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LITOOMA
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There is a unique crystal-like clarity and gentle freshness that characterizes the winter sky of southern Africa. Its sharp blue providing a perfect backdrop for the colorful mosaic of colorful clothing dotted with beautiful black faces. We were in Kitwe the heart of Zambia's "Copperbelt," formerly the world's most productive copper, zinc, and tin mines until the bottom fell out of the international metals in the early 1980's and first world countries started using laser optics instead of copper. Since then the Copperbelt Province, as the rest of Zambia, has been tail spinning in a whirl of foreign debt, inflation, unemployment, abject poverty, tribal in-fighting, and government corruption.
The Land Cruiser pulled behind our "stage box" to provide both backdrop and a backstage for our performance. Timothy Mugala, Lenard, Milimo, and Jerry Jmuale who were drumming in a sweat at the box and nodded happily. At the center of the circle was shirtless Peter Piri who was entertaining the audience with his traditional comic dances. Though from the Bemba tribe, Peter knew scores of traditional dances from many different tribes; he was presenting an impromptu, sometimes bawdy, crowd pleasing warm-up to fill the time. The audience followed every move of his torso and stomach as he rotated and punctuated the syncopating drum rhythms with his astounding isolations.
As we jumped out of the white Land Cruiser, hundreds of children, like curious but cautious bees, gathered around us. Micke Renlund, the Finish producer of our performance and I were the probably the only "musungus," white men, in the radius of miles. Our presence, along with the performance preparations, was creating a big stir and much curiosity.
As the remaining performers we brought with us prepared for performance, Light Musonda, a small smiling man with a Buddha-like disposition, our stage manager, greeted us with a traditional bow of the head and touching of his heart. We did the same. Opening his ever present notebook he informed Micke and I of the situation and our state of preparedness. We had learned from our previous performing experiences that presenting an hour and a half performance in a found outdoor space in Zambia had to have military-like organization in order to be successful. Delays, complications, and anything-else-that-can-wrong-will, were common and seemingly inevitable. Nothing ever worked according to plan and the strangest, most unexpected things always came up. Doing outdoor theater in Africa has its own mysterious laws and characteristics. I had learned the hard way: Be prepared for the worst, hope for the best, refuse upset, accept and appreciate the potential of the ever fluctuating givens, and most importantly--improvise. That is how Africa itself works--and survives.
The children stood wide-eyed staring up at me like I was some space alien. When I wasn't looking, some children ventured to touch my white arms, giggling with the novelty of my strangeness. For many they were seeing their first white man, and if not their first, the first they were able to touch. My white skin is in black Africa a contradictory and charged symbol of all and any emotion that can fit between what is feared and what is aspired to, and what is hated to what is envied. My white skin represents all that has historically terrorized black Africa, yet conversely now is looked to as a hope of survival.
Children were everywhere, they are truly a unique race of their own. Sweet friendly faces curious, mischievous, and alive. It was for them we did our performance. Not that Imipashi was a children's show as much as it was a re-affirmation of the life and hopes they were so full of. A performance that spoke to the innocence in us all.
Light explained that everything was ready to go. Joshua Muyambo, one of our puppet makers was on "circle patrol" wearing his policeman's cap and carrying his large stick. His job was to organize and maintain our performance circle. His stick, along with his policeman's cap, were well-established symbolis of authority. Two local men had been interviewed and hired for 100 Kwacha each (20 cents) to help Joshua maintain the circle. They were given policemen's hats too, but instead of sticks, long cardboard tubing to make sure they would not take their job too seriously.
Establishing and maintaining the circle was primary, for much of our audience had never seen such a theatrical performance before and would be uncertain about the extent of their participation. Our performance included a number of tribal dances and audience members often wanted to actively participate--which was fine to an extent. However, lacking a known, pre-established sequence of events (as is the case with traditional performance) the circle was all we had to maintain order. Often times, as the show began the audience would multiply to up to three thousand people with those in the back pressing forward to see better. An orderly circle was essential for the protection of the first four rows of seated children. Vivid in our mind was the hard lesson from one of our first performances, at Kaunda Square, a 'compound' (village-like district) in Lusaka. As the crowds gathered there the circle grew tight around the performance and almost swallowed us whole. Small children had been stepped on and people started shoving, pushing, crying, and screaming. We found ourselves helpless and in a sea of a few thousand people and I will never forget how the crowd instincts of curiosity developed into panic, then escalated into a survival frenzy. Maintaining the circle was our responsibility and an issue of public safety.
Our performance of Imipashi, which means "the spirits" in Bemba, was evolved from the Litooma Project, a three month program of workshops, performance development, and touring. The idea and ambition of the Litooma Project was unlike anything Zambia had seen before. It was a first-ever national theatre project, bringing together performers from tribes (who were sometimes rival) from all over Zambia. What evolved was Imipashi, an allegory inspired by a well-known Lozi myth, tracing the journey of the Zambian people from creation to the corruption of present day nationhood. Never had such a "national" theatre project ever been attempted.
The idea and objectives for the project also struck a cord with a wide array of funders contributing to the project: the USIS; the British Council; Finnita, Finish Development Aid; SIDA, Swedish Economic Development Organization; NORAD, Norwegian Overseas Development; the Embassy of the Netherlands; and FVS, the Finish Volunteer Service, Mickes generous employer and host of the project. The Zambian Department of Cultural Services contributed the equal of nearly $1000, the largest amount they ever gave to a single art project. The three week workshop, six week rehearsal and development, and four week performance tour, was budgeted at $28,000. An unheard of and unprecedented amount for a performance in a country where the average wage is 40,000 to 80,000 Kwacha per month ($35 to $75.) It was the first nation wide performance project ever initiated in Zambia. The project created much discussion and anticipation--what performance should always do--but with opportunity came the sharpened double edge of responsibility.
A Finish actor and an American director from Alaska--two white guys--made idealistic plans for assisting Zambian performance in a way they deemed necessary. What a strange and unpredictable place the world of the late 20th century has become, bringing unlikely people by chance to unlikely places to do unheard of things. Familiar fears of being presumptuous, meddlesome outsiders, and nothing more than a sophisticated and subtle new wave of cultural imperialist gnawed at my thoughts when we began the project. There was however, as with my other projects with indigenous people, a sense of responsibility to respond and assist where I can. There is a need to do something meaningful and lasting. Being a white man with the advantage of education, opportunity, and resources is a power to be used or abused. Or it can simply lie fallow.
Light and Micke had arrived hours before and had positioned the performance across the dusty street from the Kitwe market, an ideal setting. I had arrived late because we had only one vehicle and had make three trips to shuttle people from Copperbelt University, where we had spent the night in dilapidated dormitories, to the performance site. We had been promised a bus for this part of our tour, but when we arrived at the University of Zambia in Lusaka to retrieve the bus we were met by several machine gun toting military men. The government had shut down the University after a long running dispute between faculty and administration had come to a head. All the faculty, including those with tenure, were fired. Set back but undaunted by the sudden turn of events the majority of the cast traveled, for five hours on commuter buses, to Kitwe. The props, costumes, Micke and I (the only two licensed drivers), and five cast members stuffed, piled on, and comically over loaded the Land Cruiser and drove to Kitwe. The road we drove was notorious for its anything-goes-driving, car jackings and murder, drug running, and smuggling of stolen goods. It is the major highway through Zambia connecting Tanzania in the north to Zimbabwe and then South Africa to the south. It is a road also known for prostitution with women crowding the waysides and truck stops. Prostitution is so widespread, forced mainly by poverty, the road is known as the "AIDS Highway;" truck drivers are blamed for the rapid spreading of the disease throughout the region.
The location for the performance was perfect: in an open field across from the market. The Kitwe market was the center of the town's daily social and commercial activity. The open air market, thick with shanty stalls of weathered wood, was protected from the sun by a sea of colorful material. The market was a warren of narrow, labyrinth-like passages, where vendors sell fruits, vegetables, oils, maize, dried fish, housewares, auto parts, and used clothing donated by first world charitable organizations. The market was the best place to draw an audience and would be where with a nod, Light Musonda sent several of our "Spirit Performers"--the performance had begun.
Four groups of two performers each, went to the market, two groups went to a housing area, and two to a nearby area full of textile shops. The masked Spirit Performers had developed a repertory of performance sketches, songs, and comic routines to disrupt daily activity and invite audiences to our performance circle. The idea, inspired by several different festivals and ceremonial events indigenous to Zambia, served to announce our performance as an event similar to a festival or traditional ceremony. It was also an exciting way to draw in a larger audience--we stirred up the community and generated much excitement. It was a device I had used with great success while working with the Zulus in South Africa. [1] It gave me a special delight to sit in the circle with the children watching their expressions as they heard screams of delight and surprise coming from the distance. The Spirit Performers had made contact and the air became charged with anticipation.
Within moments the drummers began and the circle came to life. Our drummers were amongst the best in the country and their poly-rhythmic precision riveted attention and stirred emotion. The drummers, led by Peter Piri, included Tyford Bilma, Jerry Jmuale, Timothy Hugala, Lenard Milimo, and Fraxton Phiri. Some had worked together for years and all were trained in their respective tribal drumming traditions since childhood; they would provide the drumming (using a variety of different drums including marimbas) throughout the performance. Their sound was tight, detailed and transporting. They lived to play and knew how to please their audience.
Once the drumming started George Daka, a tall delicate man and leader of the respected University dance company, did an invocation at the center of the circle. Speaking like a diviner, his calls were punctuated by his rattle and the ecstatic calls of his "helper," Martha Kamilo. Using the well-known performance vernacular of a traditional healer, he effectively established a sacred circle, the traditional-mythological-spiritual frame from which the performance would refer and flow. With maize (corn meal, the staple food of Africa) George outlined the performance circle, then with water and a tail switch he blessed and prepared the audience. All the while Martha, danced and called simultaneously in support and in her own ecstasy. They were preparing the circle for the arrival of the Spirits, and like the many initiations still very much a part of traditional Zambia, the circle was where the community would observe and share its mythology. The circle was a place where the magic of performance would bring together the human and mythological to retell and reaffirm deep seated values, order, and beliefs.
Going to the center, George went through the motions of lighting a fire, for when we had performed at night that is actually what he did. For our night performances we used cans cut in half, full of diesel fuel and placed at the center and perimeter of the circle. In daylight the gesture of lighting a fire was quickly recognized--it was what people did or saw each day. With the fire the Cone People emerged from their hiding and rushed into the circle spinning, dancing, and threatening to collide into the audience, sending children screaming and scattering excitedly. They had never seen anything like these spinning, playful, and spirit-crazy creatures.
The four Cone People (as we came to call them), represented the carnal directions and elements, and were festooned with corn cobs, and vividly painted by the performers. Inspired by the Makishi masquerade dancers performed by the Luvale, Luchazi, Chokwe and Mbunda people of northwestern Zambia, the Cones were likewise full bodied and had only eye and arm holes. Made of wood, wire, and canvas, they were a group invention equally inspired by the Makishi tradition and the corn field next to one of our rehearsal locations. One late afternoon the performers were asked to develop an improvisation based on the Spirits of the corn field. After forty-five minutes in the tall stalks about thirty performers emerged adorned with husks, stalks, leaves, and even earth. The shadows of the setting sun combined with their sounds and movement to create a very unearthly scene that sent the children watching the rehearsal running in screams terror. We knew then a place in the performance had to be found for the Cone People.
The Cones gathered around the fire at center dancing with George as to identify their relationship with him, then spun out of center to play their drums. Their drumming called the distant Spirits, who within moments came running into the circle, through the audience and from every direction. Dancing with happy anarchy the sixteen masked performers were both a shock and delight for audience members. Like pied pipers they brought with them hundreds of people to join the audience. The Spirits had taken people from their daily routines and gathered them to tell their story.
The Cones, like the Spirits, were incarnations of ideas still very much alive in traditional Zambian beliefs; they are what motivate the actions of the "seen" world. The Spirits, true to their tribal mythology, were either mischief makers, ancestors, fearful, vengeful, unpredictable, or kindly. The ideas and actions of the Spirits evolved through discussion, improvisation, and culling from existing traditional dance motifs. Because of the importance and tribal identification with animals in Zambian traditional cultures, each of the Spirits associated with a specific animal. Some of the animals were tribally significant, others less so. The animal associations however, where what guided and shaped the actions, interactions, and attitudes of the Spirits and their subsequent characters. These animals included: monkey, leopard, elephant, crocodile, snake, rat, lion, impalas, hare, and tortoise. The performer's animal association also influenced their mask and totem puppet design.
The Cones, Spirits, and the sudden increase in audience numbers, built an excitement and set a tone for the performance. The coming together was not, however, for a traditional ritual performance, but rather a theatre performance that applied the vocabulary of traditional ritual and ceremony. It was a multi-tribal event, melding traditional performance into something new. Imipashi would speak in a familiar performance language and in a mythological context to address contemporary issues--the modern world as seen from a traditional vantage. Within the circle the story of Zambia, a modern nation state of many tribes, would be played out. The sacred circle, like its tribal ritual models, was where the reimagining of their world could take place.
Zambia, one of the worlds largest per capita recipients of foreign aid, is heavily in debt to foreign banks, has a steadily climbing inflation rate and ever declining currency value, making it one of the poorest countries on earth. Zambia, in the mind of the West, might as well be any number of other African countries that conjure up the idea "Africa," a vague country continent, simultaneously exotic, complex, and miserable. And like the rest of Africa, Zambia is suffering from post-colonial trauma only to realize it is still a colony -- still at the bottom of capitalism's food chain, scurrying to survive on the crumbs of Western and Japanese foreign aid and loans.
Zambia is a nation created from the imagination of politicians, businessmen, and far away powers. Except for the Zambesi river to the south, Zambia's boundaries reflect not geographic or tribal demarcations, but rather the legacy of a colonial manipulation. Winning its independence in 1964 transformed Northern Rhodesia, a British work colony, into one of the first self-ruled African states. However, the seventy-three tribal groups inhabiting the country, Zambia has never fully realized the idea of united, Western style nationhood. The wide diversity of customs, traditions, and languages that lend Zambia its unique and vivid character is also the knotty root of its problems. Deep seated inter-tribal antagonisms, fueled by a long history of numerous territorial conflict, many from dating before first contact with whites, do not make for the infrastructure of a modern political state.
Today the antagonisms of the past are a prelude to the political, economic, and cultural suspicions and prejudice of today. Kenneth Kaunda, the president of Zambia from 1964 to 1992, attempted to unify the nation with socialist policy and by down playing tribalism. The conflict between tribalism and nationhood is not unique to Zambia, however it remains poorly understood in the West. Somehow, however, the predicament of Zambia has not lead to the war and terrorism that has savaged places like Rwanda, Haiti, Afghanistan, Cambodia, Somalia, Angola, and the former Yugoslavia.
Corruption, disorganization, and mismanagement have burdened Zambia with a bloated and inefficient bureaucracy, horrendous to non-existent public services, high prices and taxes. Several ministers were convicted or implicated in a number of crimes in 1993. The crimes included: international drug trafficking, money laundering, bribery, kick-back scams, and corruption scandals. It was common to see rows of BMWs and Mercedes Benz parked outside the mansions of high ranking government officials who supposedly have an annual income equal to $40,000 a year. A testament to corruption, re-directed foreign aid, and moral collapse.
To drive through the pot holed streets of Lusaka, the capital of Zambia, is to drive though a maze of streets lined with cinder block walls erected to shield homes from rampant crime. Like a futuristic nightmare, broken glass and razor wire top the walls. Large metal gates, guards, and dogs are the norm; every house window has bars, every door a metal gate. Lusaka is like an armed camp with only a thin line somehow preventing its total social breakdown.
How and why does someone like myself fit into such a setting? The confluences of history, race, politics, economics, and cultures often find manifestation in performance. That is at the core of the work I do. My work organizes an event using performance as technology by which to examine self and cultural-economic-political-social predicament. It is a event that asks the participants to take stock in themselves and their resources. It asks them to step out, however slightly, from the flow of modern time and space to regain a deeper and older resource. I begin with questions to provoke other questions all in the search for a few answers. The work has no pre-imposed agenda; the work manifests itself and I serve as provocateur and guide. If there is any pre-determined goal it is this: to leave behind the awareness of method, process, and possibility. It is from this that I derive meaning and satisfaction.
The Spirits settled into a large circle around George singing a song of appreciation--a traditional song from the Tonga tribe. Bowed to the ground, the Spirits sang as the cones and Martha went to George with a twelve foot high puppet. Entering the puppet George became Nyambe, the creator. Though inspired by a myth of the Lozi people, Nyambe, however, bore a similarity to a number of Zambia's tribal origin myths; the representation rather than the detail of Nyambe was what attracted us. Important too, was the ritual act of witnessing: to see how a human performer becomes diviner then a god. With George's transformation came the time of myth. Nyambe, the creator, came amongst us, and like a ritual would reiterate and reaffirm deeply seated beliefs.
The Spirits circled Nyambe as the Cone People returned to their drums, continuing the heartbeat that would underlie the performance. Nyambe's presence brought order to the formerly dis-orderly spirits. Then he gave them an identity. With the arms and head of the Nyambe puppet controlled by its operator, the animated god "gave" each of the Spirits their tribal identity. Not able to present all of Zambia's seventy-three tribes, we instead presented the most representative tribes. The tribe and the performers respective tribes being:
Martin Chisulo-Luvale
Meriam Inambao-Lozi
Mary Manzole-Tonga
Lenard Milimo-Lala
Catherine Musonda-Bemba
Joseph Malisau-Tembuka
Laiza Phiri-Senga
Tyford Bilma-Ngoni
Peter Mulenga-Lenge
Benne Banda-Chewa
Falvia Ranzoni-whites
Linda Enriquez-Meyer-east Indian
Two white women participated in the workshops and performance--Italian-South African Flavia Ranzoni, and Mexican-American Linda Enriquez-Meyers--and like the others Nyambe gave them tribal identities. [2] Flavia, a non-actor traveling in Zambia, became interested in the work, asked to join, and was accepted by the group. Linda, the wife of a US Embassy physician, had been doing theatre work in Lusaka and likewise became a welcomed addition to the workshop and performance. The two white women along with Micke and myself brought a creative and cultural exchange to the work. Whites and east Indians in Zambia comprise less than 2% of the total population making our presence and work, especially creative work, with the group very much out of the norm. Our participation also had the effect of making the Zambians more aware of the inter-tribal prejudices they had taken for granted; the presence of foreigner with very different cultural ways, also forced them to see themselves not as tribal representations but rather as sharing a Zambian identity. Working with whites required the Zambian participants to show and so appreciate more acutely what they as a group had to offer. They could not assume we whites knew something, and instead had to explain and demonstrate dances, cultural references, mythology, history, and lifestyles. In so doing they identified and objectified the value of their knowledge. This is precisely what the project had hoped to achieve and build upon: to identify, explore, and express their collective cultures. Having whites participate in their culture on their terms, was also a significant sociological and psychological step towards cultural and personal empowerment, self-worth, and esteem. This fact did not go unnoticed publicly and added a specialness to the event. Prominently identified was the participation of an American, Finn, and Italian, as were the words 'multi-cultural,' 'international,' and 'multi-racial,' in newspaper, television and radio reporting about the workshops and performance.
To address the subtle inter-tribal antagonisms, some performers were deliberately assigned the tribal dance of a traditional rival to perform. Initially this caused some grumbling and some insensitive 'correcting' by those from whose tribe was being danced, eventually however a sense of ensemble sharing and teaching evolved. I this instance, as in others, I took advantage of my being an outsider by asking them to do things no insider could nor would even think of asking. By dancing the dances of another tribe, boundaries were broken and performers expanded their performance vocabulary while gaining insight and appreciation for other tribal ways. Dance sharing established a paradigm and attitude that would guide the workshop and performance process: traditional performance was a language accessible to all and not something limited to tribal identity. This porous passing back-and-forth between tribal cultures and performers was seen as a source of strength.
When Nyambe gave the each individual tribal its identity, the chosen would perform that tribe's distinct dance. Fellow performers would clap, drum, and sing in accompaniment--often times evoking the audience to do likewise. The performance of the tribes also brought dances to parts of the country that otherwise had no direct experience with the tribe it represented. The disparate tribal dances, given to the tribes in performance by a single creator figure, resonated with political, cultural, and cosmological allegory. Seeing the dances of sometimes rival tribes being sung and danced along side of one another symbolically demonstrated to our audience that the wealth of traditional Zambian culture was a co-habitating whole rather than separate entities.
The idea for the Litooma Project originated in Finland at the Tampere International Theatre Festival, August 1993. In attendance at my lecture presentation was Idalotta Backman and Micke Renlund, two Finish theatre artists and cultural workers. Micke worked for the FVS in Lusaka--the Finish Volunteer Service (the Finish equivalent to the Peace Corps)--and was assigned to work with the Department of Cultural Services, a Zambian government agency. During his three years in Zambia he had developed the National Theatre Resource Project, organizing and conducting theatre training programs throughout the country. He also facilitated the monumental task of documenting traditional ceremonies and rituals.
A professional actor in Finland prior to his work with FVS, the stocky and pony-tailed Micke Renlund exuded boundless idealism, generosity, and energy. So much on the move and full of ideas he gained the nicknamed Action Mike. His National Theatre Resource Project was essentially a one-man operation with an office in a barracks-like building with one desk, two chairs, and a file cabinet. The Department of Cultural Services had little funding, almost no equipment, and few poorly paid employees. In Zambia, where eating regularly is often a struggle, culture is a very low if non-existent priority. The general attitude of the government was that tribal cultures were strong enough to take care of themselves. At a time when many pressing practical issues overwhelmed the nation--like housing, education, food, and health care--cultural funding was seen as a very low priority.
After several talks in Finland, Micke and I developed a project outline we thought best suited to Zambia's performance needs and objectives--it was the outline he would present to the Center, the Zambian government, and a host of international funders. The dilemma of how to bridge the distance between popular theatre and traditional tribal performance was prominent in our discussions. Other issues included actor training, the development of a theatre style unique and expressive of culturally rich Zambia, and application of traditional tribal performance as a viable contemporary expression. While waiting for my flight at the Helsinki airport, Micke and I talked and came to a general agreement. We would organize a two week performance training period from which would evolve a six week performance experiment and development period--the resulting performance would tour Lusaka and as much as the country as possible.
It would be a project emphasizing the identity and realization of a black African self. The unique identity and point-of-view of Zambia exists in the margins, pushed there by the overwhelming juggernaut of Western culture. Their vantage is important, and like other indigenous people, seldom heard. Now it is a vantage threatened with absorption before it can participate in the dialogue of world cultures. The Zambian sense of self (like other indigenous people) has been stricken with self-doubt, the result of generations of colonial scarring. What remains of their pathway to the rich traditional past is strewn with fragments of self, culture, identity, and place. Theatre is, and performance has been since the origin of humanity, a pro-active means, a technology by which to revisit, reaffirm, and reimagine self, community, and culture. With a handshake Micke and I agreed to begin work together in eight month's time.
Micke decided to offer the project to the Center for the Arts, the arts division of the University of Zambia. The Center offered a few courses in the visual arts, dance, and theatre. Like other universities worldwide the University of Zambia was cutting funding for their art and theatre departments. While the Center's director, the hard working and dedicated Mapopa Mtonga, was out of the country the administration converted their blackbox theatre into a print shop. The cutting of the entire Center was an imminent possibility. The University's administration had become influenced by Christian fundamentalism and saw the Center, especially its dance troop, as espousing anti-Christian and heathen tribal beliefs. The irony of the late twentieth century is that two white men, Micke and myself along with several European funding organizations saw the Litooma Project as a way to encourage traditional performance and culture.
Micke reasoned that the Center for the Arts, the country's major dance and theatre training center, was not only the best choice for producer, it also needed a shot in the arm. The fact that so much foreign money and attention focused on the Center made the government and university suddenly reconsider the Center's value. After Nyambe had given tribal identities he ascends to a large box reserved for pronouncements consistent with the raised throne area of tribal chiefs. The Spirits circled counter-clockwise and passing before the elevated Nyambe stooped in thanks to pick-up a totem puppet representing their, tribal and animal identity. The totems were their "soul" doubles. Zambian traditional cultures almost universally hold that each person possesses a soul (moyoo in Lozi) which, after death goes to Nyambe (Turner, p51); this double (silumba) can also be put into the service of evil. The totems incarnated this cultural concept as they enabled theatrical expressiveness.
The totems became, like "souls," incorporated into their dance and song and a part of their identity. The song circled and climaxed and then Nyambe bestowed on all the tribes of Zambia, traditional values, demonstrating that all tribes have a shared value system. The gift to the peoples of Zambia were: Love, Happiness, Intelligence, Virility, Perception, Strength, Solidarity, Sensuality. Peace, Respect. The performers cheered in happiness and thanks, then bowed as Nyambe left, fatigued and wanting to rest before returning the following day to bestow the rest of his gifts onto the people of Zambia.
While Nyambe gave gifts a man and a woman, wearing contemporary street clothes, entered the circle from the audience. Intentionally suggesting they were two audience members wanting to join the performance--which sometimes happened--the two however, soon revealed themselves as the mythological figures of Kamunu and Mayandu, the first man and woman. They had watched Nyambe's gift-giving and felt deprived. Nyambe, who was exiting, tells them he must rest. He continues to exit followed by Martha, now Nasilele, the wife of Nyambe and by Micke, who since the first appearance of Nyambe has been playing musical accompaniment on the tenor saxophone. The inclusion of the sax was Micke's idea and turned out to be popular and exotic in a part of the world that has limited exposure to such instruments.
Kamunu and Mayandu stop Nyambe again pleading to be given a tribe and the gifts as he did for the others. Nyambe asks them to be patient then leaves. Kamunu, played by the very talented and physically agile Isaiah Bukanga (from the Nsenga tribe), cries comically to the delight of the crowd. Mayandu, played by Phanny Walubita (Lozi), in contrast is cool and calculated, plotting vengeance. She persuades Kamunu to imitate Nyambe, convincing him that he too is capable of god-like abilities. In short order she dresses Kamunu in a large head piece with body-length material attached. The large, brightly colored papermache head had mirrors for eyes. Isaiah created the head piece inspired by a number of oversized head piece masks widely used by a variety of tribes in Zambia, Zaire, Malawi, and Tanzania. Mayandu, in a matter-of-fact way, removes his pants. It was an action that greatly amused the audience who identified how her servitude also meant his dependence.
Ascending to Nyambe's stage box,, Kamunu timidly wakes up the resting tribes and their totem spirits. Mayandu, his prompter, henchman, and biggest fan, shouts and prods the tribes into wakefulness. Soon their lust for power and money becomes a metaphor for modern Zambia. With comic declamation, Kamunu tells the tribes he has come in Nyambe's place and will complete the giving of the gifts. Rather than virtues, however, he gives them vices.
MAYANDU: That is now a man thinking. Go and stand there (pointing to the throne) and prove your words.
KAMUNU: But wife, that place is sacred.
MAYANDU: Sacred to your lunacy? Are you not ashamed of yourself? Go up there!
KAMUNU: I shall go, for it is said that: "He who threatened and he who is threatened, both are mistaken." Fear is like perishing in shallow cold waters.
(He advances slowly to the throne--then calls out and the tribes of Zambia begin to rise.)
Do not be afraid or surprised. I am the messenger from your God. I have come to simplify what your God had presented. This for your understanding. I am Kamunu and she is my wife Mayandu. We are both sacred beings. My words for you are: You should practice hatred. You require money for happiness. You should do what ever you feel you should do. You should think only of yourselves and not your community.
NYAMBE (enters): Who gave you the powers to be on my throne?
KAMUNU: I used my will power.
NYAMBE: You prove me a failure.
The tribes cheered Kamunu on excitedly until Nyambe's return brought sudden silence and remorse. Nyambe tells of his disappointment and how, as a consequence, he will not give his remaining gifts to the tribes. Instead he will leave them, escaping the meddlesome Kamunu, and go to the far side of the sun--Nyambe's symbol. Immediately two spiders entered chasing the tribes with a large spider's web. One of the spiders, Jerry Jmuale, used stilts. A member of the matrilineal Chewa tribe, the small and agile Jmuale came to life when performing Nyua inspired dances such as the spider. Initiated in the all male Nyua secret cult when eight, the twenty-six year old had mastered fifteen of the thirty-three dances of the society. With age he will be initiated progressively to other Nyau dances. Some of the dances are more complex, and build on previous techniques, concentration, and spiritual development that come with age. His facile ability on stilts was something to behold. Since he was not performing a Nyua dance in sacred context he did not wear the Gule Wamkulu (great dance) mask that normally accompanies the dance--he instead wore a rubber gorilla mask with fake hair, the type you might find in a masquerade shop in the U.S. The audience delighted in his performance as he chased the Spirits across the circle with a few steps.
A three-foot high Nyambe puppet entered, circling to a slow exit. The spiders followed Nyambe and a large sun carried on top of a bamboo pole; Micke played a mournful sax accompaniment. The tribal performers also followed singing a Ngoni mourning song traditionally sung for battle dead. [3]
Isaiah and Phanny proved to be ideal choices for the roles of Kamunu and Mayandu. Both were seasoned members of popular theatre groups. Isaiah was from the Tiza Arts Theatre Club in Ndola (Northern Province) and Phanny was a member of the Zambian Army Theatre Group, doing television and theatre. Like other popular theatre actors, they were primarily self trained. Popular theatre actors learn from other actors and become quickly seasoned by the tutelage of outdoor, anything-can-happen-or-you-lose-your-audience, performing.
There existed only a few and infrequent theatre classes at the Center for the Arts with training in music and visual arts fairing only slightly better. Zambia has no national theatre or gallery. The closest Zambia has to an idea of a national theatre is the Lusaka Playhouse, a dirty, colonial era ramshackle barn of a proscenium arch theatre that performs Western styled plays for mostly a small white and upper middle-class black audience. Both University and the Department of Cultural Services support highly regarded dance groups that perform a sampling of traditional tribal dances from throughout the nation. These groups, however, have developed a presentational style geared for consumer and tourist presentations at such place like Lusaka's Hotel Intercontinental.
Micke operated theatre training programs that provided much needed basic acting, directing, and management skills to the Popular Theaters--there numbered over a hundred such groups nationwide. The popular theatre movement began in Zambia in the late 1960s as part of a socialist inspiration to bring theatre to the people. The intent behind the popular theatre movement was as much a part of the idealism and political consciousness of the late 1960s as it was a response to the real needs of communicating to the rural and urban semi-literate and illiterate.
The popular theatre style uses a broad physical style of acting, with no-tech, few props and costumes and is performed at found sites in a rural field or an urban compounds. A high rate of illiteracy, great poverty, and lack of electrification (meaning few radios and even fewer televisions), make theatre a major mode of communicating to Zambia's population. So recognized is the ability of popular theatre to communicate and educate that many theatre groups often receive project sponsorships from international organizations such as Oxfam and the World Health Organization. Generally the plays are didactic morality stories with intertwined social, political, and educational objectives. Simple story lines told by readily identifiable characters in a broad social realistic way. Prior to our workshops and Imipashi, Isaiah had toured his province performing a show about animal poaching. Phanny had appeared in a television drama, which had a similarly broad moralizing plot line, depicting the evils of property grabbing. A practice among some tribes whereby the wife and children loose all property to in-laws in the event of her husband's death. Other popular theatre plays dealt with issues such as deforestation, soil erosion, how to use fertilizer for more productive crops, child care and nursing, AIDS and TB awareness, and family planning. Many of the plays include audience interaction or discussion; all of them stressed entertainment values so as to provide a sugar coating for hard facts and issues.
Surprisingly, the popular theatre movement chose not to incorporate or even recognize in its style of presentation the rich traditional performance heritage of tribal Zambia. Part of this was deliberate, as Zambia, like other multi-tribal African nations, was wanting to distance itself from tribal politics and thinking. Socialist and egalitarian minded popular theatre saw itself as an ideal, demonstrating a modern (i.e. Western) and pragmatic alternative to tribal ways. A modern Zambia had to move forward and traditional tribal performance lost value when dealing with pressing, if not overwhelming contemporary issues.
The Litooma Project went to great lengths to include an understanding of methods, exercises, and organization so as to make the greatest, long term impact. Provided with note books and pens, the participants were encouraged to keep their own records describing the exercises and process. Actively encouraged throughout the workshop and rehearsal was their interaction--I wanted them to observe and reflect on the process that aside from the workshops and rehearsals included skills enhancement. Lela Penlton, a Finish puppet maker and performer, who with her assistant Joshua Muyambo, taught puppet making and performing skills. Micke, an accomplished musician, taught western musical skills.
Nor was the skills exchange one sided. The participants offered their methods, shared their dances and experiences. For many it was the first time they had realized the value of what they knew. In a sense the workshop, rehearsals, and performance became a forum for the sharing of knowledge, experiences, and tribal cultures. Many participants remarked with enthusiasm about the benefits of the opportunity to work and exchange ideas with other popular theatre performers.
All of the performers spoke English, however, some did not speak it well and tried to hide the fact out of fear of embarrassment. Once discovered, additional time for translation and cultural interpretation of each exercise, note or direction, became incorporated into our rhythm of working. To make sure the process was communicating as fully and equally as possible we instituted a policy of my stepping out of the discussion to allow the participants to integrate the material by freely talking amongst themselves in either Bemba or Nynga--the two most widely used languages. A variety of group members led these discussions, translations and interpretations, so as to engender leadership responsibilities. During this time I would sit by, available for clarifications. Sometimes their discussions would take upwards to an hour, and include much emotion--it was time well spent. Leadership of the discussion by some, however, gave rise to underlying tribal antagonisms; however, as these tensions occurred we moved quickly to identify, discuss and remedy them. I am deeply indebted to Light Musonda, our stage manager and my right hand man, who was second set of eyes and ears, patiently informing and educating me to the subtle interactions between the participants, their implications, and their tribal context.
Issues of inter-tribal antagonism, language and educational disparity and rural versus city (Lusaka) discrepancies came to the fore during performance development. Assigned and/or volunteered for, "creative groups" worked on specific dances, scenes, or songs. The idea behind the creative groups (comprised of three to nine people each) was to develop a sense of creative independence and self-reliance as it offered an opportunity for the groups to figure things out for themselves, address objectives, and organize their work without my direct influence. Often times the creative groups took the initiative developing significant contributions that were brought to the group to be worked into the eventual performance. However, sometimes the groups, working by themselves with only a my occasional visit, accomplished little having been paralyzed by underlying antagonism. Some group members would resent the leadership of another, disagree without constructive criticism, or simply refuse to contribute if an idea came from someone they thought "under" them. For some it was inter-tribal resentments, in other situations disparity in education or verbal abilities created tensions and even social hierarchies. I pulled Timothy Mugala to the side several times for the way he treated Lenard Milimo and Tyford Bilma. Both men had limited formal education but worked hard and sincerely. It was very upsetting to see them stutter in confusion when the educated and charismatic Timothy brow beat them with his "correct" way of doing things. Both Timothy and Tyford were from the Tumbuka tribe and part of their interaction dealt with tribal hierarchy and rivalry. To his credit, Timothy and others eventually adjusted their behavior becoming more accepting and respectful of others.
From the beginning I viewed my role as that of guide, organizer, teacher, and reluctantly, an arbitrator--my preference is to develop such work by consensus. However, when I sensed the group was sidestepping culturally ingrained tribal antagonism by deferring to me--using me as the final word--I called them on it. An attempt was made to openly discuss any issue--dealing with the performance, personalities, organization, etc.--having them take responsibility for examining and resolving a given issue for the good of the project. One such issue was the name of the performance. Some participants wanted Imipashi, a Bemba word for 'spirits', others wanted Mizumu, the Nyanja word. They said I was the director and I must decide. Since the 1992 election of Chaluba as Zambia's president, the large Bemba tribe had been seen as becoming too powerful and arrogant, taking over key positions in government and business. The non-Bembas in the group wanted to use the Nyanja word and language in the performance even though in certain areas Bemba is more widely understood. Our heated discussion lasted for hours with our vote resulting with Imipashi because its meaning did not include connotations of evil spirits; we also decided to adjust from Bemba to Nyanja when necessary in response to audience comprehension. Democratic methods have not come easy to Africa. As time went on and I sensed the group or an individual was deferring to me for authorization rather than trusting themselves or one another I would reply: "I'm not your bwana!" Bwana is the obsequious word for boss and carries with it a stinging colonial resonance. My being white made it all the more resonant. Through the repeated use of the phrase in a variety of situations, they came to understand its meaning and implications. Initially I used the phrase so much they became able to anticipate my reaction, nodding with a smile of recognition. As time went on the company became more confident in themselves and trusting of one another. Some lessons are harder to convey than others. Repeatedly I gave them my "Bwana" speech: "I am not your bwana! I am working with you! You cannot depend on me because I will be going and you will have to do it yourselves for yourselves. Your success lives in how well you can work together. Everything you need is right here. It is in you and it is in this group."
With Nyambe's departure from humanity Kamunu and Mayandu seized the opportunity of taking advantage of a grieving and vulnerable people. The tribes, in despair go grieving to their "families" in the audience. It wasn't long, however, before Kamunu and Mayandu conspired to stir discord, blaming the loss of Nyambe by pitting one tribe against the other. Kamunu, instigating the tribes into accusing one another for their loss, stirred up familiar tribal antagonisms and prejudices. The tribes finally do battle, and facing off in two rows, the tribes march to their deaths singing and dancing Bemba and Ngoni war songs. During the moment of their deaths a Nyau mask spirit character makes its first appearance. The appearance of "Kasinja," played Jerry Jmuale, was an audience favorite that evoked audience cheers with many running into the circle to give him money. It marked the first appearance of a traditionally recognizable spirit character and provided an important stabilizing effect, reaffirming and reassuring the audience of the perseverance of traditional values and spirits. The action, characters, and ideas that had preceded this appearance were familiar and relatable, however they were new and outside a traditional performance context (i.e., theatre), portraying a narrative of loss and disruption. With the appearance of Kasinja the narrative suddenly jumped into the context of mythological continuity--a similar effect might be equal to the appearance of Christ during a contemporary Western drama. Kasinja's appearance evoked a stabilizing order of tradition as it stepped out of the narrative action to glimpse a greater sense of self and perspective. Kasinja would appear again, always unseen by Kamunu who was not spiritually aware, to remind the audience of the perseverance of their cultural beliefs despite the narrative being played out. The inclusion of Kasinja, and other traditional performers later in the story, also added a sense of the sacred to the performance. Accordingly I learned never to address the performers while wearing traditional masks, allowing the dancers to take the masks off in private, and to never associate the mask with its performer. Giving direction or notes to Kasinja I would be careful not to address Jerry, but rather address Kasinja, in general. This observance was accorded in respect to all of the traditional mask performers.
After Kasinja's spirit dance over the dead tribes of Zambia, Mayandu and Kamunu, like sorcerers taking possession of souls, knock on the earth three times and sing to raise the dead. The Spirits, now metaphors for tribal Zambia, give up their totems (symbols of their soul) and in so doing become zombies fully under the control of Kamunu and Mayandu. He beats and abuses the totems with the performers, standing in the distance as zombies, re-acting as if it were they themselves being abused. Spirit possession, and the tampering of the soul by another, is a well-established and living belief amongst Zambia's many tribal cultures.
With the tribes under his control, Kamunu, still thirsting for power, calls upon the spirit world. The Cone people enter thinking Nyambe called them but instead find themselves in the middle of a deceptive plot. With the aid of the tribes the Cone people likewise transform into Kamunu's mindless servants. Kamunu and Mayandu parade around the circle, with the Cone people under his control, bestowing blessings on the audience. With their action an absurd cross breeding of political, tribal, and religious symbols and actions came pointedly together.
The power mad Kamunu toys with the zombie tribes and Cone people until he becomes bored, then sends them away. Once alone, Mayandu admonishes Kamunu for being unnecessarily abusive and power hungry. Kamunu turns on his wife and tolerating no objections, knocks her down. Kamunu then announces to the audience that he is their king and they have gathered to pay him homage. His speech brought many laughs, but confronting the audience he claimed they laughed because they too were zombies and he willed them to laugh. "Why don't you leave? See, you stay here watching me because you are in my control. You have no mind of your own only what I tell you. You cannot think for yourself."
Isaiah Bukanga and Phanny Walubita proved in this dialog heavy scene their long experience playing to large outdoor audiences. Performing in areas sometimes two hundred feet wide, competing with street sound and a vocal audience, the two never failed to capture their audience with subtleties of character, relationship, and language. It was remarkable to hear an audience of upwards of three thousand suddenly break into loud laughter with an aside, a change of inflection, or facial expression. Isaiah successfully combined physical expression with an expressive rubber face that made his bungling fool villain acceptable if not lovable. Phanny, in contrast, played her role as a calculating, severe, and smart; she was everything Kamunu was not and liked it that way.
Then Kamunu called out the visible signs of his control of the modern world. With the appearance of very familiar characters from the audience's daily life the performance expanded on tribal and mythological context into a very recognizable reality. With this scene the mytho-spiritual origins of tribal Zambia, connected and extrapolated, into a contemporary context. The archetypal and symbolic suddenly became real--it was the first time the Spirits appeared without their masks. The Policeman introduced the modern reality overseen by Kamunu. Played by the tall, well-built Lenard Milimo in an actual uniform, he entered, saluted Kamunu then patrolled the audience with the familiar gait and admonishments of an actual policeman. His entrance, like that of others, was accompanied by drumming and dance. The Teacher, played by Linda Meyers, was next, demanding sections of the audience to recite familiar school lessons--which often evoked responses. Catherine Musonda played The Doctor wearing a white lab coat, syringe in hand, giving out condoms and taking temperatures. Miriam Inambao, (a government nurse normally assigned to work with a Lozi popular theatre group), played The Nun in full habit, giving blessings and reminding the audience of colonial religions. The Politician, played by Benne Banda, (actor and journalist with Lusaka's leading newspaper), went around the circle wearing a comic bow-tie shouting "Vote for Me!" and making preposterous campaign promises. Martin Chisulo played The Businessman, circling the audience trying to make one-sided deals. Other characters included The Prostitute, representing AIDS, played by Laiza Phiri; A Television Set (there is one, government owned station), played with comic brilliance by Peter Mulenga who spouted familiar government statements; Money, played by Flavia Ranzoni, waved oversized Kwacha at the audience with a tease; Tyford Bilima, wore a rubber devil's mask and frightened many as the devil--he played beer and liquor containers made into rattles; The Chief was played by Joseph Malisau in traditional looking skins as he declaimed the righteousness of tribal ways; and Micke played mandrax the ecstasy evoking synthetic drug that was creating such a political stir in Zambia, wearing a large pill and playing a trombone. Each of the figures had their own recognizable, archetypal performance language, and all were under Kamunu's control. Under Kamunu's guidance the scene built into a frantic chaos losing any narrative structure that had existed before, suggesting the all too familiar confusion of living in modern Zambia.
Kamunu proceeds with his destructive way by turning the world upside down and inside out, a metaphor for the manipulated values of modern Zambia. He indoctrinates those under his control and "re-orders" the world to his whims. At his command right becomes left, "come" means "go," "jump" means "squat" and "wrong" means "right." He renames men, calling them women; he calls Flavia, one of our white performers, black; identifies himself as handsome and intelligent, then orders them to leave by ordering them all to stay. The confusing duplicity of the world of Kamunu was full of slapstick but resonated with the recognizable sense of communication and social breakdown, and the ugly, chaotic uncertainty Zambians had come to live with. The scene, inspired by the performer's experiences, evolved through discussion and improvisation.
"In Zambia, everything is tired but somehow we get to tomorrow," is what George Daka, our Nyambe told me. The simplest communication posed tremendous complications and challenges at every turn. Photocopying machines were non-existent. Phones were donated, Soviet era rejects working infrequently, if at all. Only two phones worked on the campus of the University of Zambia (enrollment 20,000 +) for the entire three months I spent in Lusaka. The only assured way to communicate with people was to drive to whomever you needed to communicate with. Such communication was by chance or persistence and some days Micke and I spent hours driving all over town to accomplish what a simple phone call would otherwise do. Ordering a phone might mean waiting for years and breakdowns were common as were power and water outages.
Likewise transportation was a constant, complicated, and time consuming nightmare. Some of the performers walked to rehearsals, a few rode bicycles, but the majority rode in the back of a pick-up truck provided by the Swedish Development agency. Sometimes twenty people and drums crowded in, with many of us standing in the back of the truck as we swayed and sang our way to our rehearsal. Those that missed their pick-up either didn't show or walked to rehearsals arriving several hours late because they could not afford the equivalent to ten cents for a bus ride. Fraxton Phiri, one of the drummers and Cone people, came to Micke and I sadly one day asking if we could help him. His father had just died and he wanted us to use the pick-up to drive his father's casket to the cemetery because he could not afford transport. We did so, and gave him an advance on his wages so he could buy food for the customary gathering of the extended family during mourning. Fraxton was the sole supporter of nine people, earning an equivalent of $52 dollars a month.
Just getting the project started was no easy matter. After a three week delay of the workshop starting date, I decided to begin in spite of the fact many of the nationwide participants had not yet arrived. The participants had to be notified by the notoriously inefficient postal system which in many cases took three weeks for cross town delivery. Another problem was getting women, especially from the provinces, to participate in the project. Except for Miriam who was in her mid-forties, all the women were single; husbands of popular theatre actresses would not let their wives come to Lusaka.
Having worked in Africa before I knew a sure way to get things started was to simply start: others somehow come, attracted to the activity. When we started the workshop there were only four participants from various parts of Zambia when we had anticipated 35. Though none of the University Dancers had any previous theatre experience, they had amongst them a wealth of traditional dance knowledge. Dr. Mtonga, director of the Center for the Arts, suggested I use them in the project and generously paid their wages. At about the middle of the second week of the workshop we had 23 popular theatre performers and the 12 member dance troop participating. The interaction between the social-realistic popular theatre artist and the traditional dance troop would set the tone for how the two formerly discrete styles of expression would co-mingle. By the beginning of the third week, six weeks after my arrival and five weeks after the original starting date, we were ready to begin.
Performer's health was also a critical issue throughout. Nearly every day at least one and up to four people were absent because of a variety of ailments. Three group members were HIV positive, others suffered variously from recurring bouts of malaria, a variety of stomach ailments, malnutrition, tick bite fever, and even one case of cholera. Health care in Zambia is abysmal and AIDS is a time bomb to explode in the years to come. One day I found Isaiah rubbing himself down with automobile brake fluid to dry out a severe skin rash--he said it was all he could afford. Living conditions invited illness. Many lived without electricity fetching their water from public faucets which was oftentime unsafe to drink. The majority of the local participants, like Jerry Jumale, lived with their spouse and children in a dirt floor shack drawing water from a community faucet and cooking outside on an open fire. Out of town participants were housed at the Finnish Volunteer Service dormitory which was for them like a luxury hotel and caused some envy among the Lusaka participants. For many of our participants the daily meal we provided at the British colonial era "Rugby Club" was their only meal (we generally worked five days a week, six to eight hours a day.) Often times I would buy and distribute oranges to augment their diet.
Our workshops began at the Chickwakawa Theatre site. Chickwakwa was less a theatre and more an outdoor amphitheater in ruin. Located about 15 km from the city center next to a housing area and cornfields, the stage house was a converted tobacco drying building on what was a former tobacco farm. Established during the late 1960s by a group of activist students that viewed theatre as a vehicle for social change and cultural identity, Chickwakwa means to cut grass to its roots hence Chickwakwa was a grass roots theatre. The original idea was to premiere and have an extended run of Imipashi at the site in order to revive Chickwakwa. The notion soon evaporated in the heat of Zambian sun that sapped the early days of the workshop of energy and spirit. Lusaka had few large indoor spaces available but after much searching and negotiating, persistent Micke secured a cavernous geodesic dome called "The American Dome." Donated by the US Government after twenty some years of traveling to a dozen countries as testament of American ingenuity--the dome had seen better days. However, it was a clean and secure space and came to provide an important sense of "home" for our work. The downside of the dome was its acoustics which made for wild reverberating echoes, especially during our numerous drumming sessions.
Working with the Center for the Arts as our umbrella producer was to prove uneven for a variety of reasons. The university fiscal operations for one proved cumbersome and at times suspect, causing tremendous delays and hardship for cash strapped project participants. Because recent revelations of wide-spread corruption, the International Monetary Fund imposed severe pressure on the Zambian government to clean its financial house or risk losing all aid. In response, all governmental money dealings had to be scrutinized by as many people as possible. All this meant that production and performer disbursement forms needed several signatures and could sit on several desks for weeks before any cash disbursement. Mine and Micke's association with the project complicated matters: In Zambia, the presence of whites signaled money. Often trusting whites, especially foreigners, were targeted as easily bluffed by cultural differences and expectations long enough to be fleeced. Taking a cut, bribery, and corruption are an institutionalized part of the culture in this economically desperate country. A bottle of vodka was the cost of my visa, secured in three hours, that would have otherwise been ready in "a few weeks." Only a few miles after passing through boarder posts upon entering Zambia, the bus I rode suddenly stopped for gun toting military men conducting a "special inspection." A few dollars and some candy let my bags pass without another inspection and possible "confiscation." The mention of my invitation by the Director of Cultural Affairs (with a letter to prove it) persuaded respectful circumspection.
At times participants went literally hungry waiting for payments issued from the Center. Generally the performers suffered with accepting and patient resignation; they were used to such treatment and expected the worse. However, soon money issues had begun to negatively effect working attitudes, trust in the project and me. The performers were at the lowest end of the money receiving line, and experience told them those higher ups seeing the money before them were taking their time because they were taking their cut. The situation was becoming critical and change needed to happen. After citing several irregularities with the budget reporting and after much difficulty with cash disbursement, Micke took over as the production manager storing boxes of Kwachas (the largest note is 500, the equivalent to 80 cents) in a closet of his house. Mapopa Mtonga, the director for the Center, who had nothing to do with fiscal matters, agreed and thought it best that we take over direct control. Though we could never prove it, several hundred dollars went unaccounted for while a university employee, and former member of the production staff, had somehow found money to refurbish his living room.
Not satisfied with earthly power, Kamunu demands Mayandu assist him in calling the unborn so he can control the future. Using diviner inspired rhythms, song, and movements the land of the unborn appears. The spirit mask, Kasinja, returns, bringing with him two other Nyua spirit masks carrying large colorful branches festooned with ribbons and small infant puppets--unborn children. The two mask characters carrying the branches both wore St. Peter masks. These masked characters, played by Timothy Mugala and Fraxton Phiri, exampled how the Nyua performance tradition incorporated Christian characters. Nyambe also appears bringing with him a spokesman for the unborn, Martin Chisulo. The diminutive Chisulo, a popular theatre actor from the northern province, speaking for the unborn confronts Kamunu, telling him that he cannot have the future. A dynamo of a performer, he gave an impassioned speech, confronting the audience and eliciting traditional responses to his call to action. As the spokesman of the future he directed the two St. Peter characters to symbolically whip and strip Kamunu. Kasinja, meanwhile dances in celebration, exiting with Kamunu's head piece and costume. The future leaves Kamunu standing by himself in his polka dot boxer shorts pleading for the audience's assistance.
With the defeat of Kamunu the Spirits returned (sans masks) and by regaining their totem puppets symbolically take possession of their souls again. Circling Kamunu and Mayandu, with Kasinja circling in celebration, the two stood trial, are judged and chased away. This process was to the great satisfaction of our audience. Grandly, Nyambe returned with Martha holding his sun symbol aloft as Micke played a joyful sax. The entire company returned to end the performance with a traditional Tumbuka circle dance of celebration that often times was joined by upwards to one hundred audience members.
Crowded by the audience, with hundreds of children under foot, it was forty-five minutes before we were able to pack and leave the site. Several of the performers left immediately to catch buses for our afternoon performance site in Ndola, an hour away. There, performing outside a soccer stadium, in one of the notoriously dangerous crime areas of Zambia, we would perform to nearly four thousand people. Like everywhere we performed, the audiences were eager and hungry for what we presented. It was a new thing, much like the idea of Zambia, a nation of so many and sometimes uneasy cultures was a new thing. The performance was a living demonstration of how past and present, the tribal and western ways co-mingled. It was a performance spoken in their verbal, rhythmic, and physical language, structured in their thinking and expressed by their people. Imipashi was an examination, a celebration, and ultimately the reimagining of their community. A nation community, with its parts combining to create a new, greater, and stronger whole. Imipashi was an initiation, returning to a sacred history to witness and participate with the gods and mythical ancestors. And like an initiation, pass from one consciousness into a new consciousness: a transhistorical, multi-cultural consciousness full of challenge and the hope of transcendence.
Turner, Victor W.
1952 The Lozi Peoples of Northwest Rhodesia, London:
International African Institute
1 During the months of August to December 1993 I had developed an outdoor touring performance for the Natal Performing Arts Council in Durban, South Africa. That performance, Makanda Mahlanu, was similarly based on indigenous mythology and applied the traditional performance expression of the Zulus. That performance, which toured rural, urban, and township areas, had a cast of six performers, including myself, and went far to educate me in the vicissitudes of performing in Africa.
2 Falvia and Linda were seen as being members of white tribes, complete with their own prejudices, values, and specific performance expression. Often times sensitive racial and gender issues would arise, in part provoked by their presence. Because of close interaction with the women the Zambian men were forced to examine their macho attitudes and expectations towards women, both white and black. The presence of the white women forced the men to face and adjust their working attitude and behavior. Heightened awareness of gender issues developed into a greater respect accorded all women during the course of the project. These issues, and a variety of other subtle, inter-personal and cultural issues were often talked about and considered healthy outgrowths of the process.
3 Ngoni, a Zulu off-shoot tribe, had a highly developed warrior tradition in dance and song. The Chewa and Ngoni were long and bitter territorial rivals having fought many battles. The juxtaposition between the Nyua "Jumalua" stilt dance and the Ngoni mourning song is just one instance were the performance commented on tribal antagonisms. Many inter-tribal antagonisms were widely
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