé, Johnny Clegg performs “Osiyeza” from beyond the grave via hologram.

Burial or cremation? And – if transport, permissions, and expense were no problem – where would you like to be buried, or have your ashes scattered?

For the sake of one-stop grief shopping, I’d like to be buried next to my dad, but that’s probably not going to happen, because my gran’s ashes are in the plot reserved for my mom, who wants to be next to my dad. It’s complicated.

If you could choose one object to be buried or cremated with, what would it be and why?

I’d like to be buried with the Gray Nicholls cricket bat I came closest to scoring a century with. The bat represents my peak athletic achievement. I remember leaning on that bat, in the middle of the Claremont Oval, on 96 not out, thinking, “This is it, Nik. This is your moment. This is when you become a legend.” And then… ninety-six not out became just... ninety-six. Four runs short of a century. FOUR! (There’s some controversy about this dismissal as well, from a predictable source – Ed.) Some people’s lives are defined by their marriages, their careers, and their children. Mine is defined by those four missing runs. If there’s any justice in the universe, I’ll get those four runs added to my cosmic scorecard. Then, and only then, will my soul finally be at peace. Unless, of course, they ask me to open the batting in heaven. With Dale Steyn steaming in from the Pearly End.

If you were to haunt somewhere after your demise, where would it be, and why?

The Baxter Theatre would be high on my list. After decades of performing there, I deserve squatter’s rights in the afterlife. Surfer’s Corner in Muizenberg would also be an obvious choice, because it’s already filled with people having near-death experiences. I’ve had at least two there.

Who’s in your will? And is there anything you’re leaving that might cause a fight?

For now, my will states that everything goes to my wife (I think)... which is the most married-man statement ever. My jokes go to any comedian who promises to use them better than I did. It’s like a comedic organ donation – “These punchlines are still viable! Quick, transplant them into someone with better delivery!” My Desmond Tutu impression, however, will be buried with me. Some things are too risky to pass on in today’s climate.

What do you still need to do before you kick the bucket?

I found an old bucket list on my phone. There’s the adventure section, your classic middle-class bucket list items that scream ”I want experiences that look good as Facebook cover photos!” I’ve also listed “achieve a 2-3 minute breath hold” for free- diving purposes, although my personal best remains 38 seconds, achieved while hiding from my children during lockdown. In between the adventures and hallucinations, there are the heartfelt items: publishing a book on my dad’s ceramics career, building an off-grid mountain retreat cob-house, and visiting my grandfather’s village in Lithuania. Oh, and assisting our housekeeper, Nosipho, in launching her own restaurant. Because nothing says “I’m a good person” like helping someone escape the torture of having to clean up after my family. The truth is, what I need to do before I kick the bucket is accept that I probably won’t do most of these things. And that’s okay. Because the real bucket list items – the ones that matter – are the quiet moments with my family, the special times shared with friends, the times I made strangers laugh out loud.

Finally, is there anything about death that you’ve always secretly wondered about, but have been too polite to ask?

I’ve got a LOT of questions: Does our life flash before our eyes? And if so, is it like Netflix, where you can skip the intro, or more like those unskippable YouTube ads? Because there are chunks I’d like to fast-forward through. I wonder about the whole tunnel and lights experience. Apparently, my father-in-law got it, but only because he was an avowed atheist. According to my favourite psychic rabbi, not everyone gets it, which seems unfair. It’s like some people get the full afterlife IMAX 3D experience, and others get the straight-to-DVD release. “Where’s my tunnel?” “Sorry bra, budget cuts. Best we can do is a slightly bright cupboard with a Consol solar jar that hasn’t been charged properly.” I’d also like to know why interacting with the living is as hard as mediums claim? They always sound so dramatic. “I’m getting... a message... from someone... whose name has letters in it...” Why does it seem almost impossible for the dead to give their loved ones signs they’re not completely gone? Is the human dissociative barrier so strong that most of us just can’t receive the messages? Is the cosmic Wi-Fi that bad? Are there spiritual regulations? Finally, will I get to meet God / the Divine / the Great Mysterious Benevolent Force / that which cannot be named? Perhaps they’ll check my blue scorebook and say, “Eish, 96 not out?” What will their pronouns be? Will they have a South African accent? Will they ask questions like “How you, boet, you well? Ja no, you weren’t exactly what we were going for with humans, but hey, you tried, hey? Anyways, how’s the Afterlife treating you? You keeping busy?”