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It’s still a circus out there!

We all have memories of the circus — the cotton candy, the carnival music, the excitement as the lights in the big top dim… But do people still queue for tickets? And what goes on behind the scenes?

It’s Wednesday morning and about half the population of Willowmore, South Africa, has turned out to watch members of Brian Boswell’s Circus prepare for tomorrow’s show. Sheep farmers and school children look on while the steel frame for the big top is assembled.

I ask one of the children why he’s not in school. “Er, the headmaster gave us the day off,” he mumbles and skulks away before I can ask more questions.

Nearby, a man stares intently at 
the lions dozing in their big blue trailer. “I’m here to see those goggas,” he says, and jumps back in fright when one lets out a yawn.

I met up with the circus company in Oudtshoorn yesterday and watched my first show in 15 years. “There’s no business like show business,” blared from the speakers at the Oudtshoorn Show Grounds as candyfloss-eating children, their parents, grandparents and loved-up teenage siblings filed in to see the show. I held my breath as Miss Rita took the lions through their paces, with just a whip between her and some lethal incisors; my jaw dropped when Miss Ola performed her basketball-and-pole balancing act; and I gasped when one of the trapeze artists did a double somersault.

From Oudtshoorn I travelled with the circus company to Willowmore, and I’ll go with them to Graaff-Reinet after tomorrow’s show, where we’ll spend another two days.

I’ve always been fascinated by the circus. What happens when the lights go down and the make-up is wiped off? What drives a person to choose this gypsy life? But if I thought I could get away with being a fly on the wall with my notebook and pen, I was wrong. I’ve been roped in to sell cool drinks with the clowns. Yes, if you ride with the circus, you must work!

Load ’em up

The plastic chairs in the big top are 
still warm when Operation Pack-Up kicks into gear. The tent is taken down, the pancake stall is dismantled, the candyfloss machine is cleaned and the fences for the animal camps are stashed in the trucks.

The circus has 56 full-time employees, of which 20 are performers. The rest are administrative staff, managers and labourers. When the time comes to pack up, though, everyone lends a hand.

It’s hard work: the tent itself weighs about three tonnes, and could keep about 900 people dry in a rain shower. Add three dogs, ten horses, eight lions and two elephants, and you understand why they need all hands on deck.

By 4.30am, the first trucks have already set off. The lions and horses go first so their camps can be erected at the next stop. The elephants wait until last, because they don’t like being cooped up. In the meantime, the shop, ticket office and caravans are hitched to trucks, bakkies and a Kia Sportage with the registration “Circus KZN”.

But that’s not the end of it. The performers can’t just relax between shows. Many of them get behind the wheel. I’m told that when you apply for work at a travelling circus, one of the first questions you’re asked is whether you can drive a truck.

When I arrive in Willowmore, the skeleton of the big top is already a silhouette against the morning sky. They’re setting up on an open field on the edge of town. Even though today is set aside for rest, the field looks like the beach at Normandy. Municipal workers scurry around to ensure that water and power are available, and circus workers hammer steel tent pegs into the ground.

Sparks fly as someone grinds down the corner posts. The lion camp is almost up and a small crowd has assembled to watch. Someone asks, “Where are the snakes?” But this year Brian’s show has no slithery acts. By lunchtime, things start to quieten down. The circus staff wash dishes, hang laundry, feed pets, rig up portable DS TV dishes and light a campfire. Maybe now is a good time to find out more about these nomads.

“We’re like one big family and we’re very protective of each other,” Georgina Boswell, Brian’s daughter, warned me earlier. “We don’t really let outsiders in.”

The lion tamer from Berlin

Georgina was once the circus’s resident lion tamer, but Rita Labahn took over when Georgina became a mom. I run into Miss Rita, as she is known, outside her Jurgens Exclusive caravan next to the lion camp. She’s wearing a black bikini top and denim shorts and is rinsing out coffee mugs.

She tells me she’s originally from Berlin, Germany, and she ended up in the circus by accident, 12 years ago, while working as a dancer. She was approached by a man who asked if she would be interested in joining a circus and doing an animal act. “I thought I would work with horses or dogs, but the circus boss had other ideas,” she says, laughing. “Ideas involving tigers…”

Rita got the job at Brian Boswell’s Circus a year ago through an erstwhile colleague in Germany. “He told me he knew of a great place to work, where it’s more relaxed than Europe and a little warmer.”

I say goodbye to Rita and continue my walk through the camp. Stanley Bower, also known as Carlo the White Clown, is smoking a cigarette on the step of his caravan. His two Jack Russells rush up to greet me. Age has caught up with him, Stanley says; he used to be a trapeze artist. It’s still evident in his muscular build.

As a boy growing up in the former Rhodesia, he dreamt of joining the circus. His parents thought it was just a passing phase, until Stanley ran away from home. “My folks caught up with me at the Beit Bridge Border Post,” he says with a chuckle. All parties finally reached a compromise, and Stanley was sent to circus school when he turned 16.

Under pressure

The big top goes up surprisingly quickly once the frame is in place. The stands are erected, the sound system is rigged up, and in four hours the circus is ready for business.

Jane Boswell, Brian’s wife, keeps an eye on the progress of the arena because she wants to warm up the horses. Jane is responsible for the animals, Georgina looks after the staff, and Brian makes sure everything comes together.

It’s a logistical juggling act to keep 
a circus running: work permits, vehicle and animal licences, precautions 
for foot-and-mouth disease, food for animals and staff, advertising... Add 
to this the possibility of bad weather, 
the depressed economy, pressure to 
stop using animals in shows, soaring diesel prices and shrinking public 
spaces (some years the circus is greeted by a shopping mall where there was an open field previously) — and it’s clear that the Boswells have quite a challenge on their hands.

Despite all this, Georgina thinks there’s a future in the circus. “We’ll be around for a while to come,” she says. “Remember, the circus survived two world wars! Travelling takes us to 
fresh audiences. It makes us mysterious. We come and go, and it keeps people interested... Many people in Willowmore will never get the chance to travel 
anywhere. Where else will they see a lion? Our prices are reasonable. We offer traditional family entertainment, something you don’t get much of any more.”

It’s 6.30pm and half the seats have been filled. The big top smells like cinnamon pancakes, candyfloss and elephant dung, depending on where you stand. Behind the tent everyone is in a rush to get ready. Performers who aren’t on right away — like Quasi the Clown — sell cool drinks from the shop trailer. Ivan Meyer, who performs with the dogs, bakes pancakes.

The line-up is always the same: first the lions, because they perform in a cage that has to be taken down afterwards, then the jugglers and clowns and horses and trapeze artists.

After the intermission, it’s time for Miss Ola’s balancing act, then the elephants, then more clowns and finally the tightrope act. Part of the circus’s success is that the acts are short and punchy, lasting just long enough to keep you riveted.

I sneak a glance at my fellow audience members — the children never take their eyes off the ring.

When three acrobats form a human pyramid and walk the tightrope, the kids peek through their fingers, like they’re scared they’ll never see anything like this again.

The show must go on

The 170 km road from Willowmore to Graaff-Reinet is straight as a die. Jacques Deru is giving me a lift in his truck, which is towing the shop trailer.

It’s 10am and this is the second time Big Jacques (to distinguish him from Little Jacques and Medium Jacques) is driving the route today.

Jacques is currently the ringmaster, but he has plans to perform in the Globe of Death later in the year — it’s a motorbike stunt show in a spherical metal cage. He tells me he’s originally from Jo’burg and he has tried his hand at many things, including security, flying helicopters and cabinet-making.

He has been part of the circus on-and-off for the past three years. “The first time, I left because of the salary,” he says. “But the circus is a funny thing — it pulls you back like a magnet. It’s the lifestyle, the travel. I know money isn’t everything, but sometimes I miss it. I once had a house on the Vaal Dam, and a jet ski and a Jacuzzi.”

Today is another travel-and-rest day, but as usual there is work to be done. The horses have to be groomed, the elephant camp and ticket office have to be set up and the lions must be fed — they’re quite partial to whole chickens.

The next day is my last day with the circus. It’s stiflingly hot and I’m watching the show for the third time, yet I still find it entertaining.

I go back to what passes for a normal life now, but for the circus the mantra remains: the show must go on.

I think back to what Stanley Bower told me the other day: “As long as people are interested, as long as we remain captivating, we’ll be okay.”

A Short History of the Boswells

James Clements Boswell set sail from Britain in 1911 with his family, six ponies, a donkey and a pack of dogs, with plans to join Fillis’ Circus in South Africa. When the circus closed down shortly after their arrival, the Boswells established their own.

By 1942, two of James’s sons were running the circus, along with their nephew, Stanley Boswell. In 1962, Brian Boswell, one of Stanley’s sons, joined them. Around 1963, the older Boswells sold their shares to African Theatres, which approached WH Wilkie with the idea of merging the two circus companies. This new company was called the Boswell-Wilkie Circus, even though the Boswell family wasn’t involved any more.

When the Chipperfield Circus from England toured South Africa in 1964, Brian acted as advisor and ringmaster. It was during this time that he met Jane Stockley, whom he later married.

In 1982, Brian started his own circus — Brian’s Circus — and in 2001 this became Brian Boswell’s Circus, after the demise of the Boswell-Wilkie brand.

These days, Brian manages the 
circus with his wife Jane and his daughter Georgina.

(Source — The Boswells: The Story 
of a South African Circus by 
Charles Ricketts.)