Perhaps the most astonishing thing about Emandulo is that is was devised and directed by an American, Thomas Riccio, on his first visit to South Africa. Despite, or perhaps because of that, he has managed to create a show that penetrates to the unconscious core of the sub-continent proving Sir Thomas Browne's dictum that "we carry within us the wonders we seek without us; there is all Africa and her prodigies within us."

NAPAC is to be saluted for bringing someone of Riccio's caliber and commitment to South Africa. I recommend you drop you defenses and let yourself have an extraordinary experience.

The Natal Witness, Durban, South Africa

 

EMANDULO

Process and performance in a changing South Africa

Into Performance

The rehearsal period, which included all of the personal, social-cultural, and performance explorations, had to come to an end. The lack of time and the coming necessity of public presentation required the shaping of the material. The Creative Group methodology had served the performance development process well and presented me with volumes of raw material from which to edited a performance. By the time of the first run through a new story, which was our story, was there of all of the ensemble to see; detail and definition of scenes would be the next focus of attention. Every scene had been worked and seen in the run through except one--the last.

We had talked about the last scene: when the Warriors had their fill and the battered cow part/bodies were left to hang or lay. When we performed it however, the psycho-physical action of holding and carrying the desecrated, inert bodies of young Zulus to be lined side-by-side to be mourned evoked an immediate and very real sense of grieving. With this scene the artifice of performance was ruptured and a reality that many had known too well laid side-by-side with the performance. The performance started with an Everyman being pulled into his Zulu mythology. The performance followed a path of myth, from the origins of the Zulu cosmos, to the creating of the land/Umshayandlela, then to its habitation and befriending by Fana, and then to its possession and abuse. The metaphoric significance of the performance accumulating until it abruptly ceased to be theater, suddenly transforming into reality, with its story line remaining continuous.

The death scene, the mourning song and the subsequent song imploring resurrection became was like a synapse, a climactic bridge between performance and reality; Emandulo's subsequent public performances only made this synapses stronger. The performance's metaphoric mourning became a public mourning, and without consciously working for it the performance had organically found a catharsis. It was for me the first time that I truly understood--in my mind and body--its function and purpose in life and in performance. The acceptance of Umshayandlela's death was followed by the imploring demand of Fana: "Woza, Umshayandlela! Woza!" Umshayandlela rose again into a celebration of re-birth, demonstrating the release of a past and the hope for a healed South Africa.

Into the Theatre

On the next day we moved into our performance space, the Loft Theatre, a 200 seat black box theatre. The seating was arranged in the round as to best convey the sense of community and traditional performance. To compliment the feel of community, comfort, and intimacy, and to avoid the implied structured formality of chairs, the first two rows of the seating platforms were laid with Zulu grass mats. The stage area was laid thick with dry grass and leaves--typical of rural Zululand.

Though a large production staff had been assigned to Emandulo many production elements had been left undone at the time of move-in--much of the work and production organization falling on the shoulders of the talented and dedicated set and costume designer, Andrew Donald. NAPAC was after all a state run bureaucracy with many meetings, much paperwork, and countless departments with people called "Organizers". But it all seemed like a facade of normalcy from a bygone time when the life and times of South Africa had a very different order. "Things at NAPAC are just like things in South Africa, everything is slowly falling apart" commented Jennifer Woodburne as a matter of fact at my dismay about the production organization.

Morale among the general staff at NAPAC was running very low. More cutbacks were rumored, meetings were held to allay employee fears that NAPAC was closing and the black workers were planning a work "stay away" in protest of low wages. That first day in the theatre some Kwasa actors were late because of renewed violence and road blocks in their townships; walking to the theatre I watch a thousand or so Zulus demonstrating and doing "toi toi" warrior chants down a main business street. A protest of the slow, divisive progress of those working for a new constitution. The tropical heat added to a "on edge" atmosphere from which the theatre was not immune.

At our group costume fitting, Andrew Donald remained patient when overwhelmed by some very vocal protest--lead by Tiki our musical director--against women wearing a traditional Zulu "beshu" (a cow skinned waist covering).

Female Body as Political Battlefield

Another costume controversy arose over which of the women should go topless. Unmarried Zulu women were at ease with the prospect, it being a widely accepted traditionally practice. However, the white women playing the Shades had several doubts and could not reach a consensus. It was agreed that all had to go topless (wearing body paint and clay) or none at all. The concern was how the bare breast of white women might sensationalize and detract from the intent of the performance. The bare breast of white women in public was viewed as a political issue.

The white female body had been historically claimed as sacred and protected since the arrival of the first white female Calvinist that colonized South Africa. Some popular theories about the development and institutionalizing of racism in South Africa suggest that motivation was rooted in the need to separate and protect white women from black men. The evolution of segregation and subsequent apartheid laws running parallel to the increase of white women and hence the need to forestall the potential of a white woman-black man encounters. This paradigm of segregation for their own protection played into the hands of white men and conveniently re-enforced a Calvinsitcally inspired sexism that afforded white men a clearly defined and socially confirmed role of dominating protector.

Racism and the laws of apartheid defined the roles of both blacks and white women securing white male autonomy and authority in both domestic and public realms. Until 1992 only suggestive soft porn (no bare breast) was legally permitted in South Africa in either printed or film/video form. Ultimately the Shade women felt that expression of the white female body was worthy fight but would muddy the intent and expression of Emandulo. Only Norah Msani, the Zulu woman playing the head of Umshayandlela would go bare breasted during the performance; her bare breast not being politically controversial and, given her role, symbolic.

"Why things must change"

The controversy over the women wearing traditional "beshus", developed, unfortunately, into a an issue of power. Both the costume designer and myself had seen the discussion, though heated, as continuous with our process and were confident that the issue would work its way to a solution. However, production personnel not familiar to our working methods and sensing conflict in the fact that blacks were voicing strong disagreement with a white designer and director, told the administration.

Being overtly sensitive to the potential of any conflict, a NAPAC administrator made an appearance the next day requesting to speak to the actors; I had no idea about what he was going to say to say. I gave him the floor and he immediately insisted that the actors sit like school children, grouped before him, (whereas I had invited them to sit on all four sides to understand working in the round). Then like a pedantic school teacher he scolded the ensemble, talking at them, warning them that they must obey the dictates of the director and designer: "Any future lack of discipline or respect will be reported to me and I can assure you will not be tolerated." When he left it was as if a wet blanket had been thrown over the group.

I apologized for what he had said as did Andrew Donald, explaining that we knew nothing and did not ask him to say what he said. All of the cultivated trust and confidence and all of the collective, creative exploring of the last five and a half weeks seemed to be called into question. The group was hurt, Tiki, insulted, stormed out not to be seen for the rest of the day; there was much anger and sense of powerlessness. It was as if I had been feeding the group with the illusion of false hopes, that things could be different, but really, they were the same. I asked the group to say what they were feeling.

Ivan Lucas, an outspoken, colored Loft member playing the Lord of the Sky said: "This just goes to prove that no matter how much NAPAC pretends to support groups like Kwasa and things like Emandulo, they still have the power and will let you know about it. They treat us like children because that is what they think we are. You have to do things their way, you have to obey their rules, because they are incapable of seeing it any other way. I look at him and I think of how the old South Africa must go. He is a symbol of why things must change."

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Emandulo: Process and Performance in a Changing South Africa