Trends in Twenty-First Century

African Theatre and Performance

Themes in Theatre
Collective Approaches
to Theatre and Performance

Series Editor:
Peter G.F. Eversmann

Editorial Board:
Temple Hauptfleisch
Hans van Maanen
Robin Nelson
 Trends in Twenty-First Century
African Theatre and Performance

Edited by
Kene Igweonu

Foreword by
Temple Hauptfleisch

IFTR/FIRT
African Theatre and Performance Working Group

Amsterdam - New York, NY 2011

Official Publication of the International Federation for Theatre Research/
Publication Officielle de la Fédération Internationale pour la Recherche
de Théâtre

Cover photo courtesy of Tshwane University of Technology South Africa,

photograph by Janine Lewis.

Cover design: Pier Post

The paper on which this book is printed meets the requirements of “ISO
9706:1994, Information and documentation - Paper for documents -
Requirements for permanence”.

ISBN: 978-90-420-3386-3
E-Book ISBN: 978-94-012-0082-0
©Editions Rodopi B.V., Amsterdam - New York, NY 2011
Printed in the Netherlands
TABLE OF CONTENTS

Acknowledgements 9

Foreword 11
TEMPLE HAUPTFLEISCH

Striding Out: Emergent Trends in Twenty-First Century

African Theatre and Performance 17
KENE IGWEONU

PART I
GENERAL TRENDS IN THEATRE AND
PERFORMANCE STUDIES
1. The Dilemma of the African Body as a Site of
Performance in the Context of Western Training 35
SAMUEL RAVENGAI

2. Interculturalism Revisited: Identity Construction in

African and African-Caribbean Performance 61
KENE IGWEONU

3. Beyond the Miracle: Trends in South African

Theatre and Performance after 1994 85
JOHANN VAN HEERDEN

4. Transformation and the Drama Studies Curriculum

in South Africa: A Survey of Selected Universities 113
PATRICK EBEWO

5. The Tall Tale of Tall Horse: The Illusion (or

Manifestation) of African Cultural and Traditional
Aesthetics in Hybrid Performances 139
PETRUS DU PREEZ
6. From Trance Dance to PaR: Theatre and Performance
Studies in South Africa 171
TEMPLE HAUPTFLEISCH

PART II
APPLIED/COMMUNITY THEATRE AND
PERFORMANCE
7. Theatre in/for Development in Tanzania:
A Neoliberal Nightmare 191
VICENSIA SHULE

8. A Voice in the Teeth of Power: Popular Theatre under

the Censorship Radar in Zimbabwe (1998-2008) 217
PRAISE ZENENGA

9. Citizens’ Stories – or Theatre as Performing

Citizenship in Zimbabwe 243
VIBEKE GLØRSTAD

10. Towards a Politically Efficacious

Community-Based Theatre 263
OLA JOHANSSON

11. Dance Movement Analysis as Psycho-Diagnostic

Tool in Modern Nigerian Medical Practice: An
Introduction 291
GLADYS IJEOMA AKUNNA

PART III
PLAYWRIGHTS AND PERFORMANCE
12. Treading Subtly on Volatile Ground: Ahmed Yerima’s
Hard Ground and the Dramatization of the Niger Delta
Crisis in Nigeria 305
OSITA EZENWANEBE
13. Drama as an Analytical Tool of Contemporary
Society: Ahmed Yerima’s Hard Ground and the
Politics of the Niger Delta 325
ADEBISI ADEMAKINWA

14. Theatre-on-Demand: Stella Oyedepo – Theatrical

Megastar of the Twenty-First Century 341
NGOZI UDENGWU

15. Abibigoro: Mohamed Ben Abdallah’s Search for an

African Aesthetic in the Theatre 367
AWO MANA ASIEDU

16. African Dance in Diaspora: The Examples of

Nigerian Yoruba bàtá and dùndún 385
JELEEL O. OJUADE

17. Celebration as Aesthetic Device in Contemporary

Nigerian Dance Productions: Hubert Ogunde’s
Destiny as Example 407
CHRIS UGOLO

18. ‘Piecing Together a Girlhood’: Using the ‘Girlfriend

Aesthetic’ as a Practical Methodology in the Making
and Performance of Katuntu (…and you too) 419
ALUDE MAHALI

Abstracts 443

A Selected Bibliography of African Theatre (1990-2011) 461

Notes on Contributors 469

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thanks to the authors and the many people who contributed to this
publication by sharing their ideas and time. Without you this project
would not have come to fruition. I am equally grateful to all the
members of the African Theatre and Performance Working Group
whose support and generosity of feedback and debate have been
crucial to this work. I cannot mention everyone by name, but your
presence permeates this book.
Special thanks to Edwin Hees for assisting with the copy editing
of this book, and to Temple Hauptfleisch for facilitating that process.
Finally, I am grateful for the permission to adapt and reproduce
the following articles as chapters in this book:

CHAPTER 2: Adapted from Kene Igweonu, “Re/Negotiating

Interculturalism: Africa in Caribbean Dance Performances”, African
Performance Review, Volume 2 (2&3): 103–124 (2008) © African
Theatre Association, published by Adonis & Abbey Publishers,
reproduced with permission.

CHAPTER 6: Adapted from Temple Hauptfleisch, “Tipping Points

in the History of Academic Theatre and Performance Studies in
South Africa”, Theatre Research International, Volume 35 (3): 275–
287 (2010) © International Federation for Theatre Research,
published by Cambridge University Press, reproduced with
permission.

CHAPTER10: Adapted from Ola Johansson, “The Limits of

Community-Based Theatre: Performance and HIV Prevention in
Tanzania”, TDR/The Drama Review, Volume 54 (1) T205: 59-75
(Spring 2010) © New York University and the Massachusetts
Institute of Technology, reproduced with permission.
FOREWORD
TEMPLE HAUPTFLEISCH

A large proportion of the literature on Africa over the centuries has

relied on an interesting assumption, one that I think needs to be
challenged far more than it often is. I have come to think of it as the
“Africa conundrum”, that unquestioning belief that somehow there is,
there must be, a (single, indivisible) entity called “Africa” – and
arising from that, a definable, recognisable and somehow unique
quality one might refer to as “Africanness”, which can somehow be
recognised, measured, described, evaluated and even reproduced.
A somewhat fallacious belief, if you come to think about it –
particularly in the light of the following statistics:

Africa is the world’s second-largest continent, after Asia, in size

and population. It consists of 58 different countries, ranging from
the tropics to some of the largest and driest deserts in the world.
In 2009 it had a population 991,002,342 people, which can be
subdivided into hundreds of ethnic groups – each generally
having its own language, or dialect of a language , and its own
distinctive cultural, social, political, economic and value
systems. These groups speak between1,500–2,000 languages,
with possibly as many as 8,000 dialects (plus, of course, the
many colonially imported languages adapted, incorporated,
localised and used by a large number of those countries – which
are now as much part of the continent’s polyglot nature as are the
“original” languages). The continent is host to a large percentage
of the world’s religions, a range of political, economic and other
systems, some of them home-grown, many of them imported
(and then absorbed and “naturalised”) over the course of the
centuries.

Clearly Africa is not one coherent and monolithic entity or system at

all (beyond being a single and very large continent), but a complex,
polysystemic amalgam of many political, linguistic, social, cultural
and economic sub-systems. And what is true of the African continent
as a whole is equally true of its sub-regions, and even – to greater or
lesser extent – each of the 58 countries that currently go to make up
12 TEMPLE HAUPTFLEISCH

the whole geopolitical entity named Africa. Few of those sub-entities

are unicultural by any stretch of the imagination, for most African
countries are unabashedly multicultural and multilingual in
structure.1
Yet, when one steps back a tad and thinks honestly about it, what
do terms such as Asian, American (North American, South
American), Middle Eastern, European or Western actually mean
anyway? Most of them (The Orient or The Middle East, for
example) are simply vague and generalised geographic indicators,
conjured up by planners, writers and politicians in Europe or the
USA in order to talk about the regions beyond their own defined
“reality”. Are these names and the ideas behind them less ambiguous,
or do they actually refer to some kind of homogeneous entity? Surely
not. Therefore we do not – and indeed we cannot – use a term like
European (or any of the others listed above) at all loosely or simply,
for the concept of Europe is itself an ever shifting, ever changing
construct, little more than a broad geographical reference to a
constellation of socio-political and economic entities (which, in their
turn, consist of polysystemic constellations of differing cultural,
social, political and economic sub-systems).2
These are naturally very sensitive and hotly debated issues, not
only about theatre and performance, but about places, peoples,
languages, religions, politics, economics, the arts and everything else.
Yet we do use such terms, even in the title to this particular book.
So, for the purposes of this book and the Working Group, what
then would qualify something as “African”? Perhaps, as Kole
Omotoso pointed out to me, the first thing you must actually ask
yourself is: “What Africa am I talking about?” – what region, socio-
cultural context, what peoples, what forms are we talking about,
comparing and evaluating?
A similar ambiguity applies when we wish to talk of African
theatre, of course: what exactly do we mean then? Is there in fact
such a thing as a distinctive “African” performance? If so, what
would be its unique distinguishing qualities and characteristics?
One of the stock answers in the past has been that the concept of
theatre as we know it is simply a European construct, based on the
European experience – a concept foisted on the continent of Africa in
the colonial period. A continent, by the way, which does not have a
word for theatre in many of its indigenous languages. So the very
notion of theatre becomes a problem as well: once again one may ask
– is this truly so, is there is really one single, identifiable thing
 FOREWORD 13

(system or tradition) which one may call theatre and trust that
everyone understands the same thing by it?
There are, of course, a range of narrow and explicit ‘definitions’
deduced from specific examples (see Aristotle, for instance) and then
utilised to discuss and categorise a specific kind of literary form, one
that has been canonised in the drama histories published in the
countries of Europe and their colonies and allied regions, particularly
over the past century or two. If one were to meticulously compare
even the most canonical plays from the European region (e.g. of
Sophocles, Shakespeare, Lope de Vega, Racine, Moliére, Schiller,
Chekhov, Pirandello, Beckett or Stoppard, for instance), what would
be truly obvious would surely be the differences between the works,
rather than the few similarities in plot, convention and physical
staging practice that one may identify (in some cases). And
inevitably the same would apply if you start looking at the canon of
Asian theatre or North American theatre.
Proceeding from there, if one were then to acknowledge that such
works are but a fragment of the whole range of possible performed
events that may occur every year, then add the vast range of other
performance forms now accepted and studied as part of the larger
canvas of “European performance” – e.g. the numerous oral forms,
the mummery, puppetry, festivals, dance, opera, music hall, cabaret,
the musical, circus and the rest – to our tally of theatrical events, then
the very diversity of it all would be its most distinguishing point of
European (or Western) theatre and performance – as indeed it is, and
has always been, of so-called Asian theatre and African theatre.
In this respect, for example, all the things so often trotted out as
the distinctive and differentiating qualities of theatre in Africa – the
role of ritual, of social engagement, of dance and orality – are most
likely as applicable to so-called “Western theatre” or “Asian theatre”
as they are to “African theatre”. In addition, the methods and
techniques employed may even be the same for all so-called
performance forms – whether called drama, theatre, dance, show
business or performance. Thus the tendency for many Western-
trained academics (myself included) to view the most obvious
general distinctions between regional theatre systems (African and
Western theatre, for instance) as a set of binary opposites (e.g. theatre
as religious ritual as opposed to theatre as art, theatre as social ritual
as opposed to theatre as entertainment, orality versus literacy, text
versus performance, etc.) is perhaps a facile misreading of the history
of performance over the centuries by people who have been trained
14 TEMPLE HAUPTFLEISCH

to look for certain kinds of structures and expecting to find

distinguishing signs of difference – and thus, inevitably, finding what
they are looking for. Perhaps, if such apparent binaries do exist, then
they are not so much binary opposites as two extreme but linked
points on a continuum of meaning.
So, perhaps the difference lies not in the elements, events,
theories or methods themselves, but rather in the culturally shaped
and value-driven interpretations of such particular issues and the
institutions and systems that have been created to drive and maintain
them.
If this is so, it seems obvious that one can only refer to and
discuss the drama, theatre and performance of a region in conceptual
terms (i.e. theatre as a concept – or set of concepts), not as something
concrete and tangible, and can thus only talk about it theoretically
and generically, pointing out its many and divergent characteristics,
and the multitude of possible functions the genre can and does have
in society. But once one considers theatre and performance history, it
is clearly not found in the general theories and definitions, but in the
particulars: the particular play, the particular text, the particular
performance, the particular techniques, the particular theatrical event
– and in the consideration of the particular social, political, cultural,
moral, economic and even academic context of each.
In this regard the problem for African scholars studying theatre
on the continent has not been the nature of performance or the
theatrical event per se, but the ways in which the Western academic
system has conditioned us all to view such an event (despite the best
efforts of radical thinkers and writers such as Turner, Schechner and
others) and the techniques, methodologies, theories and conventions
that have been evolved for doing so and talking about them. In
addition, the publication channels that have evolved for recording
and distributing such research have also become a barrier rather than
a help to some researchers. In other words, our basic training and the
concepts of theatre study and research that such training is based
upon have perhaps made it impossible for us to see beyond our own
academic expectations and conditioning.
This issue became a point of some debate within the working
group (and also features in some of the chapters of this book) and
brings us to a particularly thought-provoking statement by Linda
Tuhiwai Smith3 (1999: 1), who famously stated that “‘research’ is
probably one of the dirtiest words in the indigenous world’s
vocabulary”. A most apposite point, especially when one considers
 FOREWORD 15

the issues raised above, for her statement (and the influential book in
which it appears) refers to the argument that the analytical,
interrogative and narrative strategies we have come to employ (and
take for granted) in our (Western-generated) research have more
often than not been imposed on us by the processes of colonialism
(and by the conventions evolved by the international academic
community, and the academic apparatus to which it gave birth). More
importantly, Smith points out that they still affect the way we do
research and judge our own research outcomes.
So a powerful argument can be (and is often) made that the
principles, theories and methodologies of research should be derived
from our own specific contexts and requirements, and focussed on
the objects we study, rather than being imposed from the outside.
The problem, then, seems to be: how to balance the demands of
our specific research, with the demands of the international academic
community (a community that includes us, here on the African
continent)? The fact is, it its often the world “out there” that we are
trying to access – not only for our own academic and economic
benefit and advancement, but in order to make the world take our arts
and our approach to those arts more seriously. To do so, like it or not,
we at times do have to use the academic channels of communication
of that “other” world, obeying their rules in order to make them
understand our points of view.
This, of course, was one of the core areas we had hoped to probe
and discuss with the research seminars set up by the IFTR working
group, and is in part, I think, where Kene Igweonu and his
colleagues ultimately hope to go with the working group projects.
In this book the context is Africa and the topic is theatre and
performance on the African continent at a particular point in the
history of the region and a particular phase in the evolution of the
field of theatre and performance studies. In this case the problems
outlined above are dealt with as a montage of ideas, presented
through a mosaic of individual and specific articles based on first-
hand experiences by authors primarily living and working on the
African continent. It is, at this point, perhaps the only way it can be
done.
It has been my very great fortune and pleasure over the past four
years to have been involved in the creation of this book in a variety
of ways. From my South African perspective, the experience has
been both informative and enlightening, and the chance to work with
members of the AT&P group, especially during the Stellenbosch
16 TEMPLE HAUPTFLEISCH

workshop in March 2010, not only broadened my perspective

immensely, but forced me to confront a few extremely well
entrenched preconceptions, some of which I have tried to address
above.
The appearance of this book, the first project to be undertaken by
the IFTR’s Working Group on African Theatre and Performance, is
therefore a source of immense joy to me and I believe to the IFTR
executive, for it – like the founding of the group itself – is not only
an important event in the dynamic evolution of the IFTR itself over
the past 15 years or so (see Kene Igweonu’s Introduction), but also a
valuable addition to theatre scholarship in Africa as a whole.
I would like to congratulate Kene and his team for making it
happen and for doing it so well. May this be the first of a series of
explorations of the fascinating world of theatre and performance on
the continent of Africa.

NOTES

1 For example, according to the Wikipedia entry on Nigeria, it is the

most populous country on the continent, has more than 250 ethnic
groups, using 510 living languages, and each group identified with
varying customs.
2 The changing map of Europe over the centuries is an interesting
study in this regard. Nowhere has this flux been more apparent than
in recent years, as we have seen the European Union evolve. The
current list of members of the EU now runs to 27 countries, not all
of them historically part of “Europe”, and with more memberships
being negotiated every year.
3 Linda Tuhiwai Smith Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and
Indigenous Peoples, London: Zed Books, 1999: page 1.
STRIDING OUT: EMERGENT TRENDS IN TWENTY-
FIRST CENTURY AFRICAN THEATRE AND
PERFORMANCE

KENE IGWEONU

A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE AT&P WORKING GROUP OF THE

IFTR/FIRT
The idea for an African Theatre and Performance Working Group
(AT&P WG) was conceived at the 2006 IFTR World Congress in
Helsinki, Finland (7-12 August 2006). What started as a conversation
between the trio of Kene Igweonu, Jeleel Ojuade and ‘Gbenga
Windapo soon led to the realization that such a group would be best
placed to champion the development of African theatre and
performance within the IFTR and on the international theatre arena.
It also became apparent, speaking to other members of IFTR,
particularly people like Temple Hauptfleisch, about the idea that a
working group such as the AT&P held the strong promise of being
one of the most popular and vibrant within the IFTR, as it seeks to
address some of the imbalances in theatre scholarship within the
federation and internationally. The idea for the group soon generated
a high level of interest among IFTR members, who were equally
quick to become signatories to its formation.
During this time another IFTR working group, on Arabic theatre,
was being proposed. Some of the founding members of the then
proposed working groups on Arabic theatre and AT&P held
preliminary discussions to explore the possibility of amalgamating,
particularly because of their shared interest in redressing some of the
imbalances of Western scholarship on/about non-Western theatre
practices, and in the theatres of northern Africa and other parts of
Africa where the Arabic/Islamic influence is evident. These
preliminary discussions could not develop further as it soon became
clear that despite their shared interests, the groups’ emergence onto
the international scholarly scene via the IFTR was driven by slightly
different agendas. Two key factors in the decision not to advance the
discussion were the realization that the Arabic Theatre working
group was actually a product of a group that had existed outside the
IFTR, and there were questions about its chosen name of ‘Arabic’
theatre for the group. The fact that group was already in existence
18 KENE IGWEONU

outside the IFTR was considered by the founding members of the

AT&P WG as a strong statement of intent on the part of the Arabic
Theatre working group that they were coming to the IFTR with an
identity that was already established. It was felt, at that time, that
merging with the Arabic Theatre working group could result in the
inadvertent marginalization of the agenda of the AT&P WG within
such a group with an already established identity. Perhaps more
fundamental to the decision was that the term ‘Arabic Theatre’ was
considered by the founding members of the AT&P WG as being
problematic because of its ready association with the Arab world. It
was also felt at that time that the name could be seen as indicating the
marginalization of non-Arab cultures, even when they are Islamic.
Concerns about the appropriateness of the name ‘Arabic Theatre’
adopted by the working group and the steps they have taken to
address them are well documented in Khalid Amine, Hazem Azmy
and Marvin Carlson’s article in Theatre Research International
(2009 35(3)) entitled “IFTR’s Arabic Theatre Working Group”.
Moreover, with the subsequent conference to the one in Helsinki
scheduled for Stellenbosch, South Africa in 2007, there was a general
consensus and sense of urgency among those involved that that was a
most auspicious time for a working group on African theatre to
emerge. Consequently, the proposal to constitute the African Theatre
and Performance Working Group was submitted to the IFTR
Executive Committee for consideration and endorsement during the
Helsinki Congress. In the proposal it was stated that the central aim
of the working group would be to “facilitate and maintain scholarly
discourse on African theatre and performance.” Key issues to be
taken on by the group focused on the exploration of the “unique
theoretical and methodological challenges posed by the particular
circumstances and forms existing on the African continent with its
vast diversity of peoples and languages”.
Following the approval of the working group by the IFTR
Executive Committee, the group had its first conference outing and
business meeting during the IFTR conference in Stellenbosch, South
Africa (10-14 July 2007). The theme for the 2007 conference was
“Theatre in Africa – Africa in the Theatre”, which focused on the
relationship between Africa and its theatre, and theatre and
performance in the rest of the world. The fact the annual conference
was taking place in Africa for the first time since the founding of the
IFTR in 1957 was a major statement on the part of the IFTR
Executive Committee and its President, Brian Singleton, whose
 STRIDING OUT 19

leadership was characterised by an unprecedented growth in

membership of scholars from non-Western countries. Convening the
international conference in Africa, coupled with the specific focus on
the relationship between Africa and its theatre, and theatre and
performance in the rest of the world, worked as a significant
incentive to members and prospective members of the AT&P WG,
who proposed papers that were presented on the main panels in
addition to those that were presented at the working group panels.
However, despite some last-minute cancellations occasioned by
logistical problems encountered by some of the working group
members, the inaugural meeting of the AT&P WG consisted of two
panel sessions during which a total of seven papers were presented
and discussed. These sessions were highly successful and recorded
the attendance of about thirty-five new and prospective members
representing more than ten different countries. The success of this
inaugural meeting of the group generated much anticipation of better
years to come. The working group was co-convened at the
Stellenbosch conference by Kene Igweonu and Petrus du Preez. The
Stellenbosch conference was also an opportunity for the group to take
another look at its aims and to set out its mission statements.
During its first business meeting in Stellenbosch the group
confirmed its key objective which, as stated earlier, is to facilitate
and maintain scholarly discourse on African theatre and performance.
The mission statements agreed during the business meeting in
Stellenbosch sought to address the aspirational outlook of the
working group, and declared that the AT&P WG will work to:

i. further the understanding and appreciation of African

theatre/performance forms and traditions by facilitating and
maintaining scholarly discourse and collaborative research in
the fields of African theatre and performance;
ii. explore unique theoretical and methodological challenges
posed by the particular circumstances and performance forms
existing on the African continent with its vast diversity of
peoples and languages; and along these lines, to help
formulate a common vocabulary and approach to African
theatre research;
iii. critically appraise the dominant representation of theatre and
performance in Africa and African theatre scholars in this
present time;
20 KENE IGWEONU

iv. facilitate a constructive comparative conversation across

African cultures, and between African culture and the rest of
the world;
v. negotiate the difficulties experienced by African theatre
scholars in attending international conferences and pursuing
research in the West (the global North).

The group also used the opportunity provided by its first business
meeting in Stellenbosch to set out plans for its first four years of
existence. Consequently, the AT&P WG resolved to adopt a strategy
that would encourage greater participation in the IFTR by Africa-
based scholars. This strategy involved the facilitation of additional
working group meetings in different parts of Africa and elsewhere, in
addition to the annual conference of the IFTR, as a way of sustaining
the enthusiasm and momentum generated by the Stellenbosch
conference and fulfilling the group’s key objective (which I will
explain below). Another useful decision adopted at the Stellenbosch
conference was to open up its business meetings to anyone with an
interest in African theatre and the work of the group. Not all IFTR
working groups encourage non-members to attend what are
effectively closed business meetings. However, the AT&P WG’s
decision to adopt a different approach has, during its four years of
existence, led to an increase in its membership around the world and
an increased awareness of the work of the group.
The AT&P WG also convened successfully during the 2008
IFTR conference at the Chung-Ang University Seoul, South Korea
(14-19 July 2008). However, the group’s meeting in Seoul was
chaired by Jeleel Ojuade and Ola Johansson as the Convener, Kene
Igweonu, was unable to attend at the last minute. For the 2009 IFTR
conference in Lisbon, Portugal (14-17 July 2009), the AT&P WG
convened for two days, during which it succeeded in furthering plans
for this book and discussing all the articles that were submitted by
members. The format adopted by the group for the Lisbon conference
did not permit individual presentations. Instead papers received by
the agreed deadline were circulated to members five weeks in
advance of the conference, which allowed members to contribute to
discussions of each paper during the meeting. Using this format, a
total of twenty-six papers were discussed and eighteen shortlisted for
inclusion in this book. The articles shortlisted were chosen after
careful consideration based on their relevance and treatment of the
theme proposed for the book. Each paper was allocated an average of
 STRIDING OUT 21

twenty minutes discussion time. However, two factors affected the

extent to which some of the papers could be discussed. First, most of
the articles were still in the very early stages of development.
Secondly, the majority of the members of the AT&P WG, most of
whom are Africa-based scholars, were unsuccessful in their visa
applications and consequently could not attend the Lisbon
conference. Despite these two factors, those present were able to
have fruitful discussions as submissions had been circulated to all the
members of the group well in advance of the conference. The AT&P
WG convened in Munich, Germany (26-31 July 2010) for the IFTR
World Congress entitled “Cultures of Modernity”. Again most of the
group’s members from Africa were unable to attend as a result of
problems associated with obtaining the required entry clearance to
travel to Germany.
A key challenge that the group continues to grapple with has
been how to successfully negotiate the difficulties experienced by
African scholars in attending IFTR international conferences in
different parts of the world. During its business meeting at the 2009
conference in Lisbon, the group discussed the then forthcoming 2010
Congress in Munich and how it could work with the conference
organisers to ensure that AT&P WG member from Africa who plan
to attend were given every possible support with their visa
applications to enable them to do so. However, the low success rates
of visa applications by Africa-based members of AT&P WG
continue to pose a considerable challenge to the ability of the group
to meet at the annual conferences. On its part the group continues to
explore ways to fulfil its related mission statement which is to
“negotiate the difficulties experienced by African theatre scholars in
attending international conferences and pursuing research in the West
(the global North)”. Despite the unremitting nature of this problem,
the AT&P WG still succeded in having a good outing at the Munch
conference. Because of the low turnout of members in Munich, the
AT&P WG accepted an invitation to join the Arabic Theatre working
group during their business meeting on Wednesday, 28 July 2010.
The Munich Congress also marked the fourth year of the AT&P
WG’s existence and, according to IFTR guidelines, was therefore due
for its periodic review and election of conveners for another four
years. However, as the group was not quorate at the Munich
conference, it joined the business meeting of the Arabic Theatre
workin group, as stated earlier. Then, following the Munich
Congress, members of the AT&P WG were invited by
22 KENE IGWEONU

correspondence to review the group’s aim and mission statements,

and to make suggestions for their possible revision as well as
nominating individuals to serve as conveners for the next four years.
It quickly became apparent that members of the group did not
consider it necessary to revise the group’s aim and mission
statements and so they were retained for the next four years, while
Kene Igweonu and Jeleel Ojuade were nominated and consequently
elected unopposed as conveners for the next four years.

FACILITATING SCHOLARSHIP AND OPPORTUNITIES

In its first four years of existence the AT&P WG has already done a
lot to facilitate scholarship and opportunities for its members,
particularly Africa-based scholars. From inception, the AT&P WG
has been greatly encouraged in its aim of facilitating African theatre
scholarship by the generous support and mentorship of Temple
Hauptfleisch who, as a member of the IFTR Executive Committee in
2006, championed the idea for the group when it was first proposed
in Helsinki. The AT&P WG continues to benefit from the
membership and support of other foundational members, including
Gay Morris and Joachim Fiebach who are actively involved in the
group’s voluntary mentorship scheme for new scholars, which I will
go on to explain below. In fact, not only did Gay Morris follow
Temple Hauptfleisch as the African member of the IFTR Executive
Committee when he stepped down in 2006, she has continued to use
her presence on the Committee on behalf of the group. As a result of
the immense support and goodwill enjoyed by the working group, it
has been able to make some significant progress within the past four
years. Before going on to consider some of the key avenues through
which the working group has facilitated African theatre scholarship,
it is certainly worth celebrating the success of the AT&P WG in
having three of its members, Gay Morris, Awo Asiedu and Kene
Igweonu, elected to the IFTR Executive Committee in 2007, 2009
and 2011 respectively. This is clear evidence of the remarkable
strides taken by the group to promote non-Western theatre
scholarship on the international stage. Thus, from no African
representative on the IFTR Executive Committee until 1998, when
Temple Hauptfleisch was first elected, Africa currently has three
representatives on the Executive Committee – and this is not even
counting those from the Arabic Theatre working group ... an
impressive advance! It is increasingly evident that the AT&P WG
has, within its first four years of existence in the IFTR, become an
 STRIDING OUT 23

intellectual home for members that continues to inspire and generate

enthusiasm for African theatre scholarship. These developments and
the group’s manifest commitment to creating opportunities for
Africa-based scholars to engage their contemporaries from different
parts of Africa, and elsewhere around the world, in scholarly
exchanges point to its growing significance on the international
theatre arena.
Outside the IFTR annual conferences, the AT&P WG continues
to proactively pursue its aim of facilitating and sustaining scholarly
discourse on African theatre and performance. The working group
was invited to co-sponsor an interdisciplinary “Conference on
African and Afro-Caribbean Performance”, which took place on 26-
28 September 2008 at the University of California, Berkeley. The
conference was hosted by UC, Berkeley’s Department of Theater,
Dance, and Performance Studies and convened by Leo Cabranes-
Grant and Catherine M. Cole. The conference brought together
scholars, writers and performers in a networking environment using
panel discussions, readings, film screenings and a master class in
West African dance. Key speakers and performers included Gerard
Aching, Professor at New York University and author of Masking
and Power: Carnival and Popular Culture in the Caribbean; Pauline
Malefane of South Africa's Isango Portobello Productions, star and
translator of the film U-Carmen eKhayelitsha (2005); Ngugi wa
Thiong’o, Professor at the International Center for Writing and
Translation, University of California, Irvine and one of Africa’s most
acclaimed playwrights and novelists; Tejumola Olaniyan, Professor
at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, author of Scars of
Conquest/Masks of Resistance: The Invention of Cultural Identities
in African, African-American, and Caribbean Drama. The panel
sponsored by the African Theatre and Performance Working Group
was entitled “Local vs. Global Shifts: Narratives of Culture, Identity
and Gender” and showcased five papers by Christina McMahon, Ola
Johansson, Awo Asiedu, Torsten Sannar and Kene Igweonu. The
group also convened its business meeting, which was well attended
by members and prospective members, most of whom were attending
a meeting of the AT&P WG for the first time.
As I indicated earlier, the group adopted the practice of hosting
extra meetings in different parts of Africa and elsewhere, in addition
to the annual conference of the IFTR, as a strategy for fulfilling its
declared aim. At the Stellenbosch conference where the decision was
made to convene additional meetings of the group, three African
24 KENE IGWEONU

countries were proposed as possible hosts for the first additional

meeting of the group based on the interest shown by members of the
group from those countries in hosting the event. The three countries
proposed for the first additional meeting of the group were Uganda,
Ghana and Nigeria, with Ghana eventually hosting the meeting.
In March 2008 the AT&P WG convened a symposium tagged
“Pre-Seoul Conference Meeting” at the University of Ghana. This
event was the first additional meeting of the group outside the IFTR
annual conferences. The Ghana forum followed on from the success
of the AT&P WG’s inaugural meeting in Stellenbosch and provided
an opportunity for the group to inaugurate the project that would
ultimately lead to the publication of this book. The symposium,
which was hosted by Awo Asiedu, Head of the School of Performing
Arts, University of Ghana, took place over two days (28-29 March
2008). In addition to the fourteen papers that were presented and
discussed at this pre-IFTR conference meeting, the Ghana
symposium was an opportunity to identify and start to develop
dialogue on a number of fronts, particularly towards the development
of the book project. The symposium provided an opportunity for the
group to recruit new members from Ghana, and West Africa as a
whole. Prospective members were given an insight into the workings
of the group by their involvement in enthusiastic discussions that
followed each paper that was presented, as well as the business
meeting at the end of the second day of the symposium. The business
meeting equally provided an opportunity to remind members and
prospective members about the next IFTR annual conference
scheduled for Seoul, South Korea in 2008 and benefits of IFTR
membership.
A major highlight in the short history of the African Theatre and
Performance Working Group was the debut of its International
Workshop on Academic Writing and Publishing in 2010. Discussion
at the working group’s business meeting during the 2007 IFTR
conference in Stellenbosch led to a powerful awareness of a critical
need to support Africa-based scholars notably in the area of academic
writing skills, requirements and protocol for international journal
publishing. Members considered that the working group was best
placed to facilitate this support by drawing on the vast scholarly and
editorial expertise within the IFTR to meet this need. Since the 2007
Stellenbosch conference, coupled with Temple Hauptfleisch’s
outstanding support, was instrumental in giving birth to the AT&P
WG, the Drama Department at the University of Stellenbosch was
 STRIDING OUT 25

invited by the working group to host the first International Workshop

on Academic Writing and Publishing. Consequently, the first of these
training workshop for Africa-based scholars, hosted by Temple
Hauptfleisch and chaired by Kene Igweonu, was held in Stellenbosch
on 15-19 March 2010. It was conceived as a forum for training and
mentorship in academic writing and publishing presented during a
week-long intensive workshop to colleagues from various institutions
across Africa. The rationale for the workshop was based on some of
the benefits:

i. For the discipline of theatre and performance research: new

and perhaps better research on the vast and relatively
unexplored field of African theatre and performance;
ii. For general arts scholarship in Africa: an exposure to, and
exchange of, ideas with young and emerging academics from
many parts of Africa;
iii. For the IFTR: an active start to their campaign to improve
academic standards and the range of research in the world.
Increased academic profile in Africa, and a demonstrated
involvement in service provision;
iv. For the delegates: empowerment of Africa-based academics
by supplying them with the ability to compete more
successfully for publication in international journals and an
opportunity for exchanging ideas with scholars and
researchers from the wider international academic
community;
v. For African universities: more research outputs and increased
expertise among staff members (the delegates would come
from this category of researcher);
vi. For international journal publishing: an increase of quality
submissions and editorial expertise.

This week-long residential training workshop created a unique

opportunity for scholars based in Africa to update their academic
writing and publishing skills. As in the previous additional meetings
of the group, the Stellenbosch workshop was combined with a
regional business meeting of the AT&P WG which enabled Africa-
based scholars to participate in the work of the IFTR through the
AT&P WG. Primarily, however, the Stellenbosch workshop had its
main focus on the contributors to this book. The workshop worked to
reinvigorate the book project and provided contributors with a vital
26 KENE IGWEONU

opportunity to receive valuable peer review and feedback on their

respective articles from highly experienced scholars in the field of
theatre studies, and to finalize their chapters in a supportive
environment. The workshop was attended by the IFTR President and
former Editor of Theatre Research International, Brian Singleton,
who led a workshop session on “The requirements for publishing in
international journals”. Also in attendance were Peter Eversmann,
former IFTR Vice-President and Series Editor of the Rodopi series
Themes in Theatre: Collective Approaches to Theatre and
Performance, as well as other distinguished scholars and editors of
international journals, who made use of one-to-one mentoring to
support and facilitate academic writing by the working group
delegates. Other topics explored during the workshop included
“Theatre and performance as a field of research” by Temple
Hauptfleisch, “Internet and library resources and how to access
them” by Marleen van Wyk, “Developments and challenges of online
publishing” by Susan Veldsman, and so on.
Following the success of the Stellenbosch workshop, the second
International Workshop on Academic Writing and Publishing was
planned for the West African region at the University of Ilorin in
Nigeria. This followed the IFTR Executive Committee approval of
AT&P WG’s proposal to extend the training workshop on a year-by-
year basis for scholars and academics in different African regions and
countries. The Ilorin workshop was initially planned for March 2011,
but had to be rescheduled at the last minute to 18-22April 2011. This
change of date and the related late notices meant that most of the
experienced scholars who mentored and supported delegates at the
Stellenbosch workshop could not attend the second workshop at
Ilorin. The Ilorin workshop generated a lot of interest from West
African scholars, particularly those from Nigeria and Ghana.

ABOUT THIS BOOK

Trends in Twenty-First Century African Theatre and Performance
offers a comprehensive study that addresses the state of the field of
African theatre and performance at the present time. Consequently,
this collection of regionally focused essays provides a broad
exploration of the current state of African theatre and performance,
and considers the diverse directions they are taking as we progress
into the second decade of the twenty-first century. The book brings
together a diverse array of articles on African theatre and
performance that deal with topics ranging from the pedagogy of
 STRIDING OUT 27

African theatre, intercultural negotiations, dance, drama, community

and applied theatre. The book is a product of the first four years of
the existence of the African Theatre and Performance Working
Group of the International Federation for Theatre Research. It
celebrates four years of unprecedented growth in membership and
participation of African scholars in the IFTR. Most of the chapters
presented in this book have evolved out of a working group process
in which papers were submitted to rigorous peer review at three IFTR
annual conferences (Seoul in 2008, Lisbon in 2009 and Munich in
2010), as well as a symposium in Accra, Ghana (March 2008) and,
most importantly, a week-long residential workshop in Stellenbosch,
South Africa in March 2010 where most of the work was done to
finalize the manuscript for publication.
Much of what is already published in the area of African theatre
and performance focuses on the analysis of plays, playwrights and
indigenous performance forms. Trends in Twenty-First Century
African Theatre and Performance, on the other hand, seeks to
complement what has been published in the field by offering a
forward-looking account of the current state of African theatre and
performance. The book provides a wide-ranging exploration of the
current state of African theatre and performance, and will be
particularly useful as a key text for students, scholars and anyone
interested in knowing the state of African theatre and performance at
the present time.
The book is divided into three parts, which are made up of
eighteen chapters. Part I contains six chapters which examine some
of the general trends in African theatre and performance studies. In
Chapter One, “The Dilemma of the African Body as a Site of
Performance in the Context of Western Training”, Samuel Ravengai
presents the findings of a study that spans much of the first decade of
the twenty-first century. In it Ravengai questions the reliance on
psycho-techniques (or psychophysical acting technique) in the
training of actors in Africa, arguing instead for a pedagogical
approach that recognizes the varied, and often embodied, cultural
matrix of African students. “Interculturalism Revisited: Identity
Construction in African and African-Caribbean Performance” by
Kene Igweonu attempts to re-encode the parameters of intercultural
theory through the discussion of African dance performance in a
transnational context. This second chapter looks particularly at ways
in which transnational dispersions of African forms have taken them
in new directions, underlining the compelling link between African
28 KENE IGWEONU

and African-Caribbean performance aesthetics, while simultaneously

dispelling notions of own and foreign.
Chapter Three, Johann van Heerden’s “Beyond the Miracle:
Trends in South African Theatre and Performance after 1994” draws
on the social and political history of South Africa to assess current
trends in theatre and performance that recognises the Eurocentric,
Afrocentric and multicultural heritage of the ‘new’ South Africa.
Consequently, it looks past the ‘miracle’ of the socio-political
transformations after the end of apartheid to examine its reverberant
influence on theatre and culture in today’s South Africa. Continuing
from van Heerden’s article on post-apartheid South Africa, Chapter
Four by Patrick Ebewo explores the issue of “Transformation and the
Drama Studies Curriculum in South Africa: A Survey of Selected
Universities”. Ebewo examines how under the apartheid regime
university education was Eurocentric in focus and did not recognize
or encourage a multicultural approach to teaching and learning. The
chapter goes on to consider the extent to which the end of apartheid
has led to a transformation in educational philosophy and policy to
support the development of university theatre curricula that recognize
African culture in what is known in South Africa as “Africanisation”.
Chapter Five by Petrus du Preez offers a focused reading of Tall
Horse, a collaboration between South Africa’s Handspring Puppet
Company and the Sogolon Theatre of Mali in its exploration of
performance in Africa as a hybrid of many different cultures, peoples
and influences. Du Preez problematizes the notion of an ‘authentic’
African performance and theatre, arguing that African theatre and
performance of the twenty-first century eschews such unambiguous
constructs, as it is becoming increasingly problematic to assign a set
of characteristics to what African theatre should be like without
degenerating into racial stereotypes. The chapter also looks at how
African theatre at the present time has been shaped by various factors
ranging from colonial contacts to intercultural influences, and how
attempts to recover pre-colonial performance forms and to frame
them as an African ‘authentic’ is a repudiation of these influences in
shaping what we know today as African theatre.
Part One concludes with Temple Hauptfleisch’s chapter entitled
“From Trance Dance to PaR: Theatre and Performance Studies in
South Africa”, which considers five phases in the development of
theatre studies in South Africa. Starting with the promotion of a
Western theatre system in the mid-1920s and 1930s, Hauptfleisch
traces the changes in South African theatre and performance studies
 STRIDING OUT 29

to their current state, where reconciliation and integration at home,

and increased collaboration internationally, particularly with the rest
of Africa, are of prime importance.
Part II moves on to consider the topic of applied/community
theatre and performance in the next five chapters. It opens with
Vicensia Shule’s “Theatre in/for Development in Tanzania: A
Neoliberal Nightmare” (Chapter Seven), in which she looks at theatre
for development practice in Tanzania as a neoliberal nightmare.
Considering neoliberalism in connection with globalization, Shule
argues that it presents a form of aggressive imperialism that
reinforces donor dependence among theatre practitioners as a result
of the inherent contradiction of using theatre to address
developmental issues locally, while at the same time addressing the
neoliberal policies of that are part of the global socio-economic
matrix.
In Praise Zenenga’s “Voice in the Teeth of Power: Popular
Theatre under the Censorship Radar in Zimbabwe (1998-2008)”, the
searchlight falls on the Zimbabwean “decade of crisis” in order to
explore its importance as a most significant period in the country’s
popular theatre movement. This chapter pays homage to the varied
and ingenious performance strategies developed and used by
Zimbabwean popular theatre practitioners in their struggles against
repression by the state and ruling party. Chapter Nine, “Citizens
Stories – or Theatre as Performing Citizenship in Zimbabwe” by
Vibeke Glørstad also considers theatre in Zimbabwe, and particularly
how it provides a space for performing contestations of identity and
citizenship. Following on from this, Ola Johansson’s “Towards a
Politically Efficacious Community-Based Theatre” returns to
Tanzania to examine the effectiveness of community-based theatre as
a strategy for HIV prevention. This chapter draws on evidence from
performances, focus group discussions and interviews to argue that
the absence of determined political and institutional backing for
community-based theatre affects its efficacy adversely. Concluding
Part II, Chapter Ten introduces us to Gladys Ijeoma Akunna’s
treatment of “Dance Movement Analysis as Psycho-Diagnostic Tool
in Modern Nigerian Medical Practice”. Akunna argues that dance
can be used not just as an intervention to help mitigate stress and
anxiety in mental health patients, but also as a diagnostic tool for
investigating patients’ mental state and attitude.
The seven chapters in Part III, “Playwrights and Performance”,
survey the place of contemporary playwrights and performance
30 KENE IGWEONU

interventions within the corpus of African theatre/performance

practice and contemporary society. Part III starts with “Treading
Subtly on Volatile Ground: Ahmed Yerima’s Hard Ground and the
Dramatization of the Niger Delta Crisis in Nigeria”, in which Osita
Ezenwanebe assesses Yerima’s representation of the Niger Delta
crisis in his play, Hard Ground. This is followed by Chapter
Thirteen, “Drama as an Analytical Tool of Contemporary Society:
Ahmed Yerima’s Hard Ground and the Politics of the Niger Delta”
by Adebisi Ademakinwa. This chapter makes use of the same text as
the previous chapter to explore the treatment of ‘historical’ materials
by playwrights in order to create what Ademakinwa refers to as
“relevant theatre”, that is, theatre drawing on prevailing social,
economic and political circumstances to speak to contemporary
audiences. “Theatre-on-Demand: Stella Oyedepo – Theatrical
Megastar of the Twenty-First Century’, the title of Chapter Fourteen
by Ngozi Udengwu, focuses on the need for African playwrights and
theatre practitioners to reposition themselves in order to meet the
challenges of the twenty-first century, particularly those associated
with advances in internet technology, the cinema and satellite
television. Drawing on examples of indigenous travelling theatres
and applied theatre initiatives that work on commission, Udengwu
goes on to propose Stella Oyedepo’s method of creating ‘theatre-on-
demand’ as a viable model for a theatre that is accessible, relevant
and capable of meeting some of these challenges.
The fifteenth chapter, “Abibigoro: Mohamed Ben Abdallah’s
Search for an African Aesthetic in the Theatre” by Awo Mana
Asiedu explores the concept of abibigoro, coined by the Ghanaian
playwright and theatre director, Mohamed ben Abdallah, in his
search for an African aesthetic in the theatre. In this chapter Asiedu
describes how Abdallah’s concept of abibigoro (‘black theatre’ or
‘black play’) attempts to extend – and thus find new meanings that
build on – Efua Sutherland’s notion of anansegoro, a uniquely
Ghanaian genre of theatre based on traditional folktales known as
Anansesem or Ananse (trickster) stories. In Chapter Sixteen, “African
Dance in Diaspora: The Examples of Nigerian Yoruba bàtá and
dùndún”, Jeleel O. Ojuade discusses the significance of bàtá and
dùndún drum ensembles and dance movements in projecting Yoruba
culture, using examples drawn from the Ayanagalu International
Dancers and Ojuade’s International Dance Group. In Chapter
Seventeen, “Celebration as Aesthetic Device in Contemporary
Nigerian Dance Productions: Hubert Ogunde’s Destiny as Example”,
 STRIDING OUT 31

Chris Ugolo introduces the idea of ‘celebration’ as an aesthetic

device in contemporary Nigerian dance that relies heavily on
indigenous festival theatre. The final chapter in this collection of
essays discusses the ‘girlfriend aesthetic’ as a practical methodology
in the making of a site-specific performance, Katuntu (…and you
too). In this chapter Alude Mahali discusses the theatre-making
process involved in creating the performance which explores ideas
about ‘otherness’ and ‘performing the memory’ of a black girlhood
spent in South Africa. Finally, the book offers a selected
bibliography of key resources on African theatre and performance
which we hope will be a useful guide to essential texts on the subject.

CONCLUDING THOUGHTS
It is important to state that this book makes no pretence at covering
all aspects of African theatre and performance, which we recognise
would be a near impossible task for any one book to accomplish
because of the vast but often overlooked diversity of cultures, people
and languages on the continent. We have rather endeavoured to move
away from the imprecise tendency to construct indigenous and
literary theatre traditions and practices in Africa as binaries, and
instead offered them as part of the matrix of African theatre and
performance. As mentioned earlier, this book is a product of the
working group’s tradition of working on projects as a collective,
honing and disseminating the material in the form of books and other
scholarly outputs. Like other working groups within the IFTR, the
AT&P WG encourages the circulation of completed papers for
participants to read in advance of each meeting. As a result, ideas for
projects often emerge out of such a process. However, it is necessary
to point out that not all IFTR working groups consider a joint book
publication a priority objective. Nevertheless, two very successful
book series bear testament to the importance the IFTR attaches to
such outputs. The book series generated by these collaborative
projects over the past number of years include Studies in
International Performance, which is published by Palgrave
Macmillan in association with the International Federation of Theatre
Research. The series is edited by Janelle Reinelt and Brian Singleton,
and publishes works that “produce interactions between and among
nations and cultures as well as genres, identities, and imaginations.
… The series embraces ‘Culture’ which is institutional as well as
improvised, underground, or alternate, and analyzes ‘Performance’ as
either intercultural or transnational as well as intracultural within
32 KENE IGWEONU

nations.” The second book series, Collective Approaches to Theatre

and Performance, is published by Rodopi in association with the
International Federation of Theatre Research. It is to this Rodopi
series that this book belongs. Peter Eversmann is the Series Editor,
with Temple Hauptfleisch and Hans van Maanen constituting the
Editorial Board.
Both the Studies in International Performance and Collective
Approaches to Theatre and Performance series work to provide a
platform for scholarly publications by members of the IFTR.
However, while the Palgrave Macmillan series publishes
monographs as well as collective works, the Rodopi Series (as the
name suggests) focuses on the publication of collective works that
are “characterised by a high level of interconnectedness – each author
clearly contributing to a central subject within the field of theatre and
performance.” Consequently this book, like others in the Rodopi
series, offers its readers a multivocal, but centrally focused,
standpoint from which to explore the variety of approaches and
perspectives in African theatre and performance scholarship.
 PART I
GENERAL TRENDS IN THEATRE AND
PERFORMANCE STUDIES
CHAPTER 1

THE DILEMMA OF THE AFRICAN BODY AS A SITE

OF PERFORMANCE IN THE CONTEXT OF
WESTERN TRAINING
SAMUEL RAVENGAI

The debate about among scholars about Stanislavsky and his method
of conceiving a character continues to rage today. Stanislavsky
believes the conception of character occurs through cerebral
processes, while those who disagree (such as Michael Chekhov,
Vakhtangov, Brook and Grotowski) believe that character can be
established through the body or somatic impulse. In his last days
Stanislavsky even challenged his earlier theories himself by
proposing that everything must be turned into physical action. The
'work on oneself' and the 'work on one's role' which he had pioneered
from 1909 until 1931, Stanislavsky declared, belonged to the
classroom studio for academic purposes (Gordon, 1987). Once this
work had been internalised by working actors, it was no longer part
of the production process. The method focusing on physical actions
was intended to be a corrective measure to the slow rehearsal process
normally associated with the Stanislavsky system. Can we, therefore,
blindly accept a system that its architect dumped in favour of
physical action? To my knowledge none of these theatre innovators
challenged the Stanislavsky system on the basis of its cultural bias
towards bodies with a Western disposition.1
This challenge is my point of departure. My hypothesis is that the
psycho-technique is a culture-specific system that arose to deal with
the heavy realism of Ibsen, Chekhov, Strindberg, Odets and others. I
believe that there is a Western realism2 which can be differentiated
from an African realism (which I will discuss in more detail below).
If the psycho-technique was crafted to deal with Western realism,
does it still have any relevance today in dealing with post-linear play
texts? My second hypothesis is that our bodies are ‘embodied’
36 SAMUEL RAVENGAI

differently, not because of genetics, but as a result of our different

cultural environments. Consequently the psycho-technique tends to
favour a Western-groomed body and seems to disorientate any other
differently embodied body. A Western-groomed body, as understood
in this article, refers to any racial body which assimilated values that
are normally associated with the West as defined in this article. In
other words, our bodies are not only natural and biological entities,
but they are ‘cultural bodies’. The question is how do acting trainers
empower actors with respect to their cultural bodies? Which body
does the performer want to have by the end of the training
programme? Is the aesthetic goal named at all? This article attempts
to grapple with these questions utilising a combination of theory and
ethnographic experiences with different subcultures in Zimbabwe
and South Africa.
I am proposing an intercultural performance model that, relying
on the work of Jean-Marie Pradier (1995), I would call
‘ethnoscenology’. Patrice Pavis (2003), drawing on the same scholar,
defines ethnoscenology as the “study in different cultures, of
Organised Human Performance Behaviours” (2003: 288). As can be
derived from the term itself, the ethnoscenology model is concerned
with cultural performance practices of any ethnic group without
patronising or homogenising the group by imposing what Pavis calls
“the overly reductive model of western theatre” (ibid.). While Pavis
deploys the term from an analytical point of view, I intend to use it
from a performance perspective. Pavis expounds more on
ethnoscenology:

It favours an integrative and interactive perspective, since it is

concerned with the global aspects of expressive human manifestations;
including their somatic, physical, cognitive, emotional, and spiritual
dimensions (2003: 288).

The important issue of ethnoscenology is to elaborate an ethno-model

that profiles the means of performing in an intercultural theatre.
It is pleasing to note that elsewhere in the Western world talk and
even performance have already begun that realise the integration of
marginalised groups (such as Native Canadians) with privileged
middle-class students, such as experiments done by Diana Belshaw
of Humber College, University of Toronto. Even though the term
ethnoscenology was coined in 1995, it still hasn’t gained currency
because of the virtual absence of a performance framework or theory
that underpins its teaching. Diana Belshaw grapples with terms such
 THE DILEMMA OF THE AFRICAN BODY 37

as “creation-based training”, “devised theatre” and “contemporary

theatre training”, but admits that the approach is “vaguely named”
and “even more vaguely defined” (2008: 76). Even if she has
produced work of unique quality, she keeps asking “where was the
training that made it possible?” (ibid.). As director of the Theatre
Performance programme at Humber College since 2000, she has been
attempting to develop a training model that encourages the
integration of students from different backgrounds. She has stuck
with the descriptive epithet “devised theatre”, which she says

requires engagement; it allows each participant to bring his or her voice

into the work in an equal way; issues of class, privilege, gender, culture
and literacy become material for the work rather than exclusionary
devices … In fact, devised theatre training is a greater equaliser that
genuinely welcomes creative collaboration from every member of the
ensemble. No voice is marginalised; no experience deemed insufficient
(2008: 78).

In intent and purpose Diana Belshaw’s and my own endeavour are

similar, but our methods might differ. Regrettably, in Africa, and
particularly in Southern Africa – the region that I am relatively
familiar with – there is no sign of this interculturalisation of the
drama curriculum, with a few possible exceptions. Patrick Ebewo
notes in his chapter in this volume that, while encouraging
transformations are taking place in four sampled historically white
universities in South Africa, he does not see what he calls the
“desegregation” of the drama curriculum taking place. The content
on African performance modes is thin and in some cases non-
existent. One of the key points in his chapter is the belief held by
some members of staff in his department that the practical training of
students cannot be Africanised by incorporating African materials.
This chapter challenges these notions by proposing an intercultural
performance theory.
Between 2003 and 2007 I worked on five productions with acting
students at the University of Zimbabwe.3 I deliberately alternated a
Western play with an African play. This was meant to enable me to
evaluate the responses of students, who had either a rural or an urban
background, to the various versions of realism with the psycho-
technique at the centre of training. I explained the objectives of the
projects to the students and also what I wanted from them for
purposes of fulfilling the requirements of the course.4 I had been
trained in Stanislavskian procedures by Robert McLaren and, as it is
38 SAMUEL RAVENGAI

the nature of grand narratives to be perpetuated by their recipients, I

myself began to teach and practice the psycho-system to my students.
In doing these five plays I was dealing mainly with two groups of
Africans who brought to the acting practice two different cultural
bodies that inevitably responded differently to the teaching of the
psycho-technique. I taught it using exercises developed by
Stanislavsky himself, according to the book The Stanislavsky
Technique by Mel Gordon (1987). The first group mainly originated
from the rural areas where 65% of the total population of 12,9
million lived by 2003. The second group of learners came mainly
from the cities, which accounted for 35% of the total population of
Zimbabwe.5 The origins of the learner is very important, because the
cultural environment has a profound bearing on the body that later
comes into the acting practice. The imprint of the environment on the
body has been used in other disciplines, dominated by bourgeois
knowledge, to the disadvantage those who didn’t have the ‘right’
imprint of the environment. In sociolinguistics, for instance, Basil
Bernstein developed what is known today as the Deficit Hypothesis.
He propounded the hypothesis that the social success of the middle-
and upper-class members of American society and their access to
social privileges was directly dependent on the organisation of their
linguistic messages, which he called “formal speech” as opposed to
the “public speech” spoken by the lower class in America (Dittmar,
1976). The hypothesis is circular in the sense that social structure
conditions linguistic behaviour, which in turn reproduces social
structure. The underlying argument is that lower-class speakers can
gain social success if they speak “formal speech” controlled by the
dominant class. On the basis of the Deficit Hypothesis, black school
children in America were denied the right to use Black English
Vernacular (BEV) so that they could learn formal speech in schools.
Norbert Dittmar (1976) recounts how Labov challenged the Deficit
Hypothesis by arguing that there was nothing in BEV which
interfered with the development of logical thought and that no test
could prove that any dialect of English made its speakers
underachievers or educationally deficient. The Deficit Hypothesis
was the problem and not the children who spoke either BEV or
public speech. Standard and non-standard English are, according to
Dittmar (1976), are two different systems which have their own
equivalent possibilities of expression. Labov’s arguments were used
by attorneys representing BEV parents, who finally won the case to
have BEV taught and used in schools as a language (Dittmar, 1976).
 THE DILEMMA OF THE AFRICAN BODY 39

Elizabeth Mills (2008) has taken the debate to the performance

arena by raising questions of empowerment in theatre voice training.
She asserts that both white and black performers in South Africa
enter the space of voice practice with what she calls a “cultural
voice”; by this she means a voice that reflects individuality as a well
as the sound that can be recognised as belonging to a particular ethnic
group/speech community. Formal English in South Africa is what
Darron Araujo (2009) has called general White South African
English (WSAfE). This makes the speaker sound white and is a
marker of status, which Bourdieu terms “symbolic capital”. Elizabeth
Mills (2008) argues that after going through voice training,
performers gain by losing the natural and cultural voice. She refuses
to take any position with regards to this loss, but poses the question:
“How do voice practices empower actors in relation to their ‘cultural
voice’, particularly where it is not the sound of the cultural choice of
the practice?” (2008:10). The debate is not centred on English alone.
According to Darron Araujo (2009), Afrikaans speakers from the
Gauteng area feel that the Cape accent is imposed on them during
voice training and the shift that takes effect goes in the direction of
the Cape accent. The gist of Araujo’s argument is that in working
with any language, a certain accent group will seem validated by the
work, while pushing other accents to the periphery. When learners
lose their cultural voice, they are said to have gained a neutral accent,
but that neutral accent in the case of English voice training has come
across as Received Pronunciation (Araujo, 2009).
In physical theatre actor training performers get to a body
condition of neutrality where the body is emptied of “any attitude or
personality trait” and becomes “open (in the sense of being available)
to the creative stimuli” (Dymphna, 2001: 33). Is there such a thing as
a position of neutrality? Michel Foucault argues that power and
knowledge imply one another and that dominant groups will produce
knowledge in particular ways in order to protect their dominance.
What may be called neutrality is in fact a confirmation of the values
of the dominant group. As I discuss below, the Western-groomed
body was very much influenced by European court society, whose
etiquette required the internal pacification of individuals and the
careful management of their bodies. When bodies are trained to be
neutral in actor training, they seem to come close to a ‘court society’
body and the African body is asked to lose far too much as compared
to a Western-groomed body. It seems to me this voice training
described above gives an unfair advantage to first-language speakers
40 SAMUEL RAVENGAI

of any linguistic group whose accent has been chosen as the official
sound. This also seems to apply to African bodies involved in actor
training. When they become neutral, whose bodies do they become,
as there seems to be no such condition called neutrality? The
University of Cape Town Drama Department stopped teaching
British English – Received Pronunciation (RP) in the early 1970s in
favour of WSAfE (Araujo, 2009). In fact, every member of the white
commonwealth had to develop its variety of English and accent as a
way of establishing its separate identity.6 To have a uniquely South
African accent is a postcolonial condition of refusing to be British.
To have a uniquely ethnic accent (cultural voice) is a postcolonial
condition of refusing to be wholly white South African. Does any
system of voice training have the right to question or change that
ambivalence? The same questions arise with regards to the use of the
psycho-technique on embodied African bodies.
Some theories of the body may assist in understanding better the
differences between rural African bodies and urban African bodies
and how the psycho-technique works differently on the two
categories of bodies. I employ here social constructionist theories as
outlined by Goffman (1976) and Elias (1983). Social constructionist
approaches are united in their concern to explain the importance of
the body in terms of social factors, as opposed to naturalist theories
which explain racial inequalities as a result of the body being either
white or black. An example of a naturalist argument would be that
gender inequalities are a direct result of women’s weak bodies. The
gender of the body has nothing to do with inequalities; it is the
meaning society has placed on those bodies that make them have less
cultural and symbolic capital. The idealist school of negritude led by
Leopold Senghor, for example, is discredited for its naturalist views
of the African body, which it takes to be endowed with certain
psycho-physiological qualities lacking in other races such as
suppleness, courage, warmth and humanity (Ngara, 1990). This is an
essentialist philosophy which claims that a black race will
perpetually possess qualities that make it better than other races. It is
not the fact of blackness that imparts those qualities, but the
environment within which those bodies are raised. Any racial body
can have these qualities under similar conditions.
Learners who originated from rural areas (Strong Rural
Background – SRBs) always outnumbered learners from urban
centres (Nose Brigades or, more recently, Salads).7 The reasons for
this are beyond the scope of this article. In talking about SRBs, I
 THE DILEMMA OF THE AFRICAN BODY 41

must be careful not to paint everybody with the same brush. There
are those who still cherish traditional values, while some of them
have acculturated, but not to the same level as those raised in the city.
Bourdillon (1993) makes the same observation that “within any
particular age group there are those who cling tenaciously to the
values of traditional culture, while others see themselves as
belonging to the society of the wide world” (1993:2). Bourdillon
goes further to say that change has been taking place in Zimbabwe
and it cannot be avoided no matter how much people wish to remain
traditional. The traditional environment within which rural bodies
reside now perhaps has less impact than it used to in the past owing
to better systems of communication, access to education,
proselytization and other factors. However, by and large students
with a rural background consistently revealed similar characteristics
during training – better physical fitness, more expressive behaviour,
more social and interactive, less fluent in English, although some of
them could write good English. The relatively superior physiological
display can be traced back to menial labour in the rural set up where
man and women do chores involving preparing fields, farming,
harvesting, fetching water, firewood and building structures among
other things. For a coterie of students who still follow tradition the
physiological agility was as a result of numerous rituals that
punctuate Zimbabwean rural life. In Zimbabwe there are ritual
dances to mark birth, marriage, death, seasons and harvest. There can
be dances just for joy where villagers would perform mbakumba
dances amidst eating and drinking. This is a lifelong process where
the performer no longer thinks of the art of dancing; the basic
techniques have become automatic from much repetition from one
event to another. The performer reaches a state of accomplishment
through what Zarrili (1995) calls a process of “encoding”, which
begins when the child learns to dance and continues until joining a
university or an acting studio. The body finally carries an aura around
it that acts as an “image-text” that can be read as belonging to an
individual as well as a given cultural group. This is what I call the
cultural body. Chris Shilling illuminates the notion of the cultural
body by saying that:

More specifically bodies bear the imprint of social class because of

three main factors: an individual’s social location (the material
circumstances of their daily lives); the formations of their habitus (the
bodily dispositions that shape people’s reactions to familiar and novel
situations); and the development of their tastes (the appropriation of
42 SAMUEL RAVENGAI

‘choice’ lifestyles rooted in material constraints). As a result of these

factors, people tend to develop bodies which are valued differently and
serve to naturalise social differences through such features as accent,
poise and movement (1997:88).

Thus in terms of poise and comportment the rural body is recognised

as such and also belonging to an ethnic group. It is a cultural body.
The body is therefore, like language, a carrier of culture and a
repository of community memories.
Another dimension of the body is what Chris Shilling (1997)
calls “embodiment”. The term is used differently in sociology and
cultural studies, but what comes out as a common concern is how
people’s actions, gestures and interactions are constructed by society.
Human embodiment, in other words, is a condition where the fleshly
physicality is moulded by social processes. Erving Goffman (1976)
uses the term “social portraiture” for the same concept. These are the
expressive displays people make that are considered as appropriate
behaviour in appropriate circumstances. These are performed
repeatedly until they have been ingrained in the body as “ritualised
behaviour” (Goffman, 1976). Michael Gelfand (1973) did a study of
the Shona and recorded their ritualised behaviour during greetings,
receiving goods, addressing each other, showing respect, table
etiquette, being good, displaying humility and other displays of social
portraiture. When repeated right from the time the child begins social
life, social portraiture becomes virtually instinctive. Individuals
display these gestures “in what is sensed to be a spontaneous and
unselfconscious way, that is, uncalculated, unfaked [and] natural”
(Goffman, 1976:7). Since these expressive displays are performed to
one another by almost everybody in a given community, each subject
is performing his/her social identity. There is some debate on
whether this is unconscious or conscious. Goffman (1976) argues
that people can be conscious of the displays they employ and can
perform them in contexts of their choosing. Foucault (1979) is of the
view that the body is subject to discourse. It will behave the way
society wants it to behave. What society wants is stored in the mind,
which then controls the body. The body and mind are one.
Expressive behaviour becomes a second nature to the rural student
who comes to join the acting practice.
Both embodiment and social portraiture resonate (though are not
synonymous) with Bourdieu’s habitus, a term that he uses to refer to
dispositions that generate and structure human actions, behaviours
and practices. This, Bourdieu (1993) argues, is as a result of a long
 THE DILEMMA OF THE AFRICAN BODY 43

process of conscious and unconscious learning from childhood which

acts as a second nature and allows the body to act in particular ways.
This presupposes that performers act out of habitus. If habitus is
developed from a specific cultural environment, it follows that the
rural body has a different habitus from the urban body. This an
aspect that Patrice Pavis (2003: 65-99) calls the “anthropology of the
actor”, which he describes through a series of questions which
include some of the following: What kind of body does the actor
have? In what ways is this body already impregnated by the
surrounding culture? Who controls the body? How is the body
experienced visually and kinetically? In others words, the behaviour
of the body is determined by the surrounding culture that nurtured the
body. Culture is not always material, but manifests itself in intangible
ways such as in techniques of the body. This is a point developed
further by Erika Fischer-Lichte (1992), who concurs with Pavis that
not all actors have the same bodily material. The actor’s work, she
argues, is built from the unique material inscribed within his/her
individuality and also material that comes from the actor’s culture as
the body belongs to both nature and a particular culture. She
elaborates that

This body has been shaped in a specific way by nature and yet culture
surrounding it has an effect on it from the very beginning … Culture
not only plays a considerable part in the development, restructuring, and
regulation of bodily needs, the formation of strong psychological drives
and the way they are expressed, but influences the form of the adult
body. … Every person’s body thus constitutes the product of an
interactive relation between his or her specific nature and the
surrounding culture (1992: 187).

The rural student brings both a physically strong body and a body
that displays the student’s cultural identity through the almost
unconscious performance of expressive displays. This does not
necessarily translate into a healthy body.
The urban body also expresses a different social portraiture. The
urban body, which mostly urban students possess, can be theorised
through what Bourdieu (1986) has called physical capital as well as
through Elias’s (1983) notion of the “civilised body”.8 Again a
precautionary statement has to be made at this point that not all urban
bodies are the same. Since colonial times (1890-1979) the urban
Zimbabwean populace has been structured along class lines. The
African middle class (African elites), who consisted of pastors,
44 SAMUEL RAVENGAI

doctors, nurses, teachers, office workers, artisans and business

people, always wanted a lifestyle that mimicked that of their
European rulers (Ravengai, 2010). Since they had attended European
schools, they brought with them back to the township European
tastes, culture and bodies. They wanted to have their own taverns, tea
parties and social areas which were not open to lower class Africans.
They in turn passed these tastes to lower-class Africans who
adulterated them to suit their own urban popular culture. The level of
Westernisation of the body increased as one moved from the lower
class to the middle class. However, the bottom line is that, with a few
possible exceptions, both classes were more Westernised than their
rural counterparts. When the caste system was formally abolished at
independence in 1980, blacks could now move from middle class to
upper class (the ruling elite). Although there were efforts to
regenerate the old culture in the urban space, acting rural attracted
censure from peers, as evidenced by such labels as SRBs
(Bourdillon, 1993). The development of the urban African body is
therefore linked to the development of the European body.
In the Zimbabwean urban space of Westernised nature, children
of the African elite don’t necessarily go through the rituals and
expressive displays that are associated with the rural students. They
spend time at school, home or leisure parks. For the most affluent the
body is taken as a ‘project’ to be worked on to produce an
individualised identity such as skin piercing, body building and skin
tattooing. In the classes that I taught between 2003 and 2007 two
students had tattoos and only one had gone for body building through
weight lifting. The rest of the urban students just brought bodies that
lacked the rural expressiveness. Femi Osofisan, in a keynote address
to the 2007 IFTR conference, noted a similar trend in Nigeria, where
most recent students had lost touch with traditional ways and
appeared like virtual aliens with the alien’s mentality in their own
country of birth. They no longer possessed the expressive behaviour
and habits that were normally associated with previous African
actors. Osofisan (2007) noticed that his students were simply bodies
but not bodies of performers as in previous years. In trying to explain
this anomaly, Femi Osofisan argued that the socio-cultural
environment that used to nurture expressive Africans has
significantly changed. In his country parents no longer sent their
children to bed nor woke them up with songs and stories. The songs
that the new generation of children liked were those taken from the
Euro-American Top Ten List or the church choirs. He bemoaned the
 THE DILEMMA OF THE AFRICAN BODY 45

fact that all of those factors had not only altered the mentality of
modern African students, but their body language.
This condition of the urban African student is an imitation of the
European body. Elias (1983) reminds us that the European body was
restricted by a number of factors, such as the court societies which
dominated the whole of Europe from the Renaissance period
onwards. Court societies institutionalised codes of body management
which differentiated civilised bodies from uncivilised bodies. Bodies
were at the centre of the court etiquette value system. Court people,
according to Elias, had to master “an extraordinarily sensitive feeling
for the status and importance that should be attributed to a person in
society on the basis of his bearing, speech, manner and appearance”
(Elias 1983:55). The concept of the ‘gentleman’ was a product of this
wave of bodily change and the style of the court society continued its
force “until the Second World War, especially in British influenced
countries” (Goffman, 1976:4). In Zimbabwe this has continued up to
this day, although the force of style is declining. In Bourdieu’s terms
the urban African elite body has more physical capital than the rural
body. Physical capital is the translation of bodily physique into a
commodity that can bring value and often money. A certain bodily
structure and expressive behaviour may have more value than
another, such as possessing power, status and symbolic forms. As a
result of this people of different classes (rural and urban) tend to
develop bodies that are valued differently. The physical capital of
African elite children can be converted into social and cultural capital
by being recognised as such and, therefore, allowing marriages to
take place within the same social strata. This keeps money in the
same class and accentuates its domination. Although the rural body is
physically fit and more expressive, it has less exchange value
although, according to Bourdieu, talking about working-class bodies,
it may have value in the informal market where physical power is
required to generate money.
How does all this relate to the training of performers? At the
point of entering the acting practice two different bodies present
themselves to the acting mentor – a rural body whose characteristics I
have delineated above and an urban body that is fat, flabby, skinny or
lean depending on genotype. The urban body is individualised and
generally lacks the social identity of the rural body. It is more
rationalised and less responsive to melodic impulses when compared
to the rural body. As Chris Shilling argues, the result of emotional
restraint or rationality is that “the drives and passions that can no
46 SAMUEL RAVENGAI

longer be displayed directly between people, often struggle just as

violently within individuals against the supervising part of
themselves” (1997:98). The Stanislavsky system is text based rather
than physically based, and it privileges urban middle-class students
who in most cases have a particular Western intellectual background
absent in low-class rural students. Max Price (2010), while
advocating for affirmative action at the University of Cape Town in
South Africa, highlights issues that also apply to Zimbabwe and are
pertinent to understanding the discrepancies that exist between the
urban and rural student. He notes that low-class black students
mostly have little or no access to school laboratories and libraries,
and they may be taught by poorly qualified teachers. Because of the
various traditional chores that they are expected to perform, they may
have many missed days of teaching, and compared to their middle-
class urban counterparts, may have no books at home, no computer
or internet access, no parent with sufficient education to help with
homework and no exposure to museums, shows and travel. They may
not speak in English at home or even learn in English, yet they will
be asked to act and write assignments in English. In Zimbabwe the
performing arts are relegated to extramural work, which former
Group A schools with adequate facilities tend to pursue, while those
from rural areas will probably perform traditional dances. One may
ask if it is culturally fair to use the same training method to groups of
students who have two such different cultural dispositions.
Integrative and intercultural ethnoscenology then becomes handy.
Stanislavsky’s psycho-technique is comprised of two facets:
‘work of the actor on himself’ and ‘work of the actor on his part’. I
begin with the analysis of the first part in relation to the two bodies
that I have established above. It seems to me that the psycho-
technique, especially the part that deals with the inner work of the
actor on himself, is indispensable to any training that requires the full
realisation of psychological characters. Most of the theatre trainers
who rebelled against Stanislavsky maintained the system’s ten
elements or variations of it – inspiration, imagination, concentration,
feeling for truth, the magic if, given circumstances, emotional
memories, action, tempo-rhythm and radiation. Although there is
huge debate on the efficacy of emotional memories,9 the element
remains an option among alternatives provided by others such as
Chekhov, Leopold Sulerzhitsky, and Vakhtangov. These psycho-
elements worked pretty much the same on both types of bodies
regardless of social orientation, but moderated by each individual’s
 THE DILEMMA OF THE AFRICAN BODY 47

own ingenuity. What didn’t particularly work in earlier experiments

while doing Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman and Ama Ata
Aidoo’s The Dilemma of a Ghost was the use of improvisations that
performers could not relate to. The exercises were too far removed
from their environments. In subsequent years I spent considerable
time on revising the exercises so that they could capture the flavour
and tone of their environment. We achieved better results with the
reformed exercises. This is basically the essence of the psycho-
system which exists to awaken the performer’s creative sub-
consciousness by indirect and conscious means. What kept worrying
me is that the psycho-technique required me to deposit knowledge in
the students without taking note of what they brought to the acting
practice. It came across as a deductive method of collecting skills
using what Freire (1972) calls the banking concept of education.
The psycho-technique presents a number of challenges to
differently embodied bodies when it shifts to the work of the actor on
his bodily mechanism, which Stanislavsky had laid out in Building a
Character (1949). On the surface it seems to favour rural bodies,
which I have generally singled out as physically fitter than urban
bodies. At the beginning of training Stanislavsky favours bodies that
are physically fit. Speaking through his fictional director Tortsov, he
disparages bodies that display “flabby muscles, poor posture, sagging
chests” (1949:37). Tortsov believes that through exercise muscles
can be revived, toned up to make new movements and to experience
new sensations, and create “subtle possibilities for action and
expression” (1949:38). He prescribes gymnastics, ballet and dancing
classes to his beginning performers. This is a condition that is
embedded in the rural body owing to the dances, rituals and menial
labour that characterise much of rural life.
However, what the psycho-technique gives with the left hand, it
takes away with the right hand. The social portraiture that comes with
the physical fitness is not necessarily required by the psycho-
technique. In other words, the rural performer must give up his
cultural body in order to be a good performer. The expressiveness
and gestures that are socially learnt hinder the full delineation of a
psychological character in the Western sense. Stanislavsky (1949)
uses the metaphor of a sheet of white paper criss-crossed with lines
to explain how social portraiture is a hindrance to acting. According
to Stanislavsky, it wouldn’t be possible to draw a portrait or
landscape on a sheet of paper that is already splotched with stains and
lines. These will blur and ruin the new drawing and they have to be
48 SAMUEL RAVENGAI

cleaned first. He argues that gestures (social portraiture) are the

equivalent of trash, dirt or spots on a sheet of paper.

An actor’s performance which is cluttered up with a multiplicity of

gestures will be like that messy sheet of paper. Therefore before he
undertakes the external creation of his character, the physical
interpretation, the transfer of the inner life of a part to its concrete
image, he must rid himself of all superfluous gestures. Only under those
conditions can he achieve the necessary sharpness of outline for its
physical embodiment. Unrestrained movements, natural though they
may be to the actor himself, only blur the design of part, make his
performance unclear, monotonous and uncontrolled (1949:73).

Although Stanislavsky is not necessarily referring to the African rural

performer, the implicit explanation of gestures here matches the rural
African embodied body. The question, then, is: can this be followed
to the letter without detrimental effects to the identity of the African
performer? Ruth Finnegan (1970) writing about oral literature in
Africa has observed gestures as one of the defining characteristics of
African oral performances. When watching African praise poets,
griots or even Nollywood actors, one notes that their level of social
portraiture is far higher than their European counterparts as
confirmed by Ruth Finnegan:

The art of oratory is in…Africa carried to a remarkable pitch of

perfection … each official spokesman stands up in turn and pours forth
a flood of speech, the readiness and exuberance of which strikes the
stranger with amazement, and accompanies his words with gestures so
various, graceful and appropriate that it is a pleasure to look … These
oratory displays appear to afford great enjoyment to the audience for
every African native is a born orator and a connoisseur of oratory …
(1970: 444).

It appears the skills that rural African performers bring to the acting
practice are not suitable for Western training. They have to be
discarded. Tafadzwa Muzondo’ s The Playwright’s Interview offered
a spectacular example of the conflict between a rural body and the
demands of Western acting. The play is a magic realist play which
presents the playwright (as main character) involved in the act of
creating his characters. It had some realistic moments, such as the
conflict between the playwright and his wife. For the magical realist
sequences, the rural actor was comfortable using his socially acquired
skills to puff and blow his characters into existence. When asked to
 THE DILEMMA OF THE AFRICAN BODY 49

argue with his wife in a realistic manner, the language betrayed him
as his investment was in the body. He was the best dancer the
department ever had. If this scene were to succeed (it failed), it would
have required that I deal with the tensions created in his body out of
socially learnt movements and patterns of speaking.
Another example can be derived from our production of Arthur
Miller’s Death of a Salesman. In its original form the characters are
white and were created by a white playwright. I used a casting
method now popular in North America called colour-blind casting.
Practitioners who employ it believe that all people can be used as
interchangeable parts, with talent being the only valid determinant in
casting. All performers reflected the two classes of Africans and I
chose to locate it in the USA instead of transposing it to Zimbabwe.
The willing suspension of belief in theatre makes this whole process
possible. For rural students, it wasn’t an issue of staging a play; it
was blacks performing their identity instead of the identity of white
characters that we wanted to enact. The urban performers were quite
comfortable and better in character conception than their rural
counterparts. The opposite was true when we performed Ama Ata
Aidoo’s The Dilemma of a Ghost. Performers with a rural
background took over the show and they could relate with the
characters. Their social portraiture looked appropriate. In fact, I
demanded even more external expressiveness to match the gestures
that would pass as West African. Southern Africans view West
Africans as being louder and more expressive than they are. Rural
performers staged the play as well as themselves, while it was most
difficult for the urban performer who played Eulalie Yawson. She
thought I was asking for far more than she was able to give. It was
out of sync with her natural habits and I kept saying that it was the
essence of acting; to be somebody else one is not. I realise she was
playing a different realism from the realism that others were playing
owing to her urban socialisation.
From these experiments I observed that Africans have their own
notion of realism, which is not synonymous with Western notions of
realism. It seems as if the psycho-technique, as far as building a
character is concerned, is Eurocentric and cannot fully help an
African with a rural background to develop as a performer. The urban
body, like the European body which it aspires to be, lacks the
expressiveness of the rural body. Before realism as movement, there
was no psycho-technique. In fact Stanislavsky began his career as a
symbolist director. In 1904 he directed three one-act plays by
50 SAMUEL RAVENGAI

Maurice Maeterlinck. In 1907 Stanislavsky and Leopold Sulerzhitsky

staged another symbolist play, The Drama of Life (Gordon, 1987).
When realism grew in force Stanislavsky crafted the psycho-
technique to deal with the demands of directing the realist dramas of
his contemporaries: Ibsen, Chekhov, Strindberg, Odets and others.
When the European bourgeois class took over power from feudal
monarchies and established bourgeois constitutional governments,
they appropriated realism as a creative method in the area of culture.
Stanislavsky provided the psycho-technique to help train actors in the
art of staging psychological realism. His techniques were copied and
used all over Europe and America to direct bourgeois theatre. The
question, then, is: Can a class and culture-specific training method be
used and produce the same results in a different class and cultural
contexts such as Africa?
It is indeed true that realism is not an exclusive European
creative method. Many African playwrights such as Tsitsi
Dangarembga, Ama Ata Aidoo and Stephen Chifunyise have
employed the same creative method in their works. However, their
African realism is not the same as Western realism. The explanation
of differences may require some kind of historical survey. The taking
over of power by the European bourgeoisie introduced a number of
changes to notions of realism in the European sense. Chinweizu et al.
(1980) argue that these changes saw the decline of royal, aristocratic
and divine heroes in European art and the subsequent rise in
bourgeois protagonists. Europe was secularised and that process was
reflected in European drama by the exclusion of spiritual deities, the
supernatural and other fantastical beings. In the drama of bourgeois
Europe divinities no longer appear as characters as they used in
Greco-Roman and medieval dramas. On the contrary, in African
realism, which has been called ‘magic realism’, humans interact with
the spirit world. Spirits intervene in human affairs such as the
Yawson clan in Aidoo’s The Dilemma of a Ghost, where it invokes
the ancestors to intervene in healing the perceived barrenness of
Eulalie Yawson. Chinweizu et al. succinctly describe the African
world as one

…defined by the common, received cosmographies which embrace in

their conception of human society the spirit world of the dead and the
unborn as well as the world of the living. It is a cosmography which
takes for granted interpenetration by these realms and intimate
interaction between their human and spirit inhabitants. In short, the
 THE DILEMMA OF THE AFRICAN BODY 51

African human universe is more inclusive than the revised and

attenuated official universe of Post-Renaissance Europe (1980:22).

When transposed into African realism, it follows that realities that are
admissible in African drama are more diverse than Western ones.
When these strange realities, fabulous and fantastical events are
included in the dramatic narrative that otherwise maintains the
reliable tone of an objective realistic report, the work of art comes
across as magic realism. The distinction between fantasy and reality
is blurred. The ordinary and the extraordinary sit side by side. Where
Stanislavsky demands concentration and imagination, magic realism
goes beyond that to present a kind of performance that requires
trance and/or possession. Trance would be considered lack of
discipline in the Stanislavskian system. In my directing of Aidoo’s
The Dilemma of a Ghost the performer playing Petu went into a
trance and delivered an incantation while sprinkling the medicine in
the courtyard to expel evil spirits. In Cont Mhlanga’s The Good
President the character playing the old woman became possessed by
the spirit of a granny and the audience had to endure the agony of the
performer at the end of the performance when the spirit was going
through the ritual of departing from its medium. I think that a
different realism requires a different system of training that embraces
some aspects of what the African body brings to the acting practice.
The psycho-technique is a creation of a director and not a
performer. It is, therefore, centred on the notion of depositing skills
in the actor, and sometimes negating what the actor brings to the
practice. For Stanislavsky, the actor in establishing character cannot
go beyond the technique of memory and observation. Truth is found
in human behaviour by observing and copying characteristics
according to given circumstances. Cannot the body and mind
produce a character? The actor is not empowered to use these raw
materials. The body is just a receptacle to absorb impressions and
perform them. On its own without the aid of externally imposed
technique, it is uncreative. I believe that the imaginative powers of
the actor can be a useful resource in the conception of character. The
danger of relying on personal history to establish character limits the
range of character proposals as a performer moves from one
production to another

But this constant repetition of the actor’s own nature in creating

different parts over the years causes a progressive degeneration of
talent. The creative means are used less and less. Eventually, the actor
52 SAMUEL RAVENGAI

will begin to imitate himself; relying, for the most part, on repeated
personal mannerisms and stage clichés (Gordon, 1987:115).

The psycho-technique in its early form (and regrettably many of us

use it unquestioningly) required bodies of performers that the acting
master would fill with ideas that made them superior tools for the
director’s artifice. Stanislavsky “was forced to admit that [his] style
of directing utterly blocked the actor’s own creativity, rendering them
mere puppets in the director’s hands” (Merlin, 2007:179). When used
on rural African bodies with a different bodily embodiment, it asks
them to reject their socially acquired skills in order to be filled with
new tools of influencing the subconscious through conscious means.
The training master is at the centre of pedagogy. This is what Paulo
Freire (1972) calls the “banking concept of education”, where the
master deposits his knowledge in the actors, while the actors accept
the skills passively. Freire (1972) argues that “authentic knowledge”
is carried on by A with B and that at the point of encounter “there are
neither utter ignoramuses nor perfect sages; there are only men who
are attempting, together, to learn more than they now know” (1972:
71). Ngugi wa Thiong’o describes such a theatre training ethos as:

…part of the bourgeois education system which practices education as a

process of weakening people … in other words education as a means of
mystifying knowledge and hence reality. Education, far from giving
people the confidence in their ability and capacities to overcome
obstacles or to become masters of the laws governing external nature as
human beings, tends to make them feel their inadequacies, their
weaknesses and their incapacities in the face of reality; and their
inability to do anything about the conditions governing their lives
(1981:56).

My proposal is that the training of actors should empower them

rather than take away from what they already possess in their voices
and bodies. In fact the reformed psycho-technique, better known as
the Method of Physical Actions (but less popular than the old
psycho-technique), addressed some of the weaknesses of the psycho-
technique. My proposal of an acting pedagogy borrows from
Stanislavsky’s method of physical actions which he thought about
between 1922-24 during his European and North American tour. It
was a time of reflection and he became reconciled with Vakhtangov
on his deathbed. Stanislavsky realised his resistance to Vakhtangov’s
discoveries was a generational conflict rather than an artistic
 THE DILEMMA OF THE AFRICAN BODY 53

disagreement. From 1925 Stanislavsky overhauled his system and

incorporated some ideas from Vakhtangov, Meyerhold and Michael
Chekhov (Gordon, 1987) to establish the method of physical actions.
He might have been under pressure from the Soviet government to
revise his psychological side of training, as under the “Soviet regime,
anything psychological was considered to be idealistic and decadent”
(Merlin 2007:186). Michael Chekhov had met the brute force of
Soviet impatience with anything that sought to touch on religion and
the human psyche. According to Gordon (1987), because of
Chekhov’s use of Eurhythmy and his interest in Steinerism10
(completely forbidden in Soviet culture) he was declared a “sick
artist”, “alien and reactionary” by the public press. Perhaps
Stanislavsky’s motivation for change could have been his own
artistic belief. The method of physical actions gave agency to the
actors and this was consistent with the socialist realist ethos which
projected human beings as ‘doing’ creatures whose endeavours could
change society. Stanislavsky invested creative abilities in the body as
opposed to the mind. Gordon spells out the benefits that accrued to
the actor as a result of this shift:

…the Method of Physical Actions equally distributed creative

responsibilities for the production between the performers and the
director. No more could the actor remain passive, waiting for cues and
corrections from the omniscient director with his holy prompt book; nor
was the director at the mercy of self-inspired performers (1987:208).

The method of physical actions valued what actors brought to their

acting practice. They generated creative discoveries in a rehearsal
space through their bodies, however embodied, rather than relying on
their brains as in the earlier version of the psycho-technique.
Stanislavsky abandoned every element of the psycho-technique
except the given circumstances, the magic if and imagination, which
he used to guide the physical actions that actors had chosen. It was
the body that fed the actor’s imagination to prompt it into making
discoveries. Internal feeling and choice of character could be arrived
at by movement, action and rhythm. Although the plan of the method
of physical actions has twenty-five stages, Merlin (2007) has
compressed them to three stages relying on Sharon Carnicke:

1. Identify the purposeful OBJECTIVE of the BIT (sic) you are

exploring …
54 SAMUEL RAVENGAI

2. Compile your ‘score of physical actions’ by listing all the little

things you have to do to pursue your OBJECTIVE.
3. Test that ‘score of physical actions’ by means of a SILENT
ETUDE, so that you play out that BIT of the scene without words
… (2007:188).

This is the basis upon which a progressive training programme can

be developed. It does not have any class bias and can be used for any
genre of drama. The psycho-technique is more useful for realist play
texts.
I share Stanislavsky’s, Vakhtangov’s and Michael Chekhov’s
disappointment with the earlier version of the psycho-technique, but
do not necessarily agree with some of their solutions to the problems.
Whilst a pedagogy that empowers the actor – such as the one
Chekhov and Vakhtangov propose – is useful, I don’t agree with
some of its methods such as Eurhythmy, which depends on Hindu
and Steinerism’s spiritual connection (Gordon, 1987: 140). This is an
imposition on the actor who may not necessarily practice such a
religion. What does the African actor bring to the practice that can
produce the same results? His dance movements in African rituals
could be an interesting starting point to discover character, as long as
this does not become exportable to other class members who don’t
necessarily share the belief.
The use of etudes – directed improvisations first used by
Leopold Sulerzhitsky (Gordon, 1987: 68) – as a way of discovering
character is the key to my proposed acting pedagogy. These should
be done in the context of given circumstances and the intended
objective to be fulfilled. The exercises/improvisations should be
composed of material common to the various subcultures in which it
is to be used. Borrowing from Stanislavsky’s method of physical
actions, the early improvisations should not employ any language.
Stanislavsky preferred gibberish or ‘nonsense words’. Intention and
how the body plays those intentions is more important than language.
Language tends to limit or cage the actors by requiring that it be
remembered by rote and it be spoken in a way consistent with the
theatre practice of a given country. Gibberish frees the actor from
that limitation. In subsequent etudes the actors can verbalise their
thoughts in their own words and language. Where possible, the
exercises should be done in the language of trainees. I am aware
some universities in South Africa have started offering bilingual
acting classes, where students are trained and perform in their mother
tongue such as Afrikaans and Xhosa. At the University of Zimbabwe
 THE DILEMMA OF THE AFRICAN BODY 55

first-years perform in their language of competence. English

language tends to limit trainees with a strong rural background, as
they cannot match the competence of their urban counterparts. In a
conversation with one of the first-years before these changes had
taken effect, he likened the unfair advantage of urban learners had
over rural learners to a race where other competitors had no starting
blocks.

The whole system is not fair. It’s like we are all involved in a race and
some athletes have got starting blocks and others don’t have; the
winners are obvious, there is no question. We must all have starting
blocks for the race to be fair (Ravengai, 2003, Interview with a
student; Personal Journal).

These adjustments will ensure that the training material stimulates

equal degrees of interest and motivation for performers of various
subcultures.
In working with various subgroups of Africans, I came to
observe that whatever problems they were experiencing in playing
their roles could not be linked to and/or blamed on their bodily
embodiments. I found the mistakes in the psycho-technique itself as
explained above. The more I changed the system itself, the better
results I achieved. Does this mean ethnoscenology is anarchical
chaos? Where is the place of the writer’s words? Is it a way of
legitimising an easy paraphrasing of the writer’s work? By no means.
Each improvisation is backed by what Merlin (2007) calls mental
reconnaissance based on analysis of the play text. This acting
pedagogy makes sure that actors resort to the writer’s words only at
the right time, when they feel the character and that an acceptable
level of possessing the words (as opposed to learning by rote) has
been achieved.

NOTES

1 Although the notion of the West began geographically in Western

Europe, the term is used in this article as a descriptor of an idea that
places all countries that are developed, industrialised, urbanised,
capitalist, secular and modern, including USA and Japan, even
though there are not in Western Europe (see Hall and Gieben,
1992).
2 Whereas realism has been used as a descriptor of any art that
56 SAMUEL RAVENGAI

tries to copy or imitate nature, including modernist plays that

explore psychical reality, in this article Western realism is used to
refer to an artistic movement normally associated with Eugene
Scribe, which borrowed the Aristotelian Freytag pyramid structure
and created psychological characters inhabiting a fictional world
that mirrored the real world.
3 The Dilemma of a Ghost (2003), Death of a Salesman (2003),
Antigone (2004), The Lion and the Jewel (2005), Playwright’s
Interview (2007) [Muzondo, T (unpublished)].
4 It was necessary for them to get a full picture of my intentions and
get their consent for ethical reasons. I have, however, left out the
names of participants in order to protect their identities.
5 This binary of rural and urban is only used for purposes of analysis.
Rural areas are also becoming more and more Westernized. A
considerable number of African elites – teachers, pastors, nurses,
doctors, agricultural extension workers and shop owners (see
Weinrich, 1973) – also live and raise their children in rural areas.
Different sections of the African elite in rural and urban areas have
been initiated to different degrees into Western culture. For the
urban elites the contact has been more intense, while for rural elites
the contact has only been superficial.
6 Braj B Kachru devotes a whole book to this subject. See his 1986
book The Alchemy of English: The Spread, Functions, and Models
of Non-native Englishes.
7 SRBs is a pejorative term to refer to Africans in Zimbabwe who are
traditional and lacking complexity in speech, fashion, taste and
style. Nose Brigades is also a pejorative epithet used by SRBs to
refer to Africans who are black outside, but white inside – the
equivalent of the South African ‘Coconut’. The reference to the
nose derives from the speakers’ inclination to want to nasalise
English words when speaking in English. Salad (from white salad
cream) is connotatively used to explain the white culture that urban
blacks have assimilated. They are as white, soft and fragile as salad
cream.
8 Elias does not use the term ‘civilised’ in its evolutionary sense. He
uses it to refer to processes which encompass the degree of internal
pacification in a society; the refinement of customs; the amount of
self-restraint and reflexivity involved in social relations; and the
experiences of growing up in a society (see Shilling, 1997).
9 Both Vakhtangov and Michael Chekhov believed that external
stimuli from outside personal experiences could fire actors’
emotions and imaginations, while Stanislavsky believed emotions
could be influenced by remembering a past event. The method of
physical actions, however, turned this earlier position upside down.
 THE DILEMMA OF THE AFRICAN BODY 57

10 Eurhythmy was a form of dance-movement invented by Rudolf

Steiner (1861-1925) which had spiritual, aesthetic and therapeutic
values and functions. Steinerism is a form of religion practised by
Steiner’s followers (Anthroposophists). Chekhov became a
follower and used the dance movements as a way of reaching at
character.

REFERENCES
Aidoo, Ama A. 1965. The Dilemma of a Ghost. New York: Longman.
Anouilh, Jean. 1951. Antigone. London: Methuen & Co.
Araujo, Darron. 2009. Vocal Schizophrenia or Conscious Flexibility?
Shifting Vocal Identities within the South African Student Actor and
some Potential Implications for Basic Voice Training. MA research
paper, Cape Town: Drama Department, Postgraduate Administration
Office.
Belshaw, Diana. 2008. Empowering Actors: Devised Theatre Training at
Humber College. In Canadian Theatre Review 135: 76-78.
Bourdieu, Pierre. 1993. The Field of Cultural Production: Essays on Art and
Literature. Cambridge: Polity Press
________. 1986. The Forms of Capital. In Richardson, J .ed. Handbook of
Theory and Research for the Sociology of Education. New York:
Greenwood Press.
Bourdillon, Michael. F. C. 1993. Where are the Ancestors? Changing
Culture in Zimbabwe. Harare: UZ Publications.
Callery, Dymphna. 2001. Through the Body: A Practical Guide to Physical
Theatre. London: Nick Hern Books.
Chinweizu et al. 1980. Toward the Decolonization of African Literature:
African Fiction and Poetry and their Critics Enugu: Fourth Dimension.
Dittmar, Norbert. 1976. Sociolinguistics: A Critical Survey of Theory and
Application. London: Edward Arnold Ltd.
Elias, Norbert. 1983. The Court Society. Oxford, Basil Blackwell.
Foucault, Michel. 1979. Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison.
Harmondsworth: Peregrine Books.
Finnegan, Ruth. 1970. Oral Literature in Africa. Nairobi: Oxford University
Press.
58 SAMUEL RAVENGAI

Fischer-Lichte, E .1992. The Semiotics of Theatre. Indianapolis: Indiana

University Press.
Freire, Paulo. 1972. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. London: Penguin Books.
Gelfand, Michael. 1976. The Genuine Shona. Gwelo: Mambo Press.
Goffman, Erving. 1976. Gender Advertisements. New York: Harper and
Row Publishers.
Gordon, Mel. 1987. The Stanislavsky Technique: Russia – A Workbook for
Actors. New York: Applause Theatre Book Publishers.
Hall, Stuart and Gieben, Bram (Eds). 1992. Formations of Modernity.
Cambridge: Polity Press.
Merlin, Bella. 2007. The Complete Stanislavsky Toolkit. London: Nick Hern
Books.
Mills, Elizabeth. 2008. Theatre Voice: Practice, Performance and Cultural
Identity. Unpublished paper presented at the Dramatic Learning Spaces
Conference, Pietermaritzburg.
Ngara, Emmanuel. 1990. African Literature: Poetry, Ideology and Form in
African Poetry. London, Heinemann.
Osofisan, Femi. 2007. Literary Theatre after the Generals: A Personal
Itinerary, Keynote Address 2007 ITFR, Stellenbosch.
Pavis, Patrice. 2003. Analyzing Performance: Theater, Dance and Film
(Translation David Williams). Ann Arbor: University of Michigan
Press.
Price, Max. 2010. Is there a place for ‘race’ in a university selection policy?
http://www.uct.ac.za/downloads/uct.ac.za/news/media/oped/VC_race_a
dmissions_04_10.pdf accessed 24 July 2010.
Ravengai, Samuel. 2010. Contesting Constructions of Cultural Production
in and through Urban Theatre in Rhodesia, c. 1890-1950. London:
James Currey.
Shilling, Chris. 1997. The Body and Difference. In Woodward, K. (Ed).
Identity and Difference. London: Sage Publications.
Stanislavsky, Constantin. 1949. Building a Character. London: Reinhardt
and Evans.
Wa Thiong’o, Ngugi. 1981. Decolonising the Mind: The Politics of
Language in African Literature. Harare: Zimbabwe Publishing House.
Weinrich, Anna, K. H. 1973. Black and White Elites in Rural Rhodesia.
Manchester: Manchester University Press.
 THE DILEMMA OF THE AFRICAN BODY 59

Zarilli, Philip B. 1995. What does it mean to ‘become the character’: Power,
Presence, and Transcendence in Asian in-body Disciplines of Practice.
In Schechner, R and Appel, W. (Eds). By Means of Performance:
Intercultural Studies of Theatre and Ritual. Cambridge, Cambridge
University Press.
CHAPTER 2

INTERCULTURALISM REVISITED: IDENTITY

CONSTRUCTION IN AFRICAN AND AFRICAN-
CARIBBEAN PERFORMANCE
KENE IGWEONU

INTRODUCTION
In her book on applied drama Helen Nicholson recognizes that
identity is not “constructed autonomously but in relation to others,
through both language and other symbolic codes available in
different cultural practices” (Nicholson, 2005: 65). In particular,
Nicholson’s allusion to identity as being perceptible through “other
symbolic codes” could be seen in the light of Diana Taylor’s
insistence that the cultural body is central to issues of identity
(Taylor: 2003: 86). Identity is central to discussions about
interculturalism and has continued to generate heated debates about
the appropriateness of engaging with cultural practices recognized as
being, in one or other shape or form, distant from one’s own culture.1
Much of African-Caribbean performance and literature deal with the
question of identity, usually through a continuous re/negotiation of
the past, in relation to cultural origin, geographic origin and the
debilitating experience of transatlantic slavery, in an effort to come to
terms with, and make sense of, present realities. Among many others,
plays such as Dream on Monkey Mountain and Ti-Jean and His
Brothers by the Nobel Laureate Derek Walcott illustrate this
commitment.
African culture features prominently in this process of
continuous searching for roots by the Caribbean people in the desire
to, perhaps, escape the debilitating experience of slavery and the
persistent feeling of alienation as a result of their position as
unwilling exiles in the land that has now become home, whether this
is in the Caribbean, America, Europe, or any other part of the world
which erstwhile slaves settled. The desire to get away from the
62 KENE IGWEONU

alienation of forced exile instinctively leads to the search for roots in

Africa because of its position as the cultural and geographic origin of
the African-Caribbean people. It is to the reinforcement of this link
with Africa, shared by people of African descent, that pan-
Africanism alludes. Robert Chrisman considers the pan-African
vision as being hinged on the “basic premise that we the people of
African descent throughout the globe constitute a common cultural
and political community by virtue of our origin in Africa and our
common racial, social and economic oppression” (1973: 2). Pan-
Africanism expresses the idea that people of African descent have to
unite (symbolically and politically) in order to challenge or overcome
their sense of alienation and marginalization. Timothy Murithi
considers pan-Africanism as “a recognition of the fragmented nature
of the existence of Africans, their marginalization and alienation
whether in their own continent or in the Diaspora” (2005: 7). Hence
African-Caribbean people look to Africa for a reaffirmation of their
identity, and as a means of dealing with their sense of alienation.
Osita Okagbue goes further by suggesting that “the undying
memory and presence of Africa in the consciousness of her children
in the diaspora is responsible for the persistent feeling of exile and
rootlessness of the African-Caribbean, and that it is a feeling that,
very often, is matched by a nostalgic longing to return home to
mother Africa” (2001: 150). This longing to return home did not
always signify a desire for a physical return to the African continent;2
rather it is most often symbolic of the African-Caribbean’s
recognition of, and commitment to, the psychic and cultural
connection to Africa. Writing about this pan-African feeling, Rupert
Emerson declares;

… all Africans have a spiritual affinity with each other and [a sense]
that, having suffered together in the past, they must march together into
a new and brighter future (cited in Nantambu, 1998: 562).

It is this psychic and cultural connection to Africa that forms the core
of what Emerson refers to as “spiritual affinity.” However, it is not
unusual for physical returnees to Africa to compound their state of
alienation and exile, since they in turn become outsiders in the
context of the local communities that they encounter, often resulting
in conflict3.
This chapter will attempt to re-encode the parameters of
intercultural theory in the context of a relation between Africa and
the Caribbean, a problematic relation that becomes legible, in this
 INTERCULTURALISM REVISITED 63

case, through the practice of dance. In attempting to renegotiate

intercultural theory, as it relates to the exchange between Africa and
the Caribbean, in relation to dancing techniques and styles, I will
examine how African-Caribbean performance practice challenges the
notion of African authenticity, while at the same time retaining a
genealogical link to its African past. Here Joseph Roach’s conception
of circum-Atlantic interculture as the culture of modernity created
out of what he terms the “diasporic and genocidal histories of Africa
and the Americas” (1996: 4) becomes useful in unpacking this
embodied relationship between Africa and the Caribbean. It is hoped
that the discussion of African dance in a transnational context will
open up my treatment of the term intercultural, particularly the ways
in which transnational dispersions of the African forms have taken
them in new directions.

SLAVERY, SURVIVAL AND SUBVERSION IN AFRICAN-

CARIBBEAN PERFORMANCE

In the period of Caribbean slavery, visible manifestations of African

culture, where powerful forms of African-centred maleness were
common, were considered a threat to colonial order and banned. A
famous example of this is the silencing of the kalinda drums in Trinidad
in 1881, leading to significant riots. If evident African theatricality was
considered subversive and prevented, then a more subtle and more
easily hidden form of theatricality had to be developed to give slaves
and freed slaves an opportunity to practice subversion without
discovery (Savory, 1999: 222-223).

Elaine Savory’s submission, equally echoed in Yvonne Daniel’s

Dancing Wisdom (2005), illustrates the difficulty experienced by the
slaves during the plantation era, especially of not being at liberty to
publicly engage with aspects of African culture such as ritual
worship, with which the slaves were familiar and from which they
could derive a sense of identity.
African rituals were considered subversive, because they not only
reinforced a sense of dignity and identity in the slaves, but were
means of articulating the unveiled cruelty of slavery to the ancestors,
soliciting their comfort and intervention. Often, as in most traditional
African communities, these rituals would lead to a state of super-
physical intervention during which answers could come in the guise
of a satirical performance, animatedly addressing the issues and
stipulating a change. Super-physical intervention is used here to
64 KENE IGWEONU

describe the bodily manifestation of spirit possession as witnessed in

rituals such as the bori of the Hausa-Fulani people of northern
Nigeria. A prominent feature of bori performance is spirit possession
or entrancement. It is essentially a ritual of healing and an instrument
of redress for an often marginalized Hausa female population in a
patriarchal society. The outcome of these rituals was considered
seditious and as a result ritual worship among the slaves was frowned
upon and often punished, resulting in the tradition of their being
driven underground. Alternatively, slave owners compelled their
slaves to adopt the Christian religion in the hope of extinguishing
interest in African ritual practices. Of this venture Taylor observes,
“indigenous performances, paradoxically, seem to be transferred and
reproduced within the very symbolic system designed to eliminate
them: Roman Catholicism” (Taylor, 2003: 44). Since the African
slaves were converted and permitted to participate in Christian
religious worship, they managed to perpetuate some of the African
rituals with the guise of Christianity.
Religious affiliations in the Caribbean follow a pattern similar to
the distribution of colonial languages in the region.
http://wwwa.britannica.com/memberlogin Catholicism is pre-
dominant in the Spanish and French Caribbean, while
http://wwwa.britannica.com/memberlogin Protestantism is do-
minant in the Commonwealth Caribbean and the Dutch territories.
The influence of African religious worship on Christianity is
particularly evident in Catholicism, because of its devotion to
numerous patron saints and their images. This development is aptly
expounded in Gerardo Mosquera’s study on the impact of African
culture in Latin America.

Afro-American development was affected by colonial Catholicism,

always ready to repress any creation of “idols.” Ritual objects had to be
disguised, and Catholic imagery was appropriated through syncretic
representations of its saints and Virgins, who were then associated with
the Yoruba and Ewe-Fon pantheons, a development coherent with the
undercover polytheism of the devotion to Mary and the saints….it was
obvious that if Saint Barbara was dressed in red, carried a weapon, and
was associated with thunder, she must be Shango, the virile Yoruba god
of thunder. The sexual contradiction was explained by saying that
Shango was the “male Santa Barbara” (Mosquera, 1992: 32).

The African slaves needed a discreet but effective tool through which
subversion could be carried out. The choice of dance as a viable
 INTERCULTURALISM REVISITED 65

medium of subversion during the slave era is perhaps not

unconnected to the issue of deliberate dispersal of the slaves from the
same language groups. More directly, it relates to the role of dance,
according to Taylor, as “embodied cultural memory” (2003: 86),
possessing the capacity to generate and sustain communication at a
different level from speech. To avoid detection and attendant
retribution, dance gained ascendancy among the slaves as a medium
of self-expression because of the perceived inability of these African
slaves to communicate orally with each other in any language other
than that of the colonial slave masters.
Since the colonial slave masters exercised control over the
spoken language, the slaves saw in dance the possibility for open
subversion without the attendant risk of discovery and punishment.
“African music, songs, and dances, on the other hand, were
considered tolerable and even desirable entertainment, thus
permitting the expansion of an activity that deeply affected both the
ritual and the profane” (Mosquera, 1992: 32). Correspondingly, in
her analysis of the historical precedent to black theatre in the New
World, Genevieve Fabre comments on the seditious role of dance
during the slave era, noting that white slave owners were derided in
dances that seemed to praise or entertain them.

Slaves were thus able to express their dissatisfaction and unhappiness

without risking punishment for their insolence…Their rhyming form
and accompanying melodies made the lampoons easy to remember, and
they passed easily into popular wisdom. Dance and mime also played
important roles; using precise gestures and minimum of direction, the
performances took on the appearance of a show (Fabre, 1983: 4).

Dance, therefore, served as a powerful tool with which the slaves

were able to keep in touch with their roots and through which
subversion could be carried out under the watchful eyes of the slave
masters without detection.
Savory also views mask in African culture as “a series of codes
signifying multiple levels of the personality” (1999: 222), which she
claims make them a powerful tool for subversion. That masking in
Africa is connotative of multiple levels of personality and existence
is apparent. In most instances the donning of an African mask by a
performer signifies the presence of an ancestral spirit which
possesses the body of the masked individual, thus revealing a
transitory self, separate from the performer, which uses the
performer’s body to make contact with the community. This view is
66 KENE IGWEONU

supported by Carol Finley’s observation that “the purpose of the

mask is not only to conceal the identity of the wearer. The mask
actually creates a new identity – one from the spirit world” (Finley,
1999: 13). It is misleading, however, to construe African masks as
used mainly for subversion.
Understandably, Savory’s perception of the art of masking is
ostensibly derived from Western practices, where masks are used as
instruments of subversion and disguise, as opposed to the African
tradition where masks are used, in Finley’s words, “primarily for
religious and ritual purposes that have no parallel in European-based
societies” (1999: 61). In African performances involving the use of
masks it is not necessarily the masks that are subversive, rather it is
the performance itself. Masking in Africa is a medium through which
the spirit-performer intervenes or carries out his role in the
community. Based on his study of the Igede masquerade of the
Benue people of Nigeria, Robert W. Nicholls writes that “as
receptacle for supernatural forces, the mask invests the ceremony
with ancestral authority” (1984: 70). In other words, the mask
connotes authority or gives credence to what is being performed, but
is not subversive in itself in African culture because, once you create
a mask, the character or personality represented by that mask is
invariably elevated to the position of an ancestor or god with vast
authority over the living. Thus a mask, once embodied, becomes a
medium or vehicle through which the spiritual interfaces with the
physical. The degree of authority exercised by individual masks as a
consequence of the resultant interface, however, is dependent on the
nature and reverential status they occupy within their respective
communities.

RE/NEGOTIATING INTERCULTURALISM
Interface can be described as a medium of interaction, which in
relation to the slave era would mean sets of instructions and
arrangements relied on by indigenous West Indian populations of
slaves, indentured workers and plantation owners to enable them to
coexist. In this respect, interface would refer to a common language,
institution, or institutional practice through which they could all
relate. I am disposed, however, to explore interface as a verb. In this
case interface serves as an indicator of the actual interaction that
takes place or exists between the cultures represented by these groups
and the resultant aesthetic it generates. Even though African-
Caribbean culture has its roots in Africa, its forced interaction with
 INTERCULTURALISM REVISITED 67

other cultures has invariably led to the emergence of a new cultural

aesthetic. However, it is important to note that despite being a
synthesis of African, Indigenous West Indian and European cultures,
the African-Caribbean culture is a distinct culture in its own right. To
this end, I find Roach’s notion of circum-Atlantic interculture useful
to this discussion. Roach argues that this interculture, as he puts it,
derives from the diversity of cultural contributions that shapes it. He
goes on to affirm that “the scope of the circum-Atlantic interculture
may be discerned most vividly by means of performance that it
engendered” (Roach, 1996: 5). Continuing in this vein, Roach
observes that this is true because “performances so often carry within
them the memory of otherwise forgotten substitutions – those that
were rejected and, even more invisibly, those that have succeeded”
(1996: 5).
Despite my classification of African-Caribbean culture as a
unique cultural manifestation, it is nonetheless problematic to speak
of the own and foreign in relation to African and African-Caribbean
performance practices. Surrounding the notions of own and foreign is
that seemingly pervasive theory of interculturalism which has come
to represent a variety of things to different people, as is evident in its
disparate use and application in scholarship and artistic endeavours.
For instance, performance theorist Richard Schechner is readily
associated with the neoliberalist perspective of interculturalism in
which scholars and artists alike are presented with endless
possibilities in their journey across national, international and
cultural boundaries towards the elimination of cultural differences
and the emergence of a global culture.4 On the other end of the
continuum are yet other performance theorists such as Rustom
Bharucha, who believes that Schechner’s approach to
interculturalism is flawed, because it does not take indigenous
contexts and the intricacies of contributory cultures adequately into
account.5
Even though interculturalism is based on a philosophy of
exchanges between cultural entities, often involving sharing,
borrowing or barefaced appropriation of cultural materials from other
cultures, it is becoming increasingly difficult to define. Carl Weber’s
definition, however, captures this theory as it is widely used,
describing it as signifying the “transactions between separate
indigenous cultural systems when, either unilaterally or mutually,
elements of one culture are accepted or adopted in the other culture”
(1991: 28). This definition lends a neocolonialist perspective to the
68 KENE IGWEONU

concept of interculturalism, especially with the way it attempts to

maintain Western hegemony by subsuming cultural materials from
the East/Africa6 and representing them through Western performance
idioms. This is the crux of Rustom Bharucha’s thesis in which he
argues that interculturalism does not signify the same thing in the
East as it does in the West. This is because the difference in
perception is directly attributable to the opportunities that economic
strength provides. For instance, it is often easier for scholars based in
the West to organize resources for research work in Africa, but the
same is not true for Africa-based scholars intending to conduct
research in the West.

It is naïve to assume that interculturalism is an overriding global

phenomenon that transcends the differences of class, race and history. I
think it should be acknowledged that the implications of
interculturalism are very different for people in impoverished,
‘developing’ countries like India, and for people in technologically
advanced, capitalist societies like America (Bharucha, 1984b; 255).

Here Bharucha presents us with the incongruity of interculturalism as

a metatheory that can be applied to the interaction of opposite
cultures, irrespective of where this occurs, that is, in the West or the
East/Africa.
Since interculturalism is rooted in the notions of own and
foreign, or self and other, it is susceptible to charges of ethnocentrism
or oversimplification. An individual’s perception and the
appropriation of cultural materials belonging to the other can be
fraught with personal or cultural prejudices to such an extent that this
other culture is disadvantaged. Even where interculturalism is based
on notions of the universality of performance, which presupposes the
dissolution of boundaries between aspects of own and foreign, as
Richard Schechner would suggest, the danger still exists of
surreptitious imposition of own canons on the foreign so that the own
is privileged above the other even without seeming or intending to
be.7 This is the scenario put forward by Gerardo Mosquera in which
interculturally sensitive artists “slightly ‘de-westernize’ western
culture – understood as the international culture of the contemporary
world – by molding it according to non-western views, sensitivities,
and contents” (1992: 35). A case in point is Peter Brook’s The
Mahabharata, which is typical of the form of interculturalism in
which Eastern cultures and traditions are appropriated and
 INTERCULTURALISM REVISITED 69

decontextualized, with Western performance culture and tradition

being privileged over it.
Interculturalism is usually evocative of the appropriation of non-
Eastern cultures by scholars and artists from the West. On the other
hand, transculturation, a term devised by the Cuban anthropologist
Fernando Ortiz in 1940, is suggestive of the “transformative process
undergone by a society in the acquisition of foreign cultural material
– the loss or displacement of a society’s culture due to the acquisition
or imposition of foreign material, and the fusion of the indigenous
and the foreign to create a new, original cultural product” (Taylor,
1991: 61). Apart from the transformation implied in the imposing of
Western cultures through colonisation, it must be noted that global
media and commodities export have also impacted on non-Western
cultures to such an extent that various local cultures are now under
considerable threat of extinction. This trend is aptly summed up in
Weber’s account of the impact of transculturation on non-Western
cultures.

The trend labelled ‘transculturation’ has, indeed, pervaded on a global

scale through the media. ‘Western,’ which in this context means
European or North American ideology, its values, structure, and
contents are inscribed in the predominant models for performance
accepted by most contemporary societies, models that partly ingest,
partly destroy indigenous cultural values and forms. Indeed, non-
Western cultures have already been greatly changed by the process, as
can be observed in many Asian and African nations…. Or, to put it in
historical perspective, a second colonization of the so-called third world
(Weber, 1991: 28).

The thrust of Weber’s arguments seems to suggest that even though

they are often used interchangeably by scholars like him,
transculturation is intrinsically different from interculturalism. This is
because interculturalism is to all intents and purposes a Western
phenomenon involving the artistic negotiation of cultural boundaries
with the aim of producing a predominantly Western cultural artefact
mediated by Eastern/African cultures. And in performance it is to this
form of interculturalism, in which aspects of Eastern/African cultures
are fused with Western performance tradition, that Peter Brook’s
Mahabharata lends itself. This is unlike what happens when African
and African-Caribbean dances are fused together in performance.
The attendant borrowing across these two related cultures does not
evoke the same sentiments as intercultural borrowings and
70 KENE IGWEONU

appropriations between the West and Africa, because of the notion of

the circum-Atlantic interculture to which African-Caribbean
performance lends itself. Circum-Atlantic interculture is akin to
transculturation to the extent that they both refer to transformative
encounters with foreign cultures. However, I find circum-Atlantic
interculture more apt in describing African-Caribbean culture
because, unlike transculturation, it is “region-centred” (Roach, 1996:
5) and specific.
Taylor notes that transculturation “affects the entire culture; it
involves the shifting of socio-political, not just aesthetic, borders; it
modifies collective and individual identity; it changes discourse, both
verbal and symbolic” (Taylor, 1991: 60). Consequently,
transculturation does not only imply the interaction of opposite
cultures, but simultaneously denotes the product of that interface.
Colonization in Africa, for instance, has produced local cultures that
are not the same as indigenous ones, but which are at the same time,
different from Western or colonial cultures. These local cultures are
usually the result of a direct imposition of Western culture on
Eastern/African indigenous cultures through colonization and, in
more recent times, through globalization by means of the ever-
increasing Western films and commodities exports and the
advancement of Euro-American forms of democracy. This goes to
show that theatrical hybrids such as Peter Brook’s Mahabharata
cannot be described as transcultural, contrary to Weber’s submission
that “any ‘transcultural’ experiment will be traded as a device that
employs exotic ingredients to make the product more palatable, i.e.,
marketable” (1991: 29). By attempting to draw a distinction between
inter- verses trans-cultural flows of culture, I wish to draw attention
to the ways in which much dance and theatre scholarship has
erroneously attributed the word intercultural to works that fail to
fully interrogate each cultural form represented in a play or dance.
Transculturation is to Africa what interculturalism is to the West.
In other words, transcultural performances occur within the context
of Eastern/African cultures, where the imposition of Western
theatrical conventions is not necessarily seen as oppositional to the
local cultures because of the transformative impact of colonization
and globalization (or more appropriately Westernization) on
indigenous traditions. Intercultural performance, on the other hand, is
selective of the foreign elements it draws on and the degree to which
they are used, making sure it only incorporates or appropriates those
aspects of the Eastern/African culture that will enhance its Western
 INTERCULTURALISM REVISITED 71

perspective. As it stands, interculturalism does not seem adequate as

a theory for exploring the sort of interaction that takes place between
African and African-Caribbean cultures. This is the subject of
Okagbue’s thesis on intercultural exchange between African and
Caribbean theatre in which he argues that Euro-American
intercultural theatre presupposes an interpretation of the foreign for
its own audiences, or an outright appropriation of aspects of the
foreign for the enhancement of its own. He advocates instead a new
intercultural critical terminology in describing the unique form of
intercultural exchange between Africa and the Caribbean.8 In trying
to extend Okagbue’s vision of a new intercultural critical
terminology that will best describe the cultural exchange between
Africa and African-Caribbean performance traditions, I wish to
propose interactional diffusion based on Roach’s notion of circum-
Atlantic interculture.
Interactional diffusion recognizes the negotiation across cultures
that are deeply related to each other. Invariably, interactional
diffusion supposes the intermingling of performance elements from
various cultural sources based on a mutual interface. The areas of
mutual interface can be determined on the basis of a shared
commitment to specific forms and content or performance technique
found in contributory cultures ,which makes it difficult to distinguish
between the own and the foreign. As I have previously noted, one of
the hallmarks of the phenomenon I refer to as interactional diffusion
is the manifestation of a new cultural reality. The evolved culture is
thus not the same as those cultures from which it is derived. In
essence, cultures that evolve through this process of interactional
diffusion can be seen as being liminal cultures; that is, they do not
conform perfectly to, or belong entirely to, the own cultures. Roach
aptly contextualize observations made by the British-born American
architect, Benjamin Henry Latrobe, about the product of this circum-
Atlantic performance culture.

What he had seen and heard was a convergence of dance and musical
forms, clustered feats of daring and invention, which were deeply
indebted to Africa yet no longer of it – living proofs of its
impermanence and unforgetability. They emerged from the margins of
circum-Atlantic performance culture, from ‘in back of the town,’ a
displaced transmission, rising, phoenix-like, from the ashes of diaspora
and genocide on wings of song (Roach, 1996: 66).
72 KENE IGWEONU

In essence, circum-Atlantic performance culture, what I refer to as

‘new’ or evolved culture, is not liminal in the sense of being
evanescent or fleeting; rather its liminal nature is a result of its
inherently unique quality which places it in perspective as being
neither entirely true to its dominant root culture or too distant from
the same. It is, therefore, not surprising to find African performance
artists, choreographers and directors who are adept at incorporating
dance movements from African-Caribbean culture because of their
acquiescent characteristics that makes it possible to do so without
prejudicing any in favour of the other. An example is Peter Badejo’s
production of Emi Ijo (The Heart of Dance),9 which makes use of
kumina dance from Jamaica to tell the story of the migration of black
people to Britain from Africa and the Caribbean.
In Emi Ijo the kumina dance was used effectively to represent the
worship and influence of Olokun, the Yoruba goddess of the sea, on
the migrant blacks who were transported to Britain aboard ships. The
kumina dance was able to fill this role because it presents elements of
spirit possession or trance, in which the dancer’s movements are
dictated by drumming. Some of the most common movement
variations in the kumina are intermittent dips, spins, swings and
stops, which bolster its trance-inducing character. Kumina dance is
usually associated with funerals, but is also widely performed as a
social dance. There are generally two types of kumina. These are
bailo, which is a public performance with little or no spiritual
undertone, and country, which is highly spiritual and involves a more
serious form of possession. In its entirety, the movements involved in
the execution of the dance establish it as analogous to indigenous
African dance forms. Writing in Jamaica Gleaner, Kesi Asher
observes that kumina features “a steady, but often subtle, forward-
thrusting of the hip with the rib cage and arms moving against the
hip, followed by wild spins and sudden breaks, signalled by the lead
drum” (2005).
The kumina is typical of most African dance forms in its
adoption of a flat-footed inching or shuffling of the feet. In it, the
dancer’s body vibrates in circular motions, utilizing a forward
thrusting of the pelvis. The torso and shoulders also rotate in cyclic
motions, with the arms either bent at the elbow and held close to the
body, or slightly extended. The arms, shoulders, rib cage and hips are
involved, offering the dancers ample opportunity for variations and
interpretation of the associated polyrhythmic drumming. Because
kumina is a spiritual dance in which the tempo of the movements is
 INTERCULTURALISM REVISITED 73

dictated by drumming, dancers often move in a cyclical pattern

around the drummers and musicians, and are propelled forward by
the action of the feet, which inch along the ground with the toes, as I
have already indicated. These are some of the qualities that make
African-Caribbean dance amenable to the sort of intercultural
exchange with African performance culture that I refer to as
interactional diffusion. Bearing in mind my definition of interactional
diffusion as the form of interface that recognizes the negotiation
across cultures that are deeply related to each other, it is possible to
see, as I have already noted, why African artists such as Peter Badejo
would invoke African-Caribbean dances in their productions without
considering them foreign.

AFRICAN DANCE IN A TRANSNATIONAL CONTEXT

Evidently, African culture survived among the Caribbean people of
African origin despite the enduring and methodical acculturation
process which the Africa slaves endured. This thesis is expressed by
most writers on Caribbean theatre and literature, who claim that
Africa is vividly entrenched in the consciousness of the African-
Caribbean people and that this is the basis for the continued retention
and manifestation of their African cultural heritage.10 It is from this
theoretical standpoint that one begins to come to terms with the
complicated life of the African-Caribbean person, who has to
continually negotiate his/ her identity against the backdrop of slavery
and forced interaction with other cultures. Most discussions on
African-Caribbean literature and theatre which deal with issues of
identity consider the existence of an interface as constituting a
medium of interaction through which the incoming African slaves,
indentured Asian labour, indigenous West Indians and European
plantation owners related in order to co-exist and comprehend each
other.
In the first instance, the slaves were confronted with the situation
where they could not effectively engage verbally with other slaves
who were brought in from the various tribal nationalities in Africa.
This situation is aptly captured in Okagbue’s observation that
“Africans speaking related, though not always mutually intelligible,
languages of the Niger-Congo family were taken as slaves to the
Caribbean and the Americas” (1996: 341). This difficult condition
was further compounded by the fact that punitive measures were also
put in place to discourage any form of communication in African
language among slaves who might be able to speak the same
74 KENE IGWEONU

language. This approach resulted in the creation of a Babel society

because of the inability of the various tribal nationalities from Africa
to speak the same language, therefore making it necessary for them to
learn colonial languages in order to establish communication. Even
in hypothetical situations where slaves from a specific tribal
nationality were isolated on a plantation, the nature of their existence,
coupled with the negotiation and affirmation of identities between the
interfacing cultures in the slave era dictated the language spoken.
This is because of the vital nature of language, since it occupies a
position of crucial importance in the organization of wealth and
power in the society. Consequently, negotiations had to take place in
the language of the slave masters and colonialists, and this perhaps
accounts for the fact that no African language survives or is spoken
in the West Indies today.11
As I indicated above, African culture survived slavery in spite of
acculturation and colonial resistance, but these factors or circum-
Atlantic influences invariably led to the emergence of Creole
languages in the New World. Writing about the development of
Creole languages, Helen Gilbert and Joanne Tompkins point out that
despite being based primarily on the vocabulary of European
languages, “Creole and Pidgin languages also maintain significant
pre-contact elements, particularly in their phonology, syntax, and
lexico-semantic structures” (1996: 185). Gilbert and Tompkins’
remark underlines Okagbue’s observations in Language and Identity
in West African and West Indian Theatre, in which he discusses the
perceptible connection between Caribbean Creole languages and
Nigerian Pidgin English. The “pre-contact elements” in Creole
languages emphasizes their subversive nature, helping to distort
imperial languages by subjecting them to the linguistic dictates of
other languages. This notion is also expressed by Gilbert and
Tompkins, who state that “the use of variant Englishes offers one
effective means of refusing to uphold the privilege of the imperial
language as it has dominated both the theatre and the wider social
realm” (1996: 177). By privileging the foundational patterns of
African languages over European languages of colonization,
Caribbean Creole languages clearly identify with Africa without
failing to acknowledge their non-African influences. Consequently,
interactional diffusion is evident in the way the Caribbean Creole
languages evolved as a consequence of the circum-Atlantic impact.
However, it is important to recognise that despite the patterning of
these evolved dialects on African languages, they still retain
 INTERCULTURALISM REVISITED 75

significantly robust imprints of the colonial languages which the

slaves were required to communicate in.
Floyd Gaffney’s position that a “tendency in Latin and South
America for slave dealers to keep African national and kinship
groups together makes it somewhat easier to identify various African
people who have been assimilated into those peculiar cultures”(1979:
100) is at odds with the situation described by Okagbue. Gaffney’s
remark appears to be built on a hypothetical situation I alluded to
previously. Moreover, it does not acknowledge the significance
accorded the imperial language of the colonial masters as one of the
“most basic markers of colonial authority” (Gilbert and Tompkins,
1996: 177). For instance, Morgan Dalphinis points out that African
languages were “suppressed through a system of dividing speakers of
the same languages, to make slave revolts more difficult, and a
related system of punishments for using African languages including
death, the whip, the chain-gang etc.” (cited in Okagbue, 1996: 341).
It seems more likely that what Gaffney refers to as kinship groups
were in fact people belonging to similar language families such as the
Niger-Congo, as noted by Okagbue. It is equally imperative to note
that other cultural rudiments survived slavery in the form of rituals,
dances, songs, drumming and even a degree of culinary knowledge.
Theories of the deliberate distribution of African slaves in the
Caribbean to the extent that same language speakers were not
allowed contact also informs Kole Omotoso’s account of the
evolution of the African-Caribbean culture:

During this same period we need to remember that the slaves who were
of African descent were attempting to put together from the multiplicity
of their cultural backgrounds a new and unique ‘African’ cultural
manifestation. They were dancing to the rhythm of different drums
from different tribal backgrounds. They were comparing stories and
picking out of these what was most appropriate to their new situation,
building up rituals, myths and folk tales with which they would tackle
the new problems posed to them by plantation enslavement (Omotoso,
1982: 15).

Perhaps it is the localization of specific African-derived practices in

various African-Caribbean communities that informs Gaffney’s
remark that national and kinship groups were kept together during
slavery. John Mason notes, for instance, that “certain West African
ethnic ideologies attained hegemony in places like Cuba, Haiti, and
Bahia” (c. 2000: 5) as a result of the significant number of later
76 KENE IGWEONU

arrivals to the Caribbean from that part of Africa. Mason’s theory

shows how we can account for why certain performance practices are
sustained in particular areas in the Caribbean. An example is kumina
dance, which is prevalent in the St. Thomas, St. Mary, St. Catherine,
St. Andrew, Portland and Kingston areas of Jamaica, and features
Congolese (Bantu) words in some of its songs. The localization of
this dance in these areas, coupled with the attendant retention of
Bantu language influences, illustrate the predominance of Bantu-
speaking peoples in those places.
Apart from an identifiable Yoruba presence in places like Brazil,
Cuba and Trinidad, it is often difficult to distinguish specific ethnic
practices from Africa. Despite the fact that African languages did not
survive in West Indian society, patois was evolved as a language of
subversion with similar phraseology to the ones found in postcolonial
African societies. Okagbue apparently recognizes this similarity
when he indicates that the African-Caribbean lingo left him
“fascinated by the strange yet familiar rhythm and resonance of its
dialect which seemed an exotic version of the Pidgin English of my
Nigerian Society” (1996: 339).
As I have begun to show, despite the demise of African
languages and the attendant radical acculturation, it was not possible
to completely erase African culture from the minds of the African
slaves and their descendants. Certain African performance practices
and forms survived this traumatic transplantation and retained aspects
of their dominant features. These features are most prominent in
African-Caribbean dance expressions and include the following: the
knees are bent at an angle with the body leaning slightly forward at
the hips. This helps lower the dancer’s centre of gravity away from
his/her pelvis and extended to the front. There is a general tendency
to dance on the flat of the foot as opposed to arched feet or pointed
toes, and thus the dancer’s feet make full contact with the ground.
Body isolation is another feature in which various parts of a dancer’s
body – such as the head, shoulders, arms, pelvis and feet – are often
isolated in movement. However, the reality and harshness of slavery
has meant that some of the African dances that survive in the
Caribbean have undergone some degree of transformation in order to
be relevant in their new environment and continue to exist. Most of
these dances offer a condensed synthesis of both European and
African cultural aesthetics, coupled with influences from aboriginal
and other cultures found in the West Indies during the slave era and
beyond. However, this sort of circum-Atlantic interculture could also
 INTERCULTURALISM REVISITED 77

lead to a re-coding of the mythical implications and long-held beliefs

central to African performances in their indigenous contexts. Some of
the dances that originated from Africa and are found in the Caribbean
today have their origins in ancestral worship, but were later
transformed into avenues for subversion and resistance during
slavery. This explains the presence of some necessary re-codings or
changes to gestures and movements, which are vital to the sustenance
of these dances in their new environment.
A good example of such re-coding is the bata dance as it is
practised today by the Afro-Cuban people of Central America. The
bata, which is the national dance of the Yoruba people, was
ostensibly passed on to the Afro-Cuban people from their forebears,
who were slaves taken from the West African port of Badagary. The
bata dance was used primarily in Sango worship and incorporates
movements that are representative of Sango’s temperament and
mythical personality. Most prominent of these features are the sharp,
angular and jerky arm and shoulder movements, and the shuffling
and darting movement of the legs. In the Afro-Cuban version the arm
and shoulder movements, which are symbolic of Sango’s personality
as the god of thunder and lightning, are noticeably absent but the leg
movement and body posture remains the same. The ‘loss’ of this vital
feature of the angular and jerky arm and shoulder movement in the
Afro-Cuban bata, I suggest, re-codes the mythical implication of the
bata dance held by the Yoruba people.
Other African-Caribbean dances that retain an overwhelming
imprint of Africa include the dinki-mini commonly found in Jamaica
and the tambú from Curacao. The dinki-mini dance is usually
performed during the lying in-state of the dead and is normally
performed to cheer up the family of the dead person. The movements
focus on the pelvis, which the dancers rotate energetically as a sign
of defiance to death and a reaffirmation of their ability to reproduce.
Similarly, the most prominent movements in the tambú originate
from the pelvis, with the buttocks performing a continuous rolling,
jerking or swaying action. This movement of the buttocks is
accentuated by the adoption of the bent-knee position and stomping
of the dancer’s feet, which I have previously described as specific
features of most African dances.
In exploring African dance in a transnational context, perhaps
one of the most interesting products of circum-Atlantic interculture
which continues to challenge the notion of an African authenticity
while simultaneously retaining a genealogical link to its African past
78 KENE IGWEONU

is the samba. Unlike the dance forms I mentioned earlier as retaining

dominant indigenous African dance characteristics, the circum-
Atlantic impact on the samba is such that it appears indigenous to
Brazil, but with distinct African and European elements. Barbara
Browning attests to the circum-Atlantic performance culture
represented by samba,12 a point reiterated by Yvonne Daniel:

Even without a wealth of literature to prove how traditions were carried

forth, many native, European, and African dance/music traditions
continued, as well as surfaced, in new ‘Brazilian’ forms. In both the
nineteenth and twentieth centuries, social dance forms appeared that
were primarily influenced by the experience of Europeans and Africans
in the Americas (2005: 145).

Samba’s newness does not necessarily enact what Roach implies as a

kind of surrogate for, or conceptual erasure of, indigenous forms
(1996: 4); instead it opens up his treatment of the term circum-
Atlantic interculture and, in particular, ways in which transnational
dispersions of Brazilian, African and European forms have taken
them in new directions.
Through its process of circum-Atlantic evolution samba emerged
as a dance where, as Daniel puts it, “African creativity was applied to
European music and dance structure” (2005: 109). Also, samba
developed as a form that took on European floor patterns and very
conspicuous upright body orientation of performers (see Daniel,
2005: 109). Even though the samba is recognized as originating from
a fusion of African, European and Brazilian elements, some of the
postures adopted by dancers in the execution of the dance place it
outside the scope of most African dance forms. Daniel clarifies this
by noting that dances such as the samba often manifest as “European
courtly forms, although with definite African elements” (2005: 122).
It was perhaps an attempt to recuperate African elements in the
samba and bring them to the fore that led the British Broadcasting
Corporation (BBC) to broadcast a one-off special on African dance
BBC One on 9 July 2005 as part of the its Africa Lives season. Each
of the six celebrities of African and Caribbean origin were assigned
to African dance troupes for training before performing live on
television. They were Tessa Sanderson, who performed the gome
dance from Ghana, Tupele Dorgu, who did the koroso dance of
northern Nigeria, and Antonia Okonma, who danced the kuku from
Senegal. Others included Tunde Baiyewu, who danced the bata from
Nigeria, Robbie Earle, who did a Zulu warrior dance from South
 INTERCULTURALISM REVISITED 79

Africa, and Louis Emerick with the adzogbo dance from Ghana.
They had to learn the cultural significance of the dances in the
African communities from which they originate and how to embody
the dances; for this each celebrity travelled to the African continent
in order to experience these cultures and inquire about the origins of
the dances. Essentially, each performer wanted to preserve the
indigenous content of their chosen dance form, and went to see and
learn first-hand how the dances are done within their indigenous
settings.
The BBC’s production of Strictly African Dancing also featured
a samba performance by professional dancers, Darren Bennet and
Lilia Kopylova, which they described as African samba, derived
from West African dance. It is important to note that in samba some
of the rudimentary features of African dance, with respect to body
postures, are overwhelmed by European and native Latin American
movement aesthetics. For instance, the BBC’s attempt to recover
African elements of the samba was based on their belief that African
samba involves a side-to-side movement with the chest pushed in,
coupled with dancing barefooted. The Latin samba, on the other
hand, would involve a back-and-forth movement, chest pushed out
and high heels worn by the female dancer. However, the BBC
programme team which had the London-based Nigerian
choreographer Peter Badejo as one of their expert judges, did not
succeed in addressing the upright body posture in samba, even
though they linked the samba to a West African dancer performing
an undulating dance movement in the classic bent-knee position that
has come to be associated with African dance.
Some features of the samba emphasize its European, rather than
African, influence within the circum-Atlantic interculture it
represents, and so seem to situate it within a Western dance
paradigm. Despite this, the way movements are constructed in the
samba helps to emphasize parts of the body in a way that is
reminiscent of body isolation in African dance. The side-to-side
movement of the pelvis occurs naturally as the weight of the body is
transferred from one foot to the other. The isolated and increased roll
of the pelvis is achieved by turning the feet out in a “V” shape with
the heels coming close together and then, as one leg is straightened to
carry the body weight, the other bends toward the straightened leg.
While this is being done, the torso is held steady, thus emphasizing
the sideways swing of the waist. In essence, the dancers maintain an
erect upper body as they dance, while the male dancer keeps a firm
80 KENE IGWEONU

forward pressure on his partner. Both dancers also maintain sustained

tension in their arms, while executing sharp angular movement with
their arms. However, a key feature of African dance that has been
diffused in the samba is the need to maintain a supple and slightly
relaxed posture, knees bent, feet placed slightly apart and planted
firmly on the floor. The balance that the body attains in this position
makes it easier to isolate the pelvis region, thus allowing variable
movements of the waist without their seeming to be stiff and angular.
The movement of the legs in the performance of the African
samba is such that the dancers take their first back step by pointing
their toes and then transferring the body weight onto the balls of their
feet, and finally resting on the leg as the heel is lowered and makes
contact with the floor. Again, there is no overt attempt to bend the
knees; instead, as the dancers move their body weight from one leg to
the other, the leg that is not carrying the body readily bends at the
knee as the heel of the foot is raised with the toes pointing forward.
In other words, the body weight is not completely diffused
throughout the body, but the body is pivoted in such a way that the
weight is borne by the foot that is on the ground; hence whenever one
leg is bent, the other straightens to take the weight of the body. The
fact that these dancers, in executing the African samba, start by
pointing the toes and transferring to the balls of the feet immediately
reveals another feature that emphasizes samba’s European influence.
African dances do not often incorporate points; instead the soles of
the feet are used to make contact with the floor. Also, the basic
position in most African dances requires the dancer to maintain a
bent-knee position, with the body leaning slightly forward. This gives
the impression of moving towards the floor and working with
gravity, rather than moving away from it and trying to overcome it.
Highlighting aspects of samba’s performance aesthetic is useful
in discerning the profound impact of circum-Atlantic interculture on
this particular dance form. While it is true that African dance and
culture contributed in shaping the samba, it does not encourage the
same kind of reciprocal transfer possible with other African-
Caribbean and African dance forms. Such borrowing, where it exists,
often raises the issue of the own and the foreign to some extent as a
result of the postures in the samba which give it the appearance of a
European court dance.
 INTERCULTURALISM REVISITED 81

CONCLUSION
Starting with an exploration of the influence of African culture on
African-Caribbean culture, I have argued that the African-Caribbean
culture is a unique cultural manifestation, which I have described as
an evolved culture. There are obvious parallels that exist between
African and African-Caribbean performance aesthetics which serve
to indicate and uphold their shared identity and history. Both African
and African-Caribbean performances endorse the importance of form
as well as content in the articulation of their world view. This is
where the nostalgic longing for, and recognition of, Africa as land of
the forebears comes in as the dynamic incentive for the African-
Caribbean to engage with those residual aesthetics that connect them
to their African past.
I have also attempted to develop Okagbue’s vision of a new
intercultural critical terminology in describing the interaction
between African and African-Caribbean performance cultures
through the notion of interactional diffusion, which I have derived
from Roach’s notion of circum-Atlantic interculture. Although the
examples used are of an African cultural aesthetic, I suggest that the
proposed concept of interactional diffusion be tested against similar
borrowings across deeply related cultures. I argued that Badejo’s Emi
Ijo, in which he incorporates kumina dance from Jamaica, underlines
the compelling link between African and African-Caribbean
performance aesthetics. On the other hand, the samba highlights a
European dance aesthetic to the extent that, as an evolved form, it
does not permit the level of reciprocal transfer demonstrated in Emi
Ijo. Viewed from the standpoint that identity is inscribed in what
Taylor (2003: 86) refers to as the cultural body, it becomes possible
to grasp the difficulty of transferring the samba to an African
performance context without bringing to the fore notions of the own
and the foreign.

NOTES

1 See the debate between Rustom Bharucha and Richard Schechner,

for example. Bharucha, Rustom. 1984a. A Collision of Cultures:
Some Western Interpretations of the Indian Theatre. Asian Theatre
Journal. 1 (1): 1-20; Schechner, Richard. 1984. A Reply to Rustom
Bharucha. Asian Theatre Journal. 1(2): 245-253; Bharucha,
Rustom. 1984b. A Reply to Richard Schechner. Asian Theatre
Journal. 1(2): 254-260.
82 KENE IGWEONU

2 The abolition of slavery meant that former exiles and their

descendants could return physically to Africa, which individuals
and groups have done and continue to do.
3 The civil war that ravaged Liberia between 1989 and 2004 started
during the regime of Master Sergeant-President Samuel Doe, who
was popularly known as the first indigenous leader of Liberia,
which until then had been led by former exiles and returnees from
North America.
4 See Gilbert and Tompkins, 1996: 9.
5 See Bharucha, 1984a.
6 The ‘West’ is used here to refer to Euro-American culture, while
East is taken to represent those cultures other than the West, in
which case East and West are binaries representing distinct others.
I am certainly aware that ‘accepted’ usage of the ‘East’ limits its
application to the cultures between the Indian and Pacific oceans.
Consequently, I have tried to retain this usage, and where allusions
to African or African-Caribbean cultures are indicated in any
general reference to non-Western cultures, I have indicated that as
‘East/Africa’.
7 See Julie Holledge and Joanne Tompkins’ book, Women’s
Intercultural Performance (2000) for their discussion of another
problematic view of interculturalism when viewed from the
audience’s perspective.
8 See Okagbue, Osita, 1997.
9 Produced by Badejo Arts in July 2000; choreographed by Peter
Badejo; written by Olu Taiwo.
10 See Gaffney, 1979; Obiechina, 1986; Okagbue, 2004; and Savory,
1999.
11 Some African names and words still exist in the Caribbean today,
but that is all they are – isolated words and names, some of which
do not necessarily convey their full or original meanings. For
instance, some Congolese words can be found in songs used for the
kumina dance in Jamaica. Kesi Asher identifies some of these
words as malambay (how do you do?), madya (if you want some
food), and mambugumaseta (signifying readiness to sing and
dance). See Asher, 2005.
12 For a unique and comprehensive perspective on the profound
nature of circum-Atlantic interculture symbolized by the samba
dance see Browning, 1995.
 INTERCULTURALISM REVISITED 83

REFERENCES
Asher, Kesi. 2005. Africa Live in Kumina. Jamaica Gleaner, 9 October.
http://www.jamaica-gleaner.com/gleaner/20051009/ent/ent1.html
(accessed 3 December 2006).
Bharucha, Rustom. 1984a. A Collision of Cultures: Some Western
Interpretations of the Indian Theatre. Asian Theatre Journal, 1(1): 1-20.
________. 1984b. A Reply to Richard Schechner. Asian Theatre Journal,
1(2): 254-260.
Browning, Barbara. 1995. Samba: Resistance in Motion. Bloomington:
Indiana University Press.
Chrisman, Robert. 1973. Aspects of Pan-Africanism. Black Scholar, 4(10):
2-5.
Daniel, Yvonne. 2005. Dancing Wisdom: Embodied Knowledge in Haitian
Vodou, Cuban Yoruba, and Bahian Candomblé. Urbana and Chicago:
University of Illinois Press.
Fabre, Genevieve. 1983. Drumbeats, Masks, and Metaphor: Contemporary
Afro-American Theatre (Trans. Melvin Dixon). London: Harvard
University Press.
Finley, Carol. 1999. The Art of African Masks: Exploring Cultural
Traditions. Minneapolis: Lerner Publications Company.
Gaffney, Floyd. 1979. Evolution and Revolution of Afro-Brazilian Dance.
Journal of Popular Culture, 13: 98-105.
Gilbert, Helen and Joanne Tompkins. 1996. Post-colonial Drama: Theory,
Practice, Politics. London: Routledge.
Gilbert, Helen (Ed.). 1999. (Post)Colonial Stage: Critical and Creative
Views on Drama, Theatre and Performance. Hebden Bridge, Sussex:
Dangaroo.
Holledge, Julie and Joanne Tompkins. 2000. Women’s Intercultural
Performance. London: Routledge.
Mason, John. c. 2000. African Religions in the Caribbean: Continuity and
Change. In Myths and Dreams: Exploring the Cultural Legacies of
Florida and the Caribbean. http://www.kislakfoundation.org/
millennium-exhibit/mason1.pdf (accessed 3 December 2006): 1-10.
Mosquera, Gerardo. 1992. Africa in the Art of Latin America. Art Journal,
51 (4): 30-38.
Murithi, Timothy. 2005. The African Union: Pan-Africanism, Peacebuilding
and Development. Hampshire: Ashgate Publishing.
84 KENE IGWEONU

Nantambu, Kwame. 1998. Pan-Africanism versus Pan-African Nationalism:

An Afrocentric Analysis. Journal of Black Studies, 28(5): 561-574.
Nicholls, Robert W. 1984. Igede Funeral Masquerades. African Arts, 17(3):
70-76, 92.
Nicholson, Helen. 2003. Applied Drama: The Gift of Theatre. Basingstoke:
Palgrave Macmillan.
Obiechina, Emmanuel. 1986. Africa in the Soul of Dispersed Children:
West African Literature from the Era of the Slave Trade. In Nsukka
Studies in African Literature 9: 101-160.
Okagbue, Osita. 2001. Exiles and Home: Africa in Caribbean Theatre. In
Dubem Okafor (Ed.) Meditations on African Literature. Westport, CT:
Greenwood Press: 149-157.
________. 1996. Language and Identity in West African and West Indian
Theatre. In Suzanne Stern-Gillet et al. (Eds) Culture and Identity:
Selected Aspects and Approaches. Katowice: Wydawnictwo
Uniwersytetu Slaskiego: 339-351.
________. 1997. The Strange and the Familiar: Intercultural Exchange
between African and Caribbean Theatre. Theatre Research
International, 22(2): 120-129.
________. 2004. Surviving the Crossing: Theatre in the African Diaspora.
In Martin Banham (Ed.) A History of Theatre in Africa. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press: 430-447.
Omotoso, Kole. 1982. The Theatrical into Theatre: A Study of the Drama
and Theatre of the English-Speaking Caribbean. London: New Beacon
Books.
Roach, Joseph. 1996. Cities of the Dead: Circum-Atlantic Performance.
New York: Colombia University Press.
Savory, Elaine. 1999. Registering Connection: Masking and Gender Issues
in Caribbean Theatre. In Helen Gilbert (Ed.) (Post)Colonial Stages:
Critical & Creative Views on Drama, Theatre and Performance.
Hebden Bridge, Sussex: Dangaroo: 222-233.
Taylor, Diana. 2003. The Archive and the Repertoire: Performing Cultural
Memory in the Americas. Durham: Duke University Press.
________. 1991. Transculturing Transculturation. In Bonnie Marranca and
Gautam Dasgupta (Eds) Interculturalism and Performance: Writings
from PAJ. New York: PAJ Publications: 60-74.
Weber, Carl. 1991. AC/TC: Currents of Theatrical Exchange. In Bonnie
Marranca and Gautam Dasgupta (Eds) Interculturalism and
Performance: Writings from PAJ. New York: PAJ Publications: 27-37.
CHAPTER 3

BEYOND THE MIRACLE: TRENDS IN SOUTH

AFRICAN THEATRE AND PERFORMANCE AFTER
1994
JOHANN VAN HEERDEN

South Africa became a democracy after the general elections held on

27 April 1994. This date and the consequent inauguration of Nelson
Mandela as president mark the formal termination of legalised
apartheid and symbolise the end of the old and the beginning of the
new South Africa. The socio-political transformation, called a
“peaceful revolution” by some and a “miracle” by many, had an
impact on every area of life in the Republic, including the arts and
culture in this diverse, multilingual and multicultural society.

MAJOR TRENDS IN THE PROFESSIONAL THEATRE

ENVIRONMENT
In the new South Africa, amongst many shifting priorities, the
relationship between the state and the arts started changing. From the
early 1960s until the 1990s professional theatre activity in South
Africa took place mostly in four main arenas, two that were state-
funded and two that were not: a number of strong independent anti-
apartheid (later multiracial) companies focused mainly on anti-
apartheid, so-called “protest” or “struggle” theatre, while a number of
other independent theatre managements staged purely commercial,
popular entertainment. Within the black communities the “township
theatre”, run by prominent theatre-makers such as Gibson Kente,
Mbongeni Ngema and others, functioned as semi-professional and
sometimes fully professional theatre. Certain bigger metropolitan
areas were served by civic theatres funded by the city and in some
cases also by the government, and there were the four generously
state-subsidised Performing Arts Councils (PACs), registered in
terms of Section 21 of the Companies Act of 1973 as non-profit
86 JOHANN VAN HEERDEN

organisations. These PACs catered almost exclusively to elite, mostly

Eurocentric audiences in the white metropolitan areas. After the
democratic elections of 1994, under the new ANC-led government,
the country was divided into nine provinces in place of the previous
four, a structural change which would of course have a substantial
impact on arts policy.
The new state policy towards governing and subsidising the
performing arts was formalised by 1996, when it was captured in the
White Paper on Arts, Culture and Heritage. Referring to the four
Performing Arts Councils, the White Paper noted that “The activities
of these institutions, their continued access to State monies, and their
putative transformation, has created more controversy than any other
issue facing the Ministry” (Department of Arts, Culture, Science and
Technology, 1996: 15). Some of the main principles of the Paper
included that the creative production entities within the four
Performing Arts Councils should be disbanded, that their facilities
and infrastructure should become available for rent – thus effectively
changing their function to that of “playhouses” or “receiving houses”,
rather than production companies – and that their funding should be
reduced over three years in line with their new function. The PACs
could, however, like other theatre managements also apply for
funding to the new National Arts Council (NAC) on an ad hoc basis.
The NAC’s formally stated focus was to assist in the funding of
“projects of national significance” (National Arts Council). The
national government was to reduce its investment in this sector and
the provincial and local governments were to provide the major
funding.
The National Arts Council, with representation by the nine
provinces, would function as a statutory body, which would receive a
parliamentary grant. The four provincial arts councils would be
phased out by 2000. This new arts policy was, however, not
practically implemented as originally planned. In 2005 the
Performing Arts Network of South Africa (PANSA) published a
detailed critical analysis of the actual state funding that went into the
former PACs subsequent to 1996 and came to the conclusion that the
White Paper guidelines had not been followed and the set objectives
not achieved after ten years (Performing Arts Network of South
Africa, 2005: 13-15). PANSA also pointed to the fact that previously
unsubsidised theatres, like the Market Theatre in the wealthy
province of Gauteng, now received a subsidy.
 BEYOND THE MIRACLE 87

The White Paper also stated, “The PACs need to be restructured

in such a way that the infrastructure and skills built up over decades
are not lost, but are redirected to serving the artistic and cultural
priorities established by the NAC” (Department of Arts, Culture,
Science and Technology, 1996: 15). In fact, the PACs were
restructured in such a way that a number of key companies, such as
the in-house drama companies, were closed down and their often
highly experienced staff retrenched, resulting in the loss of valuable
skills. The ideals for general reconstruction, development and
transformation in the new South Africa were clear from the outset,
but the results achieved in the early years were not always in line
with these, often optimistic, ideals, neither in the country at large nor
in the performing arts sector.
In fact, a large gap developed between the practising arts
community and the administrators of the limited arts funding that
was made available by the state. By 2001 theatre analysts at
Stellenbosch University’s Centre for Theatre and Performance
Studies summarised the situation as follows:

Today, state funding for the arts has dwindled significantly and much of
the little money that there is finds itself administered by politicians and
bureaucrats who are apparently out of touch with the cultural and artistic
aspirations of both theatre practitioners and theatre-goers. ... Today, there
is an urgent need to balance the interests of what is an essentially elitist
social activity with the need to contribute to the cultural development of
the nation as a whole (Bain & Hauptfleisch, 2001: 11).

The relationship between the performing arts sector and government

was further formalised in April 2003, when Parliament passed the
Cultural Institutions Act, which wrote off accumulated millions in
debt by theatres in Durban, Cape Town and Johannesburg, while the
debt of Pretoria’s State Theatre was still not finalised. Selected
theatres’ administration would be funded in varying amounts by the
state in order to allow the theatres to function as viable facilities for
rent (“playhouses”), while the actual business of staging their own
productions in addition would be dependent on fundraising and ad
hoc application for funding from the NAC. As one commentator put
it cynically, “In other words, administrator’s salaries are guaranteed,
not artists’” (Greig, 2003: 11). It was now a situation that these
theatres were essentially state-controlled institutions. The chairperson
of the board of each theatre was appointed by the Minister and the
bulk of its funding came from the State. Most of its additional
88 JOHANN VAN HEERDEN

funding would come ad hoc from a state-funded body, the NAC. The
members of management would essentially have to be administrators
and business specialists rather than representatives of the arts
community.
Some years into the new millennium, as a result of the strong
state control of the major theatres around the country, the limited
guaranteed funding, and the responsibility of these theatres to
perform according to sound business principles, concerns were being
raised in the arts community that productions in these theatres might
become “box office safe” or even more ominously, “politically safe”.
On the other hand, independent professional theatre practitioners
had to find ways to stage their work and to reach their audiences with
only limited financial support or subsidy. As a result, a vibrant arts
festival circuit emerged. These arts festivals began to play a crucial
and formative role in the evolution of the theatre and performing arts
of the new democracy. While the occurrence of cultural festivals in
various forms and sizes was common in the old South Africa and
even a multidisciplinary festival fully dedicated to the arts was a
regular annual event since 1974, the role and the impact of arts
festivals changed markedly after 1994.
Another pivotal factor in this proliferation of arts festivals was
the change to majority rule after the first democratic elections, the
Afrikaner minority’s ensuing loss of political power and the resultant
fear amongst many Afrikaners that their cultural identity and even
their language was in danger of becoming extinct. Temple
Hauptfleisch refers to “the triple threat of potential Americanization,
Anglicization and Africanization” (Hauptfleisch, 2006a:187).
English had been in common use in South Africa since the
eighteenth century and became the official language during the
period of British rule. As a world language it also became the
preferred second tongue for many educated non-English South
Africans and it was a compulsory school subject for learners across
the nation. In the new South Africa the ANC-led government gave
eleven languages official status, of which nine were indigenous
African languages. The other two were Afrikaans and English. For
obvious reasons the new government expressed a preference for
English as a lingua franca for the country as a whole.
Afrikaans had developed at the Cape out of seventeenth-century
Dutch and over the centuries, since the original Dutch settlement at
the Cape in 1652, a particular segment of the Afrikaans-speaking
white population, the so-called “Afrikaners”, had gradually come to
 BEYOND THE MIRACLE 89

form a distinct cultural group. During the nineteenth and twentieth

centuries South African politics was dominated by friction between
British and Afrikaner whites, while no effective participation in
politics by blacks was permitted. After World War II the Nationalist
Party, primarily supported by the Afrikaners, gained prominence in
the political arena and won control of the government in 1948. The
subsequent decades of formal socio-political apartheid, “separate
development”, enforced geographical group areas and cultural
apartheid have been well documented and a key leitmotiv in this
context was the establishment of the Afrikaners as a prominent,
privileged cultural group, which benefited handsomely from
generous state support, also in the fields of education and the arts.
In the new democratic South Africa after the elections of 1994,
when the Afrikaners lost political control of the country, multifaceted
new dynamics started to come into play. In the old apartheid South
Africa the term “Afrikaner” could comfortably exclude Afrikaans-
speakers who were not members of the white ruling class and
therefore not members of the exclusive Afrikaner political, cultural,
and religious community, but in the new South Africa the difference
between an “Afrikaner” and an “Afrikaans-speaker” became
problematic as the strict political, racial and social demarcations of
the past made way for a more integrated society. It was questioned
that a relatively small (white) group of the total South African
population would call themselves and their language after the whole
continent, but it could not be denied that the Afrikaners had become
one of the most influential and economically powerful groups in the
country. Many South Africans who spoke Afrikaans as their mother
tongue, or as a second language, and who also used it for cultural
purposes were, however, never part of this privileged group because
they were not legally classified as “white”. After 1994 the new
democracy and the new political and social liberation brought along
challenges to all the users of Afrikaans to create a widely inclusive
environment where Afrikaans could be used and celebrated to the full
range of its cultural expression if it were to survive in the
multicultural future South Africa. Since the Afrikaans language was
so closely associated with the Afrikaner culture, and the “non-white”
Afrikaans-speakers had historically been mostly excluded from
Afrikaner cultural activities, the use of Afrikaans in artistic and
cultural expression became a highly controversial issue that also
played a part in the development of predominantly Afrikaans-
language arts festivals.
90 JOHANN VAN HEERDEN

From the early 1990s the once powerful nationwide Afrikaans

cultural organisations such as the Suid-Afrikaanse Akademie vir
Wetenskap en Kuns [South African Academy for Science and Art],
the Federasie van Afrikaanse Kultuurverenigings (FAK) [Federation
of Afrikaans Cultural Associations] and the Afrikaanse Taal- en
Kultuurvereniging (ATKV) [Afrikaans Language and Culture
Association] were all trying to reassert and re-position themselves in
the new context and were exploring opportunities to support
initiatives which could ensure the survival of Afrikaans culture and
the language after the pending political transformation. At the same
time large businesses such as the media conglomerate Naspers with
its interests in newspapers, magazines, publishing, television,
electronic and other media aimed strongly, although by no means
exclusively, at Afrikaans-language consumers, were ready to support
projects that would serve their corporate social investment initiatives,
and at the same time augment their image as supporters of Afrikaans
and the perceived “endangered” Afrikaans culture amongst that
section of their target consumers. And it was against this background
that the hugely popular and influential Klein Karoo Nasionale
Kunstefees (KKNK) [Little Karoo National Arts Festival] was
launched in Oudtshoorn in April 1995. Die Burger, flagship daily
newspaper of the Naspers Group, announced that Naspers would be
the main sponsor of an annual multidisciplinary arts festival in
Oudtshoorn and quoted the chairman of the festival planning
committee: “There will be space for contributions in English and
other indigenous languages, but the emphasis will be on Afrikaans”
(Botha, 1994: 4).
In the wake of the KKNK a number of primarily Afrikaans
annual regional arts festivals developed across the country over the
years to follow, including the Aardklop Nasionale Kunstefees [Earth-
Beat National Arts Festival] in Potchefstroom, the Afrikaanse
Woordfees [Afrikaans Word Festival] in Stellenbosch, the
Volksbladfees [Volksblad Festival] in Bloemfontein, the Gariep
Kunstefees [Gariep Arts Festival] in Kimberley and the
Suidoosterfees [South-Easter Festival] in Cape Town.
These new Afrikaans arts festivals, together with the established
Grahamstown Festival (first held in 1974 to celebrate and maintain
the cultural heritage of English-speaking South Africans) and a
number of other regional arts festivals resulted in an arts festival
circuit which changed not only the pattern and habits of theatre-
 BEYOND THE MIRACLE 91

goers, but also the approach, strategy and business of South African
theatre-makers during the first decades of democracy.
Although the emergence of an arts festival circuit after 1994 was
a key development in South African professional theatre, most
festivals did relatively little to specifically explore or celebrate black
(South) African culture, theatre or theatre-makers. Obviously every
festival typically had a number of black artists taking part in
productions, and audiences included some black theatre-goers, but
the participation of the white and Western-oriented theatre-makers,
as well as audiences, disproportionately outweighed the contribution
from black African and historically disadvantaged artists and festival-
goers. Apart from some exceptional cases, English and Afrikaans
were used almost exclusively on the festival stages. Throughout the
early decades of democracy efforts were made and intentions were
formulated to work towards multicultural arts festivals and/or
festivals specifically planned and staged to celebrate black African
arts and cultural expression, but during these early years relatively
few meaningful successes had been achieved in that area.
In September 1997 the provincial government of the Free State,
supported by the television channel SABC2, launched the Mangaung
African Cultural Festival (Macufe) in Bloemfontein. At the
announcement of the festival the then general manager of SABC2,
Thaninga Msimango, declared that “the concept was initiated
because there was no cultural festival that expressed the rich culture
of indigenous South Africans.” And the Free State MEC for sports,
arts and culture at the time, M.W. Molefe, added that “most popular
and successful festivals in South Africa are focused on Eurocentric
culture, paying scant regard to indigenous African culture”
(Makhaya, 1997: 14). Officially dubbed an “African cultural
festival”, rather than an “arts festival”, the intention was clear: to
stage an event that would recognise and celebrate the indigenous
African cultural heritage, and specifically as a balance to the other
arts festivals which were perceived to be doing little in that regard.
The Macufe festival has been staged annually in the spring since
1997, but to date it has made very little contribution to the
professional theatre, Afrocentric or other. The main focus was on
music, song and dance and other cultural activities, with relatively
little focus on theatre. Theatre productions that were staged were
often extremely poorly attended. In 1997, for instance, Bergville
Stories (written and directed by Duma KaNdlovu), On My Birthday
(written and directed by Aubrey Sekhabi) and Woza Albert! (by
92 JOHANN VAN HEERDEN

Barney Simon, Mbongeni Ngema and Percy Mtwa and directed by

Danny Moleko) were staged and, although tickets cost only R1.00,
most performances drew audiences of fewer than twenty people
(Swart, 1997: 8). Over the years, however, Macufe started becoming
part of the arts festival circuit and a number of productions that had
premièred at Grahamstown or KKNK were staged in Bloemfontein.
Most of those, however, were “Eurocentric”, staged in English or
Afrikaans, and did little to contribute to the original objective of
celebrating “indigenous” African culture.
An important trend that developed through all the arts festivals
concerned the type of play, production and performance that was
staged. It even gave rise to a concept labelled the “festival play”.
Most of the annual arts festivals had a wide choice of theatre
productions on offer. Typically the theatrical line-up would include a
relatively small number of large-scale productions, some of them
professional staging of foreign dramas by established playwrights
and foreign or local classics, but more often they would be premières
of new local plays. These large-scale productions, normally part of
the “Main Festival”, as opposed to the “Fringe Festival”, were
typically mounted by professional producers, staged by prominent
directors, cast with established artists and presented in fully
equipped, sophisticated theatre venues. Some Main Festival
productions were specially commissioned for the festival and their
budgets usually benefited from festival and/or other funding and
sponsorships. But the vast majority of theatre productions and
performances on offer, mostly at the Fringe Festival, but also on the
Main Festival, would be on a much smaller scale, very often one-
person shows or two-handers. These productions were typically
staged by independent theatre-makers, often individuals or small
companies, and clearly the scale of such productions was primarily
dictated by available funding and allocated performance venues.
Normally these companies had to survive solely on box office
earnings, which at the festivals had to be split, in varying
proportions, with the festival organisation. These productions also
had to be dressed and staged, not only affordably, but in a way which
made it practical to travel from venue to venue and from festival to
festival. Most of the venues available to Fringe productions were not
fully equipped theatres, but halls or large converted rooms around the
host city or town. Consequently the sets, props and costumes were
limited, the size of the cast was limited, the technical equipment was
limited and the tight festival schedule even limited the duration of
 BEYOND THE MIRACLE 93

performances. Given all these limitations, most significantly the

limited production budget and facilities, the variety of types and
genres of suitable plays became severely limited. This resulted in a
wide range of artistic quality in the productions staged at the Fringe
Festival. Some died an early death at their first festival. Some toured
the rest of the festival circuit successfully and a small number
graduated to seasons in mainstream venues around the country.
Obviously the conventions, style and characteristics of these
“festival plays” were primarily born out of the limitations (which
could also be seen as challenges) discussed above, but another factor
that played a role was the typical festival audiences for which these
plays were staged. For a number of reasons the usual audience
attending performances during an arts festival is dissimilar to an
audience at more conventional productions staged in the mainstream,
mostly urban, venues around the country. As the arts festivals led to
the development of a typical “festival play”, they certainly also
attracted what could be described as a typical “festival audience”.
Typically most festival-goers would attend the festival for a number
of days, book accommodation and reserve tickets for the more
popular productions months in advance. Most often they would come
from a much larger pool than a city theatre audience, travelling to the
festival from cities, towns, villages and farms across the country and
from all walks of life.
Clearly, the general landscape in which theatre was produced,
staged and performed in South Africa changed significantly during
the first years of democracy, two key factors being the transformation
of the PACs into playhouses and the emergence of the arts festival
circuit. As a result, many professional theatre-makers had lost their
secure positions at the Arts Councils and new independent theatre
companies were formed to either tour the festivals, try the
mainstream circuit or perform in the many informal café or quasi-
cabaret venues that had sprung up around the country. The
managements at the old PACs continued to receive productions in
their well-equipped theatre complexes, while the commercial
independents that had been established since before 1994 continued
to produce and/or to receive productions. Together with the
proliferation of smaller, independent (often touring) theatre
companies and a focus on smaller-scale (often quite mobile)
productions, there was also a clear trend towards the establishment of
privately-owned, normally smaller theatre venues. By the mid-2000s
just more than half the theatres were privately owned, of which the
94 JOHANN VAN HEERDEN

majority were run as commercial ventures and the balance as amateur

theatre companies. It was a clear trend that many of the smaller
independent commercial theatre venues started up as a result of the
type of productions that premièred at the arts festivals and to create a
circuit for those new independent commercial touring companies to
stage their plays in between the arts festivals. This could almost be
seen as a ‘chicken and egg situation’, but the end result was that
many smaller theatres, café theatres, dinner theatres and quasi-
cabaret venues sprung up around South Africa. Still, almost a quarter
of the theatre venues around the country were attached to tertiary
institutions of education, where the focus now tended to shift
strongly towards, or to include, the commercial aspects of the theatre
industry in an environment where the relationship between state and
arts/culture was evolving and viable theatre was becoming more and
more governed by sound business principles.
Apart from the smaller operations primarily catering for
independent, touring local productions, the trend to develop
independent commercial theatre venues around the country was also
illustrated in the adjustments that were made by the small number of
bigger, well-established independent commercial theatre-makers.
Democratisation also brought an end to the decades-old cultural
isolation of South Africa. The international recognition, acceptance
and support of the “Rainbow Nation” made it easier for these
independent commercial theatre operators to import large com-
mercial hits such as Les Misérables, Phantom of the Opera, Cats,
The Lion King and others. These bigger independents also capitalised
on the opportunity to contract directors and actors and other theatre
artists with international reputations and to bring them to South
African audiences. Eventually South African artists also found the
opportunities to work more easily abroad. In addition, the ripple
effect of these changes manifested in more young people entering the
field and larger numbers of students registering for training at the
facilities around the country. Like other theatre-makers, the
established commercial operators capitalised on these changes and
new opportunities, and adjusted their businesses accordingly.
The above illustrates some of the major trends manifested in the
professional theatre environment as it evolved in the new democratic
South Africa after 1994. The impact on theatre practice within that
environment was no less dramatic.
 BEYOND THE MIRACLE 95

MAJOR TRENDS IN THEATRE PRACTICE IN A NEW

PROFESSIONAL THEATRE ENVIRONMENT
South African playwrights and other creative artists had for many
years had a clearly focused objective in their work, a cause which
was supported worldwide. Their protest against the universally
condemned social evil of apartheid provided them with a source of
dramatic and emotional material, while their cause provided a
powerful source of creative inspiration. Of course there were creative
theatre artists before 1994 not focusing primarily on the effects and
the evils of apartheid while working within the apartheid framework,
mostly at the state-subsidised arts councils or for the apolitical
commercial managements. But looking back, the productions of “the
struggle” or the “protest theatre” were the ones perceived to be
politically and socially more relevant and the ones which were
remembered and, often exaggeratedly, valued after the demise of
apartheid. The value and quality of those productions and the impact
of the era of protest theatre forms the central theme of most of the
academic and other writing about “South African Theatre” produced
from the mid-1970s until late in the 1990s. But what happened to
creative artists after 1994 once they suddenly found themselves like a
boxer in the ring without an opponent? In an interview with TIME
Magazine in March 1994 South Africa’s most prominent playwright
of the period, Athol Fugard, asked, “Am I about to become the new
South Africa’s first redundancy?” (Henry, 1994: 20). In order to
survive and to remain relevant, the theatre practitioners were
challenged to focus on a new set of issues and to make theatre in a
new social and political environment. Scholar, philosopher, novelist
and playwright Zakes Mda looked back in 2002 and noted, “In the
post-apartheid era South Africa is no longer just black and white.
There are shades of grey. We are now faced with complexities and
ambiguities that we need to interpret. We have become normal and
ordinary” (Mda, 2002: 282). On the one hand, the theatre-makers
were challenged to deal with a range of difficult issues, some old and
some new, but on the other hand, they were making theatre for a new
audience, in a dramatically transformed society, with new interests
and new expectations and also on a playing field where the rules had
changed dramatically, virtually overnight.
A comparative analysis of the many hundreds of original
productions (workshopped and/or scripted) that were mounted on the
professional stage in South Africa since 1994 indicates a number of
clear tendencies in focus and theme. Some of the most prominent
96 JOHANN VAN HEERDEN

general thematic trends that evolved amongst professional theatre-

makers during this period are described below.
Reconciliation in an historically bitterly divided society, newly
desegregated but still divided, was a top item on the political agenda
during the presidency of the first post-apartheid national leader,
Nelson Mandela. It was a topic that had been explored earlier by
some theatre-makers, such as Athol Fugard in his Playland (1992),
and it became a prominent theme after the 1994 elections. For his
first production in the new South Africa Fugard used inexperienced
actors to develop My Life (1994), bringing together five young South
African women from across the racial spectrum, ages ranging from
15 to 21, and facilitating the documentation of each one’s personal
experiences during the final days of apartheid and the first days of
democracy. With director Rebecca Waddell, he then developed their
“journals” into a stage presentation with each of the five girls
narrating her own story. In an interview with The Star Fugard
described the aim of the project in simple and direct terms as being
“to reflect and celebrate the cultural diversity and contrasts of our
South African reality” (Sichel, 1994: 1).
Even though apartheid was officially something of the past some
theatre-makers did feel the need to put the horrors of the past on
stage, sometimes intended as a contribution to an understanding and
reconciliation of historical divisions; reconciliation through looking
from a new perspective at events in the past. In 1995 Duma
kaNdlovu staged his Bergville Stories to an enthusiastic but mixed
reception. It dealt with an incident that took place in 1956, when a
group of policemen clashed with men in a rural black community in
Natal. The policemen went to some dagga [marijuana] plantations
near the village of Bergville to burn the crops, a source of (illegal)
income for the villagers. A violent skirmish resulted in the death of
five policemen and a number of the villagers. More than twenty men
from the community were arrested, tried and hanged in Pretoria
Central Prison. In his production KaNdlovu linked these historical
events theatrically as a narrative device to the plight of hostel
dwellers in Gauteng four decades later, the time of the production,
and he staged it through riveting narrative, combined with stirring
songs and vigorous dance routines. The production moved certain
audience members emotionally and outraged others, but the
playwright contended that the piece had a cathartic motive and that
his intention with the play was an effort to contribute to
reconciliation in the new South Africa and “to extend a healing hand
 BEYOND THE MIRACLE 97

to the entire community, let us forget the past and move forward into
the future” (Van der Walt, 1995: 19). Theatre critic Robert Greig, in
a review of Bergville Stories written in the form of a personal letter
to the playwright, his friend Duma kaNdlovu, respectfully pointed
out that the play had problems reaching all members of so diverse an
audience. He took the position of a white South African being
confronted with a play presented in such a style and dealing with
highly emotional issues in such a manner that made it difficult for
him to access the material in the way the playwright/director had
intended:

There’s a cultural issue here. A Western background tends to make one

inherently distrustful of group sentiment and its polluted, abstract
language and blindness to the particular or unique. I associate it with
the lies of politicians, public murderers and tele-salespeople. This is a
knee-jerk reaction which probably has to be unlearned – to an extent.
Your art does and can and wants to speak for and to the collective: your
play was partly created as a communal act of healing so it inevitably
uses language I distrust (Greig, 1995: 21).

Cultural differences, entrenched during so many years of forced

segregation, remained a sensitive issue during the early years after
1994, but as time moved on audiences often started to show a more
homogeneous reaction to stage productions. In a sense, this could
also be seen as a symptom of nationwide reconciliation.
Arguably the most important dramatic production dealing with
the theme of South Africans’ reconciliation with their past to be
staged in the first decade of the new South Africa did not take place
in a theatre nor was it done by theatre practitioners (except if the
media were to be accepted as “theatre practitioners” of sorts...).
Nevertheless, it mesmerised audiences around the country and it
echoed around the globe. Within a year after the elections of April
1994 legislation was drafted to form a Truth and Reconciliation
Commission (TRC). Its mandate was to look into the apartheid years,
specifically from March 1960 to December 1993, and to establish as
complete a picture as possible of the human rights violations
committed during that period. In broad terms, its ambitious and
challenging objective was to seek the truth, record it and make it
public knowledge; to restore the moral order of South African
society; to help create an environment which valued human dignity
and respected the law; and to prevent the brutalities of the past from
ever being repeated. The TRC held its first hearings in April 1996
98 JOHANN VAN HEERDEN

and was scheduled to complete its work by December 1997, but in

effect continued late into 1998.
Some theatre-makers used the drama of the TRC, open to the
public and reported daily in the media, as a source of direct
inspiration. An influential 1997 production which drew directly upon
the TRC for reference and dramatic content was Ubu and the Truth
Commission by Jane Taylor, a powerful Handspring Puppet
Company production directed by William Kentridge. Loosely
combining the outrageous Ubu character from French surrealist poet
Alfred Jarry’s anarchic puppet-play Ubu Roi (1896) with actual
testimonies heard at the TRC, the play examined some relevant
central questions about guilt, remorse, exoneration, justice and
injustice.
Staging plays which focused on social reconciliation in the new
South Africa did not stop when the TRC completed its work. The
issue continued to be explored as a more or less central theme in a
number of subsequent productions. Paul Slabolepszy’s 22nd play
Fordsburg’s Finest, a three-hander directed by Lara Foot-Newton
and featuring star actor Marius Weyers, African-American actress
Dorcas M Johnson and the author, premièred in 1998. The play is
about reconciliation: the daughter of a black South African musician
was taken by her parents to New York as an infant in the 1950s. She
lost them both at a young age, grew up to become a single, self-
assured African American and returns four decades later on a
pilgrimage to her birthplace in Fordsburg, Johannesburg to find her
roots. She finds the site of the house where she was born and it is
now a rundown used-car sales lot owned and occupied by a 50-year
old Afrikaner ex-policeman whose son died in the border war, whose
wife left him, and who has learnt to hide his pain behind the mask of
a used-car salesman. The encounter between these two damaged
individuals provides the situation for painful self-discovery, for an
exploration of the tensions existing in the new South African
condition, and ultimately it leads to a kind of reconciliation brought
about by a mutual recognition of suffering. “The play is about two
people who, having long walked on firm ground, now find that they
cannot take its firmness for granted. The old blacks and whites won’t
do anymore. The old baggage and clutter have to go” (Greig, 1998a:
14).
A second clear theatrical trend that emerged at this time in the
new South Africa could be described as the challenge of dealing with
the present while looking at the past. After the 1994 elections theatre-
 BEYOND THE MIRACLE 99

makers suddenly found themselves referring to the apartheid era in

the past tense. During the first decades of democracy it was certainly
too early to have any true objectivity or historical perspective on the
transgressions, the anger, the pain and the horrors of that era. The
country was taking its first careful steps in exploring democracy and
many theatre-makers were exploring life as they experienced it in this
new environment, but inevitably their work grew out of the legacy of
apartheid and remained contextualised by it. A wide range of major
productions dealt with the old South Africa in the context of issues
socially relevant to the new South Africa. As illustrated above, some
dealt specifically with reconciliation on various levels, while others
tried to come to terms with the past by focusing on guilt and blame
and shame, but also on the mistakes and the misunderstandings of the
apartheid era.
Die Jogger [The Jogger], the first play in twenty years from
award-winning novelist, academic and playwright André P. Brink,
directed by Ilse van Hemert, premièred at the 1997 KKNK after a
preliminary run in Cape Town, and subsequently won the playwright
the prestigious Hertzog Prize for drama in 2000. As a novelist Brink
was internationally acclaimed as a chronicler of the misdeeds
committed during the apartheid era, but his writing generally moved
away from that focus after 1994. In Die Jogger, however, Brink (an
Afrikaner himself) dealt head-on with the guilt of the Afrikaner
during the Nationalist Party days. In his protagonist, Killian, a white
policeman, Brink managed to create a character that dramatically and
brilliantly epitomised the feelings of guilt experienced by many
Afrikaners, but his play was widely perceived as being rather obscure
and academic in the glaring light of the actual TRC drama reflected
daily though the media.

Not only is the artistic impulse to bear historical testimony no longer

the moral imperative that it was in the bad old days, it has been
supplanted by the popular media’s constant revelations of actual
horrors. Put bluntly, who wants to watch a play about something that
(television journalist) Max du Preez covers on TV every Sunday night?
(Bristow-Bovey, 1997: 21).

Somehow the fictitious police colonel, however strongly

representative, symbolic and brilliantly drawn, could not achieve the
same dramatic impact as the real people appearing before the TRC or
the real-life victims narrating personally on stage.
100 JOHANN VAN HEERDEN

In a further example of plays illustrating the trend I have labelled

“Dealing with the present while looking at the past”, three women try
to come to terms with the present and the future through having a
hard look at the past in Athol Fugard’s Sorrows and Rejoicings
(2001). The central character is an Afrikaner poet who rejected
apartheid South Africa and went into exile in the 1980s. Now, sixteen
years later, he returns to die in his home town in the Karoo (a semi-
desert area in SA); the action takes place after his funeral, with the
three women in his life talking about the past, the present and the
future – the dead poet appears in flashbacks. The women are his
Johannesburg-born English-speaking wife, the coloured servant who
was also his mistress and mother of his child, and the daughter, who
stands for South Africa’s disaffected younger generation. In their
dialogue and through the flashbacks they explore the past and try to
understand the present. This play was part of a whole movement
through the first years of democracy which dealt with the immediate
as well as the more distant past as a catalyst to start dealing with the
challenges of a new present and the future.
A powerful contribution to the search in SA theatre for ways of
dealing with a new socio-political reality through critically looking at
the past came from Afrikaans anti-apartheid writer Breyten
Breytenbach, who had spent most of his life in exile in France and
also, during the 1970s, some time as a political prisoner in apartheid
South Africa. Renowned in South Africa mostly for his Afrikaans
poetry and short prose and in Europe for his work as a graphic artist,
Breytenbach wrote his first full-length drama Boklied [Goat Song] in
1998 and this was followed by The Life and Times of Johnny
Cockroach (1999) and Die Toneelstuk [The Play] (2001). Although
Breytenbach’s theatrical contribution was often highly personal and
autobiographical, it provided a provocative, erudite and very
controversial, although for many obscure and even bewildering, look
at the new South Africa with reference to the old.
The selection of plays discussed above illustrates a clear trend of
theatre-makers trying to come to terms with a new reality, while they
still struggled with the burden of the baggage of the past. Another
type of (subtly different) narrative play became noticeable, noticeable
to the extent that it came to represent a clear trend in early post-
apartheid theatre. Firmly part of an old African tradition, these were
plays that say, “Let me tell you my story”. The art of storytelling has
been an important part of African culture and social tradition for
millennia.
 BEYOND THE MIRACLE 101

Immediately after the “peaceful revolution” of 1994 every South

African individual and group of individuals was confronted with a
new, as yet undefined socio-political environment in which s/he or
they had to find themselves anew and also find a place and a role.
Interestingly, many theatre-makers initially tackled this challenge by
simply telling their story or the story of the group they were a
member of: “This is who I am and this is my story”, or “This is who
we are, and this is our story”. In a way this was almost reminiscent of
a group of shipwreck survivors finding each other on the beach of a
desert island and introducing themselves – they are a disparate group
thrown together, they are starting with a clean slate, and they need to
survive.
Some of these productions were factually biographical or
autobiographical, others were fictional narratives closely based on
fact and then there were purely fictional plays simply utilising the
technique. Like the TRC plays, these productions also had a clear
cathartic intent, but on the other hand, they often seemed to be a clear
statement of introduction and self-identification, like the shipwreck
survivors in the metaphor. These productions also contained an
element of self-exploration in the context of a new socio-political
environment, i.e. the new Rainbow Nation. Finally, the “Let me tell
you my story” approach often also had an element of self-
determination and confirmation built into it. Whatever the specific
theme of individual productions following this trend, the general
theme was clearly one of identity and identification, as Zakes Mda
confirmed in 2002: “Issues of identity are emerging very strongly in
South African discourse today” (Mda, 2002: 287). Strong examples,
amongst many, of such plays are The Captain’s Tiger – A Memoir
for the Stage by Athol Fugard (1997), Old Boys by Anthony
Akerman (1996), A Woman in Waiting by Thembi Mtshali (1999),
Amajuba – Like Doves We Rise, workshopped by Yael Farber (2001)
and At Her Feet by Nadia Davids (2003). But not all analysts
received this trend positively and some started questioning the
theatrical value of all this personal story-telling on theatre stages:

Between stories and drama falls a shadow, and this shadow reduces the
brilliance of [some of these plays]. ‘Telling our stories’ – always said
now unctuously – is not the same as making theatre. Everyone can tell
stories and far too many. Few can make theatre and few do. The
challenges are different. One is immediacy, a rule of thumb: stories
happen then and there, drama happens here and now, as you watch. The
current fad for narrative is deadly to theatre (Greig, 2000: 11).
102 JOHANN VAN HEERDEN

Despite the scepticism amongst some influential commentators,

playwrights continued to tell their stories, or their cultural group’s
stories. As a member of the Afrikaner minority, the predominant
section of the earlier minority ruling class of white South Africans,
controversial playwright/director Deon Opperman boldly chose to
tell their story as he saw it, when he premièred his Donkerland [Dark
Country] at the KKNK in 1996. “This is my attempt at singing the
song of a nation. A nation which is a mixture of nobility and
monstrosity, which slaughtered, but also was slaughtered”
(Opperman quoted in Anonymous, 1995: 4). Donkerland was an epic
drama of five hours duration, in two parts and consisting of 10 short
plays of 20-45 minutes each, with 11 actors playing 68 characters and
telling the story of seven generations of an Afrikaner family living on
the farm Donkerland in Natal, a saga spanning a century and a half
from 1838 to 1996. It told the story of the Afrikaner from the Great
Trek to the present, as it was intertwined with the stories of the other
cultures and peoples inhabiting the land. Opperman presented the
saga as if holding up a mirror for the Afrikaners to see what brought
them to this current reality, to question their place in it and their
future. Ultimately Opperman’s mirror reflected the socio-political
pessimism experienced by many Afrikaners immediately after the
1994 elections; all that will remain of the Afrikaner in this dark
country, the play suggests, will be as fleeting as a snail’s trail across
a rock on the farm Donkerland, a mere footnote in the annals of
history.
Since racial classification and separation dominated life in
apartheid South Africa, issues surrounding social and cultural
groupings and identities continued echoing, also in the theatre.
Theatre-makers from minority groups, who often felt threatened by a
new kind of marginalisation in a new socio-political order, brought
their stories to the stage and insisted on being seen and heard.
Together with Donkerland, some prominent examples reflecting the
lives of other minority groups included Out of Bounds (1999), The
Coolie Odyssey (2002), Salaam Stories (2001), A Coloured Place
(1998), No Room for Squares (2000) and Vatmaar (2002).
The people were telling their stories, and by doing so insisting
that they were an integral part of the new landscape and were vying
for a seat at least on the bandwagon, if not on the gravy train. While
some theatre-makers were telling their own stories, others took up the
challenge to look critically at the recorded history of the country’s
peoples. While scholars and historians were challenged to rewrite or
 BEYOND THE MIRACLE 103

at least to reinterpret the recorded history in line with new

perspectives, some prominent theatre productions explored historical
subjects on the stage from the perspective of a new reality.
When the award-winning Anglo-Boer War novel Op soek na
Generaal Mannetjies Mentz [In search of General Mannetjies Mentz]
(1998) by Christoffel Coetzee was published just before the
centenary of the start of the 1899-1902 war (also known as the South
African War), it unleashed an energetic academic polemic mostly
concerned with its historical credibility and perceived negative
portrayal of the Boer warriors. The debate was particularly focused
on the monstrous protagonist Mentz and his presumably fictitious
“wraakkommando” [“revenge commando”] that searched out Boers
who had laid down their arms and persuaded them to continue
fighting the war. As the flagship production of the second Aardklop
Festival (1999), the cream of Afrikaans theatre practitioners (director,
designer and cast) were employed to mount a high-budget, large-
scale, heavily sponsored stage production based on the book. The
stage version remained true to the novel’s destruction of stereotypes
and demythologising of the accepted version of the history of the
Anglo-Boer War. It also redefined the roles played in the conflict by
Boer, Brit and Black (Hough, 1999: 2). On a wide canvas the
production dealt with the horrors of war, gender and racial
stereotyping, the conflict between Western and African thought and
religion, and a philosophical examination of the darker undercurrents
that determine human behaviour.
Another example of a play looking at history through new eyes
was Mbongeni Ngema’s The Zulu (1999). Controversial musical
writer and director Ngema, who had commercial success
internationally with his earlier musical dramas such as the Tony
Award-winning Asinamali! [We have no money!] (1984) and
Sarafina (1987), Township Fever (1990), Magic at 4AM (1993) and
Sarafina 2 (1995) premièred his The Zulu at the Market Theatre in
1999. The colourful, energetic musical tells the story of the Zulu
warriors’ victory over British soldiers at the battle of Isandlwana in
1879 during the Zulu War in Natal. Ngema had chosen this historical
incident because it was “the first time that Africans, anywhere on the
continent, had defeated whites” (Ngema, quoted in Molakeng, 1999:
26). He found it appropriate to celebrate that victory in the aftermath
of the ANC’s election victory of 1994: “this is an opportune time for
blacks to savour this victorious spirit over whites, who had beaten us
badly over many years”. With The Zulu Mbongeni Ngema selected
104 JOHANN VAN HEERDEN

an isolated historical event, one with great dramatic impact, and

retold the story in support of the ideal of an “African Renaissance”,
rather than in the spirit of reconciliation in the new Rainbow Nation.
While the old South Africa had an internationally acclaimed
reputation for so-called “Black Musicals”, such as King Kong (1959),
Ipi Tombi (1974), Sarafina! (1987) and others, featuring energetic
and colourful song and dance, a trend became clear in the theatre of
the new South Africa which could be labelled “Dancing to a true
African beat”. The thematic focus in productions featuring black
African song and dance seemed to shift away from (often clichéd)
popular entertainment and, in certain instances, contemporary socio-
political comment and protest, to an exploration of traditional black
culture, history and ritual in a non-political way. Theatre-makers like
Andrew and Janet Buckland, Ellis Pearson and Bheki Mkhwane,
Mark Fleishman and Jenny Reznek, Brett Bailey and others started to
explore the powerful theatrical elements of black (South) African
cultures, history, mythology, symbolism, performance traditions and
even (often sacred) rituals on stage. Exploring Black African culture
and ritual led to some powerful productions. Interestingly, though,
the most significant of these projects were driven not by black
theatre-makers, but by a handful of white ones, and Zakes Mda
observed that “generally white playwrights are the only ones who
have ventured into using African ritual on the theatrical stage. Blacks
still hold these rituals in awe” (Mda, 2002: 286). Although white
entrepreneurs had been exploiting the “African” element in
performance, particularly in musical performance, song and dance,
for many years, the examination of African culture and ritual on stage
became an important part of the trend under discussion here.
The plays of Brett Bailey were strong illustrations of this trend.
His work was original, innovative, brave and intriguing. Robert
Greig, an influential theatre critic not known for hyperbole, described
Brett Bailey simply as “the best thing in South African theatre today”
(Greig, 1999: 12) and claimed later that “Brett Bailey is undoubtedly
the most exciting, provocative stage director in South Africa” (Greig,
2001a: 10). Bailey created three plays, iMumbo Jumbo (1997), Ipi
Zombi? (1998) and The Prophet (1999) as gritty, energetic,
interactive happenings by submerging himself in Xhosa culture,
ritual, history, mythology and symbolism. With great respect for the
culture of the members of his company, he shaped the theatrical
productions, while allowing himself to be led by their traditions,
sensitivities, customs and beliefs. In a 1998 interview Bailey related,
 BEYOND THE MIRACLE 105

“We take the 41-member cast, which includes some working

sangomas, into a trance every morning of rehearsal, which runs its
course for 10 to 15 minutes, before we get started on the day’s
business” (O’Hara, 1998: 4). While crafting his theatrical happenings
to be accessible to audience members from all cultures, he developed
a working and workshop method which allowed the complexities of
his subject matter to surface in a way that could echo in the new
South Africa.
Two more examples of the trend were Makana (2001) and
Thuthula, Heart of the Labyrinth (1980 and 2003) by Chris Zithulele
Mann, both staged by Andrew and Janet Buckland. In Makana, in
typically physical Buckland style, using mime, dance and song, four
actors playing many roles told the story of Makana, the charismatic
amaXhosa chief, visionary, prophet, warrior and orator. Using
Makana’s dramatic history as their narrative, the Bucklands staged a
multimedia production that combined their own style of physical
theatre with the use of song, dance, Xhosa praise poetry and African
ritual. The initiation rites that include the circumcision of young boys
and the slaughter of a cow as a sacrifice to the ancestors are examples
of sacred rituals that formed part of the action. The production dealt
with sensitive material and portrayed a fascinating historical figure in
a brilliantly theatrical way that was entertaining and at the same time
thought-provoking. “Makana is polemical, at a time when South
Africans are turning over the coinage of history in their hands and
looking at the other side” (Greig, 2001c: 11).
Predictably, a strong trend in the professional theatre of the new
South Africa, producing a large number of plays, was to take a
critical look at life in this new emerging democracy, as if in a mirror.
Art in general, and the theatre in particular, have often been
described as a mirror – the theatre as a mirror reflecting the society it
invites to fill the auditorium and to observe images of itself reflected
in the glare of the footlights. In Theatre and Society in South Africa
Temple Hauptfleisch uses the mirror image and notes in the context
of the complexity of democratic South African society and the mirror
that reflects it, “For not only is our society fragmented – and it will
be so for some while still I fear – but the mirror itself is a fractured
instrument, reflecting skewed and partial images, from odd angles at
times – or bleary and obscure ones, if any at all” (Hauptfleisch, 1997:
21). All performing art can be interpreted as a reflection, consciously
or unconsciously, of the society that gave birth to it. Many prominent
productions staged in the first decades of the new South Africa,
106 JOHANN VAN HEERDEN

however, very consciously and intentionally attempted to hold up the

mirror and to reflect selected images from the new South African
landscape to their audiences.
An example: in early 1994 the most frequently asked and most
obvious question in South Africa was not who was going to win the
elections – that was a foregone conclusion – but how democracy was
going to change the country. Playwright John Ledwaba was amongst
the first to ask this question in post-1994 South African theatre. His
Jozi Jozi Guide (1994) premièred at the Windybrow Arts Festival in
March 1993 and opened for a run at the Market Theatre to coincide
with the elections in 1994. The play held up an image of life in the
most populous metropolis in the country and focused on the
transformation, the “Africanisation” that was already taking place in
the city of Johannesburg.
Ledwaba’s play was followed by many others, similarly looking
at life in this new reality and exploring it as experienced by
individuals from a variety of cultural groupings. Space does not
allow any analysis of these plays here, but a short list might open the
door to some further investigation. Some prominent examples:
Victoria Almost Falls by Paul Slabolopszy (1994), Valley Song by
Athol Fugard (1995), Down Adderley Street by Itumeleng Wa-
Lehulere (1995), Dinner Talk by Mike van Graan (1997), Ma-Gents
workshopped and directed by Lara Foot-Newton (1997), Not With
My Gun by Aubrey Sekhabi and Mpumelelo Paul Grootboom (1998),
Planet Perth by Paul Slabolepszy (1998), Suip! [(to) Booze!] by
Heinrich Reisenhofer and Oscar Peterson (1993 and rewritten in
1999), Love, Crime and Johannesburg by Malcolm Purkey and Carol
Steinberg (1999), Milestones by Mandla Langa (1999), Stand in the
Sun by John Hunt (1999), The Great Outdoors by Neil McCarthy
(2000) (Robert Greig described this play as “A mountain of South
African theatre – one of the most complex and mature plays written
in this country in the past two decades, it makes others look infantile”
(Greig, 2001b)), Comrades Arms by Anthony Akerman (2000),
Fanon’s Children, by Lesego Rampolokeng (2001), Nothing but the
Truth by John Kani (2002) (in his first drama Kani, predominantly
famous as an actor and not as a dramatist, also chose to focus on the
realities of life in post-apartheid South Africa as a central theme),
Happy Natives by Greig Coetzee (2002), Green Mamba by John van
de Ruit and Ben Voss (2002).
Another trend discernable in the new South African theatre was
one that can be entitled “sexually explicit and proudly gay”. Apart
 BEYOND THE MIRACLE 107

from the predominant issues of racial and gender equality, life in the
new democracy was governed by a number of new perspectives
reflected in and protected by the new Constitution. These obviously
put a strong focus on individual human rights and human liberties, in
clear contrast to the values and laws that governed life in the old
South Africa, and included a relaxed approach to freedom of
expression and freedom of association, also sexual association. The
entertainment media in the new democracy, including cinema,
television and the theatre, enjoyed a relaxed environment in terms of
control and formal censorship. Explicit nudity and sex, including
interracial and same-sex relationships, became commonplace as
central or peripheral themes in theatre productions. At festivals,
particularly on the fringe, but also in mainstream productions, nudity
on stage featured routinely.
Interestingly, gay and lesbian pride was not a subject explicitly
explored by black theatre-makers or focused on in productions aimed
at predominantly black audiences during the time of the racially
segregated theatre of apartheid South Africa. In 1997 the Gay and
Lesbian Archives (GALA) were established to provide a permanent
home for the wide range of historical and archival material relating to
homosexual experience, covering the full racial spectrum in South
Africa. Inspired by archived documentation recounting the
experiences specifically of black gays and lesbians since the early
decades of the 20th century, theatre-maker Robert Colman
workshopped, wrote and directed the jazzy gay musical After Nines
in 1997, with musical arrangement and direction by Xoli Norman and
choreography by Somizi Mhlongo. Against the background of the
constitutionally protected right to sexual preference in the new
democracy, the musical documented, in song-and dance style, black
gay history in South Africa. It was a history full of secrecy, pain,
shame and often brutality. After Nines took its title from the concept
in the black townships of the 1930s that a person could only be gay
or lesbian after nine o’clock in the evening, mentioned in a song:

Even when it was a crime,

Everybody did it all the time,
But only After Nine!

“The portrait of black gays (in After Nines) corrects historical

amnesia and ... goes some way to correcting the imbalanced view of
gays in South Africa” (Greig, 1998b: 13). “It heralds the arrival of
the new protest play, a demand for freedom of expression, a
108 JOHANN VAN HEERDEN

celebration of freedom of choice” (Barker, 1998: 6). The celebration

of freedom of choice in terms of sexual preference in the case of
specifically black gay pride was not common enough to be described
as a trend in the first decade of democracy, but a play like After Nines
certainly contributed to the strong theme in the theatre of celebrating
liberation and equality in general under the new Constitution. It also
paved the way for Colman’s Your Loving Simon (2003), a powerful
factual account of the life of gay rights activist and political prisoner
Tseko Simon Nkoli (1957-1998), who died of an AIDS-related
illness at the age of just forty, and other plays.

MOVING INTO THE 21ST CENTURY

The productions selected here, and this is only a selection out of
many that could have been chosen, are intended to illustrate some
main trends in focus and theme that developed “beyond the miracle”
in the early post-anti-apartheid professional theatre of South Africa
(1994-2004).
The strongest impression is that a wide diversity of issues
reached the stage in the aftermath of the singular political struggle
that dominated the most prominent theatre of the immediately
preceding period. The changes in the political landscape, the first
steps towards social upliftment, the celebration of liberation and
equality and many other elements and challenges that accompanied
the birth of the Rainbow Nation formed a wide socio-political
backdrop against which theatre-makers were challenged to practise
their art. The theatre landscape changed dramatically, commercial
dynamics and mechanisms of funding changed, the proliferation of
arts festivals had a huge impact on the demographics of audiences
and consequently on the nature and scale of original local
productions. All of these factors worked together in shaping the
theatre of the early post-apartheid period, the period I am writing in.
Also emerging clearly is the fact that the distance between the
various cultural, social and particularly racial groupings that resulted
from a long period of forced separation have proved too wide to be
successfully bridged quickly or easily in both everyday life and in the
theatre, on stage as well as in the auditorium – the first years of
integration have not been long enough for this, but clearly the
groundwork was being laid for a future which can be rich and varied.
It will take a large part of this century to work out the implications of
these factors in full.
 BEYOND THE MIRACLE 109

The reality in the new South Africa in the early part of the new
millennium is that, while apartheid is officially dead, its legacy is still
strongly present. In a sense, the new social and political realities are
in many ways much more complex, much less clear-cut. As
witnesses of, and commentators on, the new realities around them,
the theatre-makers are being challenged not only by a theatre industry
that had changed dramatically, new economic realities, and an
audience that has new habits, needs and expectations, they are also
challenged with a quest for subject matter that could be perceived as
relevant, interesting, entertaining and above all financially viable
when translated into live theatre productions.
Although during the first two decades since 1994 there have been
successes and clear signs of strong potential for future decades, in
these early years the professional theatre has not only undergone a
period of initial adjustment to the new realities and the challenges
faced in a new socio-political environment, but it has also, to a
degree, been the reflection of those new realities and challenges in
the mirror that is the theatre of this new democracy.

REFERENCES
Anonymous. 1995. Opperman se Donkerland opgevoer. In: Die Burger,
November 8, 1995: 4.
Bain, Keith & Hauptfleisch, Temple. 2001. Playing the changes: Thoughts
on the restructuring of the theatrical system and the arts industry in
South Africa after apartheid. SATJ 15: 8-24.
Barker, Julie. 1998. After Nines: An innovative and uplifting jazzy musical,
that opens the closet doors on gay and lesbian history in South Africa.
In: Vuka SA, July 31, 1998: 6.
Botha, Johann. 1994. Naspers borg nuwe kunstefees. In: Die Burger,
February 26, 1994: 4.
Bristow-Bovey, Darrel. 1997a. I couldn’t decide if Brink’s play reminded
me of theatre in the eighties or last night’s eight o’clock news. In: The
Sunday Independent, March 16, 1997: 21.
Department of Arts, Culture, Science and Technology. 1996. White Paper
on Arts, Culture and Heritage: All our legacies, our common future.
Pretoria. June 4, 1996.
Greig, Robert. 1995. Bergville Stories evoke complex responses about
theatre language. In: The Sunday Independent, November 26, 1995: 21.
110 JOHANN VAN HEERDEN

________. 1998a. Slabolepszy makes a bold move, but his nostalgia is

overpowering. In: The Sunday Independent, February 15, 1998: 14.
________. 1998b. Too gay for a brutal and forgotten subject. In: The
Sunday Independent, September 6, 1998: 13.
________. 1999. Genre-bending operas breach fresh frontier. In: The
Sunday Independent, July 4, 1999: 12.
________. 2000. Profound play in which the shoe mostly fits. In: The
Sunday Independent, June 4, 2000: 11.
________. 2001a. Roll up for a relentlessly feverish vision of Amin’s circus
maximus. In: The Sunday Independent, July 8, 2001: 10.
________. 2001b. A mountain of South African theatre - One of the most
complex and mature plays written in this country in the past two
decades, it makes others look infantile. In: The Sunday Independent,
April 29, 2001: 21.
________. 2001c. History brought to life in hard-edged vignettes. In: The
Sunday Independent, September 16, 2001: 11.
________. 2003. Filling of seats now takes centre stage: Several theatres
countrywide are to become state-funded playhouses. In: The Sunday
Independent, April 27, 2003: 10.
Hauptfleisch, Temple. 1997. Theatre and Society in South Africa:
Reflections in a Fractured Mirror. Pretoria: J.L. Van Schaik.
________. 2006a. Eventifying Identity: The Little Karoo National Arts
Festival and the search for cultural identity in South Africa. In: New
Theatre Quarterly Vol. XXII, Part 2, May 2006: 181-198.
Henry, William A III. 1994. Home is where the Art is: South African
dissident Athol Fugard happily loses his great theme and sets his sights
on a post-apartheid world. In: TIME Magazine, March 21, 1994: 20.
Hough, Barry. 1999. Waarheid wat spook in dié oorlogsdrama: Filmiese
aanslag in Boere se ‘Gone With the Wind’. In: Rapport, October 3,
1999: 2.
Makhaya, Elliot. 1997. New SA cultural festival. In: The Sowetan, May 19,
1997: 14.
Mda, Z. 2002. South African Theatre in an Era of Reconciliation. In:
Harding, Frances (ed.) The Performance Arts in Africa. New York:
Routledge. 279-289.
Molakeng, Saint. 1999. Magic of black victory. In: The Sowetan, November
25, 1999: 26.
National Arts Council website: www.nac.gov.za.
 BEYOND THE MIRACLE 111

O’Hara, Glynis. 1998. iMumbo Jumbo. In: Vuka SA, January 31, 1998: 4.
Performing Arts Network of South Africa. 2005. Towards an understanding
of the South African Theatre Industry. www.artslink.co.za/pansa
Sichel, Adrienne. 1994. Fugard’s novel ‘recital’. In: The Star, June 14,
1994: 1.
Swart, Simona. 1997. Uitstekende werk pateties bygewoon. In: Volksblad,
September, 22, 1997: 8.
Van der Walt, Terry. 1995. Shortie’s last stand. In: Sunday Tribune, April
30, 1995: 19.
CHAPTER 4

TRANSFORMATION AND THE DRAMA STUDIES

CURRICULUM IN SOUTH AFRICA: A SURVEY OF
SELECTED UNIVERSITIES
PATRICK EBEWO

INTRODUCTION
One year after apartheid was institutionalised in South Africa in
1948, separate development, which was a core feature of the
apartheid government, extended its frontiers to the education sector.
Historians and specialists in education studies have recorded with
different shades of emphasis the negative impact of apartheid on
education in South Africa. In 1949 the apartheid government
appointed the Eiselen Commission on Native Education; its terms of
reference were, among others, to formulate principles and aims of
education for black South Africans as an independent race and “The
modification of the Africans’ school system in respect of the content
and form of the syllabi that should prepare them effectively for their
future occupation” (Horrell, 1968:5). This system of segregated
schooling, which initially affected mainly the elementary (primary),
high and secondary schools, was made into law and became known
as the Bantu Education Act of 1954.
In 1959 the University Extension Act gave the apartheid
government the authority to extend the Bantu education system to
higher institutions of learning, particularly the universities. The
Bantu universities constituted the bulk of what are popularly known
today as the “historically black universities” (HBUs). They were
represented by the University of Fort Hare, established in 1916 at
Alice, Eastern Cape, to serve the needs of Xhosa students and
students of the then South-West Africa (present-day Namibia) and
Rhodesia (Zimbabwe); the University of the North at Turfloop to
cater for the Northern and Southern Sotho, Tswana, Venda, Tsonga,
and Transvaal Ndebele groups; the University of Zululand at Ngoye
114 PATRICK EBEWO

to serve Zulu and Swazi students (Horrell 1968 cited in Ilorah,

2006:443). The University of Western Cape was established
primarily to serve the needs of the Coloured (mixed-race) students,
and the University of Durban-Westville was established for the
Indian student population. In summary, Bantu education was a
segregated form of education, inferior, discriminatory, under-funded,
ill-equipped and, above all, it was condescendingly reserved for non-
whites. Indeed, Bantu education hinged on the principles of systemic
“differentiation”, which have come to denote a threat to equity and
social justice.

The strongest argument against education differentiation… is that, by

providing different education experiences for various children, we run
the risk of offering an education that is better for some (that is, of
higher quality) than for others: that is, it runs the risk of producing
inequity. In a society such as South Africa, which has gross social
inequalities, education differentiation tends to accentuate them. (Centre
for Higher Education and Transformation Framework Report, 1993:21).

Ilorah (2006:449-450) reveals that “Beginning from the elementary

school level, many things were inadequate. For example, many
instructors (teachers and lecturers) were not qualified, and were yet
so overloaded and poorly paid to encourage advancement through
staff academic development programmes.” Ilorah refers to Geber and
Newman’s (1980:70) illuminating revelation of the teacher-learner
ratio of 54:1 for Africans, which compared poorly to 20:1 for whites.
He also brings to the fore the imbalances of the past as unveiled by
Horrell, who compared the 1945 government expenditure on a white
pupil, which was R76.58, to that on the black pupil, namely R7.78; in
1960 the corresponding figures were R144.57 and R12.46,
respectively (1968:39).
The Bantu education system was not without its critics and it met
with stiff opposition. The Holloway Commission, which was set up
in 1953, rejected wholesale the idea of segregated schooling for non-
white students and went a step further to argue that an open
university approach closely meets the needs of a multiracial society
(Ilorah, 2006: 15-16). The South African Institute of Race Relations,
the Education League of South Africa and the National Union of
South African Students vehemently opposed the Bantu education
system (Ilorah, 2006: 447). Directly linked with opposition to Bantu
education system was the eloquent and defiant rejection of the system
by black secondary school students, who spearheaded the Soweto
 THE DRAMA STUDIES CURRICULUM IN SOUTH AFRICA 115

Uprising of 1976, when hundreds of learners who opposed

imposition of Afrikaans as a language of instruction even in Bantu
schools were ruthlessly massacred (Geber and Newman, 1980:98;
Ilorah, 2006:448).
For the black population apartheid meant all that is evil –
disfranchisement, oppression and poverty: “The policies of the
apartheid era fuelled the gas of racial and ethnic divisions throughout
the society, to the extent that different communities were segregated
geographically, economically and socially. The bitterness engendered
by the racist practices of apartheid rule thus presented real threat to
the creation of a peaceful post-apartheid society” (Tapscott,
1993:29). Yet there is a dire need for peace and peaceful co-existence
between people of the different races in the country. Hence, when
apartheid rule was terminated in 1994, former President Mandela and
his Government of National Unity adopted the policy of national
reconciliation and established the Truth and Reconciliation
Commission in February 1996. This Commission, headed by
Archbishop Desmond Tutu, was instituted to look into the offences
committed by certain individuals or organs during most of the
apartheid period. This was done with a positive view to establishing
lasting peace and the co-existence of the peoples of the multiracial
society of South Africa.
Unfortunately the dent left by apartheid is still apparent as the
country continues to face problems of social cohesion, equity and
transformation. The post-apartheid education sector is not without its
own share of problems and distractions. Several government papers
and policies have been issued, restructuring of some processes has
been done, and revised curricula and syllabi have been implemented
in an attempt to address the imbalances of the past. Equity and access
are paramount and the new democracy emphasises equality and
freedom to pursue a career in any field of study that will contribute to
the development of South Africa. No subject in the school curriculum
is to be marginalised. More than anything else, the post-apartheid
educational system stresses a paradigm shift from the old Eurocentric
model to a novel model that places Africa in the centre of things. It is
in this regard that some South African scholars have indeed called for
the Africanisation of the syllabus within the South African school
system. We shall come to this issue later in the paper.
The main premise and argument of this paper is based on the
assumption that the African drama studies’ curriculum has
experienced minimal transformational impact because it is not
116 PATRICK EBEWO

properly foregrounded in the curriculum. Since the recurriculation

phase of the syllabus is not yet consolidated in many South African
universities, the drama programme seems beclouded with the
Eurocentricism that was the dominant practice during the apartheid
era. We should immediately state that there are indeed some
universities in South Africa that are adapting fast to the new
developments and changes in the higher education sector, particularly
the University of Cape Town. The aim of this paper is to investigate
the extent to which the concept of African-oriented content has been
foregrounded in the theatre curriculum of selected South African
universities in the 21st century. The paper explores the prevailing gap
between local and continental African contents in South African
theatre studies and the efforts being made to desegregate the
curriculum. The major objective is to explore the extent to which
South African universities have incorporated relevant South African
and continental African materials in the teaching of the drama
disciplines and in theatre productions. Drama is one of the arts
disciplines that are very close to the core of the people’s culture.
Looking at drama departments at tertiary institutions is a useful
gauge of transformation, given the nature of the discipline, situated as
it is at the interface between lived social experience and academic
requirements. It is hoped that the survey results would be used to
inform and facilitate curriculum design and review at higher
institutions of learning in South Africa.
This survey benefited from qualitative research methodology
involving selective interviews, perusal of relevant documents and
website visits, observations, going through production books, theatre
galleries and combing archival records. Also, aspects of evaluation
research methodology that is considered to be an important tool of
programme management (Lategan and Lues, 2005: 21) have been
utilised as a process of assessing the extent to which South African
universities have incorporated African drama as a constituent part of
their drama curricula. In this regard “theory-driven evaluation”
(Weiss, 2000) and syllabus-based evaluation processes have been
utilised. Van der Westhuizen (2007:552) has observed that formal
evaluations of progress with policy implementation have been few in
number, and mostly limited to evaluations for accreditation purposes.
The need for formal evaluation is therefore paramount and many
specialists in education (including Fiske and Ladd, 2004 as pointed
out by van der Westhuizen, 2007) have argued that South Africa has
moved out of the symbolic policy phase to that of delivery and
 THE DRAMA STUDIES CURRICULUM IN SOUTH AFRICA 117

progress evaluation. I accept totally the approaches of some experts

such as Weiss (1997), who conceptualise the role of evaluation as
“deliberation” and “enlightenment” (Fischer 1995 cited in van der
Westhuizen, 2007: 556). It is considered that this approach, which is
less technical but more academic, allows for evaluation of the
curriculum; it does not to pose as a problem-solving tool but assists
in reflection, refinement and the deliberation of public problems. It is
legitimate to query whether a survey of course materials as presented
on a website or as a course outline in an academic calendar always
indicates the way the material is approached during teaching. In this
regard, critics may aver that while African course content may not be
mentioned as part of the curriculum, there may be practices and
methodologies that do in fact speak to African contents that are not
made obvious. Logical as the argument might sound, the fact remains
that if other geographical zones outside Africa are given prominence,
Africa should be given more prominence. The reflection of the
African contents should be very transparent and not couched within
the presentation of other materials.
This survey is a pilot study; the study population consists of four
former historically white universities (HWUs): the Universities of
Stellenbosch, Rhodes, the Free State and Pretoria. Tshwane
University of Technology has been selected to represent the
universities of technology sector and, furthermore, the former
Technikon Pretoria, home of the merged institutions, was
predominantly a historically white institution of higher learning. The
survey covers a ten-year period between 1999 and 2009.

TRANSFORMATION OF THE HIGHER EDUCATION

SECTOR
Transformation is a by-product of reconciliation following the end of
the apartheid era. Since 1994 the South African democratic
government has put in place several political, economic and social
interventionist policies in order to make the new-found freedom a
reality. Redress plays a pivotal role in diminishing, instead of
promoting inequalities. In the education sector, in particular,
ambitious programmes are in place to transform the school system, to
remedy deficiencies of the past and to provide improved quality and
relevant school education which will assist “learners to reclaim
learning institutions for their true purpose, and develop a growing
solidarity of all participants in the learning process around the
disciplines and the joys of learning, teaching and service” (DoE,
118 PATRICK EBEWO

1997: 17). Not only have parastatals such as Higher Education South
Africa (HESA) and the National Commission on Higher Education
(NCHE) been created, but a special Centre for Higher Education
Transformation (CHET) has also been established. The mandate
before CHET is to deal with issues affecting transformation in the
higher education sector. The vision of government is to “contribute to
the advancement of all forms of knowledge and scholarship, and in
particular address the diverse problems and demands of the local,
national, southern African and African contexts, and uphold rigorous
standards of academic quality” (DoE, 1997: 7), with some of its goals
being:

- To diversify the system in terms of the mix of institutional

missions and programmes that will be required to meet national
and regional needs in social, cultural and economic development
(9);

- To improve the quality of teaching and learning throughout the

system and, in particular, to ensure that curricula are responsive to
the national and regional context (10, italics mine);

- Increased and broadened participation. Successful policy must

overcome an historically determined pattern of fragmentation,
inequity and inefficiency. It must increase access for black,
women, disabled and mature students, generate new curricula and
flexible models of learning and teaching, including modes of
delivery, to accommodate a larger and more diverse student
population (9, italics mine).

The White Paper on Transformation also clearly states:

South Africa’s transition from apartheid and minority rule to democracy

requires that all existing practices, institutions and values are viewed
anew and rethought in terms of their fitness for the new era. Higher
education plays a central role in the social, cultural and economic
development of modern societies. In South Africa today, the challenge
is to redress past inequalities and to transform the higher education
system to serve a new social order, to meet pressing national needs, and
to respond to new realities and opportunities. It must lay the
foundations for the development of a learning society which can
stimulate, direct and mobilize the creative and intellectual energies of
all the people towards meeting the challenge of reconstruction and
development (1997:1).
 THE DRAMA STUDIES CURRICULUM IN SOUTH AFRICA 119

“Throughout the world, universities constantly look at their

programmes to ensure that they are in tandem with the changes
happening around them” (Mzila and Lalendle, 2006:20). The new
landscape in the South African education sector emphasises the
incorporation of African contents and values into the school
curriculum. Though government is not explicit on matters of
Africanisation of the South African higher education syllabi, many
academics and activists have advocated that this be undertaken
(Mzila, 2004; Ekong and Cloete, 1997; Botha, 2007). The Revised
National Curriculum Statement sees education as being a vehicle for
building a national South African identity immersed in values
markedly different from those that characterised apartheid education
(Mzila and Lalendle 2006:16). Though this paper is not in full
agreement with the ideology of the Africanisation of education
because of its perceived narrow focus in a world that has increasingly
globalised; yet it nevertheless agrees with some of the principles and
debates around this issue, especially on Africanisation viewed as
“The need for a balance between indigenous knowledge and
knowledge from elsewhere” (Mazonde, n.d: 20). Coetzee (1999 cited
in Botha, 2007:207) contends that the Africanising of universities
encompasses three dimensions. The first dimension refers to the
academic decolonisation of Africa, thereby confirming the
connectedness of African universities to Africa and promoting a
unique African philosophy (indigenous knowledge systems) and
culture at these institutions. He presents the second dimension as the
relevance of these institutions to Africa, in that they ought to address
the needs and expectations of developing, mainly third world,
countries in Africa. Thirdly, the legitimacy of universities in Africa is
measured in terms of their focus on the needs, circumstances and
aspirations of Africans. As stated above, my position in this matter is
the striking of a balance between indigenous African knowledge
systems and other knowledge systems as they exist in other parts of
the world. The emphasis should of course be on Africa.
In essence, the paper is in support of the view that authentic
African knowledge systems (culture) and artistic inclinations should
be given a major consideration when drawing up the syllabus.
Universities in Africa owe the continent a duty to champion and
promote its development agenda through transformation. This is why
they exist as African universities. All over the world (especially in
times before our own) the university has always served as a reservoir
not just of knowledge but of advanced knowledge. Besides teaching,
120 PATRICK EBEWO

universities are, in terms of their mandate, research institutions.

Specialised research outputs from university researchers need
specialised outlets for the research findings to reach the targeted
stakeholders and lovers of knowledge.
Over and above other concerns and amongst other reasons,
African universities were created to deal with issues that directly
impact on Africa, and to present a native view on subjects pertaining
to the continent, since there was an assumed bias in reporting and
research about Africa by the developed world. Universities in Africa
are structures that will help in the realisation of the Millennium
Development Goals and the dreams of the African Renaissance,
which, above other things, emphasise self-reliance, cultural
awareness and integrated development. African universities, the
think-tanks of the African nations, should contribute to the New
Partnership for Africa’s Development (NEPAD) which is

Based on a common vision and a firm and shared conviction, that they
[African leaders] have a pressing duty to eradicate poverty and to place
their countries, both individually and collectively, on a path of
sustainable growth and development and, at the same time, to
participate actively in the world economy and body politic. The
programme is anchored on the determination of Africans to extricate
themselves and the continent from the malaise of underdevelopment
and exclusion in a globalizing world (African Union, 2001).

Universities are not only instruments of education and culture,

but also of providing the continent with a means of expression
generated from within the continent itself. The Conference on Higher
Education Curriculum and Society: Relevance, Quality and
Development, convened by the Minister of Education in 2004 in
Pretoria, examined (among other things) the curriculum and course
contents at South African Universities.

Questions are being asked as to the sources and objectives of

curriculum, its determinants, quality assurance and accountability
systems. It has also caused that conference to revisit the purpose of
higher education and to test the notion of a common or shared identity
for a South African higher education ‘brand’. We could interrogate our
attachments to the European coat-tails of intellectual tradition or to
venture into a new and exciting future of rediscovery as an African
society with a rich intellectual and cultural tradition that can form the
fulcrum for interrogating and critiquing all other traditions (Pityana,
2004:6-7).
 THE DRAMA STUDIES CURRICULUM IN SOUTH AFRICA 121

Though South African universities should be commended for

teaching subjects of global relevance in terms of contents, the
emphasis should be on Africa. It does not make economic and
educational sense for an African student to travel to Europe or
America to specialise in African drama, or for a Briton to travel to
Africa to specialise in Shakespearean studies. While we are not
advocating a monopoly of academic programmes, the offering of
African drama courses in African universities should be a priority.
Though subject to debate, drama and theatre may constitute an
arm of cultural studies, and the Department of Education (DoE) in its
National Curriculum Statement is unequivocal in its stand on Arts
and Culture Education (dance, drama, music and the visual arts),
which has, in fact, been introduced at the primary school level. In his
opening address during the Arusha (Tanzania) Seminar on
indigenous African publishing, the then President of the United
Republic of Tanzania, Benjamin William Mkapa, linked education to
culture and the role indigenous publishing could play:

But what is education? Education is basically, and broadly speaking, a

cultural plan by which societies ensure the continuity of societal values,
the acquisition of knowledge about the environment and other societies,
and the systematic instruction given to members of the society in their
different age groups to better prepare them for their survival and
adaptation to their environment, and the performance of their work and
roles in society. This is one of the reasons why publishing should, first
and foremost, be indigenous. That is also why I would like African
publishers to adopt this broader definition of education which
emphasizes the link between education and culture. After all, even in
common language the term ‘cultured person’ is taken to mean one
whose life is improved by education and training, and as Hobbes
pointed out many centuries ago, the education of children is the
culturing of their minds (1997:10).

Though the quoted piece was making a case for indigenous

publishing, we can conveniently substitute this with indigenisation of
the drama syllabus. Drama departments in South Africa should as a
matter of principle integrate African contents into the drama
syllabuses and theatre training of students. Many may contest the
emphasis being placed on the African content model in the South
African drama/theatre programmes. Many may doubt the practi-
cability of the inclusion of African contents in the drama curriculum
of the universities. Some critics believe that traditional African theatre
cannot be categorised as drama, because it does not conform to Western
122 PATRICK EBEWO

criteria of what constitutes ‘real’ theatre. Others echo that “what some
usually and glibly call traditional drama is properly and essentially
elements of drama” (Uka, 1973:28). And referring directly to Eka-
Ekong performance, one of the Consuls in Southern Nigeria (during
colonial times), P.A. Talbot, wrote after watching a traditional Ekong
theatre performance:

Perhaps the surest claim which a Nigerian pagan can make upon the
remembrance of posterity is to found a new cult or invent some new
play (1926:82).

Contrary to the views held by some of these Europeans and their

African counterparts, many accommodating critics and scholars (both
Europeans and Africans) have come to accept that there are indeed
traditional African theatres which are not only theatres in their own
right, but theatres that satisfy Western standards in terms of evaluation.
Contemporary African dramatists, critics, anthropologists and
sociologists have all agreed that any notion of the non-existence of
theatre in Africa is erroneous. There are traditional dramas, according
to J.P. Clark (1981) which are classifiable as drama. We sometimes feel
that the argument is not whether there are theatrical traditions in the
cultural life of Africans or not, but on the modus operandi of such
theatrical concepts. Whatever the mode of operation, Clark has driven
in a nail on the coffin of this argument:

If drama means the elegant imitation of some action significant to a

people, if this means the physical representation or the evocation of one
poetic image or a complex of such images, if the vital elements of such
representation or the evocation are speech, music, ritual, song, as well
as dance and mime, and if as the Japanese say of their Noh theatre, the
aim is to open the ear of the mind of a spectator in a corporate audience
and open his eyes to the beauty of form, then there is drama in plenty in
Africa, much of this as distinctive as any in China, Japan and Europe
(1981:57).

Indeed, theatre and drama flourish throughout Africa. Most of these

presentations are not mere “elements” of the theatrical. We
acknowledge, as Brockett has done, a distinction between the theatre as
a form of art and the incidental use of the theatrical elements in other
activities (1977:3). In South Africa myths, legends, folktales, rituals,
initiation ceremonies and other traditional practices and belief systems
constitute forms of performance distinct from those of the West.
 THE DRAMA STUDIES CURRICULUM IN SOUTH AFRICA 123

THE DRAMA CURRICULUM IN POST-APARTHEID SOUTH

AFRICAN UNIVERSITIES: ANALYSIS AND INTERPRETATION
As mentioned earlier, this paper seeks to evaluate the African contents
in the drama curriculum of five South African Universities: Rhodes,
Pretoria, Free State, Stellenbosch and the Tshwane University of
Technology.
Before the merger of educational institutions in 2004, South
Africa had a total of twenty-one universities with a student
population of 366,000 in 1995 (Grobbelaar and Brink, 1998:1292-
1296). With the creation of recent institutional typologies, 150
Further Education and Training (FET) Colleges have merged into 50.
Colleges of Education and Technikons have been merged in various
combinations. Today, there are twenty-three universities made up of
the traditional, comprehensive and universities of technology. Of the
twenty-three universities, ten offer drama/theatre as academic/
professional discipline. Out of the ten, we have chosen to study five
for reasons mentioned earlier.

1. UNIVERSITY OF THE FREE STATE

The University of the Free State (UFS) was established in 1904; it is
located in Bloemfontein, capital of the Free State Province. While the
Bloemfontein Campus (Main) has about 16,000 students, the
Qwaqwa Campus, which became a satellite campus of the university
in 2003, accommodates approximately 1,500 students. “The UFS is
recognised as a leader in the transformation process in South Africa
higher education – a view endorsed by former President Nelson
Mandela, who has lauded our University for its transformation and
language policies” (University of the Free State, n.d.).
The Drama and Theatre Arts Department is housed in the Faculty
of Arts and it awards diplomas, and confers undergraduate and
postgraduate degrees in drama and theatre. Career prospects include
students being “equipped for a career as senior professional actor;
director; designer; writer; technical theatre consultant for amateur or
professional stage, television, film or community work; director and
actor in industrial theatre projects in the private sector; cultural
worker within the community; radio presenter; voice artist; tutor of
drama and theatre in private studios; school teacher; college lecturer;
and, with further qualifications, a university lecturer” (University of
the Free State, n.d.). The curriculum, which carries a total of 384
credits, is made up of the following courses spread over three years
of study.
124 PATRICK EBEWO

First Year Second Year Third Year

- DTI112 - DNT214 - DSA312 South
Introduction to Technical Theatre: African
Drama and Décor, Props, Theatre:
Theatre as an Art Sound and History and
Form Lighting Theory
- DTC112 Drama - DNF204 Fantasy - DSA332 South
and Theatre and Children’s African
Semiotics Theatre Theatre: Text
- DCK114 History - DNM212 Theatre Analysis
and Text Analyses Make-up - DSA302 South
of the Classic to - DNC212 Theatre African Art
the Costume Management
- Renaissance - DNN202 Theatre - DSA336 South
Periods Practice African Theatre
- DTG114 Theatre - DNN226 - DSV326
Genres, Styles and Neoclassical and Modern Theatre
Acting Techniques Romantic Theatre - DSP302
- DTB102 Mime - DRT224 Realistic Community
and Movement Theatre Service
- DTT122 Learning
Technical Theatre - DSP342
Terminology and Theatre
Practice Criticism
- DTA124 Acting - DSR322 Radio
Techniques Techniques
- DTP102 Basic - DTV324
Speech Theory Television
and Practice
- DTX122 Practical
Theatre
programme:
Planning and
Execution
Table 1: List of courses at University of the Free State

From the list of courses offered in the department, it becomes

evident that students are immersed in the study of both theory and
practical aspects of theatre in the first and second years of their study.
Periods covered include the Classics (Greeks and Romans),
Renaissance, Neoclassical (Italy) and Romanticism. South African
theatre history, theory, text analysis and management are taught only
in the third and final year of the students’ studies. It must be noted
that the South African theatre course (DSA336) is allocated 24
credits – quite heavy and commendable. However, there is no
 THE DRAMA STUDIES CURRICULUM IN SOUTH AFRICA 125

indication of the incorporation of texts and performances from other

parts of the African continent into the curriculum. Inquiries to the
Department also confirmed that inclusion of texts and performances
from other parts of Africa is not yet a priority.

2. UNIVERSITY OF PRETORIA
The University of Pretoria was established in 1908 and is situated in
Pretoria (Gauteng Province), the capital city of South Africa. As part
of its Vision, the University of Pretoria strives to be “The premier
university in South Africa that acknowledges its prominent role in
Africa, is a symbol of national aspiration and hope, reconciliation and
pride, and is committed to discharging its social responsibilities” (see
MacGregor, 2007: 88). The Department of Drama is in the Faculty of
Humanities and is one of the 137 departments in the university.
University of Pretoria (UP) adopts a “transdisciplinary” approach
to the study of theatre, film and performance. To stay ahead and to
deal with the ever-changing nature of both the country and the world,
the Drama Department incorporates collaborative processes where
students pursue the mastery of skills, extend their creative potential
and develop work of high artistic and intellectual calibre. The courses
lead the student to an artistic, creative as well as an analytical and
practical approach to theatre, as well as to directly related fields, such
as film, television, radio, theatre/drama in education, and theatre for
development. At the end of the BA (Drama) degree, students are
expected to be able to:

- create a physicalised/visualised, kineticised and auditory role for

stage, film and radio, drawing on diverse approaches to role;
- describe, demonstrate and evaluate the effective auditory, kinetic
and visual dimensions and demands of theatre;
- describe and evaluate various systems of the transcodification of
the written text to performance text;
- document the history of drama, theatre and film through the ages,
with specific reference to Western and African theatre, drama and
film (emphasis mine);
- demonstrate an introductory understanding and application of
various theories of meaning generation and evaluation for theatrical
and filmic performance and production;
- develop criteria for the creation and evaluation of theatrical, radio
and film performance;
- construct and present an effective oral interpretation programme;
- construct and present an effective radio presentation;
126 PATRICK EBEWO

- create proficient designs for the auditory; kinetic and visual

dimensions of the theatre;
- develop and present an effective methodology for the teaching of
drama and movement;
- construct and present effective theatrical productions, a movement
programme, as well as drama/theatre in education, and theatre for
development programme (University of Pretoria, Department of
Drama, n.d.).

First Year Second Year Third Year

- DFK 110 The - DFK 210 - DFK 310
Languages of Performing Reading Cultural
Drama and Film Violence in the Representation
- DFK 120 Drama Enlightenment - DFK 320
and Film Genres - DFK 220 Realism Counter-
- SBP 100 Voice and the Discourses
and Movement: Construction of - SBP 300 Voice
Praxis 1 Reason and Movement:
- SBT 110 The - SBP 200 Voice Praxis 3
Performer: and Movement: - SBT 310
Embodied and Praxis 2 Emotive Voice in
Envoiced - SBT 210 Performance or
- SBT120 Text, Expression and Advanced Radio
Interpretation Embodiment Work
and Performance - SBT 253 Radio as - SBT 320
- TNP 100 Medium for Anthropology
Theatre Studies: Fiction and the
Praxis 100 - SBT 254 Radio as Construction of
- TNT 110 Medium for Facts Physical
Theatre - TNP 200 Theatre Performances
Technology and Studies: Praxis - TNP 300 Theatre
Constructed 200 Studies: Praxis
Virtual Space - TNT 210 Theatre: 300
- TNT 120 The Edutainment and - TNT 310
Actor: Text to Development or Understanding
Performance Intermediate and
- CIL 111 Design Intervention or
(Computer - TNT 220 Role Advanced
Literacy ), EAG Play and Ritual: Design.
110 (Study), Directing and - TNT 320
EOT 110, 120 Performance Performance Arts
(Language Management and
Proficiency), Cultural Memory
RES 151
(Introduction to
 THE DRAMA STUDIES CURRICULUM IN SOUTH AFRICA 127

Research
Methodology)
Table 2: List of courses at University of Pretoria

Of the 25 listed theatre-specific courses, not a single course focuses

on Africa as a concentration or specialisation. Also, none of the courses
is specifically South African. Rather, the emphases are placed on
“Aristotelian drama theory, Campbell’s notion of the Hero’s Journey
[...] investigations of the socio-political contexts of theatre over a period
of time, from the Greeks to the Middle Ages and beyond, particularly
Shakespeare [...] critical discussions of notions of signification,
phenomenology, psychoanalysis, subjectivity and gendered fictions [...]
and investigation and exploration of Laban’s Movement Studies”
(University of Pretoria, Department of Drama, n.d.). This scenario
seems to run parallel to one of the envisaged principal objectives of the
drama programme, namely the documentation of “the history of drama,
theatre and film through the ages, with specific reference to Western
and African theatre, drama and film.”

3. RHODES UNIVERSITY
Rhodes University was founded in 1904 and it is located in the
historic city of Grahamstown, Eastern Cape. Rhodes University’s
Vision is to be “an outstanding internationally respected academic
institution which proudly affirms its African identity and which is
committed to democratic ideals, academic freedom, rigorous
scholarship, sound moral values and social responsibility” (Rhodes
University (Drama), n.d.).
Rhodes University Drama Department is one of the 35
departments in the university and it offers an integrated approach to
drama studies. “We emphasise the body as expressive medium in
locating and training unique, indigenous performance languages.
Most of our teaching staff are practitioners themselves affording
students an intensive interface between choreography, performance,
theoretical and administrative studies. Our strong undergraduate
programme prepares students for a comprehensive selection of eleven
Honours papers” (Rhodes University (Drama), n.d.).

First Year Second Year Third Year

- 20th Century - Turning Points in The aim of this
Theatre: African European Theatre course is to study
128 PATRICK EBEWO

and Western (Term 1) significant

Influences (Term 1) - The Foundations developments in
- Twentieth Century of Contemporary 20th & 21st century
Performance: The South African theatre. This
Body as Text (Term Theatre (Term 2) contextual study
2) - Studies in focuses on
- Re-defining the Intertextuality contemporary
dramatic ‘text’: (Term 3) approaches to
South African - Intertextuality and theatre performan-
Theatre Praxis South African ces, and utilises
(Term 3) Practitioners historical studies
- Theatre and (Term 4) and developments
constructions of - Communication in related art forms,
history (Term 4) Skills and Vocal play texts, critical
- Communication Performance writings, design and
Skills (Gehring) stage techniques,
- Performance - Physical Theatre and dance theatre.
Studies (Gordon & The course
- Movement Studies Finestone-Praeg) integrates theory
and practice in an
intensive and
extensive manner.
Table 3: List of courses at Rhodes University

Though passionate about Physical Theatre training, unlike other

universities, Rhodes introduces African and South African com-
ponents in its drama curriculum in the first year of the students’
enrolment. In all four terms South African theatre is factored in.
Traditional storytelling as performance is studied. Wole Soyinka’s
Death and the King’s Horseman, though a difficult text for this level,
is a prescribed text used to illustrate how traditional African ritual
can play out in a theatrical setting. Contemporary South African
plays by Gibson Kente, Athol Fugard and Makan are also studied.
Year two concentrates on the foundations of contemporary South
African drama examining such areas as urban theatre of the 1950s
and 1960s, Black Consciousness theatre, Workshop Theatre and
Junction Avenue theatre, as well as Intertextuality. Though other
areas and global authors are taught, the Department makes an
impressive effort to accommodate South African and to a lesser
extent African drama in its programmes. It is unfortunate that in its
Honours Programme the Theatre in Africa (Paper 3) course was not
available to students in 2009. It is reassuring that Dance Research in
South Africa is active. Rhodes University’s determination to
 THE DRAMA STUDIES CURRICULUM IN SOUTH AFRICA 129

transform its drama programme is proactive and indeed “proudly

affirms its African identity.” This is a positive step in the right
direction.

4. STELLENBOSCH UNIVERSITY
This institution was established by an Act of Parliament in 1918 and
is located in Stellenbosch. The University strives to create a con-
ducive environment for excellent scholarship. There are ten Faculties
in the University and the Drama programme is located in the Faculty
of Arts. The university “has also in recent years actively pursued
strategies which foster innovation, culminating in a recent national
award for being the most technologically innovative higher education
institution in South Africa” (MacGregor, 2007:91). Below are cour-
ses offered in the Department of Drama at the undergraduate level.

First Year Second Year Third Year

- Information Skills - Theatre Studies - Theatre Studies
172 212, 222, 242, 252 314, 324, 344,
- Theatre Studies - 212 Textual 354
112, 122, 142, analysis - 314 Textual
152 - 222 Theatre Analysis: Media
- 112 Principles of History: Theory and Film
text study and Forms of - 324 History and
- 122 History of Drama and Theatre Nature of Non-
Western Drama - 242 Textual Western Theatre
and Theatre Analysis: - 344 Textual
- 142 Principles of - 252 Theatre Analysis: Media
text study history: Theory and and Film
- 152 History of Forms of Drama - 354 History and
Western Drama and Theatre Nature of South
and Theatre - Theatre Arts 278 African Theatre
- Theatre Skills 178 - Theatre Skills 278 - Theatre Arts 394
- Theatre Arts 178 - Theatre Practice - Theatre Skills
298 378
- Theatre Arts 389
- Theatre Skills
388
Table 4: List of courses at Stellenbosch University

As clearly shown in the course descriptions, the Department

trains students to become conversant with both the theory and
practice of drama and theatre. Radio, television and film courses are
offered in the Department as well. It is rather surprising that the
130 PATRICK EBEWO

department, unlike what SU is known for, does not engage in the

educational aspect of theatre. From the list of courses, it is obvious
that the Department concentrates on Western drama and theatre. In
fact, the first-year Movement course “is divided into Theatre Skills
178 and Theatre Arts 178. TV178 consists of technique classes that
concentrate on developing the performer’s analysis and awareness of
self. Several techniques of physical training – including applied yoga,
contemporary dance, Alexander and release techniques – are used to
encourage efficiency of physical expression, dynamic range,
muscular flexibility, tone and strength, spatial awareness and co-
ordination.” In the second year Textual Analysis course (212) entails
the thematic study of selected texts, “including South African
materials/works.” In the third year the non-emphasis on African
contents becomes very obvious in that course 324 is entitled: History
and Nature of Non-Western Theatre (implying that the West is the
esteemed choice – the mainstream). This particular course is
designed to deal in part with “A study of the main features of African
theatre with reference to some examples. The second part of the
course deals with features of Eastern theatre. In the series of courses
offered in the department, only 354 – History and Nature of South
African Theatre, intended to “survey the main trends in South
African theatre through the study of texts in contexts”, concentrates
on South Africa per se. The students are introduced to South African
drama proper only in the third year (Stellenbosch University
(Drama), n.d.).

5. TSHWANE UNIVERSITY OF TECHNOLOGY

Tshwane University of Technology (TUT) is a product of the merger
exercise that was carried out by the government in an attempt to
streamline institutions of higher learning in South Africa. TUT was
established on 1 January 2004, with the merging of the former
Technikon Northern Gauteng, Technikon North-West and Technikon
Pretoria. Although still in its infancy as a new university of
technology, it nevertheless has many years of academic history
behind it and about 50,000 students enrol annually. Academically,
TUT is divided into seven faculties spread over eight learning sites.
These faculties offer a wide range of 3-year Diploma and Degree
Programmes for prospective students. The University views itself as
“a progressive institution of higher education, with an
uncompromising mission to contribute positively to the development
 THE DRAMA STUDIES CURRICULUM IN SOUTH AFRICA 131

of the socio-economic landscape of South Africa” (Tshwane

University of Technology n.d.).
The Drama Department is in the Faculty of Arts. Though located
in a young university setting, the Drama Department has experience
of over thirty years of drama training (as Pretoria College of
Advanced Technical Education 1974-1979; as Technikon Pretoria,
1979-2003; and Tshwane University of Technology, 2004 to date).
The Department offers the following courses:

First Year Second Year Third Year

- ATT110T - ATT210T Acting - ATT310T Acting
Acting Techniques II Techniques III
Techniques I - ATT21PT Acting - ATT31PT Acting
- ATT11PT Techniques: Techniques:
Acting Acting II Acting III
Techniques: - ATT21QT Acting - ATT31QT Acting
Acting I Techniques: Techniques:
- ATT11QT Practical Practical
Acting Interpretation of Interpretation of
Techniques: Drama Excerpts II Drama Excerpts III
Practical - ATT21RT Acting - ATT31RT Acting
Interpretation of Techniques: Techniques:
Drama Excerpts Practical Practical
I Interpretation of Interpretation of
- ATT11RT Prose and Poetry II Prose and Poetry
Acting - COQ210T III
Techniques: Communication - COQ310T
Practical Techniques II Communication
Interpretation of - COQ21PT Techniques III
Prose and Poetry Communication - COQ31PT
I Techniques: Communication
- COQ110T Practical Techniques:
Communication Exercises: Speech Movement III
Techniques I Sounds II - COQ31QT
- COQ11PT - COQ21QT Communication
Communication Communication Techniques: Voice
Techniques: Techniques: III
Computer Skills Movement II - PFS310T
I - COQ21RT Performance
- COQ11QT Communication Techniques III
Communication Techniques: Voice - PFS31PT
Techniques: II Performance
Movement I - PFS210T Techniques:
- COQ11RT Performance Applied Directing
Communication Techniques II III
132 PATRICK EBEWO

Techniques: - PFS21PT - PFS31QT

Singing: Performance Performance
Practical I Techniques: Techniques:
- COQ11ST Production II Production III
Communication - PFS21QT - TST310T Theatre
Techniques: Performance Study III
Practical Techniques: Stage - TXS310T Text
Exercises: Craft II Study III
Speech Sounds I - TST210T Theatre - TXS31PT Text
- COQ11TT Study II Study: Oral
Communication - TST21PT Theatre Interpretation III
Techniques: Study: Rudiments - TXS31QT Text
Voice I of Directing II Study: Text
- PFS110T - TST21QT Theatre Analysis III
Performance Study: History: - CTT200T
Techniques I Acting, Theatre, Children’s Theatre
- PFS11PT Drama and II
Performance Costume II - OPT210T
Techniques: - TXS210T Text Educational
Make-Up I Study II Theatre II
- PFS11QT - TXS21PT Text - PRA200B
Performance Study: Oral Teaching Practice
Techniques: Interpretation II II
Production I - TXS21QT Text - SNG220T Singing
- TST110T Study: Text II
Theatre Study I Analysis II - TRD210T Theatre
- TXS110T Text - CTT100T Dance II
Study I Children’s Theatre - WRS200T
- TXS11PT Text I Scriptwriting II
Study: Oral - OPT100T
Interpretation I Educational
- TXS11QT Text Theatre I
Study: Text - PRA100B
Analysis I Teaching Practice
- AAD101C Arts I
Administration I - SNG140T Singing
I
- TRD100T Theatre
Dance I
Table 5: List of courses at Tshwane University of Technology

From the heavily loaded drama syllabus, we can see at a glance that
as a university of technology, the drama programmes’ emphasis is on
practical training of students for the industry. Can this scenario then
exclude incorporation of African materials? Can Acting, for example,
 THE DRAMA STUDIES CURRICULUM IN SOUTH AFRICA 133

be Africanised? In one of my interview sessions on the possibility of

incorporating African materials into practical theatre training, one of
the staff members in the Department argued strongly that Acting
cannot be Africanised. This is, of course, a view that is very
controversial, because we can easily discern the environment from
watching the performance of the players. In this (practical)
performance-oriented department South African plays feature very
infrequently. Devised South African plays and Bachelor of
Technology (BTech) student projects that feature African culture are
featured sparingly. The situation became worse when Audrey Mullin,
a staff member in the Department who was passionate about African
performance, passed away in 2004. I learned that the staff member
was an expert in adapting Western plays to suit the African
environment. In fact, she also adapted Sutherland’s Anowa (a
Ghanaian play) for the South African audience. Annual departmental
productions rarely feature African plays. In fact, one academic staff
member in the Department placed African theatre contents in the
drama programme at 3% – “maybe not up to that”, he added and
another staff member eloquently claimed that “it is not up to that.”
On the whole, Western and Afrikaans plays dominate. The popular
South African plays are Fugard’s Boesman and Lena and People are
Living There, Simon, Ngema and Mtwa’s Woza Albert, and Zakes
Mda’s The Hill. In the theory component of the course offerings
African plays are poorly represented – a few African pieces are
sandwiched in here and there. In the Oral Interpretation course
selected African poetry, fiction, stories and drama sketches are
utilised. In one of the 3rd-year Text Analysis courses a few African
plays have been studied (Wole Soyinka, The Lion and the Jewel).

CONCLUSION
For those familiar with South African history, transformation in
whatever guise was never going to be a walk-over. But with
collective commitment, consolidated sector response, the pursuit and
development of new knowledge, it is a mission possible and can be
achieved successfully. Apartheid South African universities modelled
themselves on the best of the European and American ivy-league
universities and benchmarked their practices based on what obtained
outside the African continent. The new government’s agenda of
change and transformation sees universities as key instruments in this
reform agenda. “The central thesis is that notwithstanding everything
that has gone into the processes of transformation of higher education
134 PATRICK EBEWO

in South Africa … we have to ask ourselves whether a decade into

democracy we are anywhere near a transformed university system”
(Pityana, 2004). Again, we must be careful not to downplay the
positive response in some higher educational institutions towards
transformation.
Evaluation of five former historically white universities in terms
of their drama curriculum review and transformation has revealed
quite a number of strands. While the University of the Free State and
Rhodes University have responded a great deal to the need for a
transformation of the drama curriculum, the University of Pretoria
and Stellenbosch University, though they have incorporated some
African contents, are still far behind. Surveyed cases have proven
that where African/South African components are added, they are
introduced late, in most cases in the third and final year of the
students’ undergraduate career. The non-reflection of some of the
objectives (Africanness) of the universities in the drama curriculum
is a worrying phenomenon. In some of the institutions surveyed, the
flagging of the African content initiative lacks a defined content base
or seems to be a dangling addition in order to avoid being labelled as
non-compliant. A defined body of contents is necessary and should
be covered in a specific sequence within a specified time frame.
Comprehensive knowledge and conceptual gaps exist in the way that
African contents are being handled in the drama curricula because
there is absence of adequate preparation and foundation studies.
While South African contents are fairly represented in the drama
syllabuses, continental African materials are notoriously absent.
While the universities in South Africa are quick to respond to issues
of internationalisation, what also deserves attention are localisation
and forging of links with other SADC countries and countries in
other parts of Africa. Exclusion of other African nations in the study
of drama in South Africa amounts to “artistic xenophobia,” which
might be conditioned by fear of the unfamiliar or insecurity. There is
absolutely nothing wrong in localisation, but it would be more
effective to extend the syllabus to cover a broader African context in
a bid to challenge exceptionalism, indigeneity and belonging – all
fertile grounds for xenophobic practices. The South African drama
syllabuses deserve to be decolonised. According to Balme (1999),
‘decolonisation’ of the stage can be examined through a number of
formal strategies, which involve the combination and amalgamation
of indigenous performance forms within the framework of the
Western notion of theatre. Balme calls the process whereby culturally
 THE DRAMA STUDIES CURRICULUM IN SOUTH AFRICA 135

heterogeneous signs and codes are merged together “theatrical

syncretism” (1999: 1). Some institutions may be hiding under the
cover of praxis to eliminate African contents in the drama syllabuses.
Theatre is not only praxis and the shift towards the perception of
performance as the primary theatrical experience is not only
restrictive but myopic and non-tenable, and excludes drama as an
academic discipline in a university setting where theory and practice
have a symbiotic relationship. Though finished products are the
desired ends in the theatrical event, a solid dramatic text remains the
mainstay of indestructible theatrical experience. Workshopped plays,
devised dramas, agitprop plays and other applied theatre practices
may be innovative and significant in the process of Africanisation,
but they are often ephemeral. In today’s knowledge economy drama
must be seen as a discipline that goes beyond the arts of the theatre –
mime, movement, dance, physical theatre, acting and voice; drama
studies, especially in the form of literature, is a strong weapon of
cultural integration.
A call for the centrality of African cultures and practices in the
drama programmes of South African universities should not be
construed as a call for a shift in the workforce – of blacks replacing
whites. Indeed, Africa owes a huge debt to, and acknowledges the
contributions of, non-blacks to the promotion of African studies. In
the field of African literature and drama, Ruth Finnegan, Ulli Beier,
Michael Etherton, James Gibbs. James Stuart, Chris Dunton, David
Cook, Brian Crow, Eckhard Breitinger, Holger Ehling, to mention
but a few, are household names. And, of course, Emeritus Professor
Bernth Lindfors, who in his retirement bequeathed his personal
library to the University of Natal, is often regarded as the “father” of
African literature.
Some higher education institutions are not merely resisting
transformation. Many are facing challenges of curriculum design in
line with the new dispensation, the demography (student body) of
some departments may not favour a quick switch from the old
Eurocentric to the new model; and many drama departments do not
have competent and qualified academic staff to undertake the
transformation. The challenge therefore lies with the government and
other relevant structures to provide the much needed resources to
effectively aid the transformation process of the drama curriculum.
136 PATRICK EBEWO

REFERENCES
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Programs/nepad.htm
Balme, Christopher B. 1999. Decolonizing the Stage: Theatrical Syncretism
and Post-Colonial Drama. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Botha, M. M. 2007. Africanising the Curriculum: An Exploratory Study.
South African Journal of Higher Education, 21(2):202-216.
Brockett, Oscar. 1977. History of the Theatre. 3rd Edition. Boston: Allyn and
Bacon.
Clark, J.P. 1981. Aspects of Nigerian Drama. Drama and Theatre in
Nigeria. Lagos: Nigeria Magazine Publication, 57-74.
Cloete, N, Muller, J, Makgoba, M. W. and Ekong, D (Eds). Knowledge,
Identity and Curriculum Transformation in Africa. Cape Town:
Maskew Miller Longman.
Coetzee, S. A. 1999. ’n Blik op die Afrikanisering van Universiteite. South
African Journal of Education, 19(2): 130-139
DoE (Department of Education). 1997. Education White Paper 3: A
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Pretoria: Ministry of Education.
Ekong, D. and Cloete, N. 1997. Curriculum Response to a Changing
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Longman.
Geber, B. A. and Newman, S. P. 1980. Soweto’s Children: The
Development of Attitudes. London: Academic Press.
Gray, Eve & Associates. 2005. A Terminal Case … Perished, not Perishing:
The Malaise in Humanities Publishing in South Africa. A paper
presented to the Faculty of Humanities Workshop at the University of
Cape Town.
http://www.evegray.c.za/downloads/webcopyTerminal_case.ppt#256
Accessed: 29/4/2009.
Grobbelaar, J. W. and Brink, J. A. 1998. The Universities in South Africa.
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Grove’s Dictionaries.
Horrell, M. 1968. Bantu Education. Johannesburg: South African Institute
of Race Relations.
 THE DRAMA STUDIES CURRICULUM IN SOUTH AFRICA 137

Ilorah, Richard. 2006. The Dilemma of the Historically Black Universities

in South Africa. South African Journal of Higher Education, 20(3):
442-460.
Lategan, Laetus O. K. and Lues, Liezel (Eds). 2005. Doing Research: A
General Overview of the Research Processes. Danhof: Tekskor Books.
MacGregor, Karen (Ed.). 2007. Study South Africa: The Guide to South
African Higher Education (7th Edition). Pretoria: IEASA.
Mazonde, Isaac N. n.d. Culture and Education in the Development of Africa.
http://unpan1.un.org/intradoc/groups/public/documents/idep/unpan0033
47.pdf. Accessed 7/6/2009.
Mkapa, Benjamin William. 1997. The Cultural Context of Publishing in
Africa. Development Dialogue: A Journal of International Development
Cooperation. 1(2): 7-14.
Muller, Johan. 2003. Higher Education, Curriculum Differentiation and
Social Justice in the Further Education and Training Certificate
(General and the Draft National Curriculum Statement.
CHET/SAUVCA Seminar, Unisa Sunnyside Campus, Pretoria.
Mzila, V. 2004. Africanisation of South African Tertiary Institutions.
http://www.teachafrica.net.
Mzila, Vuyisile and Lalendle, Luvuyo Lumkile. 2006. Transforming
Teaching and Learning Practice: Africanising Knowledge. Journal of
Educational Studies, 5(1):16-24.
Pityana, N. Barney. 2004. Higher Education in South Africa: Future
Perspectives. Keynote Address. Bill Venter/Altron Literary Awards
2003. Westcliff Hotel, Johannesburg. (http://www/unisa.ac.za/contents/
about/ principle/doc.
Rhodes University (Drama) n.d.: http://www.ru.ac.za/drama/courses/
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Schwandt, T. A. 2004. The Centrality of Practice to Evaluation. American
Journal of Evaluation, 26(1):95-105.
Stellenbosch University (Drama) n.d.: http://academic.sun.ac.za/drama/
English/Drama.htm. Accessed 7/7/2009.
Talbot, P.A. 1926. Life in Southern Nigeria. London: Oxford University
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138 PATRICK EBEWO

Tshwane University of Technology n.d.: www.tut.ac.za. Accessed

8/6/2009.
Uka, Kalu. 1973. Drama in Nigerian Society. The Muse. 5(11): 13-15, 36-
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php?FCode=H1&DCode=HD1 Accessed 6/7/2009.
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_______. 1997. How Can a Theory-Based Evaluation Make Greater
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CHAPTER 5

THE TALL TALE OF TALL HORSE: THE ILLUSION

(OR MANIFESTATION) OF AFRICAN CULTURAL
AND TRADITIONAL AESTHETICS IN HYBRID
PERFORMANCES

PETRUS DU PREEZ

INTRODUCTION
Post-colonial. Post-apartheid. Post-industrial. Post-modern. Post-
structural. Post-millennium. All these ‘posts’ indicates something in
the past – where we no longer are. Unfortunately they do not give a
clear indication of where we are. We know where we no longer are,
but we do not know where we are now or are meant to be. One could
ask who are the ‘we’ that I am referring to; do I mean we as in
Africa, Africans, the creators of African theatres and performances?
Or am I speaking of the researchers who study African theatres and
performances? These are questions that often arise in the theoretical
approaches to theatre and performance studies in Africa.
The attempt to regain, rebuild or create an identity is, of course,
particularly evident in cultural expressions such as performances or
theatres and much has already been said about the terminology
surrounding literature, performance, drama and theatre in the
postcolonial African context (Okagbue, 2007; Newell, 2006; Appiah,
1992). The results of these discussions are clear: the nature of
African theatre and performance (and various other art forms) in the
21st century is fundamentally rooted in the concept of hybridity. The
contact with, and influences of, mass media forms such as television,
films, radio and the internet underline this view.
Furthermore, the theatres and performances created in Africa
function in a multicultural environment. South Africa, with its eleven
official languages, different races and strong colonial influences (not
even to mention the legacy of apartheid) provides a prime example of
140 PETRUS DU PREEZ

multiculturalism compelling intercultural exchange in the theatre.

Not even in the performances of a specific group of speakers of a
language (such as Afrikaans) can one refer to a homogenous group or
traditions any longer. This is a situation that we find across Africa, as
Hauptfleisch (1997: 69) notes:

…the tendency towards integrating elements of different traditions

occurs throughout Africa and is often referred to as syncretism in
critical writing, while I have referred to it as hybridism in this
publication. It is a natural and almost inevitable aspect of the kind of
multicultural and multilingual society we have in South Africa.

The combinations of different traditions, forms, audiences and

practices can take on so many shapes and manifestations that the
African element can disappear, or become so exotic that the
audiences for whom these performances are created become
uncertain. Are we creating these performances for Africans? Who is
the audience? Where are they? And do they understand what we are
trying to do? The ‘we’ here includes African audiences and even the
critics of the forms, but above all the creators of theatre, dramas and
performances.
Of primary importance are the frames or contexts in which these
performances are created and take place. With reference to these
frames or contexts, I use the terms liminal and liminoid spaces1 of
performance. In combination with these spaces, the intention in the
creation of the performances becomes important. It is often this intent
on the side of the creators that determines the frame or context of the
performance. This does not imply that the audience members
necessarily recognize the intent, frame or context.

GOING BACK TO THE BASICS: LIMINAL FORMS OF

CULTURAL EXPRESSION
For the sake of clarity, I would like to give a short description of
what I imply by the terms the liminal and liminoid spaces.2 In a
hybrid approach to the creation of performances, the differentiation
between liminal and liminoid is not necessarily understood by the
audience (or is it even important for them?), especially where the
distinction between the two spaces cannot be understood or identified
by audience members outside of the cultural frame within which the
performances take place.
Liminality, as Turner (1974, 1982) discusses the concept, is
derived from Arnold van Gennep’s study on initiation rituals, which
 THE TALL TALE OF TALL HORSE 141

divides the process of initiation into the phases of separation,

transition and incorporation. The concept of liminal and liminoid
spaces is important in the study of performance. These concepts
describe processes that take place in performance, as well as
processes that instigate performances, as well as results of
performances. Schechner (1985, 1988) identified various
characteristics of performance. In all these works it becomes clear
that performance stands outside of the daily activities of a
community. This points to the liminal nature of performance, since
the very definition of liminal activities states that these activities
function on the edge of society, or outside the social structures of a
community.
The limen is a threshold, a place and time of transition, a phase
between two periods or situations where the time or situation is not
specific. Turner (1974:231) states that the limen has the potential to
be rich in rituals, metaphors, play and the belief in non-social
structures.
The concept of the sacred (and therefore elements of ritual) is
linked with the liminality of performance, but Turner (1988:25)
emphasizes that the space for experimentation and loose structure is
associated with solemnity and rules. The effects of the asocial and
the systems through which it is portrayed are also important for the
community. An example would be the Egungun masquerade in
Nigeria.3 The liminal can therefore also hold some danger:

Liminality is usually a scared condition protected against secularity by

taboos and in turn prevented by them from disrupting secular order,
since liminality is a movement between fixed points and is essentially
ambiguous, unsettled, and unsettling (Turner, 1974:173-174).

The limen does indicate a holy time-space, but it can also include
play-like activities, like those of a carnival. Many of the activities
are linked to specific cultures, especially where symbols are used.
The symbols may have many different layers of meanings, because
the representations that we find in liminal performances do not
function as mimetic representations. They are often based on fantasy,
myths and/or magic.4 Here we are moving towards the liminoid
forms of performance.
142 PETRUS DU PREEZ

CHANGING FRAMES: CULTURAL GENRES AND THE

DEVELOPMENT OF LIMINOID FORMS
Performances that take place in liminoid situations function in a
different way outside of the ordinary life of the community than do
liminal performances. Turner (1982:34) mentions that the difference
between ‘work’ and ‘play’ cannot always be clearly identified in
ritual, myth or even legal processes. The serious and the playful mix.5
These types of performances – even in rituals – are classified as
liminoid activities. The performance aspect of these types of
activities comes from the ‘serious’ belief and religious structures that
can be classified as ‘work’ or ‘serious’ action. They form part of a
series of prescribed actions. Liminoid actions always function outside
the work situation. They also function outside of the religious sphere.
They are pure entertainment. This implies that it can become difficult
to distinguish between liminal and liminoid performances. Turner
(1982) states that both these types of performances are types of
cultural pluralism and that the action or event’s function in the
particular culture will determine whether the performance are
classified as liminal or liminoid performances.
In Africa we find situations where performances originated as
liminal performance, but became liminoid performances. Examples
of such performances are cultural or traditional dances that are
performed for tourists. Where these performances in the community
might have religious or other functions, they lose these functions
since they are performed as entertainment for tourists. In extreme
cases the function of the performance changes, but also the action of
the performance. Such types of performances are linked with hybrid
performances.
The description ‘hybrid’ performances has various sets of
connotations linked to the term. Hybridity can refer to the
combination of styles, frames, cultures, languages and the distortion
of the performer-audience dichotomy. In the particular cases that we
have mentioned so far, the hybrid quality of the performances refers
to the combination of liminal and liminoid frames. In hybrid
performances the liminal frame has disappeared, since the ‘serious’
nature of the performance is no longer present. The performance can
also not be described as a pure liminoid performance, since it is not
performed purely for pleasure or entertainment. Jurkowski (2000:22)
saw hybrid performance systems, especially where masks and
puppets are used, as a phase of development in the evolution of
performance forms from religious rituals to secular performance:
 THE TALL TALE OF TALL HORSE 143

In spite of the continued presence of ritual puppets and their use in the
magic activities in Africa, the process of transmission from the
primitive, sacred puppets to the theatrical puppets, which serve to
entertain participants of the village holidays, came about. Entertaining
productions did not immediately find the unified, fictional dramatic
structure. They are compositions of many episodes, presenting topical
scenes, animals, and also mythic figures such as Une Meven with
caiman head, Fanro or the master of water, and the divinity Yankadi or
double face and four breasts.6 … We can guess that here is an example
of the transition stage from ritual puppets to theatrical puppets with
cognitive and amusement functions.

The Bin Sogo Bo of Mali can be used as an example of these types of

performances. With the Bin Sogo Bo there is no pure ritual or
religious outcome. The mythical or religious characters can still be
found in the performance. Chi Wara is an example of the connection
of the performance with the traditional religious systems of the
Bamana. This character was the first farmer on earth and the
mythological animal that taught humans to work the land. The animal
disappeared into the earth when it saw that the humans have learnt to
farm, but then they became lazy and they squandered food. The
dance was originally performed to call forth the bird at the beginning
of the rainy season after the soil has been prepared and the seeds
have been sown. The belief in the story no longer exists and the
execution of the dance is no longer performed as an effective ritual.
It is now a secular dance, although the contact with, and the
connotations of, the original belief system still prevail.7 The change
of frames from liminal to liminoid performance is not the only
difference that constitutes hybrid performances.
In the case of Tall Horse we have a situation where the
performance can be seen as a hybrid production where styles, frames,
cultures, languages and performative objects combine into one
situation.

TALL HORSE: THE LONG AND THE SHORT OF THE STORY

The production of Tall Horse (2004) has been much debated and
discussed. Various writings on the production have been published,
such as those by Millar (2006), Du Preez (2007) and Hutchison
(2010). The intercultural collaboration between the various artists
involved in the production is a rich field for research and that is why,
so many years after the original production, it is still worth talking
about. The production was hailed as an intercultural experience and
144 PETRUS DU PREEZ

it was these intercultural aspects of the production which became the

focus of many of the discussions of the production. The various
influences from across the world, but especially those from Mali,
tinted the production with an air of the exotic (Malan, 2005:6).
A brief summary of the play would assist further discussion of
the production and the various frames in which it functions. The play
text includes several narrative lines. There are two periods during
which the actions are played out: the here and now, and the first part
of the nineteenth century.
A young researcher from Paris, Jean-Michel, visits the museum
in Bamako in Mali to find out more about one of his ancestor, Atir,
who came from Africa to Paris in 1826. He inadvertently drinks a
concoction made of ground mummy parts, which transports him back
in time to the nineteenth century. Here the politics of the time come
into play for the first time.

Drovetti: (…) We’re going to the palace on a matter of some urgency –

war. It seems Greece has fallen to the Christians. The Turkish Sultan is
furious, which puts our pasha in a posizione precaria with France
(Burns in Millar, 2006:245).

Mehmet Ali, acting on a suggestion from the slave, Atir, decides that
a giraffe must be sent to the king of France, George X, to convince
him not to get involved in the politics of Greece’s struggle for
independence. The rest of the story shows how Atir caught the giraffe
and accompanied the animal on its long journey from the Savannah
to Paris. The first hesitant relationship between Atir and Sogo Jan8
develops during the journey where Sogo Jan “made a servant of the
one who captured you. That’s not the way of things, you know”
(Burns in Millar, 2006:249). Atir wants to return to Mali, but
unfortunately he is forced into accompanying Sogo Jan to France.
He is not interested in the politics of the Mediterranean. He wants to
return home, from where he was stolen:

Atir: You stick your nose in war that is none of your business, and now
because of you I must go to France. When we arrive in Marseilles, I am
telling you, that’s it, I am done with you. This is out of the way for me,
you know. This is not the way to Mali (Burns in Millar, 2006:252).

In Act II the giraffe has arrived on European soil. In Marseilles Sogo

Jan winters in the stables of Count Grandeville de Largemont, Prefect
of Marseilles, and his wife, Clothilde. The scientist, St-Hilaire, is
 THE TALL TALE OF TALL HORSE 145

responsible for the wellbeing of the giraffe on its way to Paris. The
animal as curiosity (since the giraffe is neither predator or prey) and
the curiosity of the black man (his exotic features) travelling with the
animal are etched clearly in the scene of the giraffe’s debut.

Count: Dames et Messieurs, I present to you, Le Beau Enfant

d’Afrique.
The giraffe enters slowly led by Atir.
Guest 1: How strange!
Guest 2: It’s so big!
St-Hilaire: In all my years of scientific endeavour I have never seen a
more graceful creature. Camelopardis reticulate artiodactyla giraffidae.
Truly a marvel of nature.
Guest 3: What lovely eyes.
Guest 1: And such long beautiful legs.
Guest 3: It’s so big! Its neck is so long and … erect.
Count: That, St-Hilaire, is Atir, the animal’s handler.
All female guests: Oui.
St-Hilaire: She responds readily to his attentions.
All female guests: Oui (Burns in Millar, 2006:256-257).

It is clear that the humour in this sequence is based on the idea

that what is African is exotic for the European – both the animal and
the person. At what or who is it that the audience gawks? The animal
or the man? Furthermore, the international politics, the instigator of
the dramatic narrative, suddenly becomes side-lined in the quest to
get the giraffe to the French capital alive. The personal and
interpersonal narratives become the new focus. The intercultural
contact is also illustrated in the sequence that follows, where Atir and
Clothilde attempt to communicate in English, French, Arabic and
Bamana. Shortly after that the international politics and scheming on
a grand scale between individuals and rulers are illustrated in the
exchange and destruction of letters – dictating or ignoring the
contents. The giraffe and Atir once again become the pieces on the
chessboard of international politics (Burns in Millar, 2006:268).
The interplay between the international and the personal is shown
in the scene where Clothilde and Atir meet again. The clumsy contact
between the two continues. This time Clothilde brings Atir French
146 PETRUS DU PREEZ

clothing so that he does not have to greet the King in his African
attire. During this scene Clothilde and Atir make love, but:

After making love, Clothilde dresses Atir in the coat of a French dandy.
Clothilde coaxes Atir to dance for her. He is a good dancer, but his
African rhytms and her song don’t connect. He soon realizes that she
has left him there alone. He picks up his old clothes and exits (Burns in
Millar, 2006:267).

The cultural interplay in the personal aspects of the characters’

lives is evident. Atir is slowly but surely losing contact with his home
– his roots. He is assimilating the exotic, European lifestyle. He will,
unfortunately, remain the exotic for the European. Atir is reminded of
this in Lyon, where a

well-dressed, blind, black man with a doctor’s bag stops to address

Atir.
Doctor: Taamala, segui i ko! You are on the wrong road. Look at you.
Turn yourself around, black man, before it is too late (Burns in Millar,
2006:269).

Unfortunately Atir can’t turn back. This blind man is the only
one in Europe who knows Atir’s real name (Taamala). Atir is forever
changed by his relationship with Sogo Jan, but also forever changed
as a result of his contact with exotic Europe. He continues on his
path, since his fate is intertwined with that of Sogo Jan. We hear that
he cannot return home, since his home in Africa was destroyed.
Finally, they arrive in Paris where a pregnant Clothilde is waiting,
but she links up with Drovetti (to start her own cabinet de curiosités
where she ‘collects’ exotic men). By this time France has entered in
Mediterranean politics and assisted Greece in its fight for
independence. The play ends where Atir stays with Sogo Jan and we
are transported back to the museum in Bamako. Jean-Michel has
found what he was looking for.
The story of how the production came into being has been well
documented (Hutchison, 2010; Du Preez, 2007; Miller, 2006).
Hutchison focuses on the intercultural theatre practices of the
performance. She highlights the interplay between the African as
exotic and the European, also seen as the exotic by the character of
Atir. Social, political and cultural power games with the multiple
gazes found in the play are also illustrated:
 THE TALL TALE OF TALL HORSE 147

The more sophisticated scientists, Dr. Konate and St-Hilaire, approach

both their own cultures and the one they are encountering ironically. It
is important that the two actors each play both a European and an
African character, because this creates a balance of perspectives
whereby each representation is both constructed and simultaneously
critiqued, and we are left with neither an overwhelming sense of naivety
nor sophistication for either culture (Hutchison, 2010:66).

Addressing the postcolonial, post-industrial and postmodern gazes in

the text of the play is not the focus of this chapter. What I am
attempting to illustrate is that the African view of other Africans (or
other cultures in Africa) also creates a situation where the broader
concept of “the African” is exoticized by Africans themselves. This
is the result of: 1) intercultural contact in the creation of intercultural
performances, which can result in the shifting of frames of the
“traditional” cultural elements (i.e. liminal performances that become
liminoid performances); and 2) the exoticizing of Africa by Africans
for the sake of a Eurocentric (or Westernized, sometimes Non-
African) audience. Africa along with the idea of African performative
culture has become a commodity. In order to illustrate this hypothesis
the different performative traditions that functioned as home-
narrative or frameworks and foundations and points of departure for
intercultural spectacle will be discussed:

This starting point was important, because, as Erica Fischer-Lichte and

colleagues have argued, successful intercultural exchange begins with
the known, the local perspective, rather than that of an exotic Other
(Hutchison, 2010:63).9

The intercultural contact between various traditions of puppetry and

performance might complicate this view. There are various
similarities between the different performance practitioners. The first
and obvious similarity between the practitioners is the use of puppets,
masks and other performative objects in their respective productions,
irrespective of the liminal or liminoid frames within which these
productions might take place. If we look at the puppet traditions (or
uses) that appear in the production of Tall Horse, neither of the
‘traditions’ (that of Handspring and Sogolon) are ‘untouched’
traditions. Yaya Coulibaly (puppeteer from the Bamana tradition of
Mali) received training in Europe in puppetry, and the South African-
based Handspring Puppet Company has long been fascinated with the
puppets of the Bamana. The various traditions are not so strange to
148 PETRUS DU PREEZ

each other, but still some differences in the approach to the creation
of a work could be seen.
My own experience with intercultural productions has shown me
that, once you are confronted with the ‘strange’ or the other, you
grasp at the familiar. Even when you are working with traditions or
cultures you are familiar with, but they are still not your own, you
can experience discomfort and uncertainty. This does not imply that
you shy away from the strange or unfamiliar aspects. Eventually, if
you are immersing yourself in the experience, the self or the known
can become the exotic other for yourself. The result is a confusion of
identity and it could be that you exoticize what is your own. Perhaps
this was not the case with the co-production in Tall Horse where
traditions, although known to each other, had to work together in one
set-up. Knowing about something is different from experiencing
something, where the exchanges between the experienced and the
new experiences and contacts create something new in form and
frame.
The first ‘tradition’ that I want to discuss is the modern, eclectic
performance framework of the Handspring Puppet Company. I
should shy away from using “traditional” in this context, because if I
had to describe a distinctive feature to characterise Handspring’s
work as a tradition, it would be to emphasise the lack of a tradition in
the conservative sense of the word.10 South Africa has no pre-
colonial puppetry tradition (Kruger, 2008: 25). It is only from the
1930s and 1940s that signs of a developing tradition in puppetry
emerge in South Africa. Today South African puppetry has a
dynamic character, with the major characteristic of the tradition being
the inclusion of various influences, aesthetics and diversity in the
expressive form (Schwenke, 1984:96).
The second tradition relevant here is the puppetry tradition of the
Sogolon Troupe from Mali. They work in the tradition of Bamana
puppetry. The third tradition is the dance tradition from West Africa
(specifically the ritual dances) and especially from Benin. Although
this last tradition is not as prominent in the production (since the
dances of the production did not resemble dances from Benin), it is
important because of the context in which the traditional dances are
created and performed. The applicable tradition refers to the creation
of dance rather than to the appearance of the dance.

BREAKING THE MOULD: HANDSPRING PUPPET COMPANY

AND THE AESTHETIC OF THE PUPPET IN SOUTH AFRICA
 THE TALL TALE OF TALL HORSE 149

Handspring Puppet Company is one of the best-known puppet

companies in South Africa. They have become world famous with
their collaborations with artist William Kentridge in their productions
such as Woyzeck on the Highveld (1992), Faustus in Africa! (1994),
Ubu and the Truth Commission (1998) and Confessions of Zeno
(2002/2003). Adrian Kohler and Basil Jones are the founding
members and driving forces of the Company.
Handspring’s work does not function in a specific cultural
puppetry tradition. Their productions, puppets and designs as well as
manipulation techniques are eclectic combinations of various styles
and traditions, without having to abide by the strict rules of the
various traditions that they borrow from to develop their own style
for the particular production. Their earlier work for adult audiences is
characterized by their use of marionettes that point to a very strong
Eurocentric puppetry tradition from Central and Eastern Europe.
Episodes of an Easter Rising (1985) is an example of this Eurocentric
approach to puppetry. Even in this production they played around
with the conventions of marionette theatre in the sense that the
puppet manipulators were visible for the audience. Kohler (in Spring,
2004) describes the effect of the visible manipulators on the
audience:

We, for the first time, took our manipulators out in front of the audience
and had them walking next to the puppet that they were operating. And
a strange thing happened which was completely unintentional on our
part, but the audience said these big people dressed in black, standing
next to these little people dressed… who were the actors in the story,
the big people felt that they were like something like guardian angels of
the characters. They took on a meaning.11

It is not necessarily the case that the visible manipulators take on sets
of meanings. In this production they started to experiment with the
possible uses of the visible manipulator. This production also proved
that puppet theatre could be effective, successful and aesthetically
pleasing for an adult audience.12 Handspring has become famous not
just for the work they have done with marionettes, but also for the
productions that use rod puppets, for which they have become better
known.13 These puppets function in a similar way to the Japanese
Bunraku puppets. In the Bunraku tradition the manipulators are also
visible to the audience, but only the main puppeteer’s face is visible
to the audience, whilst the other manipulators wear masks.14 In the
Handspring productions all the manipulators’ faces are visible and
150 PETRUS DU PREEZ

sometimes (as was the case with Tall Horse) the manipulators did not
even wear black clothing. From these examples it is clear that
Handspring uses other puppetry traditions and adapts them to their
own circumstances, without feeling the need to adhere strictly to the
cultural aesthetic rules.
The primary focus of the audience should be the object that is
manipulated. The puppet is designed and manipulated according to
the function that it has in the production. Very often the manipulation
mechanisms are not hidden from the audience, i.e. the inner
mechanisms of the puppets that the manipulators use to give an
illusion of life in the puppet. There is no attempt to give a naturalistic
representation of the characters. With this disregard for mimetic
representation, the performance objects have the potential to accrue
symbolic value.15
The manipulation, construction and design of the puppets can
take various forms. The context of the production determines the
nature of these elements. Sometimes only selected elements from
traditions are used. In such cases a work can be described as
multicultural in its approach to the aesthetic employed in the
productions. With the production of Tall Horse these multicultural
elements were emphasized. The adoption of ‘traditional’ elements or
‘cultural piracy’ functions in the same way as intertextuality
functions in the creation of a play text, because the original context
and the traditional elements are not present. Often the only reference
to the original tradition is the appearance of the puppets as in the
production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream where the puppets
resembled the Bamana puppets, but were not manipulated as such
and functioned outside of the original context of the Bamana puppets.
Other examples are where the manipulation techniques of the puppets
(as in the production of Faustus in Africa) is used. In this example
the puppets are based on the manipulation techniques of the Bunraku
puppets of Japan. The frames of meanings and references of the
original performances and traditions will not be penetrated in these
cases. The connotative value of the original performance systems and
cultures become superficial references, where the intricacies of the
original, referenced culture are ignored, i.e. selective cultural cut and
paste. The puppets for the 1988 production of A Midsummer Night’s
Dream are examples of visual and traditional intertexts:

Africa became the obvious choice. In those utopian days we opted for
an idyllic future, where African democracies would prevail in the end.
For the design of the fairies we borrowed from all over the continent.
 THE TALL TALE OF TALL HORSE 151

Benin, Egypt and the Makonde masks of Mozambique informed our

designs, and for the main images of Oberon and Titania it was to the
Bambara puppets of Mali that we turned for a second time. (…) For
Oberon, a Dogon carved staff of an extremely stylized horse head with
curved zigzag mane was the inspiration (Kohler in Taylor, 2009:53).

The freedom that Handspring’s work illustrates derives from the lack
of a puppetry performance tradition in South Africa. There is no strict
traditional aesthetic that the puppeteers have to adhere to. Therefore
they can design, manipulate and play with puppets for an audience
that does not have any particular aesthetic expectations. This is not
necessarily the case with Bamana puppetry and the Bin Sogo Bo of
the Sogolon Troupe from Mali, the other collaborators in the
production of Tall Horse.
Handspring’s performances take place within a very specific
framework of liminoid productions. The work, whether it is created
for children or adult audiences, functions in a liminoid space. In other
words, the productions function as entertainment in the social
framework. Iconographic representations do not occur in their
productions, since the performances are not presented or performed
in liminal spaces, so there are no religious or ritual elements
associated with the performances or the objects (the puppets) used in
the production.16

SOGOLON TROUPE AND THE MIXTURE OF PERFORMANCE

FORMS, TRADITIONS AND CONTEMPORARY VISIONS
The Sogolon Troupe from Mali is a company that performs with
masks and puppets. They perform traditional styles of performance
(with liminal connotations) as well as contemporary productions (that
function in a liminoid space). Mali, with specific reference to the
Bamana group, has a long history of puppetry and mask
performances. At the head of the troupe is Yaya Coulibly. He is a
seventh-generation puppeteer from the Bamana tribe. He started the
troupe in 1980 as a vehicle to perform not only the traditional mask
and puppet performances, but also to broaden the type of productions
to include more contemporary aspects that are not restricted by the
traditional and cultural expectations of what masks and puppets
should perform. This work outside the traditional frame encompasses
educational and developmental productions for the community.
Although the traditional methods of expression are not always
adhered to in the contemporary productions of the Sogolon Troupe,
this does not imply that the traditional elements are nowhere to be
152 PETRUS DU PREEZ

found in these performances. Coulibaly combines well-known

characters from the traditional puppetry oeuvre with contemporary
forms of expression. He also uses characters from the broader
mythology that would not necessarily be found in the puppetry or
mask performances. There is then already an established familiarity
with the characters for the audience. Coulibaly can do this
successfully because of the presence of a very old, stable, traditional,
cultural aesthetic for puppets in his community. Handspring, in
contrast, cannot do this, since there are no (or very few) figures,
characters or myths that can function as archetypes for all the
different groups in South Africa.
A figure that has close ties to the mythological world of the
Bamana, but has various manifestations in the cultural forms (and is
not just restricted to puppetry and masquerades) is the hyena. The
character is used in traditional as well as newer performance forms.
This figure is called Sorugu Kun in Bamana. The symbolic
connotations of the characters are that he has knowledge of the night
and the day. Because of the dual nature of his knowledge, he is also
associated with the occult and magical powers. There are four
different hyena characters in the Bin Sogo Bo. Kruger (2006:328)
shows that three of these hyena characters are connected with the
protection of the Bamana tradition. They are Nama Koro, Suruku
Nama and Jado Nama. The forth character of the masquerade is
linked with more comic aspects. He is the shameless hyena, Suruku
Malobali. These characters must not be confused with the characters
found in the initiation rituals of the Bamana, because in the rituals the
characters function as icons in a liminal space, especially where spirit
possession is found. The other characters function in liminoid
performances. During the initiation rituals each neophyte receives his
fetish animal. The Hyena is Coulibaly’s fetish animal and Donald
(2004:31) adds: “The spirit of regulation, the Hyena, regrets the
progress of Islam and fights against the invasion of political and
religious systems”.
In an interview Coulibaly (2004) indicates that the hyena is one
of the most powerful fetish animals because of its connections with
the supernatural world. Traditionally in Bamana performance the
hyena would be a masked performer. The mask is decorated with
dots. Donald (2004:27) describes these dots as a sign of the mask’s
power of divination. Spirits inspire the number of dots on the mask.
The dots are painted on the mask when it is made; they are then
counted and the number is interpreted.
 THE TALL TALE OF TALL HORSE 153

The fetish animals of the traditional Bamana performances have

various functions. The fetish animals will only appear late in the
evening of the performance. They are used to protect neophytes
during initiation, but also to teach the community the cosmic
concepts of wisdom and the history of the community. Coulibaly
(2004) states:

It depends on the message of the animal. It gives consolidation to the

society, to keep unity of the society so that they can live together. It
reminds us that we are individuals in a society, but we have limits. We
must consider the group. The puppets remind us of order.

Coulibaly argues that the puppets of Mali are used to portray and
enforce the cultural identity of the country and its people. According
to oral transmission and referring to the mythology and belief
systems, puppet performances originated when people and animals
still lived together and spoke to one another. After they separated, the
images of the animals were used in performances in order to show
the humans their mistakes. The puppet manipulator therefore
becomes a cultural worker who regulates the social order of the
community. He helps to regain a balance between tradition and
development.
The puppets are used to indicate the different stages of the
initiation processes involved in a rite-of-passage. The initiation
processes point to the spiritual and traditional levels that the
individual can achieve in a society. The puppets used in the
traditional performances of the Bamana mirror the philosophical
world view by pointing to the cycles of birth, growth, initiation and
communication with the spirit world. Several of the puppets and
masks represent ancestral spirits and, because the godly figure for the
Bamana is a woman, the feminine is honoured in this way. These
aspects form an integral part of the Bamana performance’s aesthetic
and it determines the appearance of the puppets and masks and
enforces the liminal space of the performance.
Coulibaly indicates that the puppets are used for direct
communication, since the mediums of communication between
people cannot be so direct because of social conventions. The
puppets and the mask are also laden with different connotative and
symbolic meanings. These symbolic meanings are very strong in the
case of the puppets and masks that are used for ritual performances.
This does not imply that the puppets and masks of the youth
organizations17 do not have symbolic meanings. Each puppet and
154 PETRUS DU PREEZ

mask has a specific colour, worth, music and dance movement in the
performance and all these aspects function as sign systems that
communicate messages to an audience (Coulibaly, 2004).
In response to the question on how the masks and puppets
receive their power (their supernatural power and their power in the
community), Coulibaly (2004) states that rituals are performed where
animals are sacrificed in honour of the masks and puppets.
Sometimes spirits can possess the masks without sacrifices.
Coulibaly (in Millar, 2006:171) explains what happens when spirits
depart from the masks. In this comment he was speaking of the
process of hollowing out the puppets for the production of Tall
Horse, even though this production had no ritual or supernatural
connections with the traditional performances:

The only change we’ve made is to hollow them out. (…) at home we
don’t do that. That’s interesting. I’ve hollowed out lots of these
puppets, but it’s interesting to see this little problem that this poses in
use: when the puppet takes lots of knocks, we have to make time for a
lot of repairs. Normally at home, when a puppet is used in a show, it
must not break. When a puppet breaks in a show, it’s because the
spirits are without… the ancestors are angry with us. That’s important.
But it’s not rigid. The puppets for this, we’ve been given the freedom,
we don’t have this constraint… It’s a collaboration.

He expands on the aspects of the puppets that are damaged in the

Bamana tradition: “Did you know … that in Malian society, if a
puppet is damaged and cannot be restored, it is entitled to a proper
funeral” (in Rutter, 2004:39). As a further illustration of the
importance of the puppet and mask in the Bamana community,
Coulibaly (in Rutter, 2004:38) says that a whole series of rituals have
to be performed before the puppet can be made. Prayers are said to
the god of creation to receive permission to cut down trees for the
puppet. Millar (2006:39) describes the rituals and sacrifices:

For the puppets to fulfil their ritual function properly in society,

it must be seen that they are created with a suitable ritual of their
own. It is this that makes them potent, not anything inherent in
their design. Yaya describes in detail how an offering – twenty
cola nuts and a cockerel of a specific colour depending on the
year – is made to the tree before it is cut down, and this invocation
is made:
Spirit of the tree, I wish to offer to you this [buck, goat or cock].
 THE TALL TALE OF TALL HORSE 155

Permit me to cut the wood and to bring out all of its potential,
To find what is inside. Forgive me, because it is not mine to take.
You are the creator of the wood. I wish to carve the wood.

Once the puppet has been carved, it will be dressed in full costume
and paraded through the streets to introduce to puppet to the
community (Rutter, 2004:39). This indicates how Coulibaly saw the
type of collaboration in the sense that he does not allocate any
specific cultural meaning to the objects. The traditional and cultural
frame has been removed, or it does not function in the strict patterns
that it can enforce.
It is clear that a distinction is made between puppets and masks
that are used in rituals and similar performances (liminal
performances), and masks and puppets that are used for
entertainment purposes (liminoid performances). It is remarkable that
Coulibaly does not focus on the manipulators of these objects. This
indicates the power of the figure, even outside of the performance
context. When Coulibaly does refer to the manipulators, he argues
that the performers simultaneously function in two different worlds,
namely the world of the here and now, and the world of spirits that
cannot be seen by humans. This does not imply that the performer or
manipulator is not important. Asch (2005:25) quotes Coulibaly’s
account of the function or role of the manipulator in the traditional
Bamana performance:

The puppeteer stands between life and death and protects and interprets
the occult. The role is part teacher, part priest, part therapist and doctor;
and the puppeteer officiates at initiations and important passages.

Although the supernatural connection between the performer and the

object is sometimes emphasized in the original cultural frame, even
in liminoid performances, it would be incorrect to assume that all
puppet performances of the Bamana have religious functions. The
performances can be very ritualistic, but they are not necessarily
rituals.18
The puppet and the mask are also an integral aspect of popular
theatre. The youth organizations are responsible for these perfor-
mances, with entertainment being one of their main functions. This is
evident if you look at the comical and satirical nature of such
performances. With these performances the strict restrictions on who
156 PETRUS DU PREEZ

may attend the performances do not apply and they do not have to
follow the strict traditional prescriptions.

This form allows for anyone to perform and it is in this category that
accommodates performances completely unrelated to initiation and
religion. It is also where invention and development of new techniques
takes place. An example of this in [Yaya Coulibaly’s] work would be
his experiments and performances with string puppets (Donald,
2004:11).

Tradition is not completely ignored in these forms. The

traditional expressive forms (the aesthetic) and symbology can still
be found in these contexts. Tall Horse can be seen as a popular
performance form. A discussion on Tall Horse will have to take this
frame and context into account. The masks and the puppets of the
popular style of performance will function as mediums of repre-
sentation, even if religious aspects can be found on the surface of the
performance. Whether the performance takes place in a liminal or
liminoid context, movement is a core factor in animating the per-
formance objects. The type of movement that we find is often dance.
The choreographer for Tall Horse, Koffi Kôkô, comes from Benin.
He is also an animistic priest and this influences his approach to the
creation of dance and movement – elements that determine the
reception of the production.

DANCE AND MOVEMENT FROM BENIN AND THE USES IN

RITUAL AND THEATRE
Traditional masks and puppets from African performances are often
viewed as objects of art, but this ignores their performance contexts.
When dance or other performance systems such as rituals are
discussed, Laude (in Huet, 1978:12) points out that the underlying
assumptions are not always correct:

The colonial texts present these dances as spontaneous and purely

instinctive manifestations of these bamboula. It cannot be emphasized
enough that this is completely untrue. The dances and ceremonies …
are by no means the simple expression of collective energy, as was once
so thoughtlessly believed. On the contrary, they are strictly regulated
according to criteria which, while differing from those which govern
Western choreography, are no less precise and imperative.

He adds that dances (with or without masks and puppets) are

performed at specific times of the year on specific situations. These
 THE TALL TALE OF TALL HORSE 157

dances have specific outcomes that must be achieved with the

execution of these dances.
Dance is found right across Africa and Laude (in Huet, 1978:12)
argues that dance can be seen as an integral characteristic of African
culture. The dance forms of the different cultures on the continent
differ from one another, but dance as an expressive form plays an
important role in the wider cultural mediums of expression. Works
written on dance in Africa focus on the choreography of the different
forms of dance, as well as the music and instruments used as
accompaniment for the dance. These studies were often conducted
from a Western perspective (Laude in Huet, 1978:13). This can be
problematic if Africa is the focus of the study. Laude (in Huet,
1978:13) explains:

When we study African dance we have to forget completely the sort of

dichotomy that is familiar to Western thought: the opposites of secular
and religious, profane and sacred. Such opposites can only exist in a
dualist structure. In our present state of knowledge, we have no reason
to suppose that there is any such element in the sub-Saharan cultures.

Although strong ritualistic aspects can be found in African dance

forms, this does not imply that all dance forms in Africa have
religious aims. This can be seen in the Bin Sogo Bo masquerades of
the Bamana where you do find purely secular performances where
dance forms an integral part of the performances. Although the dance
is a secular form, the same structures as the religious dances of the
Komo are followed.19 It becomes impossible to state with conviction
that all dance forms are combinations of secular and religious
contexts. I agree that in some cases the two contexts are combined (in
hybrid performances) such as in the semi-religious or the traditional
dance forms that Donald (2004) discusses.
Just because dances are performed at specific times of the year
and they are socially regulated does not imply that they function in a
religious context. The use of performance objects (such as puppets
and masks) supports this view. The function of performance objects
is to emphasize the contexts of the dances of the performance. The
iconic uses of the puppet or masks cannot be found in secular
performances. Similarities in dance forms or performance structures
cannot be a sufficient reason to argue why there cannot be a
difference between religious and secular dance forms. The framing of
performance as liminal or liminoid is enforced once again, although I
do admit that the frames are not always very clear. This can be seen
158 PETRUS DU PREEZ

in the extensive classifications of dance in Africa as described by

Dagan (1990, 1997:90-93).
In Benin there are different dance forms where the ritual and
religious events are combined. Each religious group has its own
dance form to honour their gods. Other forms also exist and they
have many similarities with forms found in Nigeria, such as the
Egungun and the Ogun (Dagan, 1997:197-203). In many of these
examples spirit possession occurs. In these cases (where the use of
puppets and masks is found) the masks and performers function as
icons during the performance because the performers are absent, but
the god/spirit/entity that possesses the performer becomes present.
Not all dances in Benin make use of spirit possession or iconic
manifestations. Still, Dagan (1997:197) confirms the religious
context in all traditional dance forms in Benin. The dances therefore
take place in a liminal space-time. It is from this context that Kofi
Kôkô creates his dances. In a workshop that Kôkô gave at the Drama
Department, Stellenbosch University (20 August 2004), he
mentioned that all his work is created from a religious context. This
can be seen in the work that he did with the dances and the
manipulators in Tall Horse. The tradition within which Kôkô works
does not always use the iconic functions of the mask or the dancer,
but the religious context heightens the symbolic or metaphysical
frame of reference for the actions performed. This can be seen in the
methods according to which the dances are created and the internal
processes that Kôkô uses in the creation of his dances. This fusion of
the frames of action that occurs in the spaces highlights the hybrid
nature of Tall Horse as a production. The issue here is that the
religious frame for the creation of the dance does not continue into
the performance space. The dances and movement element found in
Tall Horse cannot be classified as religious or ritual dances, although
ritualistic elements were present in the dances.

TALL HORSE AND THE HYBRID ELEMENTS

One of the obvious differences between Tall Horse and traditional
performances is the fact that Tall Horse made use of a written text as
the basis of the production. Most traditional performances in Africa,
especially where masks and puppets are used, do not have a written
text and as such the performance texts is usually transmitted orally.
Often the transmission of these texts takes place during initiation
periods, or other life-cycle ceremonies (such as the Bin Sogo Bo).
The text of this performance in comparison to the text of cultural
 THE TALL TALE OF TALL HORSE 159

performances functions in a different frame. The authentic text of a

play operates as a cultural identification mechanisms. Coming from a
predominantly European approach to puppetry, an American author
and a South African director, it is no surprise that the written text was
privileged in the creation of the play. The multicultural approach to
the play suspended individual cultural approaches. References to
cultural text are made instead of placing the frame in its entirety on
stage. The cultural frame is reduced, since the complete and intricate
nature of the culture in its entirety is too complex for the new space.
Tall Horse is an exceptional example because of the combination
of different traditions and performance forms in one production.
Because of the use of different traditions in the production, not one of
the traditions functions in its original context. The production can
therefore be classified as, amongst other things, a hybrid performance
because the different traditions and contexts are found in a new
context and situation. The original meanings of the different
traditions in their original contexts have now been supplanted by
different meanings.
Kephra Burns, the American author, was the text writer for the
production.20 The published text differs considerably from the
original text that the performers started with in their workshop. The
originals (or first drafts) were very long texts and they had several
problems. For puppet theatre in particular, this wordy text was
problematic.21 The nature of the mask and the puppet means that a
story can be told by means of visual elements such as movement and
design. Spoken dialogue is not essential in puppetry productions. In
cases where too much dialogue is written (as in the soirée scene), the
puppet is ‘weakened’, since the puppet functions better as an object
that moves. Movement is the basic element of puppetry that creates
the primary illusion of life on stage and hence spoken dialogue can
often work against this principle, as it does not strengthen the illusion
that a puppet is alive. Furthermore, the puppets in Mali originally
functioned without dialogue. Although this production makes use of
cultural and aesthetic references to the puppets of the Bamana, in
their original cultural context the puppets would have been developed
with no dialogue and functioned accordingly, but with music that
accompanied the dance of the puppet.
The ‘wordy’ scenes in Tall Horse were used as moments of
political or cultural commentary – much more complex narrative
structures than the Malian puppets (or any puppet for that matter) can
support. The sub-narratives illustrating the motives and movements
160 PETRUS DU PREEZ

of the political elements detract from the main story of the

relationship between Atir (the Sudanese slave) and the giraffe, Sogo
Jan. This is also an example where disproportionate elements
between the cultural forms in the production become prevalent. The
Malian puppets had to speak, and although the antelope puppets of
the Sogolon Troupe were used for the hunting scene and other scenes
where dancing was the main medium of communication, the possible
uses of these puppets were stretched. Even though the puppets
function in liminoid performances in Mali, this particular type of
liminoid performance was not necessarily suitable for the puppets.
This makes it clear that not all liminoid spaces are equal. The
dominant culture (in this case implying the Eurocentric approach to
the Malian puppet) becomes the ‘master’ in such a set-up where
various cultures and traditions intermingle.
Not only is there a power relationship between cultures, but the
producers and creators of the show have to keep the audience in
mind. If the list of venues where Tall Horse was performed is
scrutinized, it is clear that the primary audiences were not African.
On the African continent the show was performed only in South
Africa and in the theatres where the show was performed, the
audiences are African in the sense that they are from Africa, but the
theatrical traditions or cultural frames and conventions of these
audiences are predominantly and inherently European.
The plans to perform in Mali did not come to fruition (Kohler in
Taylor, 2009). The rest of the performances were directed at
European and American audiences. I think that if Malian audiences
were taken into consideration, the production would not have looked
the same. South African audiences are very Eurocentric in their
approaches to the theatre22 and adult audiences in South Africa are
not so aware of the African puppetry traditions in the rest of the
continent. The lack of an indigenous, pre-colonial puppetry tradition
for the South African audiences implies that the changing of frames
from liminal to liminoid did not come into play.23 They are not aware
of the original context of the Malian puppets and masks. The average
South African, American and European audience member will judge
the production from their Western perspectives.
The representation of the Bamana puppetry tradition in the
production of Tall Horse suspended the traditional use of time and
character as well. Many of the characters of the Bin Sogo Bo (which
takes place for a few days a year and has prescribed sets of characters
that have to appear in the performances) have been left out of the
 THE TALL TALE OF TALL HORSE 161

production. Some characters were combined with other characters on

stage, something that would never happen in the traditional
performance set-up. The traditional context, meanings, symbols and
contexts of the puppetry tradition have been invalidated. For the sake
of the new production the puppets have been reduced to aesthetic
objects, much like the masks stuck against a wall in a museum. This
can be seen with the hyena characters in the play. These characters
were reduced to mere dog-like creature, as part of a joke in the text,
and as visual curiosities. They had no regal quality or connection
with the supernatural world, even thought they were made according
to the Malian aesthetic of the hyena:

Marie-Therese: They smell like the rabble.

The hyenas growl.
Dogs! Don’t look at me!
The hyenas growl again.
King Charles X: They’re hyenas, Dear.
Marie-Therese: Train them! Oh! Mon Dieu! Animal excrement!
(Burns in Millar, 2006:244).

Coulibaly was very aware of this, so he was not opposed to the

changes and different contexts that were used for the performance.
The rules or conventions of the original performance styles were not
fitting for the new hybrid performance. The same situation arose with
the Queen puppet. In the reworking of the play the conventions that
the queen must always be riding an animal was broken (Millar,
2006:224)
With the dances that were created for the production, the
original, traditional contexts and conventions were not necessarily
suspended. Koffi Kôkô, creating his dances from an animistic
tradition and religious belief system, attempts to keep the
supernatural aspects in his dances. In an interview (Kôkô, 2004) he
states:

I come from Benin … I come from ritual dance. Ritual dance is to learn
how to dance for the gods, how to learn to dance for the divinity, how
to give the dance for some gods, how to receive the dance from some
god [sic]. The relation between the dance from inside, to give for the
other one, the dance from inside to make dance [sic]. Human beings
are puppets. I try to find the other of relation. The spectator [is the]
third person. Always when I dance I think about the gods. Sometimes
162 PETRUS DU PREEZ

also I do other things to give dance for the people for the nature, for
peace for the connecting.24

This approach to the dance elements of the production did not

take the changes of liminal to liminoid aspects into consideration.
This becomes evident when the way the dances were created is taken
into account. Furthermore, the dances appeared strange and
unsuitable in the production, with distinct clashes of style. (Many of
the dances were eventually cut or shortened in later runs of the play).
The strictly liminal approach to the dances made attempts to change
the choreography a time-consuming and ineffective exercise in the
grander scale of the narrative of the production. Through the dance
the puppets and masks were applied as ritual objects, instead of
liminoid, performative objects that had to communicate a story.
They were not to function as ritual objects that had to perform and
effective change in the community.
Where objects in a performance, and particularly in a ritual
performance, are required to function as icons, this purely narrative
function is not possible in liminoid performances. The objects have
to function simply as mediums. Kôkô ignored these aspects, just as
he ignored differences between puppet, dancer and actor-
manipulator. The aesthetic of the dance did not correlate with the
aesthetic of the rest of the production. The dances became laborious
(even tedious), since they did not function effectively as narrative
elements.
Liminoid forms convey the sense that anything can happen – that
anything is possible. Liminoid forms as rituals that are in conflict
with social structures (in this case, the structures of conventions or
rules of a particular type of performance) are forms where
spontaneity is accepted and allowed. The structures are not as strict
as the structures in religious or social rituals (Alexander, 1991:106).
Kôkô was very aware of the fact that he was choreographing dances
for liminoid performances. The dances were supposed to communi-
cate a narrative to an audience and they were not supposed to create a
link between the visible and the invisible world. He could not free
himself from the rules and conventions of the liminal frame.
The process of dance creation that Kôkô followed might be
effective in pure dance productions. The performers have to spend
long periods of time on introspection in order to become empty
vessels through which the gods and spirits can animate the
performers’ body through dance. This method links with the liminal
spaces of ritual and religion, but in the hybridized context of Tall
 THE TALL TALE OF TALL HORSE 163

Horse, it was not effective. Eventually, with the various cuts to the
production to shape it to the expectations of the Western (and/or
Westernized) audiences, many of the dance sequences were removed
completely, or shortened considerably.
I do not want to imply that religious rituals (or effective
performances) cannot be found in liminoid productions. When it is
the case that the two frames combine, the one frame has to ‘stand
back’ for the other frame. This, I think, is the approach that
Westernized audiences expect. Possible misinterpretations might
occur and the aim of the performance, whether it is for effectiveness
in the sense of stimulating change (such as in a ritual) or pure
entertainment, becomes obscured.
Conclusions that an audience can draw about the actions and the
effects of the causal relationships between the action and the result
might be wrong. Still, in postmodern theatrical forms changes and
shifts do occur and the precise fields of reference of the rituals that
are placed in other contexts, even though they are presented and
executed as powerful and effective are not necessarily “intended”.
The intentions of the performer and the aims of the performance or
the interpretation of the audience might not correlate. Where
performers of a ritual in its original contexts can be seen as an
authority figure, this is not the case where liminal and liminoid
performance spaces combine.

A SHORT END TO THE TALL HORSE

This combination (intentionally or unintentionally) of liminal and
liminoid frames makes Tall Horse a hybrid production. In the later
reworked performances of the play, the liminal frames became less
prominent and eventually disappeared with the reduction of the
dances to a bare minimum. The production is also a hybrid
performance where various cultural forms are combined. The
Bamana can be seen as one of the source cultures for Tall Horse.
This culture has structures of cultural and artistic modelling that are
evident in the performance. With a Western author, director and
producers, the Western perspective became the dominant perspective.
This perspective determines the theatrical form, the nature of the
theatrical representation, and it implies a change of the traditional
culture and artistic models that were retrieved from the source
cultures. The traditional performance systems undergo a new cultural
modelling process to be suitable for the target culture in a particular
set-up.25
164 PETRUS DU PREEZ

During the time when this production was created the African
renaissance was the buzz concept in the arts and politics.
Collaboration between the puppetry traditions from Mali and
Handspring’s own carving style seems like a way to demonstrate the
spirit of discovery of the performance system that was the central
idea and concept behind the production:

The show will tell the story from an African perspective, using
traditional Malian puppets, combined with Handspring’s own carving
style, to represent an African view of the French aristocrats who fawn
over their living curios (Millar, 2006:12).

The exotic image of the other that was usually applied to Africa was
supposedly turned on its head for this production. After the
‘liberation’ of Africa from the clutches of colonial rule, the continent
can, with pride, practice our own performance styles. Africans are no
longer suppressed and African images and perspectives are just as
important as those of the powers that marginalized them in the past.
Tall Horse can be seen as a collaboration that gave voice to this spirit
of Africa. In the search for the culturally distinctive and through the
creation of new forms some elements of the culturally distinctive can
also disappears. This becomes clear if we look at the way that the
Bamana puppetry tradition was handled in the production. The
experiments with new forms and the challenges of intercultural
performance cannot evade some influence from previous systems.
Tall Horse was not necessarily a glorification of African performance
forms, because too much allowance had to be made in the creation of
the production to make it work for a Western audience. I would have
liked to see the young tradition of Handspring not being the
predominant culture in the production, since their tradition harks
back to European forms of puppetry. The Malian tradition, with its
clear focus on liminal and liminoid forms, and above all their
symbolic, aesthetic manifestations, seems much richer and (dare I
say) more African to have been allowed to play second fiddle.
The traditional, with a hint of the ‘authentic’, becomes the focus
of source material for productions displaying the unique or the exotic
for eager audiences. The source material, as in the post-structuralist
approach to intertextuality, is culturally performative aesthetic
traditions and forms often removed from their original contexts (even
moving from liminal to liminoid spaces – e.g. Brett Bailey’s work).
Africa and African then become a fallacious constructs, devised by
Africans for audiences that want to lap up bogus ethnicity.
 THE TALL TALE OF TALL HORSE 165

The process of othering that took place was not necessarily a

situation whereby Europe became othered by Africans, as Miller
suggests above. The traditional aesthetic of the performance objects
such as the mask and the puppets has changed. In the case of Tall
Horse and the development of the production for a predominantly
Western audience meant that Africans othered themselves, making
themselves the exotic. But that, in essence, is also the nature of
collaboration, combination and hybrid performance.
In the movement forward, in the search for the new, or through
the attempts to rediscover the old forms, the practitioners of theatre
and performance on the continent must also become aware of the
aspects that we are cutting loose, that we marginalize or that we are
leaving behind. Hybrid theatre forms, where the liminal and the
liminoid frames intermingle, or cultural hybridity in the intercultural
experiments, are perhaps a way that we as theatre makers also try to
take stock, to find out where we are in all the “posts” that describe
our civilization. In search of the identity (or the characteristics) of
African theatre and performance, hybridity in all its forms seems to
be a recurring aspect that frames discussions on the activities of
theatres and performances.

NOTES

1 These spaces do not necessarily refer to the physical spaces of

performance although, the terms do not ignore the potential that
physical space can also function as a liminal realm. The terms are
borrowed from anthropological discussions on performance.
Victor Turner (1974, 1982, 1988) and Richard Schechner (1985,
1988) expanded on these terms to include elements of communitas
and various other elements. An in-depth discussion of these
elements and terms is not necessary for the purposes of this
chapter.
2 Often, especially in hybrid performances, the two spaces can be
combined.
3 “Egungun masquerades are elaborate ensembles of cloth and other
media that pay homage to forces affecting the living. …In its
broadest sense, egungun … refers to any masquerade or masked
figure. At the basis of this definition is the belief in the presence of
some supernatural force. …What seems more important, however,
is that both gods and ancestors are regarded as ara orun, ‘beings
from beyond,’ whose power and presence can be invoked by the
166 PETRUS DU PREEZ

living. These are some of the concepts embodied in the term

egungun, supernatural power concealed” (Drewal, 1978:18).
4 The combination of the known and the unknown can result in
grotesque forms of representation and symbolic performances
(Turner, 1982:27).
5 Rituals that are performed by a shaman (or any other manipulator
of the supernatural aspects of a belief system), who functions as a
representative of a larger community. These are serious actions
and are taken seriously by the performers and the audience
members. In these cases the shaman functions as a medium or an
icon (Du Preez, 2007:184). These types of performances would
be seen as liminal performances.
6 These examples of Jurkowski come from Mali, Senegal and Benin
respectively.
7 Schechner (1988:120) and Ashley and Holloman (1982:68) refer to
various other differences between liminal and liminoid
performances. The lack of space here makes a fuller discussion
impossible.
8 Sogo means animal or horse and Jan means tall. The Bin Sogo Bo
(the traditional puppetry forms of the Bamana in Mali) can be
translated as “the grass animals come out”. This is a direct
reference to the grass costumes used in the puppetry and mask
forms of the dances.
9 Unfortunately, post-structural vocabulary has become the
framework for discussing these issues. I think that this vocabulary
enforces the dichotomy of master/slave, leader/follower and it does
not have the necessary nuances to illustrate the intricate dynamics
of power relations in cultural expressive forms. This is
unfortunately not the place to critique or explore the intricacies (or
lack thereof) of post-structural terminology.
10 For more on the function and changing nature of traditions, see
Shils (1981).
11 This is a direct transcription of the comments from the television
programme.
12 Until then puppetry for adult audiences in South Africa was very
rare. The overwhelming success of Easter Rising gave the
company the confidence to pursue adult puppetry productions for
South African audiences.
13 For more on the different styles of puppetry and puppets in general,
see Baird (1965), Batchelder (1947), Beaumont (1958) and
Latshaw (1978).
14 In the 1990 production of Starbriters! the puppeteers were also
masked. See the images in Taylor (2009:68).
 THE TALL TALE OF TALL HORSE 167

15 This can be seen in the production of Ubu and the Truth

Commission. The character, Niles, is a crocodile. His body was
made of a suitcase. Ubu feeds the crocodile evidence of his guilt
and human rights violations. The function of the puppet is
therefore not to represent a crocodile, but it becomes a visual
metaphor for an important concept in the production (Taylor,
1998:33-36).
16 In an iconographic use of puppets and masks in liminal
performances, these objects do not merely represent an entity.
They are the entities. Examples of the iconographic uses of
puppets and masks can be found in religious rituals, where spirit
possession takes place during the performance. Once a spirit takes
hold of the performer, the performer moves beyond the act of
performance in the sense that they ARE, instead of being a
representation. The distinction that I make between the iconic uses
of the puppets and the puppets as a medium indicates, amongst
other things, the type of performance that we are dealing with, i.e. a
liminal or liminoid performance.
17 The youth organizations, known as the Kamelen ton, are
responsible for the performance of the Bin Sogo Bo. For more
detail on the types of puppets and the performance structures found
in the Bin Sogo Bo, see Arnoldi (1983, 1995).
18 For more on the various contexts of the Bamana rituals and
religious rituals and other liminal performances, see Donald (2004)
and Arnoldi (1983, 1995).
19 For more on the religious Komo initiation masks, see Joubert
(1990) and Macnaughton (1988). These masks are used, amongst
other reasons, to fight destructive elements in the community.
20 The complete performance text of Tall Horse has been published in
Millar (2006).
21 It was only much later in the production that Marthinus Basson, the
director of the performance, shortened the play to 1.5 hours – a
performance without a break. The shortened version of the text has
been published. The play’s development and the narrative of the
creative process has been documented by Millar (2006).
22 This assumption is not based on race. Although the patrons of
South African theatres are more demographically diverse than 20
years ago, the approach to theatre, the fact that the productions took
place in theatre buildings and even the reception and the way the
audience reacts are Westernized.
23 I recall an incident in the Baxter theatre in Cape Town (August
2003) with a production of Brett Bailey’s iMumbo Jumbo during
which a live chicken was killed on stage. Some of the performers
in the productions were sangomas (or traditional healers in South
168 PETRUS DU PREEZ

Africa). The sangomas were performing a ritual on stage, but for

them to make the ritual ‘real’, they had to kill the chicken. The
Westernized theatre audience were not expecting a ritual that was
supposed to be ‘effective’ or ‘real’. They were thinking that they
were looking at a liminoid performance, but the moment the
performers killed the chicken, the frame of the performance
changed from liminoid to liminal. For more details, see Du Preez
(2007:120).
24 This is a direct transcription of the interview. Kôkô speaks fluent
French but his English is limited.
25 The issues surrounding the intercultural aspects of Tall Horse can
be analysed with the help of Pavis’s (1992:4) hourglass model.
Hutchison (2010) also covers the issues of cultural interchange in
more detail.

REFERENCES
Alexander, B. 1991. Victor Turner Revisited. Ritual as Social Change.
Atlanta, Georgia: Scholars Press.
Appiah, K.A. 1992. In my Father’s House. Africa in the Philosophy of
Culture. New York, Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Arnoldi, M.J. 1983. Puppet theatre in the Segu region in Mali. Published
doctoral thesis. Bloomington and Indianapolis: University of Indiana.
________. 1995. Playing with Time. Art and Performance in Central Mali.
Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press.
Asch, L. 2005. The Giraffe that Conquered Paris. American Theatre: Vol.
22. May-June: 64-65.
Ashley,W and Holloman, R. 1982. From ritual to theatre in Kerala. The
Drama Review. 26(2): 59-72.
Baird, B. 1965. The Art of the Puppet. New York: Macmillan.
Batchelder, M. 1947. The Puppet Theatre Handbook. New York and
London: Faber & Faber.
Beaumont, C. 1958. Puppets and Puppetry. London and New York: The
Studio Publications.
Burns, K. 2006. Tall Horse. In Millar, M. Journey of the Tall Horse – a
Story of African Theatre. London: Oberon Books.
Coulibaly, Y. 2004. An interview conducted with the author.
 THE TALL TALE OF TALL HORSE 169

Dagan, E.A. 1990. Emotions in Motion. Theatrical puppets and Masks from
Black Africa. La Magie de l’Imaginaire. Marionnettes et masques
théâtraux d’Afrique Noire. Montreal: Galerie Amrad African Arts.
________. (Ed.) . 1997. The Spirit’s Dance in Africa. Westmount: Galerie
Amrad African Arts Publication.
Donald, J. 2004. Patrimony. Cape Town: Anglogold Ashanti.
Drewal, H.J. 1978. The Arts of Egungun among Yoruba peoples. African
Arts. 11(3): 18-20.
Du Preez, P. 2007. Ikoon en medium: die toneelpop, masker en akteur-
manipuleerder in Afrika-performance. Unpublished DPhil dissertation,
University of Stellenbosch, Stellenbosch, South Africa.
Hauptfleisch, T. 1997. Theatre And Society: Reflections in a Fractured
Mirror. Pretoria: J.L. van Schaik.
Huet, M. 1978. The Dance, Art and Ritual of Africa. London: Collings St
James’s Place.
Hutchison, Y. 2010. The “Dark Continent” Goes North: An Exploration of
Intercultural Theatre Practice through Handspring and Sogolon Puppet
Companies’ production of Tall Horse. Theatre Journal. 62(1): 57-73.
Joubert, J. 1990. Bamana puppets contextualised; global and local
perspectives. Unpublished Honours in History of Art Dissertation.
University of Cape Town, Cape Town, South Africa.
Jurkowski, H. 2000. Among Deities, Priests and Shamans (Puppets within
ritual). The Puppetry Yearbook. 4: 5-50.
Kruger, M.S. 2006. The Power of Double Vision. New Theatre Quarterly.
XXII( Part 4): 324-335.
________. 2008. Puppets in Educational Entertainment in South Africa:
Comments on a Number of Long-Term Projects. South African Theatre
Journal. 22: 25-43.
Latshaw, G. 1978. The Complete Book of Puppetry. Mineola and New York:
Dover Publications, Inc.
MacNaughton, P.R. 1988. The Mande Blacksmiths: Knowledge, Power, and
Art in West Africa. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Malan, M. 2005. Akteur se wil moet buig voor marionette s’n. Tall Horse
reis ver ná Kaap-besoek. Die Burger. 25 April: 6.
Millar, M. 2006. Journey of the Tall Horse – a Story of African Theatre.
London: Oberon Books.
Newell, S. 2006. West African Literatures. Ways of Reading. Oxford:
Oxford University Press.
170 PETRUS DU PREEZ

Okagbue, O. 2007. African Theatres and Performances. London and New

York: Routledge.
Pavis, P. 1992. Theatre at the crossroads of culture. London and New York:
Routledge.
Rutter, K. 2004. Not just child’s play. Cape etc. April/May: 34-39.
Schechner, R. 1985. Between Theater and anthropology. Philadelphia:
University of Pennsylvania Press.
________. 1988. Performance Theory. New York & London: Routledge.
Schwenke, A. 1984. Die Geskiedenis van Poppeteater in Suid-Afrika. 1800–
1984. Unpublished Honours research project. University of Pretoria,
Pretoria, South Africa.
Shils, E. 1981. Tradition. London, Boston: Faber & Faber.
Spring, J. 2004. Our Nation in colour – Sticks and Strings. Television
programme on SABC2 – Broadcast 30 December 2004. Directed by
Jemima Spring. Produced by Simon Damast.
Taylor, J. 1998. Ubu and the Truth Commission. Cape Town: University of
Cape Town Press.
Taylor, J. (Ed.). 2009. Handspring Puppet Company. Johannesburg: David
Krut Publishing.
Turner, V. 1974. Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors. Ithaca: Cornell University
Press.
________. 1982. From Ritual to Theatre. The Human Seriousness of Play.
New York City: Performing Arts Journal publication.
________. 1988. The Anthropology of Performance. New York City:
Performing Arts Journal Publication.
CHAPTER 6

FROM TRANCE DANCE TO PaR: THEATRE AND

PERFORMANCE STUDIES IN SOUTH AFRICA1

TEMPLE HAUPTFLEISCH

INTRODUCTION
Theatre in Southern Africa has an immensely long history (the oldest
known performances are the oral narratives and shamanistic dances
among the San), but as there are no written records and precious few
visual records from those early times, it really only becomes possible
to conduct scholarly research from the time of European settlement
and the earliest written records of theatrical performance and cultural
life in the colonies.2 Moreover, while ideas of theatre research and
performance studies in South Africa – as we tend to define them
today – are really creations of the 20th century,3 they also have
substantial roots in socio-cultural processes which date back to the
mid-19th century. Notable were the amateur and professional theatre
and the advent of the professional critic (1880-1947), the rise of
Afrikaner and African intellectualism and cultural nationalism (1880-
1948) and the establishment of a Western education and university
system (1829-1916),4 reinforced later by the introduction of drama
and theatre studies at nine universities (1942-1975).
These processes, while originating in some innovative work in
the first half of the 20th century and actually only coming to true
fruition during the late 1970s, would pass through a number of
significant phases, or tipping points (to use Malcolm Gradwell’s
terminology) en route.5 These were periods when a critical mass of
significant factors were present in the society sufficient to shift, alter,
enhance, supplant or otherwise affect cultural and/or academic
paradigms. Below we consider five such moments in the history of
academic theatre and performance studies in South Africa.
172 TEMPLE HAUPTFLEISCH

PHASE ONE: THE LITERARY LEGACY AND THE EMER-

GENCE OF ACADEMIC TRAINING IN THEATRE 1925-1935
The years preceding 1925 had been dominated by the trauma of the
Boer war, the founding of the Union and the devastating Great War.
In addition, the seeds were sown for a number of bitter short- and
long-term problems, notably the issue of Afrikaner identity and
nationality, and complex matter of the rights of the ignored black
majority.
In the theatre developments came rapidly. Besides the established
traditions of amateur English, Dutch and Afrikaans theatre, and a
flourishing English urban theatre, we see a significant thrust towards
professional Afrikaans theatre as well.6 The first Afrikaans
companies took to the road in 1925, coinciding with the emergence
of a generation of more serious and accomplished playwrights, who
sought to emulate the European theatre and actually set the tone and
style of Afrikaans theatre for the next three decades or more. By
1935 there would be more than 40 Afrikaans and English companies
on the road, criss-crossing the country, playing rural towns as well as
major cities.
In this context we become particularly aware of two strains in
theatre reviewing and criticism that would dominate a large part of
the mid-century: the pragmatic, journalistic writing in English
newspapers, on the one hand, and the international, often more
erudite writing by better educated cultural figures in Afrikaans
newspapers and cultural journals, on the other. Unlike their English-
speaking counterparts, who did not come from an intellectual
tradition (few had a tertiary education until the 1970s), a number of
the Dutch (and later Afrikaans) critics were university-trained
individuals who had gone to Holland and Germany to study
philology, philosophy or literature. They tended to have a European
view of theatre and the arts, and adopted a far more intellectual
approach to their craft. In addition, as part of the growing Afrikaans
cultural movement, they desired not only to make art and write about
it, but to study and chronicle their development and thus create a
cultural identity for the Afrikaner.
Three significant publication events from this time stand out as
harbingers of formal theatre research in South Africa. P.W. Laidler’s
anecdotal 1926 book, Annals of the Cape Stage, was not an
enormously detailed or erudite account of events, but it was a very
useful source of information and is still widely used in studies of
English theatre in the Cape in the first two decades of the century.7
 FROM TRANCE DANCE TO PaR 173

However, F.C.L. Bosman’s monumental 1928 history of drama and

theatre in South Africa (1652-1855) can be called, with some
justification, the first true piece of theatre research on South African
theatre.8 The result of formidable historical detective work based on a
reading of all the available documents in the state archives and the
state libraries of the country, it describes the history of colonial
theatre (in Dutch, French, German, English and Afrikaans) in the
country from the arrival of the Dutch in 1652 to the middle of the
British colonial rule in 1855.9 Besides the books themselves,
Bosman’s primary legacy is his pioneering of the idea that theatre
was a performed art form rather than a literary form. His students and
researchers influenced by his work would continue the task of
writing the history of theatre and dramatic literature in the country in
the light of his philosophy.10
Valuable as this work is for understanding the colonial theatre in
the region at the time, it paid hardly any attention to African
performance and its contribution to the history of theatre here, or
indeed to dramatic theory. It was left to a third writer, H.I.E.
(Herbert) Dhlomo, to initiate this process. Founder, with his brother
Rolf, of the Bantu Dramatic Society in Johannesburg in 1933, he had
a clear vision for the cultural development of black South Africans
and among his works are a series of remarkable articles which he
published in the 1930s and 1940s exploring the nature and purpose of
drama in (Southern) Africa. His philosophy of theatre sought to blend
European notions of theatre with an understanding of African
performance practice – this long before the advent of performance
theory. The value of his ideas was not widely appreciated in the
period under discussion, but they do constitute one of the first
original attempts to devise a home-grown dramatic theory for South
Africa.11

PHASE TWO: PREPARING THE GROUNDWORK 1945-1962

Much of the research that followed on Bosman’s epic project
remained focused on generalized literary histories and overviews
until the mid-1970s, with the notion of drama as performed art
initially receiving scant attention and local writing in English or the
African languages not being considered an important field of study.
However, professional theatre now established itself as a
coherent system and by 1945 had become a much stronger and more
diverse industry, a cohesive poly-system, consisting of a strong
amateur base (among all language and population groups), a largely
174 TEMPLE HAUPTFLEISCH

itinerant rural Afrikaans theatre, a repertory English system in the

cities, and emerging urban and rural patterns of music and dance
performances among the Black population. In 1947 the National
Theatre Organisation (NTO), the first state-supported theatre
company in the British Commonwealth, came into being to
(theoretically) provide theatre for the whole country, though actually
limited of course to white Afrikaans and English touring companies.
In 1961 this concept was expanded to lead to the establishment of
four well-funded provincial Performing Arts Councils, responsible
for theatre, music, dance and opera in the four provinces.12 Their
repertoires were largely European, English and American, with a
smattering of original Afrikaans work, and the occasional English
play by a local writer. At the same time, toward the latter part of the
period, we see the first stirrings of more politicised work. For
example, Athol Fugard made his appearance between 1956 and 1962,
the musical King Kong (1959) introduced a new kind of urban
performance, and a number of Afrikaans and English writers
produced controversial works which changed the nature of local
writing.13
Of course, this growth in practice was inevitably accompanied by
a similar growth in the publication of commentary and reviews, most
of the newspapers now having substantial arts pages and regular
theatre reviewers, some of them not only academically well
equipped, but well aware of international trends – particularly among
the Afrikaans critics.14
Most importantly, this was the period when formal training in
what came to be known as theatre studies would begin. Before 1935
some universities (Cape Town, Durban and Stellenbosch) had offered
courses in voice and elocution, but the first formal departments were
only established at the University of Cape Town’s School of Speech
and Drama (in 1942), the University of Natal in Durban’s department
of Speech and Drama (in 1949) and the University of Stellenbosch
(in 1953).15 The structural models adopted were not the British or
European ones, with their split between academic study at
Universities and practical training in conservatoires, but something
much more integrated, more akin to the North American model, with
a blend of practical training and academic study being offered. It is
pretty much the same system that is still in use.
Soon a distinctive difference had developed between the English
drama departments and the Afrikaans departments. The English
departments tended to adopt a very pragmatic approach of drama
 FROM TRANCE DANCE TO PaR 175

training, with a focus on inculcating practical performance skills,

with less emphasis on academic work and postgraduate research. The
departments were often led by speech practitioners and actors
(Rosalie van der Gucht, Elizabeth Sneddon, Robert Mohr and so on).
The Afrikaans departments, initially also geared to skills training,
gradually favoured a theatre studies approach, with a strong interest
in the role of text-focused critic, researcher and historian. They were
largely founded and led (or partially led) by academics or journalists
rather than practitioners, who came from the Dutch/Belgian/German
world of formal drama study (e.g. Geoff Cronjé, F.C.L Bosman, Fred
Engelen and Fred le Roux). It is from them and their students that the
initial research and post-graduate work would come.
The impact of this groundwork phase of experiment and
academic development is seen in the gradual increase in formal
publishing of theatre research, with substantial monographs
appearing in the seven years under discussion, and another seven
appearing in the following decade. Besides a surprising number of
overviews, histories and biographical studies by journalists,16 the
period saw three substantial postgraduate theses being completed
locally – one on Afrikaans and the other two on English playwriting
in South Africa.17 They were largely summaries and overviews of the
plays that had been written to date, with little or no theorizing or
framing or serious critique. The most important point to be
emphasised at this stage is that, while there was no clearly structured
theatre research community as yet (or even a clear imperative to
undertake such research), the focus of general cultural studies and
literary research had clearly begun a slow but perceptible shift
towards a much stronger interest in the performance aspects of local
theatre and in local topics for research.

PHASE THREE: CULTURAL STRUGGLE, RADICAL

THEATRE AND THE EMERGENCE OF ANALYTIC THEATRE
STUDIES 1970-1985
The 1970s and 1980s were two of the most productive decades in
more than 300 years of cultural activity, with the most exciting,
diverse and politically relevant performances and events taking place.
In addition, both the context and theatrical events of the period are
perhaps more comprehensively documented than those of any other
era, for it was the time of the political struggle for liberation in South
Africa and there was a real sense of purpose to everything, including
a deep commitment to, and engagement with, the work by artists,
176 TEMPLE HAUPTFLEISCH

commentators and audiences.18 In what became known as the cultural

struggle, this commitment would profoundly interest two ensuing
generations of artists and affect the way the arts were perceived.19
A core value of this movement was a belief in the potential of art
as political weapon and its ability to change society and influence
destiny. Besides the large-scale and opulent – often brilliant – work
done by the Performing Arts Councils and the box-office successes
of major professional companies, a range of important alternative
theatre movements and facilities emerged in this period – including
formally structured “poor” theatre spaces (The Space Theatre, the
Market Theatre, etc.), radical companies (Theatre Workshop ’71,
Junction Avenue Theatre, the Serpent Players, Glasteater/Glass
Theatre, Bahumutsi Drama Group, etc.), informal (often unknown)
township venues (where underground performances by performance
poets, actor-playwrights and other artists took place) and the many
municipal and school halls where the touring township musicals of
Gibson Kente and others were presented. The National Arts Festival
(popularly known as the Grahamstown Festival) was also founded
1973, in response to an important drive for identity and recognition
among the various cultural groups in the country, and would grow
rapidly to have a powerful long-term effect on theatre in general and
the way the theatre system would develop.
Beyond the sphere of formal theatre, these two decades of
political struggle are also synonymous with the emergence of what is
today generally referred to as “applied theatre”. By the late 1970s the
idea of utilizing theatre processes in order to try to heal, change,
educate, inform and otherwise empower people and thus perhaps also
to change society, had become an important element in the practice
of many theatre-makers and cultural activists, and would continue to
grow in importance. The variety of activities and methods included
the playmaking strategies of workshopped political theatre (deriving
from Brecht, Boal et al.), Drama in Education (DIE) and Theatre in
Education (TIE). Later, the practice would be expanded to include
Psychodrama, Drama Therapy, Socio-drama, Theatre for Develop-
ment and Community Theatre, and similar methodologies, as well as
the more commercial fields of Live Advertising and Industrial
Theatre. These practices would become a core part of the university
training programmes, academic and professional conferences and
theatre research, particularly in the 1980s and later.
In this context six additional drama departments were now
founded to fill the need created by the expanded professional theatre,
 FROM TRANCE DANCE TO PaR 177

extensive radio services and eagerly awaited television service

(launched in 1976). These departments, their faculty members and
especially their students were important role players when theatre
became an active weapon in the struggle for liberation, and would all
contribute to the experimentation and intellectual debate. Not only
were they to be the makers of protest theatre, but they also became
the theorists for, and the documenters of, the cultural struggle.
Significantly the developments described above had come
precisely at a time when the state, through its Department of
Education (DOE), actively began to promote research and
postgraduate study, requiring the universities to up their “research
output”, in line with the international “publish or perish” philosophy.
In support of this aim, the Department introduced a number of
interesting incentives over the years, many of them of importance to
the arts.
For example, in 1968 the DOE founded a semi-autonomous
research institution called the Human Sciences Research Council
(HSRC), which in 1971 acquired an Institute for Arts, Language and
Literature, with a subsection called the Documentation Centre for the
Performing Arts. Founded by P.P.B. Breytenbach (1971-1973) and
Rinie Stead (1973-1978), it initially collected archival materials and
published bibliographies. Restructured as the Centre for South
African Theatre Research (CESAT) in 1979 and headed by Temple
Hauptfleisch (1979-87), it proceeded to undertake active research, its
projects being largely statistical, methodological and sociological
studies of audience attendance (1979-1881), interest in the arts in
South Africa (1983) and theatre history. CESAT closed down in
1988, when its materials were transferred to the State Archives in
Pretoria.20
Another DOE incentive of the 1980s was a unique rewards
system for research outputs, part of the Department’s tertiary funding
formula. To encourage publication, this scheme pays institutions a
substantial and specified amount per output unit produced by their
academic staff. Since many institutions pass (part of) the money on
to the particular department or individual researcher, this became a
source of considerable additional research funds for prolific writers.
Willingness to undertake research and publish their findings soon
increased, particularly once academics overcame the fear that the
system would be used to censor and control publication. The system
in turn had a stimulating effect on publishers and editors.
178 TEMPLE HAUPTFLEISCH

In this favourable environment a number of associations and

institutions now emerged, seeking to organize and promote theatre
and theatre-related research and practice.21 Their conferences and
seminars would generate a number of research initiatives, including a
stronger interest in publication and ultimately four major journals.
Most of the South African academic literary journals would take
articles on drama, though not that many were on offer. However, in
the period under scrutiny, conscious attempts were made to found
journals on theatre and performance. Among them S’Ketsh
(published sporadically between 1973 and 1979) stood out as a
valuable resource on township theatre, alternative theatre and theatre
by black writers, directors and performers. Three other important
journals were Teaterforum (founded by Elize Scheepers of the Drama
Department at the University of Potchefstroom for CHE , late 1970s
to 1986), which supplied a forum for lecturers in Drama
Departments, The SAADYT Journal (founded 1979 by South African
Association for Drama and Youth Theatre), which focused on the
theory and practice of educational theatre forms, and Critical Arts
(founded in 1980 by Keyan Tomaselli and John van Zyl at the
University of the Witwatersrand), which dealt more widely with
media and cultural issues, but published some trenchant work on
theatre and performance issues over the years.
While there clearly was a stable academic environment for
theatre study by the early 1970s, most of the theatre research activity
was still located in literature departments and the research published
– with a few important exceptions, such as the writing of the prolific
and inspiring Stephen Gray22 – tended to be somewhat conservative
in approach, concentrating on biographical studies of playwrights and
the analysis of published texts, rather than studies of performers,
performances, and the theatre and performance system.23 However,
by the 1980s a number of new theses and book-length publications
were radically changing the direction and focus of research in the
country. For example, a 1981 volume edited by Robert Kavanagh,
made a profound impression with its introduction of non-traditional
work from the arena of protest theatre and popular theatre.24 A
similar shift came in 1984 when Hauptfleisch and Steadman's
collection of four plays appeared, the first book since Bosman's
pioneering work to seek to discuss a more representative range of
local playwriting and production traditions.25 In addition, three
publications on various aspects of Afrikaans theatre appeared in this
period. 26
 FROM TRANCE DANCE TO PaR 179

However, the most notable year was probably 1985, when four
important doctoral projects dealing specifically with black South
African performance were completed by Peter Larlham, David
Coplan, Robert Kavanagh and Ian Steadman respectively.27 Larlham
introduced the study of rural indigenous performance forms, while
Coplan, Kavanagh and Steadman discussed black urban performance,
introducing a strong cultural materialist approach which was to
influence such studies for much of the 1980s and into the 1990s.
Following on this initial burst of activity, other individual
researchers also made significant contributions (through research
reports, theses, articles, lectures and books) to broaden the scope of
theatre research beyond the narrow confines of written literature or
formal theatre. More than 40 publications appeared in the period.
Particularly prominent in this were the contributions over a range of
activities of notable academics such as Keyan Tomaselli, Stephen
Gray, Johan van Zyl, Ian Steadman, André P. Brink, Lynn
Dalrymple, Martin Orkin and Ari Sitas, and through them, of many
of their students.
One very particular result of this burst of research energy was an
increased interest in interdisciplinary research, and specifically in the
work of cultural anthropologists and what VeVe Clark might have
termed “theatre archaeologists”, as theatre researchers began to look
for more specific links with the pre-colonial past.28 A critical factor
for those 20th-century theatre researchers who chose to study these
pre-colonial and pre-literate cultures is that in any pre-literate
performance one is dealing with a set of oral, visual and kinetic
activities, taking place in a world where no orthography or any
(extant) tradition of written history existed. It is specifically in this
period and the following phase that we see major advances being
made in interpreting and using the findings of the new cultural
archaeology and anthropological research, and adapting them for use
in theatre and performance studies.29

PHASE FOUR: RE-VISITING THE PAST, COPING WITH THE

FUTURE, RETHINKING THE PARADIGMS 1988-1994
This phase coincided with the democratization process and was an
extremely volatile and interesting one, during which the future of the
theatre and the shape and role of the theatre industry was heavily
debated in a diverse number of forums and publications. It was also a
time of some self-doubt and uncertainty among artists, writers and
academics, since much of the raison d’être for the period preceding
180 TEMPLE HAUPTFLEISCH

had been the liberation struggle – without the struggle, what would
one write about or build performances on? Yet, interestingly enough,
this very uncertainty actually seemed to stimulate publication and
research in a number of ways. Building on the infrastructure created
and the theoretical and methodological advances of the 1980s, the
decade following 1988, saw another burst of activity, with the
pressure to publish increasing, a South African Association for
Theatre Research being founded, a marked increase in students for
drama departments and candidates for postgraduate study, and a
conscious attempt by academics and artists to return to international
participation after the ending of the cultural boycott.
The 1980s trend towards founding research facilities (centres and
institutes) at various universities continued, with the Centre for
Theatre and Performance Studies (CENTAPS) at the University of
Stellenbosch (1994-2009) perhaps being the most specifically
focused on theatre and performance.30 This clearinghouse and
information centre was an active research centre engaged in a number
of research programmes on the theory, history and function of theatre
in South Africa, as well as being the publisher of the seminal
research publication South African Theatre Journal (SATJ).31
Like the years 1984-5, this short phase produced a significant
increase in doctoral studies32 and a large number of important articles
and at least sixteen substantial book publications, from traditional
histories to more radical and innovative studies of alternative
performance forms in the country, notably oral performance and
dance. Some of the most important contributions came from Martin
Orkin, J.C. Kannemeyer, Astrid von Kotze and Liz Gunner, all of
them managing to extend range of the field of study in some way or
another.33

PHASE FIVE: 1997-1999

The final period comes just at the point when the country’s old
theatre system, which had been under intense scrutiny and threat at
the start of the 1990s, had finally been dismantled and much of its
energy had shifted to the vibrant and widespread festival circuit
which had emerged since 1994 and to the new generation of small,
non-conventional urban performance venues.34 On the other hand,
the academic system was now well entrenched, open to (if not yet
financially accessible to) all citizens, and most importantly theatre
and performance studies was a recognized field of postgraduate study
and was being suitably funded by the state.
 FROM TRANCE DANCE TO PaR 181

This secure status is well illustrated by the three years preceding

the new millennium, when more than 60 Master’s and doctoral
studies were completed and 12 substantial books appeared.35 Perhaps
the most influential of these were Loren Kruger’s The Drama of
South Africa. Plays, pageants and publics since 1910, one of the best
overviews of the history of theatre and performance in the country
since Bosman’s 1928 publication, and Duncan Brown’s Oral
Literature and Performance in Southern Africa, a significant
contribution to our knowledge of indigenous oral performance.36
This work was supplemented by other perspectives on the history of
theatre and the plays published between 1997-9 by Bernth Lindfors,
Lizbeth Goodman, Martin Orkin, Kathy Perkins, David Graver, Rolf
Solberg and Temple Hauptfleisch.37 However, what now becomes an
issue of some concern – or at least of some intellectual interest – is
the fact that, unlike the previous periods discussed, the majority of
the academic work published is the work of academics attached to
foreign institutions, not local researchers – despite the incentives in
place.
I suppose that in part this had to do with the nature of the state’s
incentive system itself, which favours the publication of articles in
academic journals rather than in books, but it also has something to
do with a growing dissatisfaction among the faculty of arts
departments at tertiary institutions regarding the role of the artist-
lecturer and the research element in creative work.
The point is that the reward system has never recognized creative
outputs as the equivalent of formal articles or books, and to this day
adamantly refuses to do so. Two strong and compelling arguments
have always been made for their exclusion: (1) the process of making
art is an autonomous activity with its own unique infrastructures and
funding and reward systems; and (2) it is difficult to obtain peer
reviews of outputs. This issue of Practice as Research (PaR) thus
became a very important focus of the academic debate in the 1990s –
along with the efforts by various institutions to establish practice-
based doctoral programmes in South Africa, something the
government is strenuously resisting. 38
The reasoning behind this drive to accredit PaR processes derives
in part from an active international movement in this regard, but also
from two local factors, namely the increasing importance of applied
theatre practices and a marked growth in experimental work by
performing companies utilising performance to explore identity and
the processes of understanding and healing, as well as recovering the
182 TEMPLE HAUPTFLEISCH

past.39 Such processes not only constitute areas of practical research

endeavour, but are also keenly studied by a number of researchers,
including Yvette Hutchison, Mark Fleishman, Nadia Davids, Juanita
Finestone, Liz Mills and Alex Sutherland.
PaR and the related issues would become an even greater factor
in the decade ahead, as performance research began to adapt itself to
addressing African realities.

CONCLUSION
The problems confronted by the PaR movement are, of course, far
from unique to South Africa, for the core issues have become points
of spirited debate internationally, with much being published and a
number of initiatives having surfaced in other countries, particularly
after 2000. 40
Since 2000 numerous and sometimes radical changes have been
made to the tertiary education system in South Africa and the
campaign to improve research output has intensified. Further
incentives were introduced, most controversially a rating system for
researchers based on their output and reputation. The response of the
research community was diverse but intense, and included more fiery
debates on the issue of PaR. Part of this process led to a state-
sponsored pilot research project by Mark Fleishman and
representatives from a number of drama departments, seeking ways
to set up a peer review system for creative research outputs.41
In addition, these interests have led to a series of groundbreaking
conferences over the past ten years, including three Dramatic
Learning Spaces conferences organised by Veronica Baxter at the
University of KwaZulu-Natal, Pietermaritzburg, the 2007 Inter-
national Federation for Theatre Research (IFTR) Annual Conference
held at the University of Stellenbosch, an Applied Theatre conference
organised by Warren Nebe at the University of the Witwatersrand in
2009, and an IFTR-sponsored seminar on academic writing, hosted in
2010 by the University of Stellenbosch for African scholars. The first
three of these meetings were dominated by the PAR debate.
So, in conclusion one might say that we have almost come full
circle – from the explorations carried out through participatory oral
narratives, trance dances and communal performances among the
earliest inhabitants of the continent, we seem to have arrived back at
a point where notions of performance and notions of research
intersect and are being expanded. Perhaps this may be the ideal
 FROM TRANCE DANCE TO PaR 183

springboard from which one might proceed to new ventures in theatre

and performance research beyond the limits of the post-colonial.

NOTES

1 This article uses ideas proposed in three earlier pieces: “Drama and
Theatre in South Africa” In: The World Encyclopaedia of
Contemporary Theatre – Vol. 3: Africa (Ed. Don Rubin, London:
Routledge, 1997); “Rating the Theatre Practitioner: A South
African Case Study” In: Shannon Rose Riley. Mapping
Landscapes for Performance as Research: Scholarly Acts and
Creative Cartographies (New York: Palgrave-Macmillan, 2009),
and “Lady Anne’s Blog: Some Initial Thoughts on the Evolution
of Theatrical Commentary in South Africa”. In: Critical Stages
2(1) April 2010.
2 This does not mean that extensive archaeological and cultural
historical research has not been done to enable us to “read” and
understand the records left by pre-colonial peoples. See endnote 29.
3 I use the term “theatre research” in the way it is broadly used by
the IFTR and TRI, despite the fact that this European-American
view is clearly open to challenge and contestation by writers and
thinkers from other parts of the globe. See, for example, most
recently Linda Tuhiwai Smith’s thought-provoking book
Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples,
London: Zed Books, 1999 and Methodology of the Oppressed by
Chela Sandoval, Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press,
2000.
4 The first was the University of Cape Town (1829).
5 See Malcolm Gladwell The Tipping Point How Little Things Can
Make a Big Difference (New York: Little Brown, 2000). Also
interesting is Philip Ball Critical Mass: How One Thing Leads to
Another (London: Arrow Books, 2004).
6 Driven by the Afrikaner nationalist movement and the arrival in
South Africa of a number of qualified Dutch and Flemish
performers, such as revered actor-manager Paul de Groot, who
brought professionalism and literary acumen to his productions.
They provided much needed in-service training in Afrikaans to a
host of performers.
7 P.W. Laidler Annals of the Cape Stage (Edinburgh: William Bryce,
1926).
8 F.C.L. Bosman Drama en Toneel in Suid-Afrika Deel 1 1652-1855
(Pretoria: J.H. de Bussy, 1928). Bosman would continued studying
theatre in the country to the end of his life, his other works
including a variety of shorter summaries of the history in English
184 TEMPLE HAUPTFLEISCH

and in Afrikaans, as well as a second volume, F.C.L. Bosman

Drama en Toneel in Suid-Afrika Deel 1I 1855-1916 (Pretoria: J.L.
van Schaik, 1980).
9 The formidable collection of material used to undertake this project
make up part of the Bosman collections housed at the State
Archives in Pretoria and the Nasionale Afrikaanse Literêre
Museum (National Afrikaans Literary Museum) in Bloemfontein.
10 The most comprehensive were Ludwig Binge’s Ontwikkeling van
die Afrikaanse Toneel 1832 tot 1950 [The development of the
Afrikaans theatre 1832 to 1950] (Pretoria: J.L. van Schaik, 1969),
and Jill Fletcher’s The Story of the African Theatre 1780-1930.
(Cape Town: Vlaeberg, 1994). The internet-based Encyclopaedia
of South African Theatre and Performance (ESAT) currently being
compiled by Stellenbosch University’s Drama Department, is also
largely indebted to Bosman for its data on early theatre.
11 More immediately successful were Dhlomo’s attempts to stimulate
an interest in theatre among the youth in the urban settlements,
leading to the gradual growth of many other amateur theatre and
performance groups in the various black townships around the
cities. The articles and his dramatic works would most fortuitously
be rediscovered and published in the 1970s and 1980s, becoming
part of the theory of the new, alternative, South African theatre as
articulated by the writers and theorists of the cultural struggle of
the 1970s. See H.I.E Dhlomo Literary Theory and Criticism. Ed.
Nick Visser (in Special Issue: English in Africa 4, 2: 1-76, 1977),
H.I.E Dhlomo Collected Works Eds Nick Visser and Tim Couzens
(Johannesburg: Ravan, 1985) and Tim Couzens The New African:
A Study of the Life and Work of H.I.E. Dhlomo (Johannesburg:
Ravan, 1985).
12 The Cape Performing Arts Board (CAPAB), the Performing Arts
Council of the Transvaal (PACT), the Performing Arts Council of
the Orange Free State (PACOFS) and the Natal Performing Arts
Council (NAPAC).
13 One of the most influential periods South African theatre was
1956-1962, with new work produced including The Cell (1956), No
Good Friday (1958), Nongogo (1959) and The Bloodknot (1961)
by Athol Fugard, Moeder Hanna (1956) and Die Verminktes
(performed as The Maimed, in London in 1960) by Bartho Smit,
Germanicus (1957) by N.P. van Wyk Louw, The Kimberley Train
(1958) by Lewis Sowden, Try for White (1959) by Basil Warner
and King Kong (1959) by Harry Bloom, Pat Williams and Todd
Mitshikiza (1959).
14 A good case in point was W.E.G. Louw, one of the most prominent
critics of the 1950s and 1960s and later an influential and powerful
 FROM TRANCE DANCE TO PaR 185

arts editor, who not only had a doctorate, but claimed to have seen
over 1 000 European performances during his frequent visits to the
European continent.
15 The oldest form of training (beyond pure apprenticeship) in the
country had always been private drama and elocution classes, most
of them affiliated later to the SA Guild of Speech Teachers
(founded 1945).
16 Pioneering actor-director André Huguenet’s rather self-
aggrandizing autobiographical work Applous! Die Kronieke van 'n
Toneelspeler [Applause! The Chronicles of an Actor] (Cape Town:
HAUM, 1950) provides a thoughtful insider’s view and acute
analysis of the way theatre worked during the previous two
decades. Other works discussed influential producers (Muriel
Alexander, the Hanekom family, African Consolidated Theatres
and the Stodel family), the King Kong production and children’s
theatre in Cape Town and Johannesburg.
17 L.W.B. Binge op. cit.; L.D.M. Stopforth, Drama in South Africa.
(Unpublished MA dissertation, University of Potchefstroom,
1955); B. De Koker, South African Playwriting in English 1900–
1950. A Survey. (Unpublished DPhil, University of Pretoria,
1969).
18 “The Struggle” or “The Liberation Struggle” normally refers to the
period after the Sharpeville shootings (1960) and the 1976
uprisings up to the negotiations of 1989-90. This includes the
“armed struggle” and the “cultural struggle”.
19 In its narrower, specific sense the term “cultural struggle” refers to
the period when culture and the arts were consciously used as a
weapon in the struggle against apartheid and the Nationalist regime
(1963–1990). The struggle did much to shape the artistic and
critical theories and practice in the period, producing and
condoning a specific kind of political art, but – in the eyes of many
– at the expense of artistic freedom and artistic standards.
20 Later part of the South African Centre for Information on the Arts
(SACIA) in Pretoria. Also deriving from the HSRC documentation
project in the 1970s were the Afrikaans Nasionale Letterekunde
Museum en Dokumentasie Sentrum (NALN) [The National
Afrikaans Literary Museum and Documentation Centre] and the
National English Literary Museum (NELM) established in
Grahamstown. Both Centres are still invaluable sources for literary
and theatrical materials.
21 Besides trade associations, there was the Centre for Cultural and
Communications Studies Unit (later the Centre for Culture,
Communication and Media Studies – CCMS) at the University of
Natal, founded and run by Keyan Tomaselli, and a number of
186 TEMPLE HAUPTFLEISCH

academic associations, such as the Association of Drama

Departments of South Africa (ADDSA) and the South African
Association for Drama and Youth Theatre (SAADYT).
22 E.g. Stephen Gray Southern African Literature. An Introduction
(Cape Town: David Philip, 1979), Stephen Gray (Ed.) Athol
Fugard. (Johannesburg: McGraw-Hill, 1982) and Stephen Gray
(Ed.) Stephen Black: Three Plays (Johannesburg: Ad Donker,
1982).
23 See Temple Hauptfleisch “Theatre research in South Africa”. In:
Critical Arts 1(3), October 1980:11-22.
24 Robert Kavanagh South African People's Plays. (London:
Heinemann, 1981). This book was initially banned, but later
unbanned for academic use.
25 Temple Hauptfleisch and Ian Steadman South African Theatre:
Four Plays and an Introduction. (Pretoria: HAUM Educational,
1984).
26 J.H. Senekal (Ed.) Beeld en Bedryf. [Image and Act] (Pretoria:
J.L.van Schaik, 1978), Charles Malan (Ed.) Spel en Spieël.
Besprekings van die Moderne Afrikaanse Drama en Teater. [Play
and Mirror, Discussions of the Modern Afrikaans Drama and
Theatre] (Johannesburg: Perskor, 1984), André P. Brink Aspekte
van die Nuwe Drama [Aspects of the New Drama] (Pretoria,
Academica, 1986).
27 Peter Larlham Black Theater, Dance, and Ritual in South Africa.
(Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1985), David Coplan In
Township Tonight! South Africa's Black City Music and Theatre
(Johannesburg: Ravan Press/London: Longman, 1985), Robert
Kavanagh Theatre and Cultural Struggle in South Africa
(London: Zed Books, 1985) and Ian Steadman Drama and Social
Consciousness: Themes in Black Theatre on the Witwatersrand
until 1985 (Unpublished PhD thesis, University of the
Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, 1985).
28 See VeVe Clark “The Archaeology of Black Theatre” In: Critical
Arts, 1981, 2(1): 34–50.
29 Notable in this regard have been the research and publications of
J.D Lewis Williams and his colleagues at the Rock Art Research
Institute at the University of the Witwatersrand in Johannesburg,
the research on oral narrative and literature carried out by a wide
range of scholars in the years 1975-1995, including Harold Scheub,
Isabel Hofmeyr, R. H. Kaschula, Jeff Opland, Leroy Vail and
Landeg White, M. I. P. Mokitimi, Duncan Brown, Liz Gunner and
others, and the research on traditional dances among the Xhosa,
Zulu, Venda and other indigenous peoples by Edith
 FROM TRANCE DANCE TO PaR 187

Katzenellenbogen and her students at the University of

Stellenbosch in the 1980s.
30 Three other resources from the 1980s are the Centre for Cultural
and Media Studies (CCMS) at the University of Natal in Durban,
the Institute for the Study of English in Africa (ISEA) at Rhodes
University and the Centre for the Study of African Language and
Literature (CESALL) at the (former) University of Durban
Westville. The Mayibuye Centre for History and Culture in South
Africa at the University of the Western Cape was founded in 1991
and in 2001 became part of the Robben Island Museum, its
archives being called the UWC-Robben Island Mayibuye Archives,
but still housed in the Centre on the campus.
31 SATJ was founded in 1987 by Temple Hauptfleisch and Ian
Steadman as the first academic theatre journal which complied with
the demands of the state’s publication reward system (discussed
above). Shakespeare in South Africa, edited by Laurence Wright
for the Shakespeare Society of Southern Africa and published by
the Institute for the Study of English in Africa began in 1988.
32 E.g. Walter Greyvenstein The History and Development of
Children's Theatre in English in South Africa. (Unpublished D.Litt.
et Phil. thesis, Rand Afrikaans University, Johannesburg, 1988),
P.J. du Toit Amateurtoneel in Suid-Afrika. [Amateur theatre in
South Africa] (Pretoria: Academica, 1988), Julian Smith Toneel en
Politiek: ’n Voorlopige dokumentering en ideologiese verrekening
van kontemporêre swart Afrikaanse toneelaktiwiteit in die Kaapse
Skiereiland. [Theatre and Politics: A provisional documentation
and ideological exploration of contemporary black theatre activity
in the Cape Peninsula] (Bellville: Universiteit van Wes-Kaapland,
1990) and Zakes Mda When People Play People: Development
Communication Through Theatre. (Johannesburg: Zed
Books/Witwatersrand University Books, 1993).
33 Martin Orkin Drama and the South African State (Johannesburg:
Witwatersrand University Press, 1991), J.C. Kannemeyer Die
Afrikaanse Literatuur 1652-1987 [Afrikaans Literature 1652-1987]
(Pretoria: Human en Rousseau, 1988), Astrid von Kotze Organise
and Act. The Natal Workers Theatre Movement 1983–1987.
(Durban: Culture and Working Life Publications, 1988) and Liz
Gunner (Ed.). Politics and Performance: Theatre, Poetry and Song
in South Africa. (Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press,
1994).
34 See, for example, articles in Temple Hauptfleisch, Shulamith Lev-
Aladgem, Jacqueline Martin, Willmar Sauter and Henri
Schoenmakers (Eds) Festivalising! Theatrical Events, Politics and
Culture. (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2007) and Rolf Solberg (Ed.) South
188 TEMPLE HAUPTFLEISCH

African Theatre in the Melting Pot. Trends and Developments at

the Turn of the Millennium. Interviews by Rolf Solberg.
(Grahamstown: ISEA, 2003).
35 Data derived from the Nexus database of registered research of the
National Research Foundation (NRF) in April 2010.
36 Loren Kruger. The Drama of South Africa. Plays, pageants and
publics since 1910 (London: Routledge, 1999) and Duncan Brown
(Ed.) Oral Literature & Performance in Southern Africa (Cape
Town: David Philip, 1999).
37 Bernth Lindfors Africans on Stage (Cape Town: David Philip,
1999), Rolf Solberg Alternative Theatre in South Africa: Talks
with prime movers since the 1970s (Pietermaritzburg: Hadeda
Books, University of Natal Press, 1999), Lizbeth Goodman (Ed.)
1999. Women, Politics and Performance in South African Theatre
Today 1. Contemporary Theatre Review. An International Journal
Vol. 9, Part 1 (London: Harwood Academic Publishers, 1999), D.
Graver (Ed.) Plays for a New South Africa (Bloomington: Indiana
University Press, 1999), Kathy A. Perkins (Ed.) Black South
African Women. An Anthology of Plays. (Cape Town: Cape Town
University Press, 1999) and Temple Hauptfleisch Theatre and
Society in South Africa: Reflections in a Fractured Mirror
(Pretoria: J.L. Van Schaik, 1997).
38 PaR is the acronym for Practice-as-Research, but the field is also
referred to as – inter alia – ‘Research-into-Practice’, ‘Practice-
based Research’, or ‘Performance-as-Research’ by various writers.
39 Notable recent examples include Mark Fleishman and Jenny
Reznik’s Magnet Theatre, Gary Gordon’s The First Physical
Theatre Company, Brett Bailey’s Third World Bunfight, Basil
Jones and Adrian Kohler’s The Handspring Puppet Company, and
Eric Abraham and Mark Dornford-May’s Isango Portobello
company.
40 In addition to a number of recent books see, for example,
Performance Studies international (PSi), the International
Federation for Theatre Research’s working group on Practice as
Research (PAR) and the Practice as Research in Performance
(PARIP) Project at Bristol University.
41 Mark Fleishman, Veronica Baxter, Temple Hauptfleisch and Alex
Sutherland Testing Criteria for Recognising Practice as Research
in the Performing Arts in South Africa, with particular Reference
to the Case of Drama and Theatre. An unpublished report on a
research national project commissioned by the NRF, 2009.
 PART II
APPLIED/COMMUNITY THEATRE AND
PERFORMANCE
CHAPTER 7

THEATRE IN/FOR DEVELOPMENT IN TANZANIA:

A NEOLIBERAL NIGHTMARE
VICENSIA SHULE

INTRODUCTION
The beginning of the twenty-first century has witnessed the
metamorphosis of new terms – such as ‘neoliberalism’ – coined to
describe the old ones – such as ‘imperialism’ – that were used to
depict surplus generation and capital accumulation (Chachage, 2006:
1). According to Shivji (2007: 1), “neoliberalism represents the
return of aggressive imperialism in the form of globalisation”. Ngugi
wa Thiong'o (1997: 8) observes that the whole process of
imperialism in Africa is an issue related to a struggle for power,
whereby economics, politics, culture and literature are intertwined. In
such an evolution the theatre has been struggling to serve both the
particular local society which it is processing and the neoliberal
policies that are dominating socio-economic processes on a global
scale.
This chapter explores the relationship between theatre and
neoliberal policies in Tanzania. It analyses the consequences of
neoliberalism for the Tanzanian theatre and exposes the challenges it
faces as a simulacrum of people’s culture. I also present evidence on
why it is important, when analyzing theatre in Tanzania just before
and after independence in 1961, one should take into consideration
the influence of internal and international political economies. Using
the case of Theatre for Development (TfD), the chapter also deals
with the assumption that neoliberal policies have pushed theatre to
the periphery and created greater donor dependence.

HISTORICIZING NEOLIBERALISM
Neoliberalism is an economic model whereby the market is left to
regulate itself. In this case boundaries and rules on how to play the
192 VICENSIA SHULE

market game are not set. Apart from deregulation of the market,
neoliberal policies go also with the removal of subsidies,
retrenchment of the workers, and cost sharing of public services such
as education and medical care. It is in the same process where the
notion of a public good is disqualified and privatization is glorified
instead. The privatization of such public goods allows those with
adequate capital to buy publicly constructed factories and other
institutions such as those for transportation, communication and
banks. This implies that those with advanced economies are in a
position to accumulate more capital from the poor economies.
The concept of neoliberalism can be well understood on the
global level, where it has been advocated in the form of
‘globalization’. According to Cerny (2008: 1), neoliberalism “has
often been seen as a revival of what has sometimes been called
‘classical liberalism’ or ‘19th century liberalism’ – i.e., a return to
purer laissez faire principles and the ideology (and economic theory)
of the self-regulating market”.
Elizabeth Martinez and Arnoldo García (2000) define neo-
liberalism on the basis of its negative effects from the mid-1970s,
when it was massively ‘ushered’ in. Throughout the world such
policies have increased the gap between the poor and the rich. The
process of legalising neoliberal policies has been advocated by the
United States of America (USA) through the so-called International
Financial Institutions (IFIs) such as International Monetary Fund
(IMF) and the World Bank.
In describing how neoliberalism was welcomed in the ‘poor’
countries like Tanzania, Shivji points out that:

Neoliberalism made its entry into our countries through various SAPs
[Structural Adjustment Programmes] of the early 1980s. These
programmes were nothing more than the further integration of our
economies and resources into the world market circuits (liberalization
of trade). We were required to withdraw budget allowances from social
services to repay loans (cost sharing and balancing of the budget) and
deliver natural resources to multinational capital. More importantly
SAPs took away the sovereign decision-making right of the African
nations. Cost sharing and user fees destroyed whatever little ‘welfare’
state had been established in the awake of independence (Shivji, 2009:
156).

Such SAPs were advocated as being the one and only solution to the
poor economies. Ali (2003: 193) shows how “SAPs were adopted by
 THEATRE IN/FOR DEVELOPMENT IN TANZANIA 193

African countries like ‘secular gods’”. Shivji (2009: 156) continues

to criticize neoliberal policies, which were introduced under the
umbrella of democracy, multipartyism, liberalisation and economic
recovery aimed at so-called ‘poverty reduction’. To him the whole
process of IMF/World Bank development sounds imperialistic, as a
majority of Tanzanians have failed to experience uhuru (indepen-
dence) because poverty has become fully entrenched. Chachage and
Chachage show clearly how the imposed neoliberal policies
marginalized people’s voices at the periphery.

SAPs [Structural Adjustment Programmes] had restructured capital

(private and public) which benefited from the statist model of the 1960s
and 1970s around newly deregulated branches (import-export activities
and the plunder of natural resources). They had also heightened the
marginalization of the majority of the people and, aggravated tensions
and reinforced further hierarchization. The practical problem for the
IFIs International Financial Institutions] and their supporters was how
to win popular support for the SAPs measures and the market order,
which are essentially anti-people and anti-human rights [...]. It was
within this context that those democratic struggles, which sought new
historical visions and modes of politics that aimed at defending women,
youth, children, workers, poor peasants, the marginalized minorities,
etc. were derailed (Chachage & Chachage, 2003: 7).

The shift of the so-called people’s revolutions were embodied and

paralysed by the Structural Adjustment Programmes (SAPs) and
donors’ support. Julius Nyerere (the first president of Tanzania)
believes that, apart from internally generated failures of ujamaa
(socialism), the IMF and the World Bank have played a major role in
uprooting ‘the little good’ foundation ujamaa had put in place
(Nyerere, 1980: 7-8). To synthesize Nyerere’s position, Mlama
points out that:

In spite of the genuine intentions to build a socialist state, Tanzania has

not been spared the socio-economic crisis afflicting the rest of the
developing world. An intensified of finance capital, an increased debt
burden, the manipulation by the World Bank, The International
Monetary Fund and a host of donor agencies are all part of the problems
that have increased impoverishment of the majority (Mlama, 1991:
104).

Mignolo (2005: 99) reminds us “each goal only tells half of the
story” as what happened to Latin America was the opposite side of
194 VICENSIA SHULE

the same coin of what happened to Africa. By the end of 1980 the
political and economic atmosphere of sub-Saharan Africa was ‘grave
enough’, as Nyerere admits (Nyerere, 1980: 9), the region was bleak
and on its knees, as Shivji concludes (2009: 56). Most of the
countries failed not only in providing sustainable development, but
they also failed to implement independence ideals. The majority of
the population suffered because of a lack of social services.
The crisis was fuelled by internal and external factors, as Mlama
(1991: 104) points out. Externally, aid from the United Kingdom was
cut, then from West Germany and the USA. The controversy
revolved around the Tanzanian ujamaa-led foreign policy, which
advocated Pan Africanism, a call for African unity and Tanzanian
support for the liberation movements in Southern Africa and Asia
(Lihamba, 1985a: 66). Internally, various scholars (Chachage &
Chachage, 2003: 5; Lange, 2002: 64; Fosu, 2008: 145) believe that
the Tanzanian economy suffered from the 1970s oil crisis, high levels
of inflation, the budget deficit, the cost of the war against Idi Amin,1
followed by a major famine in 1984 caused by a series of droughts
which decreased agricultural production. Poor transportation infra-
structure and lack of important social services such as education,
health, water and sanitation made people despair of ujamaa. When
the IMF declared the conditions for lending money to boost the
economy, Nyerere admitted that his country’s problems were enough
on their own without political interference from the IMF. He stated
bluntly that “if they [IMF] cannot help, at the very least they should
stop meddling” (Nyerere, 1980: 9).
Generally, the problem of Tanzania was not ujamaa, but related
to the concept and content of developmentalism. According to
Chachage (2007: 6-7), developmentalism was the inherited policy
which defines development using Euro-American criteria instead of
using the social-cultural state of the nation. Zeleza (in Chachage
2007) traces the evolution of developmentalist ideology. He said it
started in the 1930s during the Great Depression and culminated in
World War II. In Africa this ideology was propagated through the
1929 British Colonial Welfare Act followed by the British Colonial
Development and Welfare Act of 1945. These acts forced African
countries to plan their development using foreign ideologies. The
establishment of the IMF and World Bank was intended to facilitate
and glorify this developmentalist ideology (Chachage, 2007: 6-7).
 THEATRE IN/FOR DEVELOPMENT IN TANZANIA 195

THEATRE/CULTURE AND DEVELOPMENT

According to Chachage (2006: 1), development as a concept
‘metamorphosized’ in the last 500 years of human development. The
term has been regarded as highly suspect, especially when applied to
the African context. The historical perspective showed clearly that
slavery and colonialism emerged in the form of the Christianisation
of savages/barbarians and of the civilisation of the primitives.
Imperialism and neocolonialism surfaced as the process of
modernisation and development. For modernisation it meant moving
African societies from traditional to modern life styles with a
Western outlook, and for development it implied being able to
depend on commodity-based production which leads to capital
accumulation as the way of managing the economy. Therefore, it is
important when discussing development in Africa in the post-
independence era to bear in mind these five main concepts: slavery,
colonization, imperialism, neo-colonialism and neoliberalism, with
cause and effect relationships between them. Cerny (2008: 39) points
out that neoliberalism with its “arms’-length regulation has proven to
be a relatively manipulable and fungible platform for actors to use to
reconstitute their strategies and tactics”.
The concept of culture and development emerged vigorously
during the Mexico Conference known as Mondia Cult of 1982. This
was the time when research publications and reports showed clearly
the challenge of ‘development’ in the developing countries,
especially in Africa, as a result of the development agencies’
unwillingness to reflect the cultural conditions of the developing
countries (Diagne & Ossebi, 1996: 28-29; Epskamp, 2006: 32).
Ndagala (2007: 3) points out that until recently culture was seen as a
fundamental force for development. Before the emphasis had been on
social service provision – health, education and infrastructure. Even
donors themselves kept their focus on social service thinking in the
belief that it would result in the rapid development of the agriculture
and industrial sectors. So economic growth was perceived to be a
quick solution to poverty. To rectify the situation, the United Nations
Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) in
1988 announced a Decade of Cultural Development. This was
followed by several initiatives, including the World Culture and
Development Commission Report of 1995 (Diagne & Ossebi, 1996:
28).
On the other hand, the initiative for culture and development
started in Africa years before UNESCO recognition. Good examples
196 VICENSIA SHULE

were the Accra Conference of 1975, the Lagos Plan of Action of

1980 and the Lome Agreement of 1984, which all discussed and
agreed on the significance of culture for the sake of African
development (Diagne & Ossebi, 1996). In Tanzania this started in
1962 through the Ministry of Culture, which was responsible for
eliminating neo-colonialism and imperialism, and for helping
Tanzanians regain national pride (Askew, 2002; Lange, 2002).
The general perception of the IMF and the World Bank was that
by lending money to poor countries would boost development. It was
only recently that these organizations started to talk about culture and
development (Ndagala, 2007: 4). Cerny raised a query about the IMF
and World Bank approach to global governance. He says:

International regimes and global governance institutions have not only

sought more autonomy, but have also transformed their policy goals to
a more complex, evolved neoliberal approach. For example, the World
Bank’s shift in the mid-1990s to giving priority to poverty reduction
goals over harsh structural adjustment policies has changed the
discourse of global governance towards more socially-oriented goals,
although how much it has changed the substance of policy is hotly
debated (Cerny, 2008: 38).

Furthermore, Amartya Sen (n.d.: 1) in his article Culture and

Development elaborates on how “the world of banking and that of
culture are not thought to have much in common”, so it is impossible
to accommodate the two phenomena (capital accumulation and
culture) in the same basket. As expected, the World Bank deals with
culture only in relation to environmental issues, i.e. cultural heritage
(Epskamp, 2006: 36). Furthermore Epskamp clearly signals that:

[The World Bank] introduced the ‘environmentally sustainable

development’ concept, embracing the cultural with the natural
environment, and focusing on exploiting human and natural resources
without destroying their environmental context. The World Bank’s
interest in ‘culture in sustainable environment’ deals with the intrinsic
value of the historic cultural heritage of the past and the expression of
the local culture today, including the cultural heritage of indigenous
people. These resources provide the benefits from sustainable tourism,
without denaturing the cultural assets that motivate that tourism in the
first place. Cultural tourism is considerable to be ‘bankable’ activity.
Therefore, the Bank is in favour of programmatic people-centred
support in the form of financing operations such as loans and credits
(Epskamp, 2006: 36-37).
 THEATRE IN/FOR DEVELOPMENT IN TANZANIA 197

Nyoni (2008: 173) explicitly analyses the reasons for international

non-governmental organizations (INGOs) or the so-called ‘donor
community’ (including UNICEF, WHO, OXFAM, GTZ, AMREF,
Ford Foundation, DANIDA, NORAD, SIDA and the Peace Corps),
to support theatre that directly relates to development. For him there
are two major reasons, which have causal effects. Firstly, these
institutions strongly support theatre because it is said to ‘bring about’
development. Secondly, some of the institutions support Theatre for
Development (TfD) so as to be able to carry out their responsibilities
in a particular community. The level of commitment and
responsibility is what this chapter is concerned with. These
responsibilities are well stipulated in most of the donors’ foreign
policies and in fact are more relevant to the donor country than to the
intended recipient. For example, the change of Swedish Foreign
Policy with regards to ‘terrorism’ in 2002 directly affected theatre, as
most of the project funding from the Swedish International
Development Agency (SIDA) were suspended or reshaped to reflect
the new Swedish foreign policy. Paul Brian (in Palma, 1983: 43)
shows clearly that “what is decisive is that economic development in
underdeveloped countries is profoundly inimical to the dominant
interests in the advanced capitalist countries”. According to Etherton
(2004: 204), most donors support TfD in addressing social issues
such as HIV/AIDS, the protection of children, human rights,
democracy, the empowerment of women, and conflict and poverty
reduction. This is because TfD is seen to have a different approach in
that it empowers the intended community to take an upper hand in
the choice of the themes and incorporated theatre forms. In Kenya, as
for Tanzania, Odhiambo (2008: 14) shows how the reintroduction of
TfD attracted donor funds because it was addressing fundamental
community issues such as HIV/AIDS, female genital cutting (FGC),
democracy and so on.

THEATRE FOR DEVELOPMENT: THE UNHEALED WOUNDS

It is evident that from its inception in the late 1970s Theatre for
Development (TfD) has achieved its aim of being both interactive
and participatory in its approach in Tanzania and in other African
countries where it has been practised. Boal (2000) proposed the idea
of breaking the wall between actors and audience to create ‘spect-
actors’ and Freire (1972) proposed theatre to break the culture of
silence by animating and emancipating people. All these to a certain
level have been achieved by TfD. Kerr (1995: 171) also ‘celebrated’
198 VICENSIA SHULE

the way that TfD managed to return to the performer-audience

relationship and partnership, as can be seen in ‘traditional’ African
theatre. For him the barrier has been broken.
The Malya experience of 1982-3 can also be cited as one of the
achievements brought about by TfD. A theatre group in the village of
Malya in the Mwanza region of Western Tanzania (Kerr, 1995: 158)
put on a performance on the problem of child sexual abuse whereby
older men impregnated young girls. The post-performance discussion
led to direct accusations against the older men in the village, which
led in turn to the dismissal of the village chairperson and the
secretary, as under their leadership they had failed to solve the
problem. Here one can argue that Freire’s approach of using theatre
to give a voice to the voiceless has been vindicated. Nyoni (2008:
173) refers to this as the power of TfD to empower community
members to realize their aims. Theatrically, the Malya experience
also reduced the cultural hostility of the dominant Christian church,
known as African Inland Church (AIC), to ‘traditional’ theatre forms.
Traditional dances from the Sukuma ethnic group, which was
dominant in Malya village, were incorporated into the performance
for the public (Mlama, 1991: 125-127).
Michael Etherton has used his experience of working in South
Asia with the international NGO Save the Children to show the
usefulness of the process. For Etherton (2004: 191), the use of
theatre, i.e. TfD, became useful to Save the Children in addressing
the issue of children’s rights in the adult community. He argued that
TfD helped some Save the Children staff and local organizations,
who lacked the skills to work with children and young people. In his
conclusion Etherton advocates the approach:

TfD itself is a method and a process that the young people say enables
them to deal with those in authority. The method is collectively
creative, based on learning skills in improvisation, analysis and
effective communication. The process is contained in a set of tools and
exercise that leads children and young people into negotiation with
adults in positions of power. TfD, then, is itself a process of
empowerment of socially excluded children and young people
(Etherton, 2004: 215-216).

Breitinger expresses the same admiration of TfD. He argues that:

Theatre for Development as a planning, educative and even managerial

instrument relocates society from periphery, where remote-control
 THEATRE IN/FOR DEVELOPMENT IN TANZANIA 199

development policies had relegated it into the very centre of the

community, and makes it central to communal planning and decision
making. Theatre for Development takes local culture seriously. It takes
local cultural values and practices as the departure point from which to
define what kind of development is needed to improve life in the
community and by what means it should be affected. Re-focusing on
local cultural heritage and de-focusing foreign culture is an important
aspect in the new approach to development policies (Breitinger, 1994:
E8).

Nyoni (2008: 175) acknowledges foreign aid and donors for enabling
TfD to prosper not only in Tanzania, but also in other places where it
has taken hold. For him donors have been able to ‘return’ theatre to
the community by integrating it into development. Through such
support, donors’ projects and programmes have been able to provide
employment to groups and artists/facilitators who are working in
theatre and development projects. This means foreign aid has been
able to empower some theatre groups and individuals financially.
The communication of programmes such as TfD entails an
attempt to fulfil certain roles on various levels. These include the
transmission of information that aims at achieving a behavioural
change of the intended community. It is expected that this change of
behaviour will be beneficial to the intended community. However, at
the same time there is the communication aim of boosting the image
of the funding agency involved (Epskamp, 2006: 109). This implies a
dichotomy of funding body and the targeted community.
After looking at these achievements, it is also useful to look at
the challenges of implementing TfD. Kerr (1995) as well as other
TfD scholars such as Boon and Plastow, (2004) and Epskamp (2006),
has been sceptical not only of the TfD process, but also of the current
trend of TfD initiatives. Kerr (1995: 159), criticizing TfD, argues that
“the major disadvantage of Theatre for Development workshops has
been that they have not been truly popular”. He provides an example
of Laedza Batanani in Zambia, where powerful community
administrators controlled the whole process in 1976. Boon and
Plastow (2004: 5) also raise a question about TfD and empowerment.
They contend that donors who support the project in most cases
would like to know who is being empowered by TfD, by whom, and
the extent of the empowerment. Having to prove that theatre can
empower people can sometimes end up being confrontational. The
process of answering donors’ questions about empowerment has two
distinct paths, empowerment for or against the community. This
200 VICENSIA SHULE

means that potentially donors would be interested in empowering

communities that will support their ideology and mission. On the
other hand, donors are probably interested to know which one is the
targeted community because they wish to avoid funding a non-allied
community or one that will not support their mission. Wallace,
Bornstein and Chapman add that:

For development agencies there is a recognized need to be closely in

touch and accountable to donors, beneficiaries and partners; the same
tensions apply and what may be best for the donors sometimes may not
work well for the beneficiaries. However, in this case only one side has
real power, the donors, and reporting against the logframe shifts
accountability firmly away from beneficiaries and partners (even the
host governments) towards the donors (Wallace, Bornstein & Chapman,
2007: 39).

This assertion shows clearly that even if TfD practitioners are aware
of the TfD process and requirements, they can find themselves
inclining towards donor or state demands, and it is this possibility
that made Kerr (1995: 159) suspicious about the ‘popularity’ of TfD.
One can see how foreign aid in development projects has created
new opportunities as well as challenges for the protection and
promotion of theatre, as Nyoni (2008: 173) points out. Most (if not
all) TfDs have been funded by foreign donors. According to Nyoni
(2008: 170), this has been due to its effectiveness in involving the
community in deciding, planning and implementing developmental
projects. But “this foreign aid injection and donors involvement in
TfD has resulted in artists themselves being deceived that the
fundamentals/basics or essence of TfD is foreign aid and donors”.2
Moreover, TfD processes which are funded either by foreign donors
or the state, especially when it has a strong interest in the
developmental aspects, becomes a sensitive issue to discuss. The
documented reports (Bakari & Materego, 2008; Eyoh, 1984;
Etherton, 2004; Mlama, 1991), which refer to theatre as part and
parcel of development, have limited authentic and aesthetic criticism.
Such reports recommend further application of TfD to foster
‘people’s’ development, without pinpointing the challenges of
implementing TfD in the neoliberal era. This ‘glorification’ of TfD
seems to compromise the disowned concept of ‘developmentalism’
In some cases donors have initiated and over-emphasized the use
of theatre for their own explorations and adventures (cf. Nyoni, 2008:
173. Hellen Nordenson (2008), Senior Programme Officer, Division
 THEATRE IN/FOR DEVELOPMENT IN TANZANIA 201

of Culture and Media of Swedish International Development Agency

(SIDA), points out that theatre activities funded by SIDA must show
clearly how to alleviate poverty and have a development concept
behind them. So when embarking on a TfD project which has been
funded by donors such as SIDA, it is clear that TfD loses its key
attribute of having community members be owners of the process.
Instead the donors now own it and this is what can be seen as TfD
being donors’ propaganda for Theatre for Donors’ Development
(TfDD). Epskamp (2006: 63) also shows clearly that TfD donor
dependency poses a threat to its sustainability. He argues that “TfD
runs the risk that outsiders will set priorities and strategies, manage
up their implementation, broker all forms of aid, and perhaps even
supervise the distribution of benefits” (Epskamp, 2006: 63).
According to the World Bank:

Funding difficulties and complexities have also weakened

sustainability. Rather than fund balanced programs fully integrated with
national budgets, donors have supported capital investments without
adequate attention to the need for both counterpart funding and
additional domestic resources to operate and maintain facilities.
Without sufficient budget support, investments are likely to be
ineffectively used and maintained-especially with debt service draining
public budgets (World Bank, 2000: 245).

To understand the consequences of donors’ emphasis on funding

theatre that has ties to development, we can take the example of the
Eastern African Theatre Institute (EATI). This NGO was established
in 1998/99 after consultation with the main funder SIDA (Swedish
International Development Agency). EATI has been used to fund
various theatre and development activities, especially TfD in all
member countries: Ethiopia, Kenya, Tanzania and Uganda (EATI,
2004, 2007). After ten years of foreign funding the institution had
still failed to carry through its activities, after which SIDA ‘suffered’
from donor fatigue. Most of the activities in which EATI was
involved were only those which SIDA could agree to support. This
shows that foreign aid and donors’ initiatives need critical analysis,
as they have tended to do more harm than good. Most of them are
concerned with ‘missionary’ activities, i.e. executing donors’ wishes,
which cannot sustain either individuals or institutions.
TfD has been regarded as a ‘righteous’ process because it has
helped to reduce some discrepancies experienced in the theatre
models of ‘theatre to the people’ and ‘theatre with people’. The
202 VICENSIA SHULE

description of TfD as a people’s theatre and the use of internal

facilitators represent the so-called equal power sharing between
external animators and the community involved. In fact, TfD is a
class-based process. For example, the external and internal
facilitators do not have the same power in terms of decision-making.
Internal facilitators have to follow what the external facilitators, and
in most cases what the lead facilitator, has decided.
Apart from inexperience or partial experience, it is also difficult
for internal facilitators to carry on the process after the external
facilitators have left, as continuing the process has financial
implications. External facilitators are being paid for the work they do
in the field as ‘experts’, and though the internal facilitators will
receive a certain amount, it is sometimes less than that received by
the external facilitators. However, the same internal facilitators are
expected to continue with the process indefinitely without being paid,
which is difficult and impractical. The assumption is that some
people will do ‘missionary’ work because they want to ‘serve’ and
‘save’ their own community, therefore they will carry the process on
in the absence of the external facilitators. Epskamp (2006: 63)
regards this as a threat to TfD. Odhiambo (2008: 84) shows clearly
how in Kenya TfD faced the ‘intellectual’ problem, namely that TfD
cannot be sustained in the absence of ‘intellectuals’ or the so-called
external facilitators. In addition, it is difficult for internal facilitators
to carry on the process as the time to learn the process is usually
limited. Eyoh (1984: 163) referred to the introduction of the TfD
process in the Kumba area in Cameroon in just two weeks as a
“herculean task”. Epskamp (2006: 62) shows clearly that TfD cannot
provide new skills to the intended recipients as the allocated time for
implementation is too short.
Currently it is difficult to believe that TfD initiatives stem purely
from the facilitators’ sympathy and that they simply wish to
empower communities to use TfD as a platform to address issues of
injustice, prejudice and cultural/economic poverty. The motive has
shifted from the community to personal gain (Boon & Plastow, 2004:
1). According to Gibbs (1999: 125-126), “personal circumstances,
economic conditions and World Bank policies have sent African
activists and writers to seek funds from various sources”.
Furthermore, Gibbs sees the partnership between TfD practitioners
and some donors as forced by the lack of local sources of funding.
Gibbs’s argument has perfectly linked the evolution of TfD in
Tanzania and the circumstances surrounding its popularity. The
 THEATRE IN/FOR DEVELOPMENT IN TANZANIA 203

1980s was a time of economic hardship, party supremacy and a

miserable social life for the majority. Structural Adjustment
Programmes (SAPs) became part and parcel of the reason for the
popularity of TfD as most of the proposed developmental projects
necessitated the use of participatory approaches. This means it is
difficult to differentiate between ‘modernization’ and ‘development’,
as Mazrui and Mazrui (1995: 106) argue when projects are being
initiated and funded through capitalist systems such as the
IMF/World Bank. In addition, Wallace, Bornstein and Chapman
(2007: 31) have related the aid chain and power play by donors to the
‘delay’ of development in the recipients’ countries.

While the packing of aid by institutional donors and INGOs draws

heavily on these different languages [rational management and
participation], the mechanisms of rational management have been
systematized, institutionalized and embedded in aid bureaucracies. Our
concern, confirmed by research, was that this heavy reliance on one
managerial model would overshadow and possibly undermine a
commitment to participatory approaches to development. In
understanding how one language has come to dominate through
standardized procedures and systems of accountability, it is important to
recognize where power lies and how it is currently used in north-south
funding aid chains, something often acknowledged but rarely analysed
(Wallace, Bornstein & Chapman, 2007: 31).

It is evident that TfD as a participatory model has created a more

profound donor dependency, as Nyoni (2008: 173) shows the
relationship of TfD and donor dependency. Foreign aid and donor
funds in theatre come with accountability. For TfD, it is difficult to
say to whom these theatre practitioners are accountable.

The tension between accountability to donors and accountability to

beneficiaries is well known and organizations need to find ways to
satisfy both if they are to survive, in theory at least. So while large
companies have to report to shareholders, they have also to meet the
needs of their customers; sometimes what is good for shareholders is
not good for customers. However, because they feel their survival
ultimately lies in being passionate about their customers, they know the
importance of communication with them in order to flourish (Wallace,
Bornstein & Chapman, 2007: 39).

In a similar way, theatre has to adhere to donors’ accountability

systems regardless of their effects on the theatre’s survival. Various
204 VICENSIA SHULE

scholars such as Kwesi Akpabala (as quoted by Gibbs, 1999: 125)

believe that “imperialists are impertinent cultural arbiters who use
theatre as a neocolonization method”. Akpabala’s argument reflects
the way TfD has been used to address issues proposed from above.
The issue here is not to decry the usefulness of donor support in
theatre, but rather to address the issue of conformity and the need for
using such funds. According to Nyerere (1968: 25), there is a very
thin line between slavery and freedom when depending on and
receiving financial support from foreign institutions. He argues:

How can we depend upon gifts, loans, and investments from foreign
countries and foreign companies without endangering our
independence? The ‘English’ people have a proverb which says, ‘He
who pays the piper calls the tune’. How can we depend upon foreign
governments and companies for the major part of our development
without giving to those governments and countries a greater part of our
freedom to act as we please? The truth is that we cannot (Nyerere,
1968: 25).

Nyoni (2008: 174) describes how these gifts, loans and donations
have led to impairments in TfD. He argues that some artists, in order
to compete for donors’ funds, have tried to show TfD can be done
within a very short time frame and bring immediate change. This
means that ‘real’ or ‘professional’ TfD practitioners either have their
budgets cut or are rejected entirely when they send their proposals to
donors as they seem to be ‘expensive’. Additionally, artists have
been forced to perform ‘low-rated TfD’ so as to meet donors’
requests and demands or the allocated budget.
Institutionalization has been another challenge of TfD. TfD
started as a purely activist movement. According to Lihamba (2004:
245), there were multifaceted layers of TfD popularity and demand in
its initial application in Tanzania. These included the inability of the
state to provide basic infrastructure for its people. Despite the Arusha
Declaration of 1967, there was a rising petit bourgeois class,
increased corruption, poverty and abuse of the rule of law in the early
1980s. There was also widespread neglect and misuse of the arts. So
TfD was adopted as a means to negotiate for better socio-political
and economic standards for people, including artists. Despite its
attractiveness, as a movement TfD was not supposed to be
institutionalized. The institutionalization of any movement puts it in
danger of being captured and controlled by those very people the
movement was formed against. This means that if TfD was formed
 THEATRE IN/FOR DEVELOPMENT IN TANZANIA 205

against the state, it is easy to use state powers to control it. Kerr
(1995: 159), using an example of Laedza Batanani in Zambia,
showed how TfD cannot lead the direction of change, but only
second the direction on which the dominant class has decided.
According to Samba (2005: 24), the continuing use of TfD to
represent people’s participation actually represents the top-down
approach. This implies that what is practised is in fact Theatre in
Development (TiD) rather than TfD (Nyoni, 2008: 170-172). Samba
clearly asserts that “these NGOs and aid donors cannot deny the
backlash this model [TfD] produces in the target community. In some
cases, it has manifested as resentment and in others as opposition and
resistance”. Samba (2005: 74) adds that donors should be held
responsible for the backlash they have created in the local
communities through their top-down approach to development via
NGOs.

There are numerous challenges associated with donors’ introduction of

participatory approaches. While official recognition of the role of local
actors in development is important, such donor approaches can
systematize and often depoliticize the push for participation [...], which
all too easily becomes a technical exercise. Moreover, the ‘empiricist
predilection’ of participatory methods can result in ‘insufficient
attention to legitimacy and justice’, and ‘tendency to get bogged down
in methods and techniques without stopping adequately to consider
initial assumptions of broader issues (e.g. about the purpose of the
techniques) (Wallace, Bornstein & Chapman, 2007: 43).

It is clear that TfD cannot work effectively if there is no base to

support it at the grassroots level (Materego, 2002: 147). Communities
have failed to sustain it and it ends immediately as soon as the
facilitators leave. “TfD lacks facilities of follow-up activities by
means of training and logistics”, according to Epskamp (2006: 63).
Community members tend to think that the action plans and
resolutions passed during the TfD process should be implemented by
the facilitators or the state, and not by themselves. Most of the
discussions and solutions (in the post-performance discussions)
present administrators and state officials as victims; the community
members are rarely presented as victims. This makes TfD not user-
friendly, especially to community leaders, because most of the time it
does not facilitate their leadership, but rather pinpoints their
problems (Materego, 2002: 144-145).
206 VICENSIA SHULE

TfD has continued to be a complex practice as it has inclined

towards elitism or intellectualism, as Odhiambo (2008: 84) has noted.
Data analysis and the preparation of the plan of action (PoA) are
among the more complicated TfD stages. These stages lay the
foundation for implementation, accountability, monitoring and
evaluation. This requires knowledge not only of theatre, but of the
social setting. Facilitators must have interdisciplinary knowledge to
lead the whole process. The question is how many facilitators are
theatre literate, as well as being socio-political and economic
experts? What are the levels of their understanding of these issues as
facilitators? Wallace, Bornstein and Chapman (2007: 36) address this
issue of ‘expertise’ within a broader perspective. They say:

The approach to expertise is also problematic. Despite donor or NGO

instructions to the contrary, often the logical framework is constructed
or finalized by a few individuals, staff or consultants, sitting in an
office, working with a vague mandate from local people and a clear set
of strategic objectives from potential donors. They may know that they
are not constructing the best possible plan, but they are putting together
one that is plausible on the basis of their own knowledge. This also
raises questions about the legitimacy of the resulting plans and
documents, for both beneficiaries and staff (Wallace, Bornstein &
Chapman, 2007: 36).

Looking at the attributes of TfD leads to the conclusion that only

elites and intellectuals can facilitate TfD in a way which fulfils its
expectations. Experience shows that, as it evolves, TfD is becoming
more and more complex and detached from the community. If the
role of the facilitators is to facilitate and empower people to own the
process, the outcome can be impressive but insufficient. The
emphasis has shifted from the first six stages to the post-performance
discussion and the preparation of the plan of action. This implies that
the last three stages are more important, as they form the main part of
the researcher’s or donor’s report. Epskamp (2006: 63) shows clearly
that artists who participate in TfD activities are there for the theatre
aspect. The promotion of development agendas seems not to be
within the scope of their work.
The chances of research institutions and universities not treating
TfD communities as ‘test tubes’ or ‘guinea pigs’, as Kerr (1995: 158)
describes them, are becoming less and less. In using TfD as a
research method, the aim of the research remains in the interests of
the researcher and his/her ‘compradors’ rather than in the interests of
 THEATRE IN/FOR DEVELOPMENT IN TANZANIA 207

the TfD community. Using the community for personal research gain
under the umbrella of people’s theatre has to be questioned, as most
of the findings are not communicated to the researched community.
Lihamba (2004: 246) agrees that TfD and its practitioners face
challenges. One of the challenges they outline is the relationship
between theatre as a process and theatre as a product. There has
been an ongoing debate over whether TfD should continue to
enhance development and ignore its aesthetics. Bakari and Materego
(2008: 41-67), when outlining the stages of TfD, clearly emphasized
the message rather than the artistic presentation. They argued that the
nature of TfD was not to put any emphasis on artistic creativity or
skills development other than making sure it manages to convey the
required information, a process which Odhiambo (2008: 21) has
referred to as ‘codification’. The lack of emphasis on artistic
creativity by TfD in turning theatre into a ‘medium of
communication’ has to be questioned. According to Fiebach (2009),
theatre is not a medium of communication because not all
information that is conveyed is communication. Weber further argues
that:

Theatricality resists reduction to a meaningful narrative by virtue of its

ability to signify. This ability associates it with what is called
‘language’. As the most ubiquitous of signifying media – a pleonasm
insofar as all media are such through signifying – language
demonstrates the priority of the signifying function over that of
representation. In so doing, far from reducing the materiality and
corporeality of theatre, it marks their irreducibility (Weber, 2004: x).

Secondly, Kerr (1995: 155) is not satisfied with the way TfD treats
theatre. He argues “doubts existed, however, whether such a ‘rough’
theatre might not in fact be a euphemism for a second-rate theatre,
especially bearing in mind that pre-colonial traditions of popular
theatre were certainly not ‘rough’ in the sense of de-emphasizing
skills”. This implies that the continuation of honouring pre-colonial
theatre forms as the ‘best’ option for TfD as community theatre is a
misconception of traditional theatre forms in implying that they were
‘rough’ and ‘half cooked’. Makoye (2008: 106-107) shows clearly
how traditional theatre forms were presented according to specified
standards agreed within a particular community. That is why
Lihamba (1985a: 32) expresses caution about the use of traditional
theatre in contemporary society, especially when trying to
incorporate it into a ‘modern’ system. It is clear that the process of
208 VICENSIA SHULE

integrating traditional theatre forms in TFD was based on the idea

that pre-capitalist theatre was idyllic.
The emphasis of foreign development communication has
minimized other alternative routes for development. Theatre has been
shaped to communicate development and has forgotten the fact that
theatre itself needs to develop, as do its practitioners. That is why
Epskamp (2006: 62) regards the returns on TfD, in comparison with
its investment, to be ‘too modest’. Lihamba (1985b: 31-32) believes
that there is a direct link between development, freedom and theatre
creativity, which should be embraced, acknowledged and respected.
So where funding is concerned, or where there is an emphasis on
development communication, it is clear that the performers’
imaginations are being interfered with, influenced, manipulated and
even corrupted. These sensations and imaginations are the ones that
arouse the audiences’ emotions, feelings and perhaps bring efficacy.
In the case where TfD does not focus on aesthetics or skill
development, it tends to work outside of ‘theatre conventions’. This
means TfD reaps artistic benefits for the sake of development but
without any replacement. “In TfD practice, it is often overlooked that
promoting TfD in itself neither creates the necessary motivation for
learning nor ensures the utility of TfD” (Epskamp, 2006: 62). If the
focus of TfD was to link the post-independence communities with
pre-colonial ones using traditional theatre forms, then that approach
was completely impractical. There should be a new mechanism of
integrating current theatre forms within TfD rather than focusing on
traditional theatre forms. It is obvious that community members
cannot tolerate unskilled or ‘rough’ performances for the sake of
development. The point will come when they will not be
facilitated/empowered any longer. That is why Odhiambo (2008: 14-
15) calls for practitioners to re-examine their TfD practices and “then
decide how to improve and make more effective their own practices”.
TfD as a process is not as flexible as practitioners like to
advocate. For example Samba (2005: 74) shows how TfD is flexible
“as a language of development communication, how different
facilitators have adapted it to their immediate socio-cultural contexts,
and the purposes to which the approaches have been used”.
Considering TfD that is funded by donors or research institutes, the
whole process is regulated according to the donors’/institute’s budget
and annual reporting schedule. So facilitators have to struggle to
work within the allocated time so as not to ‘blow’ the budget or
overspend. Even if facilitators find a different situation in the
 THEATRE IN/FOR DEVELOPMENT IN TANZANIA 209

community which perhaps requires extra days, the flexibility is

limited by the allocated budget. So because the community members
might not be aware of the internal organization of the external
animators, they find themselves unknowingly or sometimes
knowingly ‘bulldozed’ in the process. This behaviour has its pros and
cons. Wallace, Bornstein and Chapman show that:

This approach [tight externally controlled accountability] [...] risks

replacing trust and judgement, ‘distorting the proper aims of
professional practice and indeed damaging professional pride and
integrity’. Efforts to achieve better performance and results often
actually threaten the quality of work, by inhibiting people from using
their skills in innovative ways and hedging them about with
bureaucratic controls. The pressure for counting and accounting is so
strong that trust, flexibility, and the ability to adapt and change are often
undermined (Wallace, Bornstein & Chapman, 2007: 40).

The other challenging issue is the position of TfD facilitators. For

example, facilitators have been granted the power to run TfD
processes and oversee the outcomes, but they have no chance to push
for reforms. “TfD lacks power to implement sustainable follow-up
activities” (Epskamp, 2006: 62). That is why in most cases
facilitators have to work in collaboration with other activists’ groups
to speed up the implementation of the agreed solutions in the plan of
action (PoA). In the preliminaries, facilitators have to state the
reasons and the aim of conducting TfD in a certain community. In
this case, who are the facilitators representing and to whom are they
accountable? Is it to the state or research institutions such as
universities or to the donors who fund TfD? Epskamp (2006: 62) sees
this as one of the weaknesses of TfD, as it lacks internal monitoring
and ownership.
The other issue that most scholars have not outlined is the risk of
being both internal and external facilitator. In referring to external
facilitators, it means those facilitators who come from outside the
TfD community but who are from the same country. If there are
misunderstandings between any of the parties, it mostly falls to the
national external facilitators to resolve them rather than to the
international facilitators, who often ‘just pay a visit’, some as
tourists. What must be made very clear, however, is that if the TfD is
very successful, then those who provided financial support tend to
receive most, if not all, of the credit. ‘Best practices’ included in the
donors’ reports (in most cases) recommend ‘further research’ and/or
210 VICENSIA SHULE

further ‘interventions’, which then lead to other projects. However,

when things backfire, the national external facilitators are the ones
who are held accountable for unsuccessful project outcomes, as they
always act as a bridge between donors and TfD community members
In some cases community members can abuse facilitators for
their failure to follow-up, or the community administration can make
allegations of conspiracy to wreck their jobs. Being an external
national facilitator in a donor-funded TfD means to take a high risk,
but this is not stated in the project documents. Sometimes some
facilitators work on a project without knowing the content and the
consequences of the project. Verbal attacks and abuse are common,
such as the village administrator during the TfD process in 2000 in
the village of Mlonganzila in the Coast Region, Eastern Tanzania,
who said that people will suffer the consequences after the
‘Americans’ have gone (Jackson, 2000: 9). It is obvious that as a TfD
facilitator one has to play the role of an activist trying to apply
‘militant reforms’, even though sometimes the intention or the inner
motive of TfD lies in globally dominant policies.
Although every community setting is unique, at the end of the
day it is difficult to limit ‘prejudice’ against the TfD outcomes. For
example, in working with students as a TfD community in several
instances, after some time one can predict the nature of the
performance and post-performance discussion. For instance, students
will either show the weaknesses of the school administration or how
some teachers are not gender responsive or abuse students sexually.
The same applies to farmers and/or communities that keep cattle. The
discussions can be on how cattle keepers have invaded farmers’ land
versus cattle keepers’ accusation to farmers as the ones who have
extended their farming land on to the cattle keepers’ premises. I do
agree that there are exceptional cases, but all in all the research or
project reports, the logframe and the donors’ tracking formats and
templates are the same.
Epskamp (2006: 62) shows how the ‘workshop syndrome’ as an
income-generating activity has led to TfD facilitators not developing
new skills. Samba (2005: 74) elaborates how donor agencies have
been putting pressure on practitioners to produce ‘quick and
quantifiable’ results, which in one way or another qualify the
previous non-participatory methods. Furthermore, Samba (2005: 74)
relates the situation to Freire’s ‘banking method’ of education,
whereby “dissemination of information [is] characterised by
 THEATRE IN/FOR DEVELOPMENT IN TANZANIA 211

manipulation and control as opposed to the promotion of dialogue”.

And this occurs to a large extent because

aid is not disbursed using participatory mechanisms but on the basis of

logframes. The need for planning and control overweighs the push for
participation at the bureaucratic level. While participation usually
features as a essential part of the logframe it is only one component in
the system of planning, implementation, monitoring and reporting
(Wallace, Bornstein & Chapman, 2007: 34).

This implies that, although donors pretend to support TfD because of

its participatory nature, it is clear that their support is for the top-
down approach (TiD) whereby information is imposed from the
centre by facilitators.
Looking at the implementation of neoliberal policies from the
mid-1970s, it is evident that the policies are there to protect the
global capitalist system. This is clearly done through some of the
international NGOs or local NGOs which are used to propagate and
legitimize such policies. Giving INGOs a ‘driver’s seat’ in the
development of the developing economies is the same as allowing
donors and their countries of origin to dictate, even rule, such
developing nations. The use of theatre, especially Theatre for
Development (TfD), as a participatory model for development is also
a mechanism to justify capitalism as a people-centred economic
model when the fact is that it is not. The negative impact of
neoliberal policies cannot be justified by the use of ‘participatory’
approaches, as TfD has been used to do, because historically there
are ‘unhealed wounds’ of slavery, colonialism, neo-colonialism,
imperialism and now neoliberalism. The process of using donors to
fund theatre has made theatre fail to sustain itself and perhaps
become more dependent. Consequently, one might call such theatre
either Theatre for Donors’ Development (TfDD) or Theatre in
Development (TiD).

NOTES

1 In 1978/79, Tanzania went to war with Idi Amin Dada, the

Ugandan leader who came to power through military means. Amin
had overthrown the then Ugandan president Milton Obote in 1971.
The cost of the war was a heavy burden on the Tanzanian economy
(Fosu, 2008:145).
212 VICENSIA SHULE

2 English translation by the author from the original Kiswahili quote

from Nyoni.

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Epskamp, K. P. 2006. Theatre for Development: An Introduction to Context,

Applications and Training. London: Zed Books.
Etherton, M. 2004. South Asia's Child Rights Theatre for Development: The
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Fiebach, J. 2009. Theatre in Tanzania. (V. Shule, Interviewer, March 03).
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CHAPTER 8

A VOICE IN THE TEETH OF POWER: POPULAR

THEATRE UNDER THE CENSORSHIP RADAR IN
ZIMBABWE (1998-2008)

PRAISE ZENENGA

I believe that the notion of a hidden transcript helps us understand those

rare moments of political electricity when, often for the first time in
memory, the hidden transcript is spoken directly and publicly in the
teeth of power (Scott, 1990: xiii).

James C. Scott’s conviction that subordinate social groups can still

express dissent in the face of overwhelming hegemonic powers aptly
describes the risky, in-your-face performance strategies that
Zimbabwean popular theatre practitioners create and employ to resist
subjugation, express dissent and critique the state. This chapter
argues that, although Zimbabwean popular theatre activists use
Scott's approach to move the country’s cultural history deeper into
the political milieu of the 21st century, the imperative to voice
dissent in the teeth of power1 has given birth to distinct forms of
protest theatre that rely on language, space and time to evade state
censorship. Shrinking democratic spaces have necessitated the
creation of daring and high-risk strategies to express dissent and
protest in the face of authority. Zimbabwe’s cultural and political-
economic environment at the turn of the 21st century has shaped and
conditioned the rise and practice of anti-establishment theatre. The
specific focus is on Zimbabwean popular theatre forms that evolved
between 1998 and 2008. In retrospect, this period (1998-2008) is
aptly referred to as the crisis decade because of the harsh political
unrest, social turmoil and rapid economic decline experienced in the
country.
In both its aesthetic and political expression, popular theatre
produced during the crisis decade in Zimbabwe not only sought to
218 PRAISE ZENENGA

create a new social order, but also to forge new, alternative,

revolutionary and safer2 forms of political opposition or expression
of discontent. Although the Zimbabwean state worked to strengthen
the censorship machinery at the turn of the 21st century,3 popular
theatre practitioners sought and created alternative strategies
necessary to circumvent, protest and revolt against the barriers set in
their path to self-expression. A substantial part of this chapter is
devoted specially to the newer forms of time-reliant and anti-
establishment theatrical practices emerging in 21st century Zimbabwe
in addition to the traditional radical and experimental popular theatre
forms that utilize language and space to critique authority.
A brief examination of the political and economic forces that
influenced the rise of new popular theatre practices in Zimbabwe is
necessary to provide a context for the relationship obtaining between
practitioners and the state in the past decade. The 21st century
challenge for popular theatre practitioners operating in Zimbabwe
requires the artists to constantly negotiate and navigate the
treacherous political landscape. Adopting such a historical materialist
approach in this chapter also serves to illustrate that popular theatre
as a mode of cultural production is dialectically interconnected with
the political, economic and social aspects of Zimbabwean life and
struggle. This shows that, to a larger extent, popular theatre reflects
all spheres and dimensions of Zimbabwean life and struggle –
economic, political, social and cultural; it cannot be separated from
these domains.
In their efforts to cope with conflicting factors and situations,
popular theatre artists constantly strive to be revolutionary, while
being non-confrontational at the same time. The ability to manage the
paradox of a non-confrontational opposition theatre demands that
practitioners create the most aesthetically challenging and political
performances. Although allegiance to the state guarantees political
survival and economic survival, most popular theatre artists view
such loyalty as detrimental to the creation of an authentic democratic
culture in Zimbabwe. Popular theatre practitioners who created
impressive cutting-edge performances to critique, lampoon and
interrupt the status quo without generating distrust and disaffection
among the authorities, survived the tumultuous decade of change and
crisis. It is therefore important to examine the different performance
strategies and theatrical forms that these popular theatre artists
created and employed during the crisis era as they endeavoured to
 A VOICE IN THE TEETH OF POWER 219

remain true to a democratic and progressive social agenda in the teeth

of power.
In order to analyze and understand the historical processes and
forces that shape new theatrical strategies in 21st-century Zimbabwe,
this chapter will address the following questions: What are the
historical dynamics that have shaped and transformed the state-
citizen relationship in Zimbabwe over the years? In particular how
did the Zimbabwean crisis shape state-artist relationships? What new
aesthetic strategies and forms evolved out of the crisis decade? What
risks were involved in these endeavours to express opposing views in
the face of power? What effect did these strategies have on
audiences? What mechanisms did the state introduce to counter and
censor opposition theatre? The chapter demonstrates the various
ways that Zimbabwean popular theatre artists and activists use not
only to evade and counter state censorship, but also to fashion
ingenious means of expressing their dissent in the face of tremendous
power. In Zimbabwe, as in many other parts of the world,
“censorship is flexible, responsive, motile, adaptive; boundaries of
prohibitions are shifted, redefined” (Schneemann, 1991: 35). This
implies that popular theatre artists also keep searching for new,
alternative, revolutionary and non-confrontational forms of political
opposition or expression of discontent.
Although the Zimbabwean state often creates problems for
performing artists, the increasingly authoritarian regime has been
unable to exterminate radical popular theatre performances. As
NgNJgƭ wa Thiong’o puts it: “You can destroy a people’s culture
completely only by destroying the people themselves” (1993: 45).
Wa Thiong’o’s argument implies that to abolish popular theatre and
other embodied cultural practices inextricably linked to the struggles
for human existence is tantamount to annihilating all the people who
collectively produce them. Similarly, popular theatre produced at the
height of difficulties in Zimbabwe, specifically in the environment of
the crisis decade, could not be stopped no matter how intense those
difficulties turned out to be. As an embodied cultural practice that
takes place in the presence of real bodies interacting in real time and
space (McEvoy, 2009: 207), popular theatre has always been an
essential way for Zimbabwean societies to express not only their
political dissensions, loyalties, opinions and views, but also their
collective thoughts, memories and cultural values. Despite risks and
challenges emanating from human rights violations and shrinking
democratic spaces that characterized Zimbabwe during the first
220 PRAISE ZENENGA

decade of the 21st century, Amakhosi Theatre, Rooftop Promotions,

Savannah Arts and Vhitori Entertainment and several other popular
theatre companies continued to produce political theatre.

POPULAR THEATRE AS CULTURAL RESISTANCE

Popular theatre – variously referred to as people’s theatre, theatre for
social change, radical theatre, theatre of the oppressed, community
theatre or theatre for development in Zimbabwe and other parts of the
world – refers to a wide range of practices. Although popular theatre
refers to that type of theatre which is generally “well liked and
accessible to people at all levels of the socio-economic spectrum”
(Cole, 2001: 109), it is not necessarily opposed to state hegemony
and ideology. While not all popular theatre produced in Zimbabwe is
subversive of the status quo, this chapter focuses primarily on a
special type of popular theatre that is not only anti-establishment
theatre, but is also preoccupied with promoting the quality of civic
life through political processes. Also commonly known as protest or
political theatre, this special type of popular theatre belongs to
Augusto Boal’s broad category of theatre of the oppressed. In
practice, this type of politically engaged and socially committed
theatre closely resembles Brecht’s conception of the popular:

Our concept of what is popular refers to a people who not only play a
full part in historical development but actively usurp it, force its pace,
determine its direction. We have a people in mind who make history,
change the world and themselves. We have in mind a fighting people
and therefore an aggressive concept of what is popular (1957: 108).

Brecht’s definition underscores the subversive tendencies of

popular theatre forms under discussion. For Brecht such theatrical
practices not only derive their popular essence from an inherently
anti-authoritarian thrust, but he also further defines “popular” as that
which is “intelligible to the broad masses, adopting and enriching
their forms of expression/assuming their standpoint, confirming and
correcting it/representing the most progressive section of the people
so that it can assume leadership” (ibid.) In other parts of the world
popular theatre is aptly referred to as theatre for social change. Like
Brecht, Karin Barber also amplifies the need for popular theatre to
understand and transform the subjugated people’s conditions:

Popular [theatre] is about what people think about the world, how
they explain it and experience it, and what they think they can do
 A VOICE IN THE TEETH OF POWER 221

about it. The artist is not simply transmitting messages

communicating his or her own self-perception… The artists are
talking about fundamental political, moral and social issues, in all
kinds of ways – acquiescent, conformist, oppositional, oblique,
ambivalent (Barber, 1987: 110).

While some theatre practitioners in Zimbabwe have acquiesced to

state policies and state rhetoric, artists opposed to the nationalist
regime’s mode of governance, policies and ideology have expressed
dissent through their art. This means that during the crisis decade
popular theatre was simultaneously transformed – overtly and
covertly – into a mode of political expression and a practice of
cultural resistance.
At the turn of the century Zimbabwean popular theatre artists
created new theatrical forms in order to launch both subtle and open
attacks on the establishment. Their practices transformed
Zimbabwean popular theatre into a dynamic site for political
struggle, protest and intervention reminiscent of the era of the war of
liberation. As Karin Barber puts it, popular theatre “itself is an arena
of contestation, and the sharing and contesting of social experience is
nothing less than the forging of a new ideology” (Barber, 1987: 110).
The desire to keep pace with a rapidly-changing political
environment also prompted popular theatre artists to create new and
relevant systems of aesthetics for theatrical performances. It is
important to critically examine how these new theatrical practices not
only depicted the rapid changes in Zimbabwean society, but also
thrived in the face of an increasingly autocratic regime. Unlike
conventional theatre, these new popular theatrical forms, according to
an observer in the 1990s, “are tied to the specificities of their time
and place… and they continually reincarnate themselves to reveal the
new truths of each specific time and place in which they are
performed” (Oreinstein, 1998: 25). This argument raises the question
of whether the birth of new theatrical forms is attributable to the
rapid political and economic decline bedevilling Zimbabwe in the
last decade.

A POLITICAL ECONOMY IN CRISIS: CONTEXT AND

CHALLENGES
When Zimbabwe attained political independence at the height of the
Cold War in 1980, the new nation’s honeymoon did not last long.
The nationalist leadership not only kept failing to fulfil most
222 PRAISE ZENENGA

promises made during elections, but it also gravitated towards a

single-party dictatorship. The socialist-oriented nationalists who took
over the reins of power at independence also used popular theatre to
spread socialist ideas.5 For the ruling elites such a trend can be seen
as a natural continuation of their party’s use of popular theatrical
forms for politicization and mobilization purposes dating back to the
liberation war days.6 During the first decade of independence most
popular theatre practitioners toed the state line and were obliged to
participate in state-sponsored rallies and campaigns designed to
promote patriotism, socialism, reconstruction and national unity.
Popular theatre productions were more celebratory, idealistic and
optimistic about the new nation’s potential and future. Additionally,
many popular theatre artists in Zimbabwe and the whole sub-region
were ideologically in sync with most nationalist socialist regimes and
condemned South African apartheid with a united voice.
While apartheid South Africa, Namibia, Angola and
Mozambique were all embroiled in intense civil wars and conflicts,
the newly independent state of Zimbabwe emerged as a bastion of
democracy in the volatile Southern Africa region. With nationalist
dictatorships wreaking havoc in Malawi, Zambia and Kenya,
Zimbabwe turned into a sanctuary for prominent theatre artists
escaping repression all over the region. For example, under Daniel
arap Moi’s dictatorial regime the team involved in Kenya’s
Kamiriithu popular theatre project, Kimani Gecau, NgNJgƭ wa Mirii
and Micere Mugo, escaped state repression and found Zimbabwe to
be a hospitable destination. Robert McLaren aka Mshengu (Robert)
Kavanagh, a radical popular theatre artist from South Africa, together
with other practitioners from Malawi, made Zimbabwe their second
home simply because the nationalist regime’s socialist rhetoric and
pseudo-social democracy agenda framed Zimbabwe as a free-speech-
friendly country.
On the theatrical front Zimbabwe benefited immensely from the
expertise of these regional exiled theatre artists and activists. In
particular, Mshengu Kavanagh and the late NgNJgƭ wa Mirii brought
to Zimbabwe their respective South African and Kenyan experiences
and aesthetics. They also collaborated with local theatre activists and
scholars such as Stephen Chifunyise, Thomspon Kumbirai Tsodzo
and Vimbai Gukwe Chivaura. These Zimbabwean scholars also
brought back and introduced other African and Western avant-garde
trends they acquired while they were studying, working or exiled to
Zambia, Nigeria and the USA during the liberation struggle era. In
 A VOICE IN THE TEETH OF POWER 223

addition to the minimalist agitprop and testimonial traditions from

apartheid South Africa and the Kenyan Kamiriithu popular theatre
trends that Kavanagh and waMirii introduced in Zimbabwe, the local
returnees also brought with them popular theatre trends from the
Black Arts Movement in the USA, the Brazilian popular theatre
trends rooted in the Freierean and Boalian philosophies and practices,
as well as the long established Theatre for Development (TfD)
traditions from Nigeria and Zambia.
With both local and foreign theatre artists, scholars and activists
simultaneously teaching at the University of Zimbabwe and
conducting intensive training workshops with community-based
theatre practitioners, the popular theatre terrain in post-independence
Zimbabwe rapidly transformed in an unprecedented way. The
amalgamation of these various traditions from the country’s own
indigenous performance practices and theatrical trends drawn from
other African cultures and the outside world constituted the bedrock
of post-independence Zimbabwean popular theatre. The key defining
characteristic of popular theatre emerging in Zimbabwe at the dawn
of the 21st century is the blend of local performance traditions with
aesthetics drawn from Africa and the rest of the world to create
special types of popular theatre that reflect the prevailing political
and socio-economic climate.
With Zimbabwe’s attaining political independence during the
final phase of the Cold War, as mentioned earlier, the majority of
popular theatre artists, scholars and activists returning to and residing
in Zimbabwe were ideologically in sync with the new nationalist
regime’s leftist ideology. However, the end of the Cold War in the
1980s also coincided with the outbreak of another civil war between
the Zimbabwe African National Union Patriotic Front (ZANU-PF)
regime and a faction of disgruntled guerrillas formerly affiliated with
one of the main liberation parties, the Zimbabwe African Peoples
Union Patriotic Front (ZAPU-PF). The ruling party’s assault on
ZAPU, then the main opposition political party, marked the first
major step in Zimbabwe’s escalation into a single-party dictatorship.
Under the guise of reconciliation and healing the wounds of the
brutal civil war, official narratives still remain silent on how the
conflict not only reached genocidal proportions, but also assumed
some features of ethnic cleansing. Southern parts of Zimbabwe were
the most affected and over the years popular theatre productions
provided a platform for survivors to deal with trauma and the burning
memories of the genocide. Popular theatre productions such as
224 PRAISE ZENENGA

Amakhosi’s The Good President (2007) and Savannah Arts Trust’s

Decades of Terror (2007) not only depict genocide and political
violence, but also provide a counter-narrative. Most importantly,
these popular theatre performances also afford the victims space for
healing and working through memories and trauma.

THE CRISIS DECADE

Over the years the continued economic collapse in Zimbabwe
triggered massive social unrest, culminating in a period of intense
economic and political crises at the turn of the 21st century. In
retrospect the period between 1998 and 2008 is now aptly referred to
as ‘the crisis decade’ because of the severe political unrest, social
turmoil and rapid economic decline experienced in the country. The
cultural economic and political ramifications of the Zimbabwean
crisis decade, also known as the “lost decade”, are evident in popular
theatre productions. The dire economic and humanitarian situation
emanating from the failure of the national political leadership in
Zimbabwe constituted a man-made crisis. The causes of the crisis
ranged from the nationalist regime’s chaotic land reform to economic
mismanagement and the attendant recession and inflation. Human
rights abuses, widespread corruption, controversial election results
and targeted “smart” sanctions also exacerbated the crisis. Natural
calamities such as drought and floods as well as the HIV/AIDS and
cholera pandemics also worsened an already bad situation and
exacerbated the crisis. Brian Raftopoulos sums up the Zimbabwean
crisis as follows:

The crisis became manifest in multiple ways: confrontations over the

land and property rights; contestations over the history and meanings of
nationalism and citizenship; the emergence of critical civil society
groupings campaigning around trade union, human rights and
constitutional questions; the restructuring of the state in more
authoritarian forms; the broader pan-African and anti-imperialist
meanings of the struggles in Zimbabwe, the cultural representations of
the crisis in Zimbabwean literature; the central role of Robert Mugabe
(2010: 202).

The massive economic failures and the resultant impoverishment of

the general populace in Zimbabwe gave birth to numerous opposition
voices. During the crisis decade popular theatre emerged as one of
the loudest and most critical political voices.
 A VOICE IN THE TEETH OF POWER 225

As the Zimbabwe crisis deepened at the turn of the new century,

popular theatre activists joined the voices of intensified dissent that
not only condemned and critiqued bad governance, but also called for
an urgent regime change. The increasingly autocratic state responded
with an insane show of power. The ruling nationalist elite,
“appropriating the old traditions of colonialism, flexes its military
and police muscle” (Fanon, 2004: 76). During the crisis decade the
ruling elite’s powerful military and security agents harassed, arrested,
detained, assaulted and tortured opposition political activists,
including popular theatre artists. Such repressive machinery confirms
Fanon’s thesis that “The colonized subject is a persecuted man who
is forever dreaming of becoming a persecutor” (2004: 16). Most
importantly, this cycle of political violence endemic in post-
independence Zimbabwe has led to the evolution of a particular
theatrical genre on the Zimbabwean stage. In plays such as Savannah
Arts’ Decades of Terror (2007) and Amakhosi’s Witnesses and
Victims (2000), violence not only constitutes the key themes but also
shapes new forms of protest.
During the crisis decade popular theatre also became an
indispensable weapon in the struggle for life and survival. Despite
increasing state repression Zimbabwean popular theatre survived and
thrived, albeit in a limited way. The subordinate groups’ desire to
express a counter-ideological and cultural aesthetic geared towards
the creation of a new, dynamic social reality also kept popular theatre
alive during this critical historical moment. In this sense popular
theatre not only depicted the crisis, but it also actively participated in
the struggle for democracy and social change. It also provided both
audiences and practitioners with hope and healing, as well as the
necessary knowledge they needed to make informed decisions. In
spite of consistent repression, harassment, torture, detentions and
arrest, Zimbabwean popular theatre survived in the teeth of
repressive state power for a whole decade. To a large extent popular
theatre artists came to represent the spirit and substance of
democracy, human rights, social equity and social change in 21st-
century Zimbabwe.

POPULAR THEATRE ARTISTS AS PUBLIC WATCHDOGS

As the post-independence Zimbabwean state transformed into a
repressive and belligerent regime, popular theatre artists became
more emboldened and revolutionary. To counter the overwhelming
state hegemony, popular theatre practitioners assumed a new role as
226 PRAISE ZENENGA

defenders of freedom of expression at the turn of the 21st century.

For most popular theatre activists,

Defending freedom of expression is about defending a way of life. It is

about defending democracy. When freedom of expression vanishes or
weakens, democracy will suffer the same fate. …We all know the
results of the death of democracy. We have seen in the past that when
democracy dies, it often takes hundreds, even tens of thousands of lives
with it (Canton, 2002).

In their new role as public watchdogs, popular theatre companies

such as Rooftop, Amakhosi, Savannah Arts and Vhitori
Entertainment emerged not only as the safeguards of democracy but
also as the fearless guardians of the people. Just like the independent
press, popular theatre in Zimbabwe served as an “an effective
counterbalance to an overly powerful executive, opening a space in
which other democratic institutions can mature and eventually
become effective counterweights to executive power” (Canton,
2002). This means that popular theatre also emerged as one of the
most important institutions that provided checks and balances on
government and individuals.
The making of popular theatre involves an investigative stage
where practitioners, such as investigative journalists, bring to light
truths about the country’s economic and socio-political realities
which the authorities systematically try to hide from the public.
Popular theatre allows the civic population access to vital
information they need to make informed decisions and choices. For
example, political satires such as Rooftop Promotions’ Rags and
Garbage (2002) and Amakhosi Theatre’s Members Only (1997)
often bring into critical focus corrupt authorities and individuals who
engage in illegal or abusive acts that are detrimental to the national
welfare.
The ruling elite’s efforts to silence critical and dissenting voices
during the crisis decade strained the relationship between popular
theatre and the state. As the crisis deepened, the state crafted
legislation to empower the police, secret service, national arts
council, the ruling party’s war veterans, militias and vigilante groups
to police and censor Zimbabwe's media-cultural space (Ravengai,
2008). As a result popular theatre companies such as Rooftop,
Amakhosi, Savannah Arts and Vhitori Entertainment were subjected
to political harassment with respect to controversial material. Popular
theatre artists and journalists, in particular, feared the government’s
 A VOICE IN THE TEETH OF POWER 227

revival of draconian colonial laws. “Murders, assaults, threats and

intimidation not only silence the individual popular theatre and media
practitioner, they also have a profound effect on the individual’s
colleagues, generating a climate of fear and self-censorship” (Canton,
2002). Consequently most popular theatre companies imposed a tight
self-censorship of political material and specialized only in apolitical
subjects and the few areas of cooperation between popular theatre
and the state such as the prevention of HIV/AIDS and other health-
related issues as well as the promotion of national unity. On the other
hand, artists opposed to the state became targets for violence, arrests,
detention and intimidation aimed at silencing them. To silence its
critics the Zimbabwean state not only responded with ruthless force,
but also with more censorship laws bent on making political theatre
illegal.
In order to suppress political theatre during the crisis decade the
Zimbabwean state frequently used three main pieces of legislation
with colonial roots. To date three pieces of legislation have been used
to censor theatre and performance in Zimbabwe. Most notably,
sections of the Law and Order (Maintenance) Act (LOMA) (1955)
re-crafted as the Public Order and Security Act (POSA) (2002), the
Access to Information and Protection of Privacy Act (AIPPA)
(2002), and the Private Voluntary Organizations (PVO) Act (1967)
directly affect political theatre in that they severely restrict
internationally recognized rights to freedom of expression,
association and assembly. In other words, these laws give state
officials and agents sweeping powers not only to sanction all public
gatherings (including popular theatre performances), but also to
disperse any gatherings deemed to be political. The Zimbabwean
state has not only retained the colonial infrastructure of repression,
but has over the last 30 years of independence reformed all repressive
laws and their provisions, and introduced a flurry of amendments to
the Constitution to counter any opposition voices.
Zimbabwe’s repressive censorship and security laws not only
infringe upon constitutional rights, but also violate civil liberties,
particularly freedom of expression, assembly, communication and
association. During the crisis decade Amakhosi, Rooftop and
Savannah Arts popular theatre artists experienced regular
intimidation, arbitrary arrests, beatings and torture at the hands of the
Zimbabwean police and other state security agents. For example,
within a space of two weeks in June 2007 police banned two plays in
Zimbabwe’s second largest city of Bulawayo. Prominent
228 PRAISE ZENENGA

playwrights Raisedon Baya’s Everyday Soldier and Cont Mhlanga’s

The Good President were banned because they depict police beating
up opposition activists and politicians, while an HIV/AIDS activist
character on the police’s wanted list disappears under mysterious
circumstances. Amakhosi’s Executive Artistic Director Cont
Mhlanga describes the censorship and blockage his company endured
at the hands of Zimbabwean police:

Only one script, “Every Day Solder,” was requested by the Officer
Commanding and he brought it back full of red ink after he had gone
through it and underlined all the dialogue that he considered political.
Two days later he called the producer to his office and said, “In that
play I read two days ago, why did the character disappear in the story?
The police are looking for him and then he disappears. That is not good.
You mean police make people disappear. No that can’t be in the play.
Go and remove that character in the story or make him not to disappear.
If you don’t, we will come and stop that play from playing.” The play
did not play (Mhlanga, 2007).

These two plays were banned under POSA because the

performances allegedly contained “abusive, indecent, obscene and/or
false public statements causing people to be hostile to, or
contemptuous of, or disrespectful of the police” and the artists faced
a two-year prison term if convicted, with an option of a fine.
Similarly, in Harare, the country’s capital city, Rooftop Promotions’
Super Patriot and Morons (2004) and Savannah Arts Trust’s The
Final Push (2007) were banned because they violated certain
sections of POSA which prohibit “public statements or behaviour
causing people to hate, ridicule, be hostile to, or contemptuous of the
person or Office of (acting) State President” (Public Order and
Security Act, 2002). The playwrights, producers and performers
responsible faced a one-year prison term if convicted, with an option
of paying a fine. As creative artists, however, popular theatre
practitioners in Zimbabwe devised several strategies to get around
state censorship.

POPULAR THEATRE STRATEGIES USED TO EVADE

CENSORSHIP
Although the censorship that was widespread during the crisis decade
threatened to destroy the natural development7 of Zimbabwean
popular theatre, it effectively spurred a new avant-garde movement.
The overt and covert censorship of popular theatre in turn gave birth
 A VOICE IN THE TEETH OF POWER 229

to open and surreptitious performance strategies as practitioners

voiced dissent in the teeth of power. As the most repressive period in
post-independence Zimbabwe, the crisis decade also turned out to be
the most fertile creative era in Zimbabwean theatre history. During
this critical period Zimbabwean popular theatre artists came up with
new strategies of evading censorship that came to be known as ‘Hit
and Run Theatre’ and ‘Panic Theatre’ (see Wrolson, 2009; Zenenga,
2010). These forms constitute a unique blend of avant-garde political
theatre, derived not only from indigenous Zimbabwean theatrical
practices and traditional folklore, but also from other revolutionary
performance practices from Africa and the outside world. Hit and
Run Theatre and Panic Theatre constitute an avant-garde of
necessity8 because the crisis-laden environment compels artists to
push boundaries. In other words, popular theatre artists experiment
with new forms not just because they are tired of old forms, but their
increasingly repressive situation calls for ingenious ways of
conveying important political messages without incurring state
retribution.

HIT AND RUN THEATRE

In Zimbabwean theatre history Hit and Run Theatre represents the
most ingenious form of artistic resistance to increasing state
surveillance, harassment, arrest, persecution and censorship of
political performances in the last decade. Although Hit and Run
Theatre bears its own distinct aesthetic intentions and unique formal,
structural and thematic characteristics, it also represents the
convergence of a variety of aesthetic interactions and exchanges
between Zimbabwe and other parts of Africa and the outside world.
It is important to analyze these dynamic aesthetic exchanges and
interactions as well as Hit and Run Theatre’s aesthetic characteristics
and artistic traditions. Hit and Run Theatre contrasts sharply with
other protest forms that are reliant upon sequestered spaces or coded
language to critique the establishment.9
Hit and Run Theatre’s performances are necessarily ephemeral
and time-dependent. In an interview with the Savannah Arts activists,
Hit and Run Theatre’s distinctive time-reliant character becomes
immediately apparent; “The ideal running time for a standard Hit and
Run performance should not exceed 15 minutes.”10 The key strategy
in Hit and Run Theatre is to convey the message within the shortest
possible time. Time is of great significance in Hit and Run Theatre.
Shortening the duration of the performance allows artists to get away
230 PRAISE ZENENGA

before authorities figure out what they are doing and who they are at
election time. The hit-and-run strategies and tactics give popular
theatre activists just enough time to complete their performance and
escape from the scene before authorities figure out that a politically
charged performance has just taken place. This theatrical practice
aptly derives its name from the idea of running away from the scene
of an accident without identifying oneself. Although the name Hit
and Run denotes criminal activity in legal terms, Zimbabwean theatre
activists transformed its meaning to describe revolutionary action
based on what Scott terms the “fugitive political conduct of
subordinate groups.”11 As such, the name Hit and Run aptly describes
the aesthetic and pedagogical philosophies behind this new theatrical
form.
As an activity that runs counter to state hegemony, Hit and Run
Theatre not only strives to break all the expected norms, but also
strives for seclusion and invisibility. Zimbabwe’s state and quasi-
state security agents, militias and vigilante groups, who set up bases
in almost every ward, district and neighbourhood to coerce the
electorate and intimidate opposition supporters and activists at
election time during the crisis decade, comprised one of the world's
most ubiquitous censorship machines. In a country where the state
invades every sphere of the public domain to regulate and monitor all
gatherings, it becomes imperative for theatre artists to hit and run
before the police and other government security agents come to
remove “unwanted”12 members of the public from public spaces.
Popular theatre artists operating in such a highly censored and
restrictive environment resort to unsanctioned performances and
strive not to reveal their identities to authorities and audiences.
What makes Hit and Run Theatre such a risky enterprise is that it
challenges performers to open performances up for public
observation, while at the same time they have to focus more on
eluding the authority’s gaze. Like Boal’s Invisible Theatre, Hit and
Run “is a tricky business, because outcomes can hardly be taken for
granted. Conflict is inherent – often conflict involving explosive
issues” (Burstow, 2008: 275) such as political violence, corruption,
regime change, promotion and protection of good governance, human
rights, the rule of law and democracy. In the Zimbabwean context,
where state security agents could and still can easily invoke POSA
and order performances to stop any form of gathering and to disperse
immediately, Hit and Run became the ideal theatrical form. The
Zimbabwean state’s well-oiled machinery of censorship and control
 A VOICE IN THE TEETH OF POWER 231

found Hit and Run Theatre one of the most elusive cultural practices.
As an invisible cultural force, Hit and Run targets specific
institutions, systems and individuals within the establishment. It is
deeply rooted in an aesthetic philosophy that integrates creativity,
stealth, performance and revolutionary culture in radical ways.

PANIC THEATRE
In the context of state censorship and surveillance, many theatre
activists pursue the art of resistance through the subterfuge of
entertainment and comedy. Political satire, in particular, became an
important component of the avant-garde movement during the crisis
decade. Satire is an artistic mode “that exposes the failings of
individuals, institutions, [state] or society to ridicule and scorn”
(Baldick, 1990: 198). For example, Rooftop’s political satires such as
Ganyau Express (2000), Waiters 4 (2002), and Rags and Garbage
(2002) are not just simple comedies, but are coded critiques of the
post-independence nationalist regime’s failures. These political
satires came to be known as Panic Theatre or Urgent Theatre
because, in attacking the establishment, they not only called attention
to the regime’s vices and follies, but also highlighted the urgency of
international help and intervention to redress the crisis. Panic Theatre
amounts to satirical avant-garde performance in the way in which it
criticizes not only the political establishment, but also various
phenomena in economic life, religion and many other aspects of
society.
During the crisis decade popular theatre artists came up with
creative ways of drawing the world’s attention to atrocities
committed against ordinary citizens in Zimbabwe. Panic Theatre
arose out of the dire need to alert the world to the extreme political
violence in Zimbabwe, culminating in deaths, mutilations, torture and
destruction of property especially during election time. Creators of
this new theatrical form aptly called it Urgent Theatre, because it
responded to an emergency situation. Also known as Panic Theatre,
this performance practice amounts to an urgent call for help under
critical circumstances. Although the main objective is transformation,
the key strategy in Panic Theatre is to communicate and publicize
political issues that local authorities prohibit to the subordinated
populace and also to the world at large. In essence, Panic Theatre
blends traditional satirical public performance practices with forms
drawn from other world cultures.
232 PRAISE ZENENGA

Panic Theatre or Urgent Theatre derives from the kurova

bembera (indirect lampoon) public performance tradition in
Zimbabwe, which is intended not only to appeal for public help in
emergency situations, but also uses circumspection to name and
shame perpetrators of any social ills (Wrolson, 2009: 29). Joy
Wrolson also situates panic theatre within Zimbabwe’s nhimbe
tradition in which communal or co-operative work gangs jestingly
expose and castigate socially deviant behaviour through indirection.
Panic Theatre’s strength lies in its ability to use popular traditional
protest forms of circumspection and double entendre to evade
censorship and to comment on the political situation, while
advocating for change at the same time. Throughout the crisis decade
these strategies enabled popular theatre artists to remain below the
censorship radar as they continued to capture and depict the ever-
changing stream of the country’s geopolitical and economic spheres.
Although the public satirical performances traditionally
functioned to pick on and lampoon wayward parties in a marital
crisis or social crisis, they also served political purposes and were
artfully used to rebuke even the most dictatorial feudal leaders. The
panic element, intended to draw urgent attention to pressing socio-
political issues, is to a large extent steeped in a variety of local
performance traditions that provide relevant checks and balances in
society. In Zimbabwe Panic Theatre often escapes censorship
because it deploys universal satirical devices such as irony, wit,
metaphors and indirection to expose, ridicule and attack the failures,
follies of the nationalist leadership, public figures and society in
general. A defining characteristic of this new brand of political
theatre “is the use of metaphor, innuendo, and double entendre,
within which lies the power-laden potential for political
manoeuvring” (Askew, 2002: 107). Such forms of indirection
empower popular theatre activists to conduct radical political
discourse in the face of authority.
The fact that wit, irony, innuendo and metaphors can open up
performances to multiple interpretations implies that Panic Theatre’s
political critique also relies on the audience’s ability to decode the
hidden transcripts. However, given a tradition of Zimbabwean satire,
popular theatre activists can be fairly confident that audiences will
understand the political implications of their work within the given
contexts. Scott describes such modes of protest performances as “a
politics of disguise and anonymity that takes place in public view but
is designed to have a double meaning or to shield the identity of the
 A VOICE IN THE TEETH OF POWER 233

actors” (Scott, 1990: 19). In practice political satire can effectively

escape censorship when the subordinate audiences are keyed into the
cultural codes and meaning frequencies which exclude the dominant
nationalist elites.
Most popular theatre activists operating in Zimbabwe during the
crisis decade figured that overt political criticism not only led to state
reprisals but also made their targeted middle-class audiences nervous.
Double-coded plays like Rooftop Theatre’s Rags and Garbage
(2002) and Pregnant with Emotion (2006) are not only highly artistic
productions, but are also conscious endeavours intended to manage
and balance state and audience responses. Operating in a politically
polarized context, where spaces for open political criticism are
heavily censored, popular theatre artists in Zimbabwe often maintain
an interesting pattern whereby a particularly hard-hitting, angry and
bitter performance is followed by one that is gentler, softer or less
critical.
Panic Theatre as a form of political satire strives to transform
society in various ways. Whether it seeks political reform through
gentle and broadly sympathetic laughter as in Rags and Garbage and
Pregnant with Emotion, or bitter and angry attacks, as in Rooftop’s
Super Patriots and Morons, Amakhosi’s The Good President (2007)
and Savannah Arts Trust’s Decades of Terror (2007), Panic
Theatre’s main objective is social transformation. Beneath the
entertaining lampoon – sarcasm, irony, ridicule, burlesque, wit and
humour – Panic Theatre performances raise serious political issues
such as corruption, democracy, tolerance, regime change, rights,
repression, poverty, land redistribution and other economic problems
facing Zimbabwe at the turn of the 20th century.
Panic theatre’s rootedness in traditional jests, trickster stories,
innuendo, rumour, gossip, jokes and other indigenous satirical
performance practices enables theatre activists to assume multiple
identities. Satire “is at once an act of judgment, aggression, play and
laughter. The satirist melds roles of judge, castigator, jester and
trickster, a rich mix of roles” (Test, 1991: 30). Such an amphibian
identity enables popular theatre artists to escape censorship,
surveillance and persecution as they move between political activism
and playful entertainment. The state usually finds it difficult to
categorize theatre artists as political activists and prosecute them
under the harsh security and media laws. With their mixed cultural
identity, popular theatre artists can easily claim that they are mere
harmless comedians, jesters, clowns or entertainers who are out to
234 PRAISE ZENENGA

make people laugh, rather than activists bent on inciting people.

Consequently the state has never successfully convicted any popular
theatre artists under the repressive legislation in spite of the
numerous arrests and detentions of theatre activists that characterized
the crisis decade.

TOWARDS A THEATRE OF NATIONAL HEALING AND

RECONCILIATION: CONCLUSION AND FUTURE
PROSPECTS
During the crisis decade increasing reprisals against civilians’ acts of
resistance called for intense conscientization and mobilization for
democratic revolution. Although the ubiquitous and overwhelming
organs of state repression and censorship across Zimbabwe
threatened to silence all opposition voices, some revolutionary
popular theatre artists fashioned strategies for voicing dissent, as
shown above. Although opposition voices tended to be rendered
powerless in the face of power, popular theatre artists created new
strategies reliant upon space, time and language to voice dissent. For
Zimbabwean popular theatre artists the necessity to voice dissent and
speak the truth in a context of overwhelming state hegemony spurred
creative ingenuity and an inventive spirit which gave birth to new
forms of radical theatrical practice. These cutting-edge performance
forms, which include Urgent Theatre and Hit and Run Theatre, rank
as some of the most ingenious ways of evading official censorship or
retribution in Zimbabwean and African theatre history.
Popular theatre as it is practised today in Zimbabwe “constitutes
a mixture of diverse traits drawn from multiple sites and multiple
time periods… and it is continually adapting to the historical
contingencies of the moment” (Askew, 2002: 99). Overtly and
covertly popular theatre in Zimbabwe serves political purposes and
quite directly enables political action. The highly repressive political
context of the crisis decade required popular theatre activists to find
new, creative ways of operating and surviving. In such
circumstances some popular theatre artists made serious ethical
compromises in order to survive. Singing the praises of the autocratic
regime became a routine business practice for most. While some
popular theatre artists collaborated with the state, others such as
Amakhosi Theatre, Rooftop Theatre and Savannah Arts Theatre
turned into prominent voices of opposition. Hit and Run Theatre and
Panic Theatre are some of the novel strategies that popular theatre
 A VOICE IN THE TEETH OF POWER 235

artists living and working in a highly hostile, uncertain, unstable and

undemocratic political terrain devised over the years to evade
censorship and ensure pragmatic survival as well as artistic
advancement.
The first decade of the 21st century witnessed a worldwide
growth in human rights and democratic trends. Although
Zimbabwe’s nationalist regime headed in the opposite direction,
internal and external efforts to end the decade-long crisis have
yielded positive results. Through regional mediation, the two parties
– the Zimbabwe African National Union Patriotic Front (ZANU-PF)
and the Movement for Democratic Change (MDC), together with a
third break-away faction from the MDC– formed a Government of
National Unity (GNU) in February 2009. Although the new GNU is
still fraught with power struggles, mistrust and resistance from anti-
coalition hardliners, popular theatre is again playing an important
role in promoting constitutional reform as well as national unity,
healing, reconciliation and reconstruction. As Zimbabwe emerges
from a decade fraught with political violence and intense social and
economic tension, both the GNU and popular theatre artists are
joining hands to restore peace and stability in the country.
Since constitutional flaws constituted the core of the
Zimbabwean crisis, creating a new constitution was proposed as part
of unlocking the political impasse among the conflicting parties in
Zimbabwe. The GNU has initiated a broad-based consultative
process to create a new people-driven constitution. Participatory
forms of popular theatre help communities to engage actively in the
constitution-making process. In particular, indigenized forms of
Augusto Boal’s Forum Theatre13 provide a consultative platform for
the subordinate groups to engage with multiple other stakeholder
groups and principals of the GNU on key policy interventions for the
new constitution. In addition to a plethora of national, provincial,
district, as well as divisional stakeholders’ consultative forums,
workshops and meetings, theatre performances also function to
ensure inclusiveness and broad-based participation in the
constitution-making process. In particular Stephen Chifunyise’s play
Waiting for the Constitution (2010) not only complements the
Constitutional Parliamentary Committee’s (COPAC’s) outreach
programmes, but also turns out to be an integral part of the whole
consultative process. The use of participatory forms of popular
theatre functions as a broad consultation process aiming at re-writing
236 PRAISE ZENENGA

a Zimbabwean constitution that reflects the will of the majority of the

people and guarantees democratic general elections in future.
While the transition to a post-conflict dispensation requires
crafting a new constitution to deal with problems and challenges
arising from the crisis, Zimbabwe is also in dire need of national
healing and reconciliation. In a bid to eradicate political violence and
intolerance in Zimbabwe, the GNU appointed three full-time
Ministers of State to head a new Ministry of National Healing and
oversee the National Healing Organ. The GNU officially gazetted
and dedicated July 24, 25 and 26 every year to national healing,
reconciliation and integration. On the theatrical stage, healing,
reconciliation and reconstruction are back again in the limelight as
part of a national process of renouncing political violence. Just as
during the early years of independence, popular theatre once again
serves as a force and a voice for working around political differences
to find common ground, while upholding and advancing democratic
principles. Several popular theatre artists use Forum and Testimonial
theatrical forms to unite Zimbabweans around common-ground
approaches to peace, stability, democracy and development.
Steven Chifunyise’s play Heal the Wounds (2009) provides a
much needed forum for Zimbabweans of diverse backgrounds,
generations, and religious and political beliefs to search for the best
way to heal the emotional, psychological and physical wounds, and
to reconcile the country after years of polarization. While pitting the
young against the old, the play’s multilayered conflicts not only
depict rural people in opposition to the urbanites, but also set staunch
believers of traditional religion against Christian conservatives.
Although Heal the Wounds raises important questions on the best
way to go about the healing and reconciliation processes, the play
does not provide solutions to the intense debate on how the
programme must be carried out. While some characters call for a
blanket amnesty for the perpetrators of political violence, others
demand justice for the victims. The play’s open-endedness is
designed to involve the audience in contributing towards the ongoing
national debate on the best way to achieve healing, reconciliation,
forgiveness, peace and unity.
In post-apartheid South Africa and post-genocide Rwanda theatre
has played an important role in the healing and reconciliation
processes and allowed for victims and perpetrators to open up,
forgive each other and learn to co-exist in a post-crisis dispensation.
“The theatre is perhaps second only to the courtroom as a forum for
 A VOICE IN THE TEETH OF POWER 237

therapeutic testimony about previous trauma before a roomful of

witnesses” (Herren, 2010: 111). Similarly, theatre functions as a
forum for narrating, witnessing and healing trauma in a post-crisis
Zimbabwe. Although Chifunyise’s Heal the Wounds serves as a form
of collective therapy, popular theatre also has the capacity to focus on
the individual and his or her personal story. Over the years
Zimbabwean popular theatre artists have experimented with the one-
man/woman genres in plays such as Raisedon Baya’s Rags and
Garbage (2002) and Daves Guzha’s The Two Leaders I Know
(2008). Through interweaving personal narratives and history, these
one-man/woman plays demonstrate the potential for theatre to clear a
way for truth, healing, reconciliation and hope.
Graley Herren highlights the ability of one-man/woman plays to
interweave individual and collective memories, and argues that “the
social medium of theatre constitutes a crucial breakthrough from
solitary, traumatic (non-)memory to social, narrative memory” (2010:
111). Although based on personal stories, these one-man/woman
plays transcend the individual and meld into humankind’s narrative.
With audiences as witnesses, these one-man/woman productions
explore real-life experiences of trauma, truth, healing, reconciliation
and unity. At the dawn of the 21st century Zimbabwean theatre stands
to continue with its experimental tradition and blossom into a multi-
genre practice that tackles the burning issues of the day. No matter
how repressive and anti-free speech African regimes might be in the
21st century, popular theatre artists will continue to find new and
creative strategies to express dissent in the teeth of power.

NOTES

1 In Domination and the Arts of Resistance: Hidden Transcripts

(1990) James C. Scott uses the phrase “in the teeth of power” to
refer to occasions when groups subjected to structural domination
directly express insubordination in the face of authorities using
surreptitious discourses and other disguised forms. The phrase
aptly applies to the way Zimbabwean popular theatre artists devise
clandestine strategies to evade censorship, directly voicing
opposition in front of authorities.
2 These are disguised forms of resistance and defiance intended to
avoid incurring the unrelenting wrath of the establishment through
its ubiquitous forms of political censorship.
238 PRAISE ZENENGA

3 As political polarization and dissent grew during the crisis decade,

the Zimbabwean state evoked colonial media and censorship laws,
resulting in a sharp rise in the number of reported cases involving
harassment, arrests, detention, persecution and censorship of
political theatre artists and activists.
4 According to Augusto Boal’s categorization, “Theatre of the
Oppressed started its development during the cruellest phase of the
Brazilian dictatorship; its first manifestation was the Newspaper
Theatre. It continued through various dictatorial Latin American
regimes during which time some of its other forms emerged –
Forum Theatre, Invisible Theatre, Image Theatre (19971-76)”
(Boal, 1998, 4-5).
5 See the section entitled “Spreading the Idea of Community
Theatre” in Chifunyise et al., 1991: 3.
6 For detailed accounts of how liberation war parties in Zimbabwe
deployed theatre for revolutionary purposes, see Kaarsholm (1994:
225-52) and Kidd (1984).
7 This refers to the evolution of Zimbabwean theatre in response to
the usual or normal course of history. It implies that theatre strives
to represent the Zimbabwean reality faithfully without tempering,
conditioning or altering the narrative to comply with the dominant
hegemonic discourses.
8 For an in-depth discussion of these Zimbabwean avant-garde
theatrical forms see Zenenga (2011).
9 Scott (1990) and De Certeau (1984) discuss the linguistic and
spatial modes of the particular ways in which resistance operates in
the social practice.
10 Interview with Savannah Arts Artists.
11 See Scott, 1990: xii.
12 It is unwanted” only from the authority’s perspective: a Hit and
Run Theatre performance brings together audiences and
disseminates information deemed political without clearance from
the local police. According to Zimbabwean authorities, an
unsanctioned theatrical assemblage constitutes an illegal political
gathering and is tantamount to an opposition political meeting.
13 Augusto Boal, the Brazilian theatre director and activist, developed
a highly participatory theatrical form known as Forum Theatre with
the main objective of empowering audiences through dialogue and
interactive role-playing. Forum Theatre presents audiences with an
opportunity to replace the protagonist and offer their own
perspectives on scenes and situations presented. Zimbabwean
popular theatre artists often adapt techniques and strategies of
Boal’s Forum Theatre in line with the dictates of their cultural
codes, communication norms and political climate to provide
 A VOICE IN THE TEETH OF POWER 239

platforms for performers and audiences to jointly explore solutions

to problems posed.

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Hoffman, Barbara. 1991. A Tribute to Justice Brennan. Art Journal, Special

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Theatre and the San Francisco Mime Troupe. Jackson: University Press
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_____. 1985. Weapons of the Weak: Everyday Forms of Peasant Resistance.

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CHAPTER 9

CITIZENS’ STORIES – OR THEATRE AS

PERFORMING CITIZENSHIP IN ZIMBABWE
VIBEKE GLØRSTAD

INTRODUCTION: THEATRE AS SITE FOR CITIZENSHIP

STRUGGLES
Since independence community theatre in Zimbabwe has taken upon
itself a critical role as a form of mass medium. In this article I will
look at how a selection of plays also ‘performs citizenship’ in this
process and in this way argue that theatre can be used to investigate
the processes of citizenship. Applied drama can be seen as an
expression of radical democratic citizenship, where drama works to
extend the horizon of experience, recognizing how identities have
been shaped and formulated. By expressing new roles and inhabiting
different subject positions, and finding different points of
identification with others, theatre takes part in the politics of
recognition, which is essentially what citizenship processes are
about. First I will elaborate on the concept of citizenship as process.
Secondly I consider how theatre generally has responded to the social
and political context in Zimbabwe. The major part of the chapter will
discuss examples of how some selected plays are really representing
positions for new ways of practising citizenship.

CITIZENSHIP AS A PROCESS
Over the last two decades a consensus has developed that citizenship
must also be defined as a social process through which individuals
and social groups are involved in claiming, expanding or losing
rights. This can be seen as a supplement to the ordinary under-
standing of the concept of citizenship, which refers to the status one
has as a member of a national state and describing how certain rights
and obligations are allocated to the individual under the authority of
244 VIBEKE GLØRSTAD

the state with respect to civil, political and social rights (Isin &
Turner, 2002: 3).
Increasingly researchers point to the fact that, depending on the
way it is thought about and acted on, citizenship has systematically
made certain groups stranger and outsiders; these groups would
include women, ethnic minorities and political opponents. Therefore
a more sociologically informed definition of citizenship is argued for
here in which the emphasis is less on legal rules and more on norms,
practices, meanings and identities (Abah, 2005; Isin & Turner, 2002:
4). The concept of citizenship is used to describe struggles for
identity, recognition and rights in a broad sense – both for naturalized
citizens and immigrants.
It is hardly necessary to say that African politics are quite as
enmeshed in the politics of recognition as the more familiar examples
from Europe and North America, although this point is often ignored
in mainstream academic discussions in Europe (Englund, 2004).
Generally the politics of recognition is described as revolving around
identity, understood as the self-image of individuals and groups. This
includes also the feeling of being neglected or excluded. Englund
(2004: 2) argues that if the source of oppression is misrecognition,
then redress is as likely to affect the identity of those in power as
those seeking recognition. One could argue that the politics of
recognition revolves around the different dimensions of citizenship
rights and also tries to transcend the more static notion of citizenship;
in fact the politics of recognition is the expression of citizenship as
practice and process.
A re-conceptualization of the concept of citizenship, which
includes citizenship as practice, is provided by Gouws (2005: 03),
who discusses feminist citizenship in South Africa. She describes
citizenship as both a status and a practice or form of agency. The
challenge is to transform the practice of citizenship from being an
isolated practice of juridically defined individuals with rights to the
recognition of participation, i.e. the processes of citizenship.
Citizenship as participation includes activities in political arenas such
as national and local government, civil society such as social
movements, and formal and informal organisations.

THEATRE AND CITIZENSHIP

Increasingly the notion of citizenship as practice is discussed in
relation to theatre; for example, Nicholson (2005) discusses three
ways that applied drama could be linked to the practice of
 CITIZENS’ STORIES 245

citizenship. She makes an analytical distinction between theatre as

participant citizenship with a radical approach, i.e. theatre involved
in the more social and domestic aspects of citizenship, and what she
calls ecological citizenships, where theatre is used to argue for more
environmental concerns. Her emphasis on theatre’s role in participant
citizenship points to citizenship as a process. Nicholson also refers to
the fact that the concept of citizenship is highly contested and its
interpretations reflect different ideological traditions. Drama as
linked to the officially sanctioned versions of citizenship education is
not the focus of Nicholson’s work; she argues that one should be
more concerned with drama related to the creative, unpredictable and
subversive acts of citizenship (2005: 20). Nicholson’s point of
departure is also that theories of the radicalization of democracy
inform the new citizenship struggles (Mouffe, 1992), referring to
political discourses aimed at resistance and social inclusion.

CONTEXT: THE CHALLENGES OF CITIZENSHIP IN

ZIMBABWE
In Zimbabwe after independence a large theatre movement developed
that had its roots in Rhodesian subculture and the liberation camps
which were established during the war of independence. This
movement took various forms, from simple propaganda tableaux to
theatre used as a forum for articulation, criticism and reconciliation,
i.e. debating the nature of people’s citizenship. The theatre groups
that were most explicit in their criticism had to face government
resistance (Kaarsholm, 1989; Rhomer, 1999). Several theatre
productions dealt with the disillusion after the euphoria of
independence in terms of what they experienced as “the betrayal of
the liberation war” (Plastow, 1996: 179). The government protested
when the criticism went too far. This became evident when
Amakhosi’s 1986 play Workshop Negative (Mhlanga, 1992; Mhlanga
interview 6.7.1999) was performed at the University of Zimbabwe
in1987 and was the first play to be banned by the new government
(Kaarsholm, 1990). The play challenged the way the government had
become impervious to criticism.
As indicated above, Zimbabwean citizens had been involved in
political and cultural struggles since the war of liberation which led
to independence in 1980. ZANU-PF (Zimbabwe African National
Union, Patriotic Front – referring to an alliance with another party,
ZAPU, during the liberation struggle), led by Robert Mugabe and
supported by the majority of the Shona population won the first
246 VIBEKE GLØRSTAD

elections in 1980. They won against ZAPU (Zimbabwe African

People’s Union), led by Joshua Nkomo and supported mainly by the
minority Ndebele populations in the south-west of Matabeleland.
After independence the record of social and economic development
was promising for the first few years, but early on there were already
signs of suppression of the opposition in the south-west, culminating
in the Matabeleland atrocities referred to as Gukurahundi, a Shona
phrase which means “the rain that washes away the chaff before the
spring comes” (Catholic Commission for Justice and Peace (CCJP),
1997: 45). Many thousands were brutally killed and tortured.
Finally a unity agreement between ZANU-PF and ZAPU was
signed whereby ZAPU and Joshua Nkomo were included in ZANU-
PF. Despite this, economic and social deterioration and political and
ethnic tensions continued, although ZANU-PF was giving up the idea
of a de jure one-party state.
In 1999 the first real challenge to ZANU-PF was established
through the new opposition party, the Movement for Democratic
Change (MDC). There were also serious attempts to make
democratic improvements to the constitution, but in a referendum on
the constitution in 2000 ZANU-PF’s suggestions were voted out as
too weak. ZANU felt that their power was threatened and so they
introduced new repressive legislation in 2002 to control political
forces (Public Order and Security Act, POSA) and the media (Access
to Information and Protection of Privacy Bill, AIPPA). There were
also attacks on white farmers and serious attacks against, including
the killing of, opposition members (International Crisis Group, 2008;
USA State Department, 2009). The worsening situation after 2000
affected political, economic, social and cultural conditions, and has
been described as the “The Zimbabwean crisis” (Hammar &
Raftopolous, 2003: 1). Political forces were using the media and
legislation to construct narrow identity categories; citizens were
defined according to political loyalty and credit for participation in
the war of liberation. The ‘Super-citizens’ were the party leadership,
loyal war veterans and the youth militia, all seen as legitimate
defenders of freedom. The political regime constructed internal
enemies who were accused of allying themselves with colonial and
imperial interests. Security legislation legitimized the naming of
anyone who opposed the regime as a ‘non-citizen’, who then became
targets of violence and were not afforded any protection. This led to a
“strategic narrowing of national identity and belonging” (Hammar
and Raftopolous, 2003: 28). In the parliamentary and presidential
 CITIZENS’ STORIES 247

elections in March 2008 Zimbabwe’s people clearly signalled their

rejection of the status quo by giving support to the opposition
candidate Morgan Tsvangerai (MDC). The government refused to
accept the result, but finally the opposition and government in
Zimbabwe came to an agreement about power sharing late in 2008
and a Unity Government was formed in 2009. There have been some
improvements in education and health and in combating
unemployment, but the political repression continues. The situation is
closely monitored by different NGOs as well as by theatre
practitioners. Playwrights and producers are supporting these new
processes of citizenship where increased involvement and
participation are the goal.

SUPERPATRIOTS AND MORONS

How is theatre challenging attempts to limit people’s democratic
participation and taking part in citizenship as practice and process? I
will first look at themes and practices of citizenship in the Rooftop
Promotions play Superpatriots and Morons (Raisedon Baya,
produced by Daves Guzha in 2004). The play is described as a
political satire which mirrors the government’s political party. It is
set in a country suffering from severe food shortages and there are
constant queues for food; this is coupled with a repressive
government infamous for using the state to silence dissenting voices.
The President hears rumours of people in queues and asks his
assistant to go and find the one who is organising people in an
uprising. His assistant meets people in desperate need of food and
shelter and picks out a young woman (Shami) in a queue for bread.
She is treated violently, but can’t tell anything about an uprising.
The opening scene is set in the presidential palace, “a seemingly
troubled, old, almost senile” man walks onto stage. He is the
Superpatriot and starts checking the newspapers while he is drinking
his whisky – “the opposition papers are nothing but a waste of
newsprint”. He displays his contempt for his people – and now he
suddenly hears voices: Voice 1: “You’ve failed. Failures must go and
must go now”. Voice 2: “Look around you. Queues. Shortages.
Hunger. Unemployment. Starvation. What next? Civil unrest?” The
Superpatriot answers: “I command you to leave me alone. Leave me
alone! Go away”. Voice 3: “Throw in the towel if you are a leader
who truly cares about the people”. Voice 1 again: “History! History
tells us that you have failed! Go while there is still time. Do not wait
to be pelted with stones or rotten eggs like the leader before you”.
248 VIBEKE GLØRSTAD

The Superpatriot’s answer, with the stage direction: (angry, he goes

around the table and starts pointing at the audience – one after one)
“I know who you really are! Yes, you are nothing but the devil’s
voice. Away with you! Puppets – sell outs Sell outs!” (Baya, 2009:
132).
The author Raisedon Baya is here setting the scene explicitly
with the Superpatriot as the leader, and the people and fellow citizens
as voices he knows are there. Their sense of their citizenship at this
time is only present as voices in his head. But the voices are quite
explicit about his performance as leader – asking him to leave and
pointing to the difficult conditions the country is in. The audience
are allowed to hear on the stage how they feel their identities and
lives are threatened – with the Superpatriot’s direct act of
misrecognition: “You are nothing but the devil’s voice”. Later in the
plays these voices turn into real characters and we see the citizens
themselves organising themselves against the Superpatriot.
Meanwhile the ridiculing of the leadership by way of the
character of Superpatriot increases. The Superpatriot feels so bad,
near a breakdown, that he calls his private henchman, Bazooka, and
tells him that “they want my blood”. He also calls his traditional
medicine man – a sangoma – who comes and praises him; “Great
leader, your patriotic Excellency, King of Africa, Terror of the neo-
colonialist!” (137). The sangoma throws his bones, but sees only
blood and bones – “I see bones hidden in caves, bushes, rivers and
shallow pits... The bones and blood continue to block my visions of
you – there is too much of it (...). I keep seeing something that is
disturbing. It cannot being said without incurring your wrath” (138,
139). The sangoma is voicing people’s criticism which they often do
not dare to say straight out; he is expressing the feeling of their denial
of identity and equal citizenship. The denial often takes the form
there of just a loud silence of inner protest and careful but angry talk
in what are believed to be ‘safe areas’.
Finally the sangoma says to the Super Patriot; “Behind the blood
I see you – You are in a queue, in a big dark jungle”. The
Superpatriot then asks: “... is Martin Luther King there too?”

Sangoma: None of the great ones. I see... Moi, Adolf Hitler.

Superpatriot (Fuming): Take this Moron away. He has insulted me.
Presidential Decree 88A on him! When a prophet fails to see the face of
the first citizen in his visions – then you know he is fake and a con
 CITIZENS’ STORIES 249

man... You have to be hopelessly useless not to see the first citizen
(140, 137)

In the draft Baya had written: “An unpatriotic bastard who is of no

national importance”. By this time the dramatist has introduced the
concepts of the first citizen, a super-patriot and unpatriotic citizens,
thereby opening up the political landscape and providing the
language for the audience to see how they have been neglected as full
citizens. Baya starts stimulating reflection on the processes of
citizenship here.

BREAD QUEUES
The Superpatriot calls his adviser Bazooka and wants him to go into
the street to talk with ordinary folk and find out what they think of
him – perhaps then his mind can have some rest. In this part the focus
shifts to three characters in a bread queue: Shami, a pregnant woman;
Looksmart, a young man in a T-shirt and an old pair of jeans; and an
old teacher (Okuru) in a battered suit.
We will see that these three characters are practising different
aspects of possible citizenship and that through these scenes
processes of citizenship are set in motion as the claim for recognition,
identity and common mobilisation is displayed. The teacher is the
one tired and silent, but taking responsibility; he first suggests a
public protest and helps Shami with her anger. Shami, the outspoken
woman is able to organize, and Looksmart the well educated young
man who can’t find a decent job. We will therefore also see the fault
lines of processes of citizenship.
The three citizens sing a powerful song about their suffering;
“the collapse of the business, of the economy, of the whole country
as a whole” and they all shout: “We want bread”. Shami says, “I am
not moving until I get bread. All I want is my bread. My children
have been crying since morning, hungry – that why I am queuing for
bread here” (Baya, 2009: 142 ff). The teacher tries to keep the queue
in order and Looksmart tries to move in front of Shami in the queue.
Suddenly Shami falls down in a faint. But people just jump over her
in a fight to take her place in the queue.
Raisedon Baya further shows how people start struggling against
each other, how the political system makes people not cooperate –
everyone is the enemy in the struggle for survival. And we see how
the Superpatriot uses Bazooka to find out what people feel. Bazooka
introduces himself: “Let’s say I am a patriotic citizen of this beautiful
country”. But Shami describes him as “The most equal, those who
250 VIBEKE GLØRSTAD

loot, plunder and eat on behalf of the whole country” (147). Bazooka
threatens Shami with arrest for “sowing seeds of discontent. Insulting
the respected office of the Superpatriot. Subversion. Inciting people
against the people’s government. Demonising the people’s
government. Anything the police can came up with! ... promoting
public disorder, endangering public safety or even disturbing the
comforts of the first Citizen of this country”. And Shami answers:
“Personally I am sick and tired of your so-called patriots. So drunk
with power, they are beginning to think they own their own country.
This country is not a private farm or a take away. It belongs to
people!” (148).
Shami is expressing her need for recognition – and in this way
how she feels ignored – or treated as a non-citizen. These processes
of becoming a citizen are still on the level of verbal protests, but
Shami takes it further. She says: “Let us mobilize other frustrated
people in queues and march towards Government Square banging our
empty stomachs and empty fuel containers” (157). Then Baya
presents a long discussion and shows the beautiful mobilization of a
protest march. They have all used their capacities as citizens in a
process of protesting – arguing for more equality.
But finally the Superpatriot’s assistant Bazooka intervenes and
Shami is arrested. As the Superpatriot says: “… if that woman is
doing what you say she is doing, then she is an enemy. Not only for
the party but also of this great nation. Either a person is with us or
against us. End of story.” And it turns out that Looksmart is a part of
the government’s Youth Brigade, spying on the mobilisation – he is
cadre Looksmart. He also says of the teacher” “… we got to him
alright. Dangling from his roof truss with a rope round his neck.
(Reporting to Bazooka) Not a good sight sir. Eyes popping out... his
trousers... messed up... eh!” (170).
Shami sums up to the Superpatriot: “All what the people wanted
with the petition was for you to consult them more often. The people
have answers to most of the problems we are facing”. But
Superpatriot answers: “Me getting advice from the people? Just what
do the people know about running a country?”. The play ends with
the Superpatriot still insisting on his power: “This is my country!
Mine! It’s my duty to protect it. It belongs to me alone; me alone.
Leave me! – The people love me. They want me to rule forever”
(Baya draft, p. 39) . He insists: “I am not going away. Never! Ever!
This is my country and it belongs to me. Go away! Keep away! This
is my country!” (Baya, 2009: 179).
 CITIZENS’ STORIES 251

The play Superpatriot and Morons leaves us perhaps in a

pessimistic mood, although we have seen people criticising and
mobilizing – seeing them in the process of developing real
citizenship as participants in their society. Raisedon Baya comments
the play:

What I basically was saying was some of the issues of the ordinary
people are being let down by our leadership. Their policies right now
are not really meant to benefit them. They are just policies meant to ...
(work like) ... more like smoke screen. They want to hide one problem
with, by creating another, you know (Raisedon Baya interview,
Bulawayo 31 July 2007).

Superpatriots and Morons was the first play to be banned since

Workshop Negative in 1987. This led to national and international
attention through the media, and I will later argue that the way in
which the government responded critically to the play also made
audiences even more aware of what kind of processes they were
engaged in as citizens.

THE GOOD PRESIDENT

Amakhosi Theatre, based in Bulawayo, presented The Good
President (written and directed by Cont Mhlanga, co-produced by
Rooftop Promotion in March 2007). The play went very well at
Theatre in The Park in Harare. But when the play premiered in
Bulawayo in the south-west of Zimbabwe, the police stormed the
performance and asked audience and actors to leave, because it was a
political gathering. A High Court judge ruled that certain unspecified
sections of the play undermine President Robert Mugabe’s authority.
Cont Mhlanga says people were very scared when the police entered
and although he tried to argue politely with the police, the police
were very firm in their action. To have the police intervening in a
performance in his hometown was a shock to the playwright
(Mhlanga interview, Bulawayo, 29 March 2010).
So how the play did challenge existing notions of citizenship?
One could interpret the play as a challenge to the way Zimbabwean
history has been written, with the Ndebele citizens in south-western
part of Zimbabwe – Matabeleland – being marginalized politically,
socially and culturally.
The play’s story is about an old woman Gogo, who comes to
town to get treatment for eyes and also see her grandsons Reza (a
252 VIBEKE GLØRSTAD

police officer) and Neto (running a safari). But by the time she wants
to go home again in time for the elections and vote for the current
president, she has run out of money. Gogo asks her grandson Neto
for money, but the boys cannot understand why she would want to
vote for the current president. She argues that ‘Father Zimbabwe’ –
Joshua Nkomo, the first Vice-President (ZAPU leader) – told them to
do so to maintain unity. He is called Father Zimbabwe because,
according to his followers, he tolerated differences of opinion.
As I mentioned at the beginning, ZAPU and Nkomo were
outmanoeuvred by ZANU-PF during the Matabeleland massacres of
ZAPU supporters in the 1980s. Nkomo was included in the ZANU-
PF government as a Vice-President. One could interpret this to mean
that he was being absorbed into the main party and was forced to ask
for unity for the sake of his own and his people’s survival.
Nevertheless, Gogo admires him so much that she still wants to
follow his advice for unity, even after Nkomo’s death in 1999.
Mhlanga’s argument in the play is about this loyalty as he makes
a plea for a wider notion of citizenship. Gogo shows how Reza and
Neto, although critical of the present government, have benefited
from the current leader’s politics. Reza is employed in the riot police
and has full support and receives various ‘benefits’. Neto, thanks to
the farm invasions, was able to have his game ranch. Gogo finally
decides to tell the men the real story about their respective fathers’
deaths. She has been keeping this story from them for a long time
because she trusted Father Zimbabwe’s word about maintaining
unity. It turns out that Reza and Neto don’t know that their fathers
were killed by ZANU-PF forces during the atrocities in the 1980s.
Gogo tells them:

They were shot for being in the leadership structures of Father

Zimbabwe’s opposition party. Your father was chairman of the district
and Reza’s father was the chairman of the branch. The other villagers
held different offices for the party. They were all killed for being in
opposition and for being a different tribe from this president (...). It was
around 10am on a Sunday when about 20 soldiers sent by this president
arrived at the homestead. They were force marching about four other
villagers. We ran into the bush and up the hill to hide. Your father and
Reza’s were at the cattle kraal treating a calf. We did not know they
were there and they did not see the soldiers coming. The solders caught
them. They shot ten cattle in the kraal, took them to the homestead and
burnt down all the eight huts. They now walked the seven villagers,
including your fathers, to the bush near the fields under the tree where
you grew up playing with your friends while you protected the crops
 CITIZENS’ STORIES 253

from the baboons. We watched from the hill. They shot all seven of
them (Mhlanga, 2007: 23).

The Good President opens with the same violent atmosphere that we
saw in Superpatriots and Morons. Mhlanga is showing the audience
the brutality they may see and feel as citizens. In the opening scene
the riot police loudly enter a rally in a high-density township with an
opposition candidate. A male police officer, Reza, is beating an
opposition leader in form of a puppet. Very ironically the puppet then
speaks and says: “So the regime has brainwashed you to the point
where you really believe that my supporters and I are puppets” (5).
Here Mhlanga refers to the experience of the opposition leader
Morgan Tsvangerai, who was brutally beaten by the police in 2007.
The male officer (Reza) answers: “I have a lot of kicking to do”. He
asks for beer from his female officer: “I need some energy” (6). Then
suddenly his wife calls on his phone: “I miss you, Reza; how are
things sweetie? ... I am at my favourite Hair Saloon. Please send me
700,000 dollars [Zimbabwean dollars – this was before US dollars
were introduced] for a new hair piece”. Reza ask why she does not go
to the local market: “Ahh Reza, me at the market. Haa and please add
money for a pizza sweetie’ (6). After arguing a while Reza gives up
and says: “Hawu Rosy! Rosy! Don’t hang up Rosy. Why are you
doing this to me? (...). He-e-. I am an idda sibili (real man) Rosy. If
you were here you could have seen what I have done to this puppet
leader of the opposition party Rosy” (9). He screams as he hurls the
puppet to the floor and kicks it, taking out his frustration on it. He
pulls it off stage as he kicks it, while yelling and screaming with
frustration (9).

THE BORN-FREES AND THE LIBERATION GENERATION:

THE LIBERATORS
Neto, Gogo’s grandson, is described as a rich safari owner, doing the
best under the current conditions, including shady business. Mhlanga
describes his house as expensively furnished with local fine art and
sculpture. Neto is described as having a big tummy, hat, glasses, tie
and briefcase. Neto has earned well in the safari business, thanks to
the government’s land policies of farm occupations. His children
have been able to go to schools in South Africa.
As in Superpatriots and Morons Mhlanga displays the mind of
the aggressors as he see it – and he take this even further than Baya,
because he also shows the assailants facing their dilemmas (as we
partly saw in the role of Looksmart in Superpatriots). Through
254 VIBEKE GLØRSTAD

representing Reza’s and Neto’s point of view, Mhlanga shows what

kind of possibilities or restraints they have as citizens in their moral
environment. It becomes possible to identify with Reza and Neto;
they are recognizable in a way – and we understand their anger and
confusion when Gogo arrives and finally start telling them her
stories.
Gogo arrives outside the councillor’s office to ask the councillor
for money, since Neto didn’t want to give her money. She is tired and
confused, talking and singing to herself: “Kanti manje ukukhansila
khansila ke. This is total frustration. Oh Joshua Mqabuko Nyongolo
Nkomo, where are you? You left your children suffering” (10). Then
suddenly Reza arrives from his work with the riot police; he is
embarrassed at seeing Gogo there and says to her: “Listen Gogo, …
it is your right to vote. I meant the bus fare. You can’t bring that to
the councillor… ha-a Bantu ... It’s lunatic Gogo”. Reza explains that
she first has to take this matter to the Mayor, then the MP, then the
Senator, then the Governor and then to President. Reza tries to
persuade Gogo to go home; finally he carries her home back to
Neto’s house again.
Mhlanga here again examines the concept and idea of
citizenship, which includes an old lady – and she is an outspoken one
at that. In this way he extends the concept of citizenship and
processes of citizenship to include the liberation generation as well as
the young, strong and well educated – the ‘born-frees’. Mhlanga
makes Gogo’s argument at first sight harmless and silly, but when
Gogo tell her own and the grandsons’ history about the liberation
war, in long and difficult talks in Neto’s home, she brings about a
kind of catharsis. Reza and Neto are arguing from their position of
citizenship at that moment, but through Gogo’s story they finally
arrive mentally at a moment of recognition. Reza says to her at the
end: “I am going out to the unknown world to find justice Gogo. The
day will come! Lizafika ilanga eliyisithuth” (24).
Gogo uses a folk story about the crocodile, giraffe and tortoise to
tells the story of the liberation struggle in her way. Mhlanga explains
that this is a twisted folk story, but reveals a broad conception of the
history of liberation in using the language of folk stories (Interview,
Bulawayo, 29 March 2010).
Gogo, in arguing with her grandsons, shows continually how
their successes and problems are consequences of the liberation
struggle, during which parts of the population were killed or
suppressed. She ends: “A beautiful country is the one that is built by
 CITIZENS’ STORIES 255

all citizens sharing and contributing to constructive solutions as a

way of moving the life of the ordinary citizen” (24). The play ends in
a moment of relief; Gogo sees that she doesn’t need to go back and
vote for the person she thought she had to vote for: “Ahh and now
that I have told you this story I now feel I can be myself again” (24).
Cont Mhlanga is a political writer; nevertheless, in his plays he
also creates spaces and possibilities for a reflection on participant
citizenship through exploring the minds of the characters within a
longer historical frame. The Good President extends the horizon of
experience and recognizes how identities have been shaped and
formulated by history. By expressing new roles and inhabiting
different subject positions, and finding different points of
identification with others – as the ‘excluded’ liberators – the
characters engage in the politics of recognition, which is essentially
what citizenship processes are about.
The closing down of the performance in Bulawayo drew
increased attention to the play and also generated a debate on
Amakhosi’s website. Mhlanga refused to water down the script:

There is nothing flowery and poetic about millions of people in the

country who cannot afford to put a single decent meal on the table for
their families on a daily bases… There is nothing flowery and poetic
about living in a country where you send your child to school to find the
head of a school with half their staff have left to work in another
country. The situation in the country is desperate for the majority of the
population and it demands some urgent action by all concerned
(Amakhosi Cultural Centre website).

I argue – as I also did with Superpatriots and Morons – that these

kinds of media debates after the play contribute towards the
construction of different positions for citizenship.
I finally turn to a play that was performed later – after the
presidential and parliamentary elections in 2008, which were
contested by both President Mugabe and opposition candidate
Morgan Tsvangerai, but where the opposition leader was not
recognised. It took several weeks before the government released the
results of the election and a run-off was expected. The Waiting deals
with this more topical – and at first sight more practical – ‘task’ of
citizenship ‘task’ , namely following up the results of the election.
256 VIBEKE GLØRSTAD

THE WAITING
The Waiting (2008, written by Raisedon Baya, directed by Cont
Mhlanga and produced by Nhimbe Trust) wanted to raise the issue of
voting and encourage the people not to be afraid to vote, and ends by
presenting the situation while waiting for the results of the voting.
The play was performed in several towns, but had to stop touring
because of a tense political situation (Nyampimbi, interviews). The
Waiting is set in a high-density township in the period just before and
after the elections, describing the tense atmosphere because people
didn’t know what was happening because the government would not
announce the results. The pay also asks what would happen if they
did try to vote for the opposition again? Will the Youth Brigade
come and kill them? We meet Comrade Musha, a war veteran
member of ZANU-PF and Mabhata, a leading member of the MDC.
Dube is an honest villager whom we meet in the beer hall; he also
dares to criticize the opposition. Amai Thobi is the fourth character –
a lady and street vendor who shows an alternative position of
citizenship. Amai Thobi and Dube depict an ‘in-between position’
between the dominant political position and opposition politics. They
show an additional position of ways of performing citizenship, and
broaden the picture found in Superpatriots and Morons and The
Good President.
The scenes are connected by means of a TV reporter from the
Zimbabwe Broadcasting Company (ZBC), who announces the
situation around the election, like this one right after the election:
“Today all eyes are on Zimbabwe as its roads lead to the ballot box.
The campaign has been peaceful. The playing field is almost level”
(Baya, 2008: 7). But several days after the election the report is: “1,
2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11 days and still no election results. The
election commission is still trying to verify the results. The ruling
party is already talking about a run-off, while the opposition claims it
has won the elections. The atmosphere is tense. The opposition has
gone to the court to try and force the election commission to release
the result” (7). The plays ends with all of the characters still waiting
for the results of the election. In the words of an anonymous man
from the crowd: “We are waiting. The people are waiting. They have
been waiting for a long time. Not for election results but for
something more. A decisive leadership that will lead a people’s
revolution” (Baya, 2008: 19).
 CITIZENS’ STORIES 257

In the opening scene we meet Musha, the war veteran, and

Mabhata, the leading member of the MDC. They argue in the
expected way:

CDE Musha: Zimbabwe is ours for keeps. The land is ours, so are the
wealth and natural resources in it. And so anyone who wants to take
that land and the wealth away from us will have to kill us first.
Mabataha: The land belongs to the people. Not to one or the Ruling
Party. We are saying to Sekura and other Sekurus around him,
including you, you have played your role. Your time is up (…) no one
has the executive ownership of the liberation struggle. We all
contributed in one way or another (2).

Dube, the ‘ordinary’ man, dares to speak directly to Mabhata, the

opposition leader, right before the election when they meet in the
beer garden: “Listen to them campaigning. Insults after insult. Listen
to their leadership talk, threats after threats”. Mabatha answers:
“Why did you not come to the rally? The next President of the
country gave a wonderful address and, boy, he can talk”. When Dube
is still not convinced, Mabatha accuses him of being bribed. Dube
sums up his view: “The ballot or the bullet? Which of the two will
decide the outcome of tomorrow’s election? (he drinks his scud –
[local beer]) ... Now, who wants my vote?” Dube’s sense of agency
is clear; he insists: “One day to go. One day to history. Make sure
you are a part of this history. Go out there and vote” (Baya, 2008: 7).

ANXIETY IS EATING US FROM INSIDE

While still waiting for the results of the election, Amai Thobi sells
her fruits in the streets and dares to speak directly to Comrade Musha
when she meets him in the street: “Kkanti baba Mlilo, kengizibuze,
what is happening? [Mister, can I ask what is happening?] Where are
the results? Time is going and we can’t do anything. Anxiety is
eating us from inside” (14). Comrade Musha answers: “Patience,
Amai Thobi. Patience. Some of us are already preparing for the
victory celebration as we speak”. But Amai Thobi wants her question
answered and asks pointedly: “A victory when the results are not yet
out?” and adds: “Baba Mililo, there is something you are forgetting,
the votes belongs to the people. They need to know how they voted.
They need to know whether their votes made a change. People are
angry”. Comrade Musha responds angrily: “What change? Nothing
will change. The opposition will be embarrassed as usual.
258 VIBEKE GLØRSTAD

Humiliated. This time they will be silenced for good”. Amai Thobi
dares to answer him: “Do you think so?” (14).
The Waiting provides a direct way of talking about civil
citizenship and the right to vote; through Amai Thobi the fears of
ordinary people are expressed and thus also acknowledged. Baya let
the character Amai Thobi express the uncertainty which could still be
experienced at the time. Time was passing and they were still waiting
for the results. Amai Thobi says when she meets Mabhata on the
street: “We are all in the dark and something is going down. The
police and the army are all over. Rumour says state security is now
interfering in the whole process”. Mabhati confirms these fears: “We
are now afraid to even open our mouths or walk in the streets. We
fear because they threaten to shoot us with guns”.

Amai Thobi: Can you smell it?

Mabhata: Smell what?
Amai Thobi: Fear, anxiety and uncertainty. I can breathe it (14).

Baya provides a dialogue between ordinary people and leaders that

also indicate new positions for citizenship; Dube and Amai Thobi
dare to speak with the leaders about their anxiety. Dube and Amai
Thobi are acknowledged, in a way, by the leaders, meeting them in
ordinary daily situations, and they are allowed to express their fears
directly to them. As citizens they are depicted as engaging in a
process of participation in an immediate way. But as citizens they are
also concerned about the conditions for the possibility of the exercise
of citizenship. Together with a nuanced depiction of Mabatha, the
play shows several aspects of the process of participation related to
the use their votes, in this way providing the audience with voices for
expressing their own citizenship. Dube and Amai Thobi are in charge
of their own voices – they display a strong self-confidence, and make
confident claims for recognition, although they are not directly
involved in party politics. They are supporting a vibrant concept of
identity and use of a language of criticism. In this way The Waiting
adds to the process of performing citizenship through telling the
stories of citizens.

POLITICS OF RECOGNITION
The above plays provide some examples of how theatre may be a
space for performing processes of citizenship. By displaying the
citizens’ stories, the plays offer the audience new images of identities
 CITIZENS’ STORIES 259

and roles as well as strategies for claiming recognition and full

participation. The plays Superpatriots and Morons and The Good
President became media events because they addressed the political
struggle directly and were consequently banned. The Waiting gives
expression to the fear of the electorate and allows the audience to see
characters being publicly recognized in that their voices are heard.
The debate on the processes of citizenship is continuing in even
more spaces at different levels. Raisedon Baya says he has tried to
write more ‘poetic’ plays, but people ask for plays that are more
directly critical of the current political conditions:

We want to come and listen to our problems and see… maybe give us
different views on the problems… You know, people come. Or
sometimes, our space for debate and discussions has been (…) kind of
made smaller and smaller by … legislation. So theatre sometimes
provides that space, a place where people get a chance to talk. So we
keep the fire, freedom of speech, and space … to discuss the relations
that affect us (Baya interview).

The plays dramatise the language, space and positions of subjectivity

in the processes of becoming a recognized citizen in a democracy.
Superpatriots and Morons, The Good President and The Waiting
refer to an multi-voice discourse of citizenship which is gaining
increased space – reflecting the intense debates, activity and
participation of citizens in the organizational life, the social media
and the theatre in Zimbabwe.

REFERENCES
Abah, Oga Steve and Okwori, Zakari Jenks. 2005. A nation in search of
citizens: Problems of citizenship in the Nigerian context. In Kabeer,
Naila (Ed.). Inclusive citizenship: meanings and expressions. London:
Zed Books.
Amakhosi Cultural Centre. http://www.amakhosi.org/ (Accessed 16 June
2007).
Baya, Raisedon. 2009. Tomorrows people and other plays. Mitcham: Sable
Press.
________. 2008. The Waiting. Unpublished manuscript from Nhimbe
Trust, Bulawayo.
________. 2009. Superpatriots and Morons. In Baya, Raisedon. Tomorrows
people and other plays. Mitcham: Sable Press.
260 VIBEKE GLØRSTAD

________. Playwright. Interviews: 1 July 2007, 29 March 2010.

Catholic Commission for Justice and Peace (CCJP) and the Legal Resources
Foundation Zimbabwe (LRF). 1997. Breaking the Silence. Building
True Peace. A Report on the Disturbances in Matabeleland and the
Midlands 1980 to 1988. Harare and Bulawayo. (Access through
Zimbabwe Human Rights NGO Forum) http://www.hrforumzim.com/
members_reports/matrep/matreppart1a.htm; http://www.hrforumzim.
com/frames/inside_frame_reps.htm (Accessed 10.12.2009).
Englund, Harri. 2004. Introduction: recognizing identities, imaging
alternatives. In Englund, Harri and Nyamnjoh Francis B. (Eds). Rights
and the politics of Recognition in Africa. London, New York: Zed
Books.
Gouws Amanda (Ed.). 2005. (Un)Thinking Citizenship. Feminist Debates in
Contemporary South Africa. Aldershot: Ashgate.
Hammar, Amanda and Raftopolous, Brain. 2003. Introduction. Rethinking
Land, State and Nation. In Hammar, Amanda, Raftopolous Brian and
Jensen, Stig (Eds.) Zimbabwe’s Unfinished Business. Rethinking Land,
State and Nation in the Context of Crisis. Harare: Weaver Press.
International Crisis Group. 2008. Zimbabwe. Prospects from a flawed
election. ICG Africa Report. No.138. http://www.crisisgroup.org/en/
regions/africa/southern-africa/zimbabwe/138-zimbabwe-prospects-
from-a-flawed-election.aspx (Accessed 20.03.08).
Isin, Engin F. and Turner, Bryan. S. (Eds). 2002. Handbook of Citizenship
Studies. London: Sage.
Kaarsholm, Preben. 1989. Quiet after the Storm: Continuity and Change in
the Cultural and Political Development of Zimbabwe. African
Languages and Cultures 2(229): 175-202.
________. 1990. The Development of Culture and the Contradictions of
Modernizations in the Third World: The Case of Zimbabwe. The
European Journal of Development Research. 2(1): 36-58.
Mhlanga, Cont Mdladla 1992. Workshop Negative. Harare: College Press
Publishers.
________. 2007. The Good President. Unpublished manuscript from the
author.
________. Playwright, Bulawayo Zimbabwe. Interview: 29 March 2010.
Mouffe, Chantal (Ed.) 1992. Dimensions of Radical Democracy: Pluralism,
Citizenship, Community. London, New York: Verso.
Nicholson, Helen. 2005. Applied Drama. The Gift of Theatre. Basingstoke:
Palgrave Macmillan.
 CITIZENS’ STORIES 261

Nyampimbi, Joshua. Producer Nhimbe Trust; Theatre for Development.

Interviews: 31 July 2007, 29 March 2010.
Plastow, Jane. 1996. African Theatre and Politics. The Evolution of Theatre
in Ethiopia, Tanzania and Zimbabwe. A Comparative Study. Cross
Cultures 24. Readings in the Post/Colonial Literatures in English.
Amsterdam: Rodopi.
Rohmer, Martin. 1999. Theatre and Performance in Zimbabwe. Bayreuth:
Bayreuth African Studies, Bayreuth University.
USA State Department. 2009. 2008 Human Rights report Zimbabwe.
Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights and Labour. 2008 Country
Report on Human Rights practices. http://www.state.gov/g/drl/rls/
hrrpt/2008/af/119032.htm (Accessed 30.05.09).
CHAPTER 10

TOWARDS A POLITICALLY EFFICACIOUS

COMMUNITY-BASED THEATRE

OLA JOHANSSON

AIDS has driven African community-based theatre to its limits.

Contrary to passé developmental discourses and clichéd academic
jargon, there is no assurance about the facility of applied theatre to
empower communal groups or change social life, at least not when it
comes to dealing with the communicative syndrome in question.1
Community-based theatre (CBT) is arguably the most adaptable and
probably the most widespread mode of HIV prevention for, and with,
young people in rural Africa, but neither adaptability nor availability
necessarily translate as any type or measure of efficacy. The
pandemic, which used to be viewed as a medical issue but which is
now, more sensibly, considered as a chronic societal and political
condition, has exacerbated notorious concerns such as poverty and
health care on a continent that has already lagged behind the rest of
the world for decades in these areas.2 The pandemic has undermined
institutions that people rely on, such as education, marriage, political
and judicial bodies, kinship systems, ritual regimes and faith-based
organizations – and it has turned some of them into prime risk
factors. In this overarching context AIDS has turned CBT into one of
its symptoms, which is apparent in dramatic situations whose crises
transgress liminal boundaries of ethical tolerance, existential attitudes
and communal actions.
Theatre has the capacity to counter these challenges by offering a
cultural-historical retrospective of the epidemic as perceived in
performance events, but questions remain about the efficacy of CBT
in the quest for HIV prevention. In a research project called “AIDS
and the Art of Survival: Community Theatre as HIV Prevention in
Tanzania,” I have approached questions about HIV prevention and
CBT through fieldwork in two regions in Tanzania, namely Kagera
264 OLA JOHANSSON

and Mtwara.3 In the Kagera region of north-western Tanzania, where

AIDS entered the country in 1983, as well as in neighbouring
Uganda, it is fair to assume, by correlating data between outreach
projects and statistics of prevalence, that travelling theatre troupes
and CBT along with other forms of HIV prevention have had an
impact on declining mortality rates. The percentage of those dying of
AIDS has dropped from a devastating quarter of the population
around 1990 to a few odd percent of the population today. Hence, it
is only natural to focus a discussion on theatrical efficacy on this
region.

LIFE AS EPIDEMIC MIMICRY

The AIDS pandemic epitomizes the topical sense of speed and
change: it disseminates like a global economy across cultural
boundaries and national borders, incognito and yet intimately
incorporated into peoples’ metamorphoses from local to global ways
of living. The syndrome took on epidemic proportions in central
Africa and in the urban centres of the North American coast at about
the same time. Before that, it is reasonable to suppose that it had
meandered up the Congo basin to the highlands of Rwanda before
reaching Lake Victoria on the border of Uganda and Tanzania, where
large numbers of people fell ill in the early 1980s.4 A macabre spirit
sneaked into people’s lives like a myth from nowhere and haunted
them seemingly by quirks of fate; it took possession of their bodies,
one by one, invisibly, hollowly, silently, wearing them down in a
slow, unbearable loss of life.
Despite complex epidemiological surveys it is still hard to know
where AIDS came from, where it is going and how to prevent it from
getting there. The syndrome is generally acquired in sexual relations
and causes a set of symptoms to transpire through quite familiar ways
of living and dying.
The distinctive features of HIV as a virus were that it was
relatively difficult to transmit, it killed almost all those it infected
(unless kept alive by antiretroviral drugs), it killed them slowly after
a long incubation period, it remained infectious throughout its course,
it showed few symptoms until its later stages, and when symptoms
appeared they were often those common to the local disease
environment. This unique combination of features gave a unique
character to the epidemic, “a catastrophe in slow motion” spreading
silently for many years before anyone recognized its existence (Iliffe,
2006: 58).
 TOWARDS A POLITICALLY EFFICACIOUS COMMUNITY THEATRE 265

AIDS was and still is a “ghost disease” (Hanson, 2007: 28),

which has gradually come to be recognized via corporeal signs that
bear various taboo- and stigma-laden code names, sometimes with
sexual overtones (Mutembei, 2001). An informant in southern
Tanzania portrayed an inconvenient truth about the ominous ghost
with a Kiswahili aphorism: umekaa pakunoga, roughly meaning that
it is “situated in a delicious place,” implying the conflation of sexual
pleasure with fatal disease. AIDS is a performative double that
imitates people’s lifestyles – it does what people do. It travels with
people, stays in their houses, goes to rendezvous with them, has sex
with them, has kids with them, becomes sick with them and dies with
them. Apparently, AIDS has no traceable origin or fixed identity; it
shadows people and mocks scientists in an epidemic mimicry – just
like syphilis, the “great imitator” of old – whose transmutations can
really only be pursued and interpreted in the nomadic choreography
of changing locations, identities and lifestyles.5
Historically, cultural changes in Africa have been induced by
geographical and violent political circumstances. The continent is
sparsely populated, which means that people have always had to
travel long distances for various purposes. Low population density
makes services arduous and costly, curbing effective health care.6
The geographical predicament was intensified during the long history
of the slave trade, which displaced ethnic and demographic groups,
and through the colonial division of labour as male work forces were
allocated to distant production sites, while women were left behind in
village households (Barnett and Whiteside, 2002; see also Iliffe,
1995: 269-70). The colonial order’s disruption of gender roles – with
spouses absent from each other over long periods of time – led to a
number of extramarital affairs and thus epidemics of sexually
transmitted diseases (STDs), which have become established as
crucial causes behind the rapid spread of AIDS in sub-Saharan
Africa. In more recent times women are carrying out considerably
more work than men in Tanzania and other parts of Eastern Africa,
while unemployed men still control the household economy and hold
the outreach function of selling and buying merchandise.
On and around Lake Victoria in the beginning of the 1980s the
historical traces of AIDS emerged among fishermen, lorry drivers
and black market racketeers, who unknowingly carried the looming
epidemic further into Africa via truck stops, bars and market places
populated by penniless local women offering transactional sex.7
Early in the epidemic people in Kagera suspected witchcraft and
266 OLA JOHANSSON

incriminated the Ugandans (and vice versa). They refused to believe

that they got fatally ill from having had sex a decade earlier, shunned
the sick like the plague (which it was), and were wary of conspiracies
among modern doctors with their useless “international” medicines.
Political leaders declared war on AIDS, but never identified the
enemy.8 Religious leaders blamed people for amoral promiscuity, but
could not avoid contracting the virus themselves. Health researchers
eventually held a retrovirus responsible, but offered no hope for a
cure. At the end of the day the authoritarian speculations, advice and
judgments meant little, and so people on the ground had to look for
more precise and pragmatic questions and solutions amongst
themselves. To make sense of a world where about a quarter of the
population in the Kagera region were sick and set to die, people in
towns and in the country began to channel their experiences in
narratives by storytelling, poems, choir songs and modern music.
During March 2004, in the village of Kenyana, just a few miles
from the Ugandan border, I saw a community group perform songs
that contextualize the epidemic outbreak in detail:

Come gather mothers and fathers / We now know that AIDS is the
problem / It was first seen in Kanyigo village and then poured over the
border at Mutukula / People didn’t know and left behind orphans who
became street children / Tanzanians and Ugandans thought they had
bewitched each other / in 1981 doctors announced that it is a virus
which weakens your immune system / AIDS is caused by sex / Please
stop drinking and taking drugs / We urge you to change behaviour to
survive […] (Kenyana, 19 March 2004).

This is an example of how a historical record gets inscribed in a live

storytelling tradition in a lyrical mode, invoking the communal
reverberations of an incarnated “we” on behalf of those who passed
on (see the last phrase of the lyric). Within a few years, in the 1980s,
the epidemic became generalized in many parts of Tanzania and East
Africa, with prevalence rates exceeding five percent in adult
populations. The syndrome cut through the social fabric of
ethnicities, interests, sectors, and social strata; the major risk groups
were no longer sex workers and truck drivers, but traders, farmers,
teachers, students, politicians, clerics, housewives – in short,
everyone. By 1990 it had become quite obvious to epidemiologists
and other interpreters that AIDS was much more than a health issue.
Yet most governments, including the Tanzanian, delegated the lion’s
share of their preventive resources to the health sector rather than to
 TOWARDS A POLITICALLY EFFICACIOUS COMMUNITY THEATRE 267

initiatives that deal with AIDS as a more integral social and cultural
predicament. This deferred an adequate response by about 10 years.
Not until New Year’s Eve in 1999, when about one in ten Tanzanians
were infected, did President Benjamin William Mkapa declare AIDS
a national disaster in a speech (TACAIDS, 2003: 10). Since then
there have been genuine attempts to address the immediate epidemic
concerns, even if the discursive openness and political willingness
mostly has manifested on a national rhetorical level, while the
coordinated responses of governmental agencies at district and
village levels have been much less open and efficient.9

COMMUNITY-BASED THEATRE AS EPIDEMIOLOGICAL

COUNTERACTION
To prevent the spread of HIV a mode of prevention that is at once
mobile and containing is necessary. Pursuing the movements of
AIDS requires an understanding of epidemic determinants in specific
areas over a certain time. The critical question is simple: what is it,
here and now, that causes the virus to spread from person to person,
and from group to group? To respond to the question is infinitely
more difficult, but I believe socially inclusive forms of applied action
research such as CBT are vital sources and means of epidemiological
counteraction (see also Johansson, 2007a, 2007b). The consequent
modus operandi of participatory HIV-prevention schemes works as
follows: when the determinants, or risk factors, have been identified
and mapped out by a local group on their home turf, attempts are
made to contain the epidemic by virtue of people’s shared
experiences of social crises, their traditional ways of redressing
cognate critical conditions, as well as their ability to take action
against new crises.10 Both the mobile and containing prevention
tactics are integral elements of contemporary African CBT. Counter-
intuitively, the current need for a mobile strategy has little to do with
the classical travelling theatre movements in Africa – the post-
independence troupes that performed new plays about rights and
commitments for the recently liberated population (see Kerr, 1995;
Mlama, 1991).11 To access and counteract the determinants behind
AIDS, the site-specific pertinence needs to be optimized. It is
necessary to mobilize the most relevant local individuals and civil
society groups who are aware of their own situational limits and
possibilities, but who are also ready to acknowledge a crisis without
prepackaged empirical solutions or premeditated messages – unlike
much previous applied theatre, such as the typically agenda-driven or
268 OLA JOHANSSON

task-based theatre for development (TFD). In a nationwide HIV-

prevention scheme called a District Response Initiative (DRI),
launched by UNAIDS in Tanzania a few years ago (Mazzuki, 2002),
theatre projects against AIDS were – and, by the way, still are –
viewed as crucial to their success, involving theatre based on so-
called “community mapping.” Particular risk sites are ascribed
narratives of events, constituting a rough draft for eventual
performances.12 The “scripts” in amateur-driven CBT are in fact
verbally disposed sketches and always leave a lot of opportunities for
improvisation. Improvisation in turn allows for local plot variations
as troupes travel their own districts, where nearby wards and villages
can typify quite disparate risk scenarios.
In connection with the community mapping and its allocation of
narrativized incidents, it is tricky to address daily routines and events
when the central issue is sexual affairs, especially, of course, if they
are extramarital. It may, for instance, be guesthouses, marketplaces
or schoolyards that are viewed as the crucial sites for casual or
transactional sex; there may be unsafe paths for women fetching
water at remote wells, or along roads with sporadic traffic after dark
or other unreliable heterotopia, to speak with Foucault. The most
crucial epidemic hub, however, is the private household. Most
spectators know about, or will at least have heard of, sexual relations
in all of the mentioned loci and most people surely know about their
own homes as a risk site. This is part of the alienation effect of
community-based performances: to confront audiences with issues
they are well aware of but do not verbalize, let alone act out in the
presence of each other. (The underlined part of the sentence is an
exemplification of Brecht’s alienation effect, so I don’t think it needs
to be spelled out further).
The community mapping leads to site-specific performances
where spectators are familiar with not only the local problems, but
also with the actors performing them. As opposed to the liminal
phases of initiation rites, when social order is turned upside down by
defamiliarizing common elements (Turner, 1982: 27), CBT turns the
everyday order inside out by familiarizing taboo aspects of public
life. By breaking the silence on issues such as sexuality,
stigmatization, disease and death; by exposing unseen affairs and
private conflicts; disclosing the secret acts of initiation rites; casting
doubt over religious dogma; showing the bedridden in the dark
corners of households and bringing into public view the vigils of
family members for dying parents or children, the representational
 TOWARDS A POLITICALLY EFFICACIOUS COMMUNITY THEATRE 269

distance between actors and spectators collapses into “performative

acts.” In J.L. Austin’s (1962) functional sense of the phrase
(irrespective of his reservation about the efficacy of conventional
theatre) this kind of theatre cuts so close to the bone of matters that
they become the matter. By enacting life-size situations in the public
domain with, and for, social actors who are directly involved, and by
incarnating the ailing and dying in real time, the theatre stands in for
rites that previously carried the function of fighting afflictions in
epidemics. The digits of statistical incidence and mortality rates come
alive in events where one’s spouse or next door neighbour may turn
out to be a typical representation of what otherwise is spoken of as an
outlandish scourge. Furthermore, the audience becomes an integral
part of the blocking, as it were, of HIV-preventive scenarios. To
emphasize the participatory dimension, a Boalian Joker commonly
steps into the breach of the open-ended plot and asks people what
they are going to do.13 “Was it a fair depiction?” “Do these things
happen among us?” “And, if so, what are we going to do about
them?” In other words, spectators are reminded of their double roles
as theatrical witnesses and social players in the communal events.
They also know that they have to act upon such appeals if they want
to sleep comfortably that evening.
After the choir in Kenyana village finish their song about the
beginnings of the AIDS epidemic, the Joker poses his questions. The
villagers remain quiet for a while – and not just because a painful
past has been unearthed and pragmatic questions have been posted to
provoke action, but also because a scorching sun has forced everyone
to seek shade under the slender banana tree leaves (at one point that
day I fainted from heat stroke). The local politicians and elders get
the shaded seats; the school children are scattered on the ground,
while the rest of the villagers sit around the temporary “stage” area.
In the background, quite significantly, is a primary school and a little
further away the local government office. “We should establish a
fund for orphans,” a man suggests in the local tongue, Ruhaya. The
Joker asks: “How?” No one answers. “Discuss it!” the Joker insists.
After some muffled and stumbling exchanges, the Joker puts the
matter on its head: “Are we poor? Can we start a fund? How many
work? How many can help with 500? 300? [Tanzanian shillings,
about US$20-40]” A man who presents himself as a mechanic says:
“God help me, I’m poor!” But a fellow spectator ripostes: “We
should sit down together and find a way. We are not so poor that we
cannot help our children to go to school.” The Joker pushes that train
270 OLA JOHANSSON

of thought further: “If you have 800 workers and they contribute with
500 Shilling each, you would get 400,000. That’s 10 orphans in
school.” The post-performance discussion concludes with a
promising plan for the local orphans. This kind of fund-raising is
something I have witnessed in other villages in the Kagera region
(see Johansson 2007b), where several hundred thousand orphans are
currently living and dying. It is also something that people should be
aware of in the Northern Hemisphere. No matter how much foreign
aid a country receives, the overwhelming support for people affected
by AIDS and other far-reaching crises is, and will always be,
communal and ultimately familial (in Africa pertaining to so-called
extended family systems).14 Local donations for orphans are
tremendously important, but not a test of what state-of-the-art CBT
against AIDS can achieve. After the one-way communication of the
choir, the more interactive drama ensues – and things get much more
complicated.

HOW NEEMA’S DOUBLE BIND TRIPLED

A man comes back to his house after a long absence only to find his
family in shambles. The mother has lost control over their two
teenage sons, dressed in ragged clothes, who are either fighting each
other or smoking opium, probably out of boredom; the boys are stuck
between disrupted schooling and permanent unemployment. The
older brother barely takes notice of his returning father, not even
when he is handed a gift. It is obvious that the father is trying to re-
establish his authority as head of the family by material means. This
effort is seen as futile by the older brother, who soon picks a fight
with him. The father is portrayed as a less-than-desirable role model.
As soon as he is left alone in the house, he calls out for the
housemaid, Neema. In a softened voice he addresses her as his
daughter. She takes the intimate moment as an opportunity to ask for
a pay raise. He says she will indeed get something extra and drags
her into a room – a fabric-covered booth in the middle of the play
area – where he has sex with her. As so often during such scenes, the
audience emits a scattered and embarrassed giggle. The sex scene is
repeated when the older brother forces Neema to have sex with him
in the same place and then threatens her to keep quiet about it. The
audience giggles again. Like a farce the scene is then repeated when
the younger brother coerces Neema to have sex. This time the
audience laughs nervously as the farce turns into tragedy.
 TOWARDS A POLITICALLY EFFICACIOUS COMMUNITY THEATRE 271

The rest of the intrigue is predictable, although mordantly sad. A

nurse visits the house – incidentally from Ndorage hospital, where
the first AIDS case in Tanzania was diagnosed in 1983 – and
announces that Neema has just died from an AIDS-related disease.
The male family members panic and snap back to reality. In this
distressed state the mother also figures out what’s going on and the
family implodes into a jumble of broken relationships beyond
remedy in its own home. A priest makes a visit and reads from
Corinthians: “Now remains faith, hope, love, these three; but the
greatest of these is love.” The clergyman grimly asks what happened
to love in the house. It is a good question, but raises numerous other
more or less related questions. One of the more provocative counter-
questions is whether a woman like Neema could actually afford real
love in her lifetime.15
So what can an audience say after an in-your-face tragicomedy
on AIDS? Well, everyone seems to be taken aback by the
straightforward depiction of sexual abuse. Before a word is uttered,
the children are escorted back to school. After a lingering silence –
which is, of course, as telling as any discourse – a man suggests that
the family in the performance perished as a result of sexual greed.
The spectator went on to say that this theme was merely mentioned
in the songs, while the theatre made it a key theme. No one
responded to his comment, perhaps because it tapped into a religious
discourse of cupidity and guilt that is too abstract to address on the
spot. The next comment by a younger woman was also religiously
informed: “Being honest in your marriage is a crucial issue,” she
said, and added a warning against the use of drugs and alcohol. The
truth is that the audience did not have too many things to say about
the performance – the post-performance discussion soon stagnated
and petered out. There are two major causes for the communicative
breakdown in Kenyana, apart from the obvious fact that it is always
awkward to discuss sexual matters in public. First of all, seeing a
performance on the deadly impact by, and on, infected families as a
result of AIDS in 2004 was to arrive at an eschatological abyss
between a defeatist rock and a deadly hard place. Taking an HIV test
with a bad outcome prior to the distribution of antiretroviral
medicines could, at best, be an altruistic act that gestured towards an
individual behavioural change to save others’ lives (see Reynolds
Whyte, 1997: 203–32). This was, of course, several years after anti-
retroviral medicines (ARVs) were made available for infected people
in the Northern Hemisphere. Today ARVs are available in selected
272 OLA JOHANSSON

hospitals in the Kagera region, such as Ndorage, but still not more
than a fraction of the sick actually get access to sustainable therapy.
According to epidemiologists Gideon Kwesigabo (2007) and Stefan
Hanson (2007), predicted scenarios show that only about 25 to 30
percent of the sick will get access to ARV therapies in the coming
years.
The other cause behind the communicative breakdown in
Kenyana is more complex and has to do with a problematic mix of
social and ethnic traditions, patriarchal supremacy, generational
discrepancies, and other gender-related predicaments. Yes, I do
generalize the complex of problems by pulling together a range of
historical and culture-specific issues in terms of “gender inequities.”
In this case it is not a matter of boiling down a deductive theory to
explain reality, but an inductive procedure whereby a series of
different and sometimes contradictory cases can be interpreted as
cognate exemplifications of a particular phenomenon, namely how
HIV is contracted through non-consensual sex, especially where
women are concerned. Women are not, however, the only subjugated
cohort under the current epidemic conditions; young people in
general share similar risk scenarios. Young men and women – more
than half of the population in sub-Saharan Africa are under 20 years
of age – make up the most susceptible strata in the sub-Saharan
AIDS pandemic and, not coincidentally, the ones who use CBT more
than any other cohort (Johansson 2006a). The reason for the
popularity of CBT among young people is that it is probably the most
accessible and inexpensive response to one of the most serious
challenges to democracy since the days of independence in Africa
(see de Waal, 2006). Young people are open to new identity
formations and thus often clash with older and more obstinate
spectators when they meet in performance situations (Klink, 2002).
On 11 March 2004, during the same week as the Kenyana
performance and located in the same district, I saw a play in Ijumbe
village that depicted the cruel exploitation of a housemaid trapped in
the same tight spot as Neema. She was trapped in one of the rare
paying jobs available for young rural women in Tanzania, and paying
the price: sexual abuse at the hands of her employer.16 Many poverty-
stricken women find themselves forced to become sex slaves,
especially if they have children to support. In the Ijumbe play there
was another layer of tragedy: the victim of abuse was an orphan. The
girl is hired as a maid by a businessman, who takes sexual advantage
of her. In this deeply moving story it is the girl’s alcoholic aunt who
 TOWARDS A POLITICALLY EFFICACIOUS COMMUNITY THEATRE 273

puts her up for sale and who ultimately becomes dependent on the
girl when she succumbs to AIDS-related diseases. Epidemiologically,
abuse of alcohol is as common a risk factor as sexual abuse and just
as obviously linked to problems with social development.17
After the performance the Ijumbe group performed a dance and
sang a hymn for vendors and visitors at a local market place. As
always, everyone enjoyed the upbeat dance (ngoma) and some
spectators joined in. But the dirge that followed about AIDS caused
nearly every man to turn back to his market activities. This is
probably the most evident gender-divisive social gestus I have
witnessed in connection with performances on AIDS. Unless young
males are engaged and enlisted early by means of theatre, they too
will escape into an orthodox masculine response of denial.
A similar story was enacted in Bugandika on 10 August 2006. A
woman takes her orphaned niece in to live with her and her drunkard
husband. The village is located in a severely affected part of the
northern Kagera region – just a few miles from Kanyigo village,
which was mentioned as the epidemic fountainhead in the chorus
above. To the horror of the young woman her aunt soon dies. At the
funeral the drunkard begs the community residents for help, but
people deny him support in his present situation since he always
refused to cooperate with the village in their fundraising for other
people. Things go from bad to worse as the niece finds herself
cornered in the disappointed and drunk man’s house, where he rapes
her. The suggested solution is, again, fundraising for an orphan
centre.
The three mentioned performances share cognate plots depicting
destitute young women who pay the price of having been offered
jobs that came with tacit agreements of transactional sex, and, if the
agreement is violated, sexual abuse. The idea of using CBT is to
expose – in broad daylight and among people who know each other
relatively well – such tacit and illicit sides of the socio-cultural
context responsible for the spread of AIDS . This makes theatre both
timely and unique, since there is no other cultural discourse or
practice that brings people face to face with unresolved questions
about life and death and on gender-balanced terms – and at a time
when the need to do so is greater than ever. The way to get this close
to issues of sexuality and disease is to get past language by using
bodily actions that irrefutably resemble everyday life routines. It is
not a simple task of imitation, though; CBT is a way to undo the
mimetic ghost of AIDS by divulging its invisible, hollow and silent
274 OLA JOHANSSON

ambush against individuals. In performance the mimetic resemblance

is meant to be transposed from internal relations between individuals
to the communal relations between performers and spectators. It is
through this relationship in open-ended events with participatory
post-performance discussions and follow-up action plans that the
tacit and sometimes illicit plots are disrupted.
Public discussions on AIDS are tricky to unravel because most
people by now are well aware of what puts them at risk, but at the
same time convinced that AIDS will persist – in other words, that the
risky behaviour will continue. The discussion in Kenyana only
confirmed this. How, then, is it possible to critique this practice-
based predicament discursively? Most post-performance discussions
in Kagera assume the tone of polite commentaries among people or
brief sermons by those who are already converted to the agenda of
social change. Some plays have dramaturgies with semi-open
endings that propose a donation for orphans even before people have
had a chance to reflect on the causes behind orphanhood. In
Bugandika the performance ends with a suggestion to help the
abused orphan: “Let’s contribute 500 each and take her to the orphan
centre, because they are the ones who can manage the situation. We
can’t do it.” The first sentence could have been taken from an Oxfam
or CARE billboard, while the second brief statement borders on
defeatism in a community that appears to have disintegrated into a
collection of individuals.
It is as though people, including many performers, have
knowledge based on judgments of first-hand experiences but doubt
that their opinions will lead anywhere beyond the events, let alone to
change. It is as if only present people and events are trusted. So the
dialogue that is meant to be transferable from the dramatic plot to a
communal dialogue appears to be an extension of the plot that, in
turn, merely confirms the problems. There is only so much a Joker
can do under these circumstances: if people don’t believe in the
possibility of change their discussion will inevitably revolve around
the importance of speaking out about AIDS (see the post-
performance comments in Kenyana above) rather than about doing
something to change its action-driven determinants.
The distrust in one’s own influence over the public sphere does
not only lead to self-doubt, but also a reciprocal mistrust of official
information. Several studies have established that the number of HIV
infections has decreased quite dramatically in the Kagera region
since the 1990s (Kwesigabo, 2001). But many doubt the validity of
 TOWARDS A POLITICALLY EFFICACIOUS COMMUNITY THEATRE 275

the reports. In my research project this scepticism comes through in

the focus group discussions, which are clearly divided by gender. A
male informant in Ijumbe put it this way: “If you see men running
around with five women, the numbers [of HIV incidences] are not
declining. The problem is still there” (Ijumbe Focus Group, 11
March 2004). In Rubungo the women I talked with believe there has
been a decline in the prevalence of AIDS through education
campaigns by theatre and other means, but the problems of
unfaithfulness and lack of condom use persist. The men in Rubungo
point to poverty as the cause of transactional sex and other
predicaments: “Families lack resources. Children run away and
become street kids. Girls become prostitutes and boys become
thieves. Families give away their kids for housework and other
employment. That often leads to sex, not least among housemaids
who are not organized” (Rubungo Focus Group, 9 March 2004). If
this sounds like they were removing themselves from the scenario,
the men in Kamachumu were less successful in disguising their
involvement as they discussed transactional sex as a marital mode of
corruption from firsthand experiences: “Changudoa [a nickname for
prostitutes] show up at construction sites, but also village women.
Chinese men [who were leading the road works in the district] are
involved in sexual affairs – all men!” The man’s accusations led to
laughter in the group. But it is a nervous amusement, since these are
the very same men who are sharing households with the village
women. Another man then strikes a personal nerve in the group:
“Men see their women go away with chapati [a bread sold to the road
workers], but come back with thousands of shillings. They have sex
with contractors” (Kamachumu Focus Group, 13 March 2004).
Ultimately this is what CBT against AIDS is about: self-
reflection, realization and the ability to act on these realizations under
certain social and political conditions. A woman in Bugandika
posited that reflection and knowing the risks do not mean that
behaviour will change: “Poverty can make someone sell her daughter
to a rich person. You are parents and you see a rich man and you can
then push your daughter to that man. If the man is infected, the
daughter will also die.” Another woman added: “It is not only about
rich men, but if a man can offer only so much as 500 shillings and
the woman doesn’t have food or soap at home, she can give herself to
the man.” And once the self-confidence erodes, careless behaviour
ensues regardless of what one knows. “Men take the opportunity to
buy women pombe [locally brewed beer]. They get drunk and have
276 OLA JOHANSSON

sex. The next day the woman gets back to the bar and wants to have
the same man again. And if you didn’t use a condom last night, why
should I demand him to use it tonight?” Casual sex is especially
common on occasions like usiko ngoma (night dances) and
weddings. “At night after weddings, the alcohol flows; when you see
that, you realize that the epidemic will never stop,” a woman says.
Another woman agrees: “The young people say that at the weddings
at night AIDS goes on holiday” (Bugandika Focus Group, 10 August
2006). The scenarios mentioned in this paragraph are indeed painful
but nonetheless worth mentioning, since they involve crucial themes
of the local epidemics as performed and discussed by the groups in
my field studies in Tanzania.
The discrepancy between knowledge and practice seems to
demand a synergy of approaches by way of the revolutionary
dialogues and performances of Augusto Boal and Paolo Freire. In a
somewhat similar vein Nelson Mandela has said that AIDS calls for a
“social revolution” (in Hanson, 2007), a notion that hinges not only
on poverty reduction but also on radically reformed gender roles in
politics. This is a politics in an extended sense. The democratic
relevance of CBT against AIDS has to do with substituting health
issues for ideologically fettered political agendas and religious
dogmas. Ethical and political issues are no doubt intricately linked
with health, but in my opinion issues of life and death outweigh
dichotomies such as right or wrong, or the political left and right.
Brecht knew that when he formulated the motto “food first, then
morality” in The Threepenny Opera.
CBT is – or should be – a processual mode of action research
rather than a norm-driven deployment of ideological or other special
interests. The exploration of epidemic conditions does not lend itself
as much to written research or lab practice as to engaging with people
with local knowledge and life skills. If action research is allowed to
function on ground level, it can flesh out vital features and
distinctions in risk analyses that otherwise get diluted when issues
are elevated to a conceptual, institutional or other type of generalized
level of reasoning. One of the most common generalizations in
discourses on AIDS in sub-Saharan Africa is the view that poverty is
the root cause of the spread of HIV. Needless to say, there is some
truth to this argument, but it is nevertheless vague and it is not
practically adaptable in preventive interventions. Action research
such as CBT does not set out from claims or bring closure to
inquiries by quantifying issues; it keeps processes and outcomes open
 TOWARDS A POLITICALLY EFFICACIOUS COMMUNITY THEATRE 277

as long as social actors have issues to resolve. This makes applied

African theatre of this type longitudinal and vast, since it is
syncretistically designed for “whole communities” in the form of a
“drama-which-is-never-finished” (Kerr, 1995: 151, 161). Exactly the
same could be said about the continuing and comprehensive scenario
of AIDS. It is no wonder, then, that project stakeholders and theatre
workers shy away from the idea of assessments of CBT as HIV
prevention.

THE QUEST FOR AN EFFICACIOUS COMMUNITY-BASED

THEATRE
As my research project draws to a close, its findings indicate a lost
war after victory in every battle. The studied projects in Tanzania
mobilize the most susceptible epidemic cohorts and offer them
participatory and gender-balanced means to catalyze experiences,
discourses and life skills through local modes of traditional
performance as well as contemporary international drama methods.
The performances consistently attract considerable crowds, who are
exposed to, and often prone to share, taboo-laden topics and, at best,
follow-up ventures. In focus group discussions with members of
theatre groups and audiences, backstage perspectives on risk
scenarios consistently verify the validity of action research through
performances by theatre groups. Rural young women repeatedly
testify that theatre is their only access to public opinion and
participation in the development of a sustainable and secure civil
society. In interviews with villagers as well as program directors,
almost all who have come in touch with theatre perceive it as a
serious and significant form of HIV prevention. Government
representatives and non-governmental organizations usually praise its
emotional and communicative impact. As opposed to economically
or biomedically driven campaigns, however, theatre is viewed as a
soft preventive means whose appealing and sensitive features draw
judgments based on archaic ideas of female qualities. However, few
organizations or agencies have anything qualitative to say about the
efficacy or real impact of theatre in the greater scheme of the AIDS
epidemic. Epidemiologists and politicians still quantify projects and
programmes in terms of numbers of people reached in relation to
estimated incidence and prevalence rates for areas of implementation,
but they seldom make qualitative evaluations of the need for
interventions with culturally specific tactics for subjugated and
therefore more susceptible groups. The most serious implication of
278 OLA JOHANSSON

this is that, even if an intervention driven by theatre would be

successful as an epidemic diagnosis and counteraction, it would
probably not be noticed by project stakeholders, let alone
policymakers who collect reports on AIDS campaigns.
The flip side to this dilemma is simply to presuppose the facility
of applied theatre to change the order of things in which it intervenes,
without recognizing the complexity of AIDS. The determination of
change, of course, has its heritage in the revolutionary discourses and
practical models of Freire (1971) and Boal (1979). Needless to say,
any applied theatre project aspires to initiate change. The question is
whether change should be a built-in component or even a strategy of
projects. Ogah Abah (2002) and many others predicate theatre for
development on change by designing and assessing projects in terms
of an alternative or new order. James Thompson (2004), on the other
hand, disengages this kind of requirement in what he calls theatre
action research (TAR) by instead stressing how applied theatre can
examine viable conditions for eventual community projects. Helen
Nicholson (2006) also leaves outcomes wide open, but by correlating
applied drama projects with an abstract concept, namely the gift and
its ambiguous claim and, every so often, paradoxical result in debt. I
could also, of course, claim that the post-performance discussions
leading to donations to orphans and widows in Kagera is proof of
both an attitudinal and material change. Discrete and temporary
changes, however, have little to do with the driving forces of AIDS.
Real changes take effect by transforming ingrained actions among
people, not by what is given to them, whether it is money, promises
or knowledge.
Another dominant but equally narrow view on efficacious theatre
against the spread of AIDS is justified in the concepts of information
and education. Whilst an informative theatre mostly pertains to the
transmission of medical or moral messages, educational theatre
draws on the notion of drama as a pedagogical mode of telling and
showing taboo issues. Early on in the epidemic it was of course
urgent to “break the silence.” In her studies on the so-called Ugandan
“Campaign Theatre” of the 1980s, Marion Frank testifies that there
were always two types of characters involved, those who knew about
AIDS and those who did not (1995: 147). Almost like an extension of
“the old Mr Wise and Mr Foolish formula inherited from the colonial
didactic theatre” (Kerr, 1995: 160) or the medieval morality plays of
northern Europe, the Campaign Theatre against AIDS exemplified
stock characteristics of “human genus persona” (Frank, 1995: 137),
 TOWARDS A POLITICALLY EFFICACIOUS COMMUNITY THEATRE 279

targeting often illiterate spectators who were themselves commonly

depicted as promiscuous characters in need of pre-colonial moral
values (90). The amateur actors were well aware of popular
performance styles and local vernacular, but the topics were geared
by international organizations with an organizational framework to
both acquire factual information through research as well as to pass
the information on to the next element in the chain. In the workshops,
however, the communication is made to appear symmetrical. The
artists are encouraged to ask questions and discuss the information
conveyed to them by the workshop organisers. An asymmetrical
situation is thereby transformed into a symmetrical one by giving the
impression of arriving at conclusions in a joint effort (100-101).
As a fastidious semiotician, Frank is actually in favour of the
explicatory process whereby performances correct bad behaviour by
reducing it to clear-cut personal traits (117). Even if the Ugandan
Campaign Theatre was part of a national scheme that reduced
incidence and prevalence rates, it now seems clear that such an
instructive theatre misses various concerns of the epidemic. A
cognate form of decontextualized performance can be found in the
controlled workshops of “process drama,” which functions as “an
affective engagement with the human dimensions of situations – an
essential stage in any effort to encourage safe behaviour in a time of
HIV/AIDS” (Simpson and Heap, 2002: 94). This is suggested
somehow in opposition to the public performance-based theatre for
development. However, given the volatile sociality and poverty that
underpin AIDS, drama in education and therapeutic workshops may
work as discrete components in intervention schemes, but they are
insufficient as outreach activity. As much as drama in education and
therapeutic workshop models are worth for people under epidemic
stress, there is still a need for performances with a wider communal
appeal. Didactic theatre and workshop training primarily address
behaviour change, but AIDS is about wider challenges of gendered
and other ingrained cultural-political lifestyle metamorphoses.
Today nearly every adult person in East Africa knows about
AIDS and its modes of transmission. A crucial challenge thus lies in
how to deal with the fact that people are as susceptible to HIV as
ever, despite sufficient knowledge. It was therefore slightly
disconcerting to pick up a supplement of the prestigious medical
journal The Lancet on health and art and read a couple of articles on
theatre against AIDS that seemed no more up-to-date than Frank’s
1995 book. Mbizvo writes that theatre is “an effective and
280 OLA JOHANSSON

entertaining strategy for dissemination of health information and

reinforcement of positive health messages” (2006: 30; see also Klink,
2002: 166). By “effective” she means that theatre breaks down
communicative barriers for the sake of behaviour change, conveying
knowledge about expected aid and arousing audiences’ “emotions to
stimulate acceptance of the messages” (31). To this I feel urged to
respond that rather than functioning as a mouthpiece for medical and
political authorities, it is more relevant for theatre to show these
people how and why their conventional strategies for
communication, behaviour change and biomedical aid have proven
unsuccessful for the majority of people in Tanzania and most other
sub-Saharan countries. And the only way to do this is to do what
theatre does best, namely function as a revelatory and relational
agency of young people’s interests in cooperation with official
agencies and non-governmental organizations that can meet and
support such interests for the purposes of leading a worthy and safe
life.
That young people enjoy the privilege of being backed by NGOs,
however, does not always sit well with people who used to control
public opinion. Ironically, the fair, unique and independent features
of CBT can also be a curse for its participants, since such a mandate
has been licensed to young people from non-governmental
organizations rather than earned through official merits (or favours).
The groups can easily draw a crowd, lead spectators to laughter and
tears, and engender discussions, but without an authorized mandate
that would provide the performances with a platform wider than the
events per se, CBT will remain culturally alienated and not be able to
effect a social change.
Hence timeliness and uniqueness in design do not guarantee
efficacy in performance. In the case of the performances in Kenyana,
Ijumbe and Bugandika, the actors and spectators are up against an
historical horizon with scenarios not only of colonial disruption of
societal structures, but also a domestic history of gender inequity
during which the pre-colonial Haya kingdoms used tribute systems of
slave girls (later encouraged by German colonialists) and where
women in postcolonial times found themselves driven into systematic
prostitution in order to cope with a lack of inheritance rights, land
rights, and other civil and human rights.18 Despite recent legal
reforms, the hierarchical, polygamous and patrilineal legacy of
traditional Haya societies is still quite obvious in Kagera.
 TOWARDS A POLITICALLY EFFICACIOUS COMMUNITY THEATRE 281

There are reasons to doubt a theatre against AIDS in the name of

transformation, education or donation. What, then, is it good for? If
CBT engages the most susceptible epidemic target groups in
participatory counteractions against risk scenarios in cooperation
with communities, why is it so hard to speak of its efficacy? The only
way to approach efficacy in CBT is, I believe, to identify its limits
and then troubleshoot its weak points under specific epidemic
circumstances. In the light of the findings of my research project, it
seems obvious that the critical means and ends of CBT, which are so
appealing and convenient to celebrate, neither have a recognized
place in organizations that use theatre, nor a destination in societies
where it performs. CBT does not have ownership over its activities,
often due to meagre financial means, but even more so because of
deficient social legitimacy.19 It is directly involved in precise
epidemic problem solving and yet cut off, as it were, from epidemic-
wide solutions. In Marxist terms one may say that the groups are
alienated from the purpose of their social work by being used as
exchange items in the production of aid rather than as useful agents
in consequential prevention schemes. If this is right, then the most
disturbing effect is, again, that a potential achievement of theatre as
HIV prevention would not even be noticeable. If it is difficult to
appreciate the effects of applied theatre, then at least its value as a
means for young people to acquire life skills for a safer social
existence should be evident. However, if the quest for efficacy is an
epidemiological challenge, then the quest for a pragmatic use of it
becomes a political challenge.
As Dale Byam (1999) makes clear, the use of Boal’s methods in
theatre projects stands in need of an awareness of political
frameworks such as those discussed by Freire in order to take effect
in societal and developmental circumstances. The roles of the
Brazilian pedagogues have been thrashed out in debates on African
applied theatre since the 1970s, although mainly without adequate
critical sharpness. The reason why the discourse on theatre for
development often stagnates is that it tends to hinge on certain
celebratory concepts, such as radical change through theatre,
economic and political self-reliance of civil groups, and rapid
appraisals of project efficacy. The discrepancy between the concepts
and real political conditions is an interpretive gap that is often opened
by extending the methodological scope of Augusto Boal into the
pragmatic visions of Paolo Freire. When individual or site-specific
modes of understanding reach the level of socially applicable self-
282 OLA JOHANSSON

reflection, as Freire points out, people enter into the realm of praxis,
where quite advanced attempts can be made to revolutionize policy
making. In particular Freire cautions, with the help of postcolonial
philosophers such as Frantz Fanon (1968), against unconscious
identification with one’s so-called oppressors and the need to always
uphold a critical dialogue about the means and conditions of
liberating strategies – invaluable advice for any CBT group.20
However, in this article I have mentioned project participants whose
“potential consciousness [has emerged] from reality” and who have
already perceived “the causes of their needs” (Freire, 1970: 117).
Through codified acts of problem-posing practices that are discussed
in public (122), they have indeed rehearsed their cultural revolution
(Boal, 1979: 141) through critical reflections and actions, attained
ownership of their labour (Freire, 1970: 183) and thus reached an
entry point for an applied social performance of durable change.
However, the fundamental need for CBT against AIDS has little to
do with didacticism, utopian objectives or radical policy; it has rather
to do with an acknowledgement of already achieved cultural practices
and their participants. Those involved have attained conscientização
and are constantly, although casually, celebrated for it in quasi-
educational terms. Given the lack of proper assessment, one may say
that the theatre groups have created performances of effective
communication although without epidemiological efficacy.
Despite its clear pedagogical, organizational, logistical, critical
and intellectual merits, CBT is not allowed onto the arena of
organized aid, public sectors or real politics. Rather than just pointing
to poverty and gender in sweeping arguments, the crux of the lack of
efficacy of theatre is its lack of legitimacy. This has to do not only
with patriarchal communities resisting young people’s creation of a
new public opinion, but also with an unprecedented political
challenge. It is a matter of democratic urgency to acknowledge that
young people make up more than half of the population in Tanzania
as well as most other African countries. This majority has more site-
specific knowledge about the spread of HIV than any outside expert;
they constitute the most susceptible groups in the pandemic; and they
are the ones who make the most of HIV-prevention practices such as
CBT. What they need is not a revolutionary breakthrough of utopian
ideology or liberating knowledge; what they need is a performative
democracy whose functions go beyond flags and polling stations all
the way down to the ground level of the villages where most people
in Tanzania pursue a reliable, healthy and productive everyday life.
 TOWARDS A POLITICALLY EFFICACIOUS COMMUNITY THEATRE 283

CBT is an extraordinary measure of failure when it comes to HIV

prevention, since it is the most inclusive practice for the greatest
number of susceptible people in the pandemic. If CBT fails, or is
allowed to fail by disregarding its impact, it is reasonable to assume
that every other form of HIV prevention also will fail.
What the national district response initiative (DRI) in Tanzania
would have needed when it rolled out in 2002 was not only a poetic
license for young people to map out and depict critical behaviour
patterns, but also a political license to apply its results in local
programmes. It is difficult to understand why NGOs are willing to
give community groups all sorts of education except one in applied
politics. In the interest of a more comprehensive democracy young
people ought to be provided with something like youth councils in
local political offices. Meanwhile it is unfathomable, not to say
hypocritical, that authorities and NGOs in the districts where I have
carried out fieldwork are not deploying voluntary community groups
with responsibilities to, for instance, coordinate services such as
condom distribution out of hospitals, mobilize people for HIV tests
and counselling under the aegis of ARV programs, work in closer
cooperation with schools,21 faith-based organizations and
workplaces, and, not least, be allowed to take on a greater role in the
research, action, reporting and evaluation of projects in cooperation
with NGOs and AIDS coordinators. It is exciting to imagine what
would happen if such a performative coordination and management,
where words mean action and vice versa, were in effect in a political
office aligned with community performances. The group in Kenyana
who highlighted the situation of many housemaids, and the group in
Bugandika who demonstrated the vicious circle for orphans, would
have led not only to discussions and donations but also to enquiries
and eventual reforms in communal, judicial, political and educational
systems. But this is, of course, exactly what authorities and NGOs do
not want to happen, since it would infringe on their agendas and
budgets, and threaten to take away their work.
After having rehearsed their social revolution, to paraphrase Boal
and Mandela in one breath, the community groups I have studied are
now waiting at the point of entry to an official stage of real political
performance. While waiting, some groups have been putting on
meta-theatrical shows (see Johansson, 2007b) about the inertia of the
governments and NGOs. In the meantime, I have made up my mind
about what I have seen: community-based theatre has played out its
284 OLA JOHANSSON

role as opener and mediator in HIV prevention and now needs a

political mandate.

NOTES

1 Applied theatre may, as Helen Nicholson (2005) writes, imply a

gift with ambiguous implications in Mauss’s (1990) sense of the
concept. On the one hand, it offers cultural participation with
ample freedom of expression, but on the other hand, it is subject to
highly uncertain exchange meanings and values in its encounter
with target audiences. Theatre against AIDS may then be seen as a
gift that most people need, but almost nobody wants.
2 It is by now clear that sub-Saharan Africa will not meet the
Millennium Goals set for 2015 (see Easterly, 2007). The goals
include reductions in poverty and child mortality, fighting
epidemics such as HIV/AIDS, and establishing universal primary
education and gender equality.
3 My research project (2006–2008) is funded by Swedish
International Development Cooperation Agency (SIDA) and will
conclude in a Palgrave Macmillan monograph in 2010.
4 There are good reasons to assume that the source of the epidemic is
to be found in western equatorial Africa because of the vast range
of viral subtypes detected in that area (see Iliffe, 2006). However,
since the virus is constantly changing, the challenge to understand
how and where it spreads and to prevent that incidence rate is of
much greater importance than to know where it came from.
5 AIDS is the new “great imitator,” according to Sabin (1987). This
follows upon the old characterization of syphilis as a great imitator
of other diseases.
6 This relates especially to malaria, which is often caused by rural
people arriving too late with their children at dispensaries after
lengthy journeys, often by foot. But the long distances and the
scarce logistical means will also have an impact on the distribution
of anti-retroviral medicines for a long time to come.
7 A few years later a similar transnational epidemic emerged in
southern Africa where contact between, for example, prostitutes
and migrant miners is now threatening about a third of the adult
populations in countries like Botswana, Zimbabwe, Swaziland and
South Africa.
8 Michael Douglas makes an interesting comment in the movie
Traffic, as he depicted an American politician who steps down as
head of the so-called war on drugs, while agonizing over his son’s
cocaine addiction: “How can you wage war on your own family?”
 TOWARDS A POLITICALLY EFFICACIOUS COMMUNITY THEATRE 285

9 The lack of local political commitment was recently corroborated

in interviews with leaders of a big organization like UNAIDS
(Meena, 2007) as well as the smaller Forum for Grassroots
Organisations (FOGOTA) in Tanzania (Kazungu, 2007).
10 An alternative vocabulary for the mobile and containing features of
CBT would be to use Robert Putnam’s (2000) terms of bonding
and bridging social capital. The latter concept has already been put
to the test in an important social study on the limits of HIV
prevention work in South Africa by Catherine Campbell (2003). As
will be evident below, the task of bridging communal divisions is a
greater and more significant challenge than bonding individual
groups.
11 There certainly are a lot of traveling theatre troupes engaged in
HIV-prevention projects (see Lange, 2002), but they are not, in my
mind, the most advantageous form of theatre for HIV prevention.
AIDS may be a worldwide pandemic, but its determinants are
found in specific domestic and local settings, practices, and
vernaculars.
12 DRI was the first nationwide initiative against AIDS in Tanzania
that directly and explicitly involved theatre. Interestingly, it was
the only component in the comprehensive scheme that had a
distinct applied function. UNAIDS programme associate Henry
Meena told me in an interview that, unfortunately, theatre had been
taken out of the new national HIV-prevention initiative (2007).
13 Augusto Boal’s Theatre of the Oppressed and, in particular, Forum
Theatre model influenced African theatre workers as early as the
mid-1970s in, for instance, the Samaru projects at Ahmadu Bello
University in Nigeria (Abah and Etherton, 1983). About the same
time the Laedza Batanani projects at the University of Lesotho,
Swaziland and Botswana (later University of Botswana) formed
their participatory models of applied theatre with the help of Paolo
Freire.
14 It is important not to tap into fatalist fear-mongering about “AIDS
Africa.” I do not agree with Esiaba Irobi when he asserts that the
“overall tragic prognosis is that these children are destined to die
unless world governments, drug companies, politicians in both the
rich Western countries and the impoverished African countries can
work out a pragmatic programme for treating the infected,
particularly the AIDS orphans, for whom the beginning of life has
now become the commencement of an agonizing death sentence”
(2006:32). It is true that many AIDS orphans are left without care,
but at least as many are taken care of by grandparents, who have
taken an unprecedented responsibility in this moment in history. In
all fairness, it should also be said that international donors have put
286 OLA JOHANSSON

quite heavy emphasis on orphan care, much more so than HIV

prevention. Painting broad strokes of catastrophe only serves to
enhance Western caricatures of Africa. Among the many elderly
guarantors I have met in Africa, a woman called Beatrice in
Nairobi, Kenya, stands out. She lives in the Mathare slum of
Nairobi and takes care of about 40 grandchildren after all of her
own 8 children perished from AIDS-related diseases. She is a
leading participant in a micro-finance organization called Jamii
Bora.
15 The religious intervention is indicative of the Christian interest
organization behind the theatre group, the conservative World
Vision. If the priest is inquiring about love according to the creed
of World Vision, it is certainly a matter of faithful bonds within
monogamous relationships. If the person is not yet married, she or
he should abstain from sex until marriage. However, in reality it is
much more likely that the love in question is challenged by
materialistic and financial constraints and incentives. (For an
interesting study on the commodification of relationships in
Tanzania, see Setel, 1999).
16 For a sociological study of women working as housemaids in
Tanzania, see Heggenhougen and Lugalla (2005).
17 Alcohol was the fourth most common topic of focus group
discussions in Kagera region in my research project, exceeded only
by education, poverty, and development as proposed key risk
factors of the epidemic.
18 In her excellent book Women in Development: A Creative Role
Denied? (1984) Marja-Liisa Swantz writes a well-researched
chapter on the cultural-historical situation for Haya women and
draws the conclusion that “prostitution has been the Haya women’s
response to the conditions which have too often treated the woman
as an inferior being, a commodity of exchange, a tenant and a
servant who could be dismissed at the will of the husband, and
used for producing children who were then stolen from her”
(1984:76–77).
19 In a significant report for UNESCO Hatar (2001) cracks the myth
about the performing arts as naturally integrated into Tanzanian
society by showing what little support they have received in the
educational system since independence.
20 Kerr makes the observation of the constant risk of self-blame in
theatre for development, where poverty-stricken theatre workers
tend to fall into the paradoxical stance of “scapegoating the poor”
(1995:160).
21 There is an active and long-term project called Tuseme (“Let Us
Speak Out” in Swahili), which is implemented for girls in
 TOWARDS A POLITICALLY EFFICACIOUS COMMUNITY THEATRE 287

secondary schools based on the principles of theatre for

development. It has yet to be properly evaluated, but it exemplifies
both qualitative and quantitative attributes in the application of
social theatre. CBT is closely related to theatre activities like
Tuseme, but it also takes on the precarious challenge of mobilizing
out-of-school youths, who represent a majority in their age bracket
and are most likely more closely associated with the most
susceptible youths in the pandemic.

REFERENCES
Abah, Ogah S. 2002. Creativity, participation and change in Theatre for
Development practice. In The Performance Arts in Africa: A Reader,
(Ed.) Frances Harding, 158-73. London: Routledge.
Abah, Ogah S. and Michael Etherton. 1982. The Samaru Projects: Street
Theatre in Northern Nigeria. In Theatre Research International 7(3):
222-34. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
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CHAPTER 11

DANCE MOVEMENT ANALYSIS AS PSYCHO-

DIAGNOSTIC TOOL IN MODERN NIGERIAN
MEDICAL PRACTICE: AN INTRODUCTION
GLADYS IJEOMA AKUNNA

To determine and distinguish the nature and cure of mental illness

there is the crucial need to possess a firm understanding of human
nature and of the principle of organic harmony of bodily functions.
This is without prejudice to the division of human nature into the
physical (body and brain) and the non-bodily parts (mind and soul).
Thus scientific studies of the diagnosis and treatment of mental
illness emphasize diagnostic and treatment procedures aimed at
relieving problems of psychological disorder and adjustment, and
enhancing the harmony and wellbeing of body functions in physical,
mental or psychological and existential terms. However, in a
developing country such as Nigeria, there is little knowledge of the
theory and practice of dance in the medical and scientific domains.
Nigeria’s healthcare system lacks a multidisciplinary delivery
approach. It is basically chemotherapy based. This focus allows little
room for a psychotherapeutic model such as dance, the therapeutic
value of which is committed to improving mental/physical
conditioning, and the treatment and rehabilitation of the mentally ill.
A major motivation of this study is to advocate the reversal of this
trend, and by extension the aim is to entrench the values and purpose
of dance in Nigeria, where presently a lukewarm attitude bordering
on adverse public opinion influences its pedagogy and practice.
A major reason for the lukewarm attitude to dance in modern
Nigeria stems from the lack of interest in serious studies and research
in this field – because the emphasis is overwhelmingly on its
entertainment function. Apart from this, there is a disappointing tone
in modern Nigerian arts, but particularly in some popular Nigerian
musical dance forms, where pornographic connotations are
292 GLADYS IJEOMA AKUNNA

pervasive. Based on its diverse functions and utility, traditional

Nigerian dance form was conceived as that art form that is in contact
with all levels of life in the roles it defines for itself to sustain
physical and emotional health. For instance, in various traditional
Nigerian societies there were various ritual dances involving music
and dramatic enactments as potent form of treatment for the mentally
ill.
Substantial scientific studies in recent years in Europe and the
USA involving a number of academic, arts, education, medical
research and community organizations are applying, testing and
assessing the relative effectiveness of dance movement therapy as a
recovery tool in health care service. These studies are inspired by the
physiological basis of the emotions (nervous energy) and their overt
psycho-neuro-immunological effects in the interaction with other
variables such as socio-environment factors, which serve as
modifiers of the effects of psychosocial and physical stress on the
mental and physical health of the individual. Through these studies
there are now “sufficient data to conclude that immune modulations
by stressors and or interventions can lead to actual health changes”
(Kietcolt-Glaser et al., 2002). These have been documented in
various studies such as Oyewole’s (2001) study at the University of
Ilorin Teaching Hospital (UITH), Nigeria on puerperal (pre- and
post-natal) depression prevalent among low-income middle-aged
women, with poor social support; Smith and Ruiz’ (2002) study in
the USA on psychosocial influences in the development and course
of coronary heart disease (CHD), linked to psychosocial influences
and mental stress and negative emotions among a selected samples of
socially isolated patients with low levels of perceived social support;
and the studies by Kietcolt-Glaser et al. (2002) on the psychological
influences on immune function alteration and health in a select
clinical control group, also in the USA.
For an illness that reduces and weakens the potentialities for the
creative efforts of affected persons, Dance/Movement Therapy could
– through the mastery of dance skills/movements – help the mentally
ill achieve a range of controlled, coordinated and flexible body
movements, pleasurable attitudes, a sense of orderliness,
determination, mental alertness and focus, intuitive perception and
poise, which are all geared towards a keener awareness of their
individuality and wholesome living. Instances or studies in the US
which demonstrate this include Adler’s (2007) study of Authentic
Movement as a form of ‘creative expression, meditative discipline
 DANCE MOVEMENT ANALYSIS AS PSYCHO-DIAGNOSTIC TOOL 293

and psycho-therapeutic endeavour in the treatment of autism in

children; Chodorow’s (2007) study of dance as active imagination in
the (psycho)analysis of the mentally ill; and Caplow-Linder’s (1979)
study of therapeutic dance/movement as expressive creative activities
for older adults. And because therapeutic dance as a modification
programme is concerned with learning through sensing (and
awareness of the self in movement), it could serve as an attitudinal
communication which expresses perceptions that can be intuitively
evaluated.
Significantly, explorations of conceptual and/or subjective
knowledge and application of such psychological technique to mental
health conditions exposes the relationship between dance and the
creation of harmony between the mind and body; this suggests an
awakening to intuitive thoughts as complementing concepts and
analytical thought are linked to the perceptual order. Though intuition
is a natural analytic method, when subjected to concrete tests it can
yield scientific evidence which relates to the opinions expressed.
Presenting the value of intuition as a mode of thought and learning,
Glaxton (in Clarke, 2007: 36) perceives it to be:

A kind of knowing which is essentially indirect, sideways, allusive and

symbolic; which hints and evokes touches and moves in ways that resist
explication.

Describing how it helps learning, akin to the ‘process of osmosis’, he

adds that intuition:

Works through a relaxed yet precise, non-verbal attention to details of a

situation, to the actual effect of one’s intervention, without any explicit
commentary of justification or judgment, and without deliberately
hunting for a conscious, articulate mental grasp.

Studies grounded in the fundamentals of emotional intelligence

have thus exhibited the benefits of the inclusion of a variety of
activities in the broad domain of psychotherapy, including mind/body
interaction techniques. Based on understanding relationships among
cognitions, emotions, personality and social variables to determine,
detect and inquire into the mind’s capacity, the process and activity
of perception (expressed through thought vibrations or movements),
not only affect bodily functions and symptoms, but also influence
the diagnosis and treatment of mental illness. As a result, there is a
developing interest amongst psychoanalytical therapists, including
294 GLADYS IJEOMA AKUNNA

dance/movement therapists, in non-verbal communication as part of

learning processes and subjective experiences that reveal choices of
body and mind, in “how [the body] moves, behaves and organizes
itself in relation to the world” (Clarke, 2007: 37).
It is the understanding of these relationships in their determinate
interactive form, through seeking and maintaining a holistic
engagement of the “self” with the complex and dynamic rhythm of
our intricately diverse world, that the practice of dance is particularly
useful as a therapeutic tool. An objective scientific correlation of
dance as a therapeutic form stems from the desire both to free and to
energize the body in order to fully comprehend and consciously
actualize its own human capabilities, through expressing usefulness
through coordinated thoughts and activities, along the lines of
physical, social and psychological realities.
Indeed, every life form is substantiated and manifested in
activities which are psychologically and sociologically derived. As
such, to all intents and purposes, life for the human being is all about
“mindfulness” in all engagements of the “self,” through motion. Each
simple motion of any body part reveals some features of the
subconscious life and is based on an inner excitement of nerves,
either brought about by an immediate sense impression or stored up
memories. This is what brings about the voluntary and involuntary
impulse to move. It may be this ability of dance/movement to explore
the intricate, sometimes, indiscernible and or abstract notions of
existence that informed Albert Einstein’s thoughts and shaped his
theories. Einstein must have observed movement to be the very
essence of life, since he used dance as a metaphor for the process of
being and becoming. He conceived of life as synonymous with
movement and dance when he postulated that “human beings, atoms
and cosmic dust, all dance to a mysterious tune in-toned in the
distance by an invisible player” (Cowing and Baldwin, 2005).
Fraliegh (1998: 135-43) thinks that existence, as that state of
being-in the-world, is the “perpetual dance inside of us, reflected in
perceivable words and gestures ... actions and passions ... and infinite
combination of sound and bodily motions in the various arts”, and
that the human being as “the dancer deals not just with movement,
but with the motivational source, idea, metaphor behind the
movement … which the movement brings to the mind according to
the content of the dance”. Laban (1972: 2) succinctly notes that
“shapes and rhythms (in movement) reveal the moving person’s
attitude to a particular situation and characterize moods and reactions
 DANCE MOVEMENT ANALYSIS AS PSYCHO-DIAGNOSTIC TOOL 295

as well as the constant features of the personality” in social

interactive processes. The human body, the physical instrument for
performance of tasks, which the thinking, feeling, acting self utilizes
to carry out its purpose of being-in the-world, ought to be given
prominent attention in understanding “textures, meanings and
motions of existence”. Thus the human being merges with the bodily
motions that he/she experiences.
Consequently, human movements do not mean anything in
themselves; rather, their meanings are determined by their grounding
in the context or horizon of time. For instance, as Akunna (2006)
intimated on the nature of African dance as psycho-therapeutic
medium, there is evidence from some scholarly sources (such as
Hanna (1965) and Spencer (1985), among others), exhibiting the
psychological properties of dance with respect to specific categories
of African dances, especially those of women. These include puberty
rites of passage, and maternity, ritual and protest dances among
certain ethnic groups in Africa, which situate dance as a complex
psychological interactive human behaviour by means of which the
individual concerned incorporated perceivable forms of peculiar
experiences in dance activities to facilitate a better understanding of
their experiences. These representations, symbolic for artistic dance
forms, reveal individual predispositions with regard to aspects of
their subjective world. As Layiwola (1990) observed, in some east
African societies dances could be forms of meta-language with
articulated fundamental realities in forms of indexical dramatic
expressions, and should thus be viewed as surface perceptions of
experiences, which are processed and interpreted in converted
phenomena reflected in artistic experience.
The aforementioned observations are affirmations focused on the
analysis of overt characteristics of flow of movements in relation to
perceptional studies, which apply concepts, terms and methods
developed in the study of bodily movements as a pure essence of
personal identity, to understand human functioning and/or behaviour
and potential in social interactive contexts. This includes psycho-
pathological conditions and explains why, in relation to intuitive
perceptual knowledge and practices, movement observation analysis
is considered a relevant function within the operating system of
dance movement therapy as a therapeutic process.
This study projects movement observation analysis as a
behavioural assessment strategy, which could be utilized as a
scientific form of treatment procedure in contemporary Nigerian
296 GLADYS IJEOMA AKUNNA

medical practice. Its bases are hinged on the structural approach to

the non-verbal behavioural mode as “a tightly organized and self-
contained social system” (Duncan, 1981) through modalities that can
reveal the relationship between body motions and the characteristic
sequences and conditions in which they occur.
As such, beyond the cultural roles which may interfere with
diagnostic and therapeutic procedures (Jegede, 1998), this form of
test assesses how the internal structure, nature and degree of
occurrence of human kinetic behaviour can interact with other
variables of interest in the diagnosis of some mental illnesses such as
depression and schizophrenia. Apart from revealing the contribution
of the discipline of dance towards achieving a healthy society, the
discourse further enhances the body of emerging knowledge on the
scientific and medical objectives of dance as a psycho-therapeutic
technique in Nigerian society. In contemporary Nigeria, largely due
to ignorance about the salience of dance as a self-regulating
technique, this value has not been incorporated into contemporary
medical practice, despite its reality as a prominent form of folk
‘medicine’.
In traditional African societies, including Nigeria, the values and
healing powers of dances were utilized in varied psychological and
sociological contexts to advance a sense of wellbeing , especially
along the lines of personality growth and transformation. According
to Layman (1972: 164), a healthy personality connotes:

Peace of mind. . . . relative freedom from tension and anxiety, ability to

direct hostile feelings into creative and constructive channels,
sensitivity and responsiveness to others … ability to give and receive
love, spontaneity and emotional expression in appropriate form, ability
to adjust to changes, feelings of security, a sense of self-worth, positive
integration and socialization objectives, flexibility, appropriate balance
and the capacity to enjoy life.

Consequently, addressing developmental needs in the human process,

as Nobles (1986) states, entails efforts at understanding and defining
the essence of being and individuality, growth and change through
activity, a condition of order, integrity in social interaction, purpose
and direction, as the human person adjusts to physical and
psychosocial environments against the background of varied levels
and qualities of conflict and struggle (stress responses) to life. This
suggests that, in normal situations, there is a conscious effort at
acquiring, harnessing and controlling physical and psychological
 DANCE MOVEMENT ANALYSIS AS PSYCHO-DIAGNOSTIC TOOL 297

energies to preserve and maintain body tissues for healthy living and
growth. The observable effects in neuropsychological coordination
include a high degree of sustainable “self-synchrony, organization
and articulation among body parts, including the area of speaking”
(Duncan, 1981). Conversely, in diseased emotional conditions there
is a breakdown (owing to stress responses) and the loss of a
conscious hold on “mindfulness” over the body, resulting in varied
degrees of disruptions in the body’s self-synchrony, leading to bodily
disease and mental anxiety. The effects are usually vented in non-
verbal bodily motions, which are accompanied by gestures, facial
expressions and steps (bodily movements) with pathological
emotional states, as in the case of depressive/schizophrenic illness.
Studies utilizing movement observation, for instance, to detect
and/or investigate symptoms of depressive illness as a result of an
affective disorder – melancholy, despair, anger, helplessness, etc.
over a period of a month or more – seek to establish the conditions,
nature and degree of severity of the illness. And though depressive
illness in bipolar or unipolar forms can yield confusing symptoms,
responsive and careful inquiry into the patient’s subjective
background, where the psychotic, disrupted and/or suppressed vital
life forces reside, can help to interpret the surface communication of
movement expressions of the body. These expressions are otherwise
known as the body flow of a patient, in either the static or dynamic
positions – for instance, the symptom of restlessness (agitated
depression) inhibition (psychomotor retardation) phobia, obsession,
panic attack (agoraphobia), excessive tiredness and weakness,
excessive sadness and loss of vitality, varying degrees of excitement
including hypomanic or manic excitement in bipolar and unipolar
illness.
Underlying these behavioural symptoms – within the context of
interpersonal relationships, entailing transference from the
consciousness of the sufferer, through bodily motions of feelings,
concepts and ideas embedded in the diseased conditions of
affective/schizophrenic illness to the therapist – is the reality of the
close relationship between natural expression of physical bodily
motions and the psychical impulses. And because as a concept,
movement is the basic substance of all dance, including therapeutic
dance, the ideas, sentiments or emotions expressed in behavioural
terms become valid materials for analysis in testing expression in
dance movement therapy procedures.
298 GLADYS IJEOMA AKUNNA

There are, of course, symptoms of some depressive/

schizophrenic illness, such as hypothalamic symptoms, that require
intervention. Because of the physical and psychological dimensions
of the illness, there is usually the need for corroboration of
knowledge and means of measurement in diagnostic and treatment
processes, particularly the more severely malignant varieties with
overt clinical symptoms. Certain psychological procedures –
including the Social-Adjustment Scale, Beck’s inventory, Hamilton
Rating Scale for Depression, Zing’s Self-rating Depression Scale, the
Depression Scale of the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory
(MMPH), though with verbal communication connotations in
psychoanalysis – are also leading measuring instruments for
assessing subjective impression and personality traits expressed
mainly by flow of bodily movements (White, 1982).
Certain non-verbal communication modalities utilized
spontaneously in daily interactions in different degrees in the context
of social interaction may, according to limited illustrated studies, be
incorporated into the process of diagnosis of depressive/
schizophrenic illness in clinical contexts. These include body
motions or kinetic behaviour, gestures and other bodily movements,
including facial expressions, eye movements and posture, linguistic
vocalization and other non-language sounds, proxemics (the use of
personal and social space) and the perception of them. Others include
olfaction, skin sensitivity to touch, the use of artefacts, such as dress
and make-up. Incorporating these into experiments based on
structural psychotherapy requires, according to Duncan (1981: 126-
138), the need to be conversant with the “communication” rules
governing what behaviours may occur and in what mental illness
context as well as their organization and pattern. It would also entail
a meticulous descriptive analysis of what situations they occur in,
and set out to establish their characteristic nature over a given time
frame.
Ultimately, what the experiments would aim at is applying
concepts and terms developed in the study of movement as
communication to human health behaviour, taking into consideration
the parallels between psycho-social influences, emotional
components and immune responses in a bid to analyze and interpret
the process of therapeutic dance. Analysis of existing science,
medical, arts and dance literature in Nigeria reveals a dearth of
research in therapeutic dance. Unlike in the cultures of Europe and
America, where as a result of the relevance attached to dance as a
 DANCE MOVEMENT ANALYSIS AS PSYCHO-DIAGNOSTIC TOOL 299

significant human behaviour with scientific and medical objectives,

dance movement therapy is grounded in empirical studies. In
cotemporary Nigeria, as the rest of Africa, the vast opportunities
inherent in dance as a self-image builder or body-enhancing therapy
still lie undiscovered, in spite of the acknowledgement of the art of
dance as perhaps the most prominently recognized indigenous social
aesthetic, form of self-knowledge and self-regulating device.
This trend notwithstanding, the relevance of significant
indigenous cultural knowledge can never be over-emphasized, since
it is through such expression that technology may be conceived,
created and promoted through experimenting with natural or socio-
historical resources to enhance human life. Consequently, given the
healing objectives of dance in traditional Nigerian experience, there
is a need to substantiate the speculative claims for dance as a healing
mechanism with scientific and experimental data-based findings.
As a psychotherapeutic medium, the idea of therapeutic dance
involves the notion of defining and regulating unconscious
background and behaviour to achieve human personality wellbeing
and development. Its value rests on its potential and ability to help
patients understand and gain control of their senses, vital life forces
and their body’s creative energies and the ego (body sensing), and
effecting healing via its constituent elements, namely rhythm, pulse,
balance and coordination, positive (alignment) breath (self-control)
and cognitive affections, among other things.
Consequently, the major issues examined in this discourse are:

x The way that movement or dance as a natural psychological

procedure can access the interior life and through this be able to
interpret the disease states of the mental domain as a pre-requisite
to offering solutions to their cure;
x Ascertaining its methods of operation;
x Exploring how it could serve as supportive therapy or even as a
substitute for verbal interviews in fostering an understanding of the
interplay between psychological functioning and health in the area
of diagnosis and treatment of mental illness; and
x Determining its reliability as a psycho-diagnostic tool.

The extent of its potential for diagnosing and modifying behavioural

disorders will depend largely on the therapist’s understanding and
application of the procedure. For despite patients’ resistance to
therapy through different defence mechanisms – dilemma, faulty
perception of interpersonal experiences – the therapeutic process
300 GLADYS IJEOMA AKUNNA

involves technical means based on an intuitive understanding and

appreciation of fine nuances of emotional needs of individual
patients, via the art of analysis. Added to this reality is the fact that
all mental illnesses, the degree of severity notwithstanding, will
always embody behavioural expressions, through the suffering body,
particularly when subjected to particular locomotive tests. Thus
Argyle (1988: 1, 2) postulates that:

Bodily communication plays a central part in human social behaviour

… in more important ways … and intricate part than had previously
been realized ... Beyond the sphere of social psychology … and other
areas of study concerned with human behaviour – linguistics,
philosophy, politics and theology, for example … there are also
practical implications in the treatment of mental patients.

Going beyond diagnosis to practical therapeutic application of

bodily movements in conventional psychiatric medical practice, he
asserts:

There is increasing use of social skills training (SST) in (non-verbal

communication) for many classes of mental patients, but especially for
outpatients, neurotics, disturbed adolescents, depressives and for people
who are lonely or isolated. Very often the NVC [non-verbal
communication] of these patients needs training, since they tend to
smile, gesture and look less than normal and to deviate in some more
specific ways.

This perspective, alongside others, indicates dance (movement) as a

reliable, natural, yet mechanistic psycho-diagnostic tool for refining
body sensing in the treatment of certain mental illnesses, and it
proposes useful dance movements, psycho-diagnosis and treatment
methods which can be demonstrated as support programmes to
safeguard and sustain individual and societal health in modern
Nigeria in the 21st century.

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302 GLADYS IJEOMA AKUNNA

Smith, T.W. and Ruiz, J.M. 2002. Psycho-Social Influence on the

Development and Course of Coronary Disease: Current Status and
Implications for Research and Practices. Journal of Consulting and
Clinical Psychiatry. 70(3).
Spencer, P. 1985. Society and the Dance: The Social Anthropology of
Process and Performance. London: University Press.
White, J. 1982. The Masks of Melancholy. Glasgow: Collins Intervarsity
Press.
 PART III
PLAYWRIGHTS AND PERFORMANCE
CHAPTER 12

TREADING SUBTLY ON VOLATILE GROUND:

AHMED YERIMA’S HARD GROUND AND THE
DRAMATIZATION OF THE NIGER DELTA CRISIS IN
NIGERIA
OSITA EZENWANEBE

INTRODUCTION: THE NIGER DELTA CRISIS IN NIGERIA

Nigerian theatre is alive to the socio-political upheavals of the post-
military era. Not only does it capture the people’s quest for freedom,
but also intervenes in the politics of power and economic relevance
between the government and the people. Heightened ethnic militancy
with its attendant violence is one of the problems that confront
Nigeria’s fourth republic as the people emerged from long years of
repressive, military rule to embrace a democratic government in
1999. Various youth movements sprang up to act as the mouthpiece
for their ethic nationalities, agitating for the realization of their
collective goals and aspirations.1The first performance of Yerima’s
Hard Ground at the National Theatre, Lagos, Nigeria in February,
2007 was both timely and interventionist, considering the high level
of violence and political unrest in the country. Participants at a two-
day conference on “Urban Violence, Ethnic Militias and the
Challenge of Democratic Consolidation in Nigeria” concluded,
among other things, that the phenomenon of ethnic militia with the
attendant escalation of violence is “a reflection of fundamental
deformities and injustice in the Nigerian state and society”2
(Babawale, 2003: vii).
The Niger Delta crisis is seen by many as a people’s resistance to
such fundamental deformities and injustice. The crisis in the Niger
Delta, South-South Nigeria, emanates from the people’s resistance to
what Osuoka refers to as “The rape of the Niger Delta” seen in the
“plunder of the land and the degradation of the people” right from the
time when palm oil replaced a human commodity (slaves) for
306 OSITA EZENWANEBE

colonial trade. The “rape”, Osuoka explains, becomes deeper and

more devastating with the operation of the multinational oil
companies in the region, which makes

…all stages of oil activities – from exploration and drilling to

transportation – result in the destruction of the natural environment and
the livelihood of local people who depend on the land for survival.
Forests and mangroves are cleared. Community farmlands are
destroyed; wetlands, creeks and community fish ponds are polluted, and
the air and rain water are contaminated with dangerous gasses flared
indiscriminately by oil and gas producing companies (Osuoka, 2003:
116).

The pain of the Niger Deltans is aggravated by what they see as the
collaboration of the oil and gas companies with the Nigerian
government, which has neglected issues of development in the area
and has instead employed the use of force to subdue and crush the
people’s uprising against the multinational oil companies.
Consequently, there is a deep feeling of oppression and injustice
among the people, with a total loss of hope in the Nigerian nation.
With the emergence of more militant movements such as the Niger
Delta People’s Volunteer Force and the Movement for the
Emancipation of the Niger Delta (MEND), the crisis takes on a more
frightful dimension. Several attacks on oil installations in the area
and the disruption of oil activities compelled the federal government
to deploy troops in the area; the region became more militarised and
the crisis deepened. With the militant’s declaration of “oil war”, and
the horrifying prevalence of hostage-taking and kidnapping, the crisis
assumes a more complex and dangerous dimension.
Emotions are running high and peoples and groups adopt varying
and often conflicting stances towards the crisis and its solution. The
indigenes insist on control of the resources and on true federalism
(Akinyemi, 2003). The oil companies insist that “There is need for
them and the government to work closely together to maintain
security in the Delta or oil production would cease altogether … that
the Delta is in a state of mindless chaos and needs the presence of
security officers to provide a peaceful environment for oil workers to
operate”, while the Nigerian government “sees the crisis in the Delta
as purely a security matter, insisting that the country is dependent on
the oil wells to power its economy, and that any action designed to
endanger this ought to be treated as treason or economic sabotage”
(Okonta, 2008:13). Other people have their own opinions and
 TREADING SUBTLY ON VOLATILE GROUND 307

viewpoints depending on their ideological, ethnic, political or

economic interests. But the fact remains that, in the words of Emeka
Anyaoku, “Force can’t solve the Niger Delta Crisis”, and most
importantly that “The country must recognise that we now have in
the Niger Delta region a major crisis with potentially perilous
implications that will go beyond our national economy, if not
properly resolved” (Anyaoku, 2008: 1).
Hard Ground (2005), first produced February 2007, is Ahmed
Yerima’s personal response to the issue of the Niger Delta crisis. As
the director of the National Theatre in Nigeria, and the Artistic
Director of the National Troupe, Ahmed Yerima gives a literary
response in the form of a play that provides an opportunity for the
performance of the crisis on stage. Though Hard Ground was first
published in 2006, its impact in social intervention was felt after its
first performance in 2007. It was also produced in different parts of
the country in an eight-day official tour. The threads of extreme
emotion and conflicting viewpoints make the issue of the Niger Delta
a volatile topic, which must be handled with the utmost subtlety and
tact.

THEORETICAL AND METHODOLOGICAL FRAMEWORK

FOR THE RESEARCH
This paper is a critical appraisal of Yerima’s successes and failures in
recreating and representing the Niger Delta crisis in his play Hard
Ground. The play won the LNG (Liquefied Natural Gas) prize for
literature in 2007. This critical study of the play is rooted in both
formalist and sociological theories of art. Formalism upholds the
view that a work of art is a self-contained entity capable of having
meaning on its own without any external reference – a view that
critics sometimes refer to as art for art’s sake. Formalism postulates
that the meaning of the work of art is first and foremost locked within
the work itself. This implies, therefore, that readers of literary art are
to first unlock the meaning in the work through a critical analysis of
the interplay of its formal elements such as plot, character and
characterisation, style, language, dialogue, etc. which, from the
formalist point of view, make it first of all an art form. For some
formalists such as the English 19th-century playwright and critic,
Oscar Wilde, the primary aim of art is to create artistic beauty for the
delight of its audience. The Russian formalist Victor Shklovsky
insists that technique is the key to the creation and unravelling of
such beauty. According to him, “Art is a way of experiencing the
308 OSITA EZENWANEBE

artfulness of an object; the object is not important” (Shklovsky,

1965:12). Many playwrights’ unwillingness to comment on the
meaning of their work presupposes the view that the meaning is
locked within the work itself.
Sociological theories offer an alternative view of art which is the
complete opposite of formalism. They are functional theories that
situate the work of art within its social context or the context of a
particular situation. For the proponents of a sociological theory of art,
the work of art such as a play is a reflection or a representation of the
socio-political, economic, religious and cultural life of the people.
Drama, for example, is seen as the product of a people’s way of life.
Almost all African artists would agree with Malcolm Bradbury’s
view that “literature is incomprehensible without some real sense of
society, whether of our time or that in which it was written”
(Bradbury, 1971: xii–xiii). For the sociological theorists art is not a
self-contained entity; the meaning of the work of art is located
somewhere outside it and without access to this external context the
critic can only arrive at half-truths. There are conflicting views
among the proponents of sociological theories as to how best art can
represent or embody social realism. Most accomplished dramatists
such as Wole Soyinka of Nigeria, Bertolt Brecht of Germany, Athol
Fugard of South Africa, to mention but a few, advocate the practice
whereby the subject matter of the play, taken from the culture of the
people, thereby embodying the social reality of the people, is
represented in such a way that the playwright maintains some degree
of artistic distance from the issues dramatised.
Art cannot therefore be divorced from the social reality that gives
birth to it. The reality of life in Africa particularly commands the
attention of the critic and the creative artist. “Only those insensitive
to the misery of the people”, Mubarak Mustafa said, “can lock
themselves up in a room full of flights of imagination” (Mustafa,
2001:6). Proponents of sociological theories firmly believe that art
can be used for social intervention and transformation. The
theoretical framework for this study can therefore be summarised by
the words of Abiola Irere, who writes that:

Criticism must at all times be informed by lively awareness of form,

which after all is what determines the nature of literature in the first
place… it is equally inadequate to offer the internal structure of a
literary work as an account of it… while bracketing out the human
experience of which it is an expression (Irere in Ogunbiyi, 1998: 96).
 TREADING SUBTLY ON VOLATILE GROUND 309

The method of analysis of the primary data for this research, Ahmed
Yerima’s Hard Ground, is both descriptive and evaluative, informed
by a critical mixture of concepts from formalist and sociological
theories of art. Specifically, the model of structuralism in the
sociology of literature, propounded by Diana Lawrenson and
supported in practice by the cultural critic Raymond Williams, will
be used. According to Diana Lawrenson, structuralism in the
sociology of literature pinpoints the literary work as the datum of
research, seeing it as a layered system of meanings which add up to
an integrated whole and which is closely related to, but not wholly
determined by, external factors (Lawrenson and Swingwood,
1971:62).
The play is analysed by first of all critically examining the
organisational pattern of its inter-related elements and then relating
them to the social reality of the Niger Delta crisis. Attention is paid
not just to the people’s experiences and the issues of the crisis, but
most importantly to the pattern of the experiences recreated in the
play. The researcher is convinced that the dual method of descriptive
and evaluative criticism is capable of unravelling the depth of the
meaning of the play.

AHMED YERIMA’S HARD GROUND (2005) AS ART

You have to be very careful about what (you say) and how you are
saying it, because this country is very unpredictable. So I am not going
to say things in a blunt manner simply because I want to be politically
committed. (Bole Butake quoted by Ekhard Breitinger in Banham et al.,
2002: 7).

This section examines Yerima’s method of recreating the Niger Delta

crisis in the play Hard Ground. The argument of the researcher is
that the playwright’s techniques, his style of representation,
constitute his method of treading subtly on hazardous ground, which
is the crisis in the Niger Delta. In the play Hard Ground he uses a
wealth of techniques to transpose social reality into a work of art,
thereby maintaining a critical distance from the social reality.

THE STORY AND THE DRAMATIC VISION

The first step the playwright takes in defamiliarising the subject of
the Niger Delta crisis is to craft or weave out of it a wholly fictitious
story, as he states clearly in the Author’s Note: “In this entirely
fictitious play, the only thing that is real is the human mind”
310 OSITA EZENWANEBE

(Yerima, 2005:6). The playwright is aware that he is dealing with a

volatile subject with different shades of emotion and nuanced
viewpoints, and so he tactically chooses to re-arrange reality.
Hard Ground is the story of filial relations in a time of crisis.
Nimi, the protagonist of the play, is the son of Mama and Baba. Baba
in his youth raped Mama and made her pregnant. Out of sympathy
Mama married him to prevent her brothers from drowning him in a
stream as they had planned to. Nimi, the protagonist of the play, is
the product of that sexual violence. He lived with his parents, Baba
and Mama, in an army barracks in Lagos until one day his mother’s
sickness (seizures) manifested at a market place. Because of that,
Baba abandoned her and married another woman, Amatu. Nimi’s
mother decided to send Nimi back to the village, in the swamps, to
continue his education and learn the ways of their people so as to
avoid his growing up watching her sickness.
Unfortunately, Nimi could not stand the inhumanity and
degradation of life in the area, so he joined a militant group of boys
who “vow to fight for the good of their people” (27). He organised
one of their planned attacks on an oil pipeline, but someone gave
them away and the police laid an ambush, attacked them and killed
eighteen of the boys. The police also raided the camp and arrested
seven, including Nimi. Six of them were executed the night when
Nimi’s mother gave money to her brother, Inyingfaa, to pay the
ransom for Nimi’s head and bring him back to Lagos. Two of the
boys who ran into the shrine of Tingolongo, a god of the land, were
also killed, one of them right there in Tingolongo’s shrine.
In Lagos both Baba and Inyingfaa insist on finding out from
Nimi, the scorpion, what happened at the camp and who the spy was,
while Mama is more concerned with dissuading him from continuing
with the struggle. The fact is that the Don has placed a death sentence
on the spy and Nimi is the suspect. Nimi is suspicious of Father
Kingsley, to whom he goes for confession before and after every
operation. Mama’s emotional persuasion seems to have worked as
Nimi decides to give up the struggle, having been assured that his
pregnant partner, Pikibo, whom he sees dead in a dream, will live,
with Mama giving the unborn child the name Datubo (Hope). A
delegation of Niger Delta people living in Lagos – Alabo, Christy
and Tonye – pays Nimi a congratulatory visit and gives him gifts of
cloths and drinks in appreciation of his fighting for freedom in the
swamp back home. At the height of their merriment, during which
Nimi becomes tipsy, they castigate the so-called corrupt governor
 TREADING SUBTLY ON VOLATILE GROUND 311

who squanders the money given to him for the development of the
area. Nimi also dramatises his confrontation with the governor on the
day the governor visited the swampy area. At this point Mama enters
and chases them away, not knowing that her son, Nimi, has already
been poisoned by them. Just then Inyingifaa breaks the news that the
Don, the commander of the militant group, has agreed to visit the
family. Before the Don’s visit, Tingolongo appears to Nimi, just as
he is recovering from the poison, in protest at the killing which
deprives the gods of their worshippers. Tingolongo succeeds in
frightening Nimi, who pleads for his life.
As Nimi is recovering from a second bad dream about the death
of Pikibo and his unborn son, Inyingfaa brings the news that the
vulture, the spy who betrayed the boys, a pregnant policewoman, has
been found and that she and her unborn child have been horribly
butchered to death on the orders of the Don. The spy turns out to be
Nimi’s partner, Pikibo. Nimi is mad with rage against the Don, who
he says should have spared Pikibo for him. He then makes up his
mind to take revenge on the Don for their deaths. He plans this with
his mother, and as the Don steps into their house, masked, Nimi cuts
him down. It turns out that the Don is Baba, Nimi’s father.
What is the intention of the playwright in telling this long, sad
story, and how did he organise the story to achieve his purpose?
Before the playwright chooses a story, he has already made up his
mind what to do with it (to embody the theme of the play). In an
interview with Nnenyelike, Yerima stated that:

In order to achieve my target, what I do is that, right from the moment I

am gathering the materials, I became consciously aware of what I want
to do with them. In order not to distort history, I bring in embellishment
elements for aesthetic purpose… historical embellishment (Yerima,
2007: 8-9).

THE DRAMATIC VISION

What the playwright sets out to do with this story is the theme of the
play, that is, his dramatic vision, which John Gassner defines as “a
fundamental view of life itself” (1968: 109). Yerima specifically sets
out to dissuade young people from joining the armed struggle against
the federal might, because of its fatal consequences for them and by
implication for the future of the people. This is certainly a very
difficult and delicate message to convey to youths in the reality of the
struggle in the Niger Delta and the historical antecedents to it, as
explained at the beginning of this chapter. Hard Ground was written
312 OSITA EZENWANEBE

and the story dramatised in the heat of the struggle, when the wounds
of the past were still very fresh in the minds of young people and
others, and their blood was still hot, very hot. The playwright is
aware that he has a delicate message to convey, that he is treading on
dangerous ground. The historical embellishments he brings in are the
subtle ways in which he distances the play Hard Ground from the
social reality it dramatises.
The playwright is of the opinion that the youths are certainly
getting the worst of the struggle, and he sets out to use the means at
his disposal to persuade them to drop their guns for more viable
alternatives such as education, which opens the door to a gradual
process of social regeneration. Mama appeals to Nimi: “I want you to
go back to school. With education, you can still fight. That time more
people will listen to you. People always believe these days that a man
who did not go to school should not be believed” (29). Hard Ground
is a playwright’s protest against the waste of human life in the Niger
Delta crisis. It is a plea for peace, for according to Nwabueze; “The
challenge on humanity is to find ways of diffusing tension and
minimising the divisive and diversionary effects of group differences
since inter-group differences are an inevitable feature of the human
society” (2003: 3).
Hard Ground is a tool in conflict resolution and for diffusing
tension. It is also a study in inter-group relations, since that branch of
study focuses on, among other things, the different approaches to
“diffusing tension between different groups and creating or building
bridges across potential or actual conflict relationships, or directly
promoting harmony” (Nwabueze, 2003: 4). Most art is dedicated to
the advancement of people in society. It embodies a vision of life as a
reconciliation of opposites, which for John Gassner constitutes an
authentic dramatic approach to reality, that is:

… a view of life as a condition of disequilibrium, a state of crisis,

conflict and change; and dramatic vision encompasses movement
toward some new equality, however temporary or tentative, or
movement toward a reconciliation of opposites that makes survival or
sanity possible (1968:109).

YERIMA’S STYLE OF REPRESENTATION

How Yerima does transmit this message to the audience? In
transmitting the message of peace in the Niger Delta, in which the
playwright chooses to appeal to the youths to desist from violent
struggle, Yerima uses a wealth of techniques, an aspect of what he
 TREADING SUBTLY ON VOLATILE GROUND 313

calls “historical embellishments”, in order to achieve the ends of art,

which are instruction and delight.

THE TECHNIQUE OF CHARACTERISATION: THE

CHOICE OF SPOKESPERSONS
One of the most outstanding techniques employed by the playwright
is his characterisation, that is, the nature of the characters he uses to
dissuade Nimi from participating in the struggle. They are a mother,
Mama; a supernatural presence (god), Tingolongo; and one of the
representatives of the town people in Lagos, Alabo. The choice of
Mama is very thoughtful. In view of the inhumanity meted out to the
Niger Deltans, which precipitated the people’s violent opposition,
Yerima knows that there is no argument used in dissuading young
people that cannot be faulted on logical grounds. Hence he uses
Nimi’s mother, Mama, who abandons all logical arguments and
focuses on a mother’s need for the life of her only son. To achieve
her purpose, Mama goes back to her past history to bring up pathetic
incidents of her life and uses them to appeal to Nimi emotionally.
These pathetic incidents include her being raped by Baba; her
sickness of the ‘grip’; the death of her only daughter; and her
loneliness after being abandoned by her husband, Baba, who marries
another wife because of her sickness. Mama uses her psychological
and emotional trauma to appeal to her son to drop the gun and live,
even if only for her sake. Mama’s kind of argument is very powerful
and she temporarily succeeds, as Nimi says: “Not anymore, Mama. I
understand everything now. I am sorry” (30).
Concerning the Don who commands and controls the activities of
the boys, Mama said: “What useless man sends children to their early
deaths, all in the name of his dream state. I say what sort of useless
man?” (p. 14). Her unreserved condemnation of the action of the
Don, even in his presence (though unknowingly), does not sound
offensive in the context of her agony for her only son. Her comments
can easily be brushed aside as women’s talk, more so the talk of a
woman blinded by her love for her only son. The choice of Mama as
a spokesman for the playwright’s message is one of the ways Ahmed
Yerima transposed the reality of the Niger Delta crisis into a work of
art meant for the stage.
The use of Tingolongo places the argument in the realm of the
divine, far beyond human argument and hence infallible. Tingolongo
is a god, the symbol of death who brings out the ignorance and the
childishness in Nimi as seen in the dialogue below:
314 OSITA EZENWANEBE

Tingolongo: I am death!
Nimi: I know. That is why I ask with my head bowed.
Tingolongo: (…) Now you cower. I thought you said you were not
afraid to die?
Nimi: I did. Forgive me. It was in moments of childish frenzy (on his
knees). Spare my life Tingolongo! (45).

Even the gods of the land disapprove of the human carnage in the
struggle because, according to Tingolongo:

The gods need the people! When you kill them all, who will worship
us? Who will pour libation at the shrines? Who will sing our praises?...
You have become a disease which robs the children of the swampy
fields of their future instead of giving them life. Childish fool! (48).

It is very difficult to fault the argument of Tingolongo on religious

ground. If the human carnage is not stopped soon, Tingolongo and
the other gods of the land will be left without children, just like
Mama. The playwright’s use of a supernatural being to further his
argument of the need to drop the gun is another instance of the
playwright’s cautious treatment of a risky subject.

THE TOOL OF IRONY

The use of dramatic and structural irony is another effective method
which the playwright uses to deal cautiously with the volatile issue.
Irony refers to a discrepancy between what is said and what is
actually the case. In structural irony the use of a naïve hero or
spokesman sustains the irony. M. H. Abrams explained that one
common device of structural irony is “the invention of a naïve hero,
or else a naïve narrator or spokesman whose invincible simplicity or
obtuseness leads him to persist in putting an interpretation on affairs
which the knowing reader who penetrates to, and shares the implicit
point of view of the authorial presence behind the naïve personal – is
called on to alter and correct” (1981: 90). In the play Nimi, the
protagonist, is a naïve hero, while Mama, Nimi’s mother, is a naïve
spokesman. Both are ignorant of the fact that Baba, Nimi’s father, is
the dreadful Don, knowledge which the playwright shares with
Inyingfaa and gradually the audience. This makes it dramatic irony.
Throughout the dramatic action (except during recognition),
Nimi and Mama believe that Baba is a coward, and hence they have
no idea whatsoever that he is the god of the swampy area who
dictates and controls the armed opposition of the boys. Nimi believes
 TREADING SUBTLY ON VOLATILE GROUND 315

that his father, Baba, stands aloof and unconcerned with the struggle
in the swampy area. He explains to Mama that it was imperative for
him to join in the struggle unless “you want to hide in the folds of
your wrapper, like Baba, and pretend all is well” (111). He confides
in Mama that he has to join the boys so as not to be called a coward
like his father: “I don’t want to be like my father, ever! He is seen as
a coward back home. I have had to live out the shame”, he says (28),
and when he heard that Baba said he will not be at home the night the
Don will visit their home, Nimi says: “Baba has failed me again!”
(55). Unknown to him, Baba is the Don who will visit them. In the
same vein Mama sees Baba, her husband, as a “poor, weak husband”
(31) who can do nothing to save her son, but she does not understand
Inyingfaa’s statement that “Only the Don can save him now” (20). It
is he, the Don, who as the commander of the Boys, has placed a
death sentence on Nimi, because it was erroneously believed that
Nimi is the traitor. Consequently, it is only he, the Don, who has the
power to remove the death sentence hanging over Nimi’s head.
The audience gradually learns that Baba is the Don. His solemn
disposition, his insistence on knowing what happened at the camp
and the responses that greet most of the references to him as a
coward give his identity away to the audience. For example, when
Nimi says he is a coward, Baba retorts sharply, “Leave him. He is
only a child” (11). Tingologno also retorts to a similar reference to
Baba: “Is he? The child sees the shark, and is happy he has a big fish
to play with when it is he who is the dinner” (47). The final
revelation of Baba as the Don is a source of dramatic entertainment,
for as David Hare says, “Nothing on stage is so exciting as a great
lie” (1981:3). Hard Ground delights the audience with this and the
other shocking revelations in the play: the revelation that Father
Kingsley was never ordained as a priest; the fact that Pikibo turns out
to be the much sought for spy, etc.
The plot of the play is consequently arranged in the form of
constant unmasking that makes Nimi grow in knowledge. Nimi is
presented as a childish hero – naïve and ignorant: “a little man in
trenches, planning the attacks of blocking the oil wells in trenches,
finding how well to kidnap the white man” (37). The play dramatises
his growth from ignorance to knowledge which reverses his fortune
and brings about the tragic end of the play. First, the knowledge of
his mother’s pathetic condition makes him think of abandoning the
struggle. The confrontation with Tingolongo exposes his fear of
death and his ignorance of hidden things. His realisation that Father
316 OSITA EZENWANEBE

Owei Kingsley is a fake, and the horrible murder of his hope in the
persons of Pikibo, his partner, and his unborn son, all help to push
him into embarking on a final revenge mission of killing the Don.
However, the open-ended nature of the play is the playwright’s tactic
of appealing to the intelligence of the audience in the hope that they
will complete the play with the ideology they bring to the theatre.
This is in line with Althusser’s theory that the play must be judged by
its likely effects on the audience rather than on the basis of some
abstract aesthetics proposed by the author. Adrian Page quotes
Althusser as proposing that “The play creates its own mechanism for
enabling a reflexive attitude to occur which causes the audience to
complete the text by reference to their own ideological leanings,
thereby achieving a degree of self-recognition” (Page 1992: 17).
Irony is a conspicuous part of Yerima’s style through which he
weaves the incidents of the play. It is the source of dramatic
entertainment in The Wives, The Sisters and Hard Ground, to
mention but a view.

THE USE OF MILD SATIRE

Yerima is a master of Horatian satire which, according to Abrams,
signifies the attitude of:

an urbane, witty, and tolerant man of the world, who is moved more to
wry amusement than to indignation at the spectacle of human folly,
pretentiousness, and hypocrisy, and who uses a relaxed and informal
language to evoke a smile at human follies and absurdities (1981: 168-
9).

In life also Yerima’s utterances have a gentle undercutting tone,

which can be quickly understood only by people with a critical mind.
In Hard Ground, the playwright uses gentle satire to create the tone
which indicates his attitude to his subject and his characters.
The playwright uses different forms of mild satire as a technique
of subtle denunciation with which he tactically dissociates himself
from certain issues or characters. For example, the playwright
dissociates himself from the viewpoints of the delegates of Nimi’s
people in Lagos, who shower him with gifts and urge him to go on
with the armed struggle. Coming at a time that the playwright,
through Mama, has barely succeeded in dissuading Nimi from
continuing with the armed struggle, and bringing in a different
ideology aimed at persuading him to go on with the struggle, the
playwright could not but undermine their gesture as empty and, in
 TREADING SUBTLY ON VOLATILE GROUND 317

fact, as suicidal. The playwright achieves this by making one of the

delegates poison Nimi’s drink at the height of their merriment; an
action that almost brought Nimi to an untimely death. The
implication is that both their support of the armed struggle and the
gift with which they express it are as fatal as the poisoned drink.
He punctures their visit by turning it into a comical, indeed
farcical, show. Nimi is tipsy and flaunts his gifts of new clothes
before his mother like a mere child. Mama does not receive them, but
chases the delegates away. The fact that they poison Nimi through
the drinks denotes that their gift is as poisonous as their view of the
continued arm struggle is murderous. The detailed description of the
killings is meant also to evoke a gut response of revulsion; for
example, Father Kingsley shouts: “Jesus! What kind of struggle is
this; it is beginning to eat up even our flesh?” (p. 50). With these
techniques Yerima succeeds in maintaining a critical distance from
the social reality. But did he succeed in reflecting the historical facts
or the social reality of the people?

HARD GROUND AND THE PROBLEM OF SOCIO-

HISTORICAL RELEVANCE
Both the content of a play and the style of its presentation are
important in determining its overall success. Either of them can affect
the audience’s interpretation of the play and consequently their
overall response. How realistic is Hard Ground when evaluated in
the light of the facts of the Niger Delta crisis? The issue of conviction
is crucial in representing social issues in drama. Audiences watching
spectacular displays such as pantomime do not bother so much about
the realism of what is done or how it is done. They are out to be
thrilled; but in this kind of drama they wish to be convinced both
about the ideas dramatised and how this is done.
In Hard Ground there are inconsistencies in the setting,
characterisation and theme that make the play sound utopian and
hence raise serious problems of conviction and acceptability. The
setting of the play is shrouded in ambiguity. From a close analysis of
the play, though, one can pick up hints or clues with which to
identify the setting of the play. The action takes place in a house in
Lagos, Nigeria, while the reported actions take place in the swampy
area. It is not clear whose house it is in Lagos. It is difficult to say
accurately whether it is the house of Baba and his second wife,
Amatu, or Mama’s house, where she lives alone after Baba abandons
her. One assumes that the house in Lagos is Mama’s house, since
318 OSITA EZENWANEBE

Mama is happy that the incident of Nimi’s crisis has brought her
closer to her husband. She tells Nimi: “Because of you, your father
has stayed and slept at home these past two days. He was even a
husband to me last night” (54); but Inyingfaa also said that Baba, as
the Don, rarely leaves his hideout, which suggests he is rarely at
Mama’s home.
However, the dual setting accords with the structure of the play.
The events in the play start in the middle; earlier events are reported
in the course of the action before the play finally ends. The dramatic
action starts at a house in Lagos; then past actions, that is, actions
preceding the raising of the curtain, are reported by means of
flashback: story-telling, reflection, etc. are set mostly in the swampy
area. The action then comes to an end in Lagos. Why is Yerima silent
on the setting? Is it one of the ways he rearranged history? Or is it an
attempt to universalise the play? If it is an attempt to universalise the
play, then there would have been no need to mention real places like
Lagos and Nigeria; a completely fictitious name would have been
more appropriate. The fact remains that the setting of the play is
ambiguous, and this I believe is part of the distancing techniques
with which the playwright shields himself from the dangerous issues
represented in the play.
The dramatist’s representation of the character of Nimi as a
militant leader in the play is not realistic, especially when placed
against the militancy of Niger Delta youths. Nimi may really be
naïve, but how convincing is it that all the boys go for confession to a
priest before and after each operation? The confession where Nimi
confesses his past and intended sins to Father Kingsley is unrealistic.
And in an ironic twist, it is Father Kingsley who makes a confession
of being a fake to Nimi.3
The fact that nothing much is said about the federal government
and the multinational oil and gas companies makes the message of
the play sound idealistic and hollow, because it does not address the
real crisis. Hard Ground is performed before audiences who are
informed about the historical reality of the Niger Delta crisis. They
are aware of the social reality of the issue, the actions and reactions
of the federal might, and the past and present actions of the oil and
gas companies in the Niger Delta. To ignore their role in the crisis
and propound the thesis that the young should eschew violence and
take to education and dialogue sounds really utopian. The references
to the activities of middle men, governors and politicians who enrich
themselves with the people’s funds are made by Nimi under the
 TREADING SUBTLY ON VOLATILE GROUND 319

influence of alcohol and his actions in that scene are dramatised as a

childish display of ignorance when he is surrounded by sycophants.
Could it be that the playwright, as the director of the National Troupe
and the artistic director of the National Theatre, is cautious about
challenging the authority of the federal government, his employer,
and thereby imposes self-censorship on his writing; or is it one of the
ways that he treads cautiously on hazardous ground? Or is he
exercising his artistic freedom?
Akpos Adesi provides direct answers. In his essay, “Crisis of
characterization and Setting in Ahmed Yerima’s Hard Ground”, he
states that “The ambivalence that greets much of the work… lends
credence to the lack of understanding of the Niger Delta situation by
most outsiders (people of the Hinterland)” (Adesi, 2007: 119). He
therefore concludes that:

Hard Ground merely demonstrates the kind of bourgeois intelligence of

some of our literati who stand aloof in their ivory towers and align
themselves to the hegemony regarding burning national issues in their
quest for universal verities… (2007: 119).

Adesi faults the characterisation because, according to him, some of

the characters are neither Deltans nor fictional representatives of
them. He argues, for example, that the name Baba is Yoruba, not
Niger Deltan.
Adesi should remember, however, that Hard Ground is a work of
art and not a history of, or a sociological tract on, the Niger Delta
crisis. What he is looking for is a one-dimensional relationship
between art and social reality, a method rejected by accomplished
Marxist artists and critics as quasi-realism, which is a mechanistic
approach to life. It is emotional outbursts such as Adesi’s that make
the playwright use a wealth of artistic techniques to transpose social
reality so as to shield him from the politics of history.
However, the treatment of the same issue by a playwright who is
an indigene of Niger Delta differs significantly from that of Ahmed
Yerima and satisfies much of Adesi’s yearning for a more direct and
factual representation of social issues. In Tess Onwueme’s play Then
She Said It (2002) the representation of what the people see as the
oppressive activities of the federal government of Nigeria and those
of the multinational oil and gas companies are as unmediated as the
undaunted response of the host communities on whose land the oil is
drilled, especially women and the young ones. As a Niger Delta
woman, Tess Onwueme applauds women’s resistance to what she –
320 OSITA EZENWANEBE

like the women in the play – believes are the “rape” of Niger Delta
and the degradation of the people. She allows the pain of the
historical experience to affect her art of representing it in the same
way as the South African playwright, Maishe Maponya, pours out his
scorn, unmediated, on apartheid and its violent oppression of blacks
in the play Gangsters (1986). Ahmed Yerima’s artistic distance in
representing social reality in Hard Ground is similar to that of Athol
Fugard’s in Sizwe Bansi is Dead (1972), while that of Tess Onwueme
can be likened to Maponya’s approach in Gangsters. Though
Onwueme’s play can be seen as a more truthful account of the Niger
Delta crisis, her direct approach to the issue has serious consequences
for the play as an art form, especially in the critical distance to the
issues dramatised.

CONCLUSION
Hard Ground is theatre for social intervention. The playwright
succeeds in using some artistic elements to transpose social reality.
He uses a wealth of techniques, including flashbacks, structural and
dramatic irony, mild satire, dreams and the supernatural, etc. to
distance the work from the social reality it represents. Hence, though
the content of the play is realistic, what the playwright does is more
than realism. However, there are inconsistencies in setting,
characterisation and theme which undermine the immediate socio-
historical relevance of the play. Yerima’s assessment of his historical
plays can be applied to his success in maintaining a critical distance
to the volatile subject in Hard Ground. He said:

I am happy that I have not failed in this historical embellishment; it is

possible that you might find that there are people who would not agree
with one. It is difficult to write a historical play that would pass 100
percent. That is why I adopt the technique of using … the entire culture
of a people to enrich the play. This way, it will make the audience to
think, instead of being caught in the conflict of historical facts (2007:
9).

However, it was after the play has won the LNG prize for literature in
2006 that it was performed in 2007. It was really in its performance
that the play came to a wider public domain and was able to
contribute more meaningfully to the society as its relevance was
instantly felt. The play had an eight-day tour round the country, even
within the dangerous “soft” ground of the swampy, oil-rich Niger
Delta.
 TREADING SUBTLY ON VOLATILE GROUND 321

NOTES

1 Among the youth movements are the Bakassi Boys and the
Movement for the Actualization of the Sovereign State of Biafra
(MASSOB) in the Igbo South East; the Odua People’ Congress
(OPC) in the Yoruba South West, the Arewa People’s Congress in
the Hausa/ Fulani North; the Movement for the Survival of Ogoni
People (MOSOP), the Niger Delta People’s Volunteer Force and
the Movement for the Emancipation of the Niger Delta (MEND) in
the Niger Delta, South-South Nigeria.
2 For a detailed discussion on the phenomenon of urban violence,
ethnic militias and the imperative of democratic consolidation, see
Babawale, Tunde (ed.) Urban Violence, Ethnic Militias and the
Challenge of Democratic Consolidation in Nigeria. Lagos:
Malthouse Press, 2003.
3 Yerima has a penchant for religious (Catholic priests, bishops, etc.)
as characters in his plays. It may be some kind of subconscious link
or disposition informed by experience or observation. Many of his
plays have the religious as characters, for example, Father Paul and
Father Emeka in Idemili (2006) Bishop in The Mirror Cracks
(2004), Bishop in the Bishop and the Soul, Father Kingsley in Hard
Ground, to mention but a few.

REFERENCES
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Rinehart and Winston.
Adesi, A. 2007. Crisis of Characterization and Setting in Ahmed Yerima’s
Hard Ground. In Atakpo, U. and Inegbe, S. (eds.). Making Images, Re-
Making Life: Art and Life in Ahmed Yerima. Lagos: Modern Business
Press.
Akinyele, R. T. (Ed.). 2003. Race Ethnicity and Nation Building in Africa:
Studies in Inter-Group Relations. Lagos: Rex Charles Publications.
Akinyemi A. B. 2003. Ethnic Militias and the National Question in Nigeria.
In Babawale (Ed.). Urban Violence, Ethnic Militia and the Challenge of
Democratic in Nigeria, 16-24. Lagos: Malthouse.
Atakpo, U. and Inegbe, S. (Eds.). 2007. Making Images, Re-Making Life:
Art and Life in Ahmed Yerima. Lagos: Modern Business Press.
Anyaoku, E. 2008. Nigeria: Force Can’t Solve Niger Delta Crisis. This Day.
In All Africa.com 28 August, 28 August, 2008 and reported by Victor
Efeizomor Asaba.
322 OSITA EZENWANEBE

http://www.allafrica.com/stories/20080828061.html (Accessed 20
November 2008).
Babawale, T. (Ed.). 2003. Urban Violence, Ethnic Militias and the
Challenge of Democratic Consolidation in Nigeria. Lagos: Malthouse
Press.
Bradbury, M. 1971. The Social Context of Modern English Literature.
Oxford: Blackwell.
Breitinger, E. 2001. Bola Butake’s Strategies as a Political Playwright. In
Banham, M. et al. (Eds.). African Theatre: Playwrights and Politics.
Oxford: James Curry.
Fugard, A. 1973. Sizwe Bansi is Dead. In Kani, J. and Ntshona, W.
Statements: Three Plays. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Gassner, J. 1968. Dramatic Soundings: Evaluations and Recollections
Culled from 30 years of Dramatic Criticism. (Ed.) Glenn Loney. New
York: Crown Publishers.
Hare, D. 1981. Commanding the Style of Presentation. In Trussler, S. and
Itzin, C. (eds.). The New Theatre Voices of the ’70s, 111 – 120. London:
Methuen.
Irere, A. 1988. Literary Criticism in the Nigerian Context. In Ogunbniyi, Y.
(Ed.). Perspective on Nigerian Literature: 1700 to the Present, Vol. 1,
93–105. Lagos: Guardian Books.
Lawrenson, D. and Swingwood, A. 1971. The Sociology of Literature.
London: McGibbon and Kee.
Maponya, M. 1986. Gangsters. In Woza Albert! An Anthology of South
African Plays, 59-87. New York: George Braziller.
Mustafa, K. M. 2001. From a Playwright’s Notebook. In Banham, M. And
Osofisan, F. (Eds.), African Theatre: Playwrights and Politics. Oxford:
James Curry.
Nwabueze, N. 2003. Towards a Wider Understanding of Inter-Group
Relations. In Akinyele, R. T. (ed.). Race, Ethnicity and Nation Building
in Africa: Studies in Inter-Group Relations. Lagos: Rex Charles
Publications.
Okonta, I. 2008. The Lingering Crisis in the Niger Delta and Suggestions
for a peaceful resolution. London: CDD, March, 2008.
http:/www.cdd.org.vk/resources/workingpaper/niger_delta_eng.htm,
(Accessed 20 November 2008).
Onwueme, T.O. 2002. Then She Said It. San Francisco and Lagos: African
Heritage Press.
 TREADING SUBTLY ON VOLATILE GROUND 323

Osuoka, I. 2003. Politics and Agenda of Nationality Resistance: The Case of

the Ijo of the Niger Delta. In Babawale (Ed.). Urban Violence, Ethnic
Militias and the Challenge of Democratic Consolidation in Nigeria,
113–120. Lagos: Malthouse Press.
Page, A. 1992. The Death of the Playwright? Modern British Drama and
Literary Theory. London: Macmillan.
Richards, I. A. 1925. Principles of Literary Criticism. New York: Harcourt
Brace.
Schklovsky, V. 1965. Art as Technique. In Lemon, L. T. and Reis, M. J.
(Ed.). Russian Formalist Criticism: Four Essays, 3–24. Lincoln:
University of Nebraska.
Yerima, A. 2006. Hard Ground. Ibadan: Kraft Books Ltd.
________. 2007. The Wives. Ibadan: Kraft Books Limited.
________. 2007. How I Write: Things Soyinka Taught Me. Interview with
Nnenyelike. In Atakpo, W. and Inegbe, S. (eds.). Making Images,
Rethinking Life: Art and Life in Ahmed Yerima, 3–9. Lagos: Modern
Business Press.
CHAPTER 13

DRAMA AS AN ANALYTICAL TOOL OF

CONTEMPORARY SOCIETY: AHMED YERIMA’S
HARD GROUND AND THE POLITICS OF THE NIGER
DELTA
ADEBISI ADEMAKINWA

INTRODUCTION
Characters, tragic or comic, captured within historical events or
happenings have been the subject of drama from the ancient Greek
period. Going down history lane, one may observe the existence of
legendary figures, mythical figures and fictional figures in the works
of Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides and Aristophanes. In the
Elizabethan era Shakespeare used historical figures and events in
many of his great plays. What all this amounts to ultimately is that
right from the time of the Greek period – when theatre became a
serious matter of state – drama and history established a symbiotic
relationship that has been maintained in one form or the other down
to this present century.
While some African drama has utilized either some historical
figure like Chaka and Kurunmi, or some historical event such as the
Kiriji war that took place in the latter part of the 19th century in
Yorubaland, other plays have utilized quasi-historical figures or
events, or a semblance of them, as we have in Oduduwa and the
Yoruba versions of events leading to world creation. What is clear,
however, is that the use of historical figures or events is not the sine
qua non guarantee for the effectiveness of the dramaturgy, or the
success of plays or performance.
One could ask, however, why theatre at the initial stage needed to
utilize important figures as its subjects. One could also ask whether
this choice was the result of the popularity of these characters with
the people, or whether it was meant to score some religious point.
And more importantly, how does a writer maintain a balance between
326 ADEBISI ADEMAKINWA

actual events or actions and their actualisation on stage? The related

question is: how should a dramatist utilize his medium to analyze
contemporary issues?
This last question is essential in this paper, because there are
many ways in which a playwright can depict real events and real
people, and they might in turn have repercussions on the
effectiveness of his dramaturgy. In the 21st century it has become
very important for dramatists, and especially African dramatists, to
veer a little into ‘relevant theatre’ because of the multifarious
problems plaguing the continent.
Moreover, writers in the 21st century addressing contemporary
issues have to contend with a number of historical figures and
important historical events of the period. Replicating these in their
work demands new techniques that will represent such figures while
at the same time upholding the truth inherent in the events for the
representation to be effective and relevant to the audience. The
effectiveness lies in challenging the audience into making appropriate
decisions based on the events so presented.
What all this indicates is that important figures from history (or
what was believed to be history) have been used from the early
beginnings of theatre and drama. And throughout their development,
these important figures are sourced from history, legend or myth. In
some instances, these important figures are fictional characters and in
modern drama they could be drawn from all strata of society. The
dramatists, in spite of the use of these historical materials, were very
creative. They hardly followed the sequence as strictly presented by
history or myth.
The ancient Greek dramatists seem to have established what the
relationship should be between historical materials and dramaturgy.
Oscar Brockett (1999:18) confirms that the ancient dramatists
utilized the historical materials in an eclectic way:

All extant Greek tragedies are based on myth or history. Each writer
was free, however, to alter the stories and to invent motivations (which
are seldom provided in myth) for characters and actions. Thus, though
dramatists might have begun with the same basic story, they ended with
widely different interpretations of it.

Also, Shakespeare has demonstrated through his plays that a strict or

faithful adherence to historical event does not necessarily contribute
to the effectiveness of the drama. In fact, a faithful acceptance and
use of events as presented by history or myth could hamper the
 DRAMA AS AN ANALYTICAL TOOL OF CONTEMPORARY SOCIETY 327

dramatic quality of the work. Shakespeare, Corneille, Hauptmann

and so on used historical figures and events in the same way that a
master potter uses his clay: as a mere tool in the overall fabrication of
his main object – the pot.
It is for this reason that the analysis of Yerima’s dramaturgy in
Hard Ground becomes so important, especially examining in the way
in which he dissected the convoluted Niger Delta problems, using an
old tool in a new way.

HARD GROUND AND ITS PRESENTATION OF HISTORICAL

FIGURES AND EVENTS
Ahmed Yerima’s play, Hard Ground, presents the human face and
the human emotion of the crises endemic in the Niger Delta region of
Nigeria. It also takes us into this arena where militant youths are in
operation coping with violence, betrayals, intrigues and so on. The
main hero is a young man of 18, Nimi. His mother and father are
named Mama and Baba. At the beginning of the play the family
gathers around Nimi who has just arrived from the creeks,
interrogating him on what happened at the camp. It becomes obvious
that Nimi is a member of one of the numerous guerrilla movements
that have moved into the Niger Delta creeks in recent times. The
audience or reader is also made to understand that Nimi has been sent
to the turbulent Niger Delta region to pursue his education and by so
doing learn the culture and tradition of his tribe, the Ijaws. But rather
than face his education, Nimi joins the numerous youths who form
militant groups in the Niger Delta region of Nigeria to press home
their demands from the federal government on environmental
degradation, exploitation and injustice that have made the region a
hotbed of crises. They kidnap oil workers, vandalize pipelines and
terrorize innocent citizens to press home their demands. These
militant youths are subdivided into brigades and Nimi is a
commander of a brigade.
The whole troop was under an overall commander called the
Don. This Don is an invisible character, but has an all-pervasive
power and influence. We are told at the beginning of the play that
Nimi has a death sentence hanging over his head because, as a result
of his actions, the brigade of militant youths under his command was
betrayed into the hands of the federal forces. In fact, a ransom has
been paid to the Don for his release. Nimi declares his innocence of
the crime, but obviously an unknown ‘vulture’ betrayed the brigade.
328 ADEBISI ADEMAKINWA

Mama’s hatred for the invisible Don is two-fold: he was

responsible for the death of her brother who was designated as a
traitor; and he is now seen as responsible for the travails of Nimi,
especially for recruiting a young boy such as Nimi (her only child) to
fight a war when he should be in school.
She also has an axe to grind with Baba, Nimi’s father. Firstly, he
is seen as too soft and indolent. To her, only older people like Baba
should be fighting in the creeks instead of young people like Nimi.
Secondly, Baba has no time for her because, in her view, he spends
his time loafing around with another woman.
At one point in the play some people come to visit Nimi,
declaring him their hero, showering him with praise and gifts for his
daring exploits in the creeks. In the course of revelry Nimi is
poisoned and it was only the timely intervention of Father Kingsley
and Inyigifaa (younger brother of Mama) that saved him. While Nimi
is recuperating from the effect of the poison, he has a nightmare in
which he encounters the dreadful Tingologo spirit. This spirit claims
it has not come to visit in vain. It has rather come to reap a harvest of
human souls in the family.
The hatred for the Don becomes exacerbated when he orders the
execution of Pikibo, Nimi’s girlfriend, who is pregnant with his child
as she turns out to be the elusive ‘vulture’ betraying the militants’
causes to the federal forces. Thus, when the Don promised to visit
Mama and Nimi, the murder of the Don became plausible due to
these orchestrated events. The death of Pikibo and the unborn child
marks the first fulfilment of Tingologo’s mission in the family.
The Don comes as promised and Nimi, in collusion with Mama,
slaughtered him with a knife. However, when they took a closer look
at the corpse of the masked Don, the dreaded Don turned out to be no
other than Baba, Nimi’s father and Mama’s husband. Thus, the death
of the Don marks the final fulfilment of Tingologo’s assignment in
the family.
The play presents an array of historical figures and events.
However, reflecting one of the 21st-century African dramaturgical
styles, these historical figures and events are distorted from reality.
Primarily, a trope around which the figures and events are woven
and that is effectively incorporated into the drama is the ‘ground’ that
is described as ‘hard’ in the play. This ground symbolizes a state of
the social milieu as well as the condition of the people living in the
perilous Niger Delta environment. It signifies the difficult living
conditions of the people of the Niger Delta. Yerima was playing on
 DRAMA AS AN ANALYTICAL TOOL OF CONTEMPORARY SOCIETY 329

the opposite of their reality through the use of the words ‘soft’ and
‘hard’ because, as he stated in an interview in 2009:

When I first went to Bayelsa, we went on a speed boat… as the speed

boat was moving very fast on the water, it became very hardened, when
the speedboat bounces on the water, it sound very hard. Because it was
moving very fast, the water became hard. In fact like concrete.

The ground here is swampy. And as Nimi in says Hard Ground:

Nimi: The muddy land of periwinkles and mud-skippers that glide

every day searching for food such as our flesh when we are buried. So
we dig deep, when we bury, and we walk tall when we are alive. In our
foolishness, we like to think it is hard ground. To us, at least God made
it that way, marshy but firm, and we stand on it (13).

Yerima supports this when he says:

It was a play on the word hard ground, because it was the exact
opposite: all the land is marshy. So, what Nimi is trying to say is that,
well, this is what we have; so, to us it is hard life, it is hard ground.

Apart from the ‘ground’ that is highly symbolic, there is also the
undercurrent idea that this ground has been the cause of conflicts
among historical figures that have interacted and are interacting with
other historical figures, past or present in the Niger Delta region of
the country Nigeria.
Secondly, there is also the notion that apart from the ground, the
characters in the play are depicted by Yerima as mere copies of
current and past leaders in the Niger Delta and these characters have,
in one way or other, interacted with the ground and the ground has
subdued them.
Yerima has confessed that he had important figures – past and
present leaders of Niger-Delta – in mind when creating his
characters. The whole issue of militant youths as a historical
phenomenon was engendered by the political chaos in the country.
As Nimi narrates, militant youths are the handiwork of politicians:

Nimi: They created us. They gave us the reason to find our place…First
we were errand boys, and so we got guns and money. We started to ask
questions, they had no answers. We all knew what they looked like
before they got into power. We dumped them. They gave us no respect,
because of the crumbs they give us while they keep the chunk. Now we
330 ADEBISI ADEMAKINWA

listen to the people. We fight only for ourselves. Our lives in our
pockets (37).

Yerima intends to identify the characters with known figures in

the Niger Delta; thus he maintains “most of the speeches in the play
are directly lifted from speeches by Asari Dokubo, Saro Wiwa and
even Governor Odili”. Peter Odili was the Governor of Rivers State
between 29 May 1999 and 29 May 2007. He was known to be a
major sponsor of militant groups in his state and this view was
confirmed by the Rivers State Truth and Reconciliation Commission,
headed by retired Justice Kayode Eso, who blamed the security crises
under Odili’s regime on Odili’s own administration and that of the
Federal Government most especially for hobnobbing with the
warlords, Ateke Tom and Asari Dokubo, in spite of wanton
destruction of life and property in the region.
Very prominent in the whole character spectrum is Nimi; to
Yerima she represents Asari Dokubo. It becomes easy to draw a
parallel between Asari and Nimi when one looks at Asari’s
biography and the character presented as Nimi. Mujahid Asari
Dokubo was born in 1964; he received his primary and secondary
education in Port Harcourt. He went to the University of Calabar to
study law, but abandoned the programme after three years in 1990.
He also went to the Rivers State University of Science and
Technology, and there too he had to abandon the programme because
of his activism. His real name is Melford Dokubo Goodhead Jr, but
he changed his name to Mujahid Asari-Dokubo after converting to
Islam, the same way Nimi changed his name to “Scorpion” after he
became a militant leader in the play.
Between 1998 and 2001 he became the First Vice-President of
Ijaw Youth Council from 2001 and in 2003 became the President of
this group. In 2004 he formed the Niger Delta People’s Volunteer
Force (NDPVF), which was one of the most prominent armed
militant groups operating in the Niger Delta region. His anti-
government stance has made him popular among the local
population. His NDPVF, largely funded by politicians and other
wealthy individuals, became the major catalyst for the unrest in the
region.
This group engaged another rival group, the Niger Delta
Vigilante (NDV) in armed conflict as both engaged in oil bunkering
and other illegal activities. His uncompromising stance towards the
Obasanjo administration, even when he was called to engage with
Obasanjo, led to his arrest and he was charged with treason by the
 DRAMA AS AN ANALYTICAL TOOL OF CONTEMPORARY SOCIETY 331

Nigerian Federal Government. He was only released in 2007 as part

of President Yaradua’s deal to bring peace to the Niger Delta region.
A comparison of the figures of Asari and Nimi leaves room for
speculation. Asari, like Nimi, is a drop out from school and, most
importantly, the figure’s fake nature has been replicated in the
character. However, there is an age disparity: when he took up his
militancy Asari was in his forties, while Nimi is depicted as an 18
year old, almost a child soldier such as those used in civil wars in
many African countries. Father Kingsley is the representative of
other militant youths:

who had followed the thing, they’ve now lost the focus, they don’t even
know what they are following… so, the major problem for me is the
likes of Father Kingsley who make 80 percent of those the government
is fighting right now (Yerima interview, 2009).

It is not without reason that the dramatist uses this character to

represent other youths. The Father is deliberately presented as fake in
order to reflect the fake nature of the youths fighting the Niger Delta
cause. Thus, when Nimi asks the Father whether he is really a
reverend father, the audience gets to know that Kingsley is actually
acting a reverend father. This act metaphorically drives home the
dilemma of the youths fighting the cause as well as underlines the
shallow nature of the whole enterprise. Nimi’s agonised cry betrays
the dilemma of the youths in relation to the cause they are fighting
for:

Where is God? Why is nobody listening? Why? And worse still, you
whom we thought was our vehicle of salvation, the symbol of our belief
in God …is supremely … fake. Why? [Pause] Nothing is real any more.
Nothing. Father … I don’t even know what to call you now. I have
changed my mind. I am going back to the jungle, where we write the
laws and live them, each day as we feel (53).

Baba is the archetype of the mysterious militant leaders. They

present the main obstacle to peace in the Niger Delta region simply
because, as Yerima (2009) observes: “With Baba, I tried to show
why they may not be able to cure the problem in the region. This is
because the real leaders are not living within the people”. The
dramatists used Baba to represent Ken Saro Wiwa. Ken Saro Wiwa
(1941–1995) belonged to Ogoni tribe in the Niger Delta region of
332 ADEBISI ADEMAKINWA

Nigeria. He was a successful businessman and television producer,

and a Nigerian author who won the Goldman Environmental Prize.
His satirical television series is believed to be the most watched
soap opera in Africa. He became an activist because his homeland
has been subjected to extreme environmental depredation since 1950
through oil exploration by oil companies. He became the president of
the Movement for the Survival of the Ogoni People (MOSOP) and he
led a non-violent campaign against environmental problems in the
region. He was outspoken against the Nigerian government that
could not rein in the oil companies and compel them to obey simple
environmental regulations.
In 1995 he was arrested, hastily tried by a special military
tribunal and hanged by the regime of General Sani Abacha. His death
led to the suspension of Nigeria from the Commonwealth of Nations
for more than three years.
At the time nobody knew the role Ken had played in the conflicts
in the region, just the same way Baba’s family does not know his
identity as the dreaded Don. The identity of the real force behind the
problem is difficult to unravel, because according to Yerima:

Ken Saro Wiwa, when he was alive, he was not staying in Port-
Harcourt. He was staying here in Lagos. Saro Wiwa was giving
judgment; he was calling people vultures, they were killing them. But
he was here writing, we were laughing every Saturday or Friday that
they show his programme, not knowing he was the one motivating and
creating the problem (Interview, 2009).

Setting this historical character side by side with the dramatic

figure, apart from the fact that both are able to conceal from the
people their identity as the commanders of the militants, one detects
a lot of disparity. Saro Wiwa was a television producer and a writer.
Yerima failed to indicate to the audience the profession of Baba.
This probably accounts for the shallow nature of the character.
As for Inyigifaa, he represents both the known and unknown
historical and current figures in the Niger Delta whose sole objective
is to survive, no matter the cost. He is ready to dance with the fowl
and hunt with the fox. He symbolizes the class of faceless
businessmen who supply arms and ammunition to the militant youths
in the Niger Delta. Mama’s description of him is precise: “That one
is a traitor. He will sell his own blood if the price is good. He
measures everything in terms of money” (31). This description fits
Henry Okah, another militant leader who specialised in the supply of
 DRAMA AS AN ANALYTICAL TOOL OF CONTEMPORARY SOCIETY 333

arms and ammunition to Asari and other militant groups. He was

making his fortune from the crises in the region. Eventually, Asari
and Okah fell out with one another after he paid Okah huge amounts
of money to supply him with arms and ammunition and Okah
betrayed him by failing to do so. According to Vanguard (online
newspaper), Okah was picked up in September 2007 and detained in
the Angolan capital, Luanda, on arms-smuggling charges. On 14
February 2008 he was extradited to Nigeria.
Having given a sketch of the important figures in the play, one
notices that they form a stratum concealing the true identity of
historical figures, living or dead, in the Niger Delta. This style has
four basic advantages. Firstly, the dramatist is able to manipulate the
fate of the figures to suit his main dramatic objectives. Secondly, he
is able to manipulate the historical events attached to these figures
without committing a historical error. Thirdly, he is able to use
speeches of living and dead historical figures in the Niger Delta to
underline their relevance in the play, but without affecting the
dramatic aesthetics. This is why it is difficult to accept Ogezi Attah’s
(2008) opinion that Hard Ground is flawed by what he termed
“feeble dramatic dialogue”. The dialogue is ‘feeble’ as a result of
Yerima’s dramaturgy – the historical figures so depicted are defined
by the speeches they presented in real life. Fourthly, although they
have other names, perceptive people are still able to recognize them,
and the playwright escapes litigation.
Yerima also treats historical events with caution. For instance,
Nimi, the main character is poisoned by his ‘admirers’. In Yerima’s
perspective, Asari Dokubo is not educated enough to formulate
anything philosophically deep to back up his activism. In a parallel
vein Nimi is showered with praise by his ‘admirers’ the same way
Asari was praised to the sky before he was caught by Obasanjo’s
government. According to Yerima: “They said Baba sent a special jet
to carry him and he fell for it. I knew such a person was not the kind
of leader these people want”. Thus, the encomium which precedes
the act of poisoning Nimi is presented as a parallel to the encomium
which preceded the arrest of Asari Dokubo by Obasanjo’s
government. The poisoning symbolizes the arrest.
A similar theory is propounded by Ejinkeonye (2002: 8) to
account for the execution of Saro Wiwa. Apart from identifying
Saro Wiwa as a scapegoat, he proposed that what actually killed Saro
Wiwa is the fact that he fell victim to national and international
334 ADEBISI ADEMAKINWA

media euphoria, and thus mistakenly believed nothing could happen

to him:

Indeed the Euro-oriented and largely inspired “universal” media din

gave him little or no time to pause and ponder why it was at that
particular time in Nigeria’s history that everyone seemed to have
become an Ogoni-maniac.

In Nimi’s situation, to portray his shallow, power-hungry, praise-

hungry mindset (which had betrayed Asari to the Federal
Government of Nigeria), he is brought face-to face with the people he
is fighting for and his speech clarifies his shallow mindedness:

Tonye: This is your time, do not call anyone. No one will call you a
little man any more.
Nimi: Little man? Me? Not after the visit of the Governor.

Nimi also declares:

Nimi: …Oh my blood boils, I long for the smell of the swamp.
Breaking up this country is our next agenda.
Alabo: Which country? This one? This is our country.
Nimi: No! No man from this swampy area is from this country. Any
man from the swamp who says he is a Nigerian is a traitor! They take
our God-given gifts and share unequally and now you want us to share
the same birthright with them. Death! To the last of us standing. Death
until we get back our freedom (37).

His power-hungry mindset is betrayed after he has been decorated

with rich costume:

Nimi: …Mama! So this is how it feels. I had forgotten the feel of good
wool… the feel of wool and the taste of good brandy is one of eternal
bliss. Pour me some more, please…(35).

One of the important historical events alluded to is the

circumstances leading to the death of the people referred to as
‘vultures’ and especially the kind of execution meted out to these
‘vultures’. In Hard Ground the scene with Tingolongo, the fearsome
spirit, is an enactment of the militant youths carrying out the order of
their Don.
 DRAMA AS AN ANALYTICAL TOOL OF CONTEMPORARY SOCIETY 335

Tingolongo: Who ordered you to defile the gods?

Nimi: The Don.
Tingolongo: The Don…is he god?
Nimi: To us. Yes. He said the men were vultures.
Tingolongo: Vultures… and you killed them in my shrine?
Nimi: We did not want to kill them in the shrine. We drove them until
they ran in, after two days they got hungry, and one sneaked out to look
for food. The boys caught him, and hacked him to death, removing his
head from behind as he sped. In the wildness, my boys ran into the
shrine, pulled out the second man.
Tingolongo: The way you killed him offended the gods.
Nimi: A stick was pushed through his anus until it came out in his
bowels. We then dragged them back into the shrine, and burnt them…
(45-46).

Historically, as Yerima explained, the enraged militants actually

killed the people referred to as ‘vultures’ and the event surrounding
the killing of the vultures is very important in the history of the Niger
Delta as they were, in the words of Yerima:

The evidences that killed Saro Wiwa. They were used to hang him. He
gave the order that these vultures should be killed. They drove them;
the vultures ran into a shrine. They were supposed to get a reprieve, but
the people went after them, caught them, killed one right there in the
shrine and took the other one, brought him out, took out a stick, almost
like how Ovoramwen killed his people. Put the stick in and it came out
from the mouth and hung him there (Interview, 2009).

This historical event, crude and terrible as it seems, is not actually

dramatized on stage; although the narration of it is more refined, the
dramatic impact is not lost as it creates a fascinating and at the same
time fearful scenario that has no less impact than the real historical
event.

THE RELEVANCE OF HARD GROUND

Post-colonial theatre in Nigeria has boomed in the realm of what
could be called ‘Relevant Theatre’. This is not necessarily a
propagandist theatre, but a theatre that examines a social or political
event engendered by the actuality of contemporary society. This
seems to be the trend in some other African countries as well, as the
analysis by Susan Haedicke (2009: 237-238) of the play Une Si
Grande Esperance, Ou le Chant Retrouve au Pays Perdi by the
336 ADEBISI ADEMAKINWA

Algerian playwright Noureddine Aba shows. As Haedicke

summarises the matter, Aba embodies “the contrasting histories in
his characters, struggles to construct an historical narrative, not just a
fictional account that explains the descent into the violence of the
1990s.”
Like Algeria, post-independence Nigeria has been inundated with
so many social, economic and political crisis and so many methods
have to be employed by government theatre practitioners and NGOs
to sensitize the masses to these crisis. For instance, theatre has been
put to use as a means of sensitizing Nigerians to a number of issues
such as child abuse, human rights violations, human trafficking,
VVF, poverty eradication, HIV/AIDS and so on by the government
and non-governmental organizations in the country. Wole Soyinka
also launched his satirical attack on the military junta of Sani Abacha
with his plays Beatification of Area Boys and King Baabu, most
especially in the latter play, where the playwright barely covers the
real identity of the political figures with names couched in
buffoonery.
Nigerian government has, however, been especially reluctant to
inform the people on the true situation in the Niger Delta and the
impact of NGOs has been minimal. This is connected with the
political and economic involvement of members of the Nigerian
ruling elite in the problems of the region. Therefore most of the time
a one-sided picture is presented to Nigerians through the
government-controlled media.
It is therefore not an accident that Hard Ground won the
prestigious NLG award in 2006. The play’s vanguard position in
creating awareness of the dehumanization occurring in the region
emphasizes the relevance of theatre in the analysis of the problems
affecting the region. Apart from presenting in a vivid manner the
festering socio-economic disequilibrium responsible for creating
militancy, Yerima, through his characters, shows the varied motives
of the players in the Niger Delta in a way that one recognises, which
make it clear that the solution to the problems will be a daunting task.
Yerima has shown as part of the arsenal of the theatre its
immediacy in depicting the fatal duel between the various historical
figures fighting on, and for, the ground and its contents – and this has
been going on for decades. While the ground shows its hard nature to
the majority of the natives, it is soft to multinational companies
operating in the region as well as to some individuals who, from far
 DRAMA AS AN ANALYTICAL TOOL OF CONTEMPORARY SOCIETY 337

away Abuja and Lagos, are exploiting its resources. The hardness is
encapsulated in the words of Attah (2008):

The Niger Delta is a sorry sight of environmental pollution as a result of

oil exploitation. Farming and fishing activities have been crippled by oil
spillage, drinking water polluted and a dearth of infrastructure.
Unemployment, poverty, illiteracy and hardship are the lot of the people
of the Niger Delta despite the fact that their oil is the mainstay of
Nigeria’s economy.

The relevance of the play is the Yerima’s concern with impotent

socio-economic theorizing and political posturing that have not been
practically utilized in remedying the appalling situation in the region.
The play’s relevance lies in the questions it asks all “parties
concerned… in the hope that they would lead to much sought-after
answers”.

CONCLUSION
Historical material, comprising historical figures and events (fictional
or factual), is the important basis of many plays. The historical figure
has been the subject of drama from the advent of theatre down to the
present century. Historical events (factual or fictional) have been
utilized to depict historical figures in many ways: adapting them
physically and psychologically to suit the needs of the playwright.
The use of factual or fictional historical figures and historical
events requires a great deal of imagination, creativity and dramatic
eclecticism and flexibility. Ahmed Yerima has had to juxtapose the
characters and actions in his play with real historical figures and
events, firstly as a means to universalize the characters and, secondly
in order to prevent a narrowly-focused assessment of the characters.
In this way the audience is made to examine the memories in
identifying the characters so presented to them with those they know
or have heard about. Moreover, Yerima, being a civil servant himself,
could not afford to come out openly to depict, in his plays, real-life
figures that are or were in government.
Apart from depicting historical figures, the historical events are
used by Yerima to also satisfy some theatrical objectives. Sometimes
the events are meant to draw some parallel or make a cogent point.
This is obviously the case with the execution of Pikibo and Nimi’s
reaction to it. As Yerima (2009) explains: “I wanted to hurt him. I
wanted to show that the same guy who gives the order for execution,
when it concerns him, his own blood, he feels the hurt”. The
338 ADEBISI ADEMAKINWA

reactions of Nimi apparently show his fake nature and his double
standards as he denies that his girlfriend cannot be the much-sought
‘vulture’:

Nimi: Noo! Not Pikibo! No! Not my son! He did not offend a soul! Not
my woman. The Don should have spared their lives for my sake. I must
find the Don and kill him too! (50).

The play’s relevance is underlined in the bold theatrical style it

utilizes in addressing the reality of Nigeria’s contemporary world.
The quagmire of the socio-political situation in Nigeria justifies the
use of this style of adapting reality to fiction. This theatrical style is
akin to documentary theatre and gives a highly sophisticated analysis
of a contemporary situation. But unlike a documentary play, it does
not give a chronological depiction of events on stage.
The effectiveness of Yerima’s style is not dependent on the way
he conveys or compresses the truth, or in the way historical figures
are deliberately distorted in the characters in the play. The
effectiveness of this style lies in the stimulation of the analytical
faculties of the audience in their assessment of the Niger Delta
problems presented in the play. The play sensitizes not only
Nigerians, but peoples all over the world, to the Niger Delta
situation. This style seems to be highly effective in addressing the
diverse emotional interests stimulated by the assorted socio-political
and economic problems facing the country in this era of
globalization.

REFERENCES
Attah, Ogezi. 2008. “The Pale Light of Reality in Yerima’s Hard
Ground” http://isaacogezi.blogspot.com.
Brockett, O.G. 1999. History of the Theatre. Boston: Allyn and
Bacon.
Ejinkeonye, Ugochukwu. 2002. Ken Saro-Wiwa and the Ogoni
Tragedy. The Comet, Sunday, December 8.
Haedicke C. Susan. 2009. Documenting the Invisible: Dramatizing
the Algerian Civil War of the 1990s. In Political Performances
Theory and Practice. (Ed.) Susan C. Haedicke et al. Amsterdam,
New York: Rodopi.
 DRAMA AS AN ANALYTICAL TOOL OF CONTEMPORARY SOCIETY 339

Yerima, Ahmed. 2006. Hard Ground. Ibadan: Kraftgriots, 2006.

________. Interview, 2009. “Crack in militants’ camp widens”
http://www.vanguardngr.com/index.php?opt2009.
CHAPTER 14

THEATRE-ON-DEMAND: STELLA OYEDEPO –

THEATRICAL MEGASTAR OF THE TWENTY-FIRST
CENTURY
NGOZI UDENGWU

INTRODUCTION
The term ‘theatre-on-demand’ is used in this chapter to describe a
mode of theatre that is tailor-made to serve the aesthetic needs of a
specific audience. The term is used to differentiate this style from the
ready-made style of conventional theatre, which is often based on a
text and staged in a theatre or any performance venue determined by
the availability of a paying audience. Popularised by Stella Oyedepo,
the most prolific playwright/director in Nigeria, this form of theatre
is essentially commissioned and is not based on pre-existing play
texts. This is not to suggest that Oyedepo has developed a new
theatre form. Performances are commissioned all the time and some
of them are based on improvisation. However, it is the consideration
that Oyedepo has made a career of packaging and delivering
performances on demand, at the shortest notice, and has made a great
success of it that motivates this study. Her prolific output and success
contradict the claims made by some theatre scholars that live theatre
is in decline because of the challenges posed by the medium of film
or because of social insecurity.
This chapter examines the essential machinery of this
performance approach and assesses its efficacy as a production
technique which has the power to restore live theatre to its former
glory. To appreciate Oyedepo’s contributions to reviving and
sustaining live theatre, it is important to understand the condition of
the theatre in Nigeria at the moment.
342 NGOZI UDENGWU

THE CONDITION OF LIVE THEATRE IN NIGERIA

It does not matter how one looks at it, live theatre is in decline in
Nigeria and it seems it will take a long time to recover. When this
idea came up in a discussion during the Society of Nigerian Theatre
Artists conference in the University of Jos, Nigeria in June 2009, one
respondent, a professor of the performing arts, was opposed to the
word “decline”, preferring the word “sleep” to describe the state of
live theatre in Nigeria at the moment. For him “sleep” is a more
optimistic word, considering some revival efforts that are being made
in certain quarters. Be that as it may, many theatre scholars and
writers have considered live theatre as being virtually dead. In a
keynote address which he presented at the annual conference of the
Society of Nigerian Theatre Artists (SONTA) at the University of
Nigeria, Nsukka in July 2006, Femi Osofisan,1 one of the leading
African playwrights, academic, theatre practitioner and once General
Manager/Chief Executive of the National Theatre of Nigeria,
lamented the dwindling condition of live performance in Nigeria and
the fact that there does not seem to be any hope that it would ever
recover its past glory, largely because the young people who should
take over from their retiring mentors have turned away from the
theatre and are contented with other Western entertainment
traditions. He declares,

Surprisingly, that anticipated harvest has turned into a hollow illusion.

Now, when the soldiers have been driven from power and the concept
of democratic governance and of freedom of speech is solidly reinstated
in the constitution, it is precisely at this very moment that the creative
energy on the stage seems to have drained out. There is virtually no
voice on the stage now celebrating the present triumph; none re-
evaluating the hideous past; none evoking the expected future: all is just
silence and emptiness. Productions are sparse, the audiences thin; the
scripts are in terms of quality, neither-nor. Nobody, it seems, looks up
anymore to the playwright for illumination or insight (2008: xvi).

He blames the situation on “the parlous economic situation” (xvi);

“social insecurity” (xvii); “the death, in strangely rapid sequence, of
the giants, entrepreneurial trail blazers of the stage” (xviii) and most
importantly the home video industry and the Pentecostal Church
movement. In spite of all these obstacles strewn across the path of
live theatre, Osofisan is optimistic that all is not lost and he goes on
to make suggestions that are in accord to the main idea of this paper.
He asserts,
 THEATRE-ON-DEMAND 343

All we require will be courage. All we will need to do in order to keep

our profession alive is to renew ourselves, and radicalise our art. We
must find a language to speak to the new generation and get them back
into the auditorium. This will mean finding new approaches to the
production of the old plays, as well as creating new scripts to fit the
temper of the times without, however, compromising or forsaking our
belief in the quality of art to enrich our community (2008: xxv).

Many other writers have also expressed concern over the

condition of live theatre and have suggested a variety of ways to
tackle them. The two volumes of Nigerian Theatre Journal (2005)
are dedicated to the discussion of the problems of live theatre in
Nigeria, with contributors suggesting ways of rescuing live theatre
from total extinction. For the purposes of this paper two articles are
of particular interest and will be referred to because they raise issues
of importance to this study. Innocent Ohiri (2005: 148) cautions
against “over-reliance on gate-taking”, while proposing alternative
means of obtaining financial rewards.

While examining the situation, Juliana Okoh declares that one of the
reasons why live theatre has dwindled is because, Nigerians have no
theatre culture; neither are they able to understand the meaning of the
art and its usefulness to the society outside of its entertainment value…
Some even look down on the profession and would do everything
possible to discourage their children from taking to theatre studies.

Ohiri and Okoh have raised issues that are part of the argument in
this paper. Ohiri has made a pertinent point worthy of note by theatre
practitioners. In the present economic situation the box-office system
will reduce rather than enhance audience turnout. But, contrary to
Okoh’s claim, low turnout of audiences does not necessarily signify
lack of a theatre culture. On the contrary, no other contributor in that
issue of the journal shares Okoh’s opinion. Besides, Osofisan’s
description of the Nigerian theatre scene as vibrant and unsurpassed
contradicts Okoh’s allegation. The alternative remuneration strategies
which Ohiri suggests are meant to remove the financial burden from
the audience members or at least make theatre affordable. By
abandoning live theatre and embracing home video and film, both
theatre makers and their audiences, it seems, are responding to new
forms of entertainment that do not expose them to security and
financial risks. The challenges of the time demand a new approach to
theatre. What that new approach should be is what this paper is trying
to determine by evaluating Stella Oyedepo’s theatre style to see why
344 NGOZI UDENGWU

it is very successful in spite of the present downturn in live

performances elsewhere in the country. The question therefore is
how theatre can be made accessible to the people in the face of
stifling competition from media entertainment, economic instability
and social insecurity, and theatre-on-demand, which takes
performances to the people and not people to performances, seems to
offer an answer. It appropriates traditional performance methods to
serve the needs of contemporary Nigerian audiences by making
theatre accessible, digestible and affordable to wide sections of the
society. Once again, it has to be stressed that this paper does not
propose a rejection of conventional mainstream theatre practice;
rather it stresses the need to evolve an alternative theatre approach
that is flexible enough and capable of adapting to the exigencies of
the time to maintain its relevance in a changing social order. It is in
the search for the form of theatre that achieves these purposes that we
turn our attention to Stella Oyedepo.

WHO IS STELLA OYEDEPO?

Stella Morounmubo Moroundia Oyedepo, popularly known as Stella
‘Dia Oyedepo, was formerly Stella Morounmubo Moroundia
Akinrodemi, the daughter of Francis Adebayo Akinrodemi, a school
teacher, and Florence Akinrodemi, a housewife/seamstress, both
from Idanre in Idanre/Ifedore Local Government Area of Ondo State,
Nigeria. She married Hezekiah Bamdele Oyedepo, of Omu-Aran
town in Irepodun Local Government Area of Kwara State. They have
four children, two girls and two boys.
She holds a BA in English from the University of Ibadan (1974)
and a PhD in Applied Linguistics from the University of Wales,
Cardiff (1987). Her teaching experience cuts across all levels of
education, from primary through secondary to tertiary institutions. It
was as a lecturer at the Kwara State College of Education (1977-
1990) that her theatre career began. It began, quite accidentally, in
1979 when she produced a script on the spur of the moment for that
year’s annual convocation ceremony drama production. It is
important to describe the incident because it encapsulates a defining
factor in her theatre career ever since then. The college had no
Theatre Arts Department and Oyedepo had no theatre background.
This, inadvertently, helped her in achieving a unique theatre style that
is not a slave to convention and hence the circumstance in which she
entered the profession helped to shape her style. So how did this
linguist become one of Nigeria’s most active theatre practitioners?
 THEATRE-ON-DEMAND 345

Stella Oyedepo lives and breathes theatre, thinks and does

theatre, loves and nurtures theatre even when others have abandoned
the sinking ship. The theatre cannot die, not while she is still
breathing, and “there is no excuse for failure,” she tells this writer in
an interview. She defined her goal from the beginning of her career
in theatre and has not departed from it even in the face of obstacles.
She is one of the most active theatre artists in Nigeria – and perhaps
in Africa – but until 1999, when a PhD study focused on her theatre
activities, there was not one critical work on her. By 2008 she had
produced well over three hundred plays and dance dramas, some of
which have won awards. Some of her plays, notably Alice, Oh Alice!
and The Greatest Gift are set books for the Junior Secondary School
Certificate Examination in Kwara State. She specialises in
commissioned and command performances and the Nigerian Tribune
(1 February 2002) described her as the most prolific playwright and
theatre director on the African continent. As incredible as it may
sound, she produced twenty-eight plays in 2002, forty-six in 2004
and fifty-two in 2005.

HISTORICAL BACKGROUND OF OYEDEPO’S THEATRE

CAREER
A lecturer in the English Department of the Kwara State College of
Education, Ilorin Oyedepo’s career in the theatre began by accident
when she had to write a play which was performed by the students of
the English department during the 1979 annual convocation
ceremony of the College. It started when the students of English
department decided to do a play. Oyedepo stopped by to watch the
rehearsal and she found out that the students were having problem
interpreting the play. She saw that the problem was because the play
was set in a cultural setting for which they had no proper body
language. The play they were trying to do was Isiburu by Elechi
Amadi, set in pre-colonial Igbo culture. Coupled with the powerful
verse in which the play is written, this play posed a big challenge for
the students, who were not used to acting and who, being mostly
Yoruba, did not know how to interpret the characters and actions of
ancient Igbo peoples. She decided to do a script that they would find
easier to handle, a story they could identify with and be comfortable
with. She arrived at the next rehearsal with a story and the first few
scenes of the play she intended to write for them. The students loved
it and Oyedepo arrived at every rehearsal with more scenes. The
production proved a huge success. After upon this success Oyedepo
346 NGOZI UDENGWU

was obliged to produce a script every year for the annual convocation
drama of the College, until 1984 when she left for Wales to do her
doctorate. That initial script, which she titled Our Wife is not a
Woman (now in print, almost thirty years after its debut performance
in the College), was completely tailor-made to fit the occasion, the
acting ability of the students, the available budget and treated one of
the current issues in international studies – the issue of women’s
rights. Produced only four years after the United Nations declaration
of the year of women, the subject matter of the play could not have
been more topical and apt. This is the form of theatre Oyedepo would
become known for.
After upon the success of Our Wife Oyedepo produced a play
annually for the convocation ceremony: A Thorn in My Flesh (1980);
The Twelfth Wife (1981); A Sacrifice to Mammon (1982); The Days
of Woe (1983, published 2006); The Rebellion of the Bumpy-Chested
(1984, published 2002). These initial plays, with the exception of
Days of Woe, dealt with themes related to women’s issues. In 1984
she produced six plays and later formed an amateur theatre troupe
called the Kwara Troupe.

THE KWARA TROUPE

The Kwara Troupe, formed in 1988, was Oyedepo’s first elaborate
theatre venture. The amateur theatre group was made up not only of
students but also of ex-students of the Kwara State College of
Education who had taken part in the annual convocation drama. The
purpose of forming the troupe was to engage in performances outside
the College and to accommodate members who were not students of
the College. She thus upgraded her College drama group to a state-
wide company. Her plan was to present the convocation plays at
outside performances. Without any form of funding, she financed the
productions from her salary. Consequently, in order to cut down
expenses, she took on many roles herself, especially the ones her
amateur members could not perform. Consequently, she wrote the
script, cast and directed the performances, composed the songs and
choreographed the dances, and designed and constructed the
costumes. After each performance the money collected (through gate
fees and donations) was shared among the cast and crew. How much
each person got depended on how much was collected. Oyedepo had
to do more to keep her troupe. For instance, she made it a point of
duty to pick up the cast for rehearsals and drop them off at the end.
 THEATRE-ON-DEMAND 347

Occasionally she had to borrow costumes from the Kwara State

Council for Arts and Culture.
Her theatre soon received unprecedented attention and the
demand began to increase from various organisations, government
establishments and parastatals. Consequently, a year after she came
back from Wales she was commissioned by the Kwara State Ministry
of Social Development to produce a play for the 1988 Family Week
Celebration. The play, which she titled The Greatest Gift, was co-
directed by Ayo Akinwale, a lecturer (now a Professor) in the
Department of Performing Arts, University of Ilorin. A lot happened
very quickly after that. 1988 marks the actual beginning of her career
as the most commissioned playwright in Nigeria. The same year she
was commissioned by the Kwara State Government to produce a play
for the Socio-Economic Fiesta ’88. She titled the play Wake Them
Up. The following year (1989) she produced Burn the Fetters
(published 2002), commissioned by the French Embassy in Nigeria
for the Bicentenary of the French Revolution. The production earned
her a French Award which took her to France. In 1990 she wrote and
produced six commissioned plays. One of them, Beyond the Dark
Tunnel (1997), was commissioned by the National Committee for
Action Against Apartheid (NACAP) and performed on the occasion
of Nelson Mandela’s proposed visit to Nigeria after his release from
prison. The play received honourable mention at the Association of
Nigerian Authors (ANA) Convention in 1991. She was invited to
organise the Kwara State Council for Arts and Culture for the 1991
Youth Festival, in Kano. She wrote a drama titled The New Broom,
which took third position at the festival. Oyedepo felt the
performance merited first position. However, the following year her
dance-drama, Survive We Will, won the first place at the 1992 Youth
Festival in Ibadan.
Oyedepo was made the Sole Administrator for the Kwara State
Council for Arts and Culture in 1992, apparently in recognition of
her commitment and her effectively relevant performances. The
reason for the appointment was to revive the ailing State Council for
Arts and Culture and the evidence of her success is seen in the
number of awards the Council troupe won under her tutelage. She
had to disband the Kwara Troupe to take up the new appointment.
348 NGOZI UDENGWU

KWARA STATE PERFORMING TROUPE

When she assumed duty as the new Council Executive, Oyedepo
made some major changes. Before her appointment the Council
troupe did occasional dances, especially to entertain guests at
Government House. To her the dances were of poor quality and
monotonous. She replaced the dances with drama and dance drama.
However, she did not jettison dance altogether, but rather made it an
integral part of her performances; hence, though the troupe perform
mostly plays, these plays are imbued with almost equal amounts of
dance and dialogue to cater for all creative interests and to suffuse the
performances with enough colour and vibrancy. In one performance
there are many dance sequences and each has its own colourful dance
costumes. The songs, however, do not appear as part of the published
plays.
The problem with the new performance programme, as she soon
discovered, was that the majority of the cast (the Council staff) could
not speak English and those who could did not speak it well enough.
But the demand for performances was high and there was the need to
cater for wider linguistic audiences. She reached out to some
members of her former troupe (the disbanded Kwara Troupe) to take
the speaking roles and act as models for the Council staff who were
not used to play acting. This presence of non-Council staff
membership of the troupe necessitated a change of name for the
troupe from the Kwara State Arts Council Performing Troupe to the
Kwara State Performing Troupe. The new name also reflects the
changes that have taken place in the troupe.
All three stages or levels of operation studied above – the
College drama group, the Kwara Troupe and the Kwara State
Performing Troupe – have the same indices, the same modus
operandi that are consistent with Oyedepo’s theatre style and
management, which evidently translates into a huge success. Some of
the yardsticks for determining how successful Oyedepo’s theatre
approach has been will include the number of organizations that have
commissioned her to perform for them, the status of such
commissioning bodies, the number of times each organization has
commissioned her, the number of performances she has produced as
well as the number of awards and recognitions which she has
received from various awarding bodies. It has to be pointed out that it
is difficult to state exactly how many plays she has written or how
many organizations have commissioned work from her. This is
because she has not been strict in keeping records. What is certain is
 THEATRE-ON-DEMAND 349

that any figure quoted in this chapter is short of the actual number.
She has a study room that she had abandoned for years, but which
she is sure will yield more information and records of her
performances, if one dares to enter there.

OYEDEPO’S PERFORMANCE SUCCESS

Oyedepo is without doubt the most commissioned playwright and
theatre director in Nigeria. She has made a career of packaging and
delivering custom-made performances on request. The list of
organizations, (both governmental and non-governmental) as well as
multinationals and foreign agencies in Nigeria who patronise her is
almost endless. The fact of Oyedepo’s prosperity in theatre seriously
undermines the assumption that live theatre is under threat from
satellite television and the movies. This view calls for a re-evaluation
of the situation to find out if the reasons live theatre going extinct is
that the practitioners are too rigid in their approach and reluctant to
explore new ways of making theatre. The number of organizations
that request or commission Oyedepo to perform for them include,
among others, the French Embassy in Nigeria; UNICEF; the British
Council.2 She also takes performances to secondary schools,
universities, conferences, annual general meetings and end-of-year
parties of organisations, coronation ceremonies, birthdays, funerals,
arts festivals, trade fairs, fundraising ceremonies and other social
events. Between 1991 and 1999 she was commissioned at least
nineteen times by the Family Support Programme of the Ministry of
Women Affairs; thirteen times by the Kwara State Government; eight
times by the Ministry of Education, etc.
Further evidence of her success is demonstrated by the number of
awards and certificates she has received. The awards range from best
costumed play, best troupe, best youth drama to best script. The fact
that these awards are given in different areas of theatre and
performance attests to her versatility as a theatre practitioner.3 Of
particular interest is the First Prize for Best Drama Award which she
won for her play titled The Saga of Rescue presented at the 2007
National Arts Festival in Makurdi. Clinching first position in a
competition involving troupes organised by theatre arts professors
proves Oyedepo’s credibility in theatre and performance. The
Nasarawa State, which took second position in that festival, was
organised and lead by a renowned theatre arts professor, a
playwright, a choreographer of international repute and a big name in
theatre and entertainment in Nigeria, Ojo Bakare Rasaki. Oyo State
350 NGOZI UDENGWU

was also led by another university professor of theatre and

performing arts, Ayo Akinwale, a regular name in the Nigerian
movie industry, who had worked with Oyedepo in co-directing at
least two of her early performances.
The question is what is she doing to attract such an
unprecedented reception? There are many reasons for the popular
demand for Oyedepo’s theatre. Its accessibility to the people in terms
of thematic and aesthetic immediacy, accessible language and
familial atmosphere as well as affordability are some of the
characteristics of her theatre practice. To evaluate how successful
theatre-on-demand is, it is important to consider not only the number
of individuals and groups that request performances, but also the
frequency of the demand from each organization. For instance, many
of these patrons engage the troupe at least once annually. It is also
important to note the number of awards and the recognition which
she has received and is still receiving from diverse granting bodies. A
close look at Oyedepo’s theatre style and management will suggest
some reasons why she is so well received.

OYEDEPO AND MODE OF PERFORMANCE

Whether by choice or sheer coincidence, Oyedepo’s style of theatre
has a lot in common with that of Yoruba popular travelling theatre,
not just in enjoying popularity but in the mode of management and
administration as well.
Analysing how Hubert Ogunde, Duro Ladipo, Kola Ogunmola
and the rest of the Yoruba travelling theatre movement were “able to
survive all the destructive processes of time,” Adedeji and Ekwuazi
(1998: 75) state that the secret lay in the fact that these theatre gurus
had adopted traditional African performance “methods of operation
both in troupe administration and management” (76). This is an
affirmation that traditional modes of performance enjoy greater
appeal among Nigerians. It does not, however, explain why these
theatre practitioners had to turn to video production towards the end
of their career. Two years before his death Ogunmola’s play, My
Brother’s Children, was performed in the Fourth Ife Festival of the
Arts (Beier, 1981). This study reveals that Oyedepo’s huge success
has been possible because she models her theatre style after
traditional theatre methods. In this respect, her theatre has something
in common with that of the popular travelling theatre movement.
Michael Echeruo (1981) captures this Nigerian performance
spirit when he informs us that the reason concerts were popular in
 THEATRE-ON-DEMAND 351

19th-century Lagos was as a result of cultural and historical factors,

hence the fight put up by the missionaries to eliminate indigenous
elements in the concert was lost because “there was, in any case, a
spontaneous willingness to participate in these theatrical activities
provided they were not too provincially English to make any
meaning to ordinary Nigerians” (361). But the missionaries and the
African elite class would not accept the introduction of indigenous
materials into the concert because, for them, that would have
amounted to encouraging heathenism and primitivism. The Protestant
mission was the first to allow local colour in the performances in an
effort to attract more converts in competition with the Catholic
Church. African dances and drumming thus permeated the concerts
and drew large audiences. It appears, then, that the success and
sustainability of a performance approach lies in its socio-cultural
relevance – hence Echeruo’s conviction that the demise of the 1880s
Lagos concerts was because they “did not develop strong and
independent roots in the Nigerian soil” (368).
The enthusiasm with which Nigerians receive the home video
films further supports the point about the impact of socially relevant
art on the people of a place. The films may not be wonderful, but the
viewers can identify with the story and it feels good to see a
performance that speaks to them and tells their story. Added to this,
of course, is the fact that the films are cheap and could be viewed in
the comfort of the home. This is a welcome development in times of
economic recession and social insecurity caused by incessant armed
robbery, kidnapping as well as spasmodic religious and ethnic
clashes. These points are meant to demonstrate that performance is
best received if the form and content meet the needs and aspirations
of the indigenous population, and as those needs and aspirations
shift, so should the content and form of the performances.
The first thing to know about Oyedepo’s performances is that
they are not based on pre-existing play texts. From the beginning of
her career in theatre she has produced a new script for her
performances and she rarely produces the same play twice, unless on
specific request. Though her performances are mostly commissioned,
which implies that the theme for the performance is determined by
the commissioning organization, it is easy to select an existing play
text that deals with the particular theme, but Oyedepo chooses rather
to produce original scripts for her clients. Each performance is
designed to address specific social, economic, cultural or educational
issues of interest to the sponsor.
352 NGOZI UDENGWU

As a tailor-made kind of theatre, the themes act as agents of

information dissemination, passing messages from the
commissioning body to the target audience, and from the rulers to the
ruled and vice versa. For instance, it is possible to tell the subject of
some her performances as well as the commissioning body from the
title. For the banks she has series of performances she entitles Be
Wise with Your Money designed mainly for Trade Bank, but she has
also worked for Union Bank and for the Bankers Clearing House,
Ilorin. She has produced about twelve plays in that series. Brain Has
No Gender is one of the titles she produced for the Ministry of
Education, and for the Nigerian Bar Association she produced De
Law. War Against Worms was produced for the Family Support
Programme of the Ministry of Women Affairs for the Deworming
Programme. Some of the titles she produced for the Family Support
Programme include The Greatest Gift (about good parenting); My
Daughter is an Egg and Alice, Oh Alice! (on child abuse, sex slaves
and AIDS).
Another important aspect of this form of performance is that
scripts are tailored to match the performance ability of the cast and
crew. Cast and crew are made up of the Arts Council staff who are
employed for their talent in performances – acting, singing,
drumming, acrobatics. When the need arises for her to engage guest
artists, she selects only those whose talent she knows very well,
especially her former troupe members. This enables her to get a
performance ready in the shortest possible time, sometimes as short
as a few days.
Performances often take place on a bare stage. But this depends
on the amount received for the show. The reason may well be that
she has no training in technical theatre, but absence of design has
become one of the characteristics of her performances and has the
advantage of reducing production cost and concentrating attention on
the performer, as well as making it easy to travel on short notice.
Elaborate staging techniques are sometimes used in high-budget
productions such as Beyond the Dark Tunnel and Days of Woe,
which employed set design, scenery, light and sound effects as well
as other effects such as rain (spraying water from backstage).
Whatever may be lost because of the absence of scene design is made
up for through the use of costumes and stage props. Oyedepo’s belief
and passion for costumes is immediately obvious to anyone who has
watched some of her performances. The volume and quality of
costumes used in these performances would seem to increase
 THEATRE-ON-DEMAND 353

production costs and work against her low-budget policy, but this is
not the case. She does not pay for the making of these costumes,
because she makes them herself and the best costumed troupe awards
she has won attest to their effectiveness. Her skill and passion for
dressmaking is a result of a long period of tutelage under her mother,
who was a dressmaker.
Performances are designed to match the financial capacity of the
host or commissioning body. Thus some performances are
elaborately designed, while others are stripped to the bare essentials
and minimalist. Some involve large casts, while others use small
casts. This flexibility in negotiation is important, because it is part of
the practice that ensures a steady stream of contracts. Some freelance
theatre directors who responded to this paper when it was presented
at the University of Ghana in 2008 complained that they too have
received requests for plays from banks, but things always went
wrong when they submitted their budgets. These people submitted
budgets of between N600, 000 to N800, 000 for a performance.

TROUPE MANAGEMENT
Having won Best Troupe Award at least twice – at Joint Domestic
Trade Fair in Minna, 1994 and at Joint Domestic Trade Fair in
Lokoja, 1995 –, it is appropriate to take a brief look at how her
troupe is organised and funded. This section will therefore look at the
make-up of the troupe, including the criteria for recruitment of the
members, qualification and roles. Most of the members of the troupe
are Council staff who are recruited based on their natural talents in
various aspects of performance.
It is not certain why, but Oyedepo performs most of the tasks in
the productions, except of course, acting. But she is at once the
playwright, director, composer, choreographer, costume designer and
sometimes set designer. She does virtually everything by herself,
probably because there is hardly any other person within the troupe
to perform them to her satisfaction. In any case, she was appointed
director for the purpose of raising the artistic standard of the Council.
Whatever may be the actual reason for playing so many roles, it has
the advantage of reducing production expenses and achieving artistic
unity.
Besides Oyedepo, other Council staff do contribute in various
capacities to the performances. Funsho Ekundayo, Head of the
Performing Arts Department, acts as the business manager for the
troupe. He is responsible for getting performance contracts for the
354 NGOZI UDENGWU

group and he sometimes takes the troupe to performances, when

Oyedepo is indisposed. Tunde Agboola is the house manager;
Charles Ihimodu the stage manager; Rashidat helps in composing
songs and she sings very well too; Fred Ibrahim and Segun
Ogunyemi assist in the choreography.

COSTUME AND MAKE-UP

Costume plays a prominent role in Oyedepo’s performances. The
colour and variety of costumes in these plays are stunning, making
one wonder about the amount of money and time that must have
gone into the procurement, design and construction, cleaning,
maintenance and storage of these costumes. Her plays usually
involve very large casts and the quantity of costumes required to go
round such a large cast could only be imagined. Suffice it to say that
costumes in Oyedepo theatre are exceptionally colourful and rich.
In the performance of The Rebellion of the Bumpy-Chested, the
women of the Bumpy-Chested Movement (BCM), who numbered at
least twenty, changed dance costume three times. She uses costume
to define time, place and character. Her character costumes range
from simple shirt and trousers to very rich expensive traditional
Yoruba attire to intricate peculiar costumes of herbalists deities and
masquerades. The two historical periods covered by the action of
Beyond the Dark Tunnel are clearly defined through costumes. For
instance, the bright, elegant costumes of post-colonial South African
women contrast sharply with the dark indigo tie-dye cloth of their
pre-colonial counterparts. Again, the contemporary English shirt and
trousers of the post-colonial South African men contrasts with the
loincloths that their counterparts wore in the flashback scene. The
typical South African costume worn by the dancing maidens at the
independence celebration was a good attempt at historical accuracy
in costume. But for his enormous height, the actor who played
Mandela could pass for the real Mandela. His costume, as well as his
skin colour and the patch of grey hair on his head gave a convincing
picture of the character being represented.

STAGE DESIGN AND SET

In Beyond the Dark Tunnel, branches were used to create a forest and
flats with mud huts were used to indicate the village. The forest
occupies stage right, the mud huts flank the big map of Africa that
occupies almost the entire upstage space. All the hut flats have
doorways, though they are not actually functional for no character
 THEATRE-ON-DEMAND 355

used them. Characters have several entries and exits. There were two
exits on both sides of Africa. Though it is not noticeable to the
audience until the characters appear or disappear through it, there is
an exit through the thick branches on stage right centre that leads to
the stream. Maidens carrying earthen pots on their way to the stream
disappear through the thicket and soon run out of it screaming. They
have seen an apparition (the first white explorer to arrive at the
village). In The Rebellion of the Bumpy-Chested the flats are
arranged in a triangular form with one side jutting into the stage
instead of parallel with the stage floor. This style of laying the flats
has the advantage of creating more entrances and exits for the
movements, which are many and varied. There are paramilitary
training sessions for the members of the Bumpy-Chested Movement
(BCM), an encounter between the women and the men in a dance
movement and there are actions in five different homes. Unlike in
Beyond the Dark Tunnel and A Play that was Never to be, more
realism was evident in the performance of The Rebellion. There was
realistic use of furniture (executive upholstery seats and ottoman) as
well as real food and drinks. The contemporary nature of the topic
may have necessitated these elements of realism. In A Play that was
Never to be, a branch was used to create the illusion of a forest on
stage left, while Abina’s mansion with a balcony occupied stage
right. Though Oyedepo has no training whatsoever in technical
theatre, whenever enough money is provided she pays attention to
stage design, and the surprising thing is that she designs the scenery
herself.

REVISITING TRADITIONAL THEATRE

A good artist responds to the demands of the time and place of his or
her art by adapting the style and technique to meet those needs. This
is how theatre has been able to survive the pressures of changing
times. Consequently, in this chapter, theatre-on-demand is sees as
appropriate for this period in the history of theatre in Nigeria, when
the economic downturn, the crime wave as well as socio-political
unrest and religious and ethnic conflict, not to mention the stifling
competition from satellite television and celluloid film, militate
against conventional theatre practice with its permanent theatre
buildings and resident companies. It appropriates elements of
traditional performances to address immediate socio-political needs.
In this case it is as functional as traditional rites and rituals, which
Yemi Ogunbiyi (1981: 4) has described as “performance dictated by
356 NGOZI UDENGWU

needs.” It is accessible to the populace because it has the flexibility to

go “to the people rather than waiting for people to come to it”
(Jeyifo, 1984: 1)

STELLA OYEDEPO AND THE TRAVELLING THEATRE

TRADITION
Oyedepo’s style of theatre has a lot in common with the travelling
theatre tradition popularised by Hubert Ogunde and his
contemporaries. But the times and social-political condition in which
they worked differ. This section will look at points of convergence
and divergence between Oyedepo’s theatre and the travelling theatre
style, and consider how Oyedepo’s approach bests suits the socio-
political condition in the country in this century.
The travelling theatre practitioners were talented and committed
theatre makers who, though they have no formal training in theatre,
were able to create a powerful theatre tradition that combined
traditional Nigerian performance practices and the colonial theatre
style of the 19th-century concert in Lagos. One major characteristic of
this theatre form is mobility, travelling from place to place
performing for paying audiences who had to buy tickets in other to
watch the performances, which took place in any space or venue,
including school fields and halls, hotels and town halls. Oyedepo, it
seems, adopts the style partly for the same reasons as the travelling
theatre artists and partly because her performances are commissioned
by organisations and agencies who determine the theme, provide the
venue, invite the audience and pay for the performances. So while the
travelling theatre practitioners had to pay for venues and sometimes
suffer disappointment and loss, Oyedepo does not have to worry
about such problems. Again, unlike the travelling theatre companies,
she has no need to sell tickets for her performances or bother with
publicity. When she took performances to schools at the early stage
of her career in theatre, she did charge a fee. But since she started
commissioned performances, she has no need for that, and in any
case, it is left to the sponsors to decide whether to charge fees and
sell tickets for the performances, as well as determine the size of the
audience.
Another significant similarity with traditional travelling theatre
practice is in troupe management. It is on record that the founders of
travelling theatres dominated the company by performing the major
tasks – playing the lead role, writing the scripts, directing the troupe,
financing the company, etc., while other members of the company
 THEATRE-ON-DEMAND 357

performed minor roles and earned much less. It would appear now
that they monopolised every aspect of production, but the conditions
under which they worked necessitated their approach. Unlike the
leaders themselves, who had training in traditional theatre practices
and were exposed to Western theatre forms through church and
school concerts, the members of their company had no such strong
foundation and needed to be guided every step of the way. Again,
there were no such companies prior to theirs to act as points of
reference, which meant that the artists were creating theatre
companies for the first time and learning from the process. The
travelling theatre companies, therefore, were not run as companies in
the real sense of the word, but as a family business, where the family
heads are in charge of all aspects of production.
Oyedepo does not act, so she does not play the lead roles. This
difference has a ripple effect as it also affects the way she achieves
great ensemble work in her performances, in contrast to the star-
oriented plays of the traditional travelling theatre movement, whose
practitioners are more precisely called actor-managers. Be that as it
may, though she does not act herself, Oyedepo controls almost all
aspects of the production. She produces the script, directs the troupe,
designs and constructs the costumes, writes the songs and
choreographs the dances. Asked why she does not delegate some of
these tasks to members of the troupe, she explained to this writer that
when she did that on occasion she observed that they imitate her
methods. She does not want them to imitate her. She wants them to
develop their own artistic style. Whatever this means, it negates the
mentoring which is needed for sustenance and continuity.
This tendency to control all aspect of production has a history
going back to Duke George II of Saxe-Meiningen in the late 19th
century court theatre of Germany. This approach is probably
responsible for the artistic quality and success of the traditional
travelling theatre movement and Oyedepo’s performances, which
have won so many awards. But these companies also have a short
lifespan. The Saxe-Meiningen theatre managed to survive for about
sixteen years; the travelling theatre companies collapsed after the
death of their founders. This is inevitably going to be the fate of the
Kwara Performing Troupe when Oyedepo leaves the Council, which
will be very soon. She is planning to resign from the Council and
start a centre for African art and culture to be called Mama Africa
Cultural Initiative (a non-governmental organisation), some of whose
objectives include the promotion, preservation and development of
358 NGOZI UDENGWU

African arts and culture. When she leaves, there is no hope that the
vibrancy and artistic tempo of the troupe will be maintained, unless it
is possible to find someone who will be as productive, innovative and
committed as Oyedepo.

THE SOCIO-POLITICAL IMPACT OF OYEDEPO’S

THEATRE STYLE
Oyedepo’s thematic concerns are many and varied. In her political
plays she constantly portrays spineless despots whose tyrannical
leadership leaves their subjects in a dehumanised condition, and also
shows the various ways oppressed people engage the tyrants. Some
of her plays that deal with political issues include Days of Woe, the
story of Wokilomo, a tyrannical king of Ideraland, who is so
powerful and ruthless that all the attempts made by his disillusioned
subjects to depose him fail, with serious repercussions, until
eventually he is afflicted with an incurable disease called “Black
Tongue”. The disease reduces him to a mere vegetable and not even
his once very obedient servant would oblige him with mercy killing.
He dies a lonely, painful and wretched death. This recourse to
Providence may be considered escapist, but it offers hope in a
hopeless situation.
Vigil for the Prisoner of Conscience was performed for the
Association of Nigerian Authors during their annual convention in
1995, which took place at the University of Lagos. The story was
inspired by the fate of Ken Saro Wiwa, a popular Nigerian writer and
activist, who was arrested and charged with the death of some chiefs
of Ogoniland (one of the communities in the troubled oil-rich Niger
Delta of Nigeria). The play was originally performed with the title
Prisoner of Conscience, but few hours after the performance Ken
Saro Wiwa was executed and Oyedepo quickly changed the title to
Vigil for the Prisoner of Conscience. The play is about a journalist
who is not afraid to speak the truth about the political injustices in the
land, even though no one else has the courage to speak out. He is
arrested by the powers that be and ordered to recant all the damaging
statements about the leadership in his newspaper. He refuses to
recant and is tortured to death. It turned out that Saro Wiwa, whose
arrest motivated the play, ended his life in the same way as the
character in the play, thereby making the play appear prophetic.
Beyond the Dark Tunnel is an epic story about apartheid in South
Africa and Nelson Mandela, who was born like a Christian Messiah
to liberate his people. The story started a century or more before the
 THEATRE-ON-DEMAND 359

birth of Mandela, when it was prophesied that a child would be born

in the future who will have “dela” in his name and who will lead his
people to independence. It tells about the first coming of Whiteman,
how the natives were turned into slaves and made to work for hours
under torturous conditions, how the ANC was formed, the birth of
the child (Mandela), and how the leaders including Mandela were
jailed. The play is part of the celebration at his release from prison, it
received an honourable mention at the Association of Nigerian
Authors Convention. It is one of the few productions in which
Oyedepo employed elaborate technical design – scenery, lighting and
sound, and stage effects. Needless to say, this is surprising coming
from somebody who claims she had no formal training in the art of
theatre. To achieve the desired effect, she created thick ever-green
forest on the stage, flickering lights, accompanied by the sound of
thunder and then rain (water sprayed from backstage). The use of
costumes in the production was remarkable, which is not surprising
considering her general expertise in dress making and the aesthetic
function of costume in all her productions. But what makes the
costumes in this particular production even more remarkable is their
historical accuracy for the time and place of the play’s action – the
apartheid period in South Africa. The typical zebra-design short skirt
and blouse complete with accessories, the big flat top hat – the
isicholo of KwaZulu-Natal. The actor who played the character of
Mandela was costumed and made up to look like Mandela. His
costume was obviously an imitation of one of the traditional waist-
length tunics (fabric, colour and style) which Mandela sometimes
wore during his political campaigns before his imprisonment. His
hair style with grey patches in the right places leaves no doubt about
the character being represented. But for his height (he was very tall),
the actor could have been mistaken for Mandela.
Burn the Fetters was commissioned by the French Embassy in
Nigeria for the centenary of the French Revolution. As is usual with
Oyedepo, she chose to dramatise the process of the revolution, but
adapting the story for the Nigerian environment while retaining the
real names of some of the key players in the revolution – Louis XVI,
Robespierre, Marie Antoinette – but giving them Yoruba titles. Thus
there are characters such as Olori Marie and Oba Louis, while the
story is set in a place called Faranse. By placing the action on
Nigerian soil, Oyedepo seem convinced that what happened in far-
away France in a long-gone time is being replicated in Nigeria, and
that despotism and dictatorship can be defeated if the various tribes
360 NGOZI UDENGWU

in Nigeria can get together and fight the common enemy, namely
Nigeria’s military dictators. The play was performed in 1989, during
the reign of one of Nigeria’s chain of military dictators, General
Badamosi Ibrahim Babangida, whose nepotism created political as
well as religious tensions between the North and other parts of
Nigeria, leading to several violent religious clashes. Oyedepo proves
herself to be a socio-political watchdog who does not only feel the
heartbeat of the people, but empowers them to take their fate into
their hands and exercise their right to depose bad leaders. She also
shows fearlessness in expressing her objections to the military
dictatorship or any form of tyranny. Understandably, the underlying
idea of the play is based on Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s philosophy of a
“social contract”, which is clear from the following conversation
between three of the oppressed citizens (Gabriel, Barbier and
Emilie), who venture into the city to give more meaning to their
lives, and the ones who remain back in Faranse (Didier and his wife,
Nicole), enduring the oppression of their despotic king, Oba Louis
and harassed by heartless landlords. Asked what they have brought
from the city, they respond:

BARBIER: So many things that opened our hearts and minds. So many
things that pulled the wool from our eyes. We were greatly enlightened.
DIDIER: That’s interesting.
GABRIEL: There was one man in particular whose teaching captured
every heart. His name …eh…eh… Now I can’t remember the name
again. (Shaking his head) What is wrong with me? His name has got
stuck in my head.
EMILIE: Which one of them?
GABRIEL: The one who said that all men are born free and all are born
equal.
EMILIE: Eh…eh… His name is Toso.
BARBIER: No. You mean Rousseau.
GABRIEL: Eh…eh… That is it. The man is a great thinker. He said
that we are all born equal but unfortunately we are in chains. We are in
fetters (26).

This idea is used in the play, culminating in the revolutionary

activities that lead to the crushing of Louis’s regime at the end of the
play.
 THEATRE-ON-DEMAND 361

WOMEN’S ISSUES IN OYEDEPO’S THEATRE

While Oyedepo cannot be called a feminist, she has written quite a
number of plays addressing women’s issues. Some examples of such
issues include widowhood in On His Demise (2002), where a
woman’s house and property are impounded by her late husband’s
family, and she and her children are thrown into the streets. Both the
lame accusation that she killed her husband, who actually died in a
car crash while taking his brother to see his estranged wife, and the
insistence that she remains in the village to complete the lengthy
mourning period at the risk of losing her job, are ploys to keep her in
the village while her house is being looted in town.
Childlessness is given a tragic twist in Our Wife is not a Woman
(1979, pub. 2004) in which an illiterate village mother-in-law, who
disapproves of her liberated daughter in-law’s life style on which she
blames her seeming childlessness, decides to find a real wife for her
son, Kola. The estranged wife, Dupe, unable to deal with the
husband’s betrayal, falls into depression and takes her own life, but
unknown to anyone she was two months pregnant with twins, as an
autopsy reveals. By a twist of fate the new wife, Adekemi, turns out
to be a hermaphrodite, having developed a medical condition which
Dr Fayemi calls “testicular feminisation.” The doctor explains the
situation to the flabbergasted Kola;

DR FAYEMI: Well, it is a condition in which the patient has a normal

and attractive female appearance, but upon closer examination of the
gonads which are situated in the abdomen or groin, they are found to be
testes, with an excessive development of the interstitial cells. Your
wife’s chromosomal structure is found to be XY instead of XX.
KOLA: I can hardly comprehend all these medical jargons.
DR FAYEMI: Mr Ahmadu, in the layman’s language, your wife is a
hermaphrodite (102).

The Wife’s Fiery (1998 pub. 2009) portrays a virtual revenge

situation in which an abusive husband, Sebi, is left a quadriplegic
after an accident and is tormented by his wife’s adulterous behaviour.
The wife, Alero, does not try to hide the fact that she is having a love
affair with another man. When her husband complains, she reminds
him it is payback time, because she is doing to him exactly what he
did to her and so he should not complain. Until the end of the play
the audience does not know that all the actions are an enactment of a
play which the abused wife has written and presented to her husband
as his birthday gift. Thus, in a special case of a play within a play,
362 NGOZI UDENGWU

pent-up anger is vented on paper and the sanctity of marriage is

restored through dramatic narrative. This offers a unique way to
resolve marital quarrels.
Women’s educational empowerment is the subject of Brain has
no Gender (1997, pub. 2001). Commissioned by the Ministry of
Education to deal with the theme of the education of the girl-child
and performed in Government House, the play celebrates Osomo’s
intellectual success. Osomo, a brilliant girl at school, happens to be
the first of sixteen children born in one family, all girls. Her father,
Alani, a successful farmer who believes that education of girls is a
waste of money and resources, removes her from school to marry her
off to an 80-year-old man, Kelani, who cannot eat kolanut because he
has lost almost all his teeth. But with the help of her teacher, Osomo
disappears for eight years during which time she received a
scholarship to study medicine at university. She achieves the best
results in the history of the medical school, receives sixteen awards
and conducts ground-breaking research that leads to a cure for
HIV/AIDS. It is a proud Alani who, at the end of the play, apologises
to his daughter Osomo saying; “Osomo, a child in a million. A
daughter who has done what a thousand sons cannot do. I hope you
have forgiven me” (52). He goes ahead to declare:

ALANI: (Stopping the drumming) I am going to feast in this house for

twenty-one days to compensate for my years of mourning. I have
mourned and mourned that God did not give me a male child. Is Osomo
not greater than one hundred men? … (53).

This speech, when contrasted with the one he made earlier in

the play, shows that a change of attitude has occurred. His
earlier declaration was:

ALANI: … (pounding his chest) No daughter of mine dares to oppose

my wishes or will. I have suffered enough from the curse of having
female children. I want to marry them off as soon as they see their first
period. I am not happy seeing them fill up my house like alligator-
pepper seeds fill up their pod. In the case of Osomo, I should have
married her off three years ago (32).

This play is not just a celebration of the success of a fictional

character but of the author as well. This can be deduced from the
dedication page of the play, which reads:
 THEATRE-ON-DEMAND 363

To
Mother – Florence Olawanle
For her invaluable support
She whom by my Maker’s Grace
Has been an indispensable prop and stay
Indeed a standing pillar.
Holding fort for me at the home front,
Facilitating my profuse creative efforts.
She gave her life to me.
Without her services
I would not be what I am.
To God be the glory for what she has
offered so much selflessly.

Women’s rebellion against perceived injustice against them

forms the subject of The Rebellion of the Bumpy-Chested: A Feminist
Manifeto (1984, pub. 2002). In an effort to destroy the myth of male
supremacy and resist subjugation by their husbands, a group of angry
women, organised by their apparent male-hater, Captain Sharp,
engages in all kinds of physical training in order to build up the
muscles, which will enable them meet their husbands strength for
strength. Some of them abuse their husbands verbally and physically.
Their rebellion fails, apparently because of a lack of sincerity of
purpose. A woman’s right to choose a love partner, from any age
group, it does not matter if the lover is her son’s friend and
classmate, is the subject of Don’t Believe What You See (1994). It is
the story of Doris, a widow and a single parent who falls in love with
17-year-old Maja – the age mate of her son, Banky. Banky,
representing social consciousness, violently opposes the relationship,
while the mother feels justified in her choice by pointing out that
men fall in love with much younger girls and society approves of it.
This drama of love, violence and intrigue raises moral and social
questions about woman’s rights and freedoms in society, and in this
particular instance, a woman’s right to choose a love partner.
When the play was premiered in the Kwara State Library in
honour of the participants in the 1992 Workshop for Magistrates,
Area Court Judges and Customary Court Judges, the playwright/
director, Stella Dia Oyedepo, urged the legal team to declare “Banky
guilty or not guilty”. In all these plays Oyedepo preserves the
sanctity of marriage, even while agitating for women’s rights and
advocating respect and empowerment for them, for she believes that
men and women are made to complement each other, but that can
only happen in an environment of mutual respect.
364 NGOZI UDENGWU

CONCLUSION
Live theatre may be in decline because of the myriad of problems and
challenges. However, challenges are natural and point to a need for
change. These challenges should therefore be regarded as a wake-up
call to review the present mode of presenting performances with a
view to finding a lifeline that will enable a live theatre that is
resistant to these eroding influences. Theatre-on-demand seems an
appropriate alternative mode of performance for this century, having
demonstrated its efficacy in Stella Oyedepo’s theatre style. But this
entails more than just reviving theatre. It means a change in
technique and approach, aimed at keeping live theatre afloat and able
to withstand changing socio-political conditions.

NOTES

1 Osofisan’s keynote address has been published in West Africa

Review: Issue 11 (2007), as well as in Duro Oni (Ed.). Trends in
Nigerian Theatre Practice (2008) pp. xiii -xxv (a Society of
Nigerian Theatre Artists publication). It has also been published in
Theatre Research International 33(1), March, 2008: 4-19, under
the title “Literary Theatre after the Generals: A Personal Itinerary.”
The quotation above is taken from Trend.
2 To mention just a few: French Embassy in Nigeria, UNICEF,
British Council, EEF/FGN Middle Belt Programme, Nigeria
Telecommunications (NITEL); Nigerian Bar Association (NBA);
Nigerian Union of Teachers (NUT); Nigerian Union of Journalists
(NUJ); National Drug Law Enforcement Agency (NDLEA);
NNPC; Associatio n of Nigerian Authors (ANA); Federal Road
Safety Commission (FRSC); Nigeria Labour Congress (NLC);
National Orientation Agency (NOA); Home Economics
Association of Nigeria; Institute of Personnel Management (IPM);
Association of Lady Pharmacists of Nigeria (ALPN); Association
of Bankers; Trade Bank of Nigeria Plc; Union Bank Plc; Alliance
Française; Intercontinental Bank Plc; Kwara State House of
Assembly; Kwara State Government; Ministry of Women affairs;
Ministry of Agriculture and Natural Resources; Ministry of Justice;
Ministry of Education; Ministry of Health; Ministry of Works;
Ministry of Water Resources.
3 Some of the awards include the French Award by the French
Government for writing and producing Burn the Fetters in 1989;
Best Play Script Writer for her National Arts Festival 1992 play
entitled The Missing Ingredients; Best Youth Drama at the
National Youth Festival, 1991. Honourable mention by the
 THEATRE-ON-DEMAND 365

Association of Nigerian Authors Convention, 1991 for her play

Beyond the Dark Tunnel. Best Dance Drama at the Youth Festival,
1993, for her dance Drama entitled Survive We Will. National
Productivity Merit Award, 1996. National Council of Women
Society Merit Award in performing Arts, 1997. Best Troupe Award
at Joint Domestic Trade Fair in Minna, 1994. Best Troupe Award
at Joint Domestic Trade Fair in Lokoja, 1995. NAMAAC Award
for Best Costumed troupe at the National Arts in Abeokuta, 1994.

REFERENCES
Adedeji, JA and Hyginus Ekwuazi. 1998. Nigerian Theatre: Dynamics of a
Movement. Ibadan: Caltop Publications.
Amadi, Elechi. 1973. Isiburu. Ibadan: Heinemann Educational Books
Limited.
Beier, Ulli. 1981. E. K. Ogunmola: A Personal Memoir. In Drama and
Theatre in Nigeria: A Critical Source Book. (Ed.) Yemi Ogunbiyi.
Lagos: Nigerian Magazine Publications.
Echeruo, Michael J. C. 1981. Concert and Theatre in the Late Nineteenth-
Century Lagos. In Yemi Ogunbiyi (eds) Drama and Theatre in Nigeria:
a Critical Source Book. Lagos: Nigeria Magazine: 357-369.
Jeyifo, Biodun. 1984. The Yoruba Popular Travelling Theatre of Nigeria.
Lagos: Nigeria Magazine.
Ogunbiyi, Yemi (Ed.). 1981. Drama and Theatre in Nigeria: A Critical
Source Book. Lagos: Nigeria Magazine.
Ohiri, Innocent. 2005. (1) Discouraging Over-Reliance on Gate-Takings for
Better Theatrical Business Dimensions: A Saving Grace for
Contemporary Theatre Practice. Nigerian Theatre Journal, 8 (1): 146-
156.
Okagbue, Osita. 2007. African Theatres and Performances. London and
New York: Routledge.
Okoh, Juliana. 2005. (2) Theatre Practice in Nigeria: Problems and
Prospects. Nigerian Theatre Journal, 8(1): 402-421.
Osofisan, Femi. 2008. Theatrical Life after the Generals: or, Nigerian
Theatre in Search of a Lifeline. In Duro Oni and Ahmed Yerima (eds)
Trends in the Theory and Practice of Theatre in Nigeria, xiii-xxv.
Lagos: Society of Nigerian Theatre Artists (SONTA).
366 NGOZI UDENGWU

Oyedepo, Stella ‘Dia. 1992. Beyond the Dark Tunnel (A Tribute to Nelson
Mandela). Ibadan: Heinemann Educational Books Nigeria Plc.
________. 2004. Our Wife is not a Woman. Abuja: Lovgo Publications
(Nigeria) Limited.
CHAPTER 15

ABIBIGORO: MOHAMED BEN ABDALLAH’S

SEARCH FOR AN AFRICAN AESTHETIC IN THE
THEATRE
AWO MANA ASIEDU

INTRODUCTION
What is the contribution of Africa to contemporary literary and
dramatic theory? Is there room for an African contribution, and if so,
where and how may it begin? One of the results of colonial education
has been that often Africans look to the West for examples and
models which they may apply to their own contexts; rarely do we
look within our own cultures for models which we also might
contribute to other cultures. The need to theorise our own
experiences and clearly articulate these and document them in
permanent ways for future generations is evident. When I was first
faced with teaching a graduate course on African Theories of Drama,
my first inclination was to ask: What African theories of drama are
there? Where was I to start from? With my experience of Western
literary theories I was imagining theories of similar character and
formulation. Ironically, one of the recommendations in my PhD
dissertation was the need for “a new critical vocabulary for assessing
African aesthetics” (Asiedu, 2003: 311). This I found to be necessary
because I had often had to resort to Western categories and critical
terms which did not always perfectly capture the concepts and ideas I
was seeking to present. Teaching this course, therefore, was an eye-
opener and a further push towards the realisation of the urgent need
not only for a new critical vocabulary, but also for the clear
articulation of theories which emanate from our cultural experiences.
This paper asserts the need for indigenous theorising and
valorisation of contemporary theatre practices in African terms and
with reference to African culture. It specifically examines two terms,
anansegoro and abibigoro, coined by Ghanaian playwrights and
368 AWO MANA ASIEDU

theatre practitioners, Efua Sutherland and Mohamed ben Abdallah

respectively, to describe their theatre practices. The multiple
meanings of these terms and their implications for the theatre
practices they describe form the major thrust of the first part of the
discussion. I argue that the efforts of Sutherland and Abdallah to
theorise their practice and to provide some critical vocabulary and
tools emanating from their own cultural contexts must be seen not
only as appropriate but in fact as essential in our post-colonial
context. The second part of the paper focuses on the theatre of
Abdallah, describing the elements of his abibigoro as are evident in
his plays, particularly The Slaves and The Fall of Kumbi, which have
recently been revised by the playwright. This revision of earlier
plays, I argue, is in attempt to place them more prominently within
his conceptual frame of abibigoro and are indications of his restless
search for an authentic form.

ANANSEGORO: THEORISING A GHANAIAN AESTHETIC

Niyi Osundare has observed, in the context of discussing post-
structuralist theories, that:

The world is shaped – frequently determined – by the words we use for

expressing it. In naming the world we also name ourselves, evoking a
recognisable, tangible construct of that panoply of realities which
constitutes what we call the human experience. Names serve as the door
to the house of experience, a guide to hidden meanings in the shadowy
nooks of time and place. Names tell stories, liberate or imprison; they
may also serve as self-fulfilling prophecies (2000: 114-5).

Osundare has captured, in the above words, a fundamental belief

of most African peoples, which in fact informs the naming of
children, and translated it into the realm of academic theorising in a
way that is vitally important for this process of indigenous theorising.
In naming her experimental theatre anansegoro, Sutherland was
asserting the need to name our own cultural practices from within.
She had earlier, in 1962, declared her desire to “create theatre which
would obtain its strength and inspiration from Ghanaian life” and
which was not a slavish imitation of Western models (as quoted in
Drum, 1962: 19). This process had to start, as with a new-born baby,
with a name.
Anansegoro derives from two Akan words, Ananse and agoro.
Ananse, as most people would know, is the name of the trickster
spider character in Ghanaian folklore. Sutherland appropriately
 ABIBIGORO: ABDALLAH’S SEARCH FOR AN AFRICAN AESTHETIC 369

selects this character from folklore about whom countless stories are
told and to whom all stories belong. Within Akan societies, stories
are called Anansesem, meaning Ananse’s words or words about
Ananse or Ananse stories. It must be observed that it is not only
folktales about the character Ananse which are referred to as
Anansesem, but all attempts at story telling. This even extends to
situations where someone is perceived to be telling lies or to be
playing imaginatively with the truth. This meaning is linked to the
trickster character of Ananse himself, whom Sutherland described as:

a kind of everyman, artistically exaggerated and distorted to serve

society as a medium for self-examination. He has penetrating awareness
of the nature and psychology of humans and animals. He is also made
to mirror in his behaviour fundamental human passions, ambitions and
follies as revealed in contemporary situations (1975: v).

By implication, therefore, these stories about Ananse deal with

fundamental human issues and essentially serve as tools for
educating people on what is acceptable behaviour and what is not.
By adopting this folkloric character’s name in developing her
anansegoro, Sutherland was affirming the African playwright’s role
as the conscience of society; as the one who holds the mirror up for
society to see itself and to take necessary steps towards positive
values.
Significantly, Sutherland did not adopt the traditional term
anasesem for her new kind of theatre, but adapted it to anansegoro,
thus replacing asem, word/words with agoro, play; shifting the
emphasis from just the spoken word to action, drama, performance.
This word agoro is polysemic. Its most obvious meaning is ‘play’,
which is often associated with Sutherland’s usage, so we translate
anansegoro as Ananse play, the seminal example being The
Marriage of Anansewa.
Beyond ‘play’, however, agoro evokes other meanings. Most
significant of these, for our purposes here, is ‘beauty’ or ‘aesthetics’.
People may refer to skilful dancing or playing of football as agoro.
This emanates from the enjoyment or pleasure that is derived from
watching such displays. Agoro also implies fun. To say odiegoro
could mean ‘she is playing’ or ‘she is joking’. This implies laughter,
joy, enjoyment, emphasising the entertaining aspects of performance.
Sutherland’s use of anansegoro thus captures accurately the
Akan cultural concept of performance aesthetics. The beauty of a
performance lies not only in the dexterity of the performer, but also
370 AWO MANA ASIEDU

in the values the performance transmits to the audience. This idea of

the need for performance not only to entertain but to educate in some
way in order to be fully appreciated has been confirmed by audience
research in Nigeria and Ghana (see Barber, 2000; Asiedu, 2003).
Beyond the semantic import of Sutherland’s adoption of the term
anansegoro is also the form and structure or the kind of drama or
performance implied. Within the story-telling tradition of anansesem
are certain conventions which Sutherland equally adapts in her
experimentation. These include the use of a story-teller, a group of
musicians or players who serve as a kind of audience participation
within the play, and the use of musical interludes known as mboguo.
These elements are evident in The Marriage of Anansewa, which is a
prototype of the Ghanaian genre of anansegoro, a genre which
strongly foregrounds theatricalism and makes no pretence of realism.
A theatre genre vibrantly aware of itself as theatre and conscious of a
live audience whose contribution is required and actively solicited to
make it complete. A careful study of The Marriage of Anansewa
reveals how she experiments with these conventions in her
anansegoro. That, however, is not the focus of this paper,1 but rather
how other playwrights after her have built on this foundation, taking
it further. Notable among these are Martin Owusu, the late Yaw
Asare and Mohamed ben Abdallah. The rest of this paper considers
the innovations brought to this form by Mohamed ben Abdallah in
his abibigoro.

ABIBIGORO: THE THEATRE OF MOHAMED BEN

ABDALLAH
The Akan word agoro has already been discussed. The first part of
Abdallah’s coinage, abibi has its roots in the word bir, which means
‘to darken’. It has undergone some phonological changes and may
be defined as ‘black’. Abibi combines with ‘man’ as in abibiman to
mean ‘black nation’ or simply ‘African’. ‘African’ here is all
encompassing, referring to black people everywhere. A combination
of the two words, thus gives us abibigoro, which translates as black
theatre or theatre of African people.
It is important to note the philosophical and ideological
motivations of Abdallah in trying to understand his experimentation
with abibigoro. Drawing inspiration from great pan-Africanist
thinkers such as WEB du Bois, CRL James, Kwame Nkrumah and
others, Abdallah’s theatre is permeated with pan-Africanist desires
(see Abdallah, 2000; Asiedu, 2001). His plays often employ a
 ABIBIGORO: ABDALLAH’S SEARCH FOR AN AFRICAN AESTHETIC 371

constellation of characters and themes from African history and from

different parts of the African continent, refusing to be limited to any
one specific African context. In the preface to his collection of plays,
The Trial of Mallam Illya and other Plays, he notes his “search for an
authentic ‘African Theatre’.” So here we see the main point of
departure between the theatre of Sutherland and that of Abdallah.
Whiles Sutherland seeks a Ghanaian-specific aesthetic in
anansegoro, Abdallah seeks a wider African aesthetic in abibigoro,
which is encapsulated in the name he gives his practice. Essentially,
Abdallah’s abibigoro is an expansion of Sutherland’s anansegoro;
not only does he seek a wider African aesthetic, but he goes beyond
the use of Ghanaian folklore and story-telling traditions and is
constantly experimenting with form, engaging with myth, ritual and
contemporary realities.

AN OVERVIEW OF ABDALLAH’S OEUVRE

To date Abdallah has published two collections of plays with three
plays in each one: The Trial of Mallam Illya and Other Plays (1985)
comprising The Alien King, The Verdict of the Cobra and the title
play; The Fall of Kumbi and Other Plays (1989), which comprises
The Slaves, The Witch of Mopti and the title play. His play The Land
of a Million Magicians was also published in 1993. He also has to his
credit two plays for children, Ananse and the Rain God (1989) and
Ananse and the Golden Drum (1994).
As noted above, the short preface to this first collection states his
“search for an authentic ‘African Theatre’; a theatre that caters for
the needs of all people, from the peasant to the University professor’.
He also acknowledges drawing inspiration from the example of
Sutherland, placing his theatre practice actively in that trajectory. He
expands on what he meant by “authentic African Theatre” in an
interview:

What I meant by it at that time was a theatre that is authentic in its

relationship with people for which it is meant. ... Authentic African
theatre doesn’t have to be people dressed in raffia skirts, or themes
drawn from ancient African history and so on. It has to have meaning
for the people for whom you write. ... A true artist is one who works for
his society –its present and its future; that is the sense in which I mean
the authentic African Theatre. The artist should be at peace with
himself, in that sense of being able to hold up a mirror to his own
society, for good or bad (2000: 63-4).
372 AWO MANA ASIEDU

Clearly, therefore, he is not aiming at an elusive ‘pure’ African

aesthetic, which some would argue is impossible in a post-colonial
context,2 but at a kind of theatre which would be recognised by
Africans as their own and appreciated as such. His search is for “a
theatre that would break down barriers and be attractive to all’ and
“appeals across a broad spectrum” of society (2000: 64).
A full study of the individual texts though may be useful, but is
beyond the scope of this chapter.3 I shall now turn to Abdallah’s
recent revisions of his earlier texts and suggest how these revisions
are significant for his theatre practice.

REVISION OF OLDER PLAYS

In 2005 Abdallah revised his play The Slaves, which was first
published in 1989, and re-titled it The Slaves Revisited. He made two
major changes. First, a new female character, Ayanda, who acts as an
effective antagonist to the male protagonist and provides another
voice in the debate on slavery, is introduced. The second change is
the addition of a new segment of a search party of relatives of the
captured slaves who perform what may be referred to as a ‘poetry of
abuse’ and direct most of their words to the audience and contribute
strongly to breaking the naturalistic and presentational framework of
the play. In 2007 Abdallah once again embarked on a revision of a
previously published play, The Fall of Kumbi. This time round, it
was quite an extensive expansion of the plot with the introduction of
three story-tellers and a group of players he calls abibigromma,
which means black players.
These recent revisions are not isolated instances. Abdallah has
noted on several occasions how he often revises his plays after they
are staged; in fact, he never publishes a play without having it staged.
A comparison of an earlier publication of his first play The Alien
King in African Arts in 1971 with the 1987 publication reveals some
significant revisions. For example, in the first publication the play is
simply presented by a story-teller who addresses the audience,
whereas in the 1987 version some meta-theatrical elements are
introduced in which some students of Sanusi the Griot are rehearsing
a play, which happens to be the story of the Alien King, and that
rehearsal becomes the unfolding of the play. Besides this there are
some other changes. Fanon’s words quoted from Black Skins White
Masks, “Oh Body! Make of me always/A man who questions!” are
given as lines to Kumbaru in the 1971 version, but are paraphrased as
a prayer by Sanusi in the 1987 version and are rendered:
 ABIBIGORO: ABDALLAH’S SEARCH FOR AN AFRICAN AESTHETIC 373

O spirits of our ancestors

Make our kings
Of men who always question!

Thus revisions of his work are not new. His reasons for revising
these two plays under discussion here, however, are important for
understanding his practice of abibigoro. While his other plays had all
been conceived and presented within a narrative framework, in the
case of at least one story teller these two plays were originally more
representational, presented quite naturalistically. In his book Fertile
Crossings: The Metamorphoses of a Genre Pietro Deandrea accuses
Abdallah and Efua Sutherland of being so preoccupied with creating
an African form of theatre that they sacrifice significant content. He
adds, however:

[This] lack of thematic import does not affect The Slaves and The Fall
of Kumbi … These two historical tragedies, on the slave-trade and the
legendary origins of the Asante Kingdom, share the idea of sacrifice, of
choosing a physical death instead of a spiritual one. … Despite
abounding in music, dancing and above all rituals, however, the two
plays also share a nearly total lack of presentational style, as if the
author were less successful in integrating themes and techniques…
(2002: 247).

Deandrea’s comments seem to imply that where Abdallah has

something of importance to say, he has no need to resort to a
presentational frame where the story is relayed by story tellers. To a
large extent the revisions of these two plays are a response to
Deandrea’s comments. Abdallah has deliberately reworked these two
plays and placed them within a presentational framework as found in
his other plays. In an informal chat about his work he intimated that
he now feels totally at home with the form he has created and thus is
able to go back to his earlier work to more clearly reflect his
particular style of theatre. If this indeed is the reason he has
embarked on the revision of these plays, then it may be inferred that,
for Abdallah, placing his plays within the presentational frame is of
the utmost importance. In an interview in Accra in July 2009 he
underscored the representational frame as a primary marker of
abibigoro, to the extent that he suggests the concept may be applied
to plays written by others to be presented in a realistic manner and
being transformed as a result:
374 AWO MANA ASIEDU

I am thinking of abibigoro not in terms of brand new plays that I or

someone else will write. I am even thinking of it as a tool of the
director. I see myself taking any play, written maybe for a box stage
and doing it in the abibigoro style without changing the play and have a
story teller come and introduce the play, talk about the author and then
the play begins. Then at certain points he cuts into the action and
comments on it. He may even take on the playwright and so on and thus
in the end, put the play within this frame without touching the play
itself (2009).

A key element of Abdallah’s abibigoro is thus open theatricality

and a presentational frame. The rest of this paper will consider the
various elements of his abibigoro.

TRADITIONAL STORY-TELLING TECHNIQUES

Abibigoro borrows heavily from traditional story-telling techniques,
which include the use of music, dance, mime, audience participation
and one or more story-tellers. It is also indebted to the theatre
practice of the German theatre practitioner, Bertolt Brecht.4 Even
though, as stated above, Abdallah is searching for an African
aesthetic in the theatre, he does not deny Western influences on his
work. He constantly refers to William Shakespeare as having
stimulated his love for the theatre and as influencing his use of
language and even history (Abdallah, 2000; Deandrea, 2002; Ampon,
2007) Other influences he acknowledges are Wole Soyinka and Efua
Sutherland. The point made earlier about his view of authenticity is
thus underlined. How does he then engage with these elements in his
abibigoro to create an African aesthetic that breaks barriers and
appeals to a wide spectrum of people? Some specific examples will
illustrate the point.
The Witch of Mopti opens with actors walking into the audito-
rium to welcome members of the audience and to exchange greetings
with them. There is a stand on which costumes are hung where
actors go to change their costumes in full view of the audience. In
this play also there is not just one story teller, but two main story
tellers, with the rest of the cast also being recognized as part of the
story telling. There is a strong impression created that the story being
told is not one person’s story, but the story of many persons told
from varied perspectives. The use of a multiplicity of story-tellers is
again evident in the new version of The Slaves, although in a totally
new way.
 ABIBIGORO: ABDALLAH’S SEARCH FOR AN AFRICAN AESTHETIC 375

One of the key revisions of the earlier play is an introduction of a

search party for the lost relatives of families whose kith and kin had
been stolen by the slave raiders. This search party serves as a kind of
story-telling device which successfully reduces the play’s original
representational style.5 Their role is described in the opening stage
directions:

All over the continent of Africa, VOICES, DRUMS AND GONG-

GONGS are desperately calling upon the lost, the stolen, the abducted
and the captured to come back home. In the semi-darkness a search
party enters. It is made up of warriors, priests and priestesses,
mourners, musicians and dancers. They are led by scouts holding
firebrands. They stop at various points for the SEVEN VOICES to make
their utterances. The seven utterances are accompanied by appropriate
SACRED MUSIC and DANCE from various parts of Africa (1989: 54).

The utterances of these seven voices serve to provide the audience

with information about the people who had been captured and locked
up in the slave dungeon. The action in the dungeon, which centres on
the attempts of the captured slaves to escape captivity, is alternated
with these voices, a device which serves as an eloquent commentary
on the lives and history of these captured slaves. For example, the
Sixth Voice tells us about Ayanda, one of the captured slaves:

Ayanda, my child!
Ayanda! Child of Angola!
Proud daughter of Nzinga’s warrior women!
Ayanda towers gracefully, like the silk cotton tree
Above the tallest of men!
Where are you Ayanda my child?
What is wrong with the white men?
Do they not know who you are?
Surely they must know
That you were not fashioned to be any man’s slave!
Surely, they must understand
That you come from a stock of warrior women
Who will not be tamed by any man.
Tall Ayanda!
Strong Ayanda!
Beautiful Ayanda!
Please come back to us!
Your people need you, Ayanda!You are nobody’s slave! Ayanda!... (3).
376 AWO MANA ASIEDU

Thus, rather than have a story teller or tellers bring these facts about
the captured slaves to the audience, he employs this device of voices,
seven of them crying out in anguish and pain against the injustice of
slavery. The actors playing these voices remain at the front of the
stage and address their words to the audience. They are not a part of
the main action in the dungeon, but serve to provide a sort of frame
within which that action occurs. In both The Fall of Kumbi and The
Witch of Mopti, however, the story-tellers, unlike the voices in The
Slaves Revisited, interfere with the main action of the play. In The
Fall, one of them actually attempts to stop the story at an
uncomfortable moment, but the other two insist that the truth had to
be told for posterity to learn valuable lessons. In The Witch of Mopti
the story tellers are instrumental in providing a resolution to the play.
Abdallah’s constant innovation is evident in these varied uses of the
story-teller motif.
Besides the presentational frame and of naturalistic
representation, which clearly is key to abibigoro, another prominent
element of this theatre is the use of history and the oral tradition.

ORAL TRADITION AND HISTORICAL FACT

History, as found in history books and as transmitted through the oral
tradition, is a major source of Abdallah’s abibigoro. The Fall of
Kumbi is based on the history of the fall of Kumbi Saleh, the capital
of the old Empire of Ghana. Events and people in the play are
directly linked to those of history, as recorded by Basil Davidson in
his A History of West Africa 1000-1800 (1977). The leader of the
Almoravids who fought and overthrew Kumbi Saleh, Ibn Yasin, is
Ibn Yacin in the play. Oral history has it that the people of modern-
day Ashanti migrated from the northern parts of Africa. Abdallah
adopts this into his play directly; the seven high priests in the play are
referred to as “Guardians of the seven clans of the Golden City” and
their individual names, Agona, Bretuo, Asona, Asenee, Asakyiri,
Akuana and Ekoono, correspond to the seven clans of the Akans.
There is here an obvious link with modern Ghana, which was known
as the Gold Coast until 1957 because of the abundance of the
precious metal in the country. There are even more striking allusions
to oral history; the priests who are directed by the high priest to lead
the people of Kumbi Saleh to the new land where they will build a
stronger and better nation are concerned about the “Golden Stool of
Kumbi”, which represents their king and the soul of their nation. To
this the High Priest responds:
 ABIBIGORO: ABDALLAH’S SEARCH FOR AN AFRICAN AESTHETIC 377

The Golden Stool of Kumbi

Will be swallowed up in the womb of heaven
It will rest in the custody of the supreme God for many, many years
And our people will be without a king for a long time. …

And when the new day dawns

A High Priest shall rise amongst our people
Who will forge us into the proper force that we must be!
To become the great nation that we shall be!

He will cause the skies to burst open

And the golden stool will issue forth
From the womb of heaven
And then shall our people have a King again! (30).

This is a direct reference to the legendary priest Okomfo Anokye

who, it is said, commanded a golden stool from the heavens through
divination and through that established Osei Tutu as a powerful king
over the Ashanti.
Similarly, the historical trans-Atlantic slave trade forms the basis
of The Slaves. Abdallah recreates a situation in a dungeon where
captured slaves await a ship to carry them off to their unknown
destination and captures their sense of desolation, frustration and
helplessness in the face of the brutality of their captors. In his The
Trial of Mallam Ilya Abdallah makes use of what he calls ‘faction’,
that is facts and fiction combined. That play was inspired by a
newspaper article about the trial of a man in Ghana during the
Nkrumah era. He makes similar use of historical and factual elements
in other plays, such as The Alien King and Land of a Million
Magicians. The ubiquity of history in Abdallah’s work is deliberate
and purposeful. In an interview, he stated this quite directly:

I think I am – to use the word obsession is not too far from the truth –
quite obsessed with the necessity to look at African history through the
theatre. Especially because I believe a lot of our problems as Africans
today have to do with the way in which we have been made to ignore
our history, the negatives, and the especially, the positives. That has
been a very powerful tool of colonialism, slavery and neo-colonialism. I
am right there amongst those African playwrights who refuse to
separate theatre from the development of Africa (2009).

Abibigoro is thus theatre that confronts African audiences with

their history in order to spur them on to a more productive future. For
378 AWO MANA ASIEDU

Abdallah, ignoring history is to remain underdeveloped. But

Abdallah also deals with contemporary concerns such as corruption
and purposeless leadership in his plays.

RITUAL AND OTHER ELEMENTS OF ABIBIGORO

Like Sutherland, Abdallah’s plays make extensive use of music and
dance, and are essentially a total theatre experience. His use of mime
and ritual, however, are unprecedented. The Witch of Mopti
particularly is replete with ritual performances as the King of Mopti
engages his aunt, Maimuna the witch, in a contest of power which
involves several witch doctors and medicine men from all across the
black world; there is the Dagomba wizard, the seer of Ile Ife and the
priestess of the shrine of vodun, among others. Deandrea notes that,
“Abdallah holds ritual practices in deep respect” (Dendrea, 2002:
250). Abdallah, however, has himself said that he sees ritual as
providing an “important medium for the regeneration of society. I
don’t believe in theatre purely for entertainment” (2009). For him
therefore ritual in his plays has an important role in achieving his
goals of social transformation and is not merely an ‘add-on’ to
provide an African environment or for exotic purposes. In that sense
the ritual battles between the witch doctors in The Witch of Mopti
must be re-evaluated to disclose their significance for African
societies.
Again his recent revisions point to an enhancement of ritual in
The Fall of Kumbi. After an elaborate description of “the shrine of
the father of Gods” in the stage directions, an elaborate ritual is
performed:

A gong begins to beat the Akom, the dance of priests. The gong is joined
by drums and the HIGH PRIEST begins to shake violently as he
becomes possessed. Soon all the priests are possessed. Suddenly, the
HIGH PRIEST screams loudly as the spirit throws him high into the air.
He lands in the middle of the stage and begins to dance all over the
stage while the other priests stand in their original positions, shaking
from head to foot and waving their whisks in appreciation of the HIGH
PRIEST’s performance (1989: 89).

In fact the new version is replete with rituals, from playful rituals of
smearing henna on Zainata the princess the night before her wedding
in preparation for her husband, to the gruesome scene where the mad
princess takes her own life and outwits her captors after performing a
 ABIBIGORO: ABDALLAH’S SEARCH FOR AN AFRICAN AESTHETIC 379

ritual dance with her maidens, showing her superior power over her
male captors.

POWERFUL FEMALE CHARACTERS

Abdallah, perhaps more than any other Ghanaian playwright, has
created some incredibly powerful women in his plays, making this an
important feature of abibigoro. The portrayal of women in literature
generally and particularly in African literature has been the subject of
much debate (see, for example, Cole, 2007; Ntangaare, 2002; Amin,
2002). While it appears Adallah has a penchant for sexual scenes
which some may construe as presenting women as sex objects, he in
fact creates women who are powerful, mysterious, brave and with
superior intelligence. The Queen mother and the Mad Princess in The
Fall of Kumbi just mentioned above are some examples. She
succeeds in getting Ibn Yacin to agree to her performing one last
ritual before becoming his wife, since he had failed to accede to all
her pleas against the marriage. Yacin, fascinated by this beautiful
woman, who was supposed to be for the gods, cannot resist her
charms and succumbs. Her ritual, however, turned out to be a ritual
suicide as she drinks a deadly potion. It was as though to say she had
taken charge of her own sexuality and chosen to die rather than
become, against her will, the wife and lover of the captor of her own
people. Her action must thus be seen as brave. In the original version
she dies by impaling herself on a large wooden phallus amidst her
maiden’s erotic dances. This has been criticised and trivialised in
performance. In his 2009 interview Abdallah indicated that he was
keen to move away from such trivialising, which he never intended
in the first place (see also Abdallah, 2000). In The Slaves Revisited
Ayanda, the tall beautiful slave, stands up to the Man, who claims it
is partly the fault of their fellow Africans that they were sold into
slavery. She challenges him and during a heated debate gives him a
massive slap. When they plan to escape, she volunteers to join in the
plot and in the end dies fighting for their freedom. In this same play,
however, a female slave, who is favoured by the overseer of the
slaves because of her sexual favours, is responsible for betraying
their plan of escape, though she is clearly forced by circumstances to
do so. She is openly flogged by her supposed lover, the overseer, and
made to confess the plan of escape; she does this with a plea that no
one should get hurt, but in her vulnerable position she was not likely
to receive any favours from the ruthless slave overseer. She is not the
380 AWO MANA ASIEDU

typical weak woman out only to get her own way, but a victim of her
circumstances.
Abdallah has not, to my knowledge, ever given an indication of
having any sympathies with the feminist cause. What is evident,
however, is his commitment to presenting a fair picture of women,
both negative, as in The Witch of Mopti, and positive, as in The
Slaves Revisited. To his credit, he has created some challenging and
brave roles for female actors.

LANGUAGE: MOVE TOWARDS POPULAR THEATRE?

It is important to note another dimension of Abdallah’s abibigoro,
which is his active use of multiple languages. Sutherland had
employed a smattering of Fante in her anasegoro, with many of the
songs used being also in Fante. Abdallah goes further by creating
characters who speak only Akan. The second narrator in The Witch of
Mopti, whose lines are all in Akan, is of particular note here. Akan is
thus presented alongside English and the two interestingly presented
in a kind of simultaneous translation, making it possible for speakers
of either language to follow the meaning in the play, though a
speaker of both languages would be in a better position to more
clearly understand the play. Indeed for Abdallah this is the normal
everyday occurrence in many African countries, where English and
local languages are used frequently in tandem.
Abdallah’s abibigoro also features prominently the other
languages of theatre, such as movement, dance and mime. The
actor’s body is very important for this genre and not only her/his
voice. Often the plays are reliant on tableaux formations and there are
long passages of stage directions provided for mimed sequences (see
Deandrea, 2002). This is one way in which he seeks to engender
popular appeal, breaking the barriers between his educated and non-
educated audiences. However, because of the demands these
elements put on the theatre director and actors, Abdallah’s plays have
most often been directed by the playwright himself. Other directors
are seldom bold enough to attempt staging these plays.

CONCLUSION
One key challenge I see facing contemporary African theatre scholars
is the need to articulate and document our own theatrical practices for
posterity. There is a need for modern-day African Aristotles, who
will rise to the occasion to capture and describe current theatre
 ABIBIGORO: ABDALLAH’S SEARCH FOR AN AFRICAN AESTHETIC 381

practices across the continent, which would in the future serve as an

‘African Poetics’ for the study of African theatre.
From the discussion on the polysemic nature of the terms
anansegoro and abibigoro, it is apparent to me that we cannot afford
to let our African languages be overtaken by English and other
foreign languages. It is clear that the English language is inadequate
to carry the full burden of our cultural concepts and practices. There
are certain aspects of our culture and more specifically theatre
practice which may not be adequately described or assessed in
foreign terms. How may one express the concept of the appropriate
Rasa in Indian theatre in a single English word, for example? It
remains Rasa, a unique contribution to critical terminology in world
theatre criticism. Similarly anansegoro and abibigoro ought to
become Ghanaian and indeed African contributions to the literary
discourse on theatre, providing appropriate terms in which to
describe and evaluate these unique genres of theatre. This paper,
hopefully, has outlined the major features of Abdallah’s abibigoro
and shown how he drew inspiration from Sutherland’s earlier
experimentation with anansegoro.

NOTES

1 For more on Sutherland’s The Marriage of Anasewa, see

Amponsah (2007) and Djisenu (2000).
2 Indeed, he has always acknowledged influences from Western
theatre practitioners such as Shakespeare and Brecht, among others
(see Abdallah, 2000; Asiedu, 2001).
3 Pietro Deandrea’s 2002 study of Abdallah’s plays provides more
detailed accounts of his thematic concerns and it remains, to my
knowledge, the most comprehensive study of his plays so far.
4 Several African playwrights have been influenced by the
techniques of Brecht, though many admit it is because his
techniques bear such close affinity to their own traditional forms.
Brecht, as is well known, borrowed from Asian forms of theatre
and performance to create his epic theatre. See discussions on
Brecht’s influence on African writers in Richards (1996) and
Awodiya (1995). Brian Crow (2009) also discusses this and draws
attention to the important ways in which Brecht’s theatre differs
from that of these African playwrights.
5 Tizaina Morosetti (2007) had the rare opportunity to watch The
Slaves and The Slaves Revisited in tandem at PANAFEST 2005
and discusses her impressions of the differences between the two
382 AWO MANA ASIEDU

performance texts. Not having spoken with the playwright and

director, she makes her own judgements, often erroneous, about the
motivations for the changes to the revised version. She, however,
notes quite correctly that the addition of the search party serves “as
a ‘bridge’ between the audience and the actors, establishing a
closer contact between performers and spectators” (229).

REFERENCES
Abdallah, B.M. 1987. The Trial Of Mallam Ilya And Other Plays. Accra:
Woeli Publishing Services.
________. 989. The Fall Of Kumbi And Other Plays. Accra: Woeli
Publishing Services.
________. 1993. Land of a Million Magicians. Accra: Woeli Publishing
Services.
________. 2000. On Plays and Playwriting: Interview by Anastasia
Agbenyega and James Gibbs. In Kofi Anyidoho and James Gibbs (Eds.)
FonTomFrom: Contemporary Ghanaian Literature, Theater and Film,
pp. 59-68. Amsterdam, Atlanta: Rodopi.
________. 2009. Personal interview with the author.
Amin, Dina. 2002. Resisting ‘Male’ Virtues of the Ancient Egyptian
Goddess Isis in the Theatre of Twafiq al-Hakim and Nawal al-Sa’dawi,
pp. 15-28. In Jane Plastow (ed.) African Theatre: Women, pp.15-28.
Oxford: James Curry.
Ampon, Fanny Nana. 2007. Dr Abdallah Stood by His Values. Daily
Graphic, Thursday, January 28.
Amponsah, Ernest Kwasi. 2008. Expanding the Frontiers of Anansegoro:
Yaw Asare’s Contribution to the Search for an Authentic Ghanaian
Theatre. Unpublished MPhil Thesis, University of Ghana, Legon.
Anyidoho, Kofi and James Gibbs (Eds.) 2000. FonTomFrom:
Contemporary Ghanaian Literature, Theater and Film, pp. 59-68.
Amsterdam, Atlanta: Rodopi.
Asiedu, Awo Mana. 2003. West African Theatre Audiences: A Study of
Ghanaian and Nigerian Audiences of Literary Theatre in English.
Unpublished PhD Dissertation, University of Birmingham, UK.
Asiedu, Awo. 2001. Interview with Mohamed ben Abdallah. In Martin
Banham et al. (Eds.) African Theatre: Playwrights and Politics, pp. 95-
106. Oxford: James Currey.
 ABIBIGORO: ABDALLAH’S SEARCH FOR AN AFRICAN AESTHETIC 383

Awodiya, M.P. 1995. The drama of Femi Osofisan: Critical perspectives.

Ibadan: Kraft Books Ltd.
Banham, Martin et al. (Eds.) 2001. African Theatre: Playwrights and
Politics. Oxford: James Currey.
Barber, Karin. 2000. The Generation of Plays: Yoruba Popular Life In
Theater. Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press.
Cole, Catherine M. 2007. “Give Her a Slap to Warm Her Up”: Post-Gender
Theory and Ghana’s Popular Culture. In Africa After Gender? (Eds.) C.
M. Cole, T. Manuh and S.F. Miescher. Bloomington: Indiana
University Press.
Cole, T. Manuh and S.F. Miescher (Eds.). C. M. 2007. Africa After Gender?
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Crow, Brian. 2009. African Brecht. Research in African Literatures. 40(2):
190-207.
Davidson, Basil. 1977. A History of West Africa 1000-1800. London:
Longman.
Deandrea, Pietro. 2002. Fertile Crossings: Metamorphoses of Genre in
Anglophone West African Literature. Amsterdam: Rodopi.
Djisenu, John K. 2000. The Art of Narrative Drama in Ghana. In Kofi
Anyidoho and James Gibbs (eds.) FonTomFrom: Contemporary
Ghanaian Literature, Theater and Film, pp. 37-43. Amsterdam,
Atlanta: Rodopi.
Drum. 1962. ‘Ghana Gains a Living Theatre’. February: 19-21.
Duerden, Dennis and Cosmo Pieterse (Eds.) 1972. African Writers Talking:
A collection of Interviews, pp.183-195. London: Heinemann.
Layiwola, D. 2000. African Studies and The African Identity: An Essay on
the Theory of Culture. In Layiwola D. (Ed.) Rethinking African Arts
and Culture, pp. 37-52. Cape Town: CASAS Book Series 4.
________. (Ed.) 2000. Rethinking African Arts and Culture. Cape Town:
CASAS Book Series 4.
Morosetti, Tizaina. 2007. PANAFEST 2005: Review of ben-Abdallah’s The
Slaves Revisited.’ In Research in African Literatures 38(2): 227-232.
Ntangaare, Mercy Mirembe. 2002. Portraits of Women in Contemporary
Ugandan Theatre. In Jane Plastow (ed.) African Theatre: Women, pp.
58-65. Oxford: James Curry.
Osundare, N. 2000. African Literature and the Crisis of Post-Structuralist
Theorising. In Layiwola, D. (Ed.) Rethinking African Arts and Culture,
pp. 113-127 Cape Town: CASAS Book Series 4.
384 AWO MANA ASIEDU

Plastow, Jane (Ed.) 2002. African Theatre: Women. Oxford: James Curry.
Richards, Sandra., (1996) Ancient Songs Set Ablaze: The Theatre of Femi
Osofisan. Washington: Howard University Press.
Sutherland E. 1972. Efua Sutherland interview. In Dennis Duerden and
Cosmo Pieterse (Eds.) African Writers Talking: A collection of
Interviews, pp.183-195. London: Heinemann.
________. 1975. The Marriage of Anansewa: A Storytelling Drama,
London: Longman.
CHAPTER 16

AFRICAN DANCE IN DIASPORA: THE EXAMPLES

OF NIGERIAN YORUBA BÀTÁ AND DÙNDÚN
JELEEL O. OJUADE

INTRODUCTION
African dances as performed in the global age can be classified into
varying types such as traditional, popular, etc. and art types. Each of
these categories is so broad that there is no way a study like this
could cover them adequately. Our focus in this paper is to reflect on
African dance performances as staged occasionally in a diasporic
context. The term ‘diaspora’ as popularly conceived in Africa is a
denotative label for dispersed peoples removed or exiled from a
common territorial origin. Melville Herskovits (1990), Zora Neale
Hurston and others, following the pioneering work of Carter G.
Woodson (1968) and especially W.E.B. Du Bois (1970), identified
the problematic nature of ‘race’ as an analytical category and focused
on culture as the key element in the analysis of these peoples. It has
been emphasized that the greatness of Africa lies in its culture and
not in its science or technology (Nketia, 2001). Culture includes the
totality of the arts, of which dance is a significant part. African dance
research is a complicated issue, given the paucity of written material
and because most of the documents that we have access to were
written by ‘others’ and not by Africans themselves. This study
therefore raises questions such as: what musical instruments are
associated with Bàtá and Dùndún dances? Do Bàtá and Dùndún
dances create an identity for Africans (Nigerians)? Do African
dances have any relevance in the global age? In trying to proffer
logical responses to the above questions, it is important to note that
the concept of dance in Africa refers to a combinative strategy which
includes music as an inseparable element. Music and dance are twin
arts, which authentically give an identity to ‘Africa’ in their
performances.
386 JELEEL O. OJUADE

DANCE AND MUSIC MAKING IN YORUBA CULTURE

Culture is regarded as the way of life of a people (Eagleton, 2000).
Among Yoruba people this way of life is inseparably bound up with
music and dance. Music and dance are therefore a part of the culture
of the Yoruba people, located largely in the south-western part of
Nigeria. Without music and dance, the people cannot properly create
poetry, record history, educate or train children, celebrate at festivals,
praise or abuse, entertain, instruct, disagree, marry or have funerals.
This is not surprising, because dance is conceived as the oldest of all
arts based on the fact that the medium of its expression is the human
body. It is an artistic expression predicated on movement (Layiwola,
1989: 97). Such expression involves the rhythmic movements of the
body to music.
Music in traditional Yoruba culture features in every aspect of
human life right from childhood to adulthood. The combination of
music and dance in Yoruba culture gives life to the people. From the
moment of birth, the young individual is exposed to strong musical
stimuli. Cradle songs are sung to babies when they are on their
mothers’ backs; these are accompanied by simple dance steps, giving
meaning to the rhythm. The infant is thereby subjected from the
earliest age to vocal and instrumental music in addition to the
movement that accompanies it. As soon as the child is old enough, he
or she is encouraged to sing and imitate simple dance movements.
Smith (1962: 75-77) observes:

Most West African children are encouraged to dance as soon as they

can walk. By the age of five, they have learned the primary elements of
festival dances, and by six they are able to dance with adolescents with
accurate rhythm, dance patterns and song.

Harper (1970: 71) observes that there is in all forms of Nigerian

dance a “close relationship between the rhythmic patterns of the
dance and the rhythms of the accompanying music or song”. In her
description of the movement patterns of the Gelede dance (a form of
Yoruba dance), she writes:

Dancers are assessed on their ability to ‘play the drums with their feet’
following the rhythmic changes, and nuances of the mother drum
Iyaalu, and the accompanying songs (1970: 71).

Illustrating the ubiquitous nature of dance in Yoruba culture, Folabo

Ajayi (1998) emphasizes how dance is deployed expressively,
 AFRICAN DANCE IN DIASPORA 387

maximally and easily in different social and aesthetic activities of

people. She states that:

Thus, even while recognized and performed as an independent art form,

many dances are created either as part of, or to emphasize and illustrate,
important aspects of Yoruba social structure and events (1998:2).

Importantly, the Yoruba are a highly religious people, which is

reflected in their culture as expressed prominently in their music and
dances. There are as many variants of music and dances as there are
gods (Orisas) in Yorubaland. This study focuses on two important
aspects of Yoruba culture (Bàtá and Dùndún) that equally accompany
the people in worship as well as other functions. Royce (1977: 3) also
states that:

The human body making patterns in time and space is what makes the
dance unique among the arts and perhaps explains its antiquity and
universality.

The observations above show that dance and music performance in

Nigeria, and especially among the Yoruba, constitute a primary site
for the production of knowledge. Here philosophy is enacted and this
enactment becomes a means by which people reflect on their current
condition and their social world. This is because participants in a
dance or music performance have a particular message which they
have to put across to the society (audience).

BÀTÁ AND DÙNDÚN: A DESCRIPTION

Bàtá drums, which the Yoruba call Ilu Bàtá, belong to the
membranophone group. Bàtá belongs to the class of drum that
assembles people together. In fact, when placing Bàtá side-by-side
with other drums such as the Yoruba Dùndún in performance, it is
the Bàtá that will attract or pull the large crowd together. This is
simply because of its sound (shrill and sometimes harsh). It therefore
belongs to the higher category in the grouping of drums among the
Yoruba people.
Owing to its secularization and patronage by the people, Bàtá
drums, which originally accompanied Sango (the Yoruba god of
thunder and lightning), now feature in other contexts such as political
campaigns and rallies, house-warming gatherings, birth and naming
ceremonies, installations and, coronations as well as at the death,
funeral and burial of kings, chiefs or any other persons of rank. Its
388 JELEEL O. OJUADE

music permeates every level of traditional life, be it social, religious

or ceremonial, showing that Bàtá is an integral and functional aspect
of celebrations. To further clarify Bàtá, it is necessary to itemize and
discuss the ensemble.
The Bàtá drum ensemble consists of four, and sometimes five,
drums. Functionally, each of the drums is constructed with its own
structure and particular tone. The drums are:

i. The Ìyá ìlù – the lead drum;

ii. Omele Abo – female drum;
iii. Omele méjì – twin drums, which are again sub-divided
into two:
a. Omele Ako – male twin drum, and
b. Kúdi – female twin drum; and
iv. Ìjìn – an accompaniment to the lead drum (Ìyá ìlù). In
performance all the drums in this ensemble are directed
by the Ìyá-ìlù, which is the lead drum.

ÌYÁ ÌLÙ
The Ìyá ìlù translated literarily into English means ‘mother drum’. As
the lead drum, the Ìyá ìlù dictates the pace which the other drums
follow. It is conical in shape and has a double membrane. Ìyá ìlù with
its two sides produces two different tones. The wider end produces a
bass sound, while the smaller end gives a very harsh and sharp
sound.
The Ìyá ìlù of the Bàtá orchestra is a talking drum; this sound is
achieved by the drummer’s varying and alternating the sequence of
beats on both sides of the drum. The two membranes are played
simultaneously to produce a tone. The wider membrane is played
with the palm of the hand, while a leather strap referred to as Bílálà is
used with the left hand in playing the smaller membrane. The Ìyá ìlù
improvises against the background of repeated patterns in an
ensemble. It keeps on rattling and the Omele Abo echoes what it
says. While reciting Oríkì (praise poetry) or other Yoruba texts, the
middle and high tones of Ìyá ìlù are reinforced by Omele Abo. Ìyá ìlù
sometimes makes uncompleted statements, which Omele Abo picks
up and concludes. The Ìyá ìlù, being the lead drum in the Bàtá
ensemble, introduces each piece before it is joined by the Omele (the
secondary instruments).
 AFRICAN DANCE IN DIASPORA 389

OMELE ABO
The Omele Abo has a double membrane, one animal skin membrane
on each side. The membrane is either that of a pig, antelope or a goat,
depending on which one is available at the time of manufacture.
However, antelope skin is considered to be the best. The skin which
is about 22 cm in circumference is sewn to the rim on both sides and
kept in position by leather straps which are used to wrap the wooden
body. The Omele Abo is about 84 cm in length. The other end of the
drum, which is smaller, is about 19 cm in circumference.
The Omele Abo resembles the Ìyá ìlù, but is smaller in size. It is
very heavy, which makes it rather difficult to carry. It is carved from
Òmò (Cordia platylhyrsa), Ìrókò (Chlorophora excelsa) or Apa
(Afzella africana). The best of these trees is Òmò, because it is more
resistant to harsh weather such as extreme sunlight, heat or rain.
Drums made from this tree are therefore considered good and able to
‘talk’ or sound very well. In order to produce varied pitches, such as
high and low, a black wax derived from a tree known as Ìda is pasted
on the middle of the surface of the bigger membrane. The Ìda is
about 4 cm in diameter. To get high pitch, the surface of the
membrane is struck and when the area on which the glue is pasted is
struck, a low tone is produced. The other smaller end of the drum
does not have glue on it, but it is struck with a leather thong called
Bílálà Bàtá. The end with paste on it is struck with the open palm.
Omele Abo is held suspended around the neck of the drummer with
strap (àgbékó).
Omele Abo plays the role of bass drum to the Omele Ako and
Kúdi. It is usually the last to enter in a performance in which it is
involved, because it has to give the bass effect to their sound. It also
completes the sound structures played by Omele Ako, because the
latter cannot play very low pitches. Omele Ako’s pitch is higher than
that of the Omele Abo.

OMELE AKO
The drum shares common features with Omele Abo. They are both
constructed from the same materials, using the same procedure of
construction and having the same shape. The Omele Ako, however,
is smaller in size than the Omele Abo. The bigger end of the
membrane of Omele Ako measures about 19 cm in circumference.
The drum is about 68 cm in length, with the smaller end measuring
about 15 cm in circumference. Its playing technique is different from
that of Omele Abo. The pitch which is higher is varied with the use
390 JELEEL O. OJUADE

of the palm. To get a high pitch, the fingers are used in striking the
surface of the membrane, while the palm is used when a low pitch is
required. Omele Ako usually enters immediately after Kúdi in a
performance by the Bàtá ensemble.

KÚDI
Kúdi is the smallest of the Bàtá drum set. It is made up of two or
three small drums which are tied together and beaten in turns in order
to get a polyrhythmic effect. The construction techniques as well as
materials are the same as those of Omele Abo and Omele Ako. Like
other drums, it is suspended from the neck by àgbékó (the cloth
strap) and beaten together alternately.
The drums are of the same size, each measuring about 30 cm in
height, while the big and small membrane ends measure 9.5 cm and
6.5 cm in circumference respectively. Kúdi is played only on the
bigger end of the drum. The drum is suspended with the small size
facing downwards, while its bigger end faces up and it is struck with
Bílálà.
Kúdi usually starts the performance by playing a steady rhythm
before the others enter at separate points. In most cases two are used,
in which case one is made wet so that the pitch would be lower than
the other. This is actually responsible for the sound of Kúdi, which is
softer than that of Omele Ako.
It was explained earlier that Bàtá drum ensemble consists of four
or five drums. Interestingly, there can be additions and variations
during Bàtá performances. For instance, the fifth one here that can be
introduced, thereby increasing the number of drums, is called Ijin. It
acts as an accompaniment and not a lead drum. Ìjìn echoes Ìyá ìlù
when introduced. At times, another Kúdi drum is added to Omele
meji bringing it to Omele méta. This is very common with Yoruba
popular musicians such as Kollington Ayinla, Ayinde Barrister,
Lagbaja and some other Juju musicians. This actually helps in using
Omele drums to communicate with ease without having to go
through the process of carrying Ìyá ìlù around.
There is also what is known as Bàtá Ajobo. This is a drum that
doesn’t feature in performance. It is a very big drum that is used by
the families of Àyàn (drummers) to swear oaths in order to arrive at
the truth in a dispute. The combination of all these drums (Bàtá) in
performance is what makes Bàtá a functional idiom.
Bàtá drummers are usually drawn from Àyàn lineages. Àyàn in
Yorubaland are families of professional drummers who have in-depth
 AFRICAN DANCE IN DIASPORA 391

Figure 1: A complete set of Bàtá drums.

knowledge and mastery of nearly all, if not all, of the drums in their
ethnic area. The Bàtá drummer is born into an Àyàn family, from
whom he learns the art of drumming.
Nowadays there is evidence that there is no specific person who
cannot take up the art of drumming Bàtá. It was in the past that
certain or specific rules were attached to drumming Bàtá. Ayankunle
Ayanlade, in an interview on Bàtá performance, explained: “But
today, we are wary of extinction and [want] continuity. All we want
is to ensure its continuity through various means”. In fact, a novice
who does not have any relationship with the lineage of the drummers
can take up an apprentice job and learn the art of drumming Bàtá.
Through this approach, a lot of people have learnt the art of
drumming Bàtá. In supporting this methodical approach to the
teaching/learning of the art of Bàtá drumming, Alhaji Lamidi
Ayankunle emphasized in an interview on Bàtá dance and forms that
it has worked for a lot of people. He said that the method had enabled
him to teach not only Nigerians who have shown an interest, but
foreigners who have come to do research on Bàtá. Today the art of
drumming and learning Bàtá have been extended to both male and
female novices and even foreigners, who voluntarily come to take up
an apprenticeship on Bàtá dance and drumming.
Despite this open invitation, Bàtá drumming still has its lineage.
It comprises people who originally belonged to the families whose
main job or profession was drumming, including names such as
Ayankunle, Ayansola, Ayanlade, Ayantayo, Ayanyinka, Ayanseyi,
Ayantunde, Ayansoji and so on. However, it is now open to all, black
or white, male or female, old or young, to take up the art of
392 JELEEL O. OJUADE

drumming Bàtá. It is no longer a taboo for an ‘ordinary’ person to

take up the art, but regarded as a gift from God.
Meanwhile, the young members and apprentices of the Bàtá
drumming lineage begin by accompanying the older ones on
occasions. Then they graduate to the level of trying their hand at
Kúdi, which they carry about trying to imitate or to learn how to play
the drum by watching the older drummers closely. It is from Kúdi
that they move on to Omele méjì. The only exception is that they
learn how to use two hands in playing fast and slow rhythms. After
some time, if an apprentice is regular and serious about learning, he
would be allowed to try his hand at the Omele Abo. From here, he
graduates to playing the Ìyá ìlù, which is the lead drum. The learning
process therefore lasts between three months and three years. It is
also interesting to know that it is not only those people called Àyàn
who can be taught drumming the Bàtá master drum as explained
earlier on. People who are literate and are not of the Àyàn lineage can
also master it, depending on the level of interest they have in the art.
A complete Bàtá drumming performance is usually carried out by
four drummers. They are the lead drummer, who usually works on
Ìyá ìlù, and is the most skilled and so dictates the pace and rhythm of
the performance. Next is the drummer on the Omele Abo, who acts
as the interpreter. The third is the player of Omele méjì, which
consists of the Omele Ako and Kúdi tied together. There can be a
fourth player on the Ijin, who supports the lead drummer when
necessary.

Figure 2: A complete Bàtá ensemble in performance.

 AFRICAN DANCE IN DIASPORA 393

A fò fò fò fò
Un won ò gbà
A gbe’lù sí’lè
A f’enu wí
Àpótí alákàrà kábíáwó
(We have said it several times
They did not listen
We repeated, repeated it times over
They did not agree
We stop saying it on the drum
And said it with the mouth
The bean-cake seller’s stool
Caused her downfall.)

African musicians and drummers are singers of deeds and

praisers of action. The lead drummer in the Bàtá ensemble
performances demonstrates this by praising a dancer who has
adequately interpreted his drumming and urges him to more action
with these words;

Àdìsá se pèlé pèlé

Se pèlé pèlé, t’orípé
Ìwo la fi sé
Ìwo l’afi s’àgbàlagbà
Ìwo la fi sé
B’énìkán n se kándú kàndù kándú
Ìwo l’afi sé

Àdìsá, be very careful!

Be very careful because
You are the chosen one
You have been chosen to be the leader
You have been so chosen
No matter who else is strutting
You are the chosen one.

Simply put, the movements, distortions and partial illustrations in the

dance are dictated by the drums, which have a language of their own
and a language that is very efficiently interpreted by the dancers.
Dùndún is another popular drum of the Yoruba people. It has a
diversified use, and can be used to play all the rhythms played in the
worship of all Yoruba deities with special drums/rhythm assigned for
any of the deities. Dùndún performs other functions apart from
playing dance and ceremonial music. It can be used to sing the
394 JELEEL O. OJUADE

praises of royal personalities, individuals and so on. In performance,

the ‘mother drum’ Ìyá ìlù acts as the director of the performance. Ìyá
ìlù corrects, informs, warns and directs as necessary.
The difference between the Bàtá music ensemble and the Dùndún
music ensemble in performance and function lies in the fact that
Dùndún speaks with one voice, while Bàtá speaks in two voices. For
example, Dùndún sounds ‘Dòn dòn’. Bàtá sounds ‘Háún ún’; this is
due to the effect of Ìda – a black substance pasted on the larger face
of Bàtá, which regulates its sound. This difference between the two
was experimented with in a workshop on Bàtá and Dùndún drums
organized by the Performing Arts Department, University of Ilorin
and co-ordinated by this researcher on the 6 June 2003. During the
workshop both Ìyá ìlù (of Bàtá and Dùndún) were subjected to
individual tests in order to examine their playing of the drum text
‘woru’. The text is as follows;

Wòrú o, wòrú oko

Wòrú o, wòrú odò
Wòrú p’okà f’éye je
Mo délé, mo rò fún Baba
Baba na wòrú jojo
L’ábé ògèdè, l’ábé òrombó
Atise l’ábé ata
Ide wéwé ni t’òsun
Òjé gìgìgbà ni t’òsà
Sékésekè ni t’ògún
E bámi kìlò fún Baálè kó bámi gb’ódòdó mi
Gbogbo wa l’ògún j’obí.
Woru, Woru of the farm
Woru, Woru of the river
Woru fed birds with corn
I reported to Father when I got home
Father beat Woru seriously
Under the banana, under the orange
There we did the same under pepper tree
Small beads are for Òsun
Big ones are meant for Òsà
Chains are for Ògún
Help me warn the village head
So that he may return my mortar
We are all children of Ògún.

The above text was played on the Bàtá drum Ìyá ìlù by Alhaji Lamidi
Ayankunle (the leader of Ayanagalu International Group), while it
 AFRICAN DANCE IN DIASPORA 395

was played on Dùndún drum Ìyá ìlù by Prof. Bade Ajayi (the then
Head of Department, Linguistics and Nigerian Languages
Department, University of Ilorin). The exercise exposed the hidden
technicalities of both drums. The hour-glass shape of the Dùndún has
some strings attached to its sides, which makes it easy for the
drummer to regulate its pitch and output. But these are not on Bàtá,
which means the sound comes out harsh, clear and unregulated or
uncontrolled. It shows that Dùndún is clearer in output because of its
resonance and more compact shape. However, Bàtá’s pitch is higher
than that of Dùndún.
The place of traditional music in Yorubaland is so important that
from the early hours of the morning in our palaces traditional music
is heard either to entertain the ruler or herald his visitors. Also,
worshippers of traditional religion on waking up begin their affair
with chanting of praises of their Orisha; traders and farmers do this
for protection and luck. Equally, children begin their daily activities
with music and dance. A dance entails the application of the totality
of the human frame just like the Bàtá dance, but in a slow, dignified
and pleasant manner. It is a male-female affair and can be applied to
religious, warlike and secular forms of the dance. Therefore Dùndún,
which is Yoruba music, is traditional music that could feature in all
of the above.
Dùndún is a popular drum in Nigeria, especially among the
Yoruba people. It has a diversified use. It can be used to play all the
rhythms in the worship of all Yoruba deities with special drums. Its
fame can be traced to the towns of Okeigbo and Ifetedo in the south-
western part of Nigeria, specifically in Ondo and Osun state
respectively (the location of this study on Dùndún).
Dùndún music and dance can be performed for different
occasions. It can be performed equally for funeral ceremonies of
important dignitaries in a particular society as for the coronation of a
king, the conferring of a title, house warming, the opening of
conferences. etc. Dùndún is adequate and appropriate for all these
occasions. In 1969 Dùndún had its debut when the federal
government of Nigeria organized a competition in the area of dance
at the national level. This led to a veteran dancer and artist called
Fatai Ojuade searching for expert dancers. He went to Okeigbo to
witness the ending of the masquerade festival for that season. After
the dances he was able to select some of the expert dancers. He
repeated this process in Ifetedo, with the addition of his children;
after this he was able to establish a Dùndún dance group.
396 JELEEL O. OJUADE

Subsequently, in 1970 there was a competition at the local level

in Ile-Ife, where the group was victorious. It was from this particular
contest that the dance started to go places, up to the international
level. In fact, most of the performing musicians in Nigeria today have
devised a way in which at least one of the drum ensembles (Gangan)
plays a lead role in their performance(s). Furthermore, the group set
up by Ojuade, of which the researcher happens to be a member, was
much appreciated by the federal government of Nigeria. In 1982 the
group was invited to take part in a dance drama entitled The
Marriage of Princess Sidibe, in which Dùndún dance and music
played major role. This production was sent to represent the country
at the XII Commonwealth Games and Warana Festival in Brisbane,
Australia. In 1983 the same group was sent to the Republic of South
Korea for a cultural exchange visit and toured the cities of Kwangju,
Pusan and Seoul. Inevitably Dùndún dance and music became more
popular and widespread. It is easy to dance and simple to decode in
terms of movement. This is a dance that developed from the local
level to state, federal and international levels, spreading to other
continents of the world.
Dùndún music is comprised of Iya-Ilu, the mother of all the
drums. It has Sawaro, that is metal objects that surround the surface
of the round face for aesthetic purposes. It also has a leather strap,
which is used to hang the drum from the shoulder of the drummer.
There is also Gudugudu, which is the smallest drum of the entire
ensemble. But it is the one that leads all in performance. It dictates
what the pitch and tempo of a particular performance style of
drumming should be. It also has leather strap for the drummer to
hang the drum from his neck. Another interesting feature of the
ensemble is the Kerikeri, which is a bit bigger than the mother drum.
It is used to support the mother drum in performance. This is
supported by the Isaaju, which resembles the mother drum, but is
smaller in shape.
Then there is also the Kannango, which is the smallest of the
drums that accompanies the mother drum, while the last in the
ensemble is the Gangan, which is smaller in shape but bigger than
Kannango. It is usually played by the older and more experienced
drummers. In performance it is the nails that are used to regulate its
output and sounds. It is the drum that was used to summon the
warriors in the past. Its language is not always clear. It doubles in the
role of the mother drum. It could be seen during the performances of
the masquerades in the towns of Okeigbo and Ifetedo.
 AFRICAN DANCE IN DIASPORA 397

Figure 3: Complete Dùndún set (family).

Functionally, Dùndún performs series of roles. Some of these

includes welcoming visitors at the entrance of the traditional ruler’s
palace, where the drummers are always found every day. It could
also sing the praises of people. In addition, the drum acts as the
director of the performance(s). For instance, if a dancer misses an
important step, the lead drummer can draw the dancer’s attention to
the mistake and offer another opportunity to correct the mistake using
the lead drum. The lead drummer also plays to warn the dancers of
any obstacle in their path during the dance.

CREATION OF IDENTITY IN AFRICA

In African societies participation in dance and music may be a
voluntary activity or an obligation because of one’s membership in a
social group (Nketia, 1975: 35). Public performances which include
dance are presented on a number of social occasions where members
of a group or a community assemble both for the enjoyment of
leisure and recreational activities, as well as for performance of a rite
or a ceremony, a festival, or really for any kind of collective activity.
Post-colonial African art did not just begin with the attainment of
political freedom. It actually has its root in colonialism, which started
in different parts of the region in the nineteenth century. Adepegba
(2001: 170) observes that the political control inherent in colonialism
was the umbrella for all other forms of control over the countries and
their peoples. Dance nevertheless remained an integral event of
everyday life in Africa. It is expression of of identity created by the
398 JELEEL O. OJUADE

people in spite of attempts by European colonisers to ridicule and

eradicate what they considered to be lewd and savage behaviour.
The basis of association for the dance and music making in
Africa is usually the community, those members of the ethnic group
who share a common habitat and who live some kind of corporate
life based on common beliefs and values. The degree of social
cohesion in such communities is usually very strong. The
performance which is allowed for different occasions or situations
may be controlled and the periods for such musical or dance
performances may be regulated. The performances in Africa may be
related to leisure time, the ritual calendar, crises in the life of the
individual or the community, and the exigencies of the seasons. The
implication of this is that performances in Africa are occasion-based
rather than art for art’s sake.
The physical setting of the performance area can be any location
suitable for collective activity. It may be a public place or a private
area to which only the initiates or those concerned with the event are
admitted. On the other hand, it may be a regular place of worship,
such as a shrine, a sacred spot, a grove, a market place or a dance
arena. These are typical features of performances in an African
environment.
In Nigeria each of the various ethnic groups has several dances
for different occasions. It is a common knowledge that there is no
dance for dance’s sake in Africa and that specific dances are tailored
to specific events or occasions. Therefore the modern Nigerian
dancer is beginning to learn as many Nigerian and foreign dances as
possible, based on the modern-day experience and the concept of
hybridity in dance expressions. Competitions display a wider variety
and expertise. The recent experience of dancers in the recent MNet
television show called Let’s Dance is an example of this, where all
the contestants are expected to choreograph and dance all the known
forms (traditional and modern expressions fused together).
Meanwhile, dance companies such as the National Troupe of
Nigeria and the states Arts’ Councils are beginning to provide
avenues for the dancers to expand their dance knowledge and step
vocabulary, creating a distinctive identity for themselves. Some
examples of dance groups in Nigeria that have created a niche for
themselves include the Ivory Ambassadors, Ijodee Dance Company,
Ayanagalu International Dance Group, Ojuade and his International
Group, Crown Troupe, Atunda Entertainments and Badejo Arts (a
Nigerian professional dance group based in the UK).
 AFRICAN DANCE IN DIASPORA 399

AFRICAN DANCE IN THEATRICAL APPLICATIONS

GLOBALLY
African dance has become increasingly popular and accepted
globally. African dance troupes tour the world and regularly perform
at national theatres in Europe and North America. The choreography
of African identities documents various contexts of performance and
examines how the body is presented to a variety of audiences.
Examples are the famous Nigerian Ayanagalu International dancers
and Ojuade and his International Group, where the characters
(dancers) imitate and apply the troupe’s style of performance to
represent contemporary issues. The National Theatre of Nigeria’s
choreography is another example of African dance’s global presence.
In all of these contexts the authenticity of African dance
performances in the theatre still relies on active participation. There
we learn new techniques, how the dancers improvise, how musicians
create new steps, and how these new steps become fashionable
through clips on national television and live performances.
The Ayanagalu International Group is headed by Alhaji Làmídì
Àyánkúnlé, an expert drummer who hails from Iyaloja’s compound
in Erin Osun. Erin Osun is a small rural town about five kilometres
from Osogbo. He is the founder and the leader of the group. Alhaji
Lamidi Ayankunle was born over fifty years ago to a father from
Erin-Ile in the present-day Kwara State and had been in the
drumming profession. He cannot say specifically when this art of
drumming started because of lack of documented evidence (either
oral or written). He believes that it came from Erin-Ile to Erin Osun
over 400 years ago. However, they have been unable to unravel the
historical antecedents of their drumming profession. He said in an
interview:

Though it was through Ifa divination as the case was then to know what
a child has brought from heaven to this world, it is not quite clear to us.
All we know was that our grandfather brought/carried the drums along
with them from Èrìn-Ilé to Èrìn-Òsun following Oba Oyágbódùn, who
left Èrìn-Ilé in the presentday Kwara State to Èrìn-Òsun in the present-
day Òsun State.

It has been observed that since the 1950s Erin Osun artists
(drummers and dancers) have been involved with what has come to
be known as the ‘arts scene in Osogbo’. It was believed to have been
an off-shoot of an organized network of Yoruba theatre companies
400 JELEEL O. OJUADE

(Adekola,1995; Barber and Ogundijo, 1994) made up of a series of

visual artists’ workshops and a number of lively local performances.
On the art of drumming, he stated that based on oral evidence, it
is the practitioners of the profession who are referred to as Àyàn
(families or lineage of drummers), while the Òrìsà (god or deity) that
they make sacrifice to is known as ‘Àgalú’. This affirms the Yoruba-
speaking people’s saying: “Àyàn Omo Àgalú” (Àyàn Child of
Àgalú). As most people look up to God to come to their aid
whenever they are in need of assistance, the drummers equally look
up to Àgalú for their wellbeing. For instance, they say “Àyàn, Omo
Àgalú gbà mí o” (Àyàn, the child of Àgalú, please come to my aid).
The Ayanagalu International Group is comprised of seasoned and
experienced dancers and drummers, consisting of male and female
artists. This group started their career with local performances of
drumming and dancing around the towns and neighbouring villages,
especially during the worship of the Yoruba deities or gods. They did
not only graduate to performances beyond the local area, but
undertook training and teaching of drumming and dancing Bàtá
specifically. This has taken the group members to virtually all the
corners of the world in order to participate in organized workshops,
seminar, festivals and command performances, as well as to train and
teach would-be Bàtá dancers and musicians. The members have
toured Europe, America, Latin America and Asian countries several
times.
Ojuade’s International Troupe is headed by Alhaji Fàtáì Oladosu
Ojuade, who is both the founder and owner of the troupe. As often
happens in such Yoruba popular performing troupes, he is also the
director, manager and lead dancer of the group. The troupe covers
both Bàtá and Dùndún dances. But perhaps we should go back to his
beginnings.
Alhaji Ojuade was born on 2 February 1942 in Ifetedo. He had a
formal education up to the National Certificate in Education (NCE),
which he received from Adeyemi College of Education (under the
then University of Ife, Ile-Ife, but now Obafemi Awolowo
University, Ile-Ife) in 1969. His career in teaching spans the years
1955 to 1991, when he retired from the teaching profession. The
young Ojuade developed an interest in the Yoruba cultural heritage
early on in life. This was occasioned by his acquaintance with an
expert Bàtá drummer whose name was Okunlola, who used to pay
occasional visits to Ifetedo from his home base in Ibadan.
 AFRICAN DANCE IN DIASPORA 401

Okunlola is reputed to have taught many expert Bàtá drummers

in the south-west of Nigeria. The young Ojuade was greatly inspired
by him. He never missed an opportunity to watch his Bàtá
performance anytime the drummer was in town. From listening or
merely watching, he graduated to dancing to Okunlola Bàtá
drumming. Later he was to groom his own Bàtá master drummer, the
late Baderinwa Abefe Oladosu, under the training of Okunlola.
However, his father the older Ojuade did not cherish the idea of a
career in dance for his young son, mostly because of Islamic
injunctions against dance. However, an uncle, J. A. Gbadebo, who
saw the boy’s interest, enthusiasm, dancing skill and prowess was
instrumental in encouraging and spurring him on. Later the elder
Ojuade yielded, prayed for his son and even bought him the costume
and paraphernalia for the dance.
In 1970 he formed a Bàtá dance troupe built around the members
of his own family, with a handful of outsiders. He started a Bàtá
troupe consisting eight drummers and eight dancers, including
himself. Today he still has seven dancers and four Bàtá drummers
working in the troupe. From then on the troupe has had an exciting
career, touring a number of continents. As a result of performing so
well in both the old Western Region Festival of Arts competitions
and those of the Federal Government, he soon entered the limelight.
In 1970 he won first place in the Western Region at the grand
finale of the National Festival of Arts and Culture at the Liberty
Stadium in Ibadan. This success ensured his participation at the
national level in the Festival of Arts and Culture, Festac 77. He was
also a guest artiste at ‘Ori Olokun’ in Ile-Ife. And in 1980 his troupe
was invited to participate in a command performance for Alhaji
Shehu Shagari (former civilian President of the Federal Republic of
Nigeria) at the Liberty Stadium in Ibadan. The highlight of his career
came when his troupe was invited in 1982 by the National Theatre of
Nigeria in Lagos to be a part of the Nigerian artistes representing
Nigeria at the XII Commonwealth Games and Warana Festival in
Brisbane, Australia. The troupe was ably represented in the dance
drama entitled The Marriage of Princess Sidibe, written and directed
by Edith Uche Enem.
In March 1982 the troupe was the guest of two governors –
Governor Bola Ige of Oyo State, who invited the troupe along as
representatives of Oyo State (and perhaps Yoruba culture), and
Governor Jim Nwobodo of Anambra State, who was the general host.
402 JELEEL O. OJUADE

The troupe entertained the Progressive Governors at their 21st

Regular Meeting at the State House in Enugu.
In 1983 the troupe was again invited by the National Theatre of
Nigeria to represent the country in a cultural exchange visit to the
Federal Republic of South Korea, where they performed in three big
cities namely Seoul, Pusan and Kwangju. In the period between 1983
and 1991 there was a kind of lull, the period being marked with only
local performances of a social nature. However, in 1991 the troupe
was again invited to participate in a command performance for the
President and Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces, General
Ibrahim Badamosi Babangida (Rtd), who was on a state visit to Oyo
State. The performance took place at the Cultural Centre, Mokola,
Ibadan.

Figure 4: Jeleel Ojuade demonstrating Ija-fafa-ti-fafa (at middle

& low level) at the XII Commonwealth Games and Warana
Festival in Brisbane, Australia in 1982.
 AFRICAN DANCE IN DIASPORA 403

Alhaji Ojuade, by now used to international audiences, was

invited by the dancer Peter Badejo (OBE) to Birmingham, England in
1993 along with a master drummer, Ayantunji Amoo, from the
Centre for Cultural Studies, University of Lagos, to take part in the
International Summer School called ‘Ba mi jo’, where he gave a
lecture demonstration on the Bàtá and Dùndún dances of the Yoruba
people in Nigeria.
The Ojuade performing troupe has a style of presentation that is
flexible and variable. On account of its wide experience of joint
performances with other performing groups, it is quite at home
wherever it is placed in the programme of events. For example, we
have already made reference to the prestigious outing that the group
had in 1980, when the Oba Okunade Sijuwade was crowned the king
of Ile-Ife. On that occasion the Ojuade performing troupe had the
honour of being the first to perform to usher in the ruler from the
inner chambers of the palace to Enuwa square to receive the staff of
office from the former Executive Governor of Oyo State, Chief Bola
Ige.
However, at the Progressive Governors’ performance in Enugu
(mentioned above) the group was placed fourth in the order of
performance. It is also not always the full complement of the Ojuade
performing troupe that is called upon to perform in such joint
performances. The organizers may require the group to supply a few
drummers and dancers to join other artistes for a special
performance.
Whenever the troupe performs as the sole or major performer at
any event, it adopts a regular style of presentation. The Àrà-bí-n-tí-
nko dance is always the first item on the programme. This item
features the youngest members of the Bàtá troupe. The lead drummer
ushers in these young men with the Àrà-bí-n-tí-nko drum beat. They
enter in a single file demonstrating various patterns of Bàtá
movements. They go into a frontal formation, i.e. a single row facing
the audience, after which the lead drummer signals the beginning of
the solo items. The dancers who are trained to listen for signals are
ready. So the lead drummer now commences to call forth the dancers
one after the other to perform their various solos. The solos of either
the Ìjà-fáfá-ti-fáfá style or the Telá-telá-tìjàlá-telá-tìjàlá are signalled
on the drums and the dancer who specializes in that particular form
comes out to perform. There can be between two to four Ìjà-fáfá-ti-
fáfá dancers coming out successively to perform, depending on how
long the drummer wants the Ìjà-fáfá-ti-fáfá performance to go on.
404 JELEEL O. OJUADE

When it pleases him, he can stop the Ìjà-fáfá-ti-fáfá dancers and call
out the next one telá-telá-tìjàlá-telá-tìjàlá. There is no fixed time and
there is no fixed order. He is completely at liberty to invite whichever
dancer he wants on stage. But he controls every moment of their
performance. It is the total of the Ìjà-fáfá-ti-fáfá and telá-telá-tìjàlá
dances that make up the Àrà-bí-n-tí-nko.
At the end of this performance the lead drummer signals the exit
of the Àrà-bí-n-tí-nko dancers, who move to a corner of the stage to
let in the main Bàtá dancers – the adults. They are ushered in with
more vigorous dance beats than those of the Àrà-bí-n-tí-nko dance.
Once on stage the Àrà-bí-n-tí-nko dancers team up with the principal
Bàtá dancers for a joint dance, which is brought to a climax, after
which the group salutes the audience either by prostrating themselves
in the Yoruba fashion or giving a military salute. Then the lead
drummer signals the dancers to move backstage. At this point the
lead drummer, as he had previously done with the Àrà-bí-n-tí-nko
dancers, calls forth the principal Bàtá solo dancers for their various
individual performances, in which the leader of the troupe performs
last. The principal dancers perform essentially the same item with
only the difference that their performance is more detailed and
professional. In other words, it is a more skilled, polished and
professional version of the Àrà-bí-n-tí-nko dancers that is exhibited.
When the principal dancers have all performed their solos, the
Àrà-bí-n-tí-nko now team up with them for a final dance. This
signals the end of the performance. Again they salute the audience as
they exit, usually accompanied with tumultuous applause. In all, a
performance can take between 20-30 minutes, as the leader Alhaji
Fatai Ojuade does not like longer performances. This is not to say
that there are not occasions when the whole array of Bàtá dance
forms, such as Gbamu, Elekoto, Elésèé etc., are performed, but they
are rare.

CONCLUSION
This chapter has looked at the performance of Yoruba dances in the
diaspora. It has emphasized that culture transcends the different
facets of life in Nigeria.
The findings have raised a series of challenges. First, several of
these dances dominate the global scene in application, serving as
experiments in our dance laboratories. Some of the dance forms are
often uprooted from their original environment for the enjoyment of
the people of other locations. Secondly, the dance performances
 AFRICAN DANCE IN DIASPORA 405

create room for the cross-cultural propagation of culture to the

diaspora and vice versa. The dances are in a state of transition. At the
same time the exported dances encourage scrutiny and are open to
the discourses of scholarship. Thus the convergence of the national
and global dances is responsible for the changes in forms, patterns,
and styles, as well as approaches to analysis and criticism. But the
question is whether one will be able to ‘preserve’ the dances in their
original less form without changes. This is because the life of the
people changes too (i.e. the Yoruba people of Nigeria) and hence
there is a tendency for the dances to change.
It is important for the recognition of an expert dancer in the area
of Dùndún and Bàtá that such a person must be able to decode the
drum signals efficiently. Because of the diasporic influence from
local to global, there is now a growing dynamic between the global
and local dance performances. In view of this ever-changing
tradition, it will be important to properly document the specific
dances of the culture.

REFERENCES
Adekola, O. 1995. Osogbo and the Growth of Yoruba Theatre. In Adepegba,
C.O. (Ed.) Osogbo: Model of Growing African Towns. Ibadan: Institute
of African Studies.
Adepegba, C.O. 2001. Split Identity and the Attendant Perspective Tangle in
Post-Colonial African Art forms. In Dele Layiwola (Ed.) Understanding
Post-Colonial Identities: Ireland, Africa and the Pacific. Institute of
African Studies, University of Ibadan, Ibadan: Sefer Books Ltd.
Ajayi, F. 1998. Yoruba Dance: The Semiotic of Movement and Body
Attitude in a Nigerian Culture. Trenton: Africa World Press.
Ayankunle, Alhaji Lamidi. 2003 An interview with the author on Bàtá
dance and forms.
Ayanlade, Ayankunle. 2003. An interview with the author on Bàtá
performance.
Barber, K. and Ogundijo, B. (Eds.) 1994. Yoruba Popular Theatre: Three
Plays by the Oyin Adejobi Company. Atlanta, Georgia: African Studies
Association Press.
Du Bois, W.E.B. 1970. The Negro. London: Oxford University Press.
Eagleton, T. 2000. The Idea of Culture. London: Blackwell.
Harper, P. 1970. A Festival of Nigerian Dances. African Arts, 3(2): 48-53.
406 JELEEL O. OJUADE

Herskovits, M.J. 1990. The Myth of the Negro Past. Boston: Beacon Press.
Layiwola, D. 1989. Dance and Society in Mutual Interpretation: The Case of
Nigeria. ODU, A Journal of West African Studies, New Series No. 35:
95-115.
Nketia, J.H.K. 1975. The Music of Africa. London, Victor Gollancz Ltd.
________. Fela Sowande’s World of Music. In M.A. Omibiyi-Obidike (Ed.)
African Art Music in Nigeria, 1-15. Ibadan: Stirling-Horden Publishers.
Ojuade, Alhaji Fatai. 2006. An interview with the author on Bàtá and
Dùndún dances.
Royce, A.P. 1977. The Anthropology of Dance. Bloomington: Indiana
University Press.
Smith, E.M. 1962. Music in West Africa. Unpublished EdD dissertation,
Columbia University.
Woodson, C.G. 1968. The African Background Outlined. New York: Negro
University Press.
CHAPTER 17

CELEBRATION AS AESTHETIC DEVICE IN

CONTEMPORARY NIGERIAN DANCE
PRODUCTIONS: HUBERT OGUNDE’S DESTINY AS
EXAMPLE

CHRIS UGOLO

INTRODUCTION: A BRIEF HISTORICAL LOOK AT

NIGERIAN DANCE AS TRADITIONAL FORM OF
CULTURAL EXPRESSION
Nigeria boasts a wide variety of forms and styles of traditional
dances across the length and breadth of the country. This is a result of
a strong traditional mode of dance production that dates back to the
pre-colonial era. This production style, which at present can be
termed “choreography”, especially in its contemporary usage, is
exemplified in the festivals and ritual ceremonies amongst the
various ethnic groups in Nigeria.
In the traditional dance forms, the chief priests and kings
performed the role of choreographer, but the product of their works
(dance) was not credited to them because the dance was regarded as
the property of the people. This is different from a modern context,
where the choreographer is fully acknowledged and given much
prominence as director of a particular work.
Also, the approach was collaborative and integrated all of the art
forms. Here the musicians, dancers, costumiers, maskers, chiefs and
kings all worked together with the priests or king to produce what is
generally acceptable to the people – hence, it becomes the people’s
property. Although collaboration as a production device has its place
in contemporary theatre, the approach is different. Each artiste stands
to be recognized in his or her own right and is therefore
acknowledged in that way.
The evolution of dance as an art form in Nigeria has deep roots in
the traditional festivals across the country, which reveal the different
408 CHRIS UGOLO

contexts in which they are enacted. The contexts, purposes or

functions of these festivals embody the style in which the dances are
performed; examples include ceremonial, ritual, social, occupational
and royalty dances.
Some of the festivals in Nigeria through which we find these
dance styles and forms include the Sango, Yemoja and Egungun
festivals of the Yoruba people; the Sharo festival of the Fulanis; the
Rawan Sarauta festival in Sokoto; Ngarda festival in Gombe, Ijele
and Ekpe festivals of the Igbo people, Ekine festival of the Kalabaris;
and the Igue festival of the Benins, to mention just a few. A major
feature of these festivals and dances is the use of masks
(masquerades), elaborate costumes and make-up, songs, music and
dances (movement) as important vehicles of communication.
It should be noted that the dance of a people or choreographer is
reflective of the socio-cultural, intellectual and artistic
preoccupations of the people and choreographer at a given time and
period. It may also be a reflection of the vision, ideals and goals of
the society and choreographer in futuristic terms.
Traditionally, festivals are an aesthetic channel of
communication in which the whole village set-up constitutes the
performance arena. The stage may at times shift from the village
square to a shrine and then to a riverside. The whole community may
constitute the audience and during performance it is very difficult to
distinguish between the performers/dancers and audience. Examples
of this abound throughout the length and breadth of Nigeria. Thus the
festival is a meaningful event in the lives of the people and, during
the ceremonies, the gods are said to be present either as unseen
guests, observers or performers (masquerades). Traditional priests
and priestesses sometimes serve as choreographers and dance
composers.
The concept of collaboration is well established in the creation of
dance and other art forms, especially since the African conception of
arts is total and integrative (that is, they bring together the art forms
in performance and celebration). It should be noted that, as may be
expected, the dance so created reflects the cultural values and
aesthetic sensibilities of the people and society.

POST-COLONIAL DANCE IN NIGERIA: A NEW DIRECTION

Dance development in Nigeria moved from a time of performance on
the traditional festival theatre stage to an era where cultural groups
sprang up across the country immediately after independence in
 CELEBRATION IN CONTEMPORARY NIGERIAN DANCE 409

1960. This was evidently to promote the arts and culture of the
diverse ethnic groups in Nigeria. The idea was to establish a national
cultural identity for the Nigerian nation state to counter the effects of
Western culture. This era can be referred to as a period of cultural
renaissance in Nigeria. This form was promoted by government
organs responsible for culture such as the National Council for Arts
and Culture through an annual festival of Arts and Culture. It was
during this period that the Ogunde theatre flourished.
As Peggy Harper (1967: 221) rightly observed, “Arts festivals
which have been held annually in the former regions of Nigeria have
proved to be important catalytic elements in the movement of dancers
and musicians away from their home areas into the sphere of
entertainment and modern theatre”.
Another phase in Nigerian dance development, which I have
referred to as the modern dance theatre phase, is that in which the
cultural groups metamorphosed into professional dance theatre
companies. Here the choreographers and dancers tried to make a
living out of the profession. This phase had its roots in – and became
prominent in – the western parts of Nigeria, especially with the
Alarinjo theatre groups.
The western part of Nigeria, where the Yorubas tend to live,
received a Western education much earlier than other parts.
Consequently their traditional theatre practices were affected much
faster. The Alarinjo performances, although traditional in their
origins, became focused on providing entertainment. It was this form,
of which Ogunde was a pioneer, that moved the traditional forms
towards modern theatre.
The canon for the aesthetics of contemporary Nigerian dance
theatre was principally based on the realities of the modern Nigerian
nation state, which in effect are the realities of a diverse cultural
nation with Western and Arab influences. Therefore, what can be
considered as contemporary Nigerian dance is actually a blend of
social realities that span the pre-colonial, the colonial and the
modern. Ogunde was the one who brought together different
Nigerian traditional dances from the different cultures to invent a
tradition that reflects national identity.

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES ON HUBERT OGUNDE

Chief Hubert Ogunde was born on 16 July 1916 at Ososa, near Ijebu-
Ode in the present-day Ogun State of Nigeria. He was born into the
family of Pastor Jeremiah Dehinbo Ogunde and Mrs Eunice
410 CHRIS UGOLO

Owatusan Ogunde. His own mother was a princess of an Odogbolu

royal family and his maternal grandfather was an Ifa priest and
herbalist. Thus his parentage, which had both a Christian and an
African traditional religious background, was to have a lot of
influence on his upbringing.
Hubert Ogunde was said to have grown up in the precincts of his
grandfather’s shrine and was said to have been initiated into the Ifa
cult, where he learnt at an early age the rich secret rites, chants,
poetry and dances which prepared him for the task of cultural
propagation. From 1924-1928 he apprenticed himself to the
Daramola Atete and Alarinjo Travelling Groups and had occasional
association with the traditional Egungun Alarinjo and Ekun Oko
theatre as dancer and drummer.
Ogunde’s early contact with his culture through the cults and
ritual performances, his apprenticeship with Alarinjo Travelling
Theatres, and his experiences as teacher and church organist,
combined with the discipline of the police force, were more than
sufficient preparation for the hazardous life of the theatre. In 1945 he
founded his first theatre group, which he called the African Music
Research Part (AMRP); one of the aims of the group was to “go
deeply into African Music and Dance so as to improve upon what
had been a source of joy and amusement to our forefathers in the
past” (Clark, 1980: 10).
To strengthen his professional background, Ogunde travelled to
Britain with his wife Adesuwa in the summer of 1947 for a dance
course. After the course he had learnt the waltz and tap dances, and
was beginning to find a bridge between the Yoruba Epa dance and
tap dance, and also the waltz and Batakoto dance, which was an
attempt at syncretisation of the forms. He introduced tap, rumba and
waltz into his operas, while at the same time making use of
traditional movement styles – an experiment at eclecticism.
There is no way one can discuss the work of Hubert Ogunde
without delving into his life as a nationalist. This is because it would
seem that the spirit of nationalism was behind all that he did,
especially in his attempt to weld the different cultures of Nigeria in
order to create not only a national culture but promote a united
Nigerian state. He was to bring together experts from different
cultures in Nigeria and Ghana to teach members of his dance group
and enrich his repertoire.
He worked at different levels with the Nigerian government,
representing Nigeria in many cultural festivals. In 1986 the Federal
 CELEBRATION IN CONTEMPORARY NIGERIAN DANCE 411

Government of Nigeria invited him to set up the National Troupe of

Nigeria, a task he carried out with zeal and dedication as he regarded
it as a national assignment. Hubert Ogunde died on 4 April 1990 at
the Cromwell Hospital in London, having devoted forty-six years of
active service to the Nigerian theatre stage.

DESTINY (1986) AS EXAMPLE OF CELEBRATION AS

AESTHETIC DEVICE
Destiny (1986) marked the peak of Hubert Ogunde’s experimentation
with diverse materials from different cultures in Nigeria. The
production style also became a template for upcoming
choreographers as it employed many choreographic devices such as
eclecticism, syncretism and the aesthetics of celebration and
spectacle to achieve his goal of forging a national dance culture.
Destiny was first produced in 1970 by the Ogunde Theatre
Company with the title Ayanmo as a drama production in the
characteristic Alarinjo theatre form, making use of songs, dances,
mime and dialogue (total theatre), which is typical of African festival
theatre forms. It was in 1986, when the Federal Government
contacted him to raise a troupe for the Commonwealth Festival of
Arts, that he reworked it into a full-scale dance theatre production. It
was premiered at the National Theatre, Lagos and watched by the
then President, General Ibrahim Babaginda and the Federal
Executive Council.
The 1986 production of Destiny had a cast of thirty-two dancers
and a crew of twenty-three. The dancers included Queen Tegbiku,
Sabath Essien, Aniefong Akpong, Eme Martins, Riskat Ogunde,
Oludayo Ogunde, Janet Ogunde, Iyabo Ogunde, Tajudeen
Gbadamosi, Daniel Paiko, Oku Ita and Ademola Ogunde. Many of
them currently have their own dance troupes and are carrying on with
the Ogunde tradition.
Destiny, as the title suggests, is anchored in the Yoruba and
widespread African belief in predestination. This concept implies that
the events in a man’s life are determined before birth. It is a
production that employs the music, dance, mime and masquerade
genres of the performance arts. It also uses the characteristic Alarinjo
theatre techniques, including acrobatic displays and musical
interludes.
The dance production deals with a woman, Omowumi, who
received her destiny, which was originally good, but on her way
through the gates of heaven, she is convinced by witches to change
412 CHRIS UGOLO

her destiny so that she will be blessed with hundreds of children that
will die (abiku) instead of the two permanent children that she
originally chose.
The work opens characteristically in a celebratory atmosphere
with a puberty initiation ceremony, which dovetails into two male
and female dancers trying to outdo one another in a supposed dance
competition. This is immediately followed by the entrance of the god
Obatala and his worshippers in a ritual ceremonial dance. After this,
Omowumi comes in to receive her destiny from Ajala, who is
represented by a wood-carved head image supported by two open
palms lowered on stage. Ajala is a sculptor divinity – a moulder of
human beings – of the Yoruba people. The two ceremonial dances
and the exciting competition of the male and female dancers at the
onset immediately set the tone for the aesthetic device of celebration
to be put in motion.
The sequence is followed by two fast sequences of dances, the
fisherman’s ceremonial dance (Ijo-Eleja), one of Ogunde’s favourite
dances, and an exhibition of the talking dexterity of the with dùndún
(bàtá) drums by Ogunde’s chief drummer, Elijah Aworinde. There is
then a child-naming ceremony of Omowumi’s new baby. The
emphasis here is also celebratory in terms of atmosphere, which is re-
emphasized by the talking drum, which in the Yoruba context is also
an instrument used principally during ceremonies.
This is Omowumi’s eighth baby, but none has survived. The
child dies during the naming ceremony rituals. This tragic incident is
climaxed by the Asian Ubo-Ikpa maiden’s dance of the Ibibio people
of the Akwa Ibom state of Nigeria. This is also a ceremonial dance. It
must be pointed out that in Africa ceremonies are used for
celebrations that may be joyous or sad depending on the event.
The next four sequences are what one may regard as diversions
from the main story line. This is a major feature in Ogunde’s
production style. We see the Sango festival (a ritual ceremonial
dance of the Yoruba people), followed by popular Yoruba songs
composed by Ogunde. Then there is a traditional bachelor’s eve
ceremony in which there is a display of flutes, bugles and the
pageantry of Northern Nigeria. It is a festive scene and a celebration
of Nigerian culture. The atmosphere here is further heightened to
reinforce the celebratory aesthetic that Ogunde has put in motion.
After this sequence Osetura (Ifa Priest), symbolizing the force of
good, comes in to celebrate his annual divination festival, while
Omowumi, who had earlier had her destiny changed by the forces of
 CELEBRATION IN CONTEMPORARY NIGERIAN DANCE 413

evil, finds her way to the ceremony. She is cleansed and her original
head restored and starts a new life. Here also, as in the other
sequences, the festivity becomes a communication channel for
highlighting the aesthetics of celebration.
This is followed by three fast sequences of divertissement in
which another maidens’ ceremonial dance (Jurhi), this time of the
Urhobo people of the Delta state, is performed. The movements are
subtle and restrained with occasional thrust of the arms, gentle steps
and waist-wriggling movements.
The kwag-hir masquerade performance from the Tiv culture in
Benue state, a popular form of puppet theatre in Nigeria which is
strictly for entertainment, is introduced. The kwag-hir theatre makes
use of many themes and topics that derive from the political,
religious and social life of the people. However, this time it takes the
form of a ritual dance of the spirits of the departed ancestors, who
come to bring blessings of fertility, wealth, long life and happiness to
the people. This is another typical traditional performance re-enacted
in the Ogunde performance aesthetic. It is entertainment driven and
the aim is to bring joy, which to large extent reinforces and becomes
a device for celebration.
Destiny ends with the Agbekor warrior’s dance of the Ewe
people in Ghana, followed by a dance of joy and celebration bidding
all farewell. In this work there is deliberate attempt at highlighting
the spectacular. The glamorous costumes, fast movements, acrobatic
and masquerade displays, all help to give an exhilarating touch to the
production, apart from the air of celebration, merriment and festivity
that we find all through the performance. Thus the glamorous,
spectacular, fast movements, the festivity and the joyous atmosphere
become the vehicles through which Hubert Ogunde channels the
aesthetic device of celebration that makes his performances so
entertaining.
Critics have described Destiny in different ways: Muyiwa
Kayode calls it a “National journey through life” (1990: 13), while
Dimgba Igwe says “It is rooted in the African belief in pre-
destination” (1986: 12). Samuel Odamo described the performance as
being commensurate with the much reputed Efik dish “Edikanikon”,
with assorted quality ingredients. He went further to describe it as
“all Nigeria coming together in laughter and merriment” (1986:18),
all suggesting the celebratory nature and atmosphere of the
performance.
414 CHRIS UGOLO

THE CELEBRATION/ENTERTAINMENT APPROACH TO

THE TREATMENT OF SUBJECT MATTER
It must be pointed out that right from the beginning the primary
motivation for Ogunde’s dance theatre has been entertainment, and
that this is predicated on the aesthetics of celebration and festivity,
with the purpose to create the magical and spectacular effects that are
so pervasive in his dances, as we find in the egungun masquerade
performances, representing the spirit of the ancestors.
The coming out of egungun amongst the Yoruba is a time of
festivity and celebration; a time of the apprehension of the forces of
evil and of engendering a deep belief in divine guidance and
protection (Babayemi, 1980). Thus from the very opening of his
works, the mood of celebration and festivity is created. We find this
in Oh-Ogunde! (1969), Nigeria (1977) and Destiny (1986). In
Destiny the opening number, the Batakoto dance, is a ceremonial
initiation dance. Apart from the air of celebration, the vigorous dance
steps and movements help to create the atmosphere of festivity and
celebration. It is important to note that this is the aesthetic device in
which the totality of the production is anchored.
The Obatala ritual dance that follows is a ceremonial worship
dance of devotees, which is punctuated by the Ijo-Eleja dance. Then
Ogunde and his chief drummer entertain the audience with the bàtá
drum. This is followed by a child-naming ceremonial dance; the
Asian Ubo Ikpa maidens dance to interpret the event. Then the Sango
initiation dance is performed, followed by a sequence of songs by
Hubert Ogunde which is strictly for entertainment. So celebration
with the intention to entertain becomes the aesthetic device which he
employs to present his subject matter and themes.
Other dances that follow are the Osetura festival dance, the
Eku’gbokpe dance of the mermaids, the kwag-hir ritual dance and the
Agbekor warriors dance. These are all dances of celebration. The
grand finale is a celebration with drums, tom toms and flutes as
dancers dance in joy and happiness to celebrate the triumph of good
over evil.
So, the spirit of celebration and festivity pervades the whole
performance. Music, songs, narration, rituals, masquerade display,
mime and spectacle cover a whole range of topics from love, cultural
nationalism, marriage, the harvest, initiation, patriotism, national
unity, predestination and reincarnation to the clash between the
forces of good and evil. This fusion therefore becomes a
choreographic device for dealing with issues that may seem to be
 CELEBRATION IN CONTEMPORARY NIGERIAN DANCE 415

trivial, but metaphorically have political undertones and convey a

sense of values for a new Nigerian nation.
We find a series of celebratory moments tied together through
mimetic movements, songs and drumming. It is through mime and
pantomime that the characters are revealed in outline. They look
surrealistic, flat and as if they lack psychological depth. But these
moments underscore the aesthetic device of celebration that is set in
motion and engages the audience.
It is in the celebratory dances that certain characters are revealed,
though the ways that they appear and disappear in different contexts
and circumstances make it impossible for one to link them up with
the main plot. Sometimes they seem to have no relevance and so do
not in any way enhance the plot. They may also appear and disappear
within a sequence depending on the type of dance being exhibited.
They come and go with the mass of people celebrating as a
community experiencing their joy, grief, pain and victories in
oneness of purpose.
This underscores the African belief that at no time in the life of a
person is he or she left alone to carry a burden alone. The whole
community usually provides support. This is true of the initiation,
marriage, birth, child-naming, ritual, adult and funeral dances, in
which the whole community participates to share the emotions that
go with the events.
Also, the issues are embodied in myths, legends, allegories,
chants and songs, which are interpreted in ritual signs and symbols to
further mystify and conceal the subject matter. So what comes to the
fore is the festive and celebratory mood and atmosphere. This is what
we find in the treatment of subject matter in Ogunde’s choreography.
The overriding spirit is one of celebration, even in the treatment of
very serious issues or themes. All this is deliberately done to enhance
the aesthetics of celebration.
Thus celebration, festivity, spectacle and the need to entertain
become the principal considerations in Ogunde’s approach to the
treatment of his subject matter. This is the key to his success and
what has endeared him to Nigerian theatre audiences.

CONCLUSION
In looking at celebration as an aesthetic device in contemporary
Nigerian dance theatre and productions, we have attempted to build
our argument on the fact that traditionally African festival
performances and other forms of African traditional performances, be
416 CHRIS UGOLO

they ritual, royal occasions, social entertainment or ceremonial, have

the basic ingredient of celebration. This is because of a traditional
love of celebration in Africa, expressed in the many ceremonies that
are enacted in everyday life, even in contemporary African societies.
This concept has evidently also found expression in modern artistic
expressions and creative work in theatre and dance.
Hubert Ogunde, one of Nigeria’s foremost choreographers, has
found this aesthetic device a necessary ingredient in his creations. In
an attempt to create a contemporary national dance culture in
multicultural Nigeria, he has brought this device into his
choreographic practice and used it as a tool for national integration.
Being a patriot and lover of African culture, he has employed the
device to counter the overriding influence of Western culture and to
create something that is truly authentic to his African environment.
Looking at Destiny (1986), which stands as the epitome of his
dance works, this aesthetic device of celebration flows through the
series of joyous performances that he creates through movement,
festivity, ceremonies, costume, masquerades and spectacle. This
device is consciously used to create a typically African dance theatre,
it is important for a wider global audience to note that this
celebratory aesthetic device is what fundamentally engineers
Ogunde’s entertainment-driven theatre. It is a device that can be
adopted not only by contemporary Nigerian choreographers and
directors, but also by other African and non-African cultures, who
may find it a useful tool for their creative endeavours. Young and
contemporary Nigerian choreographers have embraced it, especially
those who have worked closely with Ogunde. This is a tradition that I
believe will continue well into the twenty-first century and beyond.

REFERENCES
Adelugba, Adedapo. 1964. Nationalism and the Awakening National
Theatre of Nigeria. Unpublished Dissertation, University of California,
Los Angeles (UCLA).
Babayemi, S.O. 1980. Egungun among the Yoruba. Ibadan: Oyo State
Council for Arts and Culture.
Clark, Ebun. 1980. Hubert Ogunde: The Making of Nigerian Theatre. 2nd
Impression. London: Oxford University Press.
Harper, Peggy. 1967. Dance in a changing society. African Arts 1, 10(13):
24-36.
 CELEBRATION IN CONTEMPORARY NIGERIAN DANCE 417

Igwe, Dimgba. 1986. Ogunde and the National Troupe, Sunday Concord, 10
August: 11-13.
Kayode, Muyiwa. 1990. Life’s Premiere in Dirge, The Guardian, 6h May, p.
13.
Odamo, Samuel. 1986. Cultural Troupe Edinburgh Missed, Daily Times, 6
August, p. 8.
Nwabuoku, Emeka. 1984. Music and Archaeology in Nigerian Education
and Culture: An Integrated Perspective. Education and Development.
Journal of Nig. Educ. Research Council. 4(1&2): 44.
CHAPTER 18

‘PIECING TOGETHER A GIRLHOOD’: USING THE

‘GIRLFRIEND AESTHETIC’ AS A PRACTICAL
METHODOLOGY IN THE MAKING AND
PERFORMANCE OF KATUNTU (…AND YOU TOO)
ALUDE MAHALI

INTRODUCTION
Katuntu emerged from a Master’s thesis enquiry related to the study
of playing memory in black girlhood, particularly the obvious under-
representation of black African girlhood as a topic in the literary and
performing arts. This site-specific work, both in the making and the
performance, attempts to ‘piece together a girlhood’ by means of
regenerating sites of memory using the girlfriend aesthetic as a
catalyst for coping with atopia.1 Kevin Quashie develops the concept
of the ‘girlfriend aesthetic’ in his book Black Women, Identity and
Cultural Theory: (un)becoming the subject (2004: 16). I have found
the concept useful both as a theoretical tool and as a methodology for
creating, performing and representing shared experience and a shared
idea of selfhood amongst black African girls. The girlfriend aesthetic
emerges from a discourse of otherness in which some black women
scholars represent selfhood as the dynamic relationship between one
woman and her other, her girlfriend (16). This girlfriend aesthetic
was a key device from Katuntu’s inception to its realization and will
be unpacked in more detail below. Harnessing the power of the
girlfriend aesthetic, this article attempts to look at the growing need
to play memory as black African women in this context. The article
also explores a workable methodology catalyzed by the girlfriend
aesthetic in the creation and performance of Katuntu with
observations on the development of embodied action in both
discussion and practical execution.
A truthful account of Katuntu requires that I engage with the
concept of playing memory, particularly through narratives of loss,
420 ALUDE MAHALI

predominantly loss of language, place and family, brought on by

disrupted or uprooted childhood. Playing memory suggests, in the
first instance, an actual active playing of personal recollection and
remembrance that attempts to stage that which has passed but exists
in and out of my mind, albeit in pieces. I view the former as a
function of the past and the latter as a operating in the present. What
this means is that the “in” represents a time gone by, a time which is
previous to the present and the “out” represents the “now” or the
present. Playing memory, in the second instance, is an exploration of
how one might go about re-membering in order to recall oneself into
being, that is, recapturing a lost time, lost place and lost childhood in
order to put oneself together. Thus piecing together a girlhood
examines how one can go about “doing memory” as a way of
“articulating that which is unspeakable” and how one might use
“imaginative power to locate, realize and play an unconscious
connection to the past” (Parker, 2001: 2). There is something
disquieting about re-visiting something which has already past that
holds both painful and sentimental memories. The question then
becomes “Why are you looking back?” The chief reason why I am
interested in this notion of nostalgic longing and recall is because of
my own need to fill the gaps of my own fragmented memory. It is a
yearning to bring to remembrance that which has been lost or
forgotten to me, culturally, personally, historically, linguistically and
familialy, and the need to search for a theatrical methodology that
might assist me in coming to terms with this irretrievable loss. I
wanted to look to the past in order to function in the present.
Memory is not fixed or definite; therefore, I was not looking back in
order to play memory as a way of reifying it or with a certainty that
the gaps can ever be filled at all, but rather my exploration was
concerned with the spaces of possibility found in these gaps. Thus
the gaps come to represent spaces of dramatic discovery and this is
how Katuntu was created. During the process of devising Katuntu re-
visiting site required that the searcher take hold of whatever remnants
and shards of memories she has of site and use theatrical discourse to
return to the places of old in order to exist within and understand the
present site in which she finds herself. This site is language, is
homeland, is family – this site is an indelible marker of who she is,
but more importantly, who this nostalgic searcher could have been.
I make constant reference in what follows to Tsitsi
Dangarembga’s Nervous Conditions (1988), Toni Morrison’s
Beloved (1997) and Gcina Mhlope’s Have you seen Zandile? (1988).
 ‘PIECING TOGETHER A GIRLHOOD’ 421

These textual frameworks were seminal to the production process

because they are essentially narratives of loss and, moreover, the
extent of this loss is experienced in different and yet equally potent
ways by the protagonists. The protagonists in these texts are also
dealing with the loss of place, language, family and memory, but the
way that this loss affects them is different from case to case and in
some cases loss becomes corporealized. The subjects of these texts
are black girls and, more importantly, what is explored in each of
these texts are the relationships between black girls/women.
Consequently, a large part of ‘piecing together a girlhood’ involves
engaging with what Quashie (2004) calls the girlfriend aesthetic.
Quashie’s argument is this: a black girl’s/woman’s idea of self
suggests a volatility occurring via two levels of identification
between self and other, that is, identification with and identification
as2 your girlfriend ‘other’.

The constant movement between with (in which a subject materializes

comparatively) and as (in which the subject materializes
metonymically) also represents (dis)identification, because the subject
is always being dislodged/dislodging herself from a settled identity with
her other (Quashie, 2004: 16).

Drawing on this phenomenon, it became almost inevitable for me to

call upon long-time friend and fellow performer, Injairu Kulundu, to
assist me in ‘piecing together a girlhood’ as a comparative and
metonymical subject.

BEGINNINGS
This quest towards the creation of Katuntu was exploratory by
nature; there were no fixed answers. I began from what was familiar
to me: an exploration of my disjointed memory in connection with
black girlhood. Beloved (1997), Have You Seen Zandile? (1988) and
Nervous Conditions (1988) feature as a background, but my insertion
of ‘self’ and thus black girlhood was autobiographical. However, I
found the exclusion of another voice and representative of black
girlhood to be increasingly problematic, if I were to operate under the
rubric of ‘black girlhood’, which implies a universal inclusion. This
is why these texts were seminal to the production process and also
why Katuntu could never have been an individual undertaking. Upon
researching this terrain, I became gradually more frustrated with the
lack of documentation concerning black girls’ experience of
girlhood, as though the subject were unworthy of a separate analysis.
422 ALUDE MAHALI

We cannot assume that a white girl’s experience of girlhood is the

same as that of a black girl. A black girl’s experience of girlhood
would surely differ from that of a white girl and the effects on
memories of the experience of girlhood vary culturally, historically,
economically and linguistically. It is this lack of distinctive
representation and a rejection from history that prompted theorist and
feminist cultural critic bell hooks, to write her memoir Bone Black:
memories of girlhood (1996), which traces her experience of black
girlhood. hooks writes from the premise that in the 1990s feminism
began taking great interest in studying girlhood but most of its
conclusions were based on the experience of white girlhood
(Shockley, 1997: 552). She does not offer her story to place herself
as the representative for black girlhood, because she is aware that
black girls’ experiences are diverse and vary according to class,
geographical location and other factors (ibid.). Rather, she writes to
document some of these possibly shared experiences. Similarly, my
exploration is not meant to serve as a model of all black African
girls’ memories of the experience of girlhood. It is rather, an attempt
to locate, trace and play an understanding of the effects and remains
of memory on myself as a black South African female in the hope
that it may resonate with a shared memory of the experience of black
girlhood.
In South Africa race has a significant effect on a black girl’s
psyche, even though socio-economic and class-related factors also
surface as considerable features of self-definition (Gaganakis, 1997:
364). Fundamental everyday discourse is interceded through the lived
experience of family, neighbourhood and education. Black South
African girls negotiate between several identities and realities – local,
national, racial, class, gendered. All identities are active in one way
or another, and so memory and certainly one’s experience of
selfhood within childhood would differ under these circumstances.
As a result, black South African girls’ identities emerge as fluid and
adaptive, developing over time (Gaganakis, 1997: 364). In Katuntu
we see how these shifting identities occur. This is black girlhood; we
are multiple bits working against loaded historical signifiers,
omnipresent influences, as well as each other, whilst furiously
battling to piece together and reconstruct a composite whole. This is
a significant feature in Katuntu, this oscillation between self and
other and the mirroring, merging and splitting of incomplete
identities working as a dichotomous push and pull. This emphasizes
the multifaceted nature of the girlfriend aesthetic relationship which
 ‘PIECING TOGETHER A GIRLHOOD’ 423

emerges as dynamic, particularly because the “boundaries of self and

other, metaphorically but also literally, are disrupted, severed,
transcended causing the self and her girlfriend to become adjoining
and sometimes indistinguishable subjects” (Quashie, 2004: 16). This
is what I had intended to happen in my collaboration with Injairu
Kulundu, but also what we witnessed was happening organically.
There was a reliance on each other, on the girlfriend ‘other’, which is
indicative of just how important the girlfriend aesthetic is in the
construction of a sense of self. What the girlfriend aesthetic does is to
offer a dialectic between self and other; we see this reified in Katuntu
through the mirror which is not only used as an object, but also as an
action that indicates exactly what the girlfriend aesthetic proposes.
Here the girlfriend aesthetic offers a methodology for re-membering
by providing a reflective surface; you see in the experience of the
girlfriend other something that triggers or incites your own memory
and aids you in working towards completion. Not only does the
mirror provide you with your own reflection and in turn that of your
girlfriend ‘other’, but it also provides a surface through which the
past is revealed by the ‘other’ figure in Katuntu. It is a portal through
which to gaze in order to see something else (revealed in the pit
section).3 Whether or not this completion is possible is a significant
interrogation after creating and performing the work. Rather than
completion, perhaps what it is a step towards dealing with the
incomplete in the hope of healing, which is, in its own way, some
form of completion.

DOING MEMORY: THE PROCESS OF DEVISING KATUNTU

A question that arose in this quest for a practical methodology is:
how might we begin finding the material to help us play memory? A
helpful starting point is accessing personal, cultural, familial and
historical remains of memory and pairing those remains with tactile
objects and sensory stimulus (certain people, songs, smells,
sensations, visual images, letters, journals), which we could then
translate into visual images and this would in turn assist us in the
process of beginning the open-ended course of doing memory.
Because we did not have these historical and personal talismans
always readily available to us, what we found to work as effectively
was a series of writing exercises rooted in our memory of palpable
and sensory stimuli, as well as memory of song as object. An
example of this method of retrieving memory can be seen in the
development of Myer Taub’s production of Lekker Faith in 2003
424 ALUDE MAHALI

Figure 1. Photographer: Mandilakhe Yengo. The mirror seen here as object and
as propeller of action outside the Egyptian Building.

(when he was a Master’s student at the University of Cape Town),

which he said began with memory – memories of stories he heard as
a child. As he began to write them down, he experienced a charge, a
flurry of memories, of people, of smells. And as he began to
formulate the structure the text, he became more alert to his own
memory that was not only being used as a tool to recover fragments
from his past, but could be used as an imaginative instrument in order
to transfer the facts that he could not remember and thus he was able
use childhood memory to play with/in history (Taub, 2004: 39).
Performance mimics memory and thus doing memory extended
to our participation in our autobiography. African American artist
Betye Saar describes her artwork as a 5-step process (an approach
that was useful in our process of creating Katuntu): imprint, search,
collect and gather, recycle, and release. In her attempt to gather and
create works of autobiographical memory, Saar makes use of the
Intensive Journal Method developed by the Jungian psychotherapist,
Ira Progoff, in the 1960s and 1970s (Dallow, 2004: 82). As part of
his research he had his patients keep journals. He trained participants
to keep closely controlled and private journals, with details of any
wishes, thoughts, dreams and memories noted down (ibid.). Progoff’s
rationale for the use of journals was that “when a person is shown
 ‘PIECING TOGETHER A GIRLHOOD’ 425

how to reconnect himself with the contents and the continuity of his
life, the inner thread of movement by which his life has been
unfolding reveals itself to him by itself” (Dallow, 2004: 83).
Progoff’s stream-of-consciousness technique is comparable to Betye
Saar’s approach to creating assemblages of the original objects she
finds attractive. These objects could consist of old photographs,
collectable miniatures, dried flowers, gloves; these personal objects
are interwoven in her work and when combined become
autobiographical symbols. Like diary entries, she collects and
combines fragments of memories together to form a narrative. Only
when she gathers all these fragmented objects and materials in one
space or box for her installations does she feel that they have come
together to form a story (Dallow, 2004: 83). In the light of this,
journaling naturally became an important aspect of our process as a
means through which we could eventually generate material. The
objects we later introduced were endowed with personal meaning
based on written and practical exercises that we did.
The creation of a play-world was imperative in the development
of our practical style of working. According to The Viewpoints Book
(Bogart and Landau, 2005), a play-world is a “set of laws belonging
to your piece and no other” (167); it asks that you carefully consider
the way time operates, the colour palette of your world and gestural
language. Above all, this is a way of discovering the landscape of the
world you have created and asks that you assume nothing and
question everything and invent your own rules in making a unique
play-world. This became a necessity in the creation of the visual
landscape and nostalgic world of Katuntu. As Kulundu and I
developed Katuntu, we found the use of viewpoints to be a vital way
of framing the piece and our style of working. Anne Bogart and Tina
Landau describe viewpoints as a “philosophy translated into a
technique for training performers, building ensemble and creating
movement for the stage” (Bogart and Landau, 2005:7-11). These are
points of awareness that a performer or creator makes use of while
working. The opening section of Katuntu came out of a series of
improvisatory viewpoints exercises. We worked with the physical
viewpoints of time (tempo, duration, kinaesthetic response, and
repetition), space (shape, gesture, architecture, spatial relationship,
topography) and composition.
What also became helpful in the creative process, underscoring
this girlfriend mirroring mentioned earlier, were Augusto Boal’s
mirroring sequence exercises. There are several detailed exercises in
426 ALUDE MAHALI

Figure 2. Photographer: Mandilakhe Yengo.

This opening section was performed at the Egyptian Building on Hiddingh Campus
at the University of Cape Town.

the mirroring sequence and the exercises are designed to help

participants “develop the capacity for observation by means of
‘visual dialogues’ between participants; the simultaneous use of
spoken language is excluded” (Boal, 1992: 129). Boal describes these
exercises as a loving search for one’s self in another. He says part of
the idea of these exercises is that we seek ourselves in others, who
seek themselves in us (Boal, 1992: 134-135). As we appropriated
these various creative methodologies, one thing that stood out as
essential in the development process was engaging with what
Richard Schechner calls “dark play”. Schechner holds that:

Playfulness is a volatile, sometimes dangerously explosive essence,

which cultural institutions seek to bottle or contain in the vials of games
and competition, chance and strength, in the modes of simulation such
as theatre. Play can be everywhere and nowhere, imitate anything, yet
be identified with nothing (Schechner, 2002: 24-25).

Dark play demands that you take risks, as unpredictability is part of

playing’s thrill (Schechner, 2002: 27). Dark play may be done
consciously or unconsciously with the players unaware (at times)
about what is play and what is not. This play is explosive, sometimes
sudden, taking hold of the player, then settling again. It is frenzied,
 ‘PIECING TOGETHER A GIRLHOOD’ 427

sometimes dangerous, a jest, threat or hallucination. It is this very

shift in and out of different states full of discontinuity, interruption
and distraction, both in the process and presentation of Katuntu that
make it apparent that dark play is at work. The point is that dark play
works against order, dissolves frames, breaks its own rules, so that
the playing itself is in danger of being destroyed, but it need not be
explicitly angry or violent (36). Dark play is physically risky and
involves intentional confusion or concealment of the frame (38).
Dark play may continue actions from early childhood, but only
occasionally demands make believe. Dark play plays out alternative
selves.
This kind of play forms the foundation on which Katuntu was
created and play as a methodology was the source of immense
discovery. We take turns with play, at times vacillating between play
and reality. Whether we are mocking one another playfully through
song, engaged in a dance with one another, at once becoming the
exhumed spirit of the alternative other, screaming in agony or
hollering with laughter, or becoming the witnesses of each other’s
purging, “the play frame may be so disturbed or disrupted that the
players themselves are not sure if they are playing or not – their
actions become play retroactively: the events are what they are, but
by telling these events, by reforming them as narratives, they are cast
as play” (Schechner, 2002: 39). The playing is continuous, playing
with a sense of imbalance, constantly twisting, winding,
reconfiguring, transforming and turning on itself. It is a flash of all-
pervading eruptive and disruptive energy (43). This play is creative
and destabilizes action; it is a mood, an attitude, a force. This kind of
play implicates the audience in Katuntu, at times casting them as
witness or voyeur, then implicit participant, sometimes alienating
them completely – what is imperative is that they become a part of
this dark play, that they are physically moving in and out of memory
with us, the performers, where “the realities of fantasy can become
trajectories into the world of demons, illness, and pain” (42). The
audience is required to shift location three times during Katuntu,
creating a sense of discontinuity, disruption and motion that is
necessary not only for the movement of the piece, but also as a
device for reinforcing the sense of discord, disconnectedness and
disorder experienced by the ever-shifting figures. In the third
performance space the audience is confronted with writing on a wall
that speaks to this device:
428 ALUDE MAHALI

Keep walking … the journey does not stop for her, all the time she is
unsettled, unrooted, moved to a new place. She is compelled to move
… sometimes run, I cannot catch up with myself, I cannot take all my
things. I collect what my feet land on … I collect the earth under my
feet. You must move with me.

Landscape is an important word throughout Katuntu mainly because

the piece happens outside. The decision to work in the spaces I chose
was a creative one based on the architecture and structures of the
chosen locations; this makes Katuntu more site-responsive than site-
specific. Performance in each space takes between ten to fifteen
minutes. What is imperative is the milieu of the world we created and
for this reason landscape is an imaginative site. What resonates most
with Katuntu is Lorraine Dowler’s depiction of landscapes as
“reflective scenes of fantasy” in Women Place: Gender and
Landscape (Dowler et al., 2005: 3). It was important to create a sense
of the vastness of the landscape in Katuntu’s play-world. During one
of our writing exercises concerning the landscape of the piece, I
write:

The landscape is a slipping in and out of memory-scape. A withering

thread. A clear and vivid hallucination – blurred vision, blurred faces,
blurred voices – faces stuck in laughter then ripped and torn apart by
pain. It is far … we see far ahead … there is a long way to go, the feet
are always moving in our world. When are we arrested? When do we
linger? What are we searching for? This place is open emptiness. I
sometimes feel as though I am a drop in this landscape, as though I am
the only one here who hears me and my other. Sometimes this
landscape feels like all the places I have lived that have lived in me.
Faces make themselves known in this place-familiar faces, fragmented
faces, appearing in pieces.

Katuntu begins at the Egyptian building on Hiddingh Campus at the

University of Cape Town, where towering white pillars serve as a
backdrop to the action. A white sheet hangs across the pillars and
casts shadows as the figures move in the space, while a single follow
spotlight enhances the play on shadow – creating a sense of presence
and absence, of the figure’s merging and splitting. The figure I play
comes into the space and delivers text read from a book, while the
figure played by Kulundu calls out from the top of a tree opposite the
Egyptian building. After delivering this text, my figure brings a chair,
a table, a tablecloth, silverware and a plate full of red earth into the
space, all the while heeding a call from Kulundu’s figure in the
 ‘PIECING TOGETHER A GIRLHOOD’ 429

distance. There is a feeling of expectation, an anxiety triggered by the

feeling of being confronted with the familiar, a thing, an emotion, a
feeling of the past that has long since been forgotten. As Kulundu’s
figure enters the space, the action spirals into an unstoppable flurry of
memory. The two figures look radically different, mine dressed in all
white, Kulundu’s an otherworldly being in a menacing red and black
ensemble, her face covered in raffia so that you are unable to make
her out and yet there is an undeniable connection between the two
figures. The figure played by me is seemingly alarmed by her own
recollection, both curious and afraid of calling upon her memory; she
is often moved to gut-wrenching, horrific screams at what she sees in
her own memory, to which her other (Kulundu’s figure) responds by
easing her through song or offering comfort in an embrace.
Sometimes the two charge into memory simultaneously, offering a
temporary break from the otherwise jarring, sound-filled vocality and
gestural action. Here the mirror introduced as a device also
precipitates transition to the next site: the tree.

Figure 3. Photographer: Mandilakhe Yengo.

‘Kindred memory spirits’- the ‘other’ and her girlfriend.

The action then continues in the tree. This tree, much like the
girlfriend other, comes to represent a holder of memory, a container
430 ALUDE MAHALI

in which all memories are stored and erupt upon discovery. There is
something magical about the tree; there are yellow light bulbs in it
that illuminate the figures faces in a beautifully dreamy way. There
are all kinds of fabrics and materials draped in and around the tree,
raffia, hessian, rope, wool and various cloths from around Africa. In
the tree hang wind chimes, shoes, bells, buckets, pots, tins and pans,
tens upon tens of white dolls with red fabric accents and various
other objects and talismans. The tree becomes alive with memory,
particularly when the two figures occupy the tree, managing to climb
to the very top. It is a place of childhood games, dreams and
dangerous nightmares. It is also the instance where, after being taken
through the path of her childhood memory by her girlfriend other, my
figure is then left in the most sudden way by her other to navigate on
her own. Suddenly the tree that boasts a host of lost objects (real and
imagined) is bare. My figure can no longer see and suddenly she
finds herself alone and split from her other. In an attempt to find her,
she runs away from the tree and now the audience must follow.
The next scene moves into an alley leading to a small white
building (outside a janitor’s narrow dilapidated old toilet). This space
creates a sense of captivity, of decline, being trapped and unable to
move forward, juxtaposed with a feeling of having travelled far and
for a long time – a literal interpretation of the audiences’ journey and
a metaphoric passing of time for the figures, whereby my figure’s
time is spent searching for her girlfriend other who has yet again
abandoned her. Here we are confronted with a startling image of
Kulundu’s figure hanging upside down over the white toilet wall,
with a long piece of red fabric draping to the floor with the other end
in her mouth: this is an extension of her tongue which she swallows
and spits up.4
My figure finds herself writing down lost memories with
limestone on this extended tongue, in an attempt to articulate her lost,
often fragmented, language and memory. She struggles to reclaim
this language and memory; Kulundu’s figure exhaustingly ensures
that her tongue is always slipping away and is never within her grasp.
This section ends with my figure finally securing Kulundu’s evasive
figure long enough to hoist her on my back in order to lead her to the
next and final performance venue. My figure carries Kulundu’s
figure for some time, eventually to dump her on the ground and leave
her in the same way that she has been abandoned herself. The strain
of this girlfriend relationship becomes too much for her to bear, and
 ‘PIECING TOGETHER A GIRLHOOD’ 431

Figure 4. Photographer: Mandilakhe Yengo.

she can literally no longer carry the weight. She can no longer rely on
her to shoulder the load of her forgotten memory. We move into the
pit, the final performance space, the audience views the action from
above, while the two figures play in the space below, having
descended a flight of stairs. There are many nooks and alcoves in this
space and the figures alternate between being up at the top with the
audience, down below in the pit or hidden in some corner. 5
In this section my figure is really trying to liberate herself from
this girlfriend reliance, because the girlfriend aesthetic is an
‘(un)becoming’, an assembling and dispersion of attachment, a
coming to and a rejection of one’s own. This is the nature of this
relationship as girlfriend subjectivity fluctuates between states of
claim and abjection, of union and hysteria. “In such self-fashioning
the other is an/other, both a ‘me’, a ‘not me’ and a ‘part of me’”
(Quashie, 2004: 40). This performance of coupling with an/other and
oscillating between a position of (dis)identification gives way to a
liminal identity, a subjectivity of substance and corporeality (ibid.).
This is a selfhood that works against the normative creation of ‘self’,
this liminal subjectivity is not specifically a completely attainable
condition; instead, it is a series of uncoverings (Quashie, 2004: 40-
41).
432 ALUDE MAHALI

Figure 5. Photographer: Mandilakhe Yengo.

Figure 6. Photographer: Mandilakhe Yengo.

 ‘PIECING TOGETHER A GIRLHOOD’ 433

Feedback about my choice of site and the journey of the piece

was clearly summed up by Miki Flockemann:

The choice of sites was daring – shifting from the initially elegant space
of the Egyptian façade to the exuberantly chaotic nostalgic tree, to the
ever more stark shadings of the journey into the pre- or unconscious
spaces, the place of refuge, despair or repair. The tree was an inspired
choice with its colourful accoutrements and ‘strange fruit’ dolls
swinging in the breeze. The precariousness of the audience’s viewing
situation for the last site was appropriately edgy for the closure that is
open-ended or never-ending (2009).

Throughout Katuntu the performers and the audience are required to

change location and the figures are constantly journeying from place
to place, both in their minds and in action. Just as the self is always
alternating, so too is landscape and additionally place. For that reason
my use of the word ‘site’ refers to a convoluted yet intricate
arrangement of my occupation, experience and memories of home,
place and landscape. My use of site is more than just location, setting
or locale; it also encompasses all the factors that come with the
‘ground’ itself. Therefore re-visiting site for us in Katuntu is not
merely going back to some place but going back to what endowed
that place, that home, that landscape with meaning to begin with; it is
recalling some lost thing or time.

SOUNDING THE MEMORY

Katuntu uses song performance as a site for the creation of shared
girlfriend memory. Through incantatory call and response, the voice
of memory, albeit fragmented, is summoned into being.6 Call and
response is the prime pattern of communication. In African and
African American culture, call and response is pervasive as a pattern
of musical, social and political expression. An example of such
expression can be seen in the weekly gatherings of African
Americans in the Clearing in Beloved, where the entire community
responds to Baby Suggs’s ‘call’ (Su, 2005: 27). The gatherings blend
elements of Christian revival, celebration and group therapy through
the traditional African American call and response patterns. Call and
response can also be place-bound (ibid.) just as it is in Katuntu,
where certain calls are associated with specific places and memories.
The calls are repeated and are cyclic so that a call that is heard in the
opening section recurs in the tree and in the pit in different patterns,
rhythms and tones. The social structure established by the call and
434 ALUDE MAHALI

response model is easily broken and is dependent on the ‘caller’ for

continuity. There is a certain reliance on the caller and the hearer – in
this case the girlfriend other – to carry over that call. My figure is
dependent on the call of her girlfriend other for guidance, direction,
affirmation and confirmation of self. When that call is no longer
heard or understood, my figure is forced to recall, retrace and plot her
own course.
When Baby Suggs refuses to continue the call in Beloved, the
Clearing still has significance for Sethe and in going back there she
still hears the “longago singing they left behind” (Morrison, 1997:
164). The Clearing becomes a ‘primal place’ for Sethe. Perhaps Su
uses ‘primal place’ in the very same way that Kulundu and I use
‘memory hotspots’ (Su, 2005: 30). For us, these memory hotspots are
memory bubbles, exact memory places where we erupt and flow into
memory. We are unexpectedly stirred by the hotspots and are moved,
hear and remember the feeling of what it must have been like to have
been there – in that memory. The whole tree is a tangible and vivid
‘memory hotspot’ and at times the figure played by Kulundu is a
‘hotspot’ – my figure’s physical contact with her causes explosive
memory outbreaks. At times an outburst is elicited by an object or
song, in this case making the ‘hotspot’ a thing or sound, and this
sound is often a repetition, re-imagining or recurrence of a call
ensuring that particular spot holds a detailed significance. Individuals
can shift which place becomes ‘primal’ or even identify with several
‘primal places’ (ibid.), just as a ‘hotspot’ can be a person, a song, a
place, an object or sometimes all of these things.
These memory hotspots draw out a physical language that
became part of the investigation of how playing memory might
manifest itself in the body and from the landscape in which you are
playing in the Katuntu process. Rather than taking existing bodily
symptoms and investigating them, we explored the terrain which
might then evoke bodily reactions, which we then reconstructed or
translated into visual images. Accordingly, these memory hotspots
become exact locations that hold such lucid memories and are such
ineradicable markers that a figure’s passing over them incites an
involuntary corporeal response. This response is a way of articulating
a corporeal discourse and the symptoms of our loss speak on our
behalf when language fails us (Parker, 2001: 15). In Katuntu this
language is at times non-verbal, gestural, seldom using a
recognizable vocabulary, all integrating the call and response pattern
perpetuated by girlfriend play. These calls and responses include
 ‘PIECING TOGETHER A GIRLHOOD’ 435

murmurs, muttering gibberish, melodious harmonies, screeching

cries, piercing laughter, shattering wails, sporadic uttering, screams,
grunts, panting and heavy breathing. Sometimes the language is held
in a look, a sideways glance, a penetrating stare, a rolling of the eyes,
eyes open wide that cannot see or just vacant eyes. There is
something fierce about the vocal and gestural language, almost feral
(particularly the final section of the piece in the pit), where fierce
protective love is coupled with fierce unaccepting hate. We become
sound-makers, barely understood, except by each other. We are bits
for so long that we are only whole when we are together and, even
then the strain of this dichotomous relationship becomes almost too
overwhelming to tolerate. Memory, as this black female body (in
Katuntu’s case two bodies), devastates and is predisposed to
devastation. It is past and present and even future. It is dead, alive
and ailing, overt, partial and neither here nor there. It is resolute,
steadfast, then disintegrates. Memory as these two black bodies is not
easy to trust yet impossible to overlook, at once indescribable and
allusive (Quashie, 2004: 105). These contradictions personify
memory, at once characterizing how memory works and also
imbuing and endowing memory with dynamic lifelikeness. Memory
as a black and female body is critical, is muse, a sister-like goddess,
is artist and art, and must be occupied toward the attainment of a self-
defined voice, toward the meeting of the memory of one’s own body
– the girlfriend memory (110).

THE GIRLFRIEND OTHER

The girlfriend aesthetic is about sisterhood: woman-centred
engagement, two bodies in meeting and grip. The girlfriend is the
other someone who makes it possible for a black female subject to
bring more of herself into thought, to imagine herself in an untamed
and undomesticated safety. A woman is encouraged by her girlfriend
to be herself completely, even as the weight of doing so might be too
much for their connection to bear (Quashie, 2004: 16). This relentless
yet effortless relationship is reflected in Nyasha and Tambu in
Nervous Conditions (1988), in Sethe and Beloved in Beloved (1997)
and in the relationships Zandile has with her Grandmother and her
girlfriends in Have You Seen Zandile? (1988). The complexity of this
dual relationship is implicit in Katuntu; this double bind was
articulated in one of our writing sessions:

This other someone brings promise of tearing through to reveal what I

have already forgotten. She takes me with her, at times we are detained,
436 ALUDE MAHALI

and at times we are moving. She pulls me in and out, sometimes I pull
myself out. I feel disoriented; I get angry at her … at me when she
cannot fulfil this promise. When she pulls me into something so
familiar only to leave me to navigate on my own – I get so angry, I
want to slap these memories out of her. Then she coaxes me into
another and I am pacified again.

Bell Hooks isolates the ‘girl’ in ‘girlfriend’ and uses the word in
the way that it is used in traditional African American culture as an
indication of powerful womanist affection, not as an insult. “It is an
evocation to, and of intimacy, based on proud recognition of gender”
(Hooks, 1990: 100). Women in Xhosa culture use the word ntombi in
the same affectionate way. While hooks recognizes the importance of
black woman-centred identification, she acknowledges that it is not
necessarily the case, as there is sometimes a lack of sisterhood and
feminist solidarity among black women (hooks, 1990: 100). While
she supports the notion of the girlfriend ‘other’, she does not
romanticize it and understands that it must be approached and
understood as a dual relationship. For me, it is a readiness to see or
acknowledge set against that which you are painfully and
painstakingly trying to hide or conceal in your self and your other
self. This is the self that Quashie speaks about. It is not just the
‘other’ you recognize in ‘girlfriends’ or ‘mothers’ or ‘grandmothers’,
but an ‘other’ within you. It is precisely because of this black
woman-centred identification that encompasses the girlfriend
aesthetic that I was able to find an entry point into Katuntu as a
project and into my lost culture. Accordingly, when I talk about black
girlhood, I am talking about myself and ‘others’, but most
importantly I am talking about myself in an ‘other’, in this case,
Injairu Kulundu. The girlfriend relationship is one of
(dis)identification; what is uncovered is not a new identity but,
instead, a self that was always there – the waiting self: the girlfriend
subject in her complete humanity had always been a multiple subject
of unimaginable intensity and her performance of coupling with
an/other is subjectivity as revelation (Quashie, 2004:70). This is how
the mirror as object gains power and significance in Katuntu, because
what is revealed is not a new ‘self’ but a self that has always been
there, however disjointed. This presence, this other someone, is the
girlfriend.
In Katuntu, as the audience you enter a gendered world where the
voices belong to girls and to women, with voice forming the primary
performance modality. We play ourselves as well as each other,
 ‘PIECING TOGETHER A GIRLHOOD’ 437

seemingly like each other and then very different, seeing each others
‘selves’ around us, in us, through us. Katuntu is a story of loss and
journeying. The figure has banished herself to this open landscape in
a desperate attempt to find what she has lost and she is probing,
calling, hearing, searching in the hope of fixing, of repairing and
most importantly in the hope of healing – she is in exile, albeit in her
mind. Katuntu as a process also serves as a sense of renewal,
acceptance and forgiveness seen through the eyes of the girlfriend
‘other’ that is also so much the self. Our methodology involved
combining various artists and practitioners methods of working and
appropriating them in a way that suited our dual relationship and
what we found was a style of working that was both critical and
revelatory in our process of the making of Katuntu. The process of
re-membering – introspection, self-analysis, claims of affiliation
coupled with play and reflection in the form of intensive discussions,
practical exercises and written exercises – was a helpful approach in
developing a workable methodology.

WHAT KATUNTU MEANS NOW

Harnessing an exploration of the girlfriend aesthetic, nostalgic
discourse together with personal memory narratives was the driving
force of Katuntu. In collaboration with Injairu Kulundu, I journeyed
though the various paths of nostalgic memory in a collage of sound,
visual and narrative passage. We put into practice a methodology that
might articulate how one can play memory through individual and
shared experience. Using song performance, old photographs and
letters, childhood images and iconography, written and spoken text
and practical exercises, language and ‘girl friendship’ we
investigated disrupted girlhoods, loss of home and re-imagined site
as we organized our ‘selves’ into sisterhoods. This was the beginning
of finding a way of working that we could document, record and
archive. This required that we be extremely vigilant in doing so, no
moment could pass without storing. The problem with Practice as
Research in South Africa is that there are no set templates or models
to follow when doing practice-based research; the only thing one can
do is appropriate other methodologies of working and strongly root
your research in existing theories, although offering new and
innovative insights into them. Problems that can arise here include
getting stuck in the process, misuse of time in generating material,
losing objectivity and failure to assess the situation. Although you
could argue that these roadblocks are necessary in a creative process,
438 ALUDE MAHALI

they can be frustrating for the collaborators with no source of solid

reference. The other issue that arises is the process of evaluation;
how can we know that we have achieved what we sought out to?
How do we evaluate ourselves, our work and the events that have
taken place? How do we manage to sometimes gain objectivity?
In a report workshop on research in drama, theatre and
performance in South African institutions, Mark Fleishman,
Associate Professor at the University of Cape Town’s Drama
Department, records the difficulty in trying to frame practice as
research. He states a number of points that qualify a researcher to
frame a creative work as research. The researchers would have to
offer a question or problem to be addressed; they would have to
contextualize the inquiry detailing the location or environment of the
study within the field and body of theory in relation to the
researchers’ own work. The researchers would also have to outline
the methodology or process followed and plan for the distribution of
the research to other research communities and interested groups
(Fleishman, 2005: 3-4). Upon reading this now, I feel that this was
definitely followed and well managed during the Katuntu process.
Shaw and Chase, in an attempt to locate the conditions for
nostalgia, ask if it is possible to specify the situation in which
nostalgia will develop (1989: 2). The conclusion they reach is that a
clear division between past and present is crucial (2). Another
requirement is that images, artefacts, objects from the past should be
available and these become talismans that link us concretely to the
past. For me these objects (real and imagined) become triggers in the
creation of my work which is my attempt to cope with loss and seek
some sort of release. What we are nostalgic for is not the past as it
was or even as we wish it were, but for the condition of having been.
Injairu Kulundu articulated this point in one of our writing exercises
for Katuntu by saying:

As your [referring to me] custodian I have the benefit of hindsight, of

predicting, even knowing what will happen when this inevitable
disruption will occur. I am the one who will hold the memory when you
cannot name the rupture. I am the marker who already knows the
consequence and when you too realize it, when you jump out of your
own skin, you will come back and lay a flower on the places where you
died little deaths.

This journey feels almost cyclical as you continue to revisit these

‘places where you died little deaths’. This is the nature of Katuntu’s
 ‘PIECING TOGETHER A GIRLHOOD’ 439

ending; there is no real ending, no sense of coming to some closure,

because memory is always active, always unsettled just as nostalgia
is always placed in opposition to something else: past/present,
reality/fantasy, there/here. The nostalgic can never recapture a
desired whole, but can always work towards filling those gaps where
memory should be in an attempt at mending what has been broken. In
Katuntu, the audience is left, not with a sense of knowing but rather
left wondering where the journey will go. The figures themselves do
not know where they will be led next, for the girlfriend aesthetic is an
“ongoing unsettling process” (Quashie, 2004: 16). They do not know
whether they will continue to pick up from where they left off or
create another beginning, a threshold they might cross again, even if
that might lead to an inevitable split – in the spirit of dark play, they
might also surprise themselves.

NOTES

1 I could not ascertain who first used the term ‘atopia’. I use the
word as defined by Arturo Escobar in his article “Culture sits in
places” (2001), where atopia is used to define placelessness or
quite literally “without place” (140).
2 Quashie’s emphasis.
3 See Figures 1.
4 See Figure 4.
5 See Figures 5 and 6.
6 Ideas taken from Bilinda Straight’s article In the Belly of History,
where she writes about adornment and song performance amongst
young girls of the Imurran tribe (2005: 87).

REFERENCES
Boal, A. 1992. Games For Actors and Non-actors (2nd edition). New York:
Routledge.
Bogart, A & Landau, T. 2005. The Viewpoints Books: A practical guide to
viewpoints and composition. New York: Theatre Communications
Group.
Boym, S. 2001. The Future of Nostalgia. New York: Basic Books.
Dallow, J. 2004. Reclaiming histories: Betye and Alison Saar, feminism and
the representation of black womanhood. Feminist Studies. 30(1): 73-
114.
440 ALUDE MAHALI

Dangarembga, T. 1988. Nervous Conditions. London: The Women’s Press

Ltd.
Delisle, J. 2006. Finding the future in the past: nostalgia and community-
building in Gcina Mhlope’s Have you seen Zandile? Journal of South
African Studies. 32(2): 386-402.
Dowler, L. et al. (Eds). 2005. Women Place: Gender and Landscape. New
York: Routledge.
Escobar, A. 2001. Culture sits in places: reflections on globalism and
subaltern strategies of localization. Political Geography 20(2): 139-174.
Fleishman, M. 2005. Report on Workshop on Research In Drama, Theatre
and Performance in South African HE Institutions. National Research
Foundation. Cape Town: University of Cape Town, Department of
Drama.
Flockemann, M. 2009. External Examiner’s feedback for Master’s thesis.
Gaganakis, M. 2006. Identity construction in adolescent girls: the content
dependency of racial and gendered perceptions. Gender and Education.
18(4): 361-379.
Gorle, G. 1997. Fighting the good fight: what Tsitsi Dangarembga’s
Nervous Conditions says about language and power. The Yearbook of
English Studies. Vol.27: The Politics of Postcolonial Criticism: 179-
192.
Hooks, B. 1990. Yearning: Race, Gender and Cultural Politics. Boston,
MA: South End Press.
________. 2009. Belonging: A Culture of Place. New York: Routledge.
________. 1996. Bone Black: Memories of Girlhood. New York: Holt.
Morrison, T. 1997. Beloved. London: Vintage.
Mhlope, G. et al. 1988. Have you seen Zandile? Portsmouth: Heinemann.
Parker, E. 2001. A new hystery: history and hysteria in Toni Morrison’s
Beloved. Twentieth Century Literature. 47(1): 1-19.
Shaw, C & Chase, M. (Eds). 1989. The Imagined Past: history and
nostalgia. Manchester: Manchester University Press.
Schechner, R. 2002. Performance Studies: An Introduction (2nd edition).
New York: Routledge.
Shockley, E. 1997. hooks, b. Bone Black: Memories of Girlhood, book
reviews. (Reviewed by Evelyn E. Shockley, Duke University.) African
American Review. 31(3): 552-554.
 ‘PIECING TOGETHER A GIRLHOOD’ 441

Straight, B. 2005. In the Belly of History: Memory, Forgetting, and the

Hazards of Reproduction. Africa: Journal of the International African
Institute. 52(1): 83-104.
Su, J. 2005. Ethics and Nostalgia in the Contemporary Novel. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press.
Taub, M. 2004. Playing with/in history: an investigation of fragments and
methods of their assemblage in the composition of historical dramatic
narrative. Unpublished Master’s dissertation. Cape Town: University of
Cape Town.
Quashie, K. 2004. Black Women, Identity and Cultural Theory:
(un)becoming the subject. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press.
ABSTRACTS
 ABSTRACTS

1. THE DILEMMA OF THE AFRICAN BODY AS A SITE OF

PERFORMANCE IN THE CONTEXT OF WESTERN TRAINING

SAMUEL RAVENGAI

This paper is based on a study carried out between 2003 and 2007 on
the responses of learners to the psycho-technique as an actor training
method. In Africa and particularly Zimbabwe tradition, modernity
and post-modernity have developed simultaneously and still co-exist.
For this reason acting learners over the years have invariably
reflected this trend. The acting class is composed of two groups of
African students. The first group is thoroughly rural and most of its
members go through a life-long training of their bodies through
menial labour, cultural protocols, rituals, festivals or Africanised
churches. The repeated practice of these daily and seasonal
performances encodes the techniques in their bodies. These are ‘in-
body’ disciplines akin to Asian martial arts or Western ballet, which
eliminate all physical and mental obstacles in the way of correct
practice, leaving a body encoded with technique. The second group
of African learners is composed of those who were born and bred in
the city, with the relatively affluent forming the extreme end of the
group. After going through the course, two varied competencies
develop in these groups of learners. The first group excels in
character conception in African plays, but is limited by the English
language. The second group is comfortable with the English
language, but is limited by their de-ethnicised bodies which tend to
resist the proposed characters. I question the suitability of the
psycho-technique which seems restrictive and mono-cultural and
argue for an acting pedagogy that takes care of the various cultural
dynamics inherent in African students.
 446 ABSTRACTS

2. INTERCULTURALISM REVISITED: IDENTITY

CONSTRUCTION IN AFRICAN AND AFRICAN-CARIBBEAN
PERFORMANCE

KENE IGWEONU

This chapter examines the enduring influence of Africa on African-

Caribbean culture and performance traditions, underscoring the need
to recognize African-Caribbean culture as a unique cultural
manifestation by drawing on Joseph Roach’s concept of the circum-
Atlantic. It revisits intercultural theory, especially with regard to the
cultural exchange between Africa and the Caribbean. At the same
time, it examines how African-Caribbean performances challenge the
notion of African authenticity, while retaining a genealogical link to
the African past. It attempts to clarify the treatment of the term
intercultural, particularly ways in which transnational dispersions of
African forms have taken them in new directions through the
discussion of African dance in a transnational context. The chapter
underlines the compelling link between African and African-
Caribbean performance aesthetics, but also presents a situation in
which notions of own and foreign are both dispelled in performance.
It also attempts to develop Osita Okagbue’s vision of a new
intercultural critical terminology that will be useful in describing the
unique interaction between African and African-Caribbean
performance cultures through a proposed notion of interactional
diffusion.

3. BEYOND THE MIRACLE: TRENDS IN SOUTH AFRICAN

THEATRE AND PERFORMANCE AFTER 1994

JOHANN VAN HEERDEN

After the socio-political changes in South Africa following the

democratic elections of 1994, the relationship between the state and
the arts changed markedly. Whereas under apartheid the white
population groups benefited greatly from government support for the
primarily Eurocentric cultural heritage and the arts, the new South
Africa recognised a multicultural and multilingual population whose
every human right was protected under the new Constitution. Under
the new government the priorities shifted and this resulted in a
 ABSTRACTS 447

transformation of the state-subsidised Performing Arts Councils and

generally in the financial dynamics of the arts and culture sector.
During the first decade of democracy an arts festival circuit emerged
which provided opportunities for specific population groups to
celebrate their cultural heritage and also for new independent theatre-
makers to enter the industry. After the demise of apartheid there was
no longer a market for the protest theatre that had become a hallmark
of much South African performing arts in the 1970s and 1980s, and
creative artists had to discover new areas of focus and find alternative
creative stimuli. This paper identifies and examines a number of
major trends that emerged in the professional theatre in post-
apartheid South Africa during the first decade of its new democracy.

4. TRANSFORMATION AND THE DRAMA STUDIES

CURRICULUM IN SOUTH AFRICA: A SURVEY OF SELECTED
UNIVERSITIES

PATRICK EBEWO

The apartheid regime in South Africa supported an exclusively

Western model of education, and for a long time the tenets of
Western liberal theory were not questioned. During the apartheid era
university education was based on a mono-cultural approach with a
bias towards Western values and outcomes. With the demise of
apartheid and the formation of the Government of National Unity
(GNU) in 1994, a need arose for a paradigm shift – for a new form of
education to be put in place to address the imbalances of the past.
The South African government has made giant strides towards the
transformation of the multiracial country, including transformational
pedagogy in education (the Revised National Curriculum Statement,
RNCS). Besides the creation of a single National Department of
Education, the transformation of the education system is supposed to
boost the Africanisation (African-oriented in content) of the syllabus,
foregrounding the cultural practices of the formerly oppressed
peoples. In South Africa theatre and drama occupy such a prominent
position that they are not only being studied as an academic
discipline in traditional universities, but also being offered as a
programme in universities of technology. The chapter explores the
existing gap between local and continental African contents in South
 448 ABSTRACTS

African theatre studies syllabi, and probes efforts being made to

desegregate the curriculum.

5. THE TALL TALE OF TALL HORSE: THE ILLUSION (OR

MANIFESTATION) OF AFRICAN CULTURAL AND
TRADITIONAL AESTHETICS IN HYBRID PERFORMANCES

PETRUS DU PREEZ

The contested notion of African performance and theatre in the 21st

century points to such an immense field and varied types of
performances that it is (and has always been) impossible to give a set
list of characteristics of what constitutes African theatre. The
numerous languages, cultural expressive forms, tribes, peoples, the
vast geographical space the continent covers all make the attempt to
classify African theatre and performance a futile act. The influences
of various types of colonization, whether political and/or religious,
have shaped forms of performances across the whole continent to
such an extent that most performances are seen as hybrid forms of
theatre. African theatre and performance is a hybrid entity. The
question that arises is: do African performances and theatre look for
an African audience? Tall Horse (2004) (a collaborative production
between the South African Handspring Puppet Company and the
Sogolon Theatre of Mali) will be used as a case study to illustrate
how the hybrid nature of what has been called African theatre has
developed to such an extent that the African aspects of the
performance have been reduced to the visual aesthetics of the
production. The exotic dimension of intercultural contact between
different performative traditions from Africa also comes into play. In
this discussion the aim is to illustrate how these elements of the
exotic and the intercultural connection have the effect of audiences
outside of Africa (which appear to have been the primary audience)
continuing with the old and unavoidable acts of othering. It was an
African show, but where was the African audience?
 ABSTRACTS 449

6. FROM TRANCE DANCE TO PaR: THEATRE AND

PERFORMANCE STUDIES IN SOUTH AFRICA

TEMPLE HAUPTFLEISCH

The article considers five phases in the development of modern

theatre studies in South Africa, starting with the decade 1925-1935,
when the first major theatre history appeared, a fully fledged
(Western) theatre system was established and the African theatre
tradition was recognized. The years 1945-1962 saw the establishment
of a coherent professional theatre system, the first state-funded
theatre company and the first drama departments. Between 1970 and
1985 the practice and study of the arts became weapons of the
struggle, new scientific paradigms appeared, and incentives were
introduced to increase publication and postgraduate study. During
the final two phases (1988-94 and 1997-9) research output increased
markedly and practitioners and commentators sought reconciliation
and healing through theatre and performance. International
publication and cooperation, particularly with Africa, became of
prime importance.

7. THEATRE IN/FOR DEVELOPMENT IN TANZANIA: A

NEOLIBERAL NIGHTMARE

VICENSIA SHULE

The end of colonialism soon opened the way to neo-colonialism and

before the end of the century neoliberalism was already in place.
Neoliberal policies were advocated in the form of Structural
Adjustment Programmes (SAPs) and imposed on most African
countries, including Tanzania, by the International Monetary Fund
(IMF) and World Bank (WB) as ‘secular gods’ in the 1980s. But they
created more bondage and indebtedness than survival, as intended.
Since the reforms in the respective country were geared towards
economic and political activities, theatre was not left in isolation. It
has been reshaped, unnecessarily, so as to fit in with the neoliberal
policies, hence the changes in form and content. Today theatre has
turned into an attractive business for NGO and INGO proposal
writers. On the basis of the concept of ‘developmentalism’, forms of
theatre such as Theatre for Development (TfD) have been
 450 ABSTRACTS

transformed. But such changes have not offered alternative

approaches to dissociate theatre from being a manifestation of
neoliberalism. This paper analyses the consequences of neoliberalism
for the Tanzanian theatre and exposes the challenges it faces as a
simulacrum of people’s culture.

8. VOICE IN THE TEETH OF POWER: POPULAR THEATRE

UNDER THE CENSORSHIP RADAR IN ZIMBABWE (1998-
2008)

PRAISE ZENENGA

This chapter examines the different theatrical forms developed within

the context of increasing state surveillance, harassment, arrest,
persecution and censorship of political theatre in Zimbabwe at the
turn of the century as subordinate social groups strive to express
dissent in the face of an overwhelmingly oppressive hegemonic
power. It argues that popular theatre artists in Zimbabwe often
develop new and relevant systems of aesthetics for theatrical
performances in order to keep pace with an ever-changing political
climate, while simultaneously endeavouring to remain true to a
progressive social and political agenda. While providing a historical
overview of the various ways in which Zimbabwean popular theatre
practitioners constantly negotiate and navigate the political
landscape, this chapter particularly focuses on a wide range of
surreptitious strategies as well as on the risky, in-your-face
performances that artists created to resist subjugation, express dissent
and critique the state, especially during the crisis decade (1998-
2008). While Zimbabwean theatre activists envision change by
challenging or undermining established forms of power and authority
in response to the 21st century’s call for the contestation of ideas
around possible options for economic development and democrat-
ization, the state in turn views popular theatre as a threat to national
security and stability. Consequently the regime views artists who
practice political theatre as unpatriotic traitors who should be
silenced, meaning that all state security organs are mobilized and put
on high alert to banish all political theatre activity. This chapter not
only analyzes the various censorship mechanisms, but also examines
a plethora of ingenious strategies that popular theatre artists living
and working in such a highly treacherous political terrain devise to
 ABSTRACTS 451

evade censorship and pragmatically ensure their survival and artistic

advancement.

9. CITIZENS’ STORIES – OR THEATRE AS PERFORMING

CITIZENSHIP IN ZIMBABWE

VIBEKE GLØRSTAD

Zimbabwean theatre is the space for performing contested visions of

citizenship, understood as struggles over ways of belonging. The
theatre becomes a site for evolving processes of citizenship. The
struggles are about identity – the Zimbabwean citizen. The theatre
tries to understand why some are excluded from this category. How
has theatre been used to contest narrow official categories of identity
and politics? Recent decades have seen a development in citizenship
studies which moves beyond the conception of citizenship merely as
a status held under the authority of a state towards an understanding
that includes various political and social struggles for a recognition
and extension of citizenship beyond the idea of the loyal citizen. This
is a relevant theoretical approach in the light of attempts to confine
citizenship to special groups in Zimbabwe, described as ‘super-
citizens’ (party members from the right region), while other are ‘non-
citizens’, who oppose the regime in different ways. Radical theatre
contests these attempts to limit people’s democratic participation and
involvement in citizenship as a process by making space for
participation at different levels. The chapter looks at the plays
Superpatriots and Morons (Rooftop Promotions, Raisedon Baya,
2004, 2009), The Good President (Cont Mhlanga, 2007) and The
Waiting (Raisedon Baya, 2008).

10. TOWARDS A POLITICALLY EFFICACIOUS COMMUNITY-

BASED THEATRE

OLA JOHANSSON

Young people make up the most susceptible groups in the AIDS

epidemic in Tanzania. Their most practised form of HIV prevention
is community-based theatre (CBT). However, no official assessment
has been done to advance the use of theatre in aid programmes. After
 452 ABSTRACTS

a long-term research project, the conclusions indicate that gender

predicaments exposed in performances cut so close to the epidemic
determinants that a redress of such issues would threaten the jobs of
politicians and aid workers. In anticipation of a ‘performative
democracy’, the efficacy of CBT may be what hinders its legitimacy
as a social and political force against AIDS.

11. DANCE MOVEMENT ANALYSIS AS PSYCHO-DIAGNOSTIC

TOOL IN MODERN NIGERIAN MEDICAL PRACTICE: AN
INTRODUCTION

GLADYS IJEOMA AKUNNA

The physiological concept of mental health as a component of

cognition, attitude and the interpersonal social aspect of the
personality alludes to the prominent role of communication
modalities, especially bodily movements in interpreting, evaluating
and validating various issues connected to subjective experience,
through the process of psycho-diagnosis. Thus, in African (Nigerian)
forms of traditional medicine, psychological diagnostics are
prominently utilized in determining, identifying and prescribing
appropriate treatment. This is particularly so in cases of mental
illness. Reliance is often on the psychological function of dance
(movement), not only as an interventionist strategy to release stress
and anxiety, but also as an expressive informative instrument of
communication in investigating clients’ attitudes and gestures.
Consequently, this discourse proposes that in the psycho-diagnosis of
the dynamics of human behaviour and interaction, bodily movements
may be explored in the behavioural psychometric and psycho-
physiological assessment of mental status in modern Nigerian
therapeutic medicine. By and large, adopting a structural approach
focuses the major concern of this study – to reflect the principle and
operating system of dance movement therapy as an emerging field of
study and practice in Nigeria – on the role and purpose of movement
analysis as a psycho-diagnostic medium in the treatment of some
mental illnesses.
 ABSTRACTS 453

12. TREADING SUBTLY ON VOLATILE GROUND: AHMED

YERIMA’S HARD GROUND AND THE DRAMATIZATION OF
THE NIGER DELTA CRISIS IN NIGERIA

OSITA EZENWANEBE

This paper explores the issue of self- and/or hidden censorship and
the politics of representation. Majorie Boulton wrote that “good taste
and psychological prudence” regulate the shock of an experience
represented on the stage. How then should a highly volatile and
delicate situation be captured for the stage? Is it possible for a
playwright to remain unaligned in representing dangerous and
sensitive issues? What are the moral and artistic implications of the
playwright’s style of representation? The Niger Delta crisis in
Nigeria is one such volatile, sensitive and dangerous situation,
associated with strong emotional attachments and many shades of
feelings. The Nigerian economy is dependent on crude oil, found
most abundantly in the Niger Delta. The crisis lies the armed
resistance of the Niger Delta youths against the federal government
and the multinational oil and gas companies as a result of long years
of neglect of the interests of the people and indifference to the
ecological consequences of the exploration of the region’s oil and gas
resources. People interpret the situation according to their political,
religious and ethnic leanings. How did Ahmed Yerima, the Director
of the National Theatre and the Artistic Director of the National
Troupe of Nigeria, capture the Niger Delta crisis in his play Hard
Ground? To answer the above questions, Yerima’s play is critically
analysed to evaluate the playwright’s style as well as its artistic and
moral implications.

13. DRAMA AS AN ANALYTICAL TOOL OF CONTEMPORARY

SOCIETY: AHMED YERIMA’S HARD GROUND AND THE
POLITICS OF THE NIGER DELTA

ADEBISI ADEMAKINWA

Historical materials have been used by dramatists through the ages,

from the time of the ancient Greeks, not only for entertainment
purposes but also to underline economic, social and political
conditions. However, the transformation of historical materials into
 454 ABSTRACTS

drama requires a dramaturgical approach which must effectively

synthesize hard historical facts in terms of theatrical aesthetics. In
this chapter Ahmed Yerima’s award-winning play Hard Ground
represents what is termed ‘relevant theatre’ basically because the
Niger-Delta problem it deals with is significant to Nigeria as a
nation, Africa as a continent and the economy of the West in the 21st
century. The paper emphasises that ‘relevant theatre’ becomes
necessary to Africans in the 21st century as the theatre should not be
totally alienated from historical developments in society. It also
observes that many Nigerian dramatists in this century have turned to
‘relevant theatre’ and through their commitment they assist
government agencies, non-governmental organizations etc. to
sensitize people to a number of crucial social, economic and political
issues. From our analysis of Hard Ground, however, we conclude
that ‘relevant theatre’ has not translated into ‘effective theatre’. The
chapter investigates factors that can work against ‘relevant theatre’ in
any socio-political background.

14. THEATRE-ON-DEMAND: STELLA OYEDEPO – THEATRICAL

MEGASTAR OF THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY

NGOZI UDENGWU

Theatre is facing a number of challenges in this century and needs to

reposition itself in order to be able to meet them. Theatre has been
challenged to prove its worth as an academic discipline capable of
generating knowledge through research, and therefore meriting its
place as a university academic programme deserving funding as any
other academic discipline. Theatre has also been faced with stifling
competition from satellite television and the cinema as popular
entertainment. This chapter argues that the type of theatre that can
survive the demands of the twenty-first century is one that is
accessible, relevant and custom-made, very much in the nature of an
‘applied theatre’ project that serves a specific need, but which has in
actuality been the nature of traditional African performance. The
chapter posits that the tools that the theatre needs in this century can
be found in traditional performance modes and consequently
proposes their revival. Stella Oyedepo’s approach to theatre offers a
model according to which theatre can survive the challenges of this
century. Her approach, which can be described as ‘theatre-on-
 ABSTRACTS 455

demand’ has enjoyed huge success. As the most prolific playwright

and theatre director in Nigeria, Oyedepo’s theatrical fervour places
her in a special position as an advocate of an indigenous African
performance paradigm. The chapter will try to explicate Oyedepo’s
theatre as an African theatre of the twenty-first century using
analogies drawn from traditional African performance, the travelling
theatre tradition and applied theatre conventions.

15. ABIBIGORO: MOHAMED BEN ABDALLAH’S SEARCH FOR

AN AFRICAN AESTHETIC IN THE THEATRE

AWO MANA ASIEDU

The post-colonial quest for nationalistic forms of theatre across the

African continent has led in several cases to vibrant experimentation.
In Ghana the doyen of modern theatre, Efua Sutherland, introduced
what she called anansegoro, a uniquely Ghanaian genre of theatre
based on traditional folktales known as Anansesem or Ananse
stories. Anansegoro has been translated as Ananse play or Ananse
theatre, and is exemplified by her play The Marriage of Anansewa.
Subsequent playwrights have built on her work, drawing inspiration
from her bold attempts to create a Ghanaian aesthetic in the theatre.
Mohamed ben Abdallah, a leading contemporary Ghanaian
playwright and theatre director, is notable in this regard and has
indicated his search for what he calls an “authentic African theatre”.
Abdallah substitutes ‘Ananse’ (which refers to the trickster
protagonist in anansegoro) with ‘abibi’ to create abibigoro, which
translates as ‘black theatre’ or ‘black play’. This paper asserts the
need for indigenous theorising and valorisation of contemporary
theatre practices in African terms and with reference to African
culture. It specifically examines these two newly coined terms,
anansegoro and abibigoro, by these two Ghanaian playwrights and
theatre practitioners. The multiple meanings of these terms and the
implications for the theatre practices they describe form the major
thrust of the first part of the chapter. The second part focuses
primarily on the theatre of ben Abdallah, describing the elements of
his abibigoro evident in his plays, particularly The Slaves and The
Fall of Kumbi, which have recently been revised by the playwright.
This revision of earlier plays, I argue, was an attempt to place them
 456 ABSTRACTS

more prominently within his conceptual frame of abibigoro and are

indications of his restless search for an authentic form.

16. AFRICAN DANCE IN DIASPORA: THE EXAMPLES OF

NIGERIAN YORUBA BÀTÁ AND DÙNDÚN

JELEEL O. OJUADE

Bàtá and Dùndún are ethnic music/dances that are found among the
Yoruba people of south-western Nigeria. Both Bàtá and Dùndún are
applicable in performances of religious/ritual and social cultural
activities, and have complex and multiple varying features as played
on the instruments (drums), but are better realized in dance
movements. This chapter paper looks at the concept of dance
performances as represented or featured in diaspora functions or
events. Using historical and descriptive methodologies, the study
discusses the applications of Bàtá and Dùndún dances of the Yoruba
people (originally from Nigeria) in diasporic context. Specific
examples of this study are drawn from the applications and usage of
Bàtá and Dùndún dances by famous groups such as the Ayanagalu
International Dancers and Ojuade’s International Dance Group in
Nigeria as well as by some of the activities of the dancer, Peter
Badejo (OBE) in the United Kingdom. The study addresses
particularly the development in performances culminating in
‘hybrids’ and the consequent dynamics in form and style. One
finding of the study is that differences in culture and environment
generate differences in the conventions associated with such
performances. The study recommends the preservation of African
dance forms in performance presentations. This will promote
peaceful co-existence among cultures, project harmonization of
forms and retain originality.
 ABSTRACTS 457

17. CELEBRATION AS AESTHETIC DEVICE IN CONTEMPORARY

NIGERIAN DANCE PRODUCTIONS: HUBERT OGUNDE’S
DESTINY AS EXAMPLE.

CHRIS UGOLO

Africans celebrate every aspect of their lives: birth, coming of age,

significant achievements in life and death. This way of life has
become part of a stylistic device especially in the production of dance
forms. Hence to the African dance is life, just as life is dance. This
approach to life has also been incorporated into contemporary
African theatre, and contemporary dance is one area where this style
has manifested greatly, especially in Nigeria. This is the ‘celebratory’
approach to dance production which relies heavily on traditional
African festival theatre with its aesthetic of spectacle. In traditional
and modern African societies, celebration is a way of life.
Contemporary Nigerian dance productions have tended to borrow
heavily from traditional African festival theatre. This is evident in the
areas of theme, subject matter, structure, and production approach
and style. Hubert Ogunde, one of Nigeria’s foremost choreographers,
who serve as a bridge between the colonial past and the present, has
through his experimentation and innovation initiated a tradition that
lends itself to contemporary Nigerian choreographic practices. This
chapter seeks to explore “celebration as an aesthetic device” in dance
production in its contemporary usage, as exemplified in the works of
Ogunde, a Nigerian dance icon, who has influenced twenty-first
century practitioners of dance choreography. This is done by taking a
historical look at Nigerian dance theatre and especially the traditional
Nigerian modes of dance production. A brief biography of Hubert
Ogunde will also be provided. This is followed by an examination of
the production Destiny to highlight “celebration” as an aesthetic
device, and finally to explore how Ogunde deployed this in his
production of Destiny, especially in his approach to contemporary
dance form.
 458 ABSTRACTS

18. ‘PIECING TOGETHER A GIRLHOOD’: USING THE

‘GIRLFRIEND AESTHETIC’ AS A PRACTICAL
METHODOLOGY IN THE MAKING AND PERFORMANCE OF
KATUNTU (…AND YOU TOO)

ALUDE MAHALI

Katuntu is a site-specific work born out of an enquiry concerned with

the study of black girlhood in performance, particularly black African
girlhood and the under-representation of black African girlhood as a
topic in the literary and performing arts. Theorist Kevin Quashie
writes in his book Black Women, Identity and Cultural Theory:
(un)becoming the subject (2004) about the ‘girlfriend aesthetic’,
which I found to be a useful tool, even methodology, for the
representation of shared experience and a shared idea of selfhood
amongst black African girls. This ‘girlfriend aesthetic’ was an
inherent device from Katuntu’s inception to its realization. The
‘girlfriend aesthetic’ proceeds from the notion that through a
discourse of otherness, some black women come to represent
selfhood as the dynamic relationship between one woman and her
‘other’, her girlfriend. The selfhood offers volatility through the use
of two levels of identification between self and other, identification
with and identification as. The continuous transference between with
(in which a subject materializes comparatively) and as (in which the
subject materializes metonymically) also represents (dis)identifi-
cation, because the subject is always being dislodged and dislodging
herself from a complete identity with her other (Quashie, 2004: 16).
Katuntu uses song performance as a site for the creation of shared
girlfriend memory through incantatory call and response, summoning
the voice of memory, however fragmented, into being. Katuntu is a
story of loss and journeying. The figure in the piece has banished
herself to an open landscape in a desperate attempt to find what she
has lost and she is searching, searching in the hope of fixing, of
repairing, and most importantly in the hope of healing – she is in
exile, albeit in her mind. The figures’ oscillate between self and other
mirroring, merging and splitting their incomplete identities that work
as a dichotomous push and pull. In Katuntu the mirror is not only
used as an object, but also as an action that indicates exactly what the
‘girlfriend aesthetic’ proposes. Quashie’s ‘girlfriend aesthetic’ offers
a methodology for re-membering by providing a reflective surface;
you see in the experience of the girlfriend other something that
 ABSTRACTS 459

triggers or incites your own memory. Katuntu as a process also

served to generate a sense of renewal, acceptance and forgiveness
seen through the eyes of the girlfriend’s other; that is also so much
the self.
A SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY OF
AFRICAN THEATRE (1990-2011)
A SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY OF AFRICAN
THEATRE (1990-2011)

KENE IGWEONU

This bibliography of key resources on African theatre lists selected

monographs and edited collections published since 1990. It was
compiled with assistance from members of the working group and
colleagues with an interest in African theatre. Special thanks to the
following people for their help in putting this bibliography together:
Don Rubin, Vicensia Shule, Christopher Odhiambo, Temple
Hauptfleisch, Edwin Hees and Petrus du Preez.

Akampa, A. 2004. Theatre and Postcolonial Desires. London:

Routledge.
Arndt, S., & K. Berndt. (Eds). 2007. Words and Worlds: African
Writing, Theatre and Society. Trenton: Africa World Press, Inc.
Arndt, S., B. Eckhard & M. S. Von Brisinski (Eds). 2007. Theatre,
Performance and New Media in Africa. Bayreuth: Bayreuth
African Studies 82.
Attridge, D. & R. Jolly (Eds). 1998. Writing South Africa: Literature,
apartheid and democracy, 1970-1995. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.
Banham, M. & J. Plastow (Eds). 1999. Contemporary African
Drama. London: Methuen.
Banham, M. (Ed.). 2004. A History of Theatre in Africa. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press.
Banham, M., E. Hill & G. Woodyard (Eds). 1994. The Cambridge
Guide to African and Caribbean Theatre. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.
Banham, M., J. Gibbs, & F. Osofisan (Eds). 1999. African Theatre in
Development. Oxford: James Currey.
464 A SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY OF AFRICA THEATRE (1990-2011)

________. 2001. African Theatre Playwrights and Politics. Oxford:

James Currey.
________. 2008. African Theatre: Companies. Oxford: James Currey.
________.2009. African Theatre: Diasporas. Oxford: James Currey.
Banham, M., J. Gibbs, F. Osofisan & J. Plastow (Eds). 2002. African
Theatre Women. Oxford: James Currey.
Banham, M., J. Gibbs, F. Osofisan & M. Etherton. (Eds). 2006.
African Theatre: Youth. Oxford: James Currey.
Barber, K. 2000. The Generations of Plays: Yoruba Popular Life in
Theatre. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Barber, K., J. Collins & A. Ricard (Eds). 1997. West African Popular
Theatre. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Bourgault, L. M. 2003. Playing For Life: Performance in Africa in
the Age of AIDS. Durham, NC: Carolina Academic Press.
Breitinger, E. (Ed.). 1993. Theatre and Performance in Africa:
Intercultural Perspectives. Bayreuth: Bayreuth African Studies.
Coker, A. 2005. Ola Rotimi's African Theatre: The Development of
an Indigenous Aesthetic. New York and Lampeter: Edwin
Mellen.
Cole, M. C. 2001. Ghana's Concert Party Theatre. Bloomington:
Indiana University Press.
Conteh, M. J. & T. Olaniyan (Eds). 2004. African Drama and
Performance. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Conteh-Morgan, J. & D. Thomas. 2010. New Francophone African
and Caribbean Theatres. Bloomington: Indiana University Press
Conteh-Morgan, J. 1994. Theatre and Drama in Francophone
Africa: A Critical Introduction. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.
Crow, B. & C. Banfield. 1996. Introduction to Post Colonial
Theatre. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Davis, G. & A. Fuchs (Eds). 1996. Theatre and Change in South
Africa. Amsterdam: Harwood Academic Publishers.
Davis, G. V. 1996. Theatre and Change in South Africa. Amsterdam:
Harwood.
 A SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY OF AFRICA THEATRE (1990-2011) 465

Dugga, V. S. 2002. Creolisations in Nigerian Theatre. Bayreuth:

Bayreuth African Studies.
Epskamp, K. P. 2006. Theatre for Development: An Introduction to
Context, Applications and Training. London: Zed Books.
Etherton, M. (ed.). 2006. African Theatre Youth. London: James
Currey.
Frank, H. 2004. Role-play in South African Theatre. Bayreuth:
Bayreuth African Studies.
Gibbs, J. 2009. Nkyin-Kyin: Essays on the Ghanaian Theatre.
Amsterdam & New York: Rodopi.
Gunner, E. (ed.). 1994. Politics and Performance: Theatre, Poetry
and Song in Southern Africa. Johannesburg: Wits University
Press.
Harding, F. (ed.). 2002. Performance Arts in Africa: A Reader.
London: Routledge.
Hauptfleisch, T. 1997. Theatre and Society in South Africa:
Reflections in a Fractured Mirror. Pretoria: J.L. Van Schaik.
Hutchinson, Y. & E. Breitinger (Eds). 2000. History and Theatre in
Africa. Bayreuth: Bayreuth African Studies 50.
Jeyifo, B. (ed.). 2002. Modern African Drama. New York and
London: Norton.
Johansson, O. 2011. Community Theatre and AIDS. London:
Palgrave Macmillan.
Kathy A. P. (ed.). 2009. African Women Playwrights. Champaign:
University of Illinois Press.
Kerr, D. 1995. African Popular Theatre. London: James Currey.
Kolk, M. (ed). 2009. Performing Gender in Arabic/African Theater:
Between Cultures, Between Gender. Amsterdam: Intercultural
Theatre: ‘East Meets West’.
Krueger, A. 2010. Experiments in Freedom: Explorations of Identity
in Recent South African English Play Texts. Newcastle:
Cambridge Scholars Publishing.
Kruger, L. 1999. The Drama of South Africa. Plays, Pageants and
Publics since 1910. London: Routledge.
466 A SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY OF AFRICA THEATRE (1990-2011)

Losambe, L. & D. Sarinjeive (Eds). 2002. Pre-colonial and

Postcolonial Drama and Theatre in Africa. Cape Town: New
Africa Books.
Mule, K. 2007. Women's Spaces, Women's Visions: Politics, Poetics
and Resistance in African Women's Drama. Trenton, NJ: Africa
World Press.
Obafemi, O. 2001. Contemporary Nigerian Theatre. Bayreuth:
Bayreuth African Studies.
Odhiambo, C. J. 2008. Theatre for Development in Kenya: In Search
of an Effective Procedure and Methodology. Bayreuth: Bayreuth
African Studies.
Okafor, D. 2001. Meditations on African Literature. Westport and
London: Greenwood Press.
Okagbue, O. 2007. African Theatres and Performances. London:
Routledge.
Okagbue, O. 2009. Culture and Identity in African and Caribbean
Theatre. London: Adonis & Abbey.
Olaniyan, T. 1995. Scars of Conquest/Masks of Resistance: The
Invention of Cultural Identities in African, African-American and
Caribbean Drama. Oxford & New York: Oxford University
Press.
Plastow, J. 1996. African Theatre and Politics. The Evolution of
Theatre in Ethiopia, Tanzania and Zimbabwe. A Comperative
Study. Amsterdam: Rodopi.
Rohmer. M. 2001. Theatre and Performance in Zimbabwe. Bayreuth:
Bayreuth African Studies.
Rubin, D., O. Diakhaté & H. N. Eyoh (Eds). 1997. The World
Encyclopedia of Contemporary Theatre. Volume 3: Africa.
London & New York: Routledge. (Also contains a bibliography
after every national article).
Salhi, K. (Ed.). 1998. African Theatre for Development: Art for Self-
determination. Bristol: Intellect.
Samba, E. N. 2005. Women in Theatre for Development in
Cameroon: Participation, Contributions and Limitations.
Bayreuth: Bayreuth African Studies.
 A SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY OF AFRICA THEATRE (1990-2011) 467

Susan A., B. Eckhard, & M. S. Von Brisinski (Eds). 2007. Theatre,

Performance and New Media in Africa. Bayreuth: Bayreuth
African Studies.
Takem, J. T. 2005. Theatre and Environmental Education in
Cameroon. Bayreuth: Bayreuth African Studies.
Ukaegbu, V. 2007. The Use of Masks in Igbo Theatre in Nigeria: The
Aesthetic Flexibility of Performance Traditions. New York and
Lampeter: Edwin Mellen.
NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS

Adebisi Ademakinwa (University of Lagos)

Adebisi Ademakinwa holds a BA (Combined Honours) degree in
Theatre Arts and Russian Studies from the University of Ibadan. He
also holds MA degrees in Theatre Arts and in European Studies. He
is a playwright who has written eight plays including the award-
winning Osusu: the Story of Creation. Ademakinwa is a theatre
director and an actor. He worked as a Senior Reporter for African
Newspapers of Nigeria (publisher of Nigerian Tribune titles) in
Lagos for two years. He taught in the Department of European
Studies, University of Ibadan, and taught Russian literature and
culture in the Department of European Languages, University of
Lagos. He currently teaches in the Department of Creative Arts, and
is the Secretary of the Academic Staff Union of Universities
(ASUU), University of Lagos, Nigeria.

Gladys Akunna (Nnamdi Azikiwe University)

Gladys Akunna is a dance scholar with a pioneering spirit. She
studied the arts of the theatre at the University of Ilorin, Nigeria and
the University of Ibadan, Nigeria, where she obtained her BA and
MA degrees respectively. After graduating, she taught dance in some
Nigeria universities, where she has focused on performance modes
and practices in African dance forms in her teaching and research.
Gladys has become increasingly interested in dance medicine and is
at present carrying out pioneering PhD research on dance movement
therapy in Nigeria. Her research holds the promise of enhancing the
scientific understanding of dance as complementary therapy in a
context where we are yet to see Dance Movement Psychotherapist
registration and professional bodies.

Awo Asiedu (University of Ghana)

Awo Mana Asiedu is a Senior Lecturer in the Department of Theatre
Arts at the University of Ghana. After her first and second degrees
from the University of Ghana in Theatre Arts, and English and Adult
Education respectively, she obtained a PhD from the University of
Birmingham, UK in Theatre Arts in 2003. Her research interests
include audience reception of theatre, African dramatic literature and
performance, particularly as they relate to/interact with other theatre
470 NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS

forms such as Asian and European. She is also interested in the uses
of theatre apart from entertainment. Her most recent publication is an
essay on “Making Use of the Stage in West Africa: The Role of
Audiences in the Production of Efficacious Theatre”, which appeared
in Studies in Theatre and Performance (2008, 28(3): 223-236).

Petrus du Preez (University of Stellenbosch)

Petrus du Preez is a Senior Lecturer at the Drama Department of
Stellenbosch University, where he received his doctorate in 2007. He
is also the co-editor of the South African Theatre Journal and has
published various articles on South African theatre and theatre
makers. Petrus is an actor, director and writer for the theatre and
television in South Africa. He is also a puppeteer, but he specializes
as a comedy actor and has performed at all the major arts festivals in
South Africa.

Patrick Ebewo (Tshwane University of Technology)

Patrick Ebewo is Professor and Head of the Department of Drama
and Film Studies, Tshwane University of Technology, Republic of
South Africa. He studied Theatre Arts at the University of Ibadan and
the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, USA. He has taught at
universities in Nigeria, Lesotho, Swaziland and Botswana. Professor
Ebewo is an active researcher in the areas of African theatre,
development communication, culture, film and folklore. He has
published books, edited volumes, and has numerous articles in
journals and books. He has written plays, published poems and read
several papers at international and local conferences/seminars.
Ebewo is a member of the International Federation of Theatre
Researchers (African Theatre Working Group), Society of Nigerian
Theatre Artists, Association for Rhetoric and Communication in
Southern Africa, and Nigerian Folklore Society.

Osita Ezenwanebe (University of Lagos)

Osita Ezenwanebe is a Senior Lecturer in the Department of Creative
Arts, University of Lagos, Nigeria and Fulbright Scholar-in-
Residence at Winston-Salem State University, North Carolina, USA
(2011/2012). She holds a BA(Ed) in English Education, an MA in
English Literature (Drama and Society), an MA in English Language
(‘New Englishes’) and a PhD in English (Drama and Society), all
from the University of Lagos. Ezenwanebe teaches drama and theatre
history, theory and criticism as well as effective communication and
 NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS 471

research methodology to both undergraduate and postgraduate

students at the Department of Creative Arts (Theatre), University of
Lagos. She is the departmental coordinator of the postgraduate
programmes at the same university. Osita Ezenwanebe has published
three books: Drills and Exercises in English Pronunciation (2001),
English for Effective Business Communication (2004) and
Communicative English for Tertiary Institution (2000). She has
written and produced three stage plays: Withered Thrust (2007),
which won the 22nd Play Reading Session of Nigerian National
Theatre and was published by the University Press in 2007; Giddy
Festival (2009) and an African ‘Womanist’ play The Dawn of Full
Moon (2009), as well as two one-act plays The Champion’s Story
(2006) and The Kinibe’s Day (2005). She has published several
articles in national and international peer-reviewed journals,
including “Feminist Consciousness and Nigerian Theatre” (Journal
of Consciousness, Literature, Theatre and the Arts) and “Trauma and
the Art of Dramatising History” (African Performance Review). Her
current research interest is in African drama and society, psycho-
drama and gender theory.

Vibeke Glørstad (Molde University College)

Vibeke Glørstad is a sociologist teaching at Molde University
College, Norway in the Department of Health and Social Studies.
She has worked in Zimbabwe on several occasions. Her Master’s
thesis was entitled “Narratives of Identity and Nation in Zimbabwean
community theatre” (2005), which highlighted how two main theatre
companies voiced their criticism of the regime in Zimbabwe. She has
also published on the same topic in the Norwegian Journal of
Migration (“Challenging Identity in Zimbabwean theatre” (2007)).

Temple Hauptfleisch (University of Stellenbosch)

Temple Hauptfleisch is a researcher and Emeritus Professor of
Drama and Theatre Studies at the University of Stellenbosch, South
Africa. Positions held include head of the Centre for SA Theatre
Research (CESAT – 1979-1987), Chair of the University of
Stellenbosch Drama Department (1995-2005) and director of the
Centre for Theatre and Performance Studies at Stellenbosch (1994-
2009). He is the founder-editor and publisher of the South African
Theatre Journal (1987- ). He has published more than eighty works
on the history of South African theatre, research methodology and
the sociology of theatre. He was a member of the IFTR executive
472 NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS

from 1998 to 2006 and is a founder-member of the IFTR Working

Group on African Theatre and Performance.

Kene Igweonu (Swansea Metropolitan University)

Kene Igweonu is the founding Convener of the African Theatre and
Performance Working Group. He holds a PhD in Drama and Theatre
from Royal Holloway, University of London. Kene Igweonu is
Coordinator of the Centre for Innovative Performance Practice and
Research at Swansea Metropolitan University, where he lectures in
the Performing Arts Department. He is a member of the editorial
board of African Performance Review – APR, and an editorial
consultant for the South African Theatre Journal – SATJ. He was
founding editor and editorial advisory board member for Platform,
Royal Holloway, the University of London's journal of theatre and
performing arts, and editor of Perfformio, Swansea Metropolitan
University eJournal of performing.

Ola Johansson (Stockholm Academy of Dramatic Arts)

Ola Johansson is Visiting Professor at Stockholm Academy of
Dramatic Arts, Sweden. His latest book is Community Theatre and
AIDS (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011). Johansson’s
research in Africa, with a special focus on Tanzania, involves studies
in performance, ethnography and epidemiology. He is also the author
of Performance and Philosophy: Interdisciplinary Approaches to the
Performing Arts (Saarbrücken: VDM Verlag, 2008).

Alude Mahali (University of Cape Town)

Alude Mahali holds a BA (Combined Honours) in Drama from
Rhodes University and an MA in Theatre Making from the
University of Cape Town. She is currently enrolled for PhD study in
Performance Studies at the University of Cape Town. Her research
and particularly her performance interests lie largely in issues of
black girlhood/womanhood, nostalgia, memory, vocality and
displacement. In addition to being a burgeoning academic, Alude is
also an ardent performer, having collaborated with numerous local
and international artists at festivals in South Africa and Holland. She
has also performed in Cape Town – her current place of residence –
on the stage, in film, at several festivals and exhibitions. Alude is
currently spending a year at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor
as a visiting research scholar.
 NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS 473

Jeleel O. Ojuade (University of Ilorin)

Jeleel O. Ojuade is a lecturer in dance at the Performing Arts
Department, University of Ilorin. He is an expert dancer who focuses
on indigenous Bàtá and Dùndún dances of the Yoruba. He holds a
BA (Hons) in Performing Arts, an MA in African Studies (Dance
specialisation), an LLB (Hons) Common Law, an MBA in Business
Administration, and a PhD in Dance. He is a member of various local
and international organizations including the Association of
Professional Negotiators and Mediators (APNM), the International
Dance Council, CID-UNESCO and the Society of Dance History
Scholars (SDHS).

Samuel Ravengai (University of Zimbabwe)

Samuel Ravengai is a doctoral candidate in South Africa in the
Drama Department at the University of Cape Town and is a member
of IFTR, where he works closely with the African Theatre and
Performance (AT&P) Working Group, of which he is one of the
founding members. He is particularly interested in the
interconnection of race, nation, empire, migration and ethnicity with
cultural production. Samuel Ravengai’s most recent publications
appear in African Theatre Journal as well as African Identities
Journal. He has contributed book chapters to various volumes and
presented papers at various international conferences. Apart from
conducting research, he is a director and lecturer in drama and theatre
at the University of Zimbabwe, but is currently on study leave.

Vicensia Shule (University of Dar es Salaam)

Apart from teaching theatre, Vicensia Shule (DPhil) also conducts
research on theatre and film. Her areas of interest include the political
economy of theatre and dramaturgy. As an actor and director, she has
also participated in the production of various plays and films. She is a
regular writer on trends of theatre and film practices in Tanzania as
well as being a renowned scriptwriter for radio and television
programmes.

Ngozi Udengwu (University of Nigeria)

Ngozi Udengwu is a Senior Lecturer in the Department of Theatre
and Film Studies, University of Nigeria, Nsukka. She holds a PhD in
Theatre Arts from the University of Ibadan, Nigeria and teaches a
wide range of theatre courses, including Theories of the Modern
Theatre, Third World Drama and Theatre, Topics in Theatre Studies,
474 NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS

Children’s Theatre Education, Theatre History, Readings in Dramatic

Literature, Major Directors and their Ideas, and a host of others. She
has presented many conference papers both nationally and
internationally, and has contributed journal articles and book chapters
in mainline journals and books.

Chris Ugolo (University of Benin)

Chris Ugolo is an Associate Professor in Dance at the Department of
Theatre Arts and Mass Communication, University of Benin, Benin-
City, Nigeria. He has a BA degree in Theatre Arts from the
University of Benin, an MA in Dance Studies from the University of
Surrey, Guildford, England and a PhD in African Dance from the
University of Ibadan, Ibadan, Nigeria. He has lectured at the
Universities of Ilorin, Abuja and Delta State University, Abraka. He
has published articles in local and international journals and his
research interest is on national choreographic style. Chris Ugolo is a
member of many professional bodies including the Society of Nigeria
Theatre Artists (SONTA), Nigeria Popular Theatre Alliance (NPTA)
and International Dance Council, CID- UNESCO.

Johann van Heerden (Independent Scholar)

Johann van Heerden is a former drama lecturer, stage and film actor,
and director. Trained as an actor, he taught theory, acting and
directing at the University of Stellenbosch for 20 years. In 1988 he
joined Franz Marx Films as a film producer and later moved on to
become a senior manager in the MNet commercial television network
based in Johannesburg. On his retirement he returned to academia to
complete a DPhil degree in Drama at the University of Stellenbosch,
focusing on post-apartheid South African theatre from 1994 to 2006.

Praise Zenenga (University of Arizona)

Praise Zenenga holds an interdisciplinary PhD in Theatre and Drama
from Northwestern University and teaches in the Africana Studies
Program at the University of Arizona at Tucson. Teaching and
research areas include African Theatre and Dance Aesthetics, and
Theatre for Social Change and Development. He has published
numerous book chapters and articles in refereed journals in his areas
of expertise ranging from masculinities, avant-gardism, hit-and-run
theatre to censorship in Zimbabwean theatre and performance.