8/5/97
Katz
'n'
jammin'
kidz
Katz
&
Cohen.
Not
a
law
firm,
a
two-man
Knesset
faction,
or
a
plumbing
company.
Not
even
Israeli,
in
fact.
Sharon
Katz
and
Marilyn
Cohen
are
demolition
experts
-
demolition
of
racial
arrogance
in
South
Africa.
Sharon
is
the
marquee
star
of
the
duo,
a
Durban
resident
who
helped
counter
apartheid
through
music.
Marilyn,
a
transplanted
South
African
originally
from
Philadelphia,
is
her
manager
and
unabashed
admirer.
“She's
the
Pied
Piper
of
Peace,”
Marilyn
enthused.
They
were
here
to
investigate
bringing
their
good
vibes
to
Israel,
and
to
visit
family
-
Sharon's
sister
is
in
Mevasseret
Zion,
her
brother
in
Ma'agan
Michael,
and
her
parents
live
in
Ra'anana.
“I'd
say
we
had
incredibly
powerful
influence,”
Sharon
said
reflectively,
without
a
hint
of
hype.
“During
the
time
all
the
changes
were
taking
place,
in
1992,
I
brought
together
500
kids
of
all
different
backgrounds
and
races
-
black,
white,
Indian,
and
the
designation
'colored.'
Jewish
kids
as
well.
With
a
band
that
I
had
put
together,
I
taught
them
to
sing
and
dance
in
each
other's
traditions
and
cultures,
and
helped
break
down
this
whole
apartheid
thing.
We
put
on
a
performance
that
was
nationally
televised.
“I
wanted
to
show
we
can
have
democracy
in
South
Africa.
That
was
the
theme,
that
we
can
all
live
together.
Response
was
so
great
that
we
decided
to
take
it
by
train
around
South
Africa.”
That
idea
launched
her
to
national
reknown.
“Sharon
Katz
&
the
Peace
Train”
performed
a
whistle-stop
tour
of
the
country,
setting
up
concerts
at
eight
or
10
train
stations
along
the
way.
“It
was
really
amazing:
150
people
living
on
the
train
together,
people
from
all
across
the
color
line.
From
a
spiritual
point
of
view,
we
made
our
mark.”
The
Katz
Kidz
performed
for
Nelson
Mandela
throughout
the
election
period
and
many
times
after
he
was
elected.
“When
I
met
him
the
first
time,
he
told
me
that
what
we
are
doing
embodied
the
non-racial
democracy
he
was
intending
to
establish
in
South
Africa.
Mandela
loved
the
Peace
Train.”
“Sharon
was
imbued
with
the
values
-
loving
your
neighbor
and
fighting
oppression
-
because
she
was
in
the
Habonim
youth
movement
in
Port
Elizabeth,”
Marilyn
said.
“She
started
sneaking
out
to
the
black
townships
when
she
was
15,
illegally.
She
taught
herself
to
play
African-style
guitar,
and
taught
herself
some
of
the
languages.”
Sharon
has
the
youngsters
singing
in
each
other's
lingos
-
and
in
Hebrew.
“The
kids
love
'Hinei
Ma
Tov.'
And
now
I'm
teaching
them
'Shir
Leshalom'.”
Her
troupe
is
now
35-strong,
youths
aged
10
to
20,
with
a
10-piece
Afro-rock-jazz
band.
“We'd
love
to
bring
the
Peace
Train
here,”
Sharon
said
wistfully.
“Israel
is
very
close
to
my
heart
and
we
have
a
common
history
with
the
black
people.
There's
a
lot
of
affinity
between
us.
Three
years
ago
I
came
with
one
of
my
black
singing
partners
and
we
did
quite
an
extensive
tour
in
Israel.
Israelis
are
mad
about
this
kind
of
music.
They'd
love
the
Peace
Train.”
Sharon,
40,
and
Marilyn,
46,
won
the
support
of
the
Israeli
ambassador
and
the
Foreign
and
Tourism
Ministries
to
bring
their
tour
here
in
1995,
but
the
plans
collapsed
because
of
lack
of
funding.
They're
not
giving
up.
“We're
working
on
a
Cape-to-Cairo
Peace
Train
Tour,
the
length
of
Africa.
If
we
can
get
to
Cairo,
we
should
be
able
to
get
to
Israel.”
We
can
still
get
to
hear
them,
even
if
no
one
finds
a
way
to
stage
their
performance.
“In
addition
to
our
own
album,
‘Crystal
Journey,’
which
we
released
last
year,
we
were
invited
to
submit
a
song
to
a
compilation
album
released
worldwide
just
yesterday
[April
30].
It's
called
Carnival
'97,
and
we're
on
it
with
Sting,
Pavarotti,
Madonna
and
Elton
John.”
Big
stuff
-
but
Sharon
and
Marilyn
are
more
excited
about
the
little
successes.
“All
the
kids
come
from
very
difficult
backgrounds,
they're
all
victims
of
poverty
and
many
don't
have
their
own
families,”
Sharon
said.
“But
they've
been
transformed
by
this.”
Marilyn
recalled
her
friend's
forays
into
isolated,
dirt-poor
rural
communities.
“Sharon
was
the
first
white
person
many
of
these
kids
had
seen;
I'm
sure
they
thought
she
was
a
ghost
at
first.”
Sharon
plucked
120
of
them
from
one
wretched
place
to
join
her
initial
500-
voice
concert.
“The
kids
didn't
know
what
a
stage
was.
They'd
never
been
anywhere
with
electricity.
At
the
concert
hall,
when
the
stage
lights
were
turned
on,
their
mouths
just
hung
open.
Sharon
was
trying
to
get
them
to
sing,
and
we
sort
of
had
to
push
their
chins
up.
Then
the
other
kids
came,
and
they
found
themselves
standing
next
to
a
white
kid
on
one
side,
an
Indian
kid
on
another.
Kids
being
kids,
they
were
curious,
not
hostile.
They
took
to
each
other,
showing
each
other
the
dance
steps,
hugging
each
other,
giggling
and
holding
hands.
Magic.”
Marilyn
said
she
gets
goosebumps
when
she
thinks
of
one
incident.
“In
'92,
we
were
with
a
group
of
people
in
this
one
township
where
there'd
been
a
considerable
amount
of
violence.
Suddenly
a
group
of
about
10
or
15
youths
burst
in.
One
of
them
had
what
later
turned
out
to
be
a
toy
gun.
Sharon
and
I
were
the
only
whites
around.
He
gave
us
a
really
angry
look
and
he's
got
this
AK-47
in
one
hand
and
a
rock
in
another,
and
I'm
holding
my
breath
figuring,
this
is
it.
But
because
Sharon's
not
only
an
incredible
musician
but
a
music
therapist,
she
looks
him
in
the
eye
and
begins
to
play
her
guitar
to
him.
He
stops
in
his
tracks
and
listens,
and
then
she
motions
to
him
with
her
guitar
that
he
should
turn
his
AK-47
around
and
strum
it.
And
the
kid
does
it.
“Then
she
goes
over
to
him,
takes
her
guitar
off
her
neck
and
puts
it
around
his,
and
starts
to
teach
him
to
play.
His
hostile
look
turns
into
an
ear-to-ear
grin,
and
within
minutes
there's
a
line
of
kids
waiting
for
their
turn
to
play
music.
These
boys
were
rough
-
but
she
converted
gang
members
into
band
members.
It
was
an
amazing
moment.
“It's
the
kind
of
magic
I've
seen
her
do
across
the
country.”
